Ah, but where might that be? Amos Miller (using tools from the good folks at Mapbox) shares a handy site with the answers…
The Civic Atlas is a project which marries leading civic data sets with information on governance types and physical capitals.
This project is an exploration of physical governance. As international relations enter another era of rocky uncertainty, it’s important to have the opportunity to look at a world which is not flat or equal. Many countries are on the march away from freedom and democracy towards autocracy. Many are already there. Explore this project by selecting various freedom and democracy indices in the dropdown menu. Click a state to see where its legislative authority is housed, more information about the country, its governance system, and its governance scores. To learn more about each index, click on its link in the nav bar while selected.
This is our globe. We all live here.
A visualization of governance around the globe: “The Civic Atlas.”
As we compare and contrast, we might spare a thought for Alexis de Tocqueville; he died on this date in 1859. A French diplomat, political philosopher, and historian, he is best known for his works Democracy in America (appearing in two volumes, 1835 and 1840) and The Old Regime and the Revolution (1856). In both, he analyzed the living standards and social conditions of individuals as well as their relationship to the market and state in Western societies. Democracy in America was published after Tocqueville’s travels in the United States (on a mission to examine prisons and penitentiaries here) and is today considered an immensely important early work of sociology and political science.
“The surface of American society is covered with a layer of democracy, from beneath which the old aristocratic colors sometimes peep” – from Democracy in America
Don Moynihan argues that here has been a shift in the character– the instincts, the motivations, and thus the patterns of decision and action– of our government…
One of the strangest moments to emerge from the U.S. kidnapping of Nicolás Maduro was the flurry of images posted by President Trump on Truth Social. It felt a bit like a student who can’t decide which spring break photos look cutest, so they just upload them all.
The intent seemed to be to create an iconic image reminiscent of the White House Situation Room during the raid that killed Osama bin Laden—a gathering of stoic men (no girls allowed!) staring grimly at some unseen screen. The message: “Look how serious and important our work is!” Yet, the staged nature of these photos undermines that effect, leaving the whole scene feeling less like history in the making and more like an amateur theater production of a Broadway classic.
In one image, the Director of the CIA, the Chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the Secretary of Defense are grouped around a laptop. Behind them, unmistakably, a screen displays a feed from X—complete with a prominent yellow emoji. In other pictures, “Venezuela” appears to be in the search box.
With the best intelligence systems in the world at their fingertips, they were checking X in the midst of the mission? Combined with the curtains separating some section of Mar‑A‑Lago from the rest of the President’s resort, the images create an almost surreal air. It felt as if a group of twelve-year-old boys in a basement had been handed control of the most lethal military in history—and were using it to boost their online brands.
Trump is undoubtedly the American president who has most effectively wielded social media: drawing attention, reshaping norms, and fueling conspiracy theories. The successful use of social media, for example, turned avowed MAGA isolationists into enthusiastic colonial imperialists overnight.
But I want to suggest that what we are witnessing from the Trump administration is not just skillful manipulation of social media—it’s something more profoundly worrying. Today, we live in a clicktatorship, ruled by a LOLviathan. Our algothracy is governed by poster brains.
It’s worth remembering that social media operates like a drug, feeding us dopamine and rewiring our brains’ reward pathways. The fundamentally unhealthy dynamics are worsened by the fact that standing out online often demands being awful—channeling negative emotions like anger and outrage, usually based on misinformation or conspiracy theories.
None of this is new. Indeed, there is a booming political science literature on the effects of social media on voter behavior. Chris Hayes and others have written persuasively about the how toxic attention farming is for us personally and for our democracy. But I want to make the case that we should also consider how social media it is affecting how policymakers use public power.
What I’m arguing is that the Trump administration isn’t just using social media to shape a narrative. Many of its members are deeply addicted to it. We would be concerned if a senior government official was an alcoholic or drug addict, knowing it could impair judgment and decisionmaking. But we should be equally concerned about Pete Hegseth and Elon Musk’s social media compulsions—just as much as their alcohol or ketamine use, respectively.
Overexposure to online engagement has cooked the brains of some of the most powerful people in the world. This is not exclusively an American phenomenon. President Yoon Suk Yeol seemed to have genuinely believed online conspiracy theories about election fraud, motivating his declaration of martial law and triggering a constitutional crisis, and his eventual arrest, in Korea.
