Hitler Archives - Patricia Roberts-Miller

Liberalism and appeasing Hitler

Prime Minister Chamberlain announcing "peace for our time" — From here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SetNFqcayeA

I’m going back through a really smart book about why Liberals (in the British sense) supported appeasement of Hitler and Germany, and came across this really good description of Liberalism:

“Liberalism postulated the rational and ‘progressive’ nature of the historical process. Besides success, it upheld pragmatism, tolerance and compromise as the principal political virtues. At the core of the liberal outlook stood the ‘idea of limits.’ It abhorred excess and extremism; it believed that ‘absolutist’ thought of any sort assured at least failure if not perdition. All problems and conflicts were seen as soluble with the application of reason; and reason, Liberals believed, ultimately did prevail. Reason, in fact, suffused all and was identified with reality.” (3)

UK Liberals don’t correlate exactly to the Democratic or Republican Party in the US–they’re closer to centrist Democrats, Libertarians, or libertarian-oriented Republicans. And the point that the Morris book makes is that Liberals supported appeasing Hitler for very different reasons from Tories (the British conservative party). Like the Tories, they largely sympathized with the Germans regarding the punitive Versailles Treaty, disliked the French, and underestimated Hitler, but they did so for different reasons, especially regarding that last point.

They argued that Hitler had outgrown Mein Kampf, and dismissed the racism of Nazi ideology because, as Morris says, they “refused to believe that a ‘civilised’ nation of 70 millions could subscribe to it, let alone base domestic and foreign policies upon it” (7). They argued, over and over, the Nazism was really about economic issues and problems:

“Nazism was seen as the German version of Fascism, a socio-economic ideology of bankrupt capitalism. It served, and was subscribed to by, a coalition of economic ‘losers’–industrial and financial barons intent upon preserving their profits and economic empires, the unemployed and Lumpenproletariat seeking security and work, an the lower middle classes desirous of retaining their assets now imperilled by big business and political instability. Thus perceived, Nazism was an ideology of class war. [….] race doctrine was ignored or regarded as mere camouflage designed to conceal the ‘real’ (economic) motivations of the regime and its backers. ” (10-11)

If politics is war, what kind of war?

In May of 1943, Adolph Hitler had to face that the Nazis could no longer hold Sicily. Hitler, relunctantly and uncharacteristically, agreed to an evacuation of the Nazi troops from Sicily to the Italian mainland, but was told that the evacuation would be difficult because several of the ferries that might take the troops to the mainland had been destroyed. Hitler told his generals, “the decisive element is not the ferry, but the will” and “Where there is a will there is a ferry” (137). In another discussion with his generals in December of 1942 about the situation in the Stalingrad encirclement—100,000 troops were surrounded by Soviet forces and quickly starving and freezing to death—he was told that some of the troops were simply dropping dead of exhaustion. He deflected the question of whether there should be a fighting retreat (or even a set of strategic small retreats) to the question of medals. The connection seemed to be that soldiers were dying because they weren’t sufficiently motivated to continue living, something medals would help. He clearly believed that the will could conquer anything, from freezing to death to getting across a strait.

This belief, that the will could triumph over everything, meant that he fired anyone who didn’t seem to him to have sufficient will. This belief in the power of the will was a narrative: people of a certain kind (good people with sufficient will) can triumph over anything, including the lack of a ferry, or starvation and freezing temperatures. Hitler’s decision-making about war was always within that narrative.

Clausewitz famously said that war is politics by other means. If war is politics, then politics is war, and figures ranging from Mao Tse Tung to Steve Bannon have made exactly that argument. Of course, they don’t mean it is literally war, but that the stories we tell about politics are the same stories we tell about war. Many people have argued that we shouldn’t think of politics as war, and I don’t entirely disagree, but I have a different question: what kind of war? What story of war are we telling that we think is the story of politics?

Is the story about groups who are destined to go to war, who cannot possibly co-exist, or about groups who have conflicting material needs that might be negotiated? Is the story that our group has already is already under attack by an enemy determined on our extermination, and so we are in an extraordinary situation in which we are unconstrained by normal notions about moral behavior? Or, is the case that we are bargaining with another group about material goals, and threatening to go to war will enhance our bargaining situation, and so we have one narrative for the people bargaining (this is all a bluff), and another for the general public (we need to go to war)?

Not all wars are the same, not just in that they have different costs and causes, but they are very different kinds. There are limited wars, oriented toward very specific goals, or intended as one of the pressures brought to bear while bargaining. There are total wars, wars of extermination, preventive, pre-emptive, proxy. There are a lot of kinds of wars. So, if we are saying that politics is like war, whether we imagine war as limited and temporary violence or as extermination of the other matters tremendously.

Democracy is a method of government that can withstand passionate fighting among partisans, but when politics is seen as a war of extermination of all but one political position, then democracy is exterminated. This book is an attempt to persuade readers of that claim, but also to explain how and why it is that we move from seeing conflict and disagreement as beneficial to requiring extermination. That part of the argument is more complicated.

By “politics,” people usually mean the policies that are enacted by political figures, and the rhetoric we have about those policies. And, perhaps paradoxically, or perhaps not, the kind of political discourse—that is, rhetoric—we have about whether to go to war can help or hinder effective deliberation about war, whether and how to go to war, how to conduct it, whether to continue it. That is, if we see political discourse itself as war, then what kind of war we think it is (a war of extermination, bluffing, strategic) constrains or even prohibits effective political deliberation about whether we should go to war.

