I confess I was surprised when an old friend, who had spent time in the US as a senior diplomat closely observing Donald Trump, described the then president to me simply and chillingly as a “fascist”.
The term had often been bandied around by the left as an insult, its currency somewhat debased by over-use. My interlocutor was, however, serious, sober and precise; the threat from this man was very real, and justifiably comparable to that of a movement which in the 20th century had plunged the world into cataclysmic war.
The argument about Trump’s “fascist” nature had been largely confined to academe until journalist Bob Woodward recently broke the taboo in his new book, revealing that Gen Mark Milley, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff from 2019 to 2023, had bluntly warned that “no one has ever been as dangerous to this country as Donald Trump. Now I realise he’s a total fascist. He is the most dangerous person to this country.”
Kamala Harris has now justified the use of the term, endorsing a claim by Trump’s own longest-serving chief of staff, John Kelly, in the New York Times that Trump “met the definition of a fascist, would govern like a dictator if allowed, and had no understanding of the constitution or the concept of rule of law”.
What matters most about the “f” word use is not the precise historical accuracy of the comparison but the nature of the threat – what he would do, or intend to do, in a second term. It remains unclear, however, whether the charge, no matter how authoritative, will affect voters’ intentions.
The New York Times’s Shawn McCreesh warns that Trump supporters “are happy to vote for him because they simply do not believe he will do many of the things he says he will.” The Atlantic’s Salena Zito argued in 2016 that “the press takes him literally, but not seriously; his supporters take him seriously, but not literally”. But, Democratic analyst Micheal Podhortzer reflects, voters are in danger of “sleepwalking into fascism ... the most alarming thing right now is that America is insufficiently alarmed given what we know a second Trump Administration would mean”.
Trump’s rhetoric is best interpreted both seriously and literally. His rhetoric and practice owe much to the fascist movement – the nativism, the scapegoating of immigrants and foreigners, the blatant lies, the demonisation of ruling elites and of a “deep state conspiracy”, the labelling and, if possible, prosecution of political rivals as the “enemy within”, the willingness to contemplate and even encourage the use of violence – street thugs or unleashed police forces – against dissent and state institutions. Racism, misogyny and the open cynicism about democratic institutions and praise of like-minded authoritarians internationally – the Orbans, Erdogans, Putins – are all essential parts of the package.
[ Fintan O’Toole: Trial runs for fascism are in full flowOpens in new window ]
This is no exaggeration. On October 13th, Trump promised to prioritise the prosecution of US citizens – “domestic threats more dangerous than China, Russia and all these countries”. “We have some very bad people,” he warned. “We have some sick people, radical left lunatics. And I think they’re the big – and it should be very easily handled by, if necessary, by National Guard, or if really necessary, by the military ...”
In a July 2023 Truth Social post, his language was apocalyptic: “This is the final battle. With you at my side, we will demolish the deep state. We will expel the warmongers from our government, we will drive out the globalists, we will cast out the communists, we will throw off the sick political class that hates us, we will rout the fake news media and we will liberate America from these villains once and for all.”
He has spoken of mass forced deportations of illegal immigrants, and the mass sacking of “disloyal” public officials, elaborated by supporters in Project 2025, although unconvincingly denied by Trump.
Some backers say Trump doesn’t really mean it, others that he means it but would be again constrained by the “guardrails” in the system, constitutional and administrative impediments, and the unwillingness of those surrounding him to carry out his most egregious orders. Even his own appointees such as VP Mike Pence and reluctant attorneys general, and his appointees to the Supreme Court, sometimes baulked.
But Trump has made clear his frustration and that he will be more selective, with only those passing a loyalty test permitted to serve. And that very Supreme Court has outrageously ruled that he may claim immunity from some acts undertaken as president.
Those formal and informal guardrails are testimony to the constitutional robustness of the US political system, unlike those in Turkey, Russia and Hungary, even in the face of a rogue president. But will they survive a second term?
Trump, a fascist? Certainly a wannabe fascist. US history provides other precedents, most notably from the 1840s-50s in the nativist, virulently anti-immigrant and anti-Irish-Catholic movement, the “Americans must rule America” Know Nothings. They were also not averse to violence against those they believed to be a threat. Like Trump’s own fondness for tactical distancing from embarrassing allies, the Know Nothings were so-named because members were supposed to deny the group’s very existence if challenged. In a recent post – appropriately – Trump lied, “I know nothing about Project 2025. I have no idea who is behind it. I disagree with some of the things they’re saying ... Anything they do, I wish them luck, but I have nothing to do with them.”
First Republican president Abe Lincoln’s perspective on the Know Nothings seems apposite. If they won, Lincoln wrote, he would emigrate “to some country where they make no pretence of loving liberty – to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocrisy”. Harris should sign him up.
Patrick Smyth is a former Washington Correspondent of The Irish Times