Losing power in America
The January 6 insurrection was not a spontaneous event, but rather the result of years of escalating political, social, and racial tensions in the United States. These tensions have deep historical roots, magnified by the election of Barack Obama, the country’s first Black president, and intensified with the rise of Donald Trump. Obama's presidency, which symbolized significant cultural and demographic shifts, provoked a strong reaction from certain segments of the population—often described as a "whitelash." This whitelash reflected a sense of fear and resentment, which Trump adeptly capitalized on, channeling these anxieties into a movement that ultimately led to an unprecedented attack on American democracy.
Barack Obama's election in 2008 was a landmark moment in American history, heralded as a significant step forward in the nation’s ongoing struggle for racial equality. For many, it was a symbol of hope and progress. However, for a significant portion of the country—particularly white Americans anxious about their cultural and political dominance—Obama's presidency was seen as a threat. The rise of a Black president sparked fears of a diminishing white majority and the erosion of traditional power structures. This fear manifested in a whitelash against the perceived loss of white political, social, and economic influence.
This whitelash was not solely about race, but it was undeniably tied to broader anxieties about the future of America’s identity. The election of a Black president represented a shift in power dynamics, and for some, it was a signal that the country was changing too quickly, leaving them behind. These feelings were stoked by long-standing racial grievances and narratives, such as the Lost Cause mythology, which romanticized the Confederacy and white Southern heritage, embedding deep-seated anxieties about race and power within segments of the population. This reactionary response to the Obama presidency laid the groundwork for a political climate ripe for the rise of Donald Trump.
Donald Trump’s entrance into the political scene was not a traditional one. A businessman and television personality, he had little political experience, but he understood how to tap into the anxieties and frustrations of a significant portion of the American electorate. His political career was launched with the baseless and racially charged "birther" conspiracy theory, which questioned Barack Obama’s citizenship and legitimacy as president. This conspiracy played into long-standing fears of a foreign, non-white "other" taking over the country, and Trump used it to galvanize a base that felt increasingly disconnected from the changing cultural and political landscape.
Trump’s rhetoric during his 2016 campaign further exploited these anxieties. His promise to "Make America Great Again" was a thinly veiled appeal to those nostalgic for a past when white dominance was unquestioned. His harsh stance on immigration, including the infamous pledge to build a wall along the U.S.-Mexico border, tapped into fears of demographic change and the loss of American identity. Trump positioned himself as the champion of a forgotten America, one that felt betrayed by elites, threatened by multiculturalism, and left behind by globalization.
What set Trump apart from traditional politicians was his willingness to stoke division rather than heal it. His speeches were filled with inflammatory rhetoric that painted his political opponents and critics as enemies, creating an "us versus them" mentality. This strategy worked. Trump’s base, feeling under siege from shifting demographics and cultural changes, became fervently loyal. This polarization deepened existing social and political divides, and Trump’s willingness to spread disinformation—particularly about issues like immigration, crime, and race—further fueled a sense of grievance and resentment among his supporters.
One of the most insidious aspects of Trump’s rise to power was his embrace of disinformation and conspiracy theories, which became central to his political brand. Throughout his presidency, Trump routinely undermined trust in the media, science, and democratic institutions, often labeling any information that contradicted him as "fake news." This strategy not only deepened the divide between his supporters and the broader public but also laid the groundwork for widespread distrust in the electoral process itself.
Foreign adversaries, particularly Russia and China, seized on this vulnerability. Russia’s interference in the 2016 election, detailed in the Mueller Report, was a striking example of how disinformation campaigns could exploit America’s internal divisions. Russian operatives used social media platforms to amplify racial tensions, promote conspiracy theories, and create confusion and discord within the U.S. political system. The Seth Rich conspiracy, which falsely claimed that the young DNC staffer was murdered by Democrats, and other disinformation narratives further polarized the public, creating an environment where many Americans were primed to distrust institutions and embrace falsehoods.
As the 2020 election approached, Trump and his allies ramped up disinformation efforts, particularly around mail-in voting and the integrity of the electoral process. Trump repeatedly claimed, without evidence, that the election would be "rigged" and that widespread voter fraud would occur—especially in states that were pivotal to his reelection prospects. When he lost the 2020 election, Trump refused to concede, doubling down on his baseless claims of a stolen election. This "Big Lie" became the rallying cry for his most ardent supporters, who were convinced that their country was being taken from them.