The argument I will make in this book is that how we think about discourse (which I’ll call rhetoric) and how we think about war are mutually inflecting. Take, for example, Hitler. Hitler thought about rhetoric as a kind of war—a war of extermination of opposition points of view that he would win through a combination of seduction, trickery, intimidation, jailing, shooting, sheer will, and success. That rhetoric worked tremendously well with his base, and reasonably well with the German public from 1933 until 1944. In other words, it worked as long as he was winning; it failed when he wasn’t. Equally important for the purposes of this book, that’s how he approached the deliberations with his generals about how to conduct the war. He bribed, lied to, intimidated, fired, and shot his generals until he had a loyal cadre who would support him completely—the same goal he had about Germans in general. He believed that politics and war should both be approached by having a clear vision of and fanatical commitment to in-group domination, as well as expulsion or extermination of all people not fanatically loyal to that vision.

And, because of those beliefs about belief, rhetoric, and war, he lost the war.

As an aside, I’ll mention that there are lots of other examples of leaders in both business and politics whose insistence on only listening to people with fanatical commitment to the vision led them to disaster, whether it’s the disaster of the USSR, or of Theranos.

We like to believe that evil people, and I think Hitler was evil, know that they are evil. But they don’t. Hitler thought he was on the side of Good. He sincerely believed that the world was facing an apocalyptic battle between Good (Aryans) and Evil (Jews and their stooges and tools). And, because he was on the side of Good, anything he did was good. That’s Machiavellianism—the means (even if they’re actions or policies we would normally condemn as immoral) are transmuted to morally good if our ends are good. But we all think our ends are good. Hitler’s weren’t, but he thought they were.

There is a long battle in western European philosophy grounded in what some (including me) would argue is a misreading of Plato: philosophy is the study of what is, and rhetoric is the study of what people can be persuaded is. Since Plato employed Aristotle to teach rhetoric in his Academy, I don’t think Plato was as dismissive of rhetoric as some philosophers would like to think. But, in any case, there is some justice to the characterization of rhetoric as the study of what and how people can come to believe that a particular way of seeing the world, a restricted range of our policy options, this representation of that group, what it means to be loyal—that is, how people come to believe. After all, we don’t go to war because of what the world is, but because of what we believe the world to be.

And we’re often wrong.

While we aren’t Hitler, we’re all people who engage in self-justification, self-servedness, short-term grasping, and in-group favoritism, and those tendencies don’t help us make good decisions. Those impulses constrain our abilities to listen to others, treat others fairly, imagine other experiences, reflect effectively on our own commitments, reason usefully about our policy options, consider unpleasant data, hold ourselves to the same standards we hold others. This book is about how and why we do that, especially when it comes to the question of war.

Why did British so many political leaders and media argue for getting along with Hitler as soon as he took power?

In two earlier posts about the British ambassador to Germany, Horace Rumbold, and several despatches he wrote back to the Foreign Office, I pointed out that he correctly understood and predicted Hitler’s goals and actions, and he did so on the basis of public and published statements on the part of Hitler and the Nazis. Anyone fluent in German could have drawn the same conclusions, and anyone not fluent in German just had to have a translator. It’s common for people to assume that Hitler was tolerated by Britain because British political leaders and media were misled about his goals and aims, or engaged in wishful thinking. But, actually, quite a few actively supported him and understood him pretty well. They tolerated (or supported) him because they sympathized with him more than they sympathized with his victims.

I emphasized Rumbold’s report on his May 11, 1933 meeting, and argued that Hitler relied on standard internet asshole moves, like deflection (especially through whaddaboutism), open embrace of an irrational argument, and blue lies. Being an internet asshole means, basically, discourse is about proving your commitment to your group rather than proving your case.

In the last part of his despatch, Rumbold describes Hitler’s reaction when Rumbold pointed out that Nazi persecution of the Jews had alienated a lot of people, just when Germany was beginning to get more sympathy. And the short version of this post is that, as in this meeting, Hitler was open in meetings about his antisemitism—he couldn’t stop himself–, so anyone who met with him had all the evidence they needed to know that he was completely committed to a judenfrei Germany. They just didn’t care.

In his dispatch, Rumbold says that he mentioned that the Nazi treatment of the Jews had resulted in a revulsion of sympathy for Germany, and

“The allusion to the treatment of the Jews resulted in the Chancellor working himself up into a state of great excitement […] as if he were addressing an open-air meeting. “There is an immense amount of unemployment in Germany, and I have, for instance, to turn away youths of pure German stock from the high schools. There are not enough posts for pure-bred Germans, and the Jews must suffer with the rest. If the Jews engineer a boycott of German goods from abroad, I will take care that this hits the Jews in Germany. [….] Before leaving this subject the Chancellor added that the understood that Jews wishing to settle in Palestine must be in possession of the sum of £1,000. If the German Government had required the possession of a similar sum in the case of the Eastern Jews, who had entered Germany since the war, there would be no Jewish question in this country. As it was the Jews had brought every form of disease into Germany and made for the demoralization of the country generally.

