Your Nervous System under Fascism

I never expected that a post about my nervous system’s response to fascism to blow up on Instagram.. But there I was, green tea in one hand and a lit joint in the other, watching my phone light up with hundreds of shares and DMs from therapy clients, respected educators, somatic practitioners, friends, and organizers. Even my partner, who usually avoids social media like the plague, messaged me: “OMG, this explains exactly how I feel watching the news.”

What does it mean to say fascism embeds itself in our nervous system? Through a decolonial lens and Polyvagal Theory, we’ll explore how state-manufactured fear hijacks our survival responses, and how understanding this can be a portal to healing, solidarity, and resistance.

Fear and the Polyvagal Theory 101

Polyvagal Theory, developed by neuroscientist, Stephen Porges, explains how our autonomic nervous system constantly scans for safety or danger, a subconscious process Porges calls neuroception. Depending on what we sense, we shift into different states:

Ventral Vagal (Social Engagement): the safe and connected mode when we feel secure. We can relax, think clearly, and connect with others.

Sympathetic (Fight/Flight): the alarm mode when the heart pumps and muscles tense. We are ready to confront a threat or run from it.

Dorsal Vagal (Freeze/Shutdown): the collapse mode when escape isn’t possible. We might shut down, feel numb or detached (think of a mouse playing dead).

Trauma experts also add a Fawn response: appeasing or people-pleasing to survive danger. It’s essentially “going along to get along” when facing a threat. Authoritarian systems encourage fawning compliance. As one writer, D.L. Mayfield, quipped, “The fawn response is the desired threat response for authoritarian parents, religious leaders, and governments.” In other words, oppressive regimes love people who have learned to freeze or submit rather than fight back.

Polyvagal Defense Hierarchy

Authoritarianism Hijacks Our Survival Responses

Authoritarian leaders know fear is a powerful political weapon. They flood the environment with cues of danger—terrorism, “invaders,” moral panic—that our neuroception reads as threats. Even if we aren’t consciously aware, our bodies react: muscles tense, hearts race, or a numb pit develops in the stomach.

Porges notes that when we perceive someone as dangerous (whether true or not), our nervous system automatically launches into defensive behaviors like fight, flight or freeze.

Real-world examples are everywhere.

pro trump rally.jpg Pro-Donald Trump rally in Washington, D.C. March 2017 (Wikicommons)

Donald Trump’s political return has been fueled by classic fear-mongering—portraying immigrants, dissidents, and the media as threats. This rhetoric pushes supporters into a chronic fight/flight state of anger and vigilance, while those targeted (immigrants, journalists) may experience terror or shutdown. A similar dynamic unfolds with anti-trans legislation in the so-called United States: lawmakers invoke fear to justify stripping away trans rights, which not only rallies some people’s fight response against a scapegoated group, but also forces trans folks into constant survival mode, scanning for danger and often fawning or hiding their true selves to stay safe.

Police violence against Black and Brown communities likewise keeps entire populations on high alert. For instance, a routine traffic stop can trigger intense flight/freeze reactions in people of color who have learned through lived experience (and generations of history) that such encounters can be life-threatening. Far-right movements from Europe to South America follow the same script: stoke fear of “others,” activate people’s survival instincts, and then promise order and security in exchange for obedience. It’s a vicious cycle. Fear is used to justify authoritarian control, and authoritarianism, in turn, creates more fear.

Trauma Responses: Wisdom, Not Weakness (A Decolonial View)

It’s vital to remember that trauma responses—fight, flight, freeze, fawn—are not personal failures. They are our bodies’ wise attempts to protect us. Somatic Practitioner and Licensed Clinical Social Worker, Resmaa Menakem, describes trauma as “a wordless story our body tells itself about what is safe and what is a threat.” If that story is shaped by constant danger, our responses reflect that. In fact, what outsiders might label “overreactions,” or even cultural stereotypes can be the result of historical trauma.

Indigenous scholars have long explained that trauma can be collective and intergenerational. Maria Brave Heart coined the term historical trauma to describe the “cumulative emotional and psychological wounding over generations” due to massive group traumas like colonization. Eduardo Duran, a Native psychologist, calls this the “soul wound,” a deep injury inflicted by colonization that gets passed down. He writes that “internalized oppression is a wound that, like a vampire bite, becomes embedded” in the people who experience abuse. In other words, when communities endure generations of violence and fear, they may carry the imprint of the oppressor in their own nervous systems.

