American Fascists

by Chris Hedges

  I owe thanks for vital help and support from Bernard Rapoport and Peter Lewis, as well as Patrick Lannan, Ralph Nader, Jenny Frutchy, Joan Bokaer, Mariah Blake, Cristina Nehring, Ann and Walter Pincus, Lauren B. Davis, June Ballinger, Michael Goldstein, Anne Marie Macari, Robert J. Lifton, Richard Fenn, Fritz Stern, Robert O. Paxton, Charles B. Strozier, Irene Brown, Joe Sacco, Al Ross, the Reverend Mel White, the Reverend Davidson Loehr, the Reverend Ed Bacon, Bishop Krister Stendhal, the Reverend William Sloane Coffin, the Reverend Joe Hough, the Reverend Michael Granzen and the Reverend Terry Burke. The Reverend Coleman Brown, as he has done with all my books, read and critiqued each chapter. Coleman again let me rely on his profound insight and wisdom. As usual, he raised questions and offered critiques that often forced me to reconsider my position or go back to my research. Max Blumenthal, a friend and fine reporter, nursed me through much of this with sage help and advice. I would like to thank Marji Mendelsohn and Janice Weiss for guidance and research, as well as Tamar Gordon, whose advice and scholarship helped me head in the right direction. Tom Artin, as talented a jazz musician as he is a scholar and writer, went through every chapter, as did Eunice Wong, whose brilliance as an actor is matched by her intelligence, critical eye and talent as a writer. There are numerous passages in this book that she patiently reworked. These sections, which bear her imprint and wisdom, have a lucidity and clarity that eluded me. Eunice was my rock and foundation.

  I often leaned for emotional support on my friend John “Rick” MacArthur, who keeps alive Harper’s magazine, one of the great intellectual journals in America, as well as my friend the poet Gerald Stern, who appeared frequently as I was writing to drag me into the sunlight for lunch and impart needed encouragement.

  My editors at Free Press, especially Dominick Anfuso and Wylie O’Sullivan, patiently edited, shaped and formed the text. I would also like to thank Michele Jacob. Lisa Bankoff of International Creative Management held my hand, for the fourth time, through this process of proposal to contract to delivery. She is a gift.

  Also by Chris Hedges

  A profound and provocative examination of America in crisis, where unemployment, deindustrialization, and a bitter hopelessness and malaise have resulted in an epidemic of diseases of despair—drug abuse, gambling, suicide, magical thinking, xenophobia, and a culture of sadism and hate.

  America: The Farewell Tour

  * * *

  "Chris Hedges reminds us that the point of religion is not to make us disdain those who think differently but rather to help us become decent, responsive, and moral human beings." —0, The Oprah Magazine

  When Atheism Becomes Religion

  * * *

  "A grimly factual account of the true face of war . . . that America shies away from in favor of sanitized myths of glory and heroism." —Publishers Weekly

  What Every Person Should Know About War

  * * *

  "Unfailingly well-written, compelling, and disturbing. . . . It's not an easy faith that Hedges describes, and that is the point." —The American Prospect

  Losing Moses on the Freeway

  * * *

  ORDER YOUR COPIES TODAY!

  About the Author

  Chris Hedges, a graduate of Harvard Divinity School, was a foreign correspondent for nearly 20 years. He was the bureau chief in the Middle East and the Balkans, and worked in other foreign posts, for The New York Times from 1990 to 2005. He worked previously for The Dallas Morning News, National Public Radio and The Christian Science Monitor in Latin America and the Middle East. He has reported from more than 50 countries. Hedges was a member of the New York Times team that won the 2002 Pulitzer Prize for Explanatory Reporting for the paper’s coverage of global terrorism, and he received the 2002 Amnesty International Global Award for Human Rights Journalism. He holds a B.A. in English Literature from Colgate University and a Master of Divinity from Harvard Divinity School. Hedges has taught at Columbia University, New York University and Princeton University, where he is currently a Visiting Lecturer in the Council of the Humanities and the Program in American Studies as well as the Anschutz Distinguished Fellow. He has written for Foreign Affairs, Granta, Harper’s, Mother Jones and The New York Review of Books. Hedges is the author of War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning—a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award for Nonfiction. His other books are What Every Person Should Know About War and Losing Moses on the Freeway: The 10 Commandments in America. He lives in New Jersey.

  AMERICAN

  FASCISTS

  THE CHRISTIAN RIGHT AND THE WAR ON AMERICA

  CHRIS HEDGES

  A Conversation with Chris Hedges

  ABOUT THIS Q&A

  The following author question & answer is intended to help you find an interesting and rewarding approach to your reading of American Fascists. We hope this enhances your enjoyment and appreciation of the book.

  A CONVERSATION WITH THE AUTHOR

  The holy blitz rolls on.

  The Christian Right is a “deeply anti-democratic movement” that gains force by exploiting Americans’ fears, argues Chris Hedges. Salon talks with the former New York Times reporter about his fearless new book, American Fascists.

