Politics

The True Danger of Trump’s Bottomless Coup

It ain’t over ’til it’s really over

The biggest problem with Donald Trump’s ongoing coup is that it’s been so wonderfully entertaining. From the Four Seasons Total Landscaping debacle to the sight of Rudy Giuliani dissolving into a puddle of Just For Men and shame, to…whatever this is, it’s been the kind of reality TV spectacular that Trump could only have dreamed of whilst firing people on The Apprentice.

In fact, it’s been so entertaining, that it feels melodramatic to describe it as a coup at all. Coups are violent, bloody affairs that happen in failed states half a world away or in the grim, authoritarian past. They’re ghost stories designed to scare the weak-minded. Depending on where you sit politically, what we’re witnessing now, is either the last, vain attempt of an egomaniac to avoid admitting defeat or a righteous campaign to stand up for those who voted for him. And whichever it is, it’ll be over in a few months, right?

Well, yes and no. It’s true that this particular clown show will be over in a few months. But whether or not Trump succeeds in overturning the election result — all signs thankfully suggest he won’t — the damage he’s doing to America will have consequences far beyond the 20th of January 2021. But before we look forward to what those are, we need to look backwards.

There’s a rule of political discourse, known as Godwin’s law, which states that the first person to make a comparison to Hitler, regardless of the topic being discussed, automatically loses all credibility. So it feels important to point out that even though I’ll be mentioning Hitler here, I’m not trying to compare him to Trump. The two men are obviously very different. But the circumstances which allowed Hitler to declare himself Fuhrer, and the climate which Trump has spent the past four years creating, are worryingly similar. So with all due respect to Godwin, let’s take a look.

Hitler’s rise to power was made possible by the events which followed the end of World War 1. The Germans, already humiliated by their defeat, were subjected to stringent economic penalties. Restrictions were placed on the size and capabilities of Germany’s armed forces. The shame and hardship were so hard to bear that many Germans convinced themselves that they hadn’t lost at all. Instead, they claimed that their rightful victory had been stolen from them by corrupt bureaucrats, a cowardly ruling class, and of course, the corrupting influence of the Jews. Hitler, they believed, was the answer to their problems.

It hardly takes a genius to see the similarities. Hitler promised to return Germany to her former glory by weeding out the traitorous politicians who had cost her the war. Trump promised to “Make America Great Again” by “draining the swamp”. Hitler blamed Germany’s problems on the Jews. Trump blamed Mexican “rapists and criminals”. Hitler’s supporters chanted slogans like “Im Felde Unbesiegt” (Undefeated on the Battlefield), Trump’s supporters had theirs too: “Build the wall”, Lock Her Up”, and of course, his latest: “Stop the steal.”

Just as the Germans felt that they’d been cheated when they lost the war, Trump has convinced his supporters that they’ve been cheated because he lost the election. 88% of Trump voters (for refernce that’s around 65 million people) believe that the 2020 election results are illegitimate. Trump’s attempts to steal the election are almost guaranteed to fail, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already succeeded in convincing millions of Americans that democracy itself is their enemy.

Godwin’s law exists for good reason. Comparing Donald Trump to Hitler is melodramatic. Trump isn’t about to start exterminating people. He’s not going to start a World War. He’s not going to start proselytising about the purity of the Aryan race…actually wait, he might do that.

But to believe that his lack of genocidal tendencies means his actions aren’t dangerous is a mistake. We’re still looking at a catastrophe, we’re just looking at a different type of catastrophe.

Hitler was like a tsunami. His sudden and terrifying rise left the world no choice but to take action. Even as they did, it was clear that nobody would come out unscathed. But in a sense, the fact that the danger was so obvious, made it easier to react. Nobody felt tempted to laugh him off or claim that people were making a fuss about nothing. Yes, Hitler was placated for too long, but people paid attention and took action. There was little choice.

The threat Trump poses is more like sea-level rise than a tsunami; insidious, incremental, dangerously easy to ignore. Rising sea levels pose a far greater threat to humanity than any tsunami, but there’s no immediate danger to react to. Most of us won’t even be alive by the time the worst of its effects are evident. When those effects start to make themselves known, it won’t be in a single, devastating wave. It will be a slowly rising tide. Some people, just like the proverbial frog, won’t even notice what’s happening.

Trump is normalising the idea that democracy is a game. That if at first you don’t succeed, you should try again in the courts or claim that the vote was rigged or demand a do-over until you get the result you want. He’s normalising the idea that showing respect for the institutions that safeguard democracy is for suckers, that it doesn’t matter how you win as long as you do. He’s normalising the idea that the truth is only true when it’s what you want to believe or when it paints you in a favourable light.

It’s no coincidence that Trump supporters are more likely to refuse to wear a mask during a global pandemic or to believe in baseless conspiracy theories like QAnon and Pizzagate or to respond positively to language which paints them as the underdogs in a battle against nebulous elitist forces. Trump has encouraged millions of people to believe that whatever feels right to them, is the truth. And they’ll continue to do so after he’s gone.

The threat that Donald Trump represents isn’t in what he is, but in what he’s normalised. As George Monbiot points out, Trump was too chaotic and impetuous to be truly dangerous. Too ineffective and vain to ever pose a serious threat. But the tricks he used, the dark impulses he appeals to, and the climate of fear and distrust that he’s encouraged, are the same weaknesses that every dictator in history has exploited. The big question isn’t “How long until Trump can’t do any more damage?”, but “How do we repair the damage that he’s already done?” If we don’t prioritise fixing the holes in our political discourse, a smarter, more dangerous populist is sure to take advantage of them.