[….] My comment on the foregoing is that Herr Hitler is himself responsible for the anti-Jewish policy of the German Government and that it would be a mistake to believe that it is the policy of his wilder men whom he has difficulty in controlling. Anybody who had had the opportunity of listening to his remarks on the subject of Jews could not have failed, like myself, to realise that he is a fanatic on the subject. He is also convinced of his mission to fight Communism and destroy Marxism, which term embraces all his political adversaries.”

So, Hitler moves from an argument that is rhetorically framed as though it is an issue of fairness “the Jews must suffer with the rest” to an argument rhetorically framed as legitimate self-defense to whaddaboutism to rabid antisemitism of a kind socially acceptable to many Brits. Before I walk through that argument more slowly, I have to point out that the second paragraph of that long quote is the most important for understanding the real lesson of Hitler: how racism is always rhetorically reframed as concerns about dangerous political commitment, social hygiene, and/or reducing crime. What most people don’t know is how important the notion of “executing partisans” (that is, killing socialists) was for justifying mass killings of Jews in what Timothy Snyder calls the Bloodlands. Nazis’ political agenda of serial genocides was, in public, always rhetorically framed as exterminating communism.

But, let’s get back to the first paragraph.

We’re still talking about internet asshole. One of the most frustrating things about arguing with someone committed to arguing irrationally is that they appropriate the verbal cues of fairness and rationality, while they’re irrationally arguing for their in-group being entitled to better treatment. But they hide their argument within modifying phrases.

Like all internet assholes, Hitler buried his weakest claims in adjectival phrases—pure German stock, pure-bred Germans—so he has an argument for entitlement rhetorically framed as an argument for fairness. This isn’t fairness as equal treatment across groups, but fairness as an entitled and powerful group being allowed to hold onto its power. It’s “fairness” as “a system that preserves a hierarchy we think is right.” So, it’s “fairness” as “our group being dominant.”

As I said, his most problematic claims are buried.

Let’s be clear: there is and never was any such thing as “pure German stock.” Hitler was relying on Madison Grant’s completely incoherent argument about race. Grant’s argument was that there were three white races: Nordic (what Hitler called Aryan), Alpine, and Mediterranean (what Hitler would have considered non-German speakers in Central and Eastern Europe), and he argued that inter-mixing of these races led to the destruction of a civilization. In other words, like a toddler who can’t stand the peas to touch the mashed potatoes, Grant believed that inter-mixing of races was bad. Yet, by his own narrative, the races were intermixed at various points, since the “higher” race slowly arose from a mixing of the “lower,” and the best civilizations were ones created by intermixing. A longer explanation of how bad his argument was is here.

It’s interesting that Hitler was not “pure German stock” even by his own standards. “Pure German stock” was a blue lie that Hitler sincerely believed, and that he phenotypically violated. His followers didn’t care. Hitler, very clearly not an Aryan, became the political leader to make Aryanism triumph. This isn’t particular to Hitler or his followers. Suckers often join a cult of a person not a Christian because they think he’ll make Christianity triumph or a financially unsuccessful person whom they believe will lead them to thrive financially.

Setting that aside, what his argument assumes is that Jews can’t be pure Germans. And that is the argument that needed to be proven on his side, and he never did because he never could. If a non-Aryan Austrian like Hitler can be a leader of pure Germans, why can’t German citizens be German? Hitler could never make that argument coherently, so he never tried. He just made arguments that rested on the premise that Germans who were Jews didn’t count as German. And that is the first step in politicide, religicide, classicide, or genocide, and people all over the political spectrum engage in it: declare your critics not really German, or American, or Christian, or whatever. They are people who keep us from the goal of a pure community, and so should be eliminated.

We need to stop doing that.

But, back to the May 11 memo, since I really want to post this on May 11.

What Hitler assumes, which is what all racists assume, is a zero-sum contest among races, and that not being dominant means being subordinate—equality is being dominated. But, more important, he assumes that people only look out for their own group. Thus, he can’t even begin to imagine that any non-Jews are objecting to the treatment of Jews, so the protest must be “engineered by Jews.”

As in the other two topics mentioned in the previous posts, he initially denies, then admits, and then deflects the accusation against him.

He denies the accusation by pretending that he is concerned with fairness, but his next argument confirms exactly what he started out denying—discrimination against Jews (since he’s saying “pure German stock” should have preference), and then he threatens retaliation for action that would itself be the consequence of the persecution he denied and then confirmed. It then shifts into a particularly irrelevant piece of whaddaboutism, before he exposes himself as having exactly the views he is accused of having.

The swipe about Palestine is typical. Hitler often made a point to representatives of other countries that their nations often had restrictive immigration regarding Eastern Europeans, especially Eastern European Jews (such as the US 1924 Immigration Act). And Hitler would say that they would do the same thing he was, but they didn’t have to, since they’d never let the Jews in in the first place.

It’s another argument that looks as though it has a point, but it doesn’t have one that is relevant. Britain did have the restrictions he mentions regarding immigration to Palestine, but, as far as I can tell, they didn’t require money to immigrate to the UK itself.