But in the US government, poster brain feels endemic. The Trump administration is made up of a cabinet of posters. For many, that’s how they won Trump’s attention. The head of the FBI, for example, is a podcaster—that’s his main qualifier for the job.
They view the world through a social media lens in a way that is plausibly corrupting their judgment and undermining their performance. Lets think through how poster brain can affect how people in government operate…
[Moynihan explores, with illustrative examples, online bubbles, conflicts between professional and online indentities, the degradation of professional norms and work practices, and the altering of decision-making to be responsive to social media– to create content]
I’m just scratching the surface here. Pick any federal agency, and you can find examples of poster brains making important decisions. This trend is likely to only get worse as digital natives enter key government roles. And there are likely a host of other ways these patterns are undermining the professional behavior of people in government that I have not identified. In particular, the Trump administration represents the intersection of poster brain, personalism, and authoritarianism that seems especially toxic…
… The bottom line is that it we need to take more seriously how social media has rewired the brains—and behavior—of those running our country.
The estimable Henry Farrell has re-posted a (slightly revised) piece that was sub-linked in an early (R)D– a compelling argument that “we need, right at the moment, to think very clearly about how power is won or lost”…
… The current U.S. president is looking to seize power that he clearly is not entitled to under the law and the constitution, and that will usher through some kind of regime change if he succeeds. Many people are trying to resist. What are Trump’s strengths and weaknesses? What are the strengths and weaknesses of those who want to oppose him?
There’s a simple account of power that I think is useful here. It is developed in this paper by the late Russell Hardin, but really descends from David Hume’s understanding of politics.
The fundamental argument is this: that power in modern societies depends on social coordination. That is just as true of aspiring authoritarians like Trump as of the people who want to mobilize against him. As Hume says (quoted in Hardin):
No man would have any reason to fear the fury of a tyrant, if he had no authority over any but from fear; since, as a single man, his bodily force can reach but a small way, and all the farther power he possesses must be founded either on our own opinion, or on the presumed opinion of others.
Those who want to win power can only do so by persuading others. All tyrants must worry that their grip on power rests on such opinion. Hardin:
As a contemporary lawyer puts this argument: “No state could possibly compel people to obey all these rules at gunpoint; there would not be enough soldiers and policemen to hold the guns (a sort of Orwellian vision of society), they would have to sleep sooner or later, and then anarchy might break out.”
Equally, even if the people might overwhelm the tyrant if they ever joined together, it is very hard for them to organize against him, especially in a fully developed authoritarian state.
That is why authoritarian rulers devote a lot of time to preventing unrest from breaking out. Their best strategy for survival is to actually be popular. But that is hard to keep up. Acceptable substitutes include preventing people from discovering how unpopular the regime is, controlling media (to prevent coordination), and deploying the threat of physical violence to intimidate.
The problem with all of these strategies is that the ruler can do none of it on their own. Even the threat of violence, when looked at closely, requires some degree of willing coordination among the soldiers and policemen. That is why dictators are so careful about how they treat their armed forces. Authoritarians need to worry about the masses, but even more about their own coalitions.
More generally: struggles for power are struggles over the means of coordination. Who is capable of coordinating better, wins. And want-to-be authoritarians and mass publics face different coordination problems.
If you are an aspiring authoritarian, your strategy is to persuade others that they need to be part of your coalition. Hardin (this time on Adam Smith):
In a competitive world of pastoralists, one benefits best from association with the most powerful tribe. Hence, if someone rises to capable leadership with [sic] a tribe, others will be attracted to join with it. The result eventually will be remarkable power in the control of the leader of the tribe. Combination for the sake of survival then makes it possible not merely to survive but to thrive and even to plunder.
In more modern circumstances, your best strategy as an aspiring tyrant is likely to convince others (a) that they do live in a society of competing groups, and (b) that the smart money will always be on joining the dominant group, and not being one of the dominated ones.
Hardin continues:
This is essentially an argument from coordination. We coalesce because it is individually in our interest to do so as long as others do so as well. What we need to guide is in coalescing with others is merely the evidence of sufficient leadership and sufficient members to make our joining them clearly beneficial.
