For generations, Americans have surrounded themselves with the symbols of ancient Greece and Rome: marble columns, laurel wreaths, Roman eagles, and the fasces. These icons, carved into our government buildings and featured on our currency, were intended to embody democracy, civic virtue, and republican ideals.
But in recent years, far-right movements in the U.S. and abroad have hijacked these classical images, repackaging them into symbols of exclusion, militarism, and authoritarian nostalgia.
As a student of both Classical Civilizations and Public Policy, I’ve seen this trend firsthand. Online spaces and political rallies now bristle with distorted classical references: Spartan helmets on protest gear, Roman eagles on alt-right banners, and phrases like molon labe (“come and take them”) lifted from ancient Greek battles but weaponized for modern culture wars.
This isn’t accidental. Extremist groups deliberately lean on classical symbolism to project legitimacy and historical grandeur. Their goal is to link their movement with notions of strength, order, and Western identity – often coded with racial and cultural exclusion.
The far right’s fascination with the ancient world has deep roots. In the 1920s and ’30s, Benito Mussolini drew heavily on Roman imagery to build Italian Fascism, adopting the fasces (a bundle of rods and an axe once carried by Roman magistrates) as the regime’s primary emblem. Nazi Germany followed suit, celebrating classical sculpture and architecture as models of supposed Aryan purity, while denouncing modern art as “degenerate.”
Today’s extremists borrow these same visual cues. The January 6 Capitol riot showcased Spartan and Roman symbols among the flags and homemade shields. In Charlottesville, at the 2017 Unite the Right rally, white nationalists marched with fasces emblems and the Roman acronym SPQR, the historic motto of the Roman Republic. White nationalist groups like Identity Evropa and Vanguard America continue to embed Roman eagles and Greek statuary into their propaganda materials.
The strategy is clear: these symbols evoke a sense of timeless authority and noble struggle. They suggest a connection to ancient civilizations that are popularly, but often simplistically, viewed as the cradle of democracy and Western greatness.
And that brings us to an uncomfortable truth: this hijacking is made easier by the way mainstream American culture has mythologized the classical world for decades.
For many Americans, Greece and Rome have long been portrayed in a sanitized narrative: Athens as the pure birthplace of democracy, and Rome as a republic of virtuous citizens. Our civic buildings mimic the Parthenon and Pantheon. Our textbooks focus on Athenian voting rights and Roman legal codes, often skipping over the less flattering realities: slavery, imperialism, patriarchy, and political collapse.
By flattening classical history into a story of unbroken democratic virtue, we’ve created a blind spot. Extremist groups exploit this by framing themselves as heirs to an imagined tradition of Western strength and purity.
Take the Spartan obsession, for example. In reality, Sparta was a militarized society that depended on the mass enslavement of the helot population and engaged in routine violence to maintain social order. However, modern far-right groups latch onto a Hollywood-inspired version of Sparta: all heroism, all warrior ethos, with no historical context.
The same goes for Roman imagery. The fasces, which in the U.S. have long symbolized unity and civic authority, are now appearing on hate group banners to signal authoritarian power. Even the Latin motto SPQR, originally an emblem of citizen governance, has been stripped of context and repurposed for modern nationalist signaling.
So, how do we respond?
First, educators have a critical role. As a classics student, I’ve learned that understanding Greece and Rome means wrestling with contradictions: innovation and oppression, civic ideals and systemic injustice. Middle and high school teachers, as well as university professors, should present the classical world in its full complexity—not as a golden age to be uncritically admired. Students should leave a unit on Athens knowing not only about democracy, but also about who was excluded from it.
Second, policymakers and civic leaders must be mindful of how they use classical symbols today. While classical architecture and symbolism remain fixtures in public life, their deployment must be accompanied by an awareness of how extremists are attempting to reframe their meaning. Civic leaders should refrain from using these images in ways that inadvertently echo extremist aesthetics, particularly in campaign materials or public art.
Third, online platforms and moderators play a crucial role. Just as we flag hate symbols and dog whistles in other contexts, there should be an awareness of how classical imagery is being used in far-right propaganda. This doesn’t mean banning every Roman eagle, but it does mean being alert when such symbols appear alongside calls to violence or exclusion.
Finally, the general public needs to approach classical imagery with more historical literacy. The solution isn’t to erase Greece and Rome from our civic identity, but to study them with clear eyes. When we understand their full history, including their flaws, failures, and complexities, we rob extremists of the ability to manipulate these symbols unchallenged.