The COVID-19 pandemic, which emerged in early 2020, quickly became not only a global health crisis but also a catalyst for deepening political divisions in the United States. The virus's spread and the subsequent government responses to it were heavily politicized, creating an environment where misinformation thrived. In particular, the Trump administration’s inconsistent messaging and downplaying of the virus fueled confusion and mistrust. From the outset, President Trump minimized the threat of COVID-19, even comparing it to the flu, despite knowing its severity, as revealed in later reports. This laid the foundation for a widespread rejection of public health measures such as masks, social distancing, and, later, vaccines, as partisan symbols rather than essential tools for controlling the virus.
As the pandemic progressed, disinformation campaigns, both foreign and domestic, exploited the uncertainty surrounding the virus. China, in particular, was accused of spreading misinformation about the virus's origins, while Russia amplified conspiracy theories that questioned the legitimacy of U.S. public health responses. These campaigns sowed confusion and heightened distrust in scientific institutions, with Dr. Anthony Fauci becoming a frequent target of attacks. Conspiracy theories that painted Fauci as part of a nefarious "deep state" effort to control the public gained traction, further polarizing the nation. This distrust of science and health professionals, stoked by foreign disinformation efforts and echoed by right-wing media, contributed to widespread skepticism about the pandemic’s severity and the government’s handling of it.
Trump’s refusal to follow public health guidelines also fueled these divisions. His dismissal of masks, reluctance to endorse widespread testing, and downplaying of the virus created an environment where his supporters saw public health measures as an infringement on their personal freedoms. This anti-government sentiment was closely tied to the rhetoric of Trump’s campaign and presidency, which often cast government institutions, the media, and experts as untrustworthy or corrupt. The rejection of public health mandates became another front in the culture wars, as Trump supporters resisted lockdowns and mask mandates, framing them as part of a broader effort to erode their individual liberties.
These tensions surrounding COVID-19 restrictions and the spread of misinformation significantly contributed to the fervor that culminated in the January 6 insurrection. The politicization of the pandemic, coupled with widespread distrust in government and media institutions, helped sow the seeds for Trump’s baseless claims of a stolen election. For many of the insurrectionists, resisting lockdowns, mask mandates, and vaccines was part of the same ideological battle as opposing what they saw as a fraudulent election. Their frustration with COVID-19 restrictions provided the emotional fuel needed to justify their actions, emboldening those who felt Trump was their only hope to "take back" their country. But, these events cannot be fully understood without considering the racial tensions that reached a boiling point after the murder of George Floyd in May 2020. The nationwide protests against systemic racism and police brutality sparked a parallel wave of backlash from those who viewed the growing calls for racial justice as a threat to their vision of America.
The killing of George Floyd on May 25, 2020, ignited a wave of protests across the United States and the world, marking a pivotal moment in the ongoing struggle for racial justice. Floyd’s death, captured on video as a police officer knelt on his neck for over nine minutes, became a symbol of the systemic racism and police brutality that Black Americans have faced for generations. Coming amid the COVID-19 pandemic, the incident highlighted not only the racial disparities in policing but also the broader social and economic inequalities exacerbated by the health crisis. The Black Lives Matter movement, which had already been active for several years, quickly gained renewed momentum as millions took to the streets to demand justice for Floyd and other Black victims of police violence, including Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery.
The pandemic provided a stark backdrop to these protests, as Black communities were disproportionately impacted by COVID-19. Higher infection and death rates among Black Americans exposed deep inequities in access to healthcare, economic opportunity, and living conditions. This added urgency to the calls for justice, as the same systemic racism that led to over-policing and violence against Black people also played a role in the unequal effects of the pandemic. Protesters saw Floyd’s death not just as an isolated incident but as part of a broader pattern of institutional racism that was being laid bare by the virus. As protests erupted in cities across the U.S., the country found itself grappling with both a public health crisis and a racial reckoning.