  By Michelle Goldberg

  Jan. 8, 2007. Longtime war correspondent Chris Hedges, the former New York Times bureau chief in the Middle East and the Balkans, knows a lot about the savagery that people are capable of, especially when they’re besotted with dreams of religious or national redemption. In his acclaimed 2002 book, War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning, he wrote: “I have been in ambushes on desolate stretches of Central American roads, shot at in the marshes of Southern Iraq, imprisoned in the Sudan, beaten by Saudi military police, deported from Libya and Iran, captured and held for a week by Iraqi Republican Guard during the Shiite rebellion following the Gulf War, strafed by Russian Mig-21s in Bosnia, fired upon by Serb snipers, and shelled for days in Sarajevo with deafening rounds of heavy artillery that threw out thousands of deadly bits of iron fragments.” Hedges was part of the New York Times team of reporters that won a 2002 Pulitzer Prize for explanatory reporting about global terrorism.

  Given such intimacy with horror, one might expect him to be aloof from the seemingly less urgent cultural disputes that dominate domestic American politics. Yet in the rise of America’s religious right, Hedges senses something akin to the brutal movements he’s spent his life chronicling. The title of his new book speaks for itself: American Fascists: The Christian Right and the War on America. Scores of volumes about the religious right have recently been published (one of them, Kingdom Coming: The Rise of Christian Nationalism, by me), but Hedges’ book is perhaps the most furious and foreboding, all the more so because he knows what fascism looks like.

  Part of his outrage is theological. The son of a Presbyterian minister and a graduate of Harvard Divinity School, Hedges once planned to join the clergy himself. He speaks of the preachers he encountered while researching American Fascists as heretics, and he’s appalled at their desecration of a faith he still cherishes, even if he no longer totally embraces it. Writing of Ohio megachurch pastor Rod Parsley and his close associate, GOP gubernatorial candidate Ken Blackwell, he says, “[T]he heart of the Christian religion, all that is good and compassionate within it, has been tossed aside, ruthlessly gouged out and thrown into a heap with all the other inner organs. Only the shell, the form, remains. Christianity is of no use to Parsley, Blackwell and the others. In its name they kill it.”

  I first met Hedges at last spring’s War on Christians conference in Washington, D.C., where Parsley, a wildly charismatic Pentecostal who loves the language of holy war, electrified the crowd. (“I came to incite a riot!” he shouted. “Man your battle stations! Ready your weapons! Lock and load!”) It was shortly before the publication of my book, and as Hedges and I spoke, we realized we had similar takes on our subject. Both of us relied on Hannah Arendt’s analysis of totalitarian movements in their early stages, and on some of the concepts that h
istorian Robert O. Paxton elucidated in his book The Anatomy of Fascism. But where I, anxious not to be seen as hysterical, tried to treat these ideas gingerly, Hedges is unabashed and unsparing. His rage and contempt for the movement’s leaders, though, is matched by sympathy for its followers, because he understands the despair, the desperate longing for community and even the idealism that often drives them.

  Hedges spoke to me on the phone from his home in New Jersey.

  Let’s start with the title. A lot of liberals who write about the right see echoes of fascism in its rhetoric and organizing, but we tiptoe around it, because we don’t want people to think that we’re comparing James Dobson to Hitler or America to Weimar Germany. You, though, decided to be very bold in your comparisons to fascism.

  You’re right, “fascism” or “fascist” is a terribly loaded word, and it evokes a historical period, primarily that of the Nazis, and to a lesser extent Mussolini. But fascism as an ideology has generic qualities. People like Robert O. Paxton in The Anatomy of Fascism have tried to quantify them. Umberto Eco did it in Five Moral Pieces, and I actually begin the book with an excerpt from Eco: Eternal Fascism: Fourteen Ways of Looking at a Blackshirt. I think there are enough generic qualities that the group within the religious right, known as Christian Reconstructionists or dominionists, warrants the word. Does this mean that this is Nazi Germany? No. Does this mean that this is Mussolini’s Italy? No. Does this mean that this is a deeply anti-democratic movement that would like to impose a totalitarian system? Yes.

  You know, I come out of the church. I not only grew up in the church but graduated from seminary, and I look at this as a mass movement. I give it very little religious legitimacy, especially the extreme wing of it.

  You say they would like to impose a totalitarian system. How much of a conscious goal do you think that is at the upper levels of organizing with, say, somebody like Rod Parsley?

  I think they’re completely conscious of it. The level of manipulation is quite sophisticated. These people understand the medium of television, they understand the despair and brokenness of the people they appeal to, and how to manipulate them both for personal and financial gain. I look at these figures, and I would certainly throw James Dobson in there, or Pat Robertson, as really dark figures.

  I think the vast majority of followers have no idea. There’s an earnestness to many of the believers. I had the same experience you did—I went in there prepared to really dislike these people and most of them just broke my heart. They’re well meaning. Unfortunately, they’re being manipulated and herded into a movement that’s extremely dangerous. If these extreme elements actually manage to achieve power, they will horrify [their followers] in many ways. But that’s true with all revolutionary movements.

