Axar.az presents an article "Seizing Missouri" by John Samuel Tieman.

I reread a book, considered a classic by some historians, William Sheridan Allen's “The Nazi Seizure Of Power: The Experience Of A Single German Town, 1930 – 1935”. By looking at a small town in Germany, a town he calls Thalburg, Allen explores the universal within the particular. For my part, I wonder if there are parallels between Thalburg and my ancestral home, Cuba, Missouri.

I have three degrees in history. But I'm not convinced that history imparts lessons. I do think we can trace parallel patterns. Consider these three from then and now. One, an irrational fear of socialism. Two, a commitment to nationalism. Three, violence that becomes normal and acceptable.

Consider the irrational fear of socialism. In Thalburg, folks responded to social democrats in ways that were virtually paranoid. Sound familiar? “One of the most serious challenges our countries face is the specter of socialism. It’s the wrecker of nations and the destroyer of societies,” Pres. Donald Trump said during a 2019 address to the United Nations. So much for the United Kingdom's National Health Service.

Second, the good folks of Thalburg made an unflagging commitment to nationalism. As Allen says, “The excess of patriotic feeling in the town during the pre-Hitler period was the great moral wedge for Nazism.” I'm reminded of a photo of Donald Trump actually hugging an American flag at the 2020 meeting of the Conservative Political Action Coalition. The photo seems silly, insipid, saccharine. But a Google search for “photo Trump hugging flag” brings “About 8,350,000 results (0.32 seconds)”. Mugs with the image are selling briskly. There's also a bobble-head. Frivolous as this seems, the nationalism of Donald Trump is nonetheless dangerous. That's not because it is an ideology. It's a negation. It's about the exclusion of Jews, Blacks, foreigners, Muslims, LGBTQ+ folks, and Democrats. In the darkest corner of every racist fantasy, there a concentration camp waits for its inmates.

Third, Allen notes that there was an increase in violence in Thalburg. Violence became normal and acceptable. “[V]iolence and political tension were significant factors in preparing the town for the Nazi takeover.” It's worth noting that, while Allen doesn't make it a point, this violence includes verbal and written violence toward Jews, homosexuals, Roma, the mentally challenged, and others. In 2017, Neo-Nazi demonstrators in Charlottesville chanted, “The Jews will not replace us.” A woman was killed, and others were injured. President Trump's response? There were “some very fine people on both sides” of all that. Violence is hardly an anomaly these days. The United States averages over 40,000 deaths from firearms each year. From 1959 to 1975, America lost 58,220 servicemen and servicewomen in Vietnam.

My father's side of the family comes from what used to be a village in Crawford County. Cuba, Missouri, is about 85 miles southwest of St. Louis. I come from a long line of hillbillies, a lineage as unadulterated as any a Windsor ever traced. I love those folks. When I'm not speaking Standard English, I can slip into a dialect I describe as High Hoosier. My father moved to the big city, St. Louis, but we often visited Cuba. So I often used to tell this story.

Fifty or more years ago, I was with my father when we visited that village. In those days, Cuba was a wide spot along the railroad line. We walked along Main Street. Dad ran into this good ole boy, a buddy from his childhood there. “Oh, Chet,” he said to my dad, “the whole place has changed.” I looked down the street and over my shoulder – if you stood in the right place, you could just about take in the whole village with a glance or two – and I couldn't see any change. Dad had to ask, of course. “Oh, Chet, Chet, Chet. The whole place has changed. We now done got us a one-way street and a homosexual.”

The homosexual was an outsider from St. Louis. The one-way street was about increased traffic. I used to tell that tale as a charming anecdote about rural Missouri. Now, I find it fearful and homophobic. It's a kind of verbal violence. There are new people in town. Change is everywhere. Indeed, today Cuba has grown from that village to a small town of 3,163 citizens. “The whole town has changed.” Of those good ole boys and good ole gals in Crawford County, 79.51% of them voted for Donald Trump in 2020. I'm reminded of what the poet, Richard Hugo, said of another small town, Philipsburg, Montana. “The principal supporting business now / is rage.” Missouri's rage is a one-way highway to fascism.