However, the Black Lives Matter protests also intensified racial tensions, particularly during the pandemic. While millions supported the movement and its calls for reform, others saw the protests as a threat to the status quo. Right-wing media and some political figures portrayed the demonstrations as violent riots, stoking fear and resentment. This narrative was used to rally opposition against the movement, with critics arguing that the protests, especially during a pandemic, were irresponsible and dangerous. Despite the fact that many protests were peaceful and organizers often encouraged mask-wearing and social distancing, the racial tensions surrounding the protests became another divisive issue in an already polarized nation.
These racial tensions were further exacerbated by the Trump administration’s response to the protests. Rather than acknowledging the legitimate grievances of the Black Lives Matter movement, President Trump condemned the protests, calling for "law and order" and threatening to deploy federal troops to cities where demonstrations were taking place. This rhetoric played into the existing fear and resentment among many of Trump’s supporters, who viewed the protests as part of a broader effort to undermine American values and traditions. Trump’s divisive response only deepened the racial and political divides, further polarizing the country at a time when unity was desperately needed to address both the pandemic and the racial justice crisis.
The intersection of COVID-19 and the racial tensions brought about by the George Floyd protests created a volatile and deeply polarized environment. The Black Lives Matter movement, while galvanizing millions in the fight for racial equality, also became a focal point for resistance from those who saw it as a threat to the established order. The racial tensions that emerged during this period, fueled by disinformation and political opportunism, not only heightened the sense of division within the country but also contributed to the growing mistrust of institutions, laying the groundwork for the unrest that would culminate in the January 6 insurrection.
Prior to the killing of George Floyd, the political landscape around law enforcement, particularly within MAGA rallies, was complex and at times contradictory. Many MAGA supporters expressed frustration toward police and government authorities, especially in the context of the COVID-19 lockdowns and restrictions. During these early 2020 protests, particularly those against stay-at-home orders and mask mandates, MAGA-aligned demonstrators often clashed with police forces, directing their anger toward perceived government overreach. Ironically, however, this attitude dramatically shifted after George Floyd's death, as these same MAGA supporters began vocally defending law enforcement in the face of widespread protests against police brutality, especially those led by Black Lives Matter. This pivot reveals the underlying racial dynamics and contradictions within the MAGA movement, as well as the deeper frustrations and confusion of a political base struggling with an economic and political system that wasn’t working for them.
For example, on April 30, 2020, prior to George Floyd’s death, armed militia members occupied the state house in Lansing, Michigan, in protest of COVID-19 policies. The demonstrators, driven by conspiracy theories and misinformation, believed that the state's public health measures, such as lockdowns and mask mandates, infringed on their personal freedoms. They accosted law enforcement and lawmakers, attempting to gain access to the legislature while it was in session and voting on COVID-19 policies. The protestors viewed these measures as dictatorial, fueled by a growing paranoia and fear that was stoked by individuals in power who benefitted from their outrage.
This event reflected a deep frustration within the MAGA movement. Many of Trump’s supporters, particularly working-class whites in rural areas, were already feeling economically disenfranchised, left behind by globalization, deindustrialization, and automation. The pandemic and subsequent lockdowns worsened their economic insecurity, leading to increased anger and resentment. However, the target of this anger was often vague, directed at “the government,” state governors, or even the police enforcing the lockdown measures. There was a sense of frustration with the state and the political establishment, but the true source of their discontent—Republican leadership and the policies they had long supported—was largely overlooked.
After George Floyd’s murder, when protests erupted across the United States, led by Black Lives Matter and other groups calling for an end to police brutality and systemic racism, almost overnight, the focus of MAGA rallies shifted from opposition to government overreach and law enforcement to staunch support of the police. The slogan "Back the Blue" became ubiquitous at MAGA rallies, as supporters doubled down on their defense of law enforcement, framing the protests against police brutality as attacks on law and order.
This sudden shift highlights the racial undercurrents of the MAGA movement. When predominantly white, MAGA-aligned protesters were angry about lockdowns and government mandates, they had no issue directing their ire at law enforcement. But when Black people began protesting police violence and systemic racism, the tone changed. MAGA supporters, who had previously seen police as enforcers of government overreach, suddenly aligned themselves with law enforcement in opposition to the Black Lives Matter movement. The racial dynamics were hard to ignore: MAGA rallies, which were overwhelmingly white, began framing their support for the police as a defense of "American values" against what they saw as Black-led civil unrest.
