A fascist is one whose lust for money or power is combined with such an intensity of intolerance toward those of other races, parties, classes, religions, cultures, regions or nations as to make him ruthless in his use of deceit or violence to attain his ends. The supreme god of a fascist, to which his ends are directed, may be money or power; may be a race or a class; may be a military, clique or an economic group; or may be a culture, religion, or a political party.
--Henry A. Wallace, Democracy Reborn (1944)
You people are beginning to worry me.
I've always figured that, at any given point in time, approximately 10 percent of the population is susceptible to nutball theories of any sort. People will believe anything if it fits their notional theory of how the world operates. That's why you have those who claim that Franklin Roosevelt allowed the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor to occur, who believe Elvis Presley is alive, and that Lyndon Johnson ordered the assassination of John Kennedy. That's why we still have those who claim that the current president isn't a Christian or an American citizen.
Most of the time it's probably best to ignore these folks, for engaging them is a fool's errand. I've found that if you try to explain to them why they're wrong, you only discover the impossibility of agreeing on a set of facts. There's no consensus anymore; instead there are people who make their living producing custom "facts" designed to buttress any argument. We have the right to believe what we want, I suppose, and some people are determined to exercise that right even, or perhaps especially, when it flies in the face of science and reason.
But there's always been more grownups in the room--people who understand that politics is all about compromise and making incremental changes. We live in a big country with diverse people and competing interests. There are lots of voices out there, and while it might feel good to stand on a chair and bray, the real business of governance requires tact and discipline. You say what you must say for the cameras and the folks back home, but in the end you barter and cooperate with your colleagues.
Everybody knows this, and most of us understand that there's a certain hypocrisy that comes with the job. You might have to concede something now to put yourself in a better position to fight another day. You win some, you lose some, and if you're a healthy person you probably are able to have a beer with your opponents at the end of the day.
This time around, it feels different.
My inclination is not to take Donald Trump too seriously. I don't believe he wants to be president; he's just enjoying the attention. Few people--even many of those who are cheering for him and egging him on--believe he will win the Republican nomination, much less the presidency. A lot of us are just fascinated by the circus.
I would go so far to say this is the conventional wisdom. Most people assume that Trump will eventually step out of the way and let one of the "serious" candidates like John Kasich or Jeb Bush run their race. After all, we're a long way from pulling levers. It's OK to have a little fun.
Yet I'm a little bothered. I'm not sure I trust you people. I'm not sure that I'm right about this. Because Trump doesn't sound like he's joking any more. And because he's tapped into genuine sources of pain and outrage.
Back in 1964 the historian Richard Hofstadter identified what he called "the paranoid style" in American politics. He first articulated the idea in an essay in Harper's in November 1964. He started out his essay like this:
"American politics has often been an arena for angry minds. In recent years we have seen angry minds at work mainly among extreme right-wingers, who have now demonstrated . . . how much political leverage can be got out of the animosities and passions of a small minority. But behind this I believe there is a style of mind that is far from new and that is not necessarily right-wing. I call it the paranoid style simply because no other word adequately evokes the sense of heated exaggeration, suspiciousness, and conspiratorial fantasy that I have in mind."
Hofstadter could have written that this morning.
In some ways, we're in real trouble, guys. We're in one of those angst-y periods of transition that come around every so often. The cultural and political primacy of white men is being challenged, and by 2050 or so white folks will no longer constitute the physical majority in this country (though I wouldn't bet against them still dominating the institutional apparatus).
People are afraid of what's coming. Some of that is just bigotry--the only real hope for the world is miscegenation, and I'm optimistic that young people don't seem as rigidly tribal as their parents--but there are real reasons to be concerned. We're strangling the American middle class, we've conflated celebrity with achievement, and we're less and less willing to entertain ideas that don't presume that we're the best, brightest and most worthy folks who have ever lived.
I don't think Donald Trump is a fascist. I think he's playing the role of a fascist. I think he's trolling us, having a laugh. Americans wouldn't elect a fascist.
I hope I'm not overestimating you people.
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Philip Martin is a columnist and critic for the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at pmartin@arkansasonline.com and read his blog at blooddirtandangels.com.
Editorial on 09/22/2015