The U.S. military has begun appearing on U.S. streets in response to protests against police brutality and murder. The president has threatened more aggressive action, and fears abound about whether Trump can use the Insurrection Act to override the Posse Comitatus Act (an 1878 law that limits the president’s ability to deploy the military on U.S. soil). Meanwhile, in his latest tantrum, Trump has issued an executive order to attack the lawsuit protections granted to social media companies under his false belief that a notification of a fact check on a publicly available tweet constituted censorship. Lawsuits challenging the order have already been filed, and we wait now to see what will be the next step in the increasingly unhinged rants and flails of a president who too often seems to live in an alternate reality.
In all of this, I’ve pondered a question I asked my students in a college writing class in 2017: is Donald J. Trump a fascist? Throughout the semester, they read non-fiction and literature ranging from Umberto Eco’s “Ur-fascism” to Sinclair Lewis’ It Can’t Happen Here to better understand what fascism is and the influence it had on U.S. culture. Back in 2017, the answer was a definitive “no, but.” No, he’s not a fascist, but he is an authoritarian. No, he’s not a fascist, but his behavior is unsettling. No, he’s not a fascist, but we should still be concerned. The question is one that the nation has struggled with since Trump’s election. There’s a good reason for that: fascism is, for most U.S.-Americans, an ill-defined concept. Much like the phrase “science fiction,” most of us are only equipped to identify it when we see it, and even then, not very effectively. I sought to combat that in my fascism course, and I’ll turn to some of that knowledge here to once more consider that infamous question.
In Robert Paxton’s The Anatomy of Fascism, he makes a compelling argument for a definition of fascism and an explanation for its rise. For Paxton, fascism cannot be defined by a cogent ideology, in part because fascists may have none or may use a variety of other ideological positions to scaffold their grab for power. As such, fascism differs remarkably from other ideological forms, especially those arising to power in the same period (communism, for example) and the most visible fascist societies in the 20th century (Nazi Germany and Mussolini’s Italy). This is not to suggest that fascists cannot have an ideology; rather, what defines them as fascists isn’t the ideology to which they adhere. For that reason, fascists may borrow from other ideological structures, often to absurd effect, as a ladder for the manipulation of a society and the seizure of power. For Paxton, in other words, fascism is a political phenomenon defined by its behaviors and development or paradigmatic stages, which include:
- Intellectual exploration, where disillusionment with popular democracy manifests itself in discussions of lost national vigor
- Rooting, where a fascist movement, aided by political deadlock and polarization, becomes a player on the national stage
- Arrival to power, where conservatives seeking to control rising leftist opposition invite fascists to share power
- Exercise of power, where the movement and its charismatic leader control the state in balance with state institutions such as the police and traditional elites such as the clergy and business magnates.
- Radicalization or entropy, where the state either becomes increasingly radical, as did Nazi Germany, or slips into traditional authoritarian rule, as did Fascist Italy.
Anyone familiar with Paxton’s work who looks at the United States of 2020 would be hard pressed to argue that we are not already many steps into the fascist development. The “Make America Great Again” slogan of the Trump administration demonstrates clearly the first paradigm even as protests across the nation and the rapid decline of U.S. favor around the world continues around us. The very election of Trump — a product, arguably, of at least 8 years of blatant and public political deadlock and polarization — points clearly to the second paradigm. I’d also argue that the endless desire of traditional Democrats to find bipartisan support in those same 8 years and beyond — an effort frequently in vain — shows us the third. The notion that the Democratic party is a truly left party, which we hear all the time in the political sphere, is laughable given that by any other western measure, the Democrats are conservatives. That more left leaning Democrats and politicians are challenging the traditional neo-liberalist hold on the Democrat party makes it even more clear that we are either in or through the third paradigm.
This leads us to the fourth and fifth, two of the most important paradigms in Paxton’s framework, but also two of the most difficult to see at societal scale in the U.S. If not for recent events, I might have argued that we were verging on but not yet in the fourth paradigm. Yet, the increasing use of police force (and manipulation) against the current protests across the country and the Trump administration’s efforts to use military force make it clear that we’re at least within that paradigm. While I don’t think the fourth stage is fully realized, the fact that the military have been present on U.S. streets in some cities is enough to convince me that we are within it. And since the fourth paradigm is still in process, we can’t yet be within the fifth even if it’s clear from a close analysis of Trump’s governing style and behavior that this is the direction we’re going.
