If We Only Knew

If We Only Knew

“Ah, If We Only Knew”

These words, spoken by German Chancellor Theobald von Bethmann Hollweg, captured his struggle to explain the choices that had led Europe into the catastrophe of World War I. But what, truly, was gained? If we only knew.

Today’s polarized political climate, influenced by figures like Pat Buchanan and Newt Gingrich, has paved the way for an incompetent authoritarianism embodied by Donald J. Trump. Buchanan’s 1991 invocation of “America First” laid the ideological groundwork for Trump’s election, channelling resentment against free-market economics and globalization, blamed for eroding the American heartland.

The slogans “America First” and “Make America Great Again” echo sentiments of the 1930s, when fascists declared the end of liberal democracy. These calls to nationalism conjure the warning attributed to writer Sinclair Lewis or politician Huey Long: “When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in a flag.” Sinclair Lewis (1885-1951), the first American Nobel laureate in Literature in 1930, offered sharp critiques of American middle-class conformity, capturing the narrow-mindedness and conformity that marked the early 20th century.

His 1935 novel It Can’t Happen Here explores the rise of fascism in the United States, centred on a populist politician whose demagoguery and authoritarian promises eerily resemble those of Louisiana’s Huey Long. Long (1893-1935) was a divisive figure, celebrated by some as a champion of the poor and condemned by others as a potential fascist. His assassination in 1935, just as Lewis’s novel was published, intensified the sense that Lewis’s warnings were uncomfortably close to reality.

In 2016, American voters may have anticipated the implications of a Trump presidency, but they didn’t fully grasp its potential impact—and handed him the White House In hindsight, they could say, “If we only knew.” But in the 2020s, the electorate had more to go on, following the credo: “If a person shows you who they are, believe them.”

The January 6, 2021, assault on the U.S. Capitol echoed the chaos of Berlin’s Brownshirts in the 1930s, staining democracy itself. But even in the wake of this event, many voters remained undeterred. Over the past four years, Trump has confirmed his disdain for democracy and constitutional checks. Unlike his first term, where guardrails remained, this time he returns with greater power and fewer constraints.

America’s inescapable history of xenophobia is reflected in this choice. The electorate knowingly supports a leader who fuels nativist, dehumanizing portrayals of immigrants, a sentiment that rests on the belief that a true national identity depends on a particular racial, ethnic, or religious makeup that rejects demographic change—a theme mirrored in Europe. Trump’s 2025 agenda builds on familiar proposals from his first term but with greater force, including mass deportations, punitive tariffs, a hardline stance against China, dismantling the Department of Education, and restructuring NATO. Voters have now handed Trump the keys to the White House—a crucial lifeline for his own survival, providing him the means to deconstruct America’s democratic foundations.

This agenda diverges starkly from the “city upon a hill” vision upheld by figures like JFK and Ronald Reagan. As history shows—from Greece to Rome—democracy, without reasoned debate, rationality, and compromise, can descend into tyranny. Trump’s second term threatens to “reopen the Pandora’s Box of Hate,” posing a direct danger to the Constitution, American governance, and national security.

Some argue that Trump’s election, followed by a peaceful transfer of power, reaffirms democracy’s resilience. But with Congress compromised, institutions weakened, and a poorly informed citizenry, America risks following Rome’s fate. As Konrad Adenauer, Germany’s first post-WWII chancellor, wryly noted: “God limited man’s intelligence but left his stupidity boundless.”

With Trump, America enters what Plato might recognize as a cycle of decay, sliding toward oligarchy as wealth concentrates among the elite. America’s path increasingly mirrors that of the Roman Republic, which persisted for nearly five centuries before falling. In Rome, “a lie was not a lie if a man had the audacity to keep asserting it as true,” and the people grew weary of self-governance.Rome showed us how constitutional erosion and the rise of autocrats hollowed out governance. Like Sulla’s “proscriptions”—an ancient form of cancel culture in the service of tyranny—Trump’s purge of dissent mirrors the tactics that marked Rome’s decline.

