From Fringe Rhetoric to Normalized Intimidation A Historical Warning

Today I want to talk about something that many people sense intuitively but hesitate to say out loud.

History does not repeat itself exactly—but it does rhyme.

And when it rhymes, it usually begins quietly.
Not with tanks in the streets.
Not with formal declarations.
But with words, silence, and permission.

In recent weeks, events in Ghaziabad, Uttar Pradesh, have once again forced a difficult question into the open:
Are we witnessing isolated provocations—or a deeper, more dangerous pattern?

Let’s begin with the facts—because facts matter.

SECTION 1: WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED

Videos and local reporting confirmed that in Ghaziabad, a group calling itself Hindu Raksha Dal publicly distributed swords and agricultural weapons—including farsa and sickles.

This is not rumor.
This is not social-media exaggeration.

Police arrested several individuals connected to this distribution, citing public safety and law-and-order concerns. That action is real—and it is important.

But arrests alone do not answer the deeper question.

Because soon after, a well-known controversial religious figure, Yati Narsinghanand, was reported as saying something far more alarming.

He reportedly declared that “swords are not enough”
and suggested that Hindus should form an organization “like ISIS.”

Let’s pause here.

Invoking ISIS—a globally designated terrorist organization—is not metaphorical language.
It is not cultural symbolism.
It is explicitly militant rhetoric.

In a country already under strain from religious polarization, this kind of language is not just provocative, it is dangerous.

Predictably, there was outrage. Debate. Condemnation.

And yet, something else happened as well.

SECTION 2: DENIAL, DISTANCE, AND SILENCE

We were told—correctly—that these were fringe voices.
That these statements do not represent official policy.

Opposition leaders responded sharply.
Akhilesh Yadav spoke of an environment of “anarchy.”
Congress MP Manickam Tagore pointed toward the ideological climate shaped by the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, even while acknowledging the absence of written orders or direct evidence.

And this is where analysis must begin.

Because political science does not look for confessions.
It looks for patterns.

And the pattern here is familiar.

SECTION 3: THE DUAL-TRACK STRATEGY

Across many countries and many eras, extremist or majoritarian movements have followed a dual-track strategy:

At the top:
– Formal deniability
– Procedural language
– Silence, or delayed distancing

At the base:
– Informal mobilization
– Provocative rhetoric
– Symbolic intimidation

This allows leaders to say, “They do not represent us,”
while never clearly breaking ideological ties.

When violence or hate erupts, responses often sound like this:

“The law will take its course.”
“This was an isolated incident.”
“We condemn violence in general.”

What is usually missing is moral rejection of the ideology itself.

This is what scholars call consistent asymmetry:
– Extremism flows in one direction
– Accountability flows selectively

And over time, this asymmetry changes social expectations.

What once shocked people becomes routine.
What once required apology begins to require explanation.
Eventually, it requires nothing at all.

This is not conspiracy.
This is structure.

And history is full of it.

SECTION 4: WEIMAR GERMANY – BEFORE THE CATASTROPHE (5 minutes)

Let us go back—not to Nazi Germany at its height—but before.

In late Weimar Germany, between 1928 and 1933, the Nazi Party did not seize power through immediate state terror.

Street violence was carried out by the SA—the Brownshirts—technically outside the formal state.

Leadership maintained plausible deniability.
Courts acted selectively.
Police enforcement was uneven.

Violence was framed as defensive reaction—
against minorities, against humiliation, against chaos.

Here is the key mechanism:

Silence plus selective condemnation became tacit authorization.

Each incident widened the boundary of what was acceptable.
Each act tested how far things could go.

Eventually, the state did not restrain the militants—it absorbed them.

And by the time the world realized what was happening, it was too late.

SECTION 5: MYANMAR, YUGOSLAVIA, SRI LANKA

This pattern is not uniquely European.

In Myanmar, Buddhist nationalist monks and civil-society actors spread dehumanizing rhetoric against the Rohingya. The Tatmadaw described attacks as “local clashes.” Security forces arrived late—or not at all.

Violence was outsourced to social actors and sanitized by bureaucracy—until mass displacement followed.

In Yugoslavia, paramilitaries were called “volunteers.” Leadership denied command responsibility. Media saturated the public sphere with grievance narratives long before war began.

In Sri Lanka, cultural nationalism was embedded in law. Anti-Tamil violence was framed as spontaneous public anger. Police often stood aside. Reconciliation was promised that ideology was untouched.

Across all these cases, one lesson repeats:

Genocidal and pogromed systems rarely begin with orders.
They begin with permission.

SECTION 6: WHY INDIA MUST BE UNDERSTOOD STRUCTURALLY

This brings us back to India.

The issue is not command-and-control violence.
The issue is systemic tolerance.

Since 2002—and increasingly after 2019—a recurring pattern is visible:

– Ideological affiliates act first
– Leadership responds with silence or procedural language
– Hate-speech laws are enforced unevenly
– Each incident slightly widens the boundary

This ecosystem is shaped by the ideological reach of the RSS and the political dominance of the Bharatiya Janata Party, while preserving formal deniability at the top.

The danger is not overt state-sponsored terror.

The danger is a permissive environment where extremist rhetoric flourishes and perpetrators learn that consequences are unlimited.

SECTION 7: WHY THIS MATTERS TO THE WEST

India is not an isolated country.
It is a strategic democratic partner.

History shows that early tolerance of majoritarian intimidation often precedes international crises—refugee flows, regional instability, and long-term reputational damage.

And history also shows something else:

Silence from democratic allies is rarely interpreted as neutrality.
It is interpreted as acquiescence.

The cost of early engagement is small.
The cost of delayed regret is catastrophic.

CONCLUSION

History teaches us that societies do not descend into authoritarian violence suddenly.

They slide—
through silence,
through normalization,
through selective enforcement.

These were the conditions that preceded Germany’s collapse before the Second World War.

The current trajectory in India presents a credible risk of similar deterioration if unchecked.

Early, principled engagement by free societies is not interference.

It is responsibility.
It is memory.
And it is the lesson history keeps trying to teach us—before it is too late.

For Western democracies—especially the United States—this is a test of credibility, not convenience. History shows that the greatest failures were not of knowledge but of will, as warning signs were recognized yet ignored in the name of strategic patience. India’s current trajectory does not call for hysteria, but for early, principled action through diplomatic pressure, targeted sanctions against enablers of hate, and clear public defense of minority rights. Waiting for unmistakable catastrophe would repeat the gravest mistake of the twentieth century; preventing democratic erosion and protecting religious minorities is not interference, but a responsibility owed by free societies that claim to have learned from history.