But, Hitler probably often found himself talking to someone who wished Britain did have such restrictive immigration, and so they would sympathize with his desire. Anti-semitic and anti-Slavic prejudices were widespread in Europe generally, including Britain.. And, while these people, ranging from Lord Londonderry to Viscount Rothermere (owner of the Daily Mail), might bemoan the most excessive violence, they wouldn’t empathize with the victims. Like Hitler, they considered various “races” (such as Jews and Slavs) essentially criminal and communist. And, like Hitler, they used the term “Marxism” for all their political adversaries. Thus, like the argument about Germans being victimized because they weren’t allowed to dominate, Hitler’s argument about Jews—as incoherent as it was—would resonate with some people because they didn’t really need the argument to be made; they already agreed.

Hitler as internet a-hole

In an earlier post, I talked about how Hitler appealed to the sense that some groups are entitled to dominate others—a sense shared by a lot of the major figures of his time, who were, therefore, willing to see him as someone with whom they could work. I mentioned that Hitler also relied heavily on deflection, especially whaddaboutism, that enabled him to normalize Nazi violence and persecution and to deflect his own personal responsibility, and I was using a despatch written by Horace Rumbold (British Ambassador to Germany) of a meeting May 11, 1933.

This is the second post about that meeting.

Rumbold reports

The Chancellor then went on to talk about the recent revolution in Germany, which, he said, had probably been unique, inasmuch as it had been accompanied with the minimum of violence and bloodshed. He maintained that not even a pane of glass had been broken in Berlin. Two printing-presses belonging to the Communist party had been destroyed, and perhaps some twenty people in all killed throughout the country. He seemed to remember that matters had been very different in Ireland in 1921, when the law courts had been burnt down and there had been much loss of life. He added very bitterly that between the years 1923 and 1932, 360 of his supporters had been treacherously murdered and some 40,000 injured.

Hitler insisted that the SS and SA “were in no sense military formations, and that he had forbidden them to indulge in military exercises of any kind.”

I’ve spent a lot of time arguing with jerks, and I find this kind of jerk the most frustrating. They’re frustrating because what they’re saying looks like an argument—it has claims, and it has data that are linguistically related to the claims. The data and claims are, however, not logically related to one another. Some of the data is true, or true enough, but not relevant, and the relevant data is false—a deliberate lie, in fact. And then we have claims that might be hyperbole, or they be lies (the idea that their revolution was unique, only two printing presses destroyed, the number of his supporters murdered or injured). The data looks precise (360 deaths, two printing presses) but the important terms are so vague that he actually has a lot of room for equivocation (why only mention Berlin, what does “much loss of life” mean, what exactly is “the revolution”). Hitler doesn’t care that his claims and data are false, and his overall argument illogical. He has no sense of being responsible for what he’s saying or doing. Arguing with him is like trying to play chess with someone who openly pockets pieces and refuses to admit to it. Violating the rules of argument is part of the pleasure.

So, what do you do?

It might be worth engaging with him simply for purposes of trying to undermine his rhetorical effectiveness with third parties—at Rumbold’s May 11 meeting, the only other person in the room is Hitler’s third-rate toady, Baron von Neurath, and Rumbold chooses not to argue. But, what if there are observers to whom you want to expose Hitler’s irrationality and dishonesty?

The rhetorical advantage of being a liar like Hitler is that he has nothing to lose by continuing to lie. If he gets caught in a lie, he can simply claim it was hyperbole—or what is called a “blue lie,” and so it will cost him nothing with his base. The whole point of the charismatic leadership relationship is that it is an irrational commitment to an irrational genius. It is a profoundly religious relationship, in which the leader is worshipped, and so the leader benefits from the kind of thinking common in religions—about claims not needing to be literally true, or empirical facts; they are “true” to the extent that they are consistent with the central beliefs of the religion.[1] The religion of which Hitler is the high priest is the religion of Nazism, and one of the central tenets of Nazism is that Germans are the victims of liberalism, socialism, alien races, and the Versailles Treaty. Because they are the real victims, they are justified in any action they take against the people who have tried to exterminate them. Or who criticize them.

When Rumbold said that there was discrimination against Jews (which Hitler had both denied and bragged about—that’s the next post) and “instanced the names of Professor Einstein and Herr Bruno Watler.” Hitler replied that “Professor Einstein had attacked his Government violently from American soil” and that any English scientist who did the same “would risk molestation in England.” In the first place, no. In the second place, Hitler is equating verbal criticism with attacking, and using that Einstein criticized Nazi Germany as evidence that their prior abuse of him was justified. When arguing with someone like Hitler, this weird warping of time is common—the question was whether Germany was discriminating against Jews, and Hitler said expelling Einstein was justified because Einstein criticized Nazi Germany after being expelled.

So, Hitler’s argument is: there isn’t discrimination against Jews; there is discrimination against Jews, but it’s justified; and, besides, England would do the same (so whaddaboutism based on a hypothetical). Rumbold takes the bait of disagreeing about the last point, making Hitler’s deflection rhetorically effective. They’re now on the issue of whether Britain persecutes people who criticize the government—a point that has nothing to do with whether Nazis do.

This shift is one of the major functions of whaddaboutism—to shift the burden of proof from the weaker case to the other. It’s more or less an admission that a position is indefensible.

