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| From a piece first published in Harper's in 1964 |
I like to celebrate July 4, Independence Day, by reading ( or most often re-reading) a great work in American history. This year, I re-read Richard Hofstader's essay "The Paranoid Style in American Politics." Now whatever might have led me to choose this particular essay for this time, you might ask--if you've been living in a cave far from any inkling about contemporary American politics. And note the original publication date: 1964. This date might not mean much to you, but for me, it marked the start of a political coming of age story. In that year, my father, a life-long Republican party loyalist got in the midst of the battle for the soul of the Republican Party. He was a "moderate" Republican in the year when Barry Goldwater and his more radical (so-called "conservative") supporters sought to gain the Republican presidential nomination and take over the party. My dad took a leave from his regular job (in a public opinion research firm) to work for the campaign of Gov. William Scranton (R-PA), who became the leading moderate candidate after the collapse of Gov. Nelson Rockefeller's campaign for the nomination. As a result of his position with the Scanton campaign, my dad went to San Francisco to the Republican National Convention, and he took my mom and I with him. My mom had lived and worked in San Francisco during and after the war before returning to her small hometown in Iowa to marry and raise four kids, thus, this was a great treat for a wife and mother. And me? As the oldest of their four kids, it was really a part of an ongoing apprenticeship in politics. And, in the course of the education, I learned a bit about Goldwater, Phyllis Shafley (Not a Choice But an Echo), and John Stormer's None Dare Call It Treason. Not that I read these books (I was neither that nerdy nor that bright), but I had a sense of how whacky these folks were. Yet, in the spirit of full disclosure, I must inform you that my dad, as a loyal Republican, worked on behalf of the Republican ticket that year in which LBJ crushed Goldwater. (Goldwater only carried his home state of Arizona and the Deep South.) I, as the young apprentice, debated on behalf of the right-wing Goldwater against a classmate for a mock election in my 6th-grade class. LBJ crushed Goldwater in our mock election even worse than in the national popular vote--in a town and county that Goldwater carried! An inauspicious start to my career in advocacy, to say the least. In sum, it's all very personal.
But to return to the point, Hofstader's essay is not just informative, but it takes me back and allows me to appreciate the fact that the "paranoid style in American politics" is nothing new, although now it has now developed into an acute, life-threatening variant. Can we learn something from the foray into American history? Indeed we can.
(N.B. I will quote liberally from Hofstadter's essay: he makes his case better than I can explain it, and given that most readers won't go read the entire original, you can at least get the Cliff Notes version here (with more quotes that Cliff Notes can print).
Hofstader opens his essay with these terms and observations:
Behind such movements [referring to the "far right wing" in 1964] there is a style of mind, not always right-wing in its affiliations, that has a long and varied history. I call it the paranoid style simply because no other word adequately evokes the qualities of heated exaggeration, suspiciousness, and conspiratorial fantasy that I have in mind. . . It is the use of paranoid modes of expression by more or less normal people that makes the phenomenon significant. . . .In the paranoid style, as I conceive it, the feeling of persecution is central, and it is indeed systematized in grandiose theories of conspiracy.
I trust that from these three opening quotes you can appreciate the reason that I find this topic and this essay so pertinent to today. In short, what we're experiencing currently isn't so unique, though I have to say that the threat from the paranoid right is much greater then it was even then.
[T]here is a vital difference between the paranoid spokesman in politics and the clinical paranoiac: although they both tend to be overheated, oversuspicious, overaggressive, grandiose, and apocalyptic in expression, the clinical paranoid sees the hostile and conspiratorial world in which he feels himself to be living as directed specifically against him; whereas the spokesman of the paranoid style finds it directed against a nation, a culture, a way of life whose fate affects not himself alone but millions of others. (Location 58)Style has to do with the way in which ideas are believed and advocated rather than with the truth or falsity of their content. (Location 68) [Emphasis added.][T]he paranoid style has had a consummatory triumph [that] occurred not in the United States but in Germany. It is a common ingredient of fascism, and of frustrated nationalisms, though it appeals to many who are hardly fascists and it can frequently be seen in the left-wing press. The famous Stalin purge trials incorporated, in a supposedly juridical form, a wildly imaginative and devastating exercise in the paranoid style.(Location 94)Thus, regardless of its place on the political spectrum from left to right (if we choose to use this popular but limited metaphor), the paranoid style can emerge. Again, it's not a set of beliefs so much as a style.
A distorted style is, then, a possible signal that may alert us to a distorted judgment, just as in art an ugly style is a cue to fundamental defects of taste. What interests me here is the possibility of using political rhetoric to get at political pathology. One of the most impressive facts about the paranoid style, in this connection, is that it represents an old and recurrent mode of expression in our public life which has frequently been linked with movements of suspicious discontent and whose content remains much the same even when it is adopted by men of distinctly different purposes. (Location 83) [Emphasis added.]As I emphasized in the quote, Hofstadter finds the "political pathology" revealed in the "political rhetoric." In the course of the essay, Hofstader will range widely over the history of the Republic to identify and explore instances of this pathology. Without directly saying so, Hofstadter demonstrates the old adage that history never repeats itself, but it often rhymes. Or in the words of the Bible, there's nothing new under the sun. ("The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun. Is there any thing whereof it may be said, See, this is new? it hath been already of old time, which was before us." Eclessiastes 1:9-10 (KJV).) This is why we read history: not out of mere curiosity, but out of a need to understand ourselves; for self-knowledge, collectively and individually.
