As a student of information warfare and American history, I can’t help but notice the unsettling parallels between today’s federal workforce crisis and the Bonus Army situation of 1932. In both cases, we see a fundamental conflict over promised government compensation during times of economic uncertainty.

Nearly 100 years ago American military veterans marched en masse on Washington demanding early payment of service certificates they were owed.

Just before Congress adjourned in the summer of 1932, thousands of desperate World War I veterans surrounded the U.S. Capitol. With the nation in the grips of the Great Depression, the House of Representatives had approved a bill to provide immediate cash payments to veterans. Servicemembers now waited anxiously as the Senate debated the same bill. At issue was the question, What did the nation owe its veterans?

Notably, servicemember camps setup around the Capitol were “racially integrated, vibrant communities“, a very alarming situation to those holding a line on extremely racist power. In other words the outspoken primary opponent to giving veterans money owed was from Senator Joseph T. Robinson of Arkansas – a violent segregationist during the Jim Crow era who also opposed anti-lynching legislation. He rose to Senate Majority Leader in 1933 where he blocked all civil rights legislation for the next four years.

The Hoover administration’s response to the integrated Americans demanding rights was to characterize military veterans – who had served their country faithfully and had followed the proper channels for basic income – as opportunists and troublemakers. Today, we hear similar rhetoric, with the White House describing federal workers as “lazy” and accusing them of “ripping off the American people” by doing their jobs.

The Bonus Army crisis escalated when the Hoover administration sent the racist and segregationist General Douglas MacArthur to forcibly remove the veterans from their integrated encampments. For context, MacArthur’s tenure as Army Chief of Staff from 1930 to 1935 heavily promoted institutional racism. Later, as Supreme Commander of Allied Powers in occupied Japan, he again promoted racial segregation policies. However it was his conduct during the Korean War that has drawn the most scrutiny from historians in terms of his deeply flawed strategic decision making – racism against Asians caused unnecessary losses due to consistent underestimation of Chinese military capabilities.

Thurgood Marshall recalled that General MacArthur, who believed that American Blacks were inferior to whites, was the greatest impediment to the Army’s desegregation in Korea. Things changed rapidly as soon as Truman fired him in 1951.

Today’s situation, while different in its details, shows similar signs of escalating tension, as well as racist underpinnings to attacks on diverse groups of federal workers. The administration’s recent memo threatening those who remain with “enhanced standards of suitability and conduct” and warning of prioritized “investigation and discipline” creates an atmosphere of intimidation reminiscent of the Jim Crow era.

Just as the Bonus Army veterans faced uncertainty about whether they would ever receive their promised compensation, today’s federal workers are being offered a deal that unions warn may never be paid because it lacks congressional authorization. The administration’s pressure tactics – including warnings about impending layoffs and demands for “loyalty” – echo the kind of strong-arm approaches that characterized the government’s response to the Bonus Army.

What’s particularly concerning is how this situation could potentially escalate. The Bonus Army crisis became a watershed moment in American history not because of the initial dispute, but because of how the government chose to handle it. The sight of American troops attacking American veterans created a public relations disaster that contributed to Hoover’s defeat.

Today, we’re seeing scattered protests outside federal buildings. One worker quoted in recent reporting expressed fear that “we’re all going to lose our jobs and they’re going to put all these loyalists or people that will be their shock troops.” This language of “shock troops” and loyalty tests yet again eerily mirrors the militaristic response to the Bonus Army.

The critical difference now is that we have the benefit of historical hindsight.

The Bonus Army crisis teaches us that handling of regular government workers – whether veterans or civil servants – as enemies of the state rather than as dedicated public servants tends to backfire both politically and practically. When the racist segregationist MacArthur led troops against the desegregated Bonus Army, he wasn’t just attacking a group of protesters – he was attacking the very idea that the government should honor its commitments to all those Americans who serve it.

In the current situation, federal courts have already stepped in to temporarily halt the administration’s plans. This judicial intervention offers hope that we might avoid the kind of confrontation that marked the Bonus Army crisis. However, the administration’s rhetoric and tactics suggest they may not be learning the correct lessons that history offers.

The ultimate resolution of the Bonus Army crisis – Congress finally authorizing early payment in 1936 – reminds us that these situations eventually require legislative solutions, not executive force. Today’s federal workers, like the veterans of 1932, are simply asking the government to treat them with the respect and consideration they’ve earned through their service.

As we watch this situation unfold, we would do well to remember that the Bonus Army crisis didn’t have to end in tear gas and burning encampments. It escalated because racist leadership chose confrontation over negotiation, forceful bluster over competency in dialogue. Let’s hope today’s leaders can learn from clear historical mistakes before we witness another awful MacArthur moment in American history.

Trump keeps praising a controversial American general whose actions nearly prompted World War III: “MacArthur was considered a ‘media whore’ of his time, Daniel Drezner, a professor of international affairs at Tufts University, told Reuters.” […] “I fired him because he wouldn’t respect the authority of the president,” Truman later explained. “I didn’t fire him because he was a dumb son of a bitch, although he was, but that’s not against the laws for generals.”

Truman later said that he had become anti-racist by 1946, which perhaps helps explains why he put such an abrupt end to huge “dumb” mistakes being made by an obviously racist MacArthur. And also explains why Trump keeps trying to repeat those same mistakes.