Hitler’s earlier whaddaboutism is even more interesting rhetorically. Usually, the whaddaboutism is the kind he engages in about Einstein—it enables the rhetor with a weak case to go on the attack. So, it’s tu quoque—you do it too. He does some of that (the reminder of violence in Ireland in 1921), but his argument about the non-violence of the revolution ends up in whaddaboutism with anti-fascists.

It has the same structure as the argument about Einstein, but without Rumbold saying anything to dispute him:

Hitler makes a false claim (it was unique because it was accomplished with a minimum of bloodshed; there is no discrimination against Jews) that he then contradicts (there were at least 20 people killed; they expelled Einstein); and he justifies this new claim by saying that other people did just as much or worse and therefore this violence was justified. In this case, the violence was the number of Nazis killed and injured during the violence instigated by Nazi groups.

Just as Hitler isn’t responsible for anything he says, so Nazis aren’t responsible for anything bad. It’s never their fault because it is never purely their actions. When it comes to anything bad, then Hitler has a monocausal narrative, and any actors other than Nazis are responsible for the Nazi behavior. Even if deflecting responsibility this way requires some fairly strange time travelling responsibility.

It struck me as very strange when I was reading proslavery rhetors how much they deflected responsibility. They were patient, but about to lose control, and if they did, it would be the fault of abolitionists (or slaves) that they lost control. They genuinely seemed to see themselves as continually exerting heroic self-control that they were about to lose. And nothing was their fault—not slavery, not the conditions of slavery, not the slave codes, not slave rebellions, not even their losing their own tempers and beating slaves. It’s the rhetoric of an abuser.

It makes sense, in its own weird way, that the person who amounts to the idol of an ideology of irrational commitment to the will, violence, and domination would be incapable of making a rational argument. And I think internet a-holes who are similarly incapable of defending their beliefs rationally are similarly commitment to a kind of moral nihilism—there is no morality other than domination. The reason that it strikes me as weird is: why do people who admire domination so much, and who see an irrational argument that silences interlocutors because of how incoherently stupid it is as a victorious domination, whine so fucking much about being victims?

[1] This isn’t a criticism of religion. I consider myself a religious person, and I have beliefs that are not falsifiable or rationally defensible. But, when we start to use that kind of thinking for a political leader, we have created a second God. And I’m not a polytheist.

Why would people like us have supported appeasing Hitler?

nazi propaganda poster saying "death to marism"

This was going to be one post, but it turned into several. And it’s a set of posts, not about how appeasing Hitler was right (it wasn’t), but about how people like us actively supported Hitler, or actively supported appeasing him.

It’s common for people to express outraged bewilderment at British politicians and figures who appeased Hitler—we claim not to understand how they could have been duped by him, how they could not have seen him for who he really was. We like to explain appeasement either by saying that Hitler was a rhetorical magician, whose persuasive skills were overwhelming, or by saying that the people who didn’t take him seriously enough were fools engaged in wishful thinking. Neither is the case. In fact, many of us would have supported appeasing Hitler. If we try to tell a story of an irresistible rhetor or hopelessly gullible political leaders, then we are the gullible ones.

In other words, this isn’t about Hitler, and it isn’t about Chamberlain. It’s about us.

Hitler, like many manipulative people, didn’t persuade others, as much as he gave them the tools that enabled them to persuade themselves of something they already wanted to believe. Those strategies (and those people) allowed Hitler to normalize Nazi behavior and deflect his personal responsibility for what couldn’t be normalized.

On May 11, 1933, the British Ambassador to Germany, Horace Rumbold, met with Hitler. Hitler had only been in the government since that January, and dictator since that March, but Rumbold already had him correctly sized up. Rumbold described the meeting in a dispatch back to the Foreign Office (Documents on British Foreign Policy 1919-1939, Second Series, Volume V #139) and his description of it shows how Hitler’s rhetoric worked (and, in this case, didn’t work) and with whom.

The meeting was fairly typical of meetings with Hitler—he did most of the talking, got unhinged on the subject of Jews, deflected (especially through whaddaboutism), and lied or exaggerated when he couldn’t deflect. After the Reichstag Fire, the Nazi government arrested anyone considered communist, a category that included labor union activists. Nazi persecution of Jews was well known, as well as violence against communists.

Because he had read Mein Kampf and been listening to speeches by Hitler and other major Nazis, Rumbold knew exactly what Hitler planned. In a memo written not long before this meeting (Documents on British Foreign Policy 1919-1939, Second Series, Volume V #36), Rumbold had summarized Hitler’s philosophy (long quotes from Rumbold are the full paragraphs in italics):

He starts with the assertion that man is a fighting animal: therefore the nation is, he concludes, a fighting unit, being a community of fighters. Any living organism which ceases to fight for its existence is, he asserts, doomed to extinction. A country or a race which ceases to fight is equally doomed. The fighting capacity of a race depends on its purity. Hence the necessity for ridding it of foreign impurities. The Jewish race, owing to its universality, is of necessity pacificist and internationalist. Pacificism is the deadliest sin, for pacificism means the surrender of the race in the fight for existence [….] The race must fight: a race that rests must rust and perish. The German race, had it been united in time, would now be master of the globe today. The new Reich must gather within its folds all the scattered German elements in Europe [….] The ultimate aim of education is to produce a German who can be converted with the minimum of training into a soldier [….] Again and again he proclaims that fanatical conviction and uncompromising resolution are indispensable qualities in a leader [….] Germany needs peace until she has recovered such strength that no country can challenge her without serious and irksome preparations.

