I noticed some years ago that the new far right was obsessed with fantasy scenarios of imaginary and extreme evil. FEMA death camps, “great replacement theory,” the “Great Reset,” fifteen-minute cities, 5G towers being beacons of mind control, and microchips installed in people through vaccines. In India, they have this theory called the Romeo jihad: that Muslim men are seducing Hindu girls and converting them to Islam, thus waging a sort of demographic war. Or take QAnon’s fantasies of satanist, communist pedophiles running the world. They are really enthralled and obsessed by hallucinatory scenarios of extreme disaster.
Why is this? There’s no shortage of real disasters: wildfires, floods, wars, recessions, and pandemics. Yet quite often they have denialist relationships with these disasters. Many say COVID-19 was just an excuse for the Fourth Reich, or that climate change is an excuse for a liberal totalitarian regime, a new form of communism, etc.
Right-wingers are really enthralled and obsessed by hallucinatory scenarios of extreme disaster.
I often take the example of the wildfires in Oregon. The fires ripped across the plains and through the forest and burned at 800 degrees Celsius. They were a real threat to people’s lives. But a lot of people refused to leave because they heard that it was actually Antifa setting the blazes and that it was part of a seditious conspiracy to wipe out white conservative Christians. So, rather than flee for their lives, they set up armed checkpoints and pointed their guns at people, claiming that they were on the lookout for Antifa.
Why do they go for this mass apocalyptic fantasy? Because it processes disaster in a way that is actually quite enlivening. Most of the time, when people go through disasters, it results in depression and withdrawing a bit from life and the public sphere. But the far right offers you a different way out. It says “those demons in your head that you’ve been wrestling with, they’re actually real and you can kill them. The problem is not anything difficult, or abstract or systemic, it’s just bad people, and we’re going to get them.” It takes all the difficult emotions that people deal with in the face of economic shocks and climate change and gives them an outlet that feels valid and validating.
Culture wars
Grindr is full of profiles with caveats about what the user is seeking. They can be typical, harmless details (e.g., “looking for guys between 30–40,” “prefer men who like the outdoors”) but also problematic (e.g., “no fat,” “no fem,” “white only”). I initially assumed my “No Republicans” addition would be a vetting tool, letting conservative men know we’re not a match.
[…]
I’ve been told, more than once, “By shutting out all Republicans, you’re shutting out 50 percent of people.” Never mind that Republicans account for just 30 percent of the population; I typically respond that I’m not someone who shuts out of my life everyone with different political beliefs. The difference here is I’m not looking to date, say, my conservative uncle. (It’s also worth noting that the Venn diagram of men who tell me “No Republicans” is discriminatory and men who have problematic profile standards like “No one fat or over 45” is dangerously close to a circle.)
[…]
Many are also outwardly conservative and publicly homophobic, actively working against LGBTQ+ rights. The anonymity Grindr provides seems to make it easy for these men to compartmentalize—I’ve sadly heard multiple versions of “I’m not a faggot; I just like having sex with men sometimes.” These are the men that I try to have some empathy for, but frankly, they piss me off the most. […] When I relay these anecdotes, my straight friends and colleagues are always surprised, which surprises me, as there’s ample evidence—Randy McNally, Aaron Schock, Roy Cohn—of this particular form of hypocrisy.
As political scientist Jacob Grumbach describes, concentrated partisan power, which has built up over the past 30 years and is approaching an apex, means that the states, once hailed by Justice Louis Brandeis as laboratories of democracy, are increasingly turning into laboratories for partisan advantage. And this has stirred the latent potential for rising interstate aggression and conflict, with states governed by Republicans in particular adopting policies and practices expressly designed to impose their power and policy preferences on unwilling citizens, officials, businesses, and states beyond their borders.
To be fair, blue states have also used policy to drive national standards. For decades, conservatives have fretted that California’s emissions and environmental standards stand in for the nation, since it may be too expensive to make one product to meet California’s strict requirements and another for Nebraska’s. Yet our review of state actions in recent years suggests that red states are more determined on this front, and more effective from the perspective of achieving their objectives.
In our view, effective responses to the increasingly ambitious red-state aggression hinge on two critical objectives. The first is to win (or at least not lose) the policy battles around which these conflicts are arising, vindicating the power of blue-state voters to determine their own destinies. The second is to contain the conflicts between states sufficiently to avoid a conflagration. You could say that these objectives draw from two doctrines, one from recent legal theory and practice, and one from common negotiating strategy: constitutional hardball and deterrence.
In the face of red-state aggression, we think it’s time for blue states to embrace their governing majorities as affirmative sources of power—and began to exercise those powers more fully, more effectively, and with greater coordination.
Many have argued that the United States’ two major political parties have experienced “asymmetric polarization” in recent decades: The Republican Party has moved significantly further to the right than the Democratic Party has moved to the left. The practice of constiÂtutional hardball, this Essay argues, has followed a similar—and causally related—trajectory. Since at least the mid-1990s, Republican officeÂholders have been more likely than their Democratic counterparts to push the constitutional envelope, straining unwritten norms of govÂernance or disrupting established constitutional understandings. Both sides have done these things. But contrary to the apparent assumption of some legal scholars, they have not done so with the same frequency or intensity.
Wait. "The Democratic Party has moved to the left"? When did this happen? Do you mean the Civil Rights Act?
This is one of the most enlightening things I've read recently, but sadly it's paywalled.
In the US, mask wearing, while opposed and evaded by people all over the political spectrum (albeit not equally), was disproportionately associated with reactionary political affiliation, especially in its most demagogic and violent forms. Anti-mask demagoguery associated mask wearing and mask mandates with communism, Nazism, satanism, genocide, suicide and a war on America. This article argues that this demagoguery was not unique to masks or COVID-19, but the rhetorical consequence of the pro-GOP strategic repurposing of twentieth-century anti-communist demagoguery. This demagoguery (which arose after World War I) framed all policy disagreements, not as issues with multiple legitimate perspectives that could be argued qua policies, but as battles in an apocalyptic war between good and evil, and therefore beyond normal political disagreement.
Plenty of arch invective here worthy of a Taibbi Vampire Squid Award:
It would be foolish and exhausting to speculate on the role that Times editor-in-chief Joseph Kahn (Harvard '87, Harvard M.A. '90) played in pushing this story; there is nothing to do but speculate, there. Power works in different ways, and if Ackman–style public meltdowns are the loudest and most overt expression of that work, and Rufo's store-brand Rasputin act are the most obviously motivated, they are not the only ones. There is also the Times' understanding of itself as the author of the discourse, and all that ostentatious invisibility—the decisions about what is and is not a story, or what is and is not up for debate, that only show up in the negative.
You already know how that works; we are soaking in it. Someone at the institution decides that there is or ought to be, say, a debate about the safety or advisability of trans health care where no such debate actually exists, and then the debate is manufactured to suit that sense—in and through stories about that debate. And then, at some point down the line, some laws are promulgated that reflect that debate's terms.
When Ohio Gov. Mike DeWine banned trans health care in his state last week, he did not do it by signing a heavy-handed law passed through his state's legislature. He vetoed that, and then effectively did the same thing in a way that reflected all the deep and vexing complexities and risks that the Times has repeatedly insisted exist. He mandated a process that would force people seeking that care to navigate a series of onerous administrative requirements, and to compel the services of an endocrinologist, and a bioethicist, and a mental health specialist—to make sure that care is not given too fast. "It needs to be lengthy," DeWine said of the counseling component, "and it needs to be comprehensive."
So what begins as irresponsible, ideological, but plausibly deniable discourse shows up down the line as policy. It's rarely quite as easy to see as it is in this instance, when irresponsible, ideological, plausibly deniable discourse is the policy. The debate can only ever continue; the resolution will arrive without any visible fingerprints, as a story about something that just happened.
Maybe the clearest sign, the clearest admission that all of this was part of the conservative push to attack education and build the muscles and power to limit academic institutions came from one of the architects of the plan himself. Chris Rufo is already known for working with Ron DeSantis to attack the New College in Florida, driving away numerous LBGT students, and making the school a far more conservative and repressive institution. On December 19th Rufo publicly tweeted out, “We launched the Claudine Gay plagiarism story from the Right. The next step is to smuggle it into the media apparatus of the Left, legitimizing the narrative to center-left actors who have the power to topple her. Then squeeze.” And his plan worked. He is now openly bragging about it not just on social media, but in the Wall Street Journal.
Just like Ackman, Rufo is no longer even pretending that this is about antisemitism, protecting Jews, plagiarism, or anything else with any merit. Ackman calls it attacking diversity at these institutions, Rufo calls it winning the culture war, and yet numerous major publications immediately went with the framing that these men really care about academic integrity, Jewish students, and seemingly whatever else these cynical and bad-faith actors wanted them to say.