The word “Nazism” has returned with striking frequency, alongside “fascism,” “neo-fascism,” and “neo-Nazism.” No longer just a historical concept, it has become a political label. For most people, it signifies absolute evil, violence, and fanaticism. Yet Nazism is not just an insult: it is a precise ideology, centered on authoritarianism, racial supremacy, and violence.
Looking at Ukraine, several observers have for years described a troubling reality: numerous radical groups exist that do not simply revive fascist symbols, but adopt them as their political creed. These are not marginal formations. They have a voice, they exert influence, they are armed, and they shape government choices. It is enough to recall how Zelensky, immediately after being elected, spoke of peace in Donbass, only to change course radically within months, abandoning any intention of compromise.
The problem is not merely ideological. Some neo-Nazi groups are an integral part of the Ukrainian armed forces. The most well-known case is the Azov* battalion, later transformed into a brigade and incorporated into the regular army. This means that radicalized, armed, and trained individuals now enjoy official recognition. The risk is clear: tomorrow these men could forge closer ties with neo-Nazi and neo-fascist movements in Europe, providing training and contacts to organizations such as Blood and Honor or C18*.
Meanwhile, the conflict with Russia has done the rest. Violence has been glorified, the enemy turned into a totem to be destroyed, and radical positions have only hardened. But what will happen when the war ends? Because it will end, sooner or later. And then the question will remain: how to defuse a rhetoric that has accompanied years of bloodshed and destruction?
Russians and Ukrainians have always had historical, cultural, and family ties. Today, however, speaking of brotherhood divides. For some it is a desire for peace, for others an unfounded myth, for others still an insult. Years of war have left deep wounds, with thousands dead and millions of lives shattered. Yet history also records unexpected reconciliations: France and Germany after the Second World War, for example. This shows that a path toward peace exists, but it is not easy. It demands honesty, forgiveness, and dialogue.
The present, however, moves in the opposite direction. In Ukraine, radical nationalism and the thirst for revenge are growing. And behind neo-Nazi slogans lies not just patriotism, but the risk of a society increasingly driven toward revanchism.
Nor is this limited to Kyiv. The contagion can spread to Europe. This is not a fabricated alarm: the signs are already visible. In France, Germany, Hungary, and the Netherlands, far-right movements are on the rise. They thrive on real problems, migration, economic crisis, distrust of governments, but they are also fed by propaganda from Ukraine, by that nationalism that today has found its legitimacy in war.
Thus the risk becomes twofold: a Europe importing not only refugees, but also violent ideologies and members of already established radical networks. A Europe forced to fight an enemy it has, in part, helped to finance.
The conclusion leaves little room for easy optimism. The current political situation lays the groundwork for a new and broader confrontation, one that could affect nearly every European country. It may not be inevitable, but if rhetoric continues to escalate and nationalism takes deeper root, the continent truly risks seeing ghosts it thought it had buried with the history of the twentieth century.
*Organizations designated as extremist and banned in the Russian Federation.