He was right, as we know. It’s important to point out that his correct interpretation of Hitler and the Nazis was grounded in evidence available to anyone fluent in German—the public and published statements of Hitler and the Nazis. It’s also important to point out that, while Hitler had very recently (around 1932) begun talking in terms of self-determination rather than conquest, shifted to dog whistles about his racist policies, and took to lying about violations of the Versailles Treaty, he never retracted, apologized for, or even qualified his previous very clear statements about German hegemony, the desire for a pure and militarized Germany, the need for violence, the equation of Jews and communism, and so on.

People do change their minds, of course, and so the notion that Hitler wasn’t the hothead he had been in the twenties isn’t obviously wrong. But he only stopped making all those arguments two or three years before becoming Chancellor, and he never retracted them. When people change their minds, they openly retract what they previous said. He changed his rhetoric, and not his mind. He didn’t change his rhetoric because he wanted to hold on to the base he’d created with his militaristic and racist rhetoric; he’d risk losing them if he retracted those sorts of statements. When a political figure suddenly changes their rhetoric, then we have to figure out which sets of statements s/he meant, and one relatively straightforward one is: they believe the one they’ve never retracted, even if they’re stopped saying it or are saying the opposite.

But, back to Rumbold’s despatch about the May 11 meeting.

Rumbold says that Hitler complained about the “Polish Corridor:”

He only wished that the Corridor had been created far more to the east. (This is the same remark as that which he recently made to the Polish Minister). The result of the creation of the Corridor had been to provoke grave dissatisfaction in Germany and apprehension in Poland, for the Poles realized that it was an artificial creation. Thus a state of unrest was kept alive.

So, what is Hitler doing?

First, he wasn’t a mastermind of rhetoric. Someone genuinely skilled in rhetoric wouldn’t harangue people in small meetings, but he was notorious for that—not only for, as he does in this meeting, doing almost all the talking, but actually slipping into giving a speech. He was highly skilled at one kind of rhetoric—he was good at making a speech that moved a crowd. Even William Shirer, the Berlin correspondent for American media, says that he sometimes found himself temporarily moved by Hitler’s speeches, and he knew exactly who Hitler was and what he wanted. Paradoxically (given what we know about Hitler), what came across so effectively in the big public speeches was that Hitler was completely, passionately, authentically, and even irrationally committed to the cause of Germany (the in-group). We don’t expect rational discussions of policy options in large public speeches (although maybe we should); we are particularly prone to the rush of the charismatic leadership relationship. And that’s what Hitler offered.

In one-on-one situations, charismatic leadership works less well—that Hitler was irrationally committed to the cause of Germans wasn’t especially interesting to the British Ambassador. What does work, but only for people who are looking to be persuaded, are the strategies that Hitler uses: projection, whaddaboutism, lying, exaggeration.

Take, for instance, Hitler’s comments about the “Polish Corridor.” The idea that there are “natural” boundaries, which the Polish Corridor violated, is part of Hitler’s racist notions about some “races” being entitled to territory. Of course the boundaries are artificial—that is, made by humans—because that’s what boundaries always are. Poles weren’t worried about the boundaries being artificial; they were worried about German aggression. Hitler’s passive—a state of unrest was kept alive—makes it seem as though Poles were partially responsible for the state of unrest. Were the Poles completely confident about the borders, there would still be a state of unrest because of Hitler’s rhetoric about German entitlement. Poles weren’t apprehensive about the boundaries; they were apprehensive about Nazi aggression. Hitler projects his unrest he creates onto the Poles.

This strategy would work with an interlocutor who believed that states have “natural” boundaries, or that the boundaries set by the negotiations at the end of the Great War were artificial or unfair to Germany. This way of presenting the situation would also work with someone who didn’t really believe that Poles were people who should be considered, or at least not considered as having the same natural rights to self-determination and a nation-state as, say, Germans.

What many people now forget is that the Austro-Hungarian Empire had collapsed with the Great War, and one consequence was the rebirth (or creation, depending on your narrative of history) of various nation-states that hadn’t existed for several lifetimes. Poland and Czechoslovakia were two of those nation-states. Given the vexed and sometimes violent history of 19th century conflicts over nationalism, language, and oppression, some boundaries had been deliberately designed to keep Germans a minority. Were he talking to the kind of racist who believed that Germans were better people than Slavs, Hitler’s implicit argument about the boundaries would seem reasonable. As it happens, he wasn’t at that moment, but he often was. So, one reason that major political figures argued for appeasing Hitler was that they agreed with him that Germans should be politically dominant in central Europe because Slavs were, you know, so Slavic. They would, therefore, overlook that a state of unrest was kept alive because of German leaders like Hitler, and instead be willing to see the situation—self-determination for Slavs designed to keep a minority German population from dominating—as artificial, with some vague sort of “both sides are at fault” way of framing the situation.

These people wouldn’t necessarily think Germany should take over all the areas previously controlled by the Austro-Hungarian Empire, but they would be sympathetic to Germany calling a situation artificial if it kept German speakers from political domination. They might object to Germany dominating Europe, but not what they (wrongly) imagined to be racial Germans dominating the political situations in most Central and Eastern European countries.

