The Stephen Miller Speech Controversy:
When Historical Analogies Overshadow Facts
Snopes: Miller allegedly “plagiarized” from Adolf Hitler’s propaganda chief, Joseph Goebbels.
Miller, an architect of Trump’s most exclusionary immigration policies who has has been accused of expressing white nationalist rhetoric, also spoke at Kirk’s memorial. Many online compared his words to those of Joseph Goebbels, Nazi leader Adolf Hitler’s propaganda chief. According to one post, Miller “plagiarized” his speech from a 1932 Goebbels address titled “The Storm is Coming”.
Miller’s and Goebbels’ speeches have rhetorical similarities, including the use of “storm” imagery, the call to people to “rise,” the exhortations to “build,” and the idea of seeking vengeance for the death of a key figure in their movements. Miller did not plagiarize Goebbels’ speech word for word, but some similarities exist. Furthermore, Democrats and watchdog groups have accused Miller of frequently promoting and repeating neo-Nazi and white nationalist views.
While we cannot outright confirm that Miller copied Goebbels’ speech, we can observe the similarities.
On September 21, 2025, as tens of thousands gathered at State Farm Stadium in Arizona to mourn conservative activist Charlie Kirk, Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller took the stage to deliver what would become one of the most controversial memorial speeches in recent American political history. Within hours of his remarks, fact-checkers and political analysts were dissecting every phrase, with Snopes publishing an investigation alleging that Miller had “essentially plagiarized” Nazi rhetoric and drawn disturbing parallels to Third Reich propaganda about Horst Wessel, the SA member who became a Nazi martyr.
The allegations are serious and deserve rigorous examination. But after conducting my own investigation into the claims, the methodology behind them, and the broader context surrounding this controversy, I’ve found a troubling pattern: the weaponization of historical comparisons that may ultimately serve political narratives rather than historical accuracy or journalistic integrity.
The Scene at State Farm Stadium
Charlie Kirk’s assassination on September 10 had sent shockwaves through conservative America. The young activist, known for his passionate speeches about American values and constitutional principles, had become a lightning rod for both devotion and criticism. His violent death transformed him overnight from a controversial political figure into something approaching a martyr for his cause.
Miller, speaking to a crowd still processing its grief and anger, delivered remarks that were undeniably charged with emotion and combative rhetoric. He spoke of Kirk being made “immortal” through his death, of continuing his mission against “forces of darkness,” and of a civilizational struggle between good and evil. The language was martial, dualistic, and intense—exactly what one might expect from a political operative addressing a traumatized community seeking both comfort and purpose.
But was it Nazi rhetoric? The Snopes investigation suggests it was, drawing parallels between Miller’s language about Kirk’s posthumous influence and statements made about Horst Wessel during the Third Reich. The comparison rests on thematic similarities: both involved young men who died violently, both were portrayed as martyrs whose deaths would inspire continued struggle, and both were described in terms that elevated them beyond mere mortality.
The Problem with Parallel-Hunting
The difficulty with this type of analysis becomes apparent when we consider the broader historical context that the Snopes investigation largely overlooks. The concept of martyrdom and posthumous inspiration isn’t unique to Nazi Germany—it’s woven throughout human history, appearing in religious traditions, revolutionary movements, and democratic societies alike. American political discourse has long employed such rhetoric, from Lincoln assassination commemorations to civil rights memorials, from fallen war heroes to assassinated political leaders.
Ronald Reagan spoke of America’s mission against an “evil empire.” Barack Obama referenced “the arc of the moral universe” bending toward justice. John F. Kennedy invoked the “long twilight struggle” against tyranny. Were these presidents channeling fascist rhetoric, or were they drawing from deeper wells of human expression about good, evil, struggle, and sacrifice?
