Research
initiated in the immediate post-war years in the US on ‘the authoritarian
personality’ has undergone a revival in the era of Putin, Trump and other
right-wing authoritarians. The presuppositions and explanatory power of the
idea that sections of populations have deep psychological predispositions to
being seduced by faux salvific
strong men are both contestable.
Dean
and Altemeyer’s Authoritarian Nightmare draws
on updated theoretical modelling of the authoritarian personality, including
Altemeyer’s own studies, from the previous five decades. The book firstly
examines why Mr. Trump is who he is, on the basis of what is now known about
his pre-Presidential life (chapters 2-6). Secondly, in chapter 7-11, Dean and
Altemeyer tackle why his ‘base’ continues to adhere to Trump, despite his
craven amorality and –as the authors soundly predicted in 2020– his evident
willingness to overthrow constitutional government if it opposed his will.
For
many readers, it will be the second part of Authoritarian
Nightmare which is more novel and informative. There are by
now many accounts from people who have dealt with Mr. Trump about his
childhood, his pathological dishonesty, his bankruptcies in the 1980s and the
early 2000s, his paternal and bank bailouts, his tantrums, lasting disinterest
in anything beyond his own ego, and his patented misogyny.
Much
left liberal criticism of Trump has remained at the moralizing level, ringing
its hands at his coarse sexism, racism, and dog-whistling to the very worst
parts of the American community and collective psyche. Yet, it was clear as
early as 2016, and certainly after ‘Access Hollywood’ (185), that Trump’s
monumental flaws do not matter one bit to the 41-45% of Americans who make up
Trump’s base (those Steve Bannon affectionately calls the ‘hammerheads’ (181)).
If anything, these flaws seem to further endear the man, solidify his
supporters’ identifications with him, and attest to them his gruff authenticity
as a nonpolitician sent by God to Washington to restore the greatness of white
America.
Why
are Mr Trump’s followers so loyal to the man, and so blind to his flaws and
cons, in ways that seem at times to have even amazed the Donald himself? And
what if anything can be done to break this spell, before Trump or a more efficient
successor succeeds in making America into an openly authoritarian state? These
are the pressing questions Dean and Altemeyer’s 2020 book addresses. The
authors promise readers that (xiv):
We
know how [Trump’s base] are created, where they are concentrated, how they
think, why they are so easily led, why they are so aggressive, and even a lot
that they do not know about themselves. Social scientists have been fascinated
for decades by the authoritarian followers who, as Erich Fromm put it and as
Dostoyevsky portrayed in ‘The Legend of the Grand Inquisitor’ in The Brothers Karamazov, want to escape from freedom.
Authoritarian Nightmare’s central
claim, based on extensive social scientific research, 2016 election exit
polling, and a dedicated 2018 survey of 1000 subjects from across the US, is
that many contemporary Americans classify psychologically as ‘authoritarian
followers’ (RWAs, ‘right wing authoritarians’) (214-30). A smaller, but
seemingly growing number are ‘social dominators’ (SDOs) (104-124). A smaller
number again (thankfully, as we’ll see) are ‘double highs,’ bringing together
the worst attributes of RWAs and SDOs into one ethnocentric, angry, fearful,
and ruthless combination (219-29).
It
is these personality types who predominantly populate Trump’s base. It is they
who have resonated with him ever since he uttered the sentence about Mexicans
as ‘criminals’ and ‘rapists’ (117-19). And it is they who will likely continue
to support him, disregarding all evidence attesting to his amorality, dishonesty,
incompetence for office, and indifference to democracy.
For
readers new to this field, the dramatis
personae are as follows. ‘RWAs’ (chapter 6 & 8) deepest
framing attitude towards the world is fear. For them, the world is a dangerous
place, in which safety can be found by cleaving to integrated groups, closed to
others. These groups, to remain strong, should be presided over by powerful
leaders, capable of doing what it takes to keep the in-group safe.