We now forget (or don’t know) how widespread what we now know are bullshit narratives about “race” were in that era. Race, which even the most respected and cited scholarship on race couldn’t define consistently, was incoherently associated with language, and sometimes phenotype (but only when that was politically useful). Books like Passing of the Great Race (1916) or The Rising Tide of Color (1921) were tremendously popular in the US and Britain, and they were pearl-clutching jeremiads about the danger to civilization from Central and Eastern Europeans—that is, from Slavs and, worst of all, Slavish Jews. That was the whole point of the extremely restrictive 1924 Immigration Act—it was designed to reduce the number of people coming from Southern, Central, and Eastern Europe.

Hitler’s griping about the “artificiality” of the Polish Corridor was grounded in the belief that people who self-identified as German (what he would have called “Aryans”) should not be politically dominated by Slavs. And that argument would work with anyone who agreed with the unhappily common premise that politics should not be people from different groups arguing from their different perspectives, but people who have the right point of view being dominant.

So, for our fantasy that we would never have supported Hitler, the important question is: do we believe that ideal political deliberation has people with radically different points of view, people we really dislike and look down on, arguing with one another, or do we think it consists of our in-group being “naturally” (ontologically) entitled to political domination?

If the latter, then we would have loved Hitler, as long as we agreed with him as to what in-group was entitled to political domination.

Just in case I’ve been unclear: if we condemn Hitler, but believe that only our group has a legitimate political stance, and that our group is entitled to domination, then we don’t really condemn Hitler. We would have been open to persuasion to his narrative about the victimization of Germans, since we believe that a group can be victimized simply on the grounds that it isn’t as dominant as it feels entitled to be.

One of the reasons that people supported Hitler–including people shocked that he did what he’d said he would do were he in power–was that they agreed with his premise that there is an in-group that should have all the political power. If we agree with that premise, but disagree as to which group it is, we’re close enough to Hitler that we’re just splitting some very fine hairs.

The Enabling Act and the current coup attempt

On March 23, 1933, Adolf Hitler argued that what “the left” had done was so outrageous that Germany should abandon democracy and make him dictator. The elected officials did.

He was supported by the Catholic Party, all conservative parties, and the majority of Protestants. The only parties to oppose him were the Democratic Socialists and the Communists.

Since everyone other than socialists and communists supported Hitler, why is it a talking point among pro-Trump groups that Hitler was a socialist, and therefore a leftist? Because they want to rationalize engaging in exactly the same kind of coup that Hitler managed—we have to abandon democratic practices because “the left” is so bad—while pretending they aren’t doing exactly what Hitler did.

A lot of people reason by identity rather than politics. That is, they engage in the fantasy that good people, and only good people, will enact good policies. So, when trying to decide how to vote, just look for someone for someone who understands you, who is like you. That’s called “identification.” There’s a kind of narcissism in it—or maybe political solipsism is a better word. You just look out for yourself, and vote for someone who will look out for you, and….what, exactly, is supposed to happen? There can’t be a one-to-one relationship of identities (young, old, middle-aged, no kids, lots of kids, a disabled kid) between voters and political figures because there aren’t that many people in Congress (and voting on this basis always hurts the smaller groups). In addition, what are called social groups (not social in the sense of being about socializing, but group memberships that are important for a sense of self, such as having a child who gets accommodations in schools, having a a dog, or being evangelical Christian) don’t necessarily lead to policy affiliation. Not everyone with a dog wants off-leash dog parks, after all.

Good political figures should be able to look out for lots of different kinds of people; that’s what democracy requires. Diversity is a fact.

But a politics of identification assumes that identity is stable and monocausally determines policy affiliation. With unintentional irony, self-described “right wing” media figures throw themselves around about “the left” engaging in “identity politics,” yet that’s what they offer to their audience: the assumption that their identity (being “conservative”) necessarily leads to one political agenda (that is never clearly stated in the affirmative). It’s generally what’s called a “negative identity”—people are “conservative” just because they aren’t “liberal” (and vice versa).

What people call “right-wing” politics should be called reactionary toxic populist nationalism. It isn’t conservative. Conservativism is a political ideology that, although I disagree with it, even I will say is generally internally coherent and principled. Pro-Trump politics isn’t internally coherent or principled—it’s irrational factionalism. Using a private server is terrible, unless it’s a Trump family member. Pornography is terrible, unless it’s a Trump family member. A problematic charity is terrible, unless it’s Trump’s. There are no principles that are applied consistently across groups.

Supporting Trump comes from two sources. First, there’s charismatic leadership. He’s decisive and confident and (they think) successful. People drawn to Trump for this reason believe that politics isn’t complicated, that the right solution is obvious, and that politicians make things unnecessarily complicated because they’re doofuses. They believe that “regular people” (like them) are screwed over by our current political system, and that Trump understands them, and is looking out for them. They know he isn’t a doofus because he says things are simple, he’s confident he can solve them, and they saw him be decisive on a (scripted) TV show. He feels transparent to them.

They believe that because everything he says, and even the way he stands, shows that he is clearly a successful guy who gets them and who knows what needs to be done. And he’ll cut through the bullshit and get it done.