The methodological concern here is what literary critics call “over-determination”—the tendency to find the patterns you’re looking for while ignoring equally plausible alternative explanations. But this isn’t merely academic sloppiness; when applied to political figures like Miller, it serves transparent partisan purposes that border on journalistic malfeasance. By transforming every use of dualistic language into evidence of fascist influence, Snopes abandons the pretense of objective fact-checking and engages in opposition research disguised as journalism. This approach not only trivializes the genuine horrors of Nazi ideology but weaponizes historical trauma for contemporary political advantage, while systematically destroying our ability to distinguish between authentic threats and standard political rhetoric elevated by grief and conviction.
The Missing Context
Perhaps most troubling is what the analysis omits entirely: Stephen Miller’s Jewish heritage. While this doesn’t immunize anyone from criticism, it does complicate simplistic Nazi comparison narratives and suggests alternative interpretive frameworks for understanding his language choices. A man whose family fled Eastern European persecution might draw from Jewish liturgical traditions, biblical language, and the particular experience of survival and resistance that shapes Jewish historical memory.
The analysis also fails to adequately consider the specific context of memorial oratory, which has its own conventions and emotional registers. Speaking to a community traumatized by an assassination naturally produces different rhetoric than a policy speech or campaign rally. Grief, anger, and the need to provide both comfort and renewed purpose create their own linguistic demands.
The Broader Pattern of Weaponized History
This controversy reflects a troubling broader pattern in contemporary political discourse: the routine deployment of Nazi/fascist comparisons as rhetorical weapons. Both sides of the political spectrum engage in this practice, finding fascist echoes in everything from public health measures to election security laws, from immigration policies to social media regulations.
The result is a kind of historical inflation where the unique horrors of the Third Reich become flattened into generic accusations of authoritarianism. When everything is potentially fascist, nothing is distinctly fascist. This doesn’t just cheapen our understanding of history—it impedes our ability to recognize genuine threats when they emerge.
Standards of Evidence in Dangerous Times
Everyone should understand the importance of vigilance against authoritarian rhetoric. But that vigilance must be coupled with rigorous analytical standards that distinguish between:
• Direct appropriation: Word-for-word copying or clear symbolic adoption of Nazi materials
• Thematic similarities: Shared human patterns of expression that appear across cultures and contexts
• Dog whistles: Coded language designed to signal to informed audiences while maintaining plausible deniability
• Standard rhetoric: Political language that draws from common cultural, religious, or historical sources
The Stephen Miller speech controversy appears to fall primarily into the second category—thematic similarities that reflect broader patterns of American political discourse rather than specific Nazi appropriation.
What We Actually Know
The verifiable facts are these: Miller delivered an emotionally charged speech at a memorial service following a traumatic assassination. He used confrontational, dualistic language about the ongoing political struggle. Some phrases echo patterns found in various political movements throughout history, including but not limited to fascist ones. The speech served multiple purposes—memorial, political rally, and community mobilization.
What we don’t have is concrete evidence of direct plagiarism, intentional appropriation of fascist rhetoric, or coded signals to Nazi sympathizers. Instead, we have interpretive analysis that sees sinister echoes where more prosaic explanations—grief, anger, standard political rhetoric, religious influence, and memorial conventions—might suffice.
The Real Danger
The ultimate irony is that this type of analysis, intended to protect democratic discourse from fascist influence, may actually undermine it by eroding the analytical standards necessary to distinguish genuine threats from political theater. When interpretive speculation masquerades as factual investigation, we lose the ability to make the crucial distinctions that democracy requires.
Stephen Miller’s memorial speech was undoubtedly politically charged and emotionally intense. It reflected the raw feelings of a community processing trauma and seeking direction. But transforming this into evidence of Nazi plagiarism says more about our current political moment—its polarization, its tendency toward historical hyperbole, and its weakened analytical standards—than it does about any genuine fascist threat.
The real danger lies not in inflammatory memorial speeches, but in the erosion of our ability to think clearly about political rhetoric, historical comparison, and the difference between genuine threats and the ordinary rough-and-tumble of democratic discourse. In our rush to find fascists under every rock, we risk losing sight of what actual fascism looks like—and missing it when it truly appears.