The following quote, drawing upon the insights of his American contemporary, the sociologist Daniel Bell, captures the essence of what we're seeing today from the radical right:
But the modern right wing, as Daniel Bell has put it, feels dispossessed: America has been largely taken away from them and their kind, though they are determined to try to repossess it and to prevent the final destructive act of subversion. The old American virtues have already been eaten away by cosmopolitans and intellectuals; the old competitive capitalism has been gradually undermined by socialist and communist schemers; the old national security and independence have been destroyed by treasonous plots, having as their most powerful agents not merely outsiders and foreigners but major statesmen seated at the very centers of American power. Their predecessors discovered foreign conspiracies; the modern radical right finds that conspiracy also embraces betrayal at home. (Location 320) Hofstadter goes on:
For the vaguely delineated villains of the anti-Masons, for the obscure and disguised Jesuit agents, the little-known papal delegates of the anti-Catholics, for the shadowy international bankers of the monetary conspiracies, we may now substitute eminent public figures like Presidents Roosevelt, Truman, and Eisenhower, Secretaries of State like Marshall, Acheson, and Dulles, justices of the Supreme Court like Frankfurter and Warren, and the whole battery of lesser but still famous and vivid conspirators headed by Alger Hiss. (Location 329)Of course, the choice item in this list is Alger Hiss, whom we now know, upon the opening of the Soviet archives, was in a fact an active Soviet agent. In short, Whittaker Chambers and Richard Nixon were actually on to something, which goes to show you (forgive me), but even paranoids have enemies. But as the list above indicates, Joe McCarthy, Robert H. Welch, Jr. and his John Birch Society and their ilk were off their rockers.
After completing a tour of American history with examples of the paranoid style, Hofstadter provides us with a summing-up:
LET US NOW ABSTRACT the basic elements in the paranoid style. The central image is that of a vast and sinister conspiracy, a gigantic and yet subtle machinery of influence set in motion to undermine and destroy a way of life. One may object that there are conspiratorial acts in history, and there is nothing paranoid about taking note of them. This is true. All political behavior requires strategy, many strategic acts depend for their effect upon a period of secrecy, and anything that is secret may be described, often with but little exaggeration, as conspiratorial. The distinguishing thing about the paranoid style is not that its exponents see conspiracies or plots here and there in history, but that they regard a “vast” or “gigantic” conspiracy as the motive force in historical events. History is a conspiracy, set in motion by demonic forces of almost transcendent power, and what is felt to be needed to defeat it is not the usual methods of political give-and-take, but an all-out crusade. The paranoid spokesman sees the fate of this conspiracy in apocalyptic terms—he traffics in the birth and death of whole worlds, whole political orders, whole systems of human values. He is always manning the barricades of civilization. He constantly lives at a turning point: it is now or never in organizing resistance to conspiracy. Time is forever just running out. Like religious millenarians, he expresses the anxiety of those who are living through the last days and he is sometimes disposed to set a date for the apocalypse.
. . . . The apocalypticism of the paranoid style runs dangerously near to hopeless pessimism, but usually stops short of it. Apocalyptic warnings arouse passion and militancy, and strike at susceptibility to similar themes in Christianity. Properly expressed, such warnings serve somewhat the same function as a description of the horrible consequences of sin in a revivalist sermon: they portray that which impends but which may still be avoided. They are a secular and demonic version of adventism. . . . Since what is at stake is always a conflict between absolute good and absolute evil, the quality needed is not a willingness to compromise but the will to fight things out to a finish. Nothing but complete victory will do. Since the enemy is thought of as being totally evil and totally unappeasable, he must be totally eliminated—if not from the world, at least from the theater of operations to which the paranoid directs his attention. This demand for unqualified victories leads to the formulation of hopelessly demanding and unrealistic goals, and since these goals are not even remotely attainable, failure constantly heightens the paranoid’s frustration. Even partial success leaves him with the same sense of powerlessness with which he began, and this in turn only strengthens his awareness of the vast and terrifying quality of the enemy he opposes.This enemy is clearly delineated: he is a perfect model of malice, a kind of amoral superman: sinister, ubiquitous, powerful, cruel, sensual, luxury-loving. Unlike the rest of us, the enemy is not caught in the toils of the vast mechanism of history, himself a victim of his past, his desires, his limitations. He is a free, active, demonic agent. He wills, indeed he manufactures, the mechanism of history himself, or deflects the normal course of history in an evil way. He makes crises, starts runs on banks, causes depressions, manufactures disasters, and then enjoys and profits from the misery he has produced. The paranoid’s interpretation of history is in this sense distinctly personal: decisive events are not taken as part of the stream of history, but as the consequences of someone’s will.
