We’ve heard the word “unprecedented” so often since 2016 that it has become a cliche. But is it accurate? Or have we seen much of this before? And more important, are we experiencing a short-term authoritarian surge that fades when Trump is finally gone, or is this a deeper and longer turn toward fascism? It’s impossible to be sure, but we do have clues and historical evidence to consider.
Let’s start with the basics. In The Anatomy of Fascism, Robert O. Paxton looks at how modern anxieties – from immigration and economic insecurity to urban “decadence” and national decline — can create conditions for mass-based, populist nationalist movements. In recent years, we’ve seen a rise in nationalist propaganda, hate crimes and “strongman” regimes in countries ranging from Turkey, Hungary and the Philippines to the US.
And how do fascists gain and exercise power? Common steps include political deadlock in the face of domestic crisis, threatened conservatives desperate for tough allies and ready to abandon the rule of law, and a charismatic leader ready to mobilize passions through race-tinged demagoguery. We’ve witnessed all of these in the past decade. But Paxton also notes that most capitalists, even if they view democracy as a nuisance, would prefer an authoritarian to a fascist. The former usually prefers a passive, disengaged public.
But fascists, who have such contempt for people and reason that they don’t even bother to justify their excesses, tend to get people excited and engaged. That has begun to happen since Donald Trump recaptured the presidency.
When I think about Mussolini’s fascism in Italy, it’s hard not to be reminded of Trump. The power of the Duce (Italian for leader) was also based more on charisma than consistency, and drew from a sense of victimhood that fueled aggression, unilateral quick fixes, and a desperate yearning to recapture a glorious, yet mythical past. While World War II ended Mussolini’s tyranny, it didn’t eliminate the seductive appeal of fascism's totalitarian approach and mindset.
One of the earliest warnings was provided by Sinclair Lewis while Mussolini was still in power. In his 1936 novel, It Can’t Happen Here, a Vermont country editor watches aghast as a racist, flag-waving demagogue named Buzz Windrip wins the presidential election and establishes a repressive regime much like Nazi Germany. Soon the most liberal members of the Supreme Court resign, replaced by unqualified sycophants.
At the time few people heeded Lewis’ satirical warning, even though fascism was on full view in Germany and Italy, and was about to be embraced by high-ranking officers in Japan. Western appeasement and indecision continued as Mussolini took control of Albania, Ethiopia and Eritrea, and as Hitler repudiated the Versailles treaty, which had ended World War I, then made pacts with the other Axis powers.
Shortly after the release of Lewis’s prophetic novel, a stage version opened simultaneously in 21 theaters in 17 states. But despite its popularity the cautious pre-war climate in Hollywood derailed a film project, which was considered too anti-fascist, and the story remained too-hot-to-handle for decades. Eventually, it was the inspiration for a TV series, V, but the fascists were replaced by aliens. Later, it inspired the film V for Vendetta.
The tyranny imagined by Lewis didn’t take hold in the US during the World War II years. But the country came close before the war, and a more subtle form, what philosopher Bertram Gross named “friendly fascism,” soon began to develop.
Big business and big government built an international establishment, an elite club of billionaires, corporate top dogs, CEOs, and their favored employees and friends. Meanwhile, the public was misled by a series of lies, false assumptions and myths. They were told, for example, that communism and socialism were so dangerous — when they weren’t derided as bankrupt ideas, of course — that they justified any form of repression and a massive military to prevent the infection from spreading. There was also a massive, media-fueled campaign to convince people that capitalism was based on competitive free enterprise rather than monopoly power and escalating inequality, and that powerful corporations and billionaires didn’t really control markets and entire economies.
Another early warning came during the presidency of Richard Nixon, a would-be king who eventually faced resistance. Impoundment of federal funds led to work stoppages, government reorganization produced instability, and central leadership through information control was a clumsy attempt to repress dissent. The US began to look in as if it was replicating the political degradation of Rome.
In 44 BC, Julius Caesar had become dictator of the world's most powerful empire. Although the new monarch reorganized local administration, his "vulgar scheming for the tawdriest mockeries of personal worship," as H.G. Wells put it, became a silly and shameful record of his rule. The air buzzed with talk of democracy and the proletariat. Meanwhile, however, most eligible voters joined elite clubs. Politicians depended upon usurers and the clubs. The sham of democracy forced the cheated and suppressed to use other methods of expression: strikes and insurrection.
Caesar's rule lasted only four years — less even than Nixon’s — and ended in assassination by his “friends” and supporters when his aspirations to power and greatness became intolerable. In Wells’ words, he was "beset in the senate....the scene marks the complete demoralization of the old Roman governing body."