That, however, isn’t quite right. The authoritarian who wants to build a ruling coalition needs not only to make her success seem like a fait accompli. She also needs to persuade others that they will prosper rather than suffer from joining. The aspiring authoritarian needs to persuade allies that she (and they) will predate on outgroups, and that she will not predate on the allies themselves.
That process of persuasion becomes more difficult, the more unbounded the ambitions of the wannabe authoritarian are (I lay out a version of this argument here, in a paper that began from a conversation with Hardin and Margaret Levi a quarter of a century ago). The more powerful and unruly the authoritarian becomes, the more readily they can make promises or threats. Equally, the less credible those promises or threats become, both to allies and to enemies.
Absolute power implies absolute impunity: if I enjoy such power, I have no incentive to behave trustworthily to anyone. For just the same reason, no-one has any incentive to trust me. You will not believe my promises, and you may fear that if you give in to my threats, you will only open yourself to further abuse. Thus – as I, as an aspiring authoritarian move closer to unbounded control, I need to artfully balance the benefits that my power can bring to my allies with the fear those allies may reasonably have over what happens should that power be turned against them.
The problem faced by mass publics is different. For all the language about the ‘tyranny of the masses,’ they find it difficult to coordinate on rewarding friends and punishing enemies. That makes them less likely to go bad, at least in the way that tyrants can go bad. But it also makes it more difficult for them to coordinate against incipient tyranny, even when they know that everyone would be better off if they did.
On the one hand, under some circumstances, the costs of action may be quite low. If protest is cheap, then protestors are playing a nearly pure coordination game, where everyone will resist if they reasonably assume that everyone else will resist too. Hardin:
coordination may so greatly reduce costs that the latter are almost negligible, so that the slightest moral commitment may tip the scales toward action. Just as it would be odd for many Americans in communities in which voting is easy to balk at the minor cost in inconvenience, so it might seem odd for many workers or soldiers or others to balk at joining a crowd to march on the palace or the Bastille. This is not identical to a multiple coordination problem, such as that in the driving convention, in which one simply wants to go with the majority. In the revolutionary coordination, one has an active preference between the outcome of full attack and that of no attack. Still, one prefers to attack if enough others do and not to attack if enough others do not.
On the other, rulers and aspiring rulers can recognize this risk and counter-attack.
It was perhaps the startling ease with which spontaneous revolutions took control in cities that led the French under Thiers to put down the Paris Commune with such thoroughgoing brutality as to make it seem more nearly like murder than warfare. The answer to the coordination explanation of revolutionary action is draconian force. This lesson of the Commune has been learned well by many later regimes and leaders in various places, such as the Nazis in Czechoslovakia, Stalin in the Soviet Union, Pinochet in Chile, and Videla in Argentina, with their harsh, blanket suppression of dissenters and potential dissenters. They raise the likely costs of revolutionary activity enough to change its structure. … If the old state raises the costs enough to individuals for revolutionary activity, it overcomes the power of coordination to reduce the costs of revolutionary activity. It forces potential revolutionaries to see their problem overwhelmingly as a prisoner’s dilemma in which free-riding is in the individuals’ interest.
This helps explain some of the actions of Trump and those around him. Their approach to both universities and law firms has been to make simple coordination seem like a prisoner’s dilemma, by picking off opponents, one by one, and by trying to create a common understanding that collective resistance is useless, since your potential allies are likely to defect. The early decision of one extremely prominent law firm, Paul Weiss, to defect, shaped common expectations so that several others rushed immediately to defect too, for fear that they would be stranded amidst the dominated group, rather than joining the dominating coalition in a subordinated role.
To bring the different strands of the argument together, Trump’s strategy has been much less effective than it might have been. Trump has shown he is unwilling to stick by deals. Law firms that have submitted find that they are on the hook for far more than they bargained for. Columbia University, after making humiliating and profound concessions, finds that it is expected to make far greater ones, with no guarantee that even these will satisfy the Trump administration’s demands
As a whole body of research on “tying the king’s hands” argues, independent actors will prefer to flee monarchs who refuse to be bound rather than to cooperate with them, because they know that such monarchs can’t be trusted. Any deal that they make can later be un-made, and probably will be, if unmaking it is to the king’s advantage. The best option may be not to submit, especially if you believe that others are similarly unwilling to comply. This may, in effect, turn what was a prisoner’s dilemma (in which everyone’s best strategy is to defect) back into a nearly pure coordination game again, allowing easier collective resistance.
