The F-Word: Movement and Process
It's time to talk about fascism. The first in a series of posts on the topic.
I genuinely never believed I would have to write about fascism in America. While there has always been an underlying strain of reactionary authoritarianism (see, for instance, the John Birch Society), something that became even more apparent during the Reagan-era. The combination of the “War on Drugs” and the Imperial Presidency accelerated the concentration of power in the Executive Branch, but it has morphed into something more. It seems that Lord Acton was correct when he asserted that power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Prior to the Trump years, there was at least a veneer of constitutionalism that served as guardrails on Executive overreach. Courts—and in previous decades, the Congress—effectively stymied US Presidents, aided by the notion that Presidents should indeed listen to its nominally co-equal branches. Nothing was ever perfect; there were no halcyon years of American representative democracy. Nevertheless, progress was being made, America was becoming more diverse, and the United States remained the world’s bellwether for democracy.
Now, I fear, that bell has gone silent—or, optimistically, it has become stuck.
The origins of the modern instantiation of reactionary authoritarianism stem from the Tea Party days at the dawn of the Obama Administration. I can remember vividly the fiscal conservatism that was so often described by the media, but the gritty undercurrent that was often swept under the rug was a strong force of racism and nationalism. In fact, many Tea Party supporters (often coming from the middle class) generally supported the programs so often targeted by the “fiscal conservatives” of the Republican Party, including Medicare and Social Security.
One of the central tenets of the supporters (rather than the elite) of the Tea Party was that only “true” Americans should reap the rewards of America’s strength and prosperity. Of course, the “true” Americans generally only included a very specific subset of Americans, and you can imagine who that group includes.1
Opposition to Obama, the first Black president, was an obvious entry point for so many Tea Party supporters. And, when another mainstream Democrat was nominated in the form of a Clinton, the anti-establishment sentiments got through again and Donald Trump was elected 45th President of the United States.
The Trump of 2025 will be different from the Trump of 2017—he has had time to stew and to plan and to rage, and he comes into the office with the knowledge of how to best govern according to his desires, including placing people into positions of power who will say “yes” at every turn.
The Republican Party that Trump has shaped in no way resembles the Republican Party of the Eisenhower era, or in many ways even the Reagan and Bush eras. Sure, there are plenty of rhetorical similarities, but ideologically the modern Republican Party is one that has largely eschewed its classically liberal views on government, rights, and the economy to make way for a powerful new faction: Trumpists.
This faction finds itself in a Republican Party previously dominated by three other competing factions: business conservatives/libertarians, nationalist hawks, and hard-right Christians (including Evangelicals of varying sorts). They were often united by a belief that the United States was a beacon of democracy, capitalism, and opportunity for individuals. The emergence of the Trumpists has put these factions into sharp contrast.
Among the many beliefs the Trumpists hold dear is an abiding belief that America must be returned to some golden era (“Make America Great Again”) and that Trump is the man up to the task (“I alone can fix it”). Moreover, there is a clear current of racism and xenophobia in the many explicitly stated policies of the incoming Trump administration—look no further than the idea of mass deportation.
Trump will also find himself in a position to do something that is genuinely unprecedented in American politics: a desire and plan for the persecution of political opponents. It is quite likely, perhaps even inevitable, that the installed stooges at the Department of Justice will follow the whims of the president, rather than remain independent as has been tradition. This willingness to throw aside precedent and tradition in the executive is an element of Trumpism that sets it apart from every preceding Republican.
Treading this ground—reviewing Trump’s policy and persecution wishlist—has been done elsewhere. Let’s move onto the real heart of the issue. Is Trump a fascist?
Before we can begin to answer the question, we need to make sure we have an established definition of fascism, rather than rhetorically deploy it as a pejorative with no sense of its substance.
In academic settings, fascism has long been studied in a variety of ways: as a movement, as an ideology, as a political style, and even as an historical anomaly. For this first foray into fascism, I want to look at fascism as a political movement that is rooted in its own historical context, rather than just an abstract ideology. (Don’t worry, the abstraction in political theory will be my next foray.)
