Image by 愚木混株 Cdd20 from Pixabay.
The true intentions of Trump’s unscrupulous form of government (+Español)
Personal disgust should never be the spark for criticism. In this, as in many other matters, we must strive to be as Spinozist as possible: neither laugh nor cry nor become indignant, but strive to understand, while also allowing room for a heartfelt rejection of the unjust and the ugly. Understanding means, above all, making an effort to fully grasp the object of knowledge; at the same time, understanding is a movement of intelligence that does not discount feelings.
We must engage thoughtfully with this fascist administration to grasp its intentions and potential actions so we can obstruct its agenda or, at the very least, lessen its impact. Fascism thrives on crowds to conceal its own mediocrity—let’s not leave it unchallenged; instead, let’s offer it what it doesn’t expect and what disheartens it: systematic criticism. This new form of fascism isn’t merely a concern for American society. We might consider Silvio Berlusconi as a precursor to this fascism Nuovo, as he surfaced in Italian politics right after the collapse of real socialism.
This historical alignment reflects Walter Benjamin’s assertion that fascism emerges from a failed revolution; in many former communist countries and ex-Soviet republics, enduring de facto regimes have taken root. Perhaps it was the dramatic collapse of the communist utopia that paved the way for this resurgent fascism. Berlusconi, much like Trump, seeks political power for reasons unrelated to genuine politics—their political ambitions directly serve the interests of their economic empires. Furthermore, they swiftly construct a political narrative that justifies their incursions into the realm of governance and politics. Interestingly, this narrative often targets the very system they denounce as corrupt—particularly the judicial system and its institutions, which bear the brunt of their criticisms. Other primary targets of this new fascism’s rhetoric include immigration and globalization. Thus, we discern the three pillars underpinning its redemptive rhetoric and sinister designs: anti-system, anti-immigration, and anti-globalization.
Berlusconi served as prime minister of Italy three times (1994–1995; 2001–2006; 2008–2011), and his terms were consistently marked by scandals and controversies. Jean-Marie Le Pen and his successor have never managed to secure more than a few deputies in the French National Assembly, despite France having its own crypto-fascist in Nicolas Sarkozy. Now, we see Giorgia Meloni in Italy, and Jesús Abascal attempting to take over the presidency of the Spanish Government (they already have Isabel Díaz Ayuso as president of the Community of Madrid), Viktor Orbán in Hungary, and in South America, not distant from the intrigues of fascism, Jair Bolsonaro assumed the government of Brazil following the coup d’état against Dilma Rousseff. Meanwhile, Javier Milei strolls through the Casa Rosada, and Álvaro Uribe still causes a stir in Colombia.
The second appearance of Donald J. Trump, now with the popular vote on his side and a clear advantage in electoral votes, only serves to validate this fascism, providing both real and metaphorical firepower to the fascists in the various satrapies of the empire. This new fascism is merely a rehash of the old, with an aesthetic as kitschy as that of the German or Italian regimes (from the Führer’s little mustache to the Demagogue’s toupee), employing intimidating rhetoric that portrays the past as a lost paradise while blaming a sector of the population—the most vulnerable—for the misfortunes and setbacks of the present. This mirrors the actions of his coreligionists in the twentieth century, displaying conduct in both private and public that is as banal as it is venal, echoing the behavior of his predecessors.
This does not imply that fascism is incapable of committing violent acts, waging wars, and perpetrating genocides, or of embracing and expressing extreme ideas, as long as its weak arguments hold sway—we already know what fascists can do. A fascist will always be a criminal, and ours is one, both de jure (convicted in a New York City court of law, see the legal document here) and de facto (he granted a presidential pardon to all those convicted in proven cases, in a court of law, of insurrection and other crimes during the events of January 6, 2021, read the executive order here).
What relationship does this new fascism have with classical or historical fascism? Both share a foundation of authoritarianism, demagogy, intimidating tactics, and absurd aesthetics, characteristics that the demagogue and his followers present with a refined art of pastiche. However, they differ in what Alberto Toscano, the Italian cultural critic, social theorist, philosopher, and translator, describes in an interview published in Communis as the “two disanalogies.” The first is that this current form is not a mass movement, and its social base, understood electorally, is supported by “fragmented publics [that are moved] by disaffection and disaffiliation.” The second is that the votes cast are not primarily for the candidates of the new fascist ultra-right but, rather, represent “a protest vote for the status quo.”
Italian and German fascism in the last century were mass movements that initially emerged in a very horizontal manner, rallying the entire population for total war. They eventually transformed into highly vertical partisan formations that operated from the highest levels of the State down to the homes of ordinary people. These fascisms exploited sad emotions, irrational fear, and patriotism to ensure that the vast masses of Italy and Germany, through their dedication and loyalty, would not only elevate them to power but also enable them to seize absolute control over the State, its institutions, the military apparatus, and even the social structures accompanying every State institution. As Toscano describes, the electoral base of this new fascism consists of a large segment of the population that has lost all connection with the political system, who have stopped being political subjects and have become consumers of any ideological by-product that promises to fulfill their desire to atone for the omissions and injuries inflicted by the liberal democratic system that once promised them full happiness and freedom.
Large segments of the American population have become alienated not only from their status as political subjects but also as citizens, instead being transformed into consumers who suffer from two forms of alienation: the first involves alienated labor, which renders individuals “strangers to themselves,” while the second pertains to the political subject who, by being desubjectivized, turns into an object of his own consumption, resembling a kind of social cannibalism. These sectors represent the “fragmented publics” that currently function as the electoral base for the fascist project of social reordering—now led by an oligarchy without birth or lineage but boasting fortunes in the billions, amassed from the new information, communication, and social media technologies market—what some refer to as the technofeudalism of Silicon Valley’s barons.
To accommodate the interests of this new technocratic power, a vast operation to change the forms of government and the state is needed. This is the objective of the Trump Administration: to act as a drawbridge between the old liberal democratic model of the state and the new one formed by the feudal elites of technological capital. With this purpose, Trump oversees this kakistocracy to ensure that the transition is as smooth (and beneficial) as possible at the top, even if it violently claims numerous victims among the common people.
