If You’re Going To Call Me Fascist Anyway

“ At some point, repetition becomes instruction. When you’re told often enough that holding a handful of conservative views makes you a Nazi or a fascist, you start to wonder whether anyone still remembers what those words mean. I certainly don’t hear them used with historical precision. I hear them used as shortcuts—verbal airhorns deployed to end a conversation before it begins.

So fine. I give up.

I am now, apparently, whatever you’ve decided I am.

Not because I believe in authoritarianism, racial supremacy, or the state crushing dissent—those are real, ugly doctrines with real victims—but because the modern political vocabulary has become so degraded that disagreement itself is treated as extremism. When every boundary is crossed rhetorically, labels lose their diagnostic value and become costumes thrown at opponents.

Let’s look at what actually earns me these titles.

I believe borders should exist and be enforced. That used to be called “national sovereignty,” not fascism. I believe a country has the right—and obligation—to know who is entering it, under what conditions, and in what numbers. This is not radical; it is how functional states operate, including most progressive European ones.

I believe crime should be prosecuted and that law enforcement, while imperfect and in need of oversight, is necessary. That doesn’t mean blind loyalty to police misconduct. It means acknowledging that order is a prerequisite for liberty, not its enemy. A society that cannot enforce its laws selectively enforces them—and that is far closer to authoritarianism than insisting they be applied evenly.

I believe biological sex is real and relevant in certain contexts, particularly medicine and sports. This is not a moral crusade against anyone’s dignity; it is a factual claim with practical implications. Pretending that observable reality is bigotry does not advance compassion—it corrodes trust in institutions that rely on evidence.

I believe free speech includes the right to say things that offend powerful cultural orthodoxies. Once speech is judged not by its truth or falsity but by whether it causes “harm” as defined by the loudest activists, censorship follows naturally. History is unambiguous on this point: speech controls never stay limited to the “bad people.”

I believe economic systems should reward work, innovation, and responsibility while providing a safety net that does not metastasize into permanent dependency. That balance is difficult, but rejecting it outright in favor of ideological purity has consequences—usually for the people least able to absorb them.

For holding these positions, I am told—confidently, casually—that I am a fascist.

So here’s the punchline: if every disagreement is fascism, then fascism becomes meaningless. And if the label is unavoidable, it loses its power to shame.

In that narrow, ironic sense only, I now “embrace” it—not as an ideology, but as evidence of rhetorical exhaustion. I wear the label the way one wears a warning sticker placed by someone who ran out of arguments.

Call me whatever you need to call me. I’ll continue to argue for limited government, equal application of the law, free expression, and reality-based policy. If those positions now qualify as Nazism in the modern political imagination, the problem is not with the positions.

It’s with the imagination.

And yes—since the labels are apparently mandatory—I’ll wear them proudly, not as admissions of guilt, but as proof that the words no longer mean what they once did.”