The contrast between these two moments—MAGA frustration with police pre-George Floyd and MAGA’s embrace of police post-George Floyd—reveals a core contradiction in the movement. Their support for law enforcement wasn’t about principle or a genuine belief in the sanctity of law and order. Instead, it was about who was perceived as the threat. When the threat was a virus or a government mandate that disrupted their lives, MAGA supporters had no issue opposing the police. But when the threat was framed as Black people protesting for their rights, the MAGA movement turned to supporting law enforcement, exposing the racial motivations behind their sudden embrace of "Back the Blue."
This shift also highlights the broader frustration within the MAGA movement, which, at its core, is composed of many people who feel economically and socially disenfranchised. They are living in a country where the economic system isn’t working for them, and many of the promises made by Republican leadership, including Donald Trump, have not materialized. For years, Trump and the GOP have championed tax cuts for the wealthy, deregulation, and corporate-friendly policies that have done little to improve the lives of the working-class base that makes up much of the MAGA movement.
Yet, instead of directing their anger toward the very Republican leadership that has overseen policies contributing to their economic hardship, many MAGA supporters have latched onto scapegoats—whether it be the "deep state," immigrants, or the Black Lives Matter movement. This misdirection of anger is not uncommon in populist movements, where complex economic and political realities are often simplified and projected onto easily identifiable targets. In the case of the MAGA movement, the racial component of these scapegoats cannot be ignored. Supporting the police in the face of Black protests allowed MAGA supporters to channel their frustration into a more palatable narrative about defending "law and order" and "American values," while ignoring the deeper systemic issues that were truly impacting their lives.
The events at Detroit’s TCF Center the day after the 2020 election are reflective of the rising racial tensions. As mail-in ballots were being counted in the majority-Black city, a predominantly white crowd of Trump supporters, incited by baseless claims of election fraud, gathered both outside and inside the building. Their presence soon escalated into chaos, with individuals banging on windows, shouting accusations, and demanding an end to the count.
For many Black poll workers, the scene was terrifying. Surrounded by a mob whose actions and rhetoric seemed driven not just by a desire to contest the election results but also by long-standing racial animosities, they became the targets of intimidation and harassment. The sight of white agitators attempting to storm the vote-counting area recalled dark memories of violent efforts to suppress Black political power, a hallmark of Jim Crow-era voter suppression.
The mob’s actions — emboldened by misinformation and the stoking of racial fears from Trump and his allies — reflected a racialized distrust aimed squarely at Black voters and poll workers. The parallels to past efforts to delegitimize and intimidate Black political participation were unmistakable, as the event became a flashpoint in the broader battle to protect democratic integrity against forces seeking to undermine it.
Later that month, the Million MAGA March, held on November 14, 2020, in Washington D.C., was organized by supporters of then-President Donald Trump in response to Trump’s baseless claims of widespread voter fraud. Beyond being a show of support for Trump, the march highlighted the deep racial undertones of the voter fraud narrative—a narrative that was not just about questioning the integrity of the election, but about a white, conservative base reacting to the growing political power of Black and minority voters. The march symbolized the growing division in American politics, fueled by right-wing media and conspiracy theories about the integrity of the election, but it also served as a platform for expressing racial anxiety about the changing demographics of the country and fears that the political power of white Americans was slipping.
The 2020 election saw a record turnout, especially among Black voters in key battleground states like Georgia, Michigan, and Pennsylvania—states that ultimately swung the election in Joe Biden's favor. Trump’s claims of voter fraud were disproportionately focused on cities with large Black populations, such as Atlanta, Detroit, Milwaukee, and Philadelphia. These cities were repeatedly targeted by Trump’s legal team and his supporters, who alleged, without evidence, that the election results in these predominantly Black and minority communities were fraudulent. This focus was not coincidental—it played into long-standing racist stereotypes about voter fraud being more prevalent in communities of color, even though no evidence supported these claims.
At its core, the "Stop the Steal" movement, which became the rallying cry for Trump’s supporters, was built on the idea that the votes of minority communities were illegitimate or less valid. By focusing their claims on cities with large Black and brown populations, Trump and his allies were suggesting that the democratic participation of these communities was somehow fraudulent, implicitly reinforcing the notion that only votes from predominantly white, rural areas were legitimate. This narrative perpetuated the idea that white voters were the "real" Americans, while minority voters were framed as outsiders whose influence was undermining the country.
