The swastika is a symbol with a complex history, and its meaning depends heavily on context. It’s an ancient geometric shape, basically a cross with arms bent at right angles, often associated with rotation or cyclical movement. For thousands of years, it was used across cultures globally—think India, China, Japan, and even parts of Europe and the Americas—as a positive symbol. In Hinduism, it’s tied to good fortune, prosperity, and the deity Ganesha; the word "swastika" itself comes from Sanskrit, meaning something like "conducive to well-being." You’ll see it in Jainism and Buddhism too, often marking sacred spaces or texts, symbolizing harmony or the eternal cycle of life. Ancient artifacts from the Indus Valley Civilization, dating back over 4,000 years, show it, and it pops up in Greco-Roman art, Celtic knots, and even Native American designs, usually carrying benign or spiritual vibes.

Fast forward to the 20th century, and the meaning gets flipped on its head in the West. The Nazi Party adopted a version of it—tilted at 45 degrees, black on a white circle with a red background—as their emblem in the 1920s. For them, it was meant to evoke some mythical "Aryan" heritage, though their interpretation was rooted in pseudoscience and nationalist propaganda, not historical accuracy. That association stuck hard. From 1933 to 1945, it became the defining symbol of the Third Reich, tied to genocide, war, and ideologies of hate. Post-World War II, especially in Europe and the Americas, it’s almost universally seen as a marker of antisemitism, racism, and extremism. Displaying it in places like Germany can get you fined or jailed unless it’s in specific contexts like religious use or historical education.

So today, it’s a split reality: in parts of Asia, it’s still a sacred symbol, often seen in temples or on statues, with no connection to Nazism in the public mind. But in the West, it’s radioactive—immediately linked to hate unless explicitly framed otherwise, like in a museum or a Hindu ceremony where people understand the context. The difference in perception can lead to misunderstandings; someone wearing a swastika pendant in, say, Bali might be honoring tradition, but the same act in Berlin would likely be seen as endorsing Nazism.

What it represents, then, hinges on where and how it’s used. History matters, and so does intent, but public perception often overrides both. If you’re digging into a specific angle—like its use in a particular culture or era—let me know, and I can go deeper.