  The core of this movement is tiny, but you only need a tiny, disciplined, well-funded and well-organized group, and then you count on the sympathy of 80 million to 100 million evangelicals. And that’s enough. Especially if you don’t have countervailing forces, which we don’t.

  If there’s a historical period that’s analogous to the situation we have now, it would come close to being the 1930s in the United States. Obviously we’re not in a depression, but the situation for the working class is very bleak, and the middle class is under assault. There has been a kind of Weimarization of the American working class, and there’s a terrible instability in the middle class. And if we enter a period of political and social instability, this gives this movement the opportunity it’s been waiting for. But it needs a crisis. All of these movements need a crisis to come to power, and we’re not in a period of crisis.

  How likely do you think a crisis is?

  Very likely. The economy is not in healthy shape. I covered al-Qaida for a year for The New York Times. Every intelligence official I ever interviewed never talked about if, they only talked about when. They spoke about another catastrophic attack as an inevitability. The possibility of entering a period of instability is great, and then these movements become very frightening.

  The difference between the 1930s and now is that we had powerful progressive forces through the labor unions, through an independent and vigorous press. I forget the figure but something like 80 percent of the media is controlled by seven corporations, something horrible like that. Television is just bankrupt. I worry that we don’t have the organized forces within American society to protect our democracy in the way that we did in the 1930s.

  Since the midterm election, many have suggested that the Christian Right has peaked, and the movement has in fact suffered quite a few severe blows since both of our books came out.

  It’s suffered severe blows in the past too. It depends on how you view the engine of the movement. For me, the engine of the movement is deep economic and personal despair. A terrible distortion and deformation of American society, where tens of millions of people in this country feel completely disenfranchised, where their physical communities have been obliterated, whether that’s in the Rust Belt in Ohio or these monstrous exurbs like Orange County, where there is no community. There are no community rituals, no community centers, often there are no sidewalks. People live in empty soulless houses and drive big empty cars on freeways to Los Angeles and sit in vast offices and then come home again. You can’t deform your society to that extent, and you can’t shunt people aside and rip away any kind of safety net, any kind of program that gives them hope, and not expect political consequences.

  Democracies function because the vast majority live relatively stable lives with a degree of hope, and, if not economic prosperity, at least enough of an income to free them from severe want or instability. Whatever the Democrats say now about the war, they’re not addressing the fundamental issues that have given rise to this movement.

  But isn’t there a change in the Democratic Party, now that it’s talking about class issues and economic issues more so than in the past?

  Yes, but how far are they willing to go? The corporations that fund the Republican Party fund them. I don’t hear anybody talking about repealing the bankruptcy bill, just like I don’t hear them talking about torture. The Democrats recognize the problem, but I don’t see anyone offering any kind of solutions that will begin to re-enfranchise people into American society. The fact that they can’t even get healthcare through is pretty depressing.

  The argument you’re now making sounds in some ways like Tom Frank’s, which is basically that support for the religious right represents a kind of misdirected class warfare. But your book struck me differently—it seemed to be much more about what this movement offers people psychologically.

  Yeah, the economic is part of it, but you have large sections of the middle class that are bulwarks within this movement, so obviously the economic part isn’t enough. The reason the catastrophic loss of manufacturing jobs is important is not so much the economic deprivation but the social consequences of that deprivation. The breakdown of community is really at the core here. When people lose job stability, when they work for $16 an hour and don’t have health insurance, and nobody funds their public schools and nobody fixes their infrastructure, that has direct consequences into how the life of their community is led.

  I know firsthand because my family comes from a working-class town in Maine that has suffered exactly this kind of deterioration. You pick up the local paper and the weekly police blotter is just DWIs and domestic violence. We’ve shattered these lives, and it isn’t always economic. That’s where I guess I would differ with Frank. It’s really the destruction of the possibility of community, and of course economic deprivation goes a long way to doing that. But corporate America has done a pretty good job of destroying community too, which is why the largest growth areas are the exurbs, where people have a higher standard of living, but live fairly bleak and empty lives.

  In the beginning of the book, you write briefly about covering wars in Latin America, the Middle East and the Balkans. How did that shape the way you understand these social forces in America?
What similarities do you see?

  When I covered the war in the Balkans, there was always the canard that this was a war about ancient ethnic hatreds that was taken from Robert Kaplan’s Balkan Ghosts. That was not a war about ancient ethnic hatreds. It was a war that was fueled primarily by the economic collapse of Yugoslavia. Milosevic and Tudman, and to a lesser extent Izetbegovic, would not have been possible in a stable Yugoslavia.

  When I first covered Hamas in 1988, it was a very marginal organization with very little power or reach. I watched Hamas grow. Although I came later to the Balkans, I had a good understanding of how Milosevic built his Serbian nationalist movement. These radical movements share a lot of ideological traits with the Christian Right, including that cult of masculinity, that cult of power, rampant nationalism fused with religious chauvinism. I find a lot of parallels.