There is no better work on the historical approach than Robert Paxton’s The Anatomy of Fascism (originally published in 2004 by Alfred A. Knopf; I will cite from the Vintage edition published in 2005). The book approaches fascism as a process that is broken into five distinct parts: the creation of a movement, its subsequent rootedness in political systems, its seizure of power, its execution of power, and finally the long duration of fascism in which it either radicalizes or becomes subject to entropy (23). Each of these merits review, as each is necessary to understand fascism as movement, and to understand whether Trump is or is not a fascist.
One additional note before getting into fascism as process. My intention here by starting with history is to give us a sense of what fascism has been in the real world. I think that by starting in a more grounded setting, we can then better assess the more abstract ideological underpinnings on which various forms of fascism rely.
Creating a Fascist Movement. The inception of fascism arises from the creation of a movement of persons, like any other political force. These movements can arise only when the prevailing culture provides political space. This space arises when the prevailing sentiment in culture, society, politics, and the economy is focused toward a sense of crisis, that there are enemies or forces that must be abated in order to stymie the woes confronting the people. One such example might be anomie that arises from the individuated circumstances under capitalism in which people perform routine and meaningless tasks (p. 35; cf. Durkheim).
While there is not a core philosophy that unites all fascisms on Paxton’s account, there are a number of shared, mobilizing passions (p. 41):
a sense of overwhelming crisis beyond the reaches of any traditional solutions;
the primacy of the group, toward which one has duties superior to every right, whether individual or universal, and the subordination of every individual to it;
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;
dread of the group’s decline under the corrosive effects of individualist liberalism, class conflict, and alien influences;
the need for closer integration of a purer community, by consent if possible, or by exclusionary violence if necessary;
the need for authority by natural leaders (always male), culminating in a national chief who alone is capable of incarnating the groups’s destiny;
the superiority of the leader’s instincts over abstract and universal reason;
the beauty of violence and the efficacy of will, when they are devoted to the group’s success;
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.
None of these are new ideas, but they combine to create the space for fascist emergence. Key to understanding this part of the fascist process is that the intellectual underpinnings of fascism are not the causal component; rather, the intellectual substructure of society is that which creates the space for the fascist movement. There are plenty of examples, in other words, in which the space for fascism arises, but fascism does not itself emerge.
Fascism Takes Roots. Given that nearly every state in Western Europe had some kind of fascist party at various times, why did only some of them take root? After the space for fascism exists, individuals and groups had to move from rhetoric to action, a stage at which many fascists falter. A key institutional component for fascism to take root is a weak and/or failing liberal order (p. 81). Two other essential components are the “gatherer” and the creation of parallel structures.
This gatherer figure is an individual capable of bringing together disparate groups with grievances such that they can coalesce around the idea of obtaining power. This gatherer, after creating the broad tent of the discontented, is elevated to a chief figure who can then be more of an executive rather than just a leader; this permits the chief to trim the party message in a more honed way such that the party can move beyond mere grievances and into policy.
The creation of parallel structures is a more long-term and pernicious component of fascism taking roots. These parallel structures exist separately from (and later compete with) official state apparatuses. Parallel structures aid in the seizure of power over time by creating alternative decision makers. One example of this is the Nazi foreign policy agency that later would compete with the state’s foreign ministry (p. 85).
One final condition for fascism to firmly take roots: political leaders willing to share power. Historically, conservative groups have been willing to share power (e.g., van Papen and Hitler) with fascists. This stems from a shared hatred of Leftists and the idea that it is preferable to wrestle with the fascists within the party later rather than compete with the Left. Here we see most clearly that nothing is inevitable, and the element of human choice perpetually exists.
Fascists Gaining Power. While fascists love their propagandized version of the glorious seizure of power, it generally does not happen (p. 87). Mussolini made deals, and Hitler was handed power legally (though never popularly elected!). The fascist rise to power occurs within the context of crisis—a mobilizing passion—which is generally abetted by the fascists themselves. It is not insurrectionary coup that brings fascists to power.
As described above, conservatives generally helped fascists get the keys to power. Within a “constitutional deadlock and rising revolutionary menace, a successful fascist movement offers precious resources to a faltering elite” (p. 102). Conservatives believe(d) they held the reins of power and did not feel their social and economic orders threatened.