As
their high scores in ‘the Right-wing personality scale’ developed by the
authors (with Patrick Murray) for the 2018 National Survey (214-30) attest,
these folk crave ‘a high degree of submission to the perceived established,
legitimate authorities in society’ (124). They exhibit ‘a high level of conventionalism,
insisting that others follow the norms endorsed by their authorities’ (124).
The
darker flipside of this folksy wish for social order is that they are capable
‘high levels of aggression in the name of their authorities,’ should leaders
sanction violence towards minorities or outgroups (p. 124). RWAs are also
deeply anxious about critical thinking and questioning of authority (159-67).
They resonate especially warmly with such hyper-conservative propositions as
‘there is nothing lower than a person who betrays his group or stirs up
disagreement within it’ (167).
The
study of RWAs predated research into the subgroup of authoritarians the authors
call ‘social dominance oriented’ individuals (SDOs). And whilst the two cohorts
share similarly intolerant attitudes to Others, their psychologies are
different. If for RWAs the predominant affect towards others is fear, for SDOs
it is contempt, scorn, or hatred for others whom they perceive to be beneath
them in power and worth (104-23). SDOs’ profile seems close to that of clinical
sociopaths or others on the narcissistic spectrum.
They
support inequality between groups. They tend to believe that their groups are
(or should be) more powerful than others. Social dominators also apply their
belief in natural inequality to the personal level. They tend to be ‘determined
to gain power over people,’ every chance they get (108).
For
such people—and Donald J. Trump without question maxes out the scale here—power
is the only good. Every social interaction is one more contest to see who is
top dog. Hierarchy is everywhere. ‘Strength’ and ‘weakness’ are the only
realities. People are either ‘winners’ (them) or ‘losers’ who rationalise their
inability to ‘win’ by spouting egalitarian claptrap. SDOs are hence those individuals
who score in the top 25% of the ‘Power mad scale,’ where subjects are asked to
register responses (from ‘strongly disagree’ through to ‘strongly agree’) to
such edifying propositions as ‘[i]t’s a mistake to interfere with the ‘law of
the jungle’; ‘[s]ome people were meant to dominate others’; ‘[w]inning is not
the first thing; it’s the only thing’; ‘[i]t’s a dog-eat-dog world where you
have to be ruthless at times.’ They will ‘strongly agree’ that it is good
if other people fear them (290-92).
SDOs
put themselves forward to lead, even if they are not qualified for office. They
project their aggression onto rivals and outgroups. SDOs respond to
challenge(r)s by escalation, force, and fraud. When a cohort featuring a small
number of ‘double high’ RWAs with SDO traits played the famous ‘Global Game
Change Experiments’ (197-203), this cohort nominated themselves to rule the
different nations (or govern from behind the throne). Their arts of the deal
quickly led the imaginary world, in one case, into thermonuclear war, and in a
second case, to an arms race, imperialistic war-making, environmental
depredation, the death of 1.6 billion people, and imminent apocalypse (202-3).
One
criticism of the authoritarian personality research, as an explanation of why
millions of people passionately identify with men like Trump, is that it seems
to confirm what we hardly needed controlled social scientific experiments to
verify. Who, excepting Trump supporters themselves (169-172), doubted that his
base are especially insular, fearful, prejudiced, and credulous, ever ready to
assume the conspiratorial worst about anything ‘liberal,’ and the best of their
Leader and his allies? Who doubted that many people attracted to the Donald saw
in him the glorious incarnation of the kind of apex predatorial ‘winner’ they
wished to be, who was unafraid to tell it how it is? (117, 121).
The
vital question which Dean and Altemeyer’s book does not address, anywhere near
as robustly as we might wish, is: where do these authoritarians and social
dominators come from? If RWAs and SDOs are natural psychological types, they
would presumptively recur in every population in comparable proportions. So,
where were they and who were they voting for in the US before 2016? Or, if
their number has grown—to the around 40% who, it seems, will live and die MAGA
supporters, even if he ends up imprisoned for sedition—what factors explain
this growth?
