Synopsis: Biden won. This changes nothing.
It
appears Joe Biden has won the presidency.
I
wish I could be more satisfied with the outcome. The past four years have been demoralizing
for anyone who aspires to living in a just and equitable society. But that doesn’t mean a new administration is
going to undo the social damage wrought by its predecessor. The past few days have not been reassuring.
People
on both sides suffer from cognitive dissonance.
Predictably, the “base” is crying that the election was “stolen,” that
ballots voted for the President were destroyed or misplaced through the
malfeasance of “crooked” poll workers, and so forth. Their opponents can’t believe that the
President wasn’t defeated by a wider margin.
A news article quotes a Planned Parenthood official as registering shock
that Biden didn’t win by a landslide, an outcome she found “hurtful.”
These
examples show that we live within our own self-constructed ideological bubbles,
abetted by the multiplicity of media outlets we curate so that we’re always told
what we want to hear. This tendency
predates cable news, the internet, and social media, though. An apocryphal story made the rounds after
Richard Nixon’s 49-state sweep in 1972 in which film critic Pauline Kael said she
couldn’t believe Nixon won because no one she knew voted for him.
Presidential
elections are as much about political theater as they are about choosing a
chief executive. They are occasions in
which our beliefs and prejudices acquire a performative aspect reflected in the
presumed attributes of our favored candidate.
But the 2016 election didn’t have an “off” switch. This year’s probably won’t, either. The pervasive anger amongst us that had
bubbled just beneath the surface of our national life festered over and won’t
be easily contained simply because we’ve replaced the individual at the center
of the phenomenon.
Journalists
and social scientists struggle to comprehend what animates the President’s most
fervent supporters. I don’t have that
problem. My life has been torn between
two conflicting identities, one of which I chose and one that I was born
into. I grew up in a rural, white, working class
milieu. My formative years were steeped
in the beliefs and attitudes championed by the base. The minority of the white working class interested
in politics shifted to the Republican Party in 1970s and 80s, even though its policy
preferences were manifestly against their interests. Donald Trump’s populism electrified those who
had been seething in silence for decades as social and economic change left
them in the dust. It tapped into their
collective id and forced it to the top.
Trump’s defeat will not tamp it down.
People
on the left are inclined to use the epithet “fascist” indiscriminately. Godwin’s Law often haunts the rhetoric. However, the heightened saliency of populist
sentiment since Barack Obama’s election does have fascistic overtones. Fascism has many definitions, but I will use
the characteristics described by Umberto Eco as my analytical model for Trumpian
populism. Eco fused the various strands
of fascism into a unified concept he labeled Ur-Fascism.
The
first trait Eco identifies is the cult of tradition which holds that tradition
(the “way it’s always been done”) is all that’s needed and nothing new needs to
be tried. It’s manifested in an
uncritical adherence to fundamentalist Christianity and an evocation of a quasi-mythical
past when America was “great.” The
latter conjures up images of a postwar era in which white males dominated the social,
political, and economic discourse, and women and minorities knew their
place. A desire for tradition by
implication rejects a multicultural society.
The
second is a rejection of modernism in the form of Enlightenment era rationalism. It is the misapprehension that science and
religion, which attempt to answer different questions, are diametrical
opposites. An open rejection of science around
critical issues ranging from climate change to the COVID-19 pandemic can be
seen as a symptom, along with denial or a belief in magical thinking pertaining
to how they might be addressed.
The
third is the cult of action for action’s sake. Action without recourse to critical thinking
is valorized, and is a facet of anti-intellectualism and the rejection of
science.
The
fourth is the belief that disagreement is treason. Everyone must believe and act in lockstep, and
dissent is not allowed. Both Trump and
his supporters have used the word treason to describe opposition to the
President and his administration.
The
fifth is fear of difference.
Where to start?
