In every society, there are certain names that stir up a deep, almost primal reaction. These are the figures whose actions—or lack thereof—have left such an indelible mark that even a mere mention of their name sends shockwaves through public discourse. We all know the figures of history whose legacies loom over us, often with a shadow far darker than the sunniest of days. And now, with the return of He Who Must Not Be Named, we find ourselves revisiting an era we had hoped was behind us.

I’m not speaking of some mythical dark lord, nor a figure from our nightmares. No, I am talking about the return of a political figure whose presence was once felt like a storm—the kind that brought chaos and fear, but also deep divisions in a society teetering between progress and regression. It is a name that has become a symbol of what we hope to never repeat, but one that is slowly creeping back into the public eye.

It’s easy to dismiss the return of such figures as a mere footnote in the ever-turning pages of history. Yet, as we’ve seen time and again, the past has a peculiar way of resurfacing when we least expect it. There are those who would argue that the reemergence of a controversial leader represents a desire for stability, for change, or even nostalgia. But let us not forget the reasons why this name was placed under a kind of unofficial ban in the first place.

For all the political gains he made during his tenure, the damage left in his wake was considerable. From weakened democratic institutions to societal polarization, the aftermath of his reign left scars that have not yet healed. His return to the political stage is not simply a rerun of the past but a dangerous reminder that history is never truly over.

And yet, there are those who see in him a savior—a leader who promises to return the country to its former glory, who seeks to right the perceived wrongs of the past. These voices echo loudly, and their appeal to the masses cannot be ignored. But what are we really being asked to return to? A time when power was wielded with impunity? When the rights of the many were trampled underfoot for the ambitions of the few?

There are some who argue that we have learned from the past and should not fear such a return. But how many times must history repeat itself before we learn that the past cannot be resurrected without paying the price? The allure of He Who Must Not Be Named lies not in his leadership, but in his ability to promise an easy answer to complex questions. But such answers often come with a heavy toll—one that cannot be fully realized until it’s too late.

In the end, He Who Must Not Be Named returns not as a hero, but as a warning. A reminder that, even in our attempts to move forward, the specter of the past will always find a way to linger.