By Erez Levin
When did it become socially acceptable to call everyday people Nazis?
There was a time, perhaps only 20 years ago, when if someone earnestly called a political opponent "Hitler," they wouldn’t have been scolded — they would have been laughed at. The response was usually a dismissive roll of the eyes: "Oh wow, you’re being dramatic." The consequence for the speaker was subtle but real: a minor loss of credibility in their ability to assess character and impact.
Parallel to this, the casual use of "bigot," "racist," and "sexist" has risen. What were once heavy, career-ending accusations reserved for clear acts of discrimination or hateful intent became common shorthand for any disagreement involving identity or social policy. The erosion of these taboos started with nuance. It began with comparisons — "slippery slope" arguments (á la Godwin's Law) that were easy to backpedal. Eventually, the slope gave way to a cliff; the "basically" dropped, the comparisons became identities, and the hyperbolic became the mundane.
My own experience with this trend began following the attacks on October 7th, 2023, and the reactions that celebrated or defended them in the U.S. Like many others, I felt a deep, moral disgust to those reactions, though I didn’t immediately understand it. It was only after the assassination of Charlie Kirk, and the subsequent celebrations of his murder, that I realized we were witnessing the collapse of our most essential taboos, and that society by and large was willing to hold the line when sufficient pressure was applied.
When I began arguing for a principled restoration of a "red line" against overt, hateful bigotry, I was often met with "whataboutism" regarding the "bigotry" of various politicians. It was through these conversations that I realized we have a structural problem: We have so over-inflated and cheapened our moral language that we can no longer distinguish between a crude provocation and a genuine existential threat.
The Problem of Rhetorical Hyperinflation.
Today, we are living through a period of moral hyperinflation. Just as printing endless paper money devalues a currency until it is worthless, our over-application of "nuclear" labels has devalued our moral language. If a legislator is a "Nazi" for wanting to restrict illegal immigration, what words are left for the actual architects of the Holocaust? When we use 10/10 labels for 2/10 disagreements, we lose the ability to identify actual evil when it appears.
This is a social poison. A recent survey found that most Americans now believe most other Americans are "morally bad." We have built "permission structures" that allow us to stop treating our opponents as people with different ideas and start treating them as demons to be exorcised. This is an intellectual off-ramp: If I label you a Nazi, I don’t have to confront your ideas. I only have to defeat you.
Contextualizing the Red Line.
To be clear, for a taboo to work, it must have teeth. People who egregiously and unambiguously violate societal standards — through calls for genocide, explicit racial slurs, or the endorsement of illiberal hate — must face consequences. Failing to do so signals that these behaviors are acceptable and allows them to normalize.
However, most modern "demonization" occurs in a grey area. This is where we need a principled framework to assess intent and context. When we skip the assessment and go straight to the "10/10 Bigot" label, we aren't protecting society; we are destroying the very gradations of morality that keep a society sane.
Assholes vs. Assassins: The Spectrum of Harm.
To fix this, we must be willing to look at our most polarizing figures through a lens of nuance. Consider the reaction to Robert Mueller’s death. When Donald Trump celebrated Mueller’s passing, critics immediately compared it to the celebration of Charlie Kirk’s murder a few months prior.
These two events are not the same. Endorsing political violence crosses a red line that a liberal society cannot accept. Even Trump mocking Rob & Michele Reiner as victims of a tragedy — while unthinkably cruel and atrocious — is not the same as an endorsement of murder for political ends. One is a failure of human empathy and basic decency, the other is a direct assault on the foundation of our society.
I find such behavior repulsive, which is exactly why I believe we need a framework that doesn't rely solely on our personal feelings. We must distinguish between "being a jerk" and "hateful bigotry." A politician who is reckless or indifferent to the impact of their words is not the same as an unmistakable agent of intentional harm like David Duke. When critics skip this nuance, they sacrifice their own credibility and build a permission structure for the public to do the same.
The Responsibility of the Accuser.
We must also hold those who weaponize these labels accountable. While we might offer grace to an individual on social media who reacts in the heat of the moment, we must hold professional communicators and leaders to a higher standard.
When those with mass influence choose to ignore context and "intent" in favor of a 10/10 demonization, they should face a loss of status, at least until they repair the harm they caused. We cannot protect the "Red Line" if we allow people with the largest platforms to spray-paint it wherever they want for the sake of a headline or engagement with no consequences.
A Framework for Assessing Harmful Speech.
On my personal Substack, I recently published a "Guide to Moral Taboos," arguing the desperate need for a framework that distinguishes between degrees of harmful speech. We cannot treat every "potential" harm as an "actual" existential threat.
I also surveyed my readers on the idea. The results of that survey suggest we are exhausted by the "veto power" that allows any individual to label any behavior "fascist" to shut down debate. While a word may cause harm regardless of intent, the social punishment must be proportional to the speaker’s state of mind and their willingness to apologize or clarify that they do not intend harm.
Reclaiming the "Red Line."
Restoring these norms will not happen overnight. We have to move away from "cancellation" as our first response and return to the "nudge."
Consider the history of the 'n-word' in America. It became a taboo because of social friction, spurred by the Civil Rights Movement. People were corrected by their loved ones. They faced a moment of shame or a quiet "we don't say that." We are doing a disservice to our friends and family if we don't warn them to pull back from maximalist, demonizing language that is socially destructive and hurts their personal credibility. But we also do them a disservice if we ostracize them entirely without giving them a chance to reform.
We need to start "warning people" when they cross this line. This includes challenging the "soft" comparisons. When someone says, "That policy is a slippery slope to Nazi Germany," we should challenge them to be careful with such maximalist analogies. We should warn them of the dangers of slippery slope arguments that presume to know exactly how things will turn out.
Eventually, if the behavior continues, patience runs out and friendships are frayed. But we must give people the chance to reform first. Here is how those "warning" interactions should look:
- To a friend: “You can’t call that legislator a Nazi just because they want to restrict illegal immigration. If you use that term too loosely, it loses its meaning and it demonizes people based on a policy disagreement, not on their actual desires to harm others.”
- To a colleague: “If you keep calling everyone you don't like a fascist, you’re going to lose credibility. Most living politicians do not meet 1% of that definition. Let’s argue against their ideas instead.”
If we fail to nudge people away from this language, it will surely become normalized. If everything is a 10/10, then nothing is.
Erez Levin is an advertising technologist trying to effect big pro-social changes in that industry and the world at large. He is currently focused on restoring society's essential moral taboos against overt, hateful bigotry.
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