The Million MAGA March and the broader voter fraud narrative also tapped into a deeper fear among many white Americans about losing political power in an increasingly diverse nation. The 2020 election marked a significant shift in the political landscape, with higher turnout from minority groups, particularly Black Americans, Latinos, and Asian Americans, playing a decisive role in key swing states. This demographic change threatens the long-standing political dominance of white Americans, particularly in conservative strongholds, and the voter fraud claims served as a proxy for this racial anxiety.
For many white Trump supporters, the idea that their political preferences were being overridden by a more diverse electorate was deeply unsettling. The voter fraud narrative allowed them to frame this discomfort as a matter of preserving democracy, rather than confronting the racial dynamics at play. In reality, the fears being stoked by Trump and right-wing media were about maintaining white political dominance in the face of a changing electorate. Trump’s refusal to accept the results of the election was not just about preserving his personal power, but about channeling a broader fear that white Americans were losing their grip on the country.
Far-right groups like the Proud Boys and Oath Keepers, which were prominent at the Million MAGA March, have long histories of promoting white nationalist ideologies. Their involvement in the event further underscores the racial motivations behind the voter fraud narrative. These groups saw the march as an opportunity to advance their own goals of protecting what they perceive to be the rightful social and political order—one in which white Americans maintain control. One of the most prominent incidents occurred when groups of Proud Boys vandalized Black Lives Matter signs and banners at several churches in downtown Washington, D.C. In particular, the historic Asbury United Methodist Church, a Black church with deep historical ties to the civil rights movement, had its Black Lives Matter banner torn down and set on fire by Trump supporters. This act of vandalism was widely condemned, including by the church’s pastor, who described the incident as a hate crime targeting the Black community.
There were also multiple assaults throughout the day. Videos circulated showing Trump supporters attacking counter-protesters, and in some cases, people were beaten in the streets. The Washington D.C. police reported at least 21 arrests for charges ranging from assault to illegal weapons possession. Multiple people were hospitalized as a result of the violence.
Right-wing media outlets like One America News Network (OANN) and Newsmax provided favorable coverage of the event, emphasizing the large turnout and downplaying the instances of violence. Conservative commentators framed the event as a patriotic rally, focusing on Trump’s speech and the claims of voter fraud that continued to be propagated. In contrast, mainstream media and left-leaning outlets highlighted the violence and property destruction, with particular focus on the involvement of extremist groups.
The media framing of the event further polarized the nation. For many Trump supporters, the Million MAGA March was seen as a legitimate expression of their First Amendment rights and a final attempt to defend what they believed to be a stolen election. For others, the violence and extremist presence at the march were yet another example of how Trump’s rhetoric was inflaming tensions and undermining democracy.
The rhetoric of these groups during the march often focused on the idea of preserving "traditional" American values, which for them are inextricably tied to maintaining white supremacy. By framing the election as fraudulent and illegitimate, these groups were not only rejecting the political will of a more diverse electorate but also signaling their commitment to a racial hierarchy that has historically marginalized people of color. For the Proud Boys, Oath Keepers, and similar groups, the march was as much about resisting demographic change as it was about contesting the election.
The broader MAGA base, however, was not composed solely of extremists. Many Trump supporters who attended the march were likely motivated by a sense of frustration and confusion about why their country wasn’t working for them. Years of stagnant wages, economic instability, and a sense of cultural alienation had left many feeling disillusioned, particularly in rural and working-class white communities. The voter fraud narrative offered a convenient scapegoat for these frustrations—suggesting that their declining political power wasn’t due to the policies of the leaders they supported, but rather to a rigged system manipulated by minority voters and Democrats.
In reality, much of this anger should have been directed at the very Republican leadership these voters had supported for years. Economic policies favoring the wealthy, deregulation, and a failure to address the needs of working-class Americans have disproportionately harmed the very communities that form the backbone of the MAGA movement. But instead of reckoning with these policy failures, many Trump supporters latched onto the voter fraud narrative, redirecting their anger toward minority communities and urban centers.
