Why does Greg Bovino's coat evoke Nazi aesthetics?
What's been happening lately in MinneapolisThe violent repression and deaths of civilians in the context of protests and public expressions of dissent are profoundly incomprehensible in a nation that, since its founding, has elevated freedom to the status of a patriotic ideal. This freedom has been instrumentalized for decades as a rhetorical pretext to legitimize the systematic violation of fundamental rights. The mere fact that paramilitary forces have to be deployed in the streets to intimidate the population demonstrates the extent to which the freedom and defense of the American people's interests, so loudly proclaimed by Donald Trump, were nothing more than a sham.
Amid patrols, deaths, chases, and beatings in the streets of Minneapolis, one figure has stood out: Gregory Bovino, defiantly displaying his face while many other ICE agents concealed him behind balaclavas. Until Tuesday, when he was dismissed, Bovino was a high-ranking officer in the Border Patrol, central to the Trump administration's immigration strategy. However, what has drawn particular attention is his attire.
Far from wearing the usual tactical gear, Bovino opts for an aesthetic that several journalists have described as retro-military, with a clear visual resonance of the iconography of high-ranking Nazi officials. Clothing is never anecdotal: fascist regimes understood that aesthetics were not merely an ornament of power, but one of its most effective tools. The journalist from Der SpiegelArno Frank expressed it with heartbreaking irony: Bovino "stands out from this crowd of thugs just as a dapper SS officer stands out from a noisy crowd of SA. The haircut is also impeccable; for the cosplay "Perfect, it would only need a monocle."
Among the elements of his appearance, the coat stands out. greatcoat Long, instead of the functional, operational jackets typical of contemporary police commanders. Bovino's coat, which deliberately forgoes functionality in favor of a predominantly symbolic authority, is long to emphasize its imposing presence, belted to mark hierarchy, and structured to convey discipline. The dark color, epaulettes, and brass buttons contribute to an image of opacity and distance that inevitably evokes the uniforms of German officers in the 1930s and 40s.
This outfit is complemented by the Sam Browne belt, wide at the waist and reinforced by a diagonal strap across the right shoulder. Originally designed by the British general after whom it is named—who needed it after losing his left arm to draw his saber—this belt was also widely used by Nazi officers as a symbol of hierarchy and authority. The hairstyle completes the ensemble: a military-style haircut known as high and tightwith extremely shaved sides and nape that transition seamlessly into a slightly longer top. A hairstyle that fascist regimes exploited intensely as a visual tool to standardize bodies, exalt aggressive masculinity, and highlight discipline as the supreme value.
Gone are the days when, at the ballot box, the ballots of fascist parties seemed like a folkloric anecdote and a source of electoral ridicule. They are increasingly numerous and no longer hide or ask permission: they flaunt themselves, confident that the context is favorable, to shamelessly display their deliberate violations of fundamental rights. And while some consider the interpretation of this aesthetic as a Nazi reminiscence exaggerated, perhaps it is not so far-fetched when combined with a particular conception of power, order, and an iconography that no longer needs to speak its name to function.