Or, it may not. If people don’t have reason to believe that others will stand up, then they still are unlikely to stand up themselves.
This then, gives us a simplified but useful understanding of where we are right now. The good news is that the Trump administration is playing its hand very badly. If Trump had been more willing to accept defectors into his camp, by sticking to deals that gave them something worth having, he would be in a much stronger situation than he is at the moment. Furthermore, and somewhat less obviously, this may also disrupt his own existing coalition. Wall Street, for example, may worry that it is next for the chopping block. Silicon Valley the same.
The bad news is that the opposition is much more disorganized than it ought to be. Coordination is bolstered by shared knowledge that others will coordinate too. We don’t have that, in part because of lack of leadership, in part because of a media landscape that makes it difficult to generate such shared knowledge. Remember Hume’s phrase about the “presumed opinion of others.” Our presumptions about what other people think can play an extraordinarily powerful role in shaping how we ourselves think, and what we are prepared to do. And in a country where such presumptions can be grossly skewed, it can be very hard to generate coordinated action. Finally, exactly because the opposition is disorganized, and because humans are human, it faces its own collective version of Trump’s temptation to humiliate and subjugate defectors from the other side, rather than welcoming them in.
The strategic implications for what to do are not surprising. Leadership is crucial. It is really, really hard to make a coalition cohere if the plausible leaders abdicate. More generally, figure out how to generate common knowledge that will enable coordination. Protests – especially if they are widespread, and especially if they happen in unusual places, or involve surprising coalitions can help generate information cascades. But getting media coverage and broader conversation is important.
Welcome in the strayed sheep, and work on widening the cracks in the other coalition. Leopard-face-eating memes may feel personally satisfying, but they usually do not ease the process of converting disillusioned opponents into active allies. As Adam Przeworski says, the Polish coalition to push back against the populists only succeeded when people who were ferociously divided over a moral issue agreed to make common cause.
Crucially, the parties forming the alliance agreed not to confront the major issue that divided them: abortion. They agreed that defending democracy was more important than whatever values divided them, and that conflicts over abortion would be managed once victory over PiS was secured. Hence, both the opponents and the supporters of the freedom of choice could promise their respective electorates that they would promote their values if democracy was restored, while claiming that the immediate task was to restore it.
If power involves coordination, coordinate! Help build your coalition as far as it can go. Do everything you can to minimize defections from it, and to maximize defections from the other side. Take advantage of the opposition’s vulnerabilities and mistakes – especially the trust problems that are likely to flourish in a coalition around an actor who aspires to untrammeled power and is deeply untrustworthy.. Assume that the other side is trying to attack your own vulnerabilities, and mitigate as much as possible. And do what you can now; things are likely to get much harder, very quickly, if the opposition’s victory becomes a self-confirming expectation…
As we get it together, we might recall that it was on this date in 1962 that Bob Dylan appeared for the first time at Carnegie Hall in New York City as part of a hootenanny which included his first public performance of “A Hard Rain’s a-Gonna Fall.”
Countries and territories that are generally considered as constituents of the Western world (dark blue); Countries and territories whose inclusion as constituents of the Western world is contested (light blue) source
What is the West? Many take the idea for granted, but few can define it. In this meticulously researched, engaging, and sometimes bewildering new book, The West: The History of an Idea, intellectual historian Georgios Varouxakis takes readers on a two-centuries-long tour of the many uses, definitions, and redefinitions of the term. Along the way, readers may find their own long-held assumptions and stereotypes challenged and even undermined.
The book makes a number of arguments, but for the purposes of this review, it’s worth focusing on just a few major ones. The first and most innovative argument of the book is this: The idea of the West as a transnational sociopolitical community distinct from the rest of the world is more recent than we think. This idea received its first sophisticated and coherent articulation in the 1820s from French philosopher Auguste Comte.