The Million MAGA March, while framed as a protest against voter fraud, was in many ways a manifestation of deeper racial anxieties within the MAGA movement. Trump’s baseless claims of election fraud were largely focused on Black and minority voters in urban areas, feeding into long-standing racial stereotypes and fears about the loss of white political power. The presence of extremist groups like the Proud Boys and Oath Keepers further highlighted the racial motivations behind the event, as these groups sought to protect a racial hierarchy that was being challenged by demographic changes. For many participants, the march was not just about contesting the results of an election, but about preserving a social order in which white Americans maintained dominance. In this way, the Million MAGA March served as a stark reminder of the racial divisions that continue to shape American politics.
The Million MAGA March, while originally presented as a protest against alleged election fraud, can also be seen as a precursor to the violent storming of the U.S. Capitol on January 6, 2021. The march was, in many ways, a practice run for the insurrection that would follow just weeks later, showcasing not only the capacity of Trump’s supporters to mobilize but also the willingness of certain factions within that movement to resort to violence and intimidation when faced with political outcomes they opposed. It demonstrated the ability of far-right groups, such as the Proud Boys, Oath Keepers, and other paramilitary and extremist organizations, to coordinate and participate in violent actions under the guise of protecting democracy. The tactics used during the Million MAGA March—violent clashes with counter-protesters, destruction of property, and general disregard for law enforcement when it suited their agenda—mirrored what would happen on a much larger scale during the January 6 Capitol riot.
The rhetoric that fueled both events was eerily similar. Trump’s continued insistence on the election being stolen was the underlying thread that united these events. At the Million MAGA March, participants openly called for drastic measures, often using language that implied that violent action might be necessary to reverse what they perceived as an illegitimate outcome. While the violence during the march was limited to street clashes and property damage, it was a clear signal that this movement was growing more emboldened and radicalized, laying the groundwork for the much larger and more coordinated attack on the Capitol.
Many of the same groups and individuals who played significant roles in the January 6 insurrection were active participants in the Million MAGA March. The Proud Boys, who were highly visible during the march, were later instrumental in organizing and leading parts of the attack on the Capitol. Their leader, Enrique Tarrio, was present at the Million MAGA March and later involved in planning the January 6 event. Other far-right militias, such as the Oath Keepers, used the Million MAGA March to test their ability to mobilize and work together, which became crucial during the Capitol siege.
The December 12, 2020, riots in Washington, D.C., by pro-Trump supporters were another key moment in the escalation of violence and extremism that would culminate in the January 6, 2021, insurrection at the U.S. Capitol. Like the Million MAGA March held a month earlier, this event, too, was driven by Donald Trump’s false claims of widespread voter fraud and the baseless assertion that the 2020 election had been stolen. The December 12 event, however, marked a more intense and violent phase, as extremist groups like the Proud Boys and Oath Keepers took center stage in street clashes and property destruction, further emboldening the far-right movement.
By mid-December, Trump’s efforts to overturn the election results were failing. His legal team had lost almost all of their cases, and the Electoral College had officially certified Joe Biden’s victory. Despite these legal defeats, Trump and his allies continued to stoke baseless conspiracy theories about the election, urging their supporters to “fight back” against what they falsely described as a stolen election.
This rhetoric reached a fever pitch in the days leading up to December 12, when Trump-supporting groups organized a “Stop the Steal” rally in Washington, D.C. The rally was promoted as a way for Trump’s supporters to show their loyalty and demand that Congress overturn the election results. Right-wing influencers, including conspiracy theorists and extremist leaders, called for large turnouts and inflamed tensions by warning that America’s democratic system was under attack. The involvement of extremist groups like the Proud Boys was clear from the outset, as their leader, Enrique Tarrio, openly promised a strong showing from his group, which had a history of violence at political rallies.
On the night of December 12, thousands of Trump supporters gathered in Washington, D.C., for the rally. While the day began with speeches and demonstrations, the event quickly devolved into street brawls, rioting, and vandalism as night fell. Pro-Trump demonstrators, including members of the Proud Boys, clashed with counter-protesters from left-wing groups like Antifa and Black Lives Matter. The fighting was brutal and widespread, with videos surfacing of street battles, assaults, and bloodied participants.