All this is to say that while the U.S. is not yet a proper fascist state, we are well on our way there. Experts and survivors of fascism and related oppressive governments have been warning us since the election of Trump, yet the rise of (white) nationalist populism has proceeded apace, slowed largely because there are still systems of power in place to prevent it. But we should know that if those systems did not exist, many of the most brutal and horrific things this president imagines would have come to pass. But why should we be concerned, then? If fascism is in the United States and it’s currently stalled by checks and balances, should we really be worried?
The answer is “yes.” And the reason is Donald J. Trump. That the Trump administration and its supporters (Republicans in general) plan to uproot the system by packing the courts with conservative judges should serve as a serious warning about the health of our democracy. More importantly, Trump’s rhetoric and behavior, if left unchecked, make it hard to argue that we are not dealing with a fascist in practice. In the same book, Paxton suggests that fascists are governed by a range of behaviors or passions that help propel the movement forward. Broken down, they paint a stark picture of the current state of politics in the U.S.:
- A sense of overwhelming crisis beyond the reach of any traditional solutions.
The defining feature of the Trump campaign: that he and he alone can solve the United States’ problems because he is an outsider, an unconventional politician, a purger, a solution from God. If we look at the rhetoric of Trump’s campaign and administration, we’ll find endless stories of grand conspiracies from a corrupt “swamp” of politicians to global manipulation and abuse by foreign nations (China in particular). And these, we’re told, can’t be solved by politics as usual; after all, the political system is implicated in this corruption, and only Trump can solve it by “draining the swamp.” - The primacy of the group, toward which one has duties superior to every right, whether individual or universal, and the subordination of the individual to it.
One need only look at Trump’s remarkable ability to mobilize his followers on social media to see this passion in action. The frequent return to identity-by-hashtag, the repetition of common talking points, the adoration of Trump and Trumpism at the expense of reason or actual political conversation, etc. While this is not unique to Trump — indeed, even left-leaning or center groups can engage in these behaviors — it’s hard to miss the singular importance of his base to the movement he helped shove into the spotlight. They are passionate, obsessive, and seemingly unmoved by anything from outside of the Trump bubble. They have, in a sense, relinquished their identity to the cause — subordinated themselves, as it were, to the leader and his loose, incoherent ideology. And they believe unflinchingly in their superiority because of their dedication. Unlike their enemies, they are unquestionably right just as Trump is unquestionably right. That passion is so firm that even seemingly simple challenges of the most basic facts often cannot penetrate the fold. - The belief that one’s group is a victim, a sentiment that justifies any action, without legal or moral limits, against its enemies, both internal and external.
If anyone could be accused of playing victim, it would be Trump. Since his election (and before), Trump has almost daily accused the press of lying about him and has encouraged his followers to believe themselves to be unfairly set upon by leftists, fake Republicans, liars in the press, foreign governments and business, the general media, and even the general public. Essentially, everyone who isn’t “for Trump” will inevitably be smeared as part of the machine out to get him. Trump and his followers have regularly threatened to do something about it. These words became action when Trump openly declared war via executive order against social media companies and happily allowed the theft of immigrant children in one of the largest human trafficking incidences in U.S. history. - Dread of the group’s decline under the corrosive effects of individualistic liberalism, class conflict, and alien influences.
What is the “America first” obsession if not an explicit belief that one’s group — one’s America — has suffered from influences and behaviors most foul? Trump’s obsession with victimhood and his follower’s obsession with the perceived (and, frankly, misunderstood) decline of the United States are foundational to the “America first” mantra. America, after all, has suffered. Its politicians have failed its people, selling out American jobs and American families to foreign governments, allowing multiculturalism to gut the middle class, letting illegals take American jobs, etc. All leading to the loss of U.S. influence around the world, to the broken systems that leave too many Americans behind. This singular terror continues to occupy the Trump administration, especially today as protests continue to flood U.S. streets across the country. Despite evidence to the contrary, Trump continues to believe that antifa (anti-fascist) groups are looting businesses and burning public property. Evidence, after all, doesn’t matter. Leftists are the real problem. - The need for closer integration of a purer community, by consent if possible, or by exclusionary violence if necessary.