The American ideal of “exceptionalism” falters in the Trump era, mirroring the decline of the Roman Republic, where citizens were pacified with “bread and circuses” as their freedoms eroded. Nationalism and authoritarianism, when intertwined, often yield devastating consequences. Project 2025, a detailed blueprint by the far-right Heritage Foundation, envisions a government where Christianity dominates policy, significantly expanding presidential powers to reshape society on contentious issues such as abortion, immigration, climate change, and the culture wars. Coupled with a far-right Supreme Court, deepening inequality, and the escalating climate crisis, the warning implicit in “If we only knew” has tragically become the reality of “We knew.”

Yet tomorrow, the sun will rise again. In the aftermath, Americans must reflect on the reasons behind this election outcome that put a convicted criminal back in the White House—and on why so many reject the American experiment in freedom and democracy. The rising tide of division, injustice, and inequality reflects a nation unprepared for the shocks of industrial and technological change, leaving many adrift in modern society.

Nevertheless, America remains, for now, a constitutional republic, though Republicans now control all three branches of government. The rule of law may be weakened, and American exceptionalism tarnished, but the Republic’s framework endures—though it may be fragile. Trump will likely pursue his promises, purge government departments, and empower loyalists to enact a new order.

If We Only Knew

Had we seen it coming, perhaps we would have recognized the transformation—a shift so profound it seemed impossible in a land of liberty and checks and balances. And yet here we stand, on the threshold of an American oligarchy shaped by a radical vision—a “deconstruction of the administrative state,” as former strategist Steve Bannon once put it.

Loyalty defines this administration, and the Trump loyalists now in Washington are intent on an even more intense pursuit of their agenda. Their approach is not merely a continuation of Trump’s first term; it’s an escalation, a determined undoing of democratic norms and liberal values dating back to the era of Theodore Roosevelt. Figures like Stephen Miller, Attorney General Matt Gaetz, and others bring a hard-line, authoritarian approach, recalling historical regimes built on ideological zeal and power consolidation.

Consider the lineup: Stephen Miller, newly appointed deputy chief of staff for policy, is pushing an “America for Americans only” mantra, with mass deportations as a central plank. Attorney General Matt Gaetz, Secretary of Defence Pete Hegseth, and others signal a strict new approach to domestic and foreign policy. Former adversaries like Marco Rubio have been reshaped to fit Trump’s vision, while environmental rollbacks are framed as “energy independence.” This assembly excludes moderates, embodying Bannon’s ambition to bulldoze institutions that safeguard democracy.

Trump’s leadership, reminiscent of Rome’s Sulla, relies on loyalty, exclusion, and the use of fear to consolidate power. His threats to deploy force against domestic dissent echo Sulla’s march on Rome with military forces, setting a chilling precedent for what might lie ahead. This administration’s Ayn Rand-inspired vision rejects social welfare and government oversight, framing altruism as weakness and exalting individualism over the collective good. In this emerging oligarchy, the lines between public office and private interest blur dangerously. The elite, often shielded from accountability or antitrust enforcement, provide “essential” services to the government—services financed by the state—thereby rendering themselves indispensable. This cycle of reciprocal advantage entrenches power at the top of the socio-economic hierarchy, corrupting capitalism and eroding democracy in a single, insidious stroke.

If We Only Knew

As we examine the political landscape, it becomes evident that the incoming Trump administration—marked by controversial nominations such as Matt Gaetz, Tulsi Gabbard, and Robert Kennedy Jr.—threatens to disregard established traditions, undermine respect for institutions, and erode democratic norms. This vision of an “America for Americans only,” where dissent is stifled and power increasingly centralized, will have severe consequences for both the economy and society. The price will be paid by all who cherish democracy. Internationally, the climate may grow more volatile, with institutions fracturing under mounting strain.

In light of this looming reality, surrender is not an option, nor is acquiescence to the yoke of oligarchy or tyranny. In the domestic sphere, resistance must persist through legal challenges, mass demonstrations, and robust civic engagement. While history shows that tyranny often thrives on public complacency, true patriots must rise to defend the Republic’s founding values. Only through vigilance and resistance can liberty and justice endure for future generations.

WJJH-19.11.2024

Diatribe: Reflecting on the rise of authoritarianism in America, drawing parallels between historical events and the current political landscape under Donald Trump. Highlighting the erosion of democratic norms, the embrace of nationalism, and the consequences of supporting a leader who prioritizes loyalty and exclusion. The need for resistance and vigilance is emphasized to preserve democratic values.