Government-business symbiosis was well underway during the Nixon and Carter years, but the radical right extended its reach dramatically during Reagan’s regime. A profound paradigm shift had begun, Kurt Andersen concludes in Evil Geniuses: The Unmaking of America, a change equivalent in scale and scope to the 1930s. It radically changed the foundation of the US legal system as well as the conduct of businesses and the financial industry, and led some liberals to distance themselves from principles that had once defined progress.
Among the key first steps was an unprecedented merger binge. This not only undermined economic recovery but accelerated a massive redistribution of wealth to the top. Average wages would stagnate for the next 40 years.
Another change was also underway, a movement to the right by the ultra-rich. Reagan’s tactics included draconian federal criminal laws, politically motivated grand juries, union-busting, purges, surveillance, and the gradual transformation of basic rights into privileges.
Although rarely acknowledged, it was clear by then that the weaponizing of fear didn’t only come in the form of overt violence, persecution or prosecution. The withholding of privileges or rewards was also effective. Deep fears were fed by inflation, deficits, unemployment, job insecurity and nuclear anxiety.
Along with the merging of government and big business came an open-ended commitment to military “superiority” and increased concentration of wealth at the top. Reagan was, after all, a career spokesman for corporate America. But Presidents Carter and Clinton were not saviors, just friendlier faces. The choices were always limited.
After two Bush presidencies — a warning sign that democracy was devolving into dynasty — the meteoric rise of Barack Obama at first suggested a break with the past. But by the end of 2008, as soon as he revealed his cabinet and key staff, you could feel the air leaking out of the change bubble. Many of them had a record of support for corporate-friendly trade pacts, cutting public assistance as a “reform” strategy, and deregulatory policies. It was more like a team of insiders than a team of rivals.
Obama did strike a different tone than Bush on foreign policy, offering the Muslim world "a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect." Yet he remained silent during an Israeli assault on Gaza — carried out, by the way, with US-built F-16 jets and Apache helicopters after a blockade that cut off food and medicine.
Red flags also included a call for more US troops in Afghanistan, a misleading impression about how soon and how many soldiers would be removed from Iraq, unspecified bailout amounts for unspecified purposes with unspecified oversight, a budget director who favored cutting Social Security, and an attorney general who supported continued immunity for illegal wiretapping and secret searches of library and bookstore files. Plus, support for the war on drugs, the Patriot Act, and the death penalty.
CIA chief Leon Panetta made it clear that extraordinary rendition wouldn't end, the attorney general used "state secrets" as the rationale to block a trial, and Obama personally refused to release photos of enhanced interrogation. He also decided that past official crimes wouldn’t be prosecuted.
The Bush regime had armed Obama with extended authority to take executive action, both domestically and in countries with which the US had disagreements. Using that power, his overseas strategy looked a lot like rollback, reversing gains made by “troublesome” governments and movements. This involved a combination of open military intervention, slippery diplomatic rhetoric, and deniable covert operations.
I take no pleasure in writing this, and my intention isn’t to trash Democrats or Obama, only to illustrate that the drift toward “friendly fascism” began before Trump emerged. Echoing Hamlet, Timothy Snyder has concluded in On Tyranny, “Our time is certainly out of joint," because "we have forgotten history." And now we face a rough passage from confused democracy to a "cynical sort of fascist oligarchy."
There are decades where nothing happens, and there are weeks where decades happen. Lenin said that while he was in exile before the Russian Revolution. For the US, the lead up to the siege of the US capitol in January, 2021 is one example, a period that fundamentally changed the country’s direction. The last few months may turn out to be another.
An older example suggests the potential scope of such a moment. On December 10, 1898, a peace treaty between the US and Spain ended the Spanish-American War. Spain gave Cuba, their prize possession, its independence. But in reality, this placed it under US control for the next 60 years. The emerging US empire also acquired most of Spain’s remaining imperial possessions. That included Puerto Rico, parts of the West Indies, Guam and the Philippines.
In less than two months the US had defeated one of the so-called “great powers” and acquired significant colonial possessions. It became one of few nations with the ability to project power far beyond its borders. Eventually, it would be labeled a “superpower,” a euphemism that masked its imperial status.
Now that empire has entered an era of transformation and decline that looks unlikely to be reversed. Its basic ideals have been shattered, its capitol has been vandalized by its own people, and its “rule of law” is failing. Is the emerging new system authoritarianism or fascism? Either way, it can happen here, and a return to the past does not look very likely. Millions have lost faith and too much has changed.
Perhaps the worst can be avoided and something new, perhaps better will emerge. Resistance is clearly growing. But right now oligarchs and their crude enablers sneer inside the nation’s locked gates.