While historians and other academics had long looked to past societies like ancient Athens or medieval Europe as representing the “West” against some “other,” Comte was the first to coherently put together a future-oriented political program to be adopted and followed. Most scholars locate the future-focused version of the West’s inauguration in the 1890s, when the idea was used to justify imperial and colonial expansion. By contrast, Varouxakis argues that Comte and his followers wanted to build a West that was anti-imperialist, committed to science and reason, liberated from dogmatic Christianity, and fueled by altruism and sympathy.
As a progressive positivist, Comte saw the “Western Republic” as a via media between a hyper nationalism (of the French variety) and an overly abstract universalism. He imagined a way station that transcended the parochialism of family and nation and would one day be realized and embraced all over the world, even if it would take a full seven centuries from his own writing to come to fruition (that was Comte’s timeline). Neither tied to a particular nation like France (although Paris would be the center of this Republic until Constantinople would replace it), nor embodied by an abstract and universal cosmopolitanism, the Western Republic (or l’Occident) would be set off against its Other—in particular, Russia and the Orient. Still, over time this republic would non-coercively welcome the rest of the world into its fold.
Contrary to a common conception of “the West,” it was not to be a society (or society of societies) committed to democracy, individualism, or liberalism. It was instead a rejection of the hyper-individualism of the modern period, and it was an attempt to recover an older other-centered ethic that had been lost to a prior age.
The second major argument Varouxakis presents is that despite this idea of a transnational West that had its origin in Comte’s work, and despite Comte’s legacy that his disciples clearly carried across continents and centuries, the history of the idea of the West since Comte is complicated and contested. Put another way, while the specter of Comte hovers over the entire narrative, his vision is not always fully realized, nor is the meaning of the term always stable. This complicated history manifests itself in a number of different ways and carries with it some significant implications…
… Many casual users of “Western Civilization” will often identify it as one and the same with liberal democracy. They often find that somehow and at some point Britain came to embrace the West as being just that—liberal and democratic. Varouxakis complicates this picture by showing that while a few liberal voices in Britain were certainly also champions of Western Civilization, the more consistent and coherent users of the term were disciples of Comte and therefore much more illiberal in their thinking…
… Or take the more familiar East vs. West framework we associate with the Cold War, where surely the fault lines of Eastern totalitarianism against Western liberal capitalism are clean and clear. But even here the history is complicated, as the period begins with the acknowledgement that it was indeed Soviet Russia that helped to save “western civilization.” Indeed, it took forty years of gradual evolution for the idea of the “West” to finally crystallize around the shared commitment to economic, religious, and political freedom over and against Soviet planned economies, state-sanctioned atheism, and one-party politics with no free and fair elections…
… Given the winding road of the history of the West, it is instructive that there seems to be something of a settlement on its meaning for today, even if there are differences in its application. This can be seen most clearly in Varouxakis’ penultimate chapter on the dispute between Samuel Huntington and Francis Fukuyama after the end of the Cold War. Fukuyama of course is well known for his view that the West—in its embrace of liberal democracy and capitalism—had now emerged triumphant over the defeated ideas of Marxist totalitarianism, which found its fullest expression in Soviet Russia of the East.
Samuel Huntington’s ideas of what the West embodied were not much different, but he diverged from Fukuyama in his vision of what the world’s future likely entailed. For Huntington, the coming years and decades would see a “clash of civilizations,” a conflict of the most basic sort between the West and the great civilizations of the world as we know it. He saw nothing certain about the global triumph of any particular civilizational expression, including the West. Indeed, Huntington contends that it is only the West that even believes in universal ideals, and that all of the non-Western civilizations—whether Chinese, Islamic, or otherwise—are all partial in their visions. Therefore, we see here in the latest debate about the West a return of the Comtean question: Will the West become a universal civilization, or will it endure as one of many civilizations forever in conflict with each other? While we may have some agreement on what the West stands for, we may have less confidence in its future in the world.
