Narrator: On the night of February 27, 1933, the German parliament building, the Reichstag, was set ablaze. Adolf Hitler, the newly appointed chancellor, seized the moment. He declared the fire an act of terror, a harbinger of a communist plot to overthrow the state. Within hours, a decree was issued suspending basic civil liberties. Political opponents were arrested, the press was muzzled, and a climate of fear descended upon Germany. This single, shocking event became the pretext for dismantling a democracy from the inside out. It was a masterclass in what historian Timothy Snyder calls "terror management," a playbook for turning fear into authoritarian power.

How does a democracy die? It rarely happens overnight. Instead, it erodes through a series of small compromises, overlooked warnings, and the willing participation of ordinary people. In his urgent and concise book, On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century, Snyder distills the history of fallen republics into a guide for modern citizens. He argues that history does not repeat, but it does instruct, and the lessons of the past are our greatest defense against the tyrannies of the future.

Narrator: One of the most unsettling lessons from the 20th century is that authoritarian regimes do not seize power through force alone; much of their power is voluntarily handed to them. Snyder identifies a crucial mechanism for this: "anticipatory obedience." This is the human tendency to guess what a new, repressive power wants and to offer it without being asked.

A chilling example of this occurred in Austria in March 1938. When Hitler threatened to annex the country, the Austrian chancellor conceded. Before German troops even arrived, local Austrian Nazis began to act. They forced Jews to scrub the streets, removing symbols of Austrian independence, while their non-Nazi neighbors watched, some with amusement. People who were not party members joined in looting Jewish property. This proactive compliance sent a powerful signal to the Nazi leadership, teaching them just how much they could get away with.

This tendency is not unique to Austrians. In 1961, Yale psychologist Stanley Milgram conducted his famous experiment on obedience. He found that ordinary people were shockingly willing to administer what they believed were painful, even lethal, electric shocks to a stranger, simply because a man in a lab coat told them to. Milgram concluded that people are remarkably receptive to new rules in a new setting. This psychological vulnerability is the fertile ground in which tyranny takes root. Resisting it begins with the simple, powerful act of refusing to obey in advance.

Narrator: Institutions like courts, newspapers, and labor unions form the bedrock of a decent society, but they do not defend themselves. Snyder warns that it is a grave mistake to assume they will automatically withstand an attack. History is filled with examples of misplaced faith. In early 1933, a leading newspaper for German Jews published an editorial expressing confidence that Hitler would not dare to strip them of their constitutional rights. They believed the institutions of the state would restrain him. By the end of that year, Germany was a one-party state, and those institutions had been humbled or co-opted.

This process of institutional decay relies on the cooperation of professionals. Tyranny requires obedience from lawyers, judges, doctors, and civil servants. When political leaders set a negative example, professional ethics become a critical line of defense. Snyder points to the horrifying case of Hans Frank, Hitler's personal lawyer, who became the governor-general of occupied Poland. Frank twisted the law to serve the Nazi agenda, declaring that what was good for the race was the law, thereby justifying mass murder.

Snyder argues that if professionals had held firm to their ethical codes—if lawyers had refused to allow executions without trial, if doctors had refused to operate without consent, if bureaucrats had refused to handle the paperwork for murder—the Nazi regime would have been much harder-pressed to carry out its atrocities. The defense of freedom, therefore, is not just a political act but a professional one.

Narrator: Tyrants understand that to control the world, you must first control the words used to describe it. Snyder urges readers to be alert to the use of dangerous words and the abandonment of factual truth. Words like extremism and terrorism are often used to justify the suspension of freedom. A leader can label any opponent an "extremist" to marginalize them, or use the threat of "terror" to create a permanent state of emergency where normal rules no longer apply.

This assault on language is coupled with an assault on reality itself. Snyder argues that "post-truth is pre-fascism." To abandon facts is to abandon freedom. When there is no shared reality, there is no basis for debate, no way to hold power accountable, and no defense against lies. This creates a world where, as one of Hitler's followers told the Jewish scholar Victor Klemperer, "understanding is useless, you have to have faith."

This dynamic was powerfully illustrated by the playwright Eugène Ionesco, who witnessed his friends in 1930s Romania succumb to fascism one by one. He saw them transform into "rhinoceroses," losing their individuality and critical thought as they adopted the party line. They began by accepting small lies and ended by embracing a completely fictional reality. Snyder contends that believing in truth, investigating claims for oneself, and supporting fact-based journalism are not just intellectual exercises; they are acts of political resistance.

Narrator: In an age of digital isolation, Snyder emphasizes the importance of "corporeal politics"—the politics of the body. Power wants citizens to be isolated in their homes, pacified by screens. True resistance requires putting your body in unfamiliar places with unfamiliar people. It means leaving the comfort of your social media feed and engaging in the three-dimensional world.

The Solidarity movement in Poland provides a powerful model. In the 1970s, Polish workers and intellectuals were isolated from one another. But in 1976, intellectuals formed a group to help workers who had been abused by the communist government. By physically showing up and offering support, they built trust across social divides. This coalition grew into the Solidarity union, which eventually brought down the communist regime. Their success was built on real-world relationships, not online clicks.

This often requires the courage to stand out. Snyder contrasts the public defiance of Winston Churchill, who rallied a nation to fight on when all seemed lost in 1940, with the quiet heroism of Teresa Prekerowa. Prekerowa was a young Polish woman who, at great personal risk, repeatedly entered the Warsaw ghetto to bring food and aid to Jewish families. Her actions were not on a global stage, but they saved lives. Both Churchill and Prekerowa refused to conform. They remind us that whether the gesture is large or small, freedom depends on individuals who are willing to break from the crowd and act on their conscience.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from On Tyranny is that history gives us the power to choose. Snyder dismantles two dangerous ideas: the "politics of inevitability," the lazy belief that democracy is the natural endpoint of history, and the "politics of eternity," the cynical belief that we are trapped in a mythic cycle of national victimhood. Both are traps that prevent us from taking responsibility for the present. History, when studied correctly, frees us from these illusions. It reveals patterns, offers examples, and shows that the future is not yet written.

Snyder’s work is not a prophecy of doom but a call to action. It is a reminder that patriotism is not blind loyalty but the desire for your country to live up to its highest ideals. The book leaves us with a profound challenge: to see ourselves not as spectators of history, but as its agents. If freedom is to be preserved, it will be because ordinary citizens learned the lessons of the past and found the courage to create a different future. The question it poses is not what will happen, but what will you do?