The U.S.-based Antifa movement borrows its name, imagery, and bravado from Germany’s Antifaschistische Aktion, a Communist project from the 1920s and 1930s that played a role in fragmenting the democratic left at a deadly moment. That split helped clear the political path for Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party to seize control of a broken Weimar Republic. Understanding that origin undercuts the modern group’s moral claim to a purely anti-fascist heritage.
Modern Antifa rewrites history
Modern Antifa organizers proudly fly the two-flag banner and claim a lineage to interwar anti-fascists, but the historical record is messier and uglier than the symbolism suggests. The Communist Party of Germany, or KPD, launched Antifaschistische Aktion in 1932 and focused much of its rage on the center-left Social Democratic Party, labeling those rivals “social fascists” rather than building a united defense against real fascists. That internecine warfare among the left made it easier for the Nazis to exploit fear, chaos, and division.
Mark Bray, author of Antifa: The Anti-Fascist Handbook, wrote that “over the past decades, antifa have self-consciously adopted interwar anti-fascist symbols like the two flags of the Antifaschistische Aktion.” That adoption is not innocent appropriation; it ties a contemporary movement to a political strategy that prioritized revolution over democratic coalition-building. Republicans should call that out plainly: symbolism matters, and lineage matters too.
Historians like Richard J. Evans warned that “the Communists’ violent revolutionary rhetoric, promising the destruction of capitalism and the creation of a Soviet Germany, terrified the country’s middle class who knew only too well what had happened to their counterparts in Russia after 1918.” Those fears pushed many voters toward the very authoritarian option the Communists claimed to oppose. Political actors who ignore such lessons risk repeating them in new forms.
Between the wars the Weimar Republic stumbled under economic collapse, hyperinflation, and daily street violence. KPD strategy was shaped by Stalin’s Comintern and a belief that social democracy was a chief obstacle to revolution rather than a partner in defending democracy. As one KPD slogan put it, “the Social Democratic forest should not be overlooked when looking at the National Socialist trees.”
That attitude helps explain tactical choices that today’s Antifa leaders gloss over. Bernd Langer documented how the double-flag emblem was created within the KPD and used as a symbol of anti-capitalist combat, not of a broad, pluralistic defense of democratic institutions. Langer noted the emblem “has become an emblem used across the scene, distinguishing itself from state-supporting antifascism and standing for a militant politics.”
Contemporary American radicals who embrace that iconography should face hard questions about whether they champion democracy or insurgent overthrow. The KPD often chose factional purity over practical alliances that could have stopped the Nazis, and that strategic vanity had deadly consequences. Republicans arguing for law and order should emphasize the practical history, not just the rhetoric.
The Communist International framed Stalin’s calculus bluntly: “Fascism is the bourgeoisie’s fighting organization that relies on the active support of Social-Democracy” and “Social-Democracy is objectively the moderate wing of fascism.” Those declarations turned Democrats and Socialists into enemies in the eyes of Communist strategists, creating a left that ate itself while an emboldened right consolidated. History shows what happens when ideology replaces coalition politics.
The KPD even flirted with tactical cooperation with Nazi campaigns when it suited Moscow’s strategy, at times supporting referenda against Social Democratic governments in places like Prussia. Those tactical choices, recorded by observers of the era, reveal a party that prioritized revolutionary goals over preserving pluralistic government. The KPD’s approach opened spaces that the Nazis exploited ruthlessly.
When Hitler did seize power, Communist leaders publicly declared confidence that they would “take over” after the dictator’s temporary consolidation, a chilling sign of miscalculation and misplaced optimism. The hard truth is that once totalitarian power is seized, all rivals get crushed, and promises of later takeover evaporate in prison cells and mass repression. That error of judgment is a cautionary tale for anyone flirting with violent overthrow rather than defending democratic order.
Republicans should stress two clear lessons from this history: first, symbols can carry the weight of their origins and those origins can carry practical consequences; second, factional infighting and ideological purity tests are luxury mistakes when democracy is on the line. Voters deserve to know that the label “anti-fascist” has been used in ways that harmed democratic resistance, not just defended it.
In the U.S. context, the debate turned urgent as the first Trump Administration pressed enforcement and now as President Donald Trump recently designated Antifa as a “domestic terrorism organization.” Trump described Antifa as “a militarist, anarchist enterprise that explicitly calls for the overthrow of the United States Government, law enforcement authorities, and our system of law” and labeled the group a “terrorist threat.” That designation reflects a Republican demand for public safety and accountability when political violence surfaces.
Violence at anti-ICE protests and the shocking murder of conservative influencer Charlie Kirk heightened the stakes, especially after reports that the alleged assailant’s rifle casings carried antifascist phrases and the inscription “Hey fascist! Catch!” Those details, however symbolic, show how iconography and violent intent can intersect. Whether or not individuals are formal members of any group, the messaging matters to national security and law enforcement.
Modern Antifa activists will insist their cause is righteous and that their tactics are defensive. Republicans must answer with history and a clear preference for defending constitutional order over street-level vigilantism. The choices Germans made in the 1930s are not distant curiosities — they are a warning about tactics that fracture resistance and embolden the very forces democracy fears most.
Hillary Clinton earlier this month a book by a national teachers’ union leader that frames broad political opposition in stark moral terms, showing how cultural debates feed into political polarization. That polarization makes it easier for extremist movements to recruit and escalate. The remedy starts with sober history, common-sense security, and a refusal to romanticize violent symbolism.
Embed evidence matters, and context matters more. To protect liberty you have to defend institutions and build coalitions, not fetishize militant purity. Republicans should keep making that case loudly and plainly, because history is not neutral and the lessons from the Weimar era are too bitter to be ignored.
Congratulations to my friend @rweingarten on Why Fascists Fear Teachers. From banning books to controlling curriculum, authoritarians go after public education because it’s a cornerstone of democracy.
Randi’s new book is a critical read for this moment. https://t.co/UPlL4KjNLd pic.twitter.com/DMMpWwzMY9
— Hillary Clinton (@HillaryClinton) September 17, 2025