Members of the Proud Boys were highly visible throughout the day, wearing their distinctive black and yellow colors and combat gear. They roamed the streets, engaging in coordinated attacks against perceived enemies. The Proud Boys, again, tore down Black Lives Matter banners from two Black churches in the city and set them on fire. These acts of racialized vandalism, particularly targeting historic Black churches, were widely condemned as hate crimes, further highlighting the racial undertones of the movement. But, the violence on December 12 was not limited to these incidents. Throughout the night, members of far-right groups attacked journalists, counter-protesters, and even police officers. Several stabbings were reported, and police arrested dozens of people, though many of the instigators escaped without facing consequences. The intensity of the clashes, the destruction of property, and the blatant racial animosity displayed during the December riots were signs that Trump’s base was growing more radical and less restrained, setting the stage for further escalation.
The December 12 riots served as a critical inflection point in the lead-up to the January 6 Capitol insurrection. The event demonstrated that Trump’s supporters, particularly the far-right extremists, were willing to use violence to achieve their political goals. The clashes in D.C. were not just spontaneous outbursts, but a part of a growing pattern of violent protest movements that were increasingly normalized within Trump’s base.
Crucially, Trump himself continued to encourage these actions. Even as violence broke out in D.C., Trump tweeted his support for the rally, thanking participants for their loyalty and echoing the false claims that fueled their rage. His refusal to condemn the rioting, along with his constant promotion of the idea that the election was rigged, signaled to his supporters that violence might be an acceptable way to “save” the country.
The December 12 riots also provided a tactical blueprint for the far-right groups that would later storm the Capitol on January 6. The Proud Boys, in particular, used the December event as a practice run for more coordinated efforts. Their ability to mobilize quickly, create chaos in the streets, and evade significant consequences gave them confidence that they could escalate their actions. The lack of a firm law enforcement response to the December 12 riots emboldened these groups, leading them to believe they could act with impunity.
Between December 12 and January 6, the situation only grew more volatile. Trump and his allies continued to promote rallies and events to contest the certification of the election results, focusing on January 6 as a last stand. Right-wing social media platforms were flooded with calls to action, many of which were openly violent. The December 12 riots, while not as large in scale as the forthcoming January 6 insurrection, were a critical turning point in demonstrating how willing the far-right had become to engage in political violence.
By the time January 6 arrived, far-right extremists had honed their tactics through events like the December 12 riots. They had learned how to coordinate violent actions, how to attack vulnerable targets, and how to exploit political rallies to further their own agenda. The December riots were not merely an outburst of rage, but a harbinger of the far more devastating violence that would come with the Capitol insurrection.
Trump’s base was engulfed in confusion, genuinely believing that their country was being stolen from them—a fear amplified by their trusted leaders. For months, they were fed a steady stream of misinformation portraying Black Lives Matter and antifa as violent forces bent on destabilizing America, killing police officers, and threatening their way of life. The sense of existential crisis deepened as right-wing media outlets and political figures equated mask mandates with concentration camps, fueling paranoia and heightening fears that drastic, even violent, action was necessary to save the nation.
This atmosphere of fear and distrust was not spontaneous—it was carefully cultivated. Extremist groups like the Oath Keepers and Proud Boys had long been organizing, using riots and violent protests as trial runs for more significant actions. Their readiness to use violence was evident in previous clashes, and these confrontations served as testing grounds for their tactics. The culmination of this dangerous rhetoric and organized mobilization occurred on January 6, 2021, when these groups played pivotal roles in storming the U.S. Capitol.
The January 6 insurrection was a shocking and violent assault on the U.S. Capitol, carried out by a mob of thousands of Trump supporters determined to overturn the results of the 2020 presidential election. Estimates place the crowd that gathered in Washington, D.C., on that day between 10,000 to 30,000 people, though the number of those who actively stormed the Capitol was smaller, around 2,000 to 2,500. Many of these individuals were members or sympathizers of extremist groups like the Proud Boys and Oath Keepers, who had been organizing for months and saw the event as an opportunity to enact violence on behalf of their political cause.
The gathering itself was set in motion by Donald Trump, who had been relentlessly spreading false claims of election fraud, focusing particularly on urban areas with large Black populations. In the weeks leading up to January 6, Trump had called for his supporters to come to Washington, stating that it would be “wild.” His rhetoric stoked anger and a sense of betrayal, as he repeatedly insisted the election had been stolen. This narrative resonated deeply with his base, many of whom felt they were acting to save the country from a fraudulent government takeover.
On the morning of January 6, Trump addressed the crowd at the “Save America” rally near the White House. His speech was laced with incitement, urging his followers to march to the Capitol and "fight like hell" to stop the certification of Joe Biden’s electoral victory. Trump told the crowd, “We’re going to walk down, and I’ll be there with you...You’ll never take back our country with weakness. You have to show strength and you have to be strong.” These words, combined with months of lies and fearmongering, were interpreted by many in the crowd as a direct call to storm the Capitol.
As the rally ended, thousands of supporters began marching toward the Capitol, where Congress was in the process of certifying the Electoral College results. Among them were groups with clear intentions to disrupt the certification: the Proud Boys, Oath Keepers, and other far-right extremists. Many were wearing tactical gear, carrying weapons, and equipped with communication devices, indicating a level of premeditated organization. Some had even scouted the Capitol days prior, preparing for the attack.
When the mob reached the Capitol grounds, chaos erupted. People overwhelmed the police barricades, attacking officers with flagpoles, chemical sprays, and physical force. The crowd smashed windows, broke down doors, and eventually breached the halls of Congress. Inside, the rioters vandalized offices, looted, and searched for lawmakers, chanting slogans like "Hang Mike Pence" and "Nancy, where are you?" Their intentions were clear: to stop the certification of the election, disrupt the democratic process, and, for some, to cause harm to lawmakers they viewed as enemies.
Many in the mob believed they were acting under Trump’s orders, taking extreme measures to "save" the country from what they saw as an illegitimate government. This belief was reinforced by Trump’s own failure to swiftly condemn the violence as it unfolded. Instead, he released a video hours into the attack, telling the rioters to go home but adding, “We love you, you’re very special.”
The aftermath of January 6 revealed just how meticulously some of the rioters had planned their actions. Investigations showed that groups like the Oath Keepers had coordinated on social media and encrypted platforms in the weeks before the attack, discussing how to bring weapons and storm the Capitol. Some of these individuals have since been charged with crimes like seditious conspiracy, reflecting the gravity of their intentions to disrupt the peaceful transfer of power.
Ultimately, the January 6 insurrection was the culmination of months of false claims, conspiracy theories, and deliberate incitement by political leaders, especially Trump. The mob’s goal was not only to stop the certification of Biden’s election but also to assert their power over the democratic process—by any means necessary, including violence. The attack left a lasting scar on the nation, forcing a reckoning with the fragility of democracy and the dangers of unchecked disinformation and extremist ideology.
The January 6 insurrection was not only a political assault on democratic institutions but also a reflection of the heightened racial tensions that had been simmering in the country. Many of those who stormed the Capitol were motivated not just by loyalty to Trump but by a deep-seated fear of a changing America—one in which Black and Brown communities, long marginalized, were gaining political power.
In the months leading up to the attack, Trump and his allies repeatedly targeted cities with large Black populations, such as Detroit, Philadelphia, and Atlanta, baselessly accusing them of widespread voter fraud. These cities became symbols of what Trump’s supporters saw as a rigged system—a system where the voices of Black voters were delegitimized and undermined. This racialized narrative, amplified by conspiracy theories, played a critical role in stoking the anger and fear that culminated in the Capitol attack.
The imagery of a predominantly white mob violently storming a symbol of American democracy, waving Confederate flags, and erecting a gallows was reminiscent of a dark chapter in the nation’s history. For many, it echoed the Jim Crow era, when Black political participation was met with violence and intimidation. The insurrection was, in part, an attempt to reassert white dominance over a political process that was increasingly reflecting the country’s racial and ethnic diversity.
The attack on the Capitol, therefore, was not just about overturning an election. It was also about resisting the demographic and cultural shifts in America, where Black voters had played a decisive role in Trump’s defeat. The racial undertones of January 6 cannot be ignored, as the mob’s actions were deeply intertwined with a broader fear of losing power in an evolving nation.
In the wake of January 6, the country was left to confront not only the dangers of disinformation and political extremism but also the enduring legacy of racial division. The attack laid bare the tensions between those who embrace a multicultural, pluralistic democracy and those who feel threatened by it, forcing a national reckoning with how these forces continue to shape American politics and society.
It was out of the news cycle in weeks.
