I'm first generation American on my mother's side. She came from Germany (from an area now culturally and geographically Polish). I mention that background because I want to be clear that my comparisons to Nazi Germany are not glib or superficial; they are grounded in my family, and my interest in how Hitler came to power.

Germans were hurting from punitive WWI damages. They were humilated, fragmented. They were experiencing inflation such that it cost a wheelbarrow of cash to purchase a loaf of bread. Following Hitler gave the ordinary, disenfranchised people a sense of pride, discipline, purpose. Part of that mental nation-building was identifying and castigating "the others." The Jews, yes, but also communists, people with disabilities, "Gypsies" (offensive term—Romani), homosexuals, anyone not actively "with the program," anyone who dared to raise an eyebrow in disagreement. Or those failing to give up their pot-roast Sunday dinner to a gang of brown-shirts who demanded entry into your farm home and took it in the name of The Cause. (True story.)

Americans (and the world as a whole) are experiencing scary, looming issues. Income inequality that continues to increase exponentially. Impending climate catastrophes. Failure to reckon with the legacies of slavery, First Nations colonization and extermination programs, Japanese internment, etc., and failure to reckon with boomerang echoes of that history. Social media monopolies that silo us off in echo chambers, content to ignore consequences as long as profits keep flowing. A global plague, the first of many, which everyone knew was coming, but was met with bungling lack of transparency.

I think we're ripe for fascism. People are retreating into tribal groups. We're defensive, trying to hang onto shreds of dignity by asserting membership in this or that group, and ignoring. If the tribe is deluded, we'll find a way to mentally sand off or ignore the rough parts, because it's become so important to find a place to belong, a place that makes sense. Even if it doesn't make sense. ("The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas," 1973 short story by Ursula K LeGuin. Can be found online.)

I don't have an answer. I'm scared too. I do try to read and listen broadly. I want to find out why people who see things differently think as they do. Recognize what we hold in common—base assumptions. Asking "why do you mention/think that?"

I too need alone-time and space. And I look for folks who can understand my perspectives—just as important to have support as it is to hear out those who disagree. Balance.