Let’s get real.
I’ve been having and hearing a lot of tough conversations lately. As new policies take hold and changes roll out, it makes sense that people are scared for the future. God knows I’m terrified.
In many of my social circles, one question keeps coming up: Should we be punching Nazis?
It’s an old idea—one that resurfaces every time fascism gains ground. It’s simple, pithy, and emotionally satisfying. It’s even pretty sound—Karl Popper calls it “The Paradox of Tolerance,” arguing that the only way a tolerant society can function is by not tolerating the intolerant.
But when we talk about “punching Nazis,” how literal is that really?
Popper’s ideas have evolved since he first wrote about them in the 1940s. Originally, he framed tolerance as a moral imperative—you are tolerant because you are morally good. But what if tolerance isn’t a virtue, but a social contract? What if tolerance is an agreement, not an obligation?
Then, the intolerant have broken that contract. Writer Yonatan Zunger puts it well in his article, “Tolerance is Not a Moral Precept.”
“After a breach, the moral rules which apply are not the rules of peace but the rules of broken peace, and the rules of war. […Tolerance] is an agreement to live in peace, not an agreement to be peaceful no matter the conduct of others.”
So, there it is. Punching a Nazi is necessary for a tolerant society to function. Boom. Blog done, boxing gloves on (or off?), let me go find a fascist to punch.
Except... it’s not that simple. It never is.
We’re not all superheroes
As crackdowns on marginalized communities increase and more people are forced to the fringes, we need to know what each and every one of us will do.
Because we’re going to see it (and even if I’m wrong, it’s still good to plan).
So, when I see it—an ICE raid, a queer couple getting accosted, crackdowns on peaceful protests—what will I do?
I want to be the hero. I want to throw a knockout punch at fascism, save an innocent family, and look like a badass while doing it. In my head, my heroism is cinematic. Hell, I’m even wearing a catsuit and heels.
In reality? Well...
The last time I punched someone, he didn’t even feel it. We were 12. That remains the only punch I’ve ever thrown. Could I land a solid right hook against a real-world Red Skull? Maybe. But more likely, I’d be pre-serum Steve Rogers—full of conviction, but no match in a fight.
And I know this about myself because I’ve tested my limits before—not just in hypothetical fights, but in real moments where action was required.
I was a rural Midwestern kid. And, when you live in the Midwest, you are going to be around guns. Any kid with good, Midwestern parents knows their basic gun safety—even if the family doesn’t own guns. Again: you will encounter guns in the rural Midwest.
There were three rules of gun safety that have stuck with me:
Never point a gun at something you don’t want to shoot.
Always assume a gun is loaded.
Only point the gun at things that you want to kill.
At one point, I needed to learn to shoot. My parents were moving abroad for a year, and I needed to take care of the farm. Sadly, when you’re hours from the nearest animal ER, there are times when a gun is the kindest choice for a suffering, fatally injured (or rabid) animal.
My dad took me out one day and reviewed the rules with me. Then, we picked a tree and started practicing. I hit the tree on my third try—and I hated it.
After we finished, cleaned the gun, and put it away, I went to my bedroom. I sat on my bed, took a deep breath, and had one of the worst panic attacks I can remember.
I am not a fighter. I couldn’t even shoot a tree without breaking down.
And here’s the thing: not everyone is meant to fight.
Not all heroism is helpful
But KJ, I hear you say, I can’t just stand by and do nothing while people get hurt!
Yeah, imaginary friend, neither can I.
Sure, I can’t fight, but that doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t fight. Hell, three of my favorite video games literally revolve around the playable character going on a suicide mission. Why not say “Damn my own personal safety, I’m gonna help!” while rushing into the fray? The resistance is bigger than my safety! If I died, I would die a hero! I’d be a martyr for the cause! Boom. Blog done, boxing gloves on (or off?), let me go find a fascist to punch!!
You know what’s coming next, right? Say it with me, now: “It’s not that simple.” At best, putting yourself in undue danger will almost never help. At worst, playing “heroic martyr” could make things much worse for your cause.
Believe it or not, I have another story for exactly this.
Back in the day, I was an EMT. The first step of any emergency scene, whether it’s a heart attack, gunshot wound, or broken leg, is always the same:
Make sure the scene is safe.
Because if you rush in without thinking, you just become another victim.
A former colleague of mine became an EMT in her early 20s. Her first-ever emergency call was a family trapped in a carbon monoxide incident. When she arrived, she tried to rush in—but a senior EMT physically held her back.
She was furious. She just wanted to help.
“Is that what you actually want to do?” the senior EMT countered. “Help? Because from where I stand, I only see someone who wants to be a hero.”
know your strengths
Helping does not always look heroic. Sometimes, it looks cowardly.
My colleague was feeling an advanced sort of survivor’s guilt. She wanted to help. She hated standing by, knowing that a wall and some doors were the only thing separating her from a family in danger. She nobly didn’t care about her own safety.
Had my colleague rushed in, she likely would have died. She didn’t have the training necessary to navigate the scene safely, unlike the firefighters already at the scene. She would have added to the burden of her partner, who would have had another patient to care for or body to bag. And no one in the house would have been better for it. Her best choice, the choice that gave the family the best chance was to do nothing.
So, she watched. She watched as one by one, the firefighters pulled out the corpses. She watched, learning that if she had run in, she would have added to the body count, putting the firefighters in even more danger because they would have had to retrieve another person.
Again: the best way she could help was to do nothing as others did their jobs. If they did their jobs well, then she would have the opportunity to do her job well. Sadly, this was one of those cases where, to borrow from Captain Picard, 'you can do everything right and still lose.' But that doesn’t mean the choice was wrong.
I cannot explain to you how much this hurts. I watched her wrestle with the guilt. She knew after the incident that she did everything right. She knew that, because she didn’t act, the jobs of the firefighters weren’t made harder.
Survivor’s guilt makes us want to act, but not all action is helpful. We are conditioned to believe that fighting and resisting are the same thing. But they’re not.
If you know how to fight, then fight.
If you know how to heal, then heal.
If you know how to document, organize, or protect, then do that—because that’s where you can do the most good.
Movements don’t succeed because everyone throws a punch. They succeed because people know their roles and play them well.
That’s not cowardice. That’s strategy.
And when the moment comes, your skills will matter.