What looks like freeze or fawn today may have its roots in what helped your ancestors survive. Menakem notes that after centuries of brutalization, our ancestors “stored trauma and intense survival energy, and passed these on to our children and grandchildren.” Seen this way, a community’s hyper-vigilance or tendency to withdraw isn’t weakness, it’s collective survival—wisdom born of living under attack.

A decolonial lens reminds us that Western psychology is only catching up to what Indigenous peoples have known: trauma is not just individual, and healing must be collective.

From Survival to Solidarity: Healing and Action

Understanding all this isn’t just an intellectual exercise, it’s a call to action. If fascism works by keeping us in survival mode, then one radical act is to reclaim our ventral vagal (safe and social) state. In practical terms, this means deliberately fostering safety, connection, and community.

Trauma specialist, Deb Dana, suggests that we can “stand up for what we believe in… from a place of regulation rather than from a state of protection.” In other words, when we feel grounded and safe in our bodies, we can respond to injustice with courage and creativity instead of reacting out of fear. Activist healers like Menakem even argue that activism can be a form of healing, an opportunity to process pain through action and break the cycles of trauma.

So, how do we get there? We start by befriending our nervous systems. We practice noticing whether we are in fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. We offer our bodies safety through breath, movement, reaching out to a friend, or remembering that we are not alone. Authoritarians want us to feel isolated and afraid. We subvert them by connecting and sharing our stories, honoring ancestral resilience, and co-creating pockets of safety and solidarity. A community drum circle, a protest rally that feels like a family gathering, a mutual aid network; these are acts of resistance as much as any policy fight. They help shift us (and those around us) out of fear and into the ventral vagal state of grounded power. From there, we can imagine and build societies that don’t run on fear, but on justice and care.

Call to Action: Our Bodies Remember, but They Can Also Re-learn

By recognizing how fascist systems trigger our deepest survival wiring, we can choose to do the opposite. We can create environments of safety that empower people rather than terrify them. This might mean educating our communities about trauma, holding space for collective grief and healing, or simply checking in with yourself and neighbors in these turbulent times. When we soothe our nervous systems, we don’t just feel better, we think more clearly and organize more effectively and efficiently. The more people operating from calm connection (instead of panic or shutdown), the more difficult it is for fear-based politics to take hold. Healing is a form of resistance. Let’s encourage one another to climb out of the survival basement and spend more time on the social roof where we can see the stars, share a meal, and plot the downfall of fear-fueled fascism together.

Reflection Questions for Grounding and Action

Body Check-In: When you consume news about social or political issues, what sensations do you notice in your body? Do you feel tense, numb, energized? What might this tell you about which state (fight, flight, freeze, etc.) you’re in?
Triggers and Ancestry: Think about a recent moment you felt fear or shut down in response to authority or conflict. How might this reaction connect to your community’s historical or ancestral experiences? (For example, what survival strategies did your parents, grandparents, or cultural group pass down?)
Finding Ventral Vagal: What people, places, or practices help you feel safe and connected (in a ventral vagal state)? How can you incorporate more of these in daily life, especially when fear in society is high?
From Reaction to Response: Recall a time you reacted in anger or froze up around an authoritarian figure or stressful event. With compassion for yourself, consider how, if you had felt more grounded or supported, you might have responded differently? What support or boundaries would help in future similar situations?
Collective Care: How can you contribute to a sense of safety and solidarity in your community? For instance, could you start a trauma-informed discussion group, a community care circle, or simply check on neighbors more often? Brainstorm one action that fosters connection and counters fear-based culture.

By reflecting on these questions, you’re not just intellectualizing, you’re listening to your body’s wisdom and taking steps toward healing in community. This is how we immunize ourselves against the lure of fascist fear. Together, rooted in safety and justice, we can break the trauma cycle and chart a new path forward.

Sources:

Dana, D. (2018). The polyvagal theory in therapy: Engaging the rhythm of regulation. W. W. Norton & Company.
Duran, E. (2006). Healing the soul wound: Counseling with American Indians and other Native peoples. Teachers College Press.
Menakem, R. (2017). My grandmother’s hands: Racialized trauma and the pathway to mending our hearts and bodies. Central Recovery Press.
Porges, S. W. (2011). The polyvagal theory: Neurophysiological foundations of emotions, attachment, communication, and self-regulation. W. W. Norton & Company.
Brave Heart, M. Y. H. (2003). The historical trauma response among natives and its relationship with substance abuse: A Lakota illustration. Journal of Psychoactive Drugs, 35(1), 7–13. https://doi.org/10.1080/02791072.2003.10399988