Europe: Blinded by the Past?

Terwijl Europa worstelt met zijn verleden, dreigt het zwaard van Damocles opnieuw te vallen. Gaat democratie eraan ten onder door zichzelf?

The US government, represented by Marco Rubio (Secretary of State), speaks of "tyranny in disguise . " Elon Musk even calls it an extreme attack on democracy. This sharp criticism from "the leader of the free world" is not aimed at Iraq or Somalia, but—strikingly enough—at our eastern neighbor, Germany. The reason is the recent decision by the German intelligence service to label the AfD party as far-right.

The rise of the AfD

"This decision is precisely intended to protect our democracy," is the German government's response. What's unfolding here is a meta-level debate: an American administration that, according to critics, threatens to repeat the mistakes of the past, while Germany, in fact, is almost obsessively trying to avoid those same mistakes because of its own tragic history. And that very dilemma is playing out in my mind. It's an uncomfortable one, because every choice has potentially disastrous consequences. Do we give space to intolerant parties out of fear of appearing repressive—or do we ourselves become the intolerant voice, the ghost from that same past, by excluding dissenting voices?

Until recently, the Alternative for Germany (AfD) was dismissed as radical, sidelined shouters; now, the party is leading the German polls. How could this happen? In my recent analysis, which you can find here , I delve into this in more detail. At the same time, not only is the AfD's influence growing, but so are calls for a party ban. The parallels with the political climate in France, the other foundation of our Europe, are striking. And that's worrying, because instability in both France and Germany would be disastrous.

Mitterrand's miscalculation

To understand this dilemma, we must return to France in the 1980s. In 1983 , President François Mitterrand made a strategic choice: he explicitly asked the media to give space to "minority voices"—such as Jean-Marie Le Pen, leader of the then-marginal Front National. Mitterrand thought he was being clever, assuming Le Pen would make a fool of himself. The opposite happened: the provocateur was given a platform. As a result, a party representing only a few percent of the French electorate forever changed the political playing field. The provocations, the nationalism, and the scapegoating of "foreigners" became increasingly—to put it in proper French— acceptable . His daughter, Marine Le Pen, further professionalized the party, giving it a more respectable face. And now? The ideology of Le Pen's "juniorette" has since grown into the largest political movement in France. However, on April 1, the French court ruled to bar Marine Le Pen from participating in the presidential elections due to fraud with European subsidies.

Recognizable pattern

We recently saw similar situations in Romania, where a presidential candidate was barred due to alleged ties to Russia. In the United States, lawsuits against Donald Trump dominated the political debate, with attempts to bar him from participating in the electoral process through legal proceedings. Although the contexts and motives vary—fraud in France, security concerns in Germany, foreign influence in Romania, and criminal cases in the US—a recognizable pattern emerges: whenever radical-right candidates threaten to gain power, they are challenged through legal channels. Because radical-right ideology is diametrically opposed to the dominant left-liberal mainstream, critics suspect political motives are at play. In the US, this countermovement has even become dominant, and as so often happens, the United States is our future. And that prospect makes the recurring European question more relevant than ever: do we protect democracy, or do we instead confirm the distrust that many citizens have long harbored?

Red flags

And here begins my inner conflict. As a historian, I know how ideologies can derail. Hitler's Nazi Party came to power through democratic means, after all, which painfully illustrates how vulnerable a democratic system is when it is corrupted from within by fear and frustration. That specter of the past has hung over Europe for eighty years—like the sword of Damocles , or like the allegory of Plato's cave. Yet history proves one constant: despite it being eight decades ago, Europe continues to descend into intolerance and conflict. We want to learn from the past, to outsmart Damocles. But what if we cling so desperately to those lessons that we—like Plato's caveman—have become blind to today's reality?

The AfD, the Trump movement, and the Rassemblement National effectively—albeit controversially—link domestic fears and frustrations to external factors like immigration and the European Union. This could be seen as a red flag. But as a Democrat, I have doubts. Because who is ultimately less trustworthy—the party or its own citizens? Wouldn't it be better to focus on the dangers of totalitarianism and mass formation, rather than on an ideology itself? In that respect, banning political dissent or presidential candidates might be the real red flag.

Ancient symbols

And finally, history never repeats itself exactly the same. We keep searching for a new "Hitler" or a new " Chamberlain ," but by clinging to these familiar threat images, we risk overlooking new, more subtle dangers. It's quite possible that future generations won't remember us for the parallels we thought we saw, but for the choices we made regarding something we didn't fully understand at the time.

Yet there is one clear and disturbing similarity with the 1930s. We find ourselves in a time when old certainties—international institutions, geopolitical relations, globalization, and even liberal democracy—are increasingly crumbling. In this ideological desert, we are searching for a new paradigm. And history shows that precisely in such a context, unpredictable and radical shifts can occur. Vigilance is therefore essential. This doesn't mean we should obsessively draw parallels with Nazism, but that we should take a critical, bird's-eye view of our society and politics. Some questions that arise:

What if the radicalization and the growing counter-narrative of the mainstream is partly due to that same mainstream?

What if this movement is a symptom of a democratic system that has remained insensitive to socio-economic pain and identity questions for too long? Why has no credible alternative ever been offered to the dissenting voice?

What if a ban on parties like the AfD actually reinforces this sentiment, because it confirms what many voters already suspect: "The establishment does not tolerate dissent"?

And what if the sword of Damocles falls after all, because we – like prisoners in Plato's cave – kept watching old World War II films?