Hofstader goes on the identify the importance of converts who have defected from the side of the enemy--the Free Masons, the Catholics, the Communists, and have converted to the side of righteousness. Hofstadter comments Another recurring aspect of the paranoid style is the special significance that attaches to the figure of the renegade from the enemy cause. The anti-Masonic movement seemed at times to be the creation of ex-Masons; it certainly attached the highest significance and gave the most unqualified credulity to their revelations. Similarly anti-Catholicism used the runaway nun and the apostate priest, anti-Mormonism the ex-wife from the harem of polygamy; the avant-garde anti-Communist movements of our time use the ex-Communist. In some part the special authority accorded the renegade derives from the obsession with secrecy so characteristic of such movements: the renegade is the man or woman who has been in the secret world of the enemy, and brings forth with him or her the final verification of suspicions which might otherwise have been doubted by a skeptical world. But I think there is a deeper eschatological significance attached to the person of the renegade: in the spiritual wrestling match between good and evil which is the paranoid’s archetypal model of the world struggle, the renegade is living proof that all the conversions are not made by the wrong side. He brings with him the promise of redemption and victory. In contemporary right-wing movements a particularly important part has been played by ex-Communists who have moved rapidly, though not without anguish, from the paranoid left to the paranoid right, clinging all the while to the fundamentally Manichean psychology that underlies both.
Thus, for instance, the infatuation of the anti-Communists with someone like Whittaker Chambers and the loathing of his evil doppleganger, Alger Hiss (who really was of the devil's party).
Hofstader next turns to the elaborate "proofs" undertaken by those working in the paranoid style:
One of the impressive things about paranoid literature is precisely the elaborate concern with demonstration it almost invariably shows. One should not be misled by the fantastic conclusions that are so characteristic of this political style into imagining that it is not, so to speak, argued out along factual lines. The very fantastic character of its conclusions leads to heroic strivings for “evidence” to prove that the unbelievable is the only thing that can be believed. Of course, there are highbrow, lowbrow, and middlebrow paranoids, as there are likely to be in any political tendency, and paranoid movements from the Middle Ages onward have had a magnetic attraction for demi-intellectuals [e.g., Steve Bannon]. But respectable paranoid literature not only starts from certain moral commitments that can be justified to many non-paranoids but also carefully and all but obsessively accumulates “evidence.”
. . . .
The typical procedure of the higher paranoid scholarship is to start with such defensible assumptions and with a careful accumulation of facts, or at least of what appear to be facts, and to marshal these facts toward an overwhelming “proof” of the particular conspiracy that is to be established. It is nothing if not coherent—in fact, the paranoid mentality is far more coherent than the real world, since it leaves no room for mistakes, failures, or ambiguities. It is, if not wholly rational, at least intensely rationalistic; it believes that it is up against an enemy who is as infallibly rational as he is totally evil, and it seeks to match his imputed total competence with its own, leaving nothing unexplained and comprehending all of reality in one overreaching, consistent theory. It is nothing if not “scholarly” in technique. McCarthy’s 96-page pamphlet McCarthyism contains no less than 313 footnote references, and Mr. Welch’s fantastic assault on Eisenhower, The Politician, is weighed down by a hundred pages of bibliography and notes. The entire right-wing movement of our time is a parade of experts, study groups, monographs, footnotes, and bibliographies.
. . . .
What distinguishes the paranoid style is not, then, the absence of verifiable facts (though it is occasionally true that in his extravagant passion for facts the paranoid occasionally manufactures them), but rather the curious leap in imagination that is always made at some critical point in the recital of events.
. . . .
What is missing is not veracious information about the organization, but sensible judgment about what can cause a revolution.
. . . .
The singular thing about all this laborious work is that the passion for factual evidence does not, as in most intellectual exchanges, have the effect of putting the paranoid spokesman into effective two-way communication with the world outside his group—least of all with those who doubt his views. He has little real hope that his evidence will convince a hostile world. His effort to amass it has rather the quality of a defensive act which shuts off his receptive apparatus and protects him from having to attend to disturbing considerations that do not fortify his ideas. He has all the evidence he needs; he is not a receiver, he is a transmitter.
What triggers the paranoid style. Hofstadter weighs this question and ventures an answer after having noted Norman Cohen's The Pursuit of the Millenium, which documents extreme religious and political movements in medieval times:
The recurrence of the paranoid style over a long span of time and in different places suggests that a mentality disposed to see the world in the paranoid’s way may always be present in some considerable minority of the population. But the fact that movements employing the paranoid style are not constant but come in successive episodic waves suggests that the paranoid disposition is mobilized into action chiefly by social conflicts that involve ultimate schemes of values and that bring fundamental fears and hatreds, rather than negotiable interests, into political action. Catastrophe or the fear of catastrophe is most likely to elicit the syndrome of paranoid rhetoric. (Location 522) . . . .
