At Issue: Democrats and the mainstream media repeatedly warned that Donald Trump’s return to power would mark the rise of fascism in America. This message was echoed ad nauseam, only for some to walk it back after his re-election. Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski, in a bizarre and humiliating turn, made their way to Mar-a-Lago to all but grovel before the newly restored American king. Their message? “We were just joking.” They didn’t really mean it when they called him a fascist. And in this surreal moment, they managed to forfeit the moral high ground to a convicted felon and a civil case that found the 47th president of the United States liable for sexual misconduct.

Why do Democrats continue to wield “fascism” as their rhetorical weapon against the forces reshaping their country? Is it to invoke the memory of past wars, of the nation rallying against foreign tyranny? To most Americans, fascism is a distant specter, something fought and defeated in faraway lands. It feels removed from their lived experience, a settled matter of history.

The problem is that Democrats keep reaching for foreign analogies when they have ample historical precedent within their own borders. Rather than invoking “fascism,” why not call it what it truly is: neo-Confederacy? The growing emphasis on states’ rights is a direct nod to the Southern states that sought to secede—whether to preserve slavery or protect economic exploitation. There’s no need to call Marjorie Taylor Greene a fascist. Instead, localize the problem, strip it of its foreign baggage, and frame it within the context of American history. Simply put, Greene is not a fascist; she is a neo-Confederate.

This ideology is not new. We saw it in the judicial philosophy of Antonin Scalia, whose relentless push to decentralize power mirrored Confederate arguments from over two centuries ago. We see it in the present day as abortion is no longer settled at the national level but handed over to the discretion of individual states. The very same disputes that defined the antebellum South are being relitigated on the national stage.

Calling figures like Marjorie Taylor Greene neo-Confederates would be a good start, a powerful reframing of the issue. Would she openly advocate for reinstating slavery? Likely not. But it doesn’t need to be that extreme to make the point. The laws emerging from Texas and Florida, which increasingly restrict personal freedoms, suggest a trajectory that aligns with antebellum values. Once states gain unchecked authority, what stops them from imposing laws that fundamentally conflict with the Union’s founding principles?

At the end of the day, Americans are skeptical of foreign ideologies. Yes, they fought to defeat fascism. But they also fought an internal war to dismantle the Confederacy—a conflict that many still view as unfinished business. The answer is clear: rather than leaning on foreign references, focus on the historical struggles within the United States itself. Consider what the Confederate states once demanded and how those demands are resurfacing today.

Take, for example, the growing movement to criminalize abortion. Some states now claim the right to imprison doctors or mothers who undergo the procedure, as if the national government has no say in the matter. The U.S. Supreme Court, dominated by justices who champion states’ rights, is in many ways fulfilling the Confederate vision—a judicial “fifth column” that the South could have only dreamed of during the Civil War.

If America wants to address its present crisis, it must confront its own past—no matter how dark or painful. The country was founded as a federation, and for that federation to endure, it must uphold laws that provide “equal protection” for all citizens, regardless of state boundaries. Yet, with the rising tide of right-wing libertarianism in Washington, we are witnessing a steady regression. The ideological heirs of the antebellum South may finally achieve what their predecessors could not.