The Fourth Reich: Europe’s Reckoning in the Age of Technofascism

When I penned my critique of Tim Cook’s attendance at Donald Trump’s inauguration, and what that signified for the LGBT community, I hoped it would serve as a wake-up call. A small, but substantial rallying cry for the tech industry to stand firm against the rising tide of authoritarianism. And, to a certain extent, it did.

That article did the rounds. I became part of the news cycle for a day and a half, and though I do not wish that on anybody, I am thankful to everybody who shared my article. Most of which, it has to be noted, were American colleagues and friends in the tech industry, for whom I have the utmost respect. I cherish all of you.

All that said, how quaint and tiny that notion now seems, as we witness the spectacular implosion of US-European relations in realtime. The recent Oval Office showdown between Trump and Zelenskyy wasn’t just another example of the Mad Hatter’s trademark petulance. No, this was the death knell of a 70 odd-year alliance, delivered with all the grace of a wrecking ball to a china shop.

As a Brit who calls both Manchester and Berlin home, I find myself in a uniquely uncomfortable position. Brexit may have severed our official ties with the EU, but my heart remains unequivocally European. I am, as they say, “European first, British second”–a stance that makes what I am about to say all the more prescient.

The End of an Era

What we witnessed in Washington was nothing short of a geopolitical earthquake. Trump’s belligerent posturing and Zelenskyy’s hasty exit have left the entire continent reeling. World leaders, to their credit, attempted the groundwork, with everybody from Keir Starmer to Emmanuel Macron to Justin Trudeau having a go at tempering Trump ahead of his meeting with Zelenskyy.

Following what can now only be described as a mugging, European leaders, also to their credit, rallied around the Ukrainian president in almost universal support. But their words unfortunately feel lessened in the face of America’s reinvigorated isolationism.

Friedrich Merz, Germany’s chancellor-in-waiting, hit the nail on the head when he declared that “we must never conflate aggressor and victim in this horrific conflict.” Kaja Kallas, Vice President of the European Commission, stated that the “free world needs a new leader”. But let’s be honest: what good are principled stands when our most powerful “ally” is actively undermining them?

The Tech Dilemma

As someone deeply embedded in the tech world, I find myself in an increasingly untenable position. In my previous article, I posited the idea that pulling away from Apple was something I may need to consider. Just five weeks ago, it felt entirely an Apple thing: Tim Cook made a choice, and in doing so, trashed my love for Apple, and showcased how insignificant he thinks other members of the LGBT community are, in a single action. Then, Trump did what he did to Zelenskyy, and well, it has suddenly become more than just Apple.

On the one hand, as already stated, I have deep respect and admiration for many of my American colleagues. The innovation and creativity flowing from their work has undeniably shaped our modern world. But, on the other hand, at what cost?

Trump’s recent memorandum targeting “overseas extortion” of American tech companies is nothing short of economic warfare. It’s a naked attempt to bully European nations into submission, all while cosying up to the likes of Zuckerberg and Musk. The rise of what Biden aptly called the “tech-industrial complex” is no longer a dystopian fantasy. It’s our grim reality.

The Spectre of Technofascism

What we’re witnessing is the rise of technofascism. It’s a term that might sound alarmist, but how else can we describe a world where tech billionaires wield more power than elected officials? Where platforms like X (formerly Twitter) become megaphones for far-right ideologies under the guise of “free speech”? It is not hyperbole to equate what X is becoming, and others of the same ilk, with the mass surveillance techniques of the SS in Nazi Germany. Ironically, the UK is now considered the most surveilled country in the world, yet it pales into insignificance when considering the scope that American social media now has on digging into the very thoughts of the world’s people.

This unholy alliance between Big Tech and the Trump administration poses an existential threat to European values and sovereignty. When Meta’s CEO can pressure the US President to take action against European regulations, when Elon Musk can interfere in German elections; we’ve crossed a Rubicon from which there may be no return.

A Chilling Echo from Berlin’s Past

Not so long ago, I returned to Manchester from my latest stint in Berlin. My flat is located in Kreuzberg—a stone’s throw from where the Gestapo once headquartered their reign of terror. Despite Kreuzberg’s counterculture revolution of more modern times, the weight of history presses like a phantom limb. This isn’t merely a neighbourhood; it’s a palimpsest of Europe’s darkest chapters. The same streets that now hum with kebab vendors and hipster clothing stores—buffeted together in a glorious cacophony of multiculturalism—once echoed with jackboots and the muffled cries of the disappeared.