Psychological
attributes are not produced in populations in sociopolitical, or socioeconomic
vacuums. So, if America has become more fearful, resentful, and angry since
(say) the 1970s, we would need other forms of explanation than Dean and
Altemeyer’s approach allows.
With
that said, the newer research into RWAs which Authoritarian
Nightmare clearly exhibits does add considerable insight
concerning the question of why the MAGA base shows itself so impervious to
reasoned criticism of their hero, and so determined to stand by him despite two
impeachments, January 6, and the fraudulence of his claims that he won the 2020
election. Some of the most interesting material in Authoritarian
Nightmare comes when Dean and Altemeyer outline results
concerning the ways high RWAs think, given their overwhelming, fearful
commitment to order and in-group belonging, at nearly all costs.
They
are more prone than other cohorts to compartmentalization of conflicting ideas,
which enables them to ignore contradictions in their beliefs (including backing
a ‘law and order’ president who has shown his desire to discard constitutional
limits again and again) (129-132). They apply double standards, based on their
instinctive, Schmittian division of all the world into friends and enemies—so
Clinton was ‘crooked,’ whilst Trump is the most honest of brokers, etc.
(132-134). They have difficulty assessing evidence, and readily accept faulty
logic and hearsay, if it supports their pre-established beliefs (think,
‘birther gate’ etc.) (137-39). They are inflexibly dogmatic, since their
beliefs are formed on the basis of accepting the authority of in-group leaders’
ideas (‘since-you-say-so’) (147-49). They readily believe that everybody
‘really’ believes as they do, unless they are lying, as in ‘fake news’ (161).
They lack self-awareness (169-70), and perceive their views as ‘moderate,’ even
when test results show that their warm responses to propositions like ‘[o]ur
country desperately needs a mighty leader who will do what has to be done to
destroy the radical new ways and sinfulness that are ruining us’ are extreme,
relative to other cohorts (126, 164-66)).
As
such, the commitment of RWAs to preserving the civil liberties (of others, as
against of those like them) is paper thin (150-154). The 1982 ‘Posse’
experiments on high RWAs suggest that, if their leaders told them to persecute
some outgroup (whether ‘communists,’ ‘homosexuals,’ or even ‘right-wing
authoritarians’), they can readily be brought to turn on friends and neighbours
whom they suspected of belonging to this group, hunt down and arrest these
‘reds,’ use violence and support the use of violence against the outgroup, up
to and including executions (153).
Given
this doxastic profile (that is, concerning how they form their beliefs), Dean
and Altemeyer’s research underscores how impotent all moral criticisms of Mr.
Trump (or other authoritarian leaders) are likely to be, in turning supporters
away from him. This research also suggests that the traditional mechanisms for
holding authoritarian leaders like Trump accountable, through fact-based
reportage and independent inquiries, are barely likely to touch the sides of
the base’s love for the strongman.
For
what is now motivating the authoritarian followers, as against the SDOs, is
fear and anxiety that the world is a dangerous place. This makes their
propensity to submit to someone like Trump –even when they proclaim themselves
‘born again’ (176-93), and even though Trump has been acing the seven deadly
sins of lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride since earliest
youth (177)– a non-negotiable thing. It can only be budged, at least in some of
these folk or their possible successors, by lasting sociopolitical and wider
changes which would cease to make the world seem to them such an insecure,
uncertain, heartless, dog-eat-dog place.
However,
as we commented above, the pursuit such changes, which would implicate
political economics and collective organization and mobilization, is beyond the
scope of Dean and Altemeyer’s book, which remains very much at the level of
what Marxist theory calls the superstructure. The research on the authoritarian
personality, so rich in insights concerning the psychosocial symptoms of later
neoliberalism in its period of permanent crisis, points to the need to
understand and politically redress the causes of such malaises.
Matt
Sharpe is the author of articles on critical theory, neoliberalism and the
authors of the anti-liberal Right, from Martin Heidegger to Leo Strauss.