The 2025 film Nuremberg tells the story of the trials that followed the fall of Nazi Germany. It focuses on the prosecution of leading Nazi officials after the war, especially Hermann Göring, Adolf Hitler’s second in command.
The film also highlights the work of Supreme Court Justice Robert H. Jackson, who led the American prosecution during the Nuremberg Trials.
Grady Throneberry
Watching the film today is unsettling. Not simply because of the crimes described but because of the psychology on display and parallels to our current environment.
Göring does not appear as a wild-eyed villain. He appears calm. Rational. Even persuasive. That is what makes the film so disturbing. Evil rarely looks like a monster. More often it speaks in confident tones, wraps itself in patriotism and insists it is defending the nation.
In one scene, Göring explains how populations can be led toward war and repression. The method, he says, is simple: Convince people they are under threat, then accuse critics of lacking patriotism. Fear becomes the lever. Loyalty becomes the test.
“Evil rarely looks like a monster.”
History shows how effective that strategy can be.
The Nazi regime did not seize power in a vacuum. It grew in a climate of economic anxiety, cultural resentment and political instability. Germany in the 1930s was a wounded nation. Many citizens felt humiliated by the outcome of World War I. Economic collapse deepened the anger. Into that climate stepped leaders who promised strength, national renewal and the restoration of dignity.
Sound familiar?
Those promises came with a price.
The Nazis created a story about who belonged and who did not. They built political power by identifying enemies — Jews, intellectuals, journalists, minorities and political opponents. Today some of our leaders have added gays, trans Americans and immigrants. Over time, language hardened. Opponents no longer were simply wrong. They were traitors, parasites, threats to the nation.
Once that language becomes normal, cruelty becomes easier.
The Nuremberg film shows this clearly during Göring’s testimony. He insists he was simply serving his country. He claims loyalty to the state justified his actions. The defense is chilling because it reveals a deeper truth about authoritarian systems: People often commit terrible acts while believing they are acting responsibly or, at least, trying to convince everyone else they have the high moral ground.
“People often commit terrible acts while believing they are acting responsibly.”
That is one of the central lessons of Nuremberg.
The danger is not only tyrants. The danger is ordinary people who become comfortable with injustice.
Justice Jackson understood this. His opening statement at the trials remains one of the most powerful speeches in modern legal history. He warned the law must apply even to those who once held power. Otherwise, civilization itself becomes fragile.
The trials were not perfect. They were shaped by politics and by the realities of the moment. Yet they established an important principle: Leaders cannot hide behind nationalism, obedience or political loyalty to escape responsibility for crimes.
That principle matters today.
The United States is not Nazi Germany. The historical contexts are vastly different. Yet history still offers warnings. The patterns that allowed authoritarianism to grow in the past can appear in any society.
One pattern is the normalization of political hostility. When disagreement turns into demonization, democracy weakens. The language of public life begins to shift from debate to accusation.
Again, sound familiar?
“When disagreement turns into demonization, democracy weakens.”
Another pattern is the erosion of truth. Authoritarian movements depend on controlling the narrative. When facts become negotiable and institutions lose credibility, people retreat into tribes of belief rather than shared reality.
Fear is another familiar tool. When leaders convince citizens the nation faces existential threats — from immigrants, from minorities, from political opponents — people may accept measures they otherwise would reject. And we know fear is a more compelling motivator than any other emotion.
History shows freedom rarely disappears all at once. It erodes slowly. One policy at a time. One justification at a time. Each step presented as necessary for security our national survival.
The film Nuremberg also reminds us resistance often begins with small acts of courage.
Some Germans opposed the regime. Some hid Jews. Some spoke out despite the danger. Their stories rarely dominate history books, yet they represent another important truth: Individuals still have moral agency even in dark times.
That lesson is especially relevant in today’s polarized American climate.
Our political culture is increasingly shaped by suspicion and anger. Media ecosystems reward outrage. Social media amplifies fear and conspiracy. Many Americans now view their political opponents not simply as mistaken but as enemies of the nation.
That shift should concern us all.
Democracy requires disagreement. But it cannot survive sustained dehumanization.
When we begin to believe half the country is evil, the ground beneath democratic institutions begins to weaken. Compromise becomes betrayal. Cooperation becomes impossible. Political identity becomes a moral battlefield.
“Democracy requires disagreement. But it cannot survive sustained dehumanization.”
The lesson of Nuremberg is not that Americans are Nazis. That kind of careless comparison cheapens history. The real lesson is more subtle and more important.
Authoritarianism grows through human habits:
- It grows when citizens accept lies because the lies serve their tribe.
- It grows when leaders use fear to consolidate power.
- It grows when people excuse cruelty because the targets are unpopular.
- It grows when loyalty replaces conscience.
And it shrinks when ordinary people refuse those habits.
Justice Jackson once warned the record created at Nuremberg would stand as a warning to the future. We should listen. The trials were meant to show that civilization must hold power accountable, even after the worst crimes imaginable.
That warning still stands.
The film Nuremberg is not simply a historical drama. It is a reminder that democracy depends on moral vigilance. Every generation must decide what kind of political culture it will tolerate.
History does not repeat itself in exact form. But it often rhymes. And sometimes the echoes are loud enough that we shouldn’t ignore them.
Grady Throneberry is a speaker, author, coach, pastor, retired police chief and member of Crescent Hill Baptist Church in Louisville, Ky.
Related article:
Judgment at Nuremberg calls us to repentance | Opinion by Rebecca Johnson