When I close my eyes at night, if it has been even a worse day than normal, volumes more MAGA venom spewed into the airwaves, more conspiracy, more raving about “scum” and “the enemy within”, more Nuremberg Rally vibes, more threats, then the visions come, the HG Wells stuff transmogrified, updated – concentration camps, dictators taking whatever they like, the end of Ukraine, women tracked during pregnancy, the country entering a dark age overseen by Trump, a demented old man filled to the brim with hatred. I am wearing out the word dread to describe what I feel.
What Philip Roth called the “indigenous American Berserk” has always been present in our national character – in its embrace of slavery, its destruction of native Americans, its Nativist hatred of Catholics and Jews and immigrants, its ongoing No Nothing ism (on the left as well as the right), its flirtation with the Nazis prior to Pearl Harbor and the terrorist example of the Weatherman in the 70’s, but Trump and MAGA are sui generis. Part of what troubles me is my incomprehension as to how close to 50% of the voting age population, 65 to 75 million Americans, can look at him and his movement and say, yes, I want more of that.
Bob Dylan sang, “Because something is happening here/But you don’t know what it is/Do you, Mister Jones?
I can see what is happening, but I do not know why. In 22 days, we’ll find out how far half of this country is willing to go in smashing it all to pieces. I have no answers.