The history is complex, indeed. But Varouxakis also raises the question of whether Western Civilization—however one defines it—is something to defend in the first place. He considers this question several times in the book, but perhaps none more poignantly than in the Great War itself. For example, there were many who noted the hypocrisy of the “Western powers” that suddenly found common cause with the long-excluded Russia in their fight against Germany and the Central Powers. But perhaps more troubling is what it says about a civilization when it produces not the peace and altruism long promised by its founder, but instead destruction on a scale that had never been seen before in human history. One could likewise ask: What kind of civilization deliberately excludes and exploits the weakest members within its borders, such as in the treatment of African Americans in the United States and of those in the furthest regions of the colonial empires of Europe? This crisis of confidence and feeling of decline continued through the interwar years, as Oswald Spengler expresses in his Decline of the West, a fitting rejoinder to the optimism of Comte’s Western utopia.
And so, perhaps the best way to conclude for readers of all sorts—but especially Christians—is to offer two words of caution. The first is to those who would defend the “West” and “Western Civilization” as something either resonant with or even inspired by a Judeo-Christian worldview. And that word is simple: the origins of the idea of the West in one of its most dominant forms (the Comtean one) and in its subsequent historical uses is either non-Christian or even anti-Christian. Indeed, I went into the book expecting a heavy dose of Judeo-Christian connections to the idea of the West, and while the link is not completely absent, I was struck by its muted nature.
Besides the post-Christian progressive vision of Comte himself, consider the voice of Black writer Richard Wright as one representative example to follow in the Frenchman’s footsteps. As someone who identified with the West, he considered “the content of [his] Westernness [residing] fundamentally…in [his] secular outlook upon life.” The progress of the West would be realized the more it emancipated itself from the influence of “mystical powers” or the priests who would speak in their name. Armed with the tools of trial-and-error pragmatism, human life can be sustained without recourse to divine help. A West liberated from divine help is a West worth preserving, at least according to Wright.
Overall, the West as an idea has many champions who are quite open in their antipathy toward the Christian religion, and it would be foolish to ignore those influences on the meaning and use of the term for us today. Still, the second and final note I’d like to offer is a bit more optimistic. In the concluding chapter, Varouxakis urges readers to move from the parochialism of “Western” ideas to adopt a language that is universal in its appeal. What, after all, was so attractive about any of the Western projects that Varouxakis so painstakingly chronicles? It was always their global appeal.
Altruism, sympathy, love for others, freedom, individualism, democracy, capitalism. These are not ideals that belong to just a few but rightfully can be embraced by all of God’s creatures in different places, at different times, and in different ways. Certainly for Christians who embrace a global faith, the least we can do is see the inheritance of the “West,” however defined, as a mixed bag of common grace insights and ideas in rebellion against God, combined with the perspective that none of what is worth keeping in the West should ever be kept from those who would embrace its ideals…
As we ponder perplexingly plastic paradigms, we might recall that it was on this date in 1957 that “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On” by Jerry Lee Lewis peaked at #3 on the US pop singles charts (though it topped the R&B and country charts shortly after). It was a cover of a 1955 release by Big Maybelle of a song written by Dave “Curlee” Williams (and sometimes also credited to James Faye “Roy” Hall). Lewis, with session drummer Jimmy Van Eaton and guitarist Roland Janes, had recorded the song at Sun Records in just one take.
Apposite to yesterday’s post, a provocative piece by Ben Ansell, who is reacting to a [terrific] piece by Henry Farrell in which Farrell, as he contemplates Trump’s moves, unpacks the “coordination” problems facing– and, Farrell suggests, often limiting– autocratic rulers…
… But you will notice an assumption I and Henry have been making – that Trump is like any other authoritarian leader. I suspect that in lots of ways Trump does wish to behave like one – certainly the treatment of Kilmar Abrego Garcia and his current refusal to follow court judgments meets that mark.
But Trump is attempting this in an otherwise democratic system and I think there is a risk that we overstate the degree to which that system has already deteriorated by assuming that the language and logic that we use to describe authoritarianism fits his case. Part of the risk is we give up on democracy while it’s still here. But the other danger is that we think Trump behaves like a rational authoritarian leader, a la Svolik, when it’s all just bluntly a lot dumber than that…
… In an earlier post I referred to Donald Trump as a ‘chaotic authoritarian’. I don’t think it’s implausible that a democracy could have such a figure as a leader, though I do think it’s unlikely that it would remain democratic indefinitely under such leadership.