The classical world was never monolithic, and neither is our democracy. Both are complicated, diverse, and constantly evolving. If we want democratic symbols to remain tools for inclusion rather than division, we need to reclaim them from those who would distort the past to undermine the present.
Bennett Gillespie is a student at Duke University and a council member of the Duke Program in American Grand Strategy. He is also an intern with the Fulcrum.
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Eric Trump, the newly appointed ALT5 board director of World Liberty Financial, walks outside of the NASDAQ in Times Square as they mark the $1.5- billion partnership between World Liberty Financial and ALT5 Sigma with the ringing of the NASDAQ opening bell, on Aug. 13, 2025, in New York City.
Why does the Trump family always get a pass?
Deputy Attorney General Todd Blanche joined ABC’s “This Week” on Sunday to defend or explain a lot of controversies for the Trump administration: the Epstein files release, the events in Minneapolis, etc. He was also asked about possible conflicts of interest between President Trump’s family business and his job. Specifically, Blanche was asked about a very sketchy deal Trump’s son Eric signed with the UAE’s national security adviser, Sheikh Tahnoon.
Shortly before Trump was inaugurated in early 2025, Tahnoon invested $500 million in the Trump-owned World Liberty, a then newly launched cryptocurrency outfit. A few months later, UAE was granted permission to purchase sensitive American AI chips. According to the Wall Street Journal, which broke the story, “the deal marks something unprecedented in American politics: a foreign government official taking a major ownership stake in an incoming U.S. president’s company.”
“How do you respond to those who say this is a serious conflict of interest?” ABC host George Stephanopoulos asked.
“I love it when these papers talk about something being unprecedented or never happening before,” Blanche replied, “as if the Biden family and the Biden administration didn’t do exactly the same thing, and they were just in office.”
Blanche went on to boast about how the president is utterly transparent regarding his questionable business practices: “I don’t have a comment on it beyond Trump has been completely transparent when his family travels for business reasons. They don’t do so in secret. We don’t learn about it when we find a laptop a few years later. We learn about it when it’s happening.”
Sadly, Stephanopoulos didn’t offer the obvious response, which may have gone something like this: “OK, but the president and countless leading Republicans insisted that President Biden was the head of what they dubbed ‘the Biden Crime family’ and insisted his business dealings were corrupt, and indeed that his corruption merited impeachment. So how is being ‘transparent’ about similar corruption a defense?”
Now, I should be clear that I do think the Biden family’s business dealings were corrupt, whether or not laws were broken. Others disagree. I also think Trump’s business dealings appear to be worse in many ways than even what Biden was alleged to have done. But none of that is relevant. The standard set by Trump and Republicans is the relevant political standard, and by the deputy attorney general’s own account, the Trump administration is doing “exactly the same thing,” just more openly.
Since when is being more transparent about wrongdoing a defense? Try telling a cop or judge, “Yes, I robbed that bank. I’ve been completely transparent about that. So, what’s the big deal?”
This is just a small example of the broader dysfunction in the way we talk about politics.
Americans have a special hatred for hypocrisy. I think it goes back to the founding era. As Alexis de Tocqueville observed in “Democracy In America,” the old world had a different way of dealing with the moral shortcomings of leaders. Rank had its privileges. Nobles, never mind kings, were entitled to behave in ways that were forbidden to the little people.
In America, titles of nobility were banned in the Constitution and in our democratic culture. In a society built on notions of equality (the obvious exceptions of Black people, women, Native Americans notwithstanding) no one has access to special carve-outs or exemptions as to what is right and wrong. Claiming them, particularly in secret, feels like a betrayal against the whole idea of equality.
The problem in the modern era is that elites — of all ideological stripes — have violated that bargain. The result isn’t that we’ve abandoned any notion of right and wrong. Instead, by elevating hypocrisy to the greatest of sins, we end up weaponizing the principles, using them as a cudgel against the other side but not against our own.
Pick an issue: violent rhetoric by politicians, sexual misconduct, corruption and so on. With every revelation, almost immediately the debate becomes a riot of whataboutism. Team A says that Team B has no right to criticize because they did the same thing. Team B points out that Team A has switched positions. Everyone has a point. And everyone is missing the point.
Sure, hypocrisy is a moral failing, and partisan inconsistency is an intellectual one. But neither changes the objective facts. This is something you’re supposed to learn as a child: It doesn’t matter what everyone else is doing or saying, wrong is wrong. It’s also something lawyers like Mr. Blanche are supposed to know. Telling a judge that the hypocrisy of the prosecutor — or your client’s transparency — means your client did nothing wrong would earn you nothing but a laugh.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.