The “America first” president has argued since day one for a more pure America. Whether you consider Trump a white supremacist or not, the open hostility against foreigners, especially from Mexico, Central America, and Asia, his endless calls for an isolationist approach to governance, and his verbal and governmental attacks on various foreign governments over trade and other issues all strongly support this “purity” passion. - The need for authority by natural chiefs (always male), culminating in a national chieftain who alone is capable of incarnating the group’s historical destiny.
Trump is a prophet. Trump will lead us to glory. Trump will fix the nation’s problems. Trump’s machismo will never be broken. Trump is us. Trump is supreme. Masculinity is frequently on display in fascist and authoritarian systems; after all, we associate dominance and violence with the masculine in most western cultures. Trump has often asserted his masculinity in public, both in vulgar ways (grabbing them by…) and by declaring, as most authoritarians do, that force should be the answer (they must be made to do it). His rhetoric and actions have placed him firmly in the center of a movement that only he can lead. His influence, as such, has probably irreparably changed the Republican party. His own party members are afraid to challenge him, and if they do, they’ll be publicly emasculated on Trump’s Twitter account and by his followers. - The superiority of the leader’s instincts over abstract and universal reason.
For this, we need only look at the endless stories of Trump’s supporters flocking to his defense without thought and arguing for his brilliance and the Evangelical community’s belief that he was sent by God. Trump, of course, plays into these fantasies, both in his self-aggrandizing tweets and in his frequent PR stunts to link himself with a God movement. - The beauty of violence and the efficacy of will, when they are devoted to the group’s success.
We saw this one during the campaign. Trump openly joked about violence at his rallies, sometimes proclaiming his love for it and sometimes effectively arguing that he would use it. His recent call to use the military to stifle protests contributes to this message; it also ties into Trump’s almost fanatical obsession with his own success and the equally fanatical obsession among his followers of his ability to do what they believe is right. For his followers, his actual success is less important than their belief in what he can and will do to protect them from the forces aimed to destroy their version of the United States. - The right of the chosen people to dominate others without restraint from any kind of human or divine law, right being decided by the sole criterion of the group’s prowess within a Darwinian struggle.
We will win. We will defeat our enemies. We will destroy the left. We will root you out and remove you. Trump and his followers have frequently declared that domination is not only necessary to keep them in power, it is also the American Way™ when faced with, as we saw in #3, an unrelenting (straw man) foe. Trump has also frequently said he will use the U.S. military to smite our enemies abroad, real or imagined, and he regularly denies the authority of law in his speeches and tweets despite being the so-called “law and order” president. His followers have likewise been encouraged to dominate through violence and rhetoric, both by Trump and by his more eloquent followers. What are his references to the 2nd Amendment and his seemingly vague but rather pointed statements that violence and aggression are the answer but an asserted right to domination? If we look closely at the entirety of the Trump apparatus, it seems clear to me that the right and will to dominate is fundamental to their political identity, even if much of that “right” is founded on rhetoric that hasn’t transferred into organized action.
I don’t think Trump realizes that he is a fascist, but I think that largely because Trump doesn’t read and appears to have a shaky-at-best grasp of reality. But what he realizes and what is true are often very different things, especially for this president. For that reason, I think he represents a greater fascistic threat in U.S. society than more eloquent and thoughtful variations, in part because Trump has an inability to filter himself or think through most anything he says or does. For some who have clambered for this sort of political momentum, it’s a glorious moment. For those who value democracy and reasoned discourse, it’s a nightmare.
There is, however, a small bit of hope in all this: Trump is also a coward. Like all blathering authoritarians, Trump can and sometimes is called on his bluffs. When faced with what most would consider his defining moment of his presidency — responding to civil unrest in U.S. streets — he allowed himself, unlike his main opponent, Joe Biden, to be whisked away to a bunker for safety. Instead of taking his security detail and walking out to speak with protesters, he had them (and the press covering them) gassed so he could stage a photo op at a church (which denounced the move). One thing we know about cowardly authoritarians: they never last.
But the fact remains: Donald Trump is a fascist. And it’s time we stopped pretending otherwise.