The
sixth is an appeal to middle class frustration. This is characteristic among the suburban
rather than the redneck contingent within the base, though it’s just as
applicable to blue collar anxieties. Automation,
globalization, and industrialization in the developing world has rendered
traditionally well-paid, low-skilled work obsolete. Right to work laws, anti-union policies, and
the gutting of defined benefit pensions championed by the same Republican
politicians they enthusiastically support have further eroded their economic
security. This realization has yet to
penetrate, so their frustration will continue to be aimed at the usual suspects
(minorities, “illegals,” and the like).
The
seventh is obsession with a plot, or an entrenched belief that there is
a vast conspiracy against them. This is
pretty much QAnon’s whole schtick, though it’s generalizable to the alt-right
as a whole. You have to marvel at
the sort of imagination that could concoct and believe the premise that there
is a cabal of Satan-worshipping pedophiles in the Democratic Party leadership who
engage in the sex-trafficking of children, and that only Donald J. Trump can put
an end to the horror. There a long,
sorry tradition of conspiracy theories in American culture, but the ones being spread
by the alt-right are in a singular category.
Number
eight is a self-contradictory view of the enemy. Our opponents are strong so we must fight
them, but we will prevail because they are so weak. (Repeat this a few times, and it will make
sense.) The base is told that liberals and
progressives are weak, and yet they are insidiously powerful. (Refer to the previous paragraph.)
Contempt
for the weak is
the tenth characteristic. Closely
related are the eleventh and twelfth, which are heroism and machismo. There is a streak of male supremacy within
the base that they conflate with Americanism.
Their ideal is a white, hetero cis-male who is ready and willing to mete
violence against those they perceive as inferior. Gun
culture is intimately interwoven with each of these notions. The presence of armed, camo clad men at urban
protests and rural disaster zones presuming to assert authority they do not
legally possess reflects a contempt for the values of civil society and for
those who don’t have the balls to flout them. It goes without saying that women and the
non-gender conforming cannot embody these values and must be marginalized.
The
thirteenth characteristic is selective populism. Populism should arise spontaneously, from the
bottom up. Paradoxically, a strong
leader is needed to articulate and implement the collective will. Democratic institutions which obstruct the leader’s
will also oppose the true sentiments of the people and are therefore
illegitimate. From the promise to “drain the swamp” to the
demonization of congressional leaders opposing him, Trump and his base have
evinced this occurrence in a manner without precedent.
The
final trait is a proto-Orwellian newspeak.
Reduce ideas to catchphrases.
Reduce nuanced issues to dichotomies.
Shape the discourse through narrowing the political vocabulary.
My
analysis so far begs the question of why a formal party organization has not
emerged on its own to advance the alt-right movement to power, rather than
using the Republican Party as its vehicle.
The answer is twofold. A key reason
which worked against the radical change sought by the base are the checks and
balances provided in the Constitution. Personality
was a contributing factor; Donald Trump was indifferent to the intricacies of
administration and was perhaps a bit lazy to boot.
The
other reason that the Republican Party itself hasn’t adopted an overtly fascistic
platform or that a fascistic third party hasn’t arisen is rooted in the nature
of political parties in the U.S. Our two
major parties are coalitions of interests whose constituent components may not have a 100%
commonality of interests but rather follow mutually acceptable policy
preferences born of compromise. Strongly
ideological parties such as those in European parliamentary systems have never succeeded
here.
Those
facts are cold comfort and do not undo the polarization of the past four years. A Biden-Harris administration is not likely
to bring the country together, and the fact that the Vice President elect is a
woman of color will provoke the alt-right to further rhetorical excess against
women and minorities. A new administration
won’t solve systemic racial inequality or the police brutality problem, so the
protests will go on with the greater potential for confrontations with armed “patriot”
vigilantes.
And
there is still the possibility of Trump refusing to accept the election results
and barricading himself in the White House after he’s lost all of his legal
challenges while his supporters take to the streets. A coup is a remote prospect, but Trump can
still cause quite a ruckus on the way out.
It doesn’t matter anyway. Even if
he goes quietly, the damage is done. His
presidency may have been a failure, but Donald J. Trump has put his permanent
stamp on American political culture.
Whatever comes is next will not be sweetness and light.
©
2020 The Unassuming Scholar