House of Truth

IOL News

25-04-2025

IF you're shocked by the speed with which Fascism has taken hold in the United States, you must have been sleeping under a rock for the past, oh... 150 years. American Democracy was always more sham than reality, an idea promoted to the rest of the world through countless movies, TV shows, news broadcasts, and the sprawling machinery of U.S. popular culture that's been pumping out this propaganda for over a century. But let's not kid ourselves: America is not now, nor has it ever been, a bastion of freedom or equality - unless you happen to be white, male, and wealthy.
The truth of the matter is that white Americans, after having nearly wiped out all the Native Americans, never quite got over the outcome of the Civil War, which made it illegal for one person to own another. Oh sure, slavery ended with the Thirteenth Amendment in 1865, but did anyone really think that would stop centuries-old systems of oppression? The South immediately set about reinventing bondage under a new name - Jim Crow - and thus began the long nightmare of legalised segregation. By 1896, thanks to Plessy v. Ferguson, 'separate but equal' became the law of the land, enshrining racism into the very fabric of American society. It wasn't about equality, it was about control, plain and simple.
In the 1920s and '30s, while Europe was busy flirting with fascism, white Americans were hosting lynching parties all over the South to express their views about the notions of 'Freedom,' 'Liberty,' and 'Equality.' We have all their grotesque postcards to prove it, postcards showing grinning white crowds gathered around mutilated Black bodies hanging from trees. These weren't isolated incidents; they were rituals meant to terrorise an entire population into submission. And yet somehow we still call this country the 'land of the free.'
Fast forward to the 1950s, when Black people dared to demand access to buses, toilets, and water fountains without being treated like second-class citizens. You'd think something as basic as sitting where you please on public transportation wouldn't spark outrage, but no, the mere presence of Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat sent shockwaves through the nation. The Montgomery Bus Boycott followed, proving that collective action could challenge even the most entrenched systems of oppression. But change didn't come that easily. When nine brave students attempted to integrate Little Rock Central High School in 1957, they needed federal troops just to walk through the doors. Even then, the message was clear: integration would be fought tooth and nail every step of the way.
Meanwhile, as America lectured the world on the evils of communism during the Cold War, its soldiers were busy dropping bombs on Black and brown people across the globe who dared to show signs of wanting to control the resources of their own countries. From Vietnam to Guatemala, from Iran to Congo, the United States propped up dictators and destabilized nations, all while claiming to fight for democracy abroad. Irony? Hypocrisy? Call it what you will, but the parallels between America's foreign policy and its domestic treatment of minorities are impossible to ignore.
By the 1960s, the Civil Rights Movement had gained momentum, forcing the nation to confront its ugly truths. In 1963, Martin Luther King Jr. stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and delivered his iconic 'I Have a Dream' speech during the March on Washington. Yet even as he dreamed of a better future, Black Americans were being beaten, jailed, and murdered for simply demanding their rights. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965 were supposed to signal progress, but ask any Black voter in Georgia today how much those laws protect them. Voter suppression tactics may have evolved since the days of poll taxes and literacy tests, but their purpose remains the same: to silence voices inconvenient to those in power.
And then there's the ironic twist of Barack Obama's presidency in 2008, a moment hailed as proof that America had finally overcome its racist past. How quaint. What followed instead was a resurgence of white nationalism so brazen that it culminated in the election of Donald Trump in 2016 and his re-election last year. If Obama's presidency represented hope, Trump's represents fear: fear of losing privilege, fear of losing dominance, fear of a country that might actually live up to its ideals. His new administration has rolled back civil rights protections faster than you can say 'Make America Great Again,' reminding us once again that progress is never linear.
Today, movements like Black Lives Matter carry the torch lit by generations before them. Founded in 2013 after the acquittal of George Zimmerman in the killing of Trayvon Martin, BLM has become a global force challenging systemic racism and police violence. And yet critics accuse activists of being divisive, as if pointing out injustice is somehow worse than perpetuating it. Tell that to the families of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and countless others whose lives were stolen because of the colour of their skin.
So here we are, staring down the barrel of history repeating itself. White supremacy isn't some relic of the past: it's alive and well, thriving in boardrooms, courtrooms, and statehouses across the USA. The question isn't whether fascism has taken hold in America; the question is whether Americans will finally wake up and do something about it.
Ryan Fortune is a writer, thinker and builder of AI-powered web applications. He can be contacted via his email: [e-mail]