Kreuzberg’s Fraenkelufer Synagogue, once a sanctuary for 2,000 worshippers, was all but burnt to the ground during the November Pogrom (or Kristallnacht)—a prelude to the systematic eradication of half of the 160,000-strong Berlin Jews. Today, Stolpersteine (“stumbling blocks”) dot the pavements, brass plaques memorialising neighbours dragged from their homes to Sachsenhausen’s ovens 19 kilometres northwest; not just the Jews, but also Sinti, Romani, Poles, LGBT folks, the disabled, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Black people, members of the Communist Party, the Social Democratic Party, the anti-Nazi Resistance, Protestants, Catholics, the Freemasons, members of the Spanish Civil War, military deserters, conscientious objectors, escape helpers, capitulators, “habitual criminals”, looters, and anybody they could charge with “treason”.

The Gestapo’s headquarters on Prinz-Albrecht-Straße, as it was then—now the Topography of Terror museum—lies just beyond the Landwehr Canal, its excavated torture cells a grim reminder of what happens when fascism infiltrates institutions.

Kreuzberg has been the home to many monuments, but perhaps its most haunting isn’t in the guidebooks. Tucked into the hill’s northwestern slope stood an 8-metre pinewood cross wrapped in barbed wire—the Memorial for the Eastern German Homeland. Erected in 1952, it mourned the almost 12 million displaced after WWII and the hundreds of thousands slaughtered in Soviet-occupied territories. A crown of thorns for those who thought appeasement might spare them. Sound familiar?

The point is that this part of the city knows expansionist hunger. When Putin eyes Ukraine, Kreuzberg’s elders need no imagination—they remember Soviet tanks crushing the 1953 Uprising, how the Wall’s 1961 erection turned it into West Berlin’s trapped appendix.

Trump’s abandonment of Zelenskyy isn’t just isolationism; it’s a green light for the same imperial playbook that reduced 1945 Berlin to rubble. Let’s be clear: if Mariupol falls, Chișinău and Riga probably aren’t far behind, chipping away at Eastern Europe piece by piece, testing NATO’s resolve at every turn. Where next? Belarus? Poland? Hungary? Even Germany?

Where does it stop? History tells us it doesn’t stop until someone makes it stop.

Berlin bears all the scars from when Europe last underestimated an expansionist regime. The Brandenburg Gate stands as both a symbol of division and an eventual triumph over tyranny. And look at the city now. A beacon of hope, renewal, and liberalism. But that only came because free nations stood together. What happens now that America has signalled its retreat? Must we go through all of that again?

As Mark Twain once said: “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes”.

A Call to Digital Arms

So, what must we do? As European technologists and citizens, we find ourselves at a crossroads. Do we continue our reliance on American Big Tech—on America period—knowing full well the strings attached? Or do we chart a new course, one that prioritises European innovation and values? Frankly, is it all too late?

The answer, I believe, has to lie somewhere in between. We cannot simply cut ourselves off from the global tech ecosystem; nor, do I believe, should we. But we can and must invest in homegrown alternatives. The European Union’s Digital Markets Act (DMA) and Digital Services Act (DSA) are, somehow, potentially, maybe, well-intentioned, but painfully incremental, and honestly, I don’t know how much weight I give them to render what Europe needs.

We need a concerted effort, from governments, businesses, and individual citizens, to reduce our dependence on American Big Tech. This means supporting European startups—which is already a rich ecosystem of innovative brilliance, it just never gets the kudos that Silicon Valley enjoys—investing in digital infrastructure, and yes, sometimes making the hard choice to forego the latest shiny gadget from Cupertino.

If you’re looking for immediate steps you can take, fabulous individuals such as Joan Westenburg have already penned ideas about tech stacks you can adopt right now. You should absolutely check out their work as a starting point.

A Personal Reckoning

So, as I consider all of this, and my god is there much to contemplate here, what I do know is that my love for Europe remains unconditional. My love for my American colleagues and friends is unconditional. But love alone, for those on either side of the pond, won’t be enough to navigate the maelstrom ahead. We require action, resolve, and a willingness to make difficult choices.

For me personally? It means taking a hard look at my own tech habits and making changes where necessary. Root and branch change. It means writing to my local MP in the UK—which I have already done—and engaging with organisations across the UK and Berlin to see how I can contribute more to the effort. Tech is my default starting point; it is not where I intend to end.

And yet, it also means confronting an even darker truth: if Putin’s aggression goes unchecked while America turns inward—not for the first time—Europe will once again be left fighting for its survival: politically, economically, and culturally.

Will it be easy? Hardly. But as Berlin reminds us every day: freedom isn’t free. The transatlantic alliance may be on life support; Putin may be circling like a vulture; technofascism may be tightening its grip—but Europe’s resolve remains unbroken.

It’s time we remembered that. Because this is our 1940. Our last off-ramp before this American technofascist Fourth Reich becomes a runaway train we cannot stop even if we wanted to.

It’s time to act.