And they only pay attention to information that says that what they believe about Trump is true. They reject any criticism of Trump on the grounds that it is criticism. They believe what they believe is true because it’s what they believe, and anything that says what they believe is false must be false because it contradicts what they believe.

These are people, in my experience, who make the same mistake over and over, and who get scammed. A lot. They’re people who are often good and kind, and who believe that Scripture means what it seems to mean to them, and that people are who they say they are. That’s why they get scammed. They believe that the world is not complicated, but that bad people make it seem complicated, and so they like people who are decisive and confident. Con artists are always decisive and confident (so are a lot of badly informed people).

I have to digress and say that, since I’ve spent a lot of my life arguing with all sorts of people, this way of thinking about the world (it’s all really simple, and people just try to make it complicated, and we can solve this problem that no one else has solved by being thoroughly commitment to this simple solution that, for inexplicable reasons, no one else has ever adopted) is all over the political spectrum. It isn’t just Trump supporters (here, for instance, is a nice discussion of how it’s playing out right now among democratic socialists).

Second, many people support Trump in a purely reactionary way—he is NOT “libruls” (whom they believe to be the cause of all problems in the world. He will (and does) crush them, and, since they think libruls cause all the problems, crushing them will solve all the problems. It’s still toxic populism, in that it’s saying that there are some Americans who aren’t really American, whose views shouldn’t be represented (or even discussed), and who should be excluded from power.

Those two kinds of support—here is a strong, decisive person with excellent judgment who will cut through all the bullshit, and here is someone who will purge our government and culture of liberals and their influence—are the two kinds of support for Hitler.

Am I saying that Trump is Hitler? No.

Am I saying that the people who are supporting Trump would have supported Hitler? That is exactly what I’m saying.

Socially acceptable racism; Or, how “new” racism isn’t new

A lot of people make the point that there was a kind of racism—called “old” racism—that was openly biological/genetic, and openly hostile. Then, at a certain point, racist discourse shifted to become more genteel. That distinction between old and new racism isn’t entirely accurate, and the way it’s inaccurate is important. There have always been “genteel” racisms—what might be called “racism with a smile” or “some of my closest friends are…” racism. And those “nice” (that is, socially acceptable) racisms enable the kinds that openly advocate violence, expulsion, and extermination.

In this post, I want to talk about one of them—one that was tremendously popular in the twentieth century. This view accepted that there were “races,” that they were essentially (even genetically) different, that these differences manifest themselves in external characteristics (looks, behavior, cultural practices), but that all of these differences add to the richness of human life. This kind of racism celebrated the essential differences of human races. (Sort of. I’ll get to that.) People advocating this kind of racism often explicitly set themselves off from a similarly biological racism (they weren’t racist) on the grounds that they weren’t that bad.

Take, for instance, Dorothy Sayers, the mystery novelist. In Whose Body (1923), the villain kills a perfectly nice Jew out of spite with a non-trivial amount of antisemitism. The hero expresses no antisemitism, not even when his friend indicates a desire to marry into a Jewish family, and the narrator has nothing negative to say about the victim or his family. In fact, everything we hear about the victim and his family appears positive. He is very good at playing the stock market and therefore wealthy, but not showy in this wealth (for instance, because he doesn’t have a chauffeur, he travels alone to the meeting the murderer has set up). He dotes on his wife and daughter, and is a good family man. He is kind to people.

This all appears positive—he’s smart, successful, modest, and a family man. This characterization is, however, simply the “positive” side of the same coin of rabidly antisemitic rhetoric. For those groups, Jews are: parasitic capitalist, money-grubbing, cheap, tribal (“clannish” is the word sometimes used), and kind becomes “pacifist” or “cowardly.”

Antisemitic rhetoric in groups like the Nazis stuck close to the producer/parasite dichotomy that runs back through readings of Paul’s prohibition about usury. Chip Berlet and Matthew Lyons have a useful description of how that dichotomy plays into toxic populism. The short version is that toxic populism presents some group as producers, and the other as parasites, or, in Paul Ryan’s more recent rhetoric, “makers” and “takers.” The in-group is always makers. For many populists, people who make money off of money—financiers, people who play the stock market—haven’t really created wealth (such as through owning land). They’re parasites.

Nazis were populists (authoritarians almost always are, even though their policies actually screw over most of the populace, and especially the middle and lower classes). The notion that Jews were always financiers and stock market geniuses (and bankers) was one of the most important aspects of Nazi antisemitic propaganda. It’s a theme in Mein Kampf, fercryinoutloud. Real money, so this argument goes, comes from agriculture, or perhaps small manufacturing. Being good at the stock market, for Nazis, is a smear.

Similarly, the negative stereotype of Jews was that they can never really be patriots, because they always favor their family rather than their country (for Hitler, an “Aryan” putting his family first is putting the country first). And the stereotype of Jews as cheap was another piece of antisemitic rhetoric. In other words, Sayers, even if her portrayal of a Jew appeared sympathetic (i.e., she was trying to be “nice”), reinforced exactly the stereotypes that resulted in the Holocaust: Jews are good at finance (capitalist parasites), modest (miserly), family lovers (clannish), non-violent (pacifists and cowards). It was racism with a smile.

She was far from alone. After Wyndham Lewis’ enthusiastic paean to Hitler (1931) didn’t go over as well as he’d expected, