Vladimir Putin. Narendra Modi. Viktor Orbán. Rodrigo Duterte. Xi Jinping. Recep Tayyin Erdğan. Abe Shinzō. Jair Bolsonaro. Alexander Lukashenko. And yes, Donald Trump.
These men represent a turn away from democracy and toward neo-fascist authoritarianism. In some of these cases, dictatorship has already been accomplished; in others, it has been just an aspiration — so far.
We typically think of the dictator’s rise to power as the consequence of an illegal coup or military takeover. But many of these men are elected authoritarians, chosen by their own people to lead. Why?
One of the authoritarian’s most potent mechanisms for attracting popular support is nostalgia. Fascism is built on torturously contrived historical narratives of a nation’s origins that foster a sense of victimhood, resentment, and grievance. It posits a glorious history of cultural, military, and political accomplishment, later desecrated by outsiders and traitorous neighbors.
Voters entrust the dictator with restoring that legacy, to make Nation X “great again.” Putin’s claims that Ukraine has always been part of the Russian empire, Modi’s invocation of a gloriously pure Hindu past, Orbán’s allegations that immigrants defile Hungary’s Christian heritage, Bolsonaro’s infatuation with the fascist Vargas regime, Abe’s proactive concealment of Japan’s imperialist aggression, and Trump’s inchoate (and racist) vision of American greatness appeal to followers who tolerate the dismantling of democratic norms and violent suppression of dissent to restore imagined historical magnificence.
By enabling authoritarians’ abominable ambitions, in politics nostalgia has proven to be a noxious sentiment that does violence to both past and present.