In the context of crisis, fascists are typically keen to accelerate disorder, as they can offer a novel solution to what is generally viewed to be a novel problem.
Importantly, as Paxton notes on page 116:
We are not required to believe that fascist movements can only come to power in an exact replay of the scenario of Mussolini and Hitler. All that is required to fit our model is polarization, deadlock, mass mobilization against internal and external enemies, and complicity by existing elites.
Finally, fascism coming to power is best viewed as a process, not as a moment (p. 118): “[A]lliances are formed, choices made, alternatives closed off.”
Fascists in Power. While it may be common to think so, fascist leaders do not rule in a vacuum devoid of influence by others. Cooperation is essential from a number of areas: the police, the military, the judiciary, upper-level bureaucrats, and social and economic elites. As a result, there has not been an ideologically pure fascist regime with predictable policy desires; fascist regimes typically involve some kind of composite regime between the fascist party and other leaders. This leads to conflict.
Another kind of conflict emerges from the tension between the “normative” and “prerogative” states. The normative state is the state as we know it, with its many legal apparatuses, processes, and officials. The prerogative state, however, emerges from the parallel structures the fascist movement creates on the road to power (p. 121). Oftentimes, the leader, the party, the state, and civil society all find themselves in open conflict with one another (pp. 123-124). This has historically led to the use of extrajudicial means of stamping out dissent.
As fascists rule, the action they called for in the movement stage must take a new tenor. Just as populists in power can no longer be the outsiders, the fascists in power can no longer be permanently revolutionary. As a result, the former revolution of action transitions into a revolution of the soul—the fascist state turns to creating citizens in its own image, collapsing the public and private state. It is here that fascism is most vividly totalitarian; think no further than the Hitler Youth. In fact, fascists are keen to focus on youth development in order to create party loyalists as early as possible (pp. 142-145).
In the final analysis, fascism is a counter-cultural political form that attempts to revolutionize society through its rule. It focuses on the totality of life and not just those activities that are most properly considered “public.” It is here that we see the sharpest distinction with more familiar authoritarian conservatives.
Fascism in the Long-Term. After obtaining power, fascism is left with two roads to take: either continue radicalization, or give into entropy. Fascists could not settle into a form of comfortable rule given their revolutionary bent and need for constant momentum (remember, a key context for fascism is crisis, which propels the movement). When fascists do get comfortable, they become a garden variety conservative authoritarian, such as Franco in Spain—he even suppressed more overt fascists.
As for radicalization, a permission structure is first needed. Historically, the events that allowed for such permission were wars of conquest. The obvious and most horrific example is Nazi Germany’s early success in World War Two that gave way to the Holocaust. Radicalization of fascism entails the replacement of career bureaucrats with sycophants and fanatics; toward the end of the regime, the radical fascist impulse is to unleash violence, including against itself—a distinct characteristic of fascism (p. 169). The entropic side of fascism is one that rules in the midst of the organizational chaos it creates, eventually deteriorating and collapsing.
Finally, fascism creates for itself a succession crisis. This stems from the mystique of the leader. Without the gatherer-turned-chief, the party turns on itself and collapses under the pressure of being directionless. Fascism, as a momentum-driven revolutionary force, does not persist.
So, is Trump a fascist? I leave readers to decide that particular question for themselves. I will provide my own view later in this series. What I can say is that there are many apparent comparisons to be made in our context to the rise of fascism as Paxton describes history. We see deadlock in Congress, intense polarization, and the rise of authoritarian and illiberal tendencies. As a result, what I can say confidently is that the requisite space for fascism does exist, and that irrespective of whether Trump is himself a fascist, there are fascists in his midst, and conservatives do not seem keen to stop them.
An excellent book on the topic is The Tea Party and the Remaking of Republican Conservatism by Theda Skocpol and Vanessa Williamson (Oxford University Press). I remember reading and discussing this book as an undergraduate and many of my peers were troubled by the description of the Republican Party moving rightward, especially after the Bush era.