New Hampshire shows how to shut down the fascist playbook—before it becomes law

CONCORD, N.H. — If you want to know how fascists operate, don’t read their pamphlets. Watch their street theater. This weekend, Concord got the show in full.

A neatly packaged fascist group showed up downtown waving flags, shouting slogans, and pretending they were Thomas Paine reincarnated. They clutched pocket Constitutions like rosaries, preaching “free speech” as if it were their personal hunting license for hate. The goal wasn’t discourse. It was intimidation—the kind designed to push public tolerance one ugly step closer to violence.

And they got violence—just not on their terms. Locals met them head‑on, and the day ended in chaos. Whether you condemn it or condone it depends on your reading of history. Some will say “violence is never the answer.” Others will note that every time fascism has been defeated—from the streets of Cable Street to the beaches of Normandy—it’s been because people decided it was time to fight back.

We’ve seen this script before. Connor Estelle tried to run it on YouTube, playing the “cancel culture martyr” after calling himself a fascist on camera. He raised tens of thousands in sympathy cash for a firing that never happened. Kyle Langford, in California, called Auschwitz a “solution for homelessness” while running for governor on an authoritarian wish list.

The endgame is always the same: one last election to choose the dictator, then tanks and tribunals. Concord proved something this weekend: the fascist playbook can be stopped—but not by pretending it’s just another opinion in the marketplace of ideas. Every city, town, and county in the United States needs to be like Concord, New Hampshire—who treated these neo‑nazi shitheels the way they deserve: with middle fingers, flying fists, and a padlock on their U‑Haul truck as they made their escape.