But in the absence of already having subverted elections, stymied courts, shut down the media, banned opponents and the other types of effective institutional backsliding that are the tell-tale signs of a democracy dying, I think we might do better to think about how such a figure operates in, what for now, is a democracy.
The temptation when talking about dictators is to reach for Thomas Hobbes. We depict them as the Leviathan – imposing order on the body politic to prevent chaos but also any rivals. Hobbes’ vision was after all a painstaking justification for monarchical absolutism.
If you are not familiar with Leviathan, well do read it, it’s a banger. But the very basic gist is a theory of government built from the ground up. Hobbes even starts with a slightly rococo account of how we process sensations. But his core mechanism is to imagine a world without government – his famous state of nature – in which every individual was essentially on their own. A self-help system if you will, but not the kind in the woo-woo psychology section of the bookstore – the kind where if you don’t look after number one, you’ll get an axe in the back of the head.
The Hobbesian state of nature is anarchy and life in it is – say it with me – ‘solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short’. And so anyone living in this state would seek to escape this ceaseless terror and have some entity that could guarantee security. Hobbes is a social contract theorist, and the contract upon which we could all be presumed to agree is a third party that can ruthlessly crush insecurity. An absolute sovereign power that would protect its subjects…
… The Hobbesian vision of the state is draconian of course and in… err… pretty sharp contrast with the social contract theories of John Locke or Jean Jacques Rousseau. But one way it has come down to us is in how we think about authoritanism. As about order and control, crushing dissent mercilessly, but also preventing anarchy, rebellion, and so forth. It is governing with an iron fist. Rational authoritarianism if you will.
Whatever Trump is trying to achieve, it’s not hitting this mark. Instead of authoritarianism containing chaos, it is chaos personified. Instead of quelling the anarchic state of nature, it is spreading anarchy and confusion. Hobbes’ frontispiece Leviathan is a steady ruler, holding sword and staff, made up out of their ordered subjects [In contrast to the disintegrating beast in the illustation above]…
… Hence, it’s not clear to me that the standard tools we use to think about authoritarianism accordingly make that much sense with Trump. Is he really thinking about how to coordinate among the elites to keep his support base? Because he’s not doing a brilliant job here having already lost the support of the Wall Street journal editorial board, a litany of very conservative judges, and increasingly corporate elites…
… what I find most interesting about Trump’s anti-Leviathan is that his rule is creating anarchy everywhere else too. And that means not only are his promises not credible but nor are his threats…
[Ansell reviews Trumps’ attack on universities, his approach to tariffs, and trade policy, his “crackdown” on immigration, and his foreign policy (or lack thereof)…]
… We will spend a lot of time over the next few years trying to figure out if Trump’s America remains a democracy. Already the main indices we use are starting to downgrade the USA. I struggle as to whether that coding is premature or not – we will of course know much more by the midterms about the stability and freedom of elections, though by then it could be too late.
It is very clear that Trump wishes to act as an authoritarian. But it is not yet obvious to me that analysing him using the logic of dictatorship makes sense. Because he lacks the control, the ruthlessness, and the rationality of normal authoritarian leaders. As Henry says in his post, ‘absolute power can be a terrible weakness.’ True. However, for many – perhaps most – dictators, absolute power is a terrible (in the original sense of that word) strength. Think to the horrors of the twentieth century.
That, however, is not Donald Trump. He may be the master of chaos. But he is not the Leviathan…
* “Power doesn’t always corrupt. Power always reveals. When you have enough power to do what you always wanted to do, then you see what the guy always wanted to do.” – Robert Caro (riffing on Lord Acton: “Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely”) Or as David Brin put it: “it is said that power corrupts, but actually it’s more true that power attracts the corruptible.”
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As we rein in reigns, we might recall that it was on this date in 1945 that Hermann Göring, head of the Luftwaffe and Adolf Hitler’s designated successor as leader of Nazi Germany, wired the Führer asking permission to assume leadership of the crumbling regime. The telegram caused an infuriated Hitler to strip Göring of power and to appoint new successors, Joseph Goebbels and Karl Dönitz, as chancellor and head of state, respectively.
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