The looming shadows by Marja Heikkinen

There is something eerily familiar about the political theatrics of Donald Trump. It’s the same worn-out authoritarian playbook that history has shown us time and time again. When power slips, when the walls close in, when the democratic process threatens to dilute their grip, dictators, autocrats, and strongmen look for a crisis. If they don’t find one, they create one. And Trump, a man who has long fantasized about ruling with unchecked power, may be doing exactly that.

On March 4, 2025, in what was supposed to be an address to Congress, Trump, never one for subtlety, laid out the final pieces of his long-awaited authoritarian puzzle. The warning signs were there, embedded in his speech, in his rhetoric, in his choice of words and tone. This was not the rallying cry of a democratic leader seeking unity; this was the foreboding echo of a man laying the groundwork for a national emergency, the ultimate power grab, the desperate gasp of a politician who has never accepted the concept of limitations.

The idea of a second Trump presidency was always riddled with danger. Unlike his first chaotic term, where he was often restrained by a combination of his own incompetence and institutional checks, his second coming is driven by vengeance, paranoia, and an unshakable determination to bend America to his will. He has openly fantasized about imprisoning political opponents, silencing the press, and dismantling the institutions that have, so far, managed to resist his gravitational pull toward dictatorship.

During his speech, he flirted, once again, with the idea of national emergency powers. “We need strength in this country,” he declared, his voice a manufactured mix of grievance and fury. “We need law and order like we’ve never seen before. And we need leaders who are not afraid to do what must be done.” These are not words of a president serving the people; these are the ramblings of a man who sees himself as an emperor, a ruler unbound by the Constitution, seeking justification for an unprecedented consolidation of power and he openly threaten Denmark for Greenland.

History has always been kind to those who understand the usefulness of a crisis. From Julius Caesar to Adolf Hitler, from Vladimir Putin to Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, the blueprint remains unchanged: take a moment of uncertainty, inflate it into an existential threat, then declare yourself the only solution. Trump, who has never been one to play by democratic norms, is well aware of this formula.

Whether it is through economic collapse, border hysteria, or international conflict, his administration has been itching for a moment that will allow him to invoke emergency powers. He needs a reason to suspend elections, to override Congress, to consolidate military control, to silence the opposition. His rhetoric has already hinted at the justifications: “invasion at the border,” “urban crime out of control,” “election fraud bigger than ever before.” Lies, repeated enough, become truths for those who desperately want to believe them.

The problem isn’t that Trump might try to fabricate a crisis. The real problem is that there are enough people in power willing to go along with it. The Republican Party, now nothing more than an extension of Trump’s personal will, has abandoned any pretense of principle. The Supreme Court, stocked with his ideological foot soldiers, remains conveniently silent as the rule of law is chipped away. The military, traditionally a neutral entity, has been increasingly dragged into Trump’s culture war, with his loyalists embedded in key positions. And let’s not forget his base, a fervent, radicalized mass, willing to take up arms at his command.

Declaring a national emergency is not the endgame, it’s merely the opening move. Once the mechanisms of emergency rule are in place, history has shown how reluctant strongmen are to relinquish them. In Hungary, Viktor Orbán used the excuse of the refugee crisis to dismantle opposition power. In Turkey, Erdoğan declared a state of emergency after a failed coup and used it to purge his critics from every level of society. In Russia, Putin has repeatedly manufactured crises to justify suppressing dissent and extending his reign indefinitely.

Trump has studied these men. He admires them. He openly praises them. And he dreams of joining their ranks. The only thing standing between him and that reality is the American people.

There are two possible paths forward. The first is the path of resistance—where the institutions, the courts, the people themselves recognize the danger and refuse to let history repeat itself. Where Congress reclaims its constitutional authority, where the military refuses unlawful orders, where the American people reject the manufactured crisis and stand against the man who would be king.

The second path is darker. It is the path of complacency, of apathy, of people who say, “This could never happen here,” even as it unfolds before their eyes. It is the path where Trump’s emergency declaration is met with passive acceptance, where his enemies are systematically silenced, where the last remnants of democracy are eroded in the name of safety and stability.

The signs are all there. His threats towards Canada, Greenland, Panama were all there. The question now is whether America will heed them or, like so many before, wake up only when it’s too late.