The roots of the United States’ current descent into madness can be traced back to a series of unresolved catastrophic traumas Americans experienced during the Bush administration. In just eight years, they suffered a collective loss of confidence in their leadership, in the ability of government to perform its most basic functions, and in the very essence of the American dream.
When George W Bush was elected in 2000, the electoral process itself had been confidence shattering. Having been brought up to believe in the inviolability of their democratic process, Americans were exposed to “how the sausage was made”, and it caused great discomfort. Nevertheless, they moved on because the country was doing well both economically and politically. America had demonstrated its uncontested world leadership, winning two relatively quick wars: liberating Kuwait and bringing peace to Bosnia.
Then came the devastating blow of September 11, 2001. The fateful decisions taken by the Bush administration in response to that attack only prolonged and ultimately deepened the trauma of the terrorist attacks. They misled the country into two wars, telling Americans that victory would be “quick and clean” and certain. Five years later, with thousands of American lives lost, a trillion dollars spent, growing anti-American sentiment worldwide, and both wars far from over, Americans had lost confidence in their sense of world leadership.
While Mr Bush was given credit for saying “Islam is a religion of peace” and cautioning Americans not to target Arab and Muslim citizens, his Justice Department undercut that message by instituting practices that profiled both communities. Mass round-ups, inflammatory media conferences, and the frequent abuse of heightened alerts created fear and fostered suspicions about the enemy within.
Then Hurricane Katrina hit. Even small-government conservatives expect that the government will perform well in time of tragedy. The administration’s delayed response and the bungling that followed Katrina only served to deepen the public’s loss of confidence in the ability of government to act.
The final blow came in the Bush administration’s waning days in the form of a deep and, for a time, growing economic recession that shook the foundations of the financial system. Within months, major banks and manufacturers were on the verge of bankruptcy, average Americans lost 20 to 30 per cent from their pension plans, unemployment doubled and one in five homeowners were threatened with foreclosure.
Polls that, throughout the 1990, showed two-thirds of Americans were confident in their economic future were suddenly reversed. Now, two-thirds were saying that the country was on the “wrong track” and that they no longer believed their children would be better off.
This was the setting for Barack Obama’s victory in 2008, the most remarkable aspect of which was that it was based on the triumph of hope over fear coupled with a call to look forward to better days. In periods of collective trauma, the more typical reaction is for movements to emerge that prey off fear and social dislocation and to appeal to the values of a romanticised past. This time was different, but it only lasted for a short while. No sooner had Mr Obama won than the Republican Party began plotting his demise. They did everything they could to block his agenda in Congress, they funded and provided logistical support for the Tea Party, and they gave a wink and a nod to the “birther” movement. Republicans exploited base fears about the president’s African heritage and his father’s religion.
Polls have consistently established that the Tea Party and birthers are white, largely middle class and middle aged. They had been disproportionately affected by the economic collapse and felt that the government’s response to the crisis had been to favour the rich and poor minorities – at their expense. They see themselves as victims of a failed government that misled them and let them down. Despite indicators that point to an economic recovery, they remain insecure and are waiting for the “other shoe to drop”.
They are afraid of foreigners, who they blame for their economic decline, the erosion of social cohesion, and the benefits they believe are doled out to immigrants at their expense. They especially blame Muslims for the danger they pose at home and abroad. And they blame the president because they see him as foreign and favouring the interests of minorities and Muslims over their own.
The appeals by the leading candidate for presidential nomination, Donald Trump, and the Republican Party more widely to “make America great again”, to “stop us from losing”, or to “restore our honour” are in response to the still unresolved collective trauma experienced by the same group of voters who comprised the Tea Party. They are the anti-Obama message – appealing to fear and not hope, and looking backward, not forward. Ironically, they are the themes on which Republicans might have based their campaign in 2008, had they not been running to replace one of their own in the Oval Office.
For months now, the pundits and the Republican establishment have dismissed the dangers posed by the likes of Mr Trump, Ben Carson and Ted Cruz. Mr Trump, they said, would be undone by his insults and fabrications; Dr Carson was a fad who would soon fade; and Mr Cruz, because he was so disliked, would go nowhere. Most recent polls, however, show these three garnering between 50 and 60 per cent of the Republican vote. And as their rhetoric becomes harsher, with naked appeals to intolerance and even violence, it is time to wake up. They speak to an entire group’s existential crisis, tap into their deep reservoir of resentment, and elicit violent emotions. These themes and their proponents must be addressed.
Dr James Zogby is the president of the Arab American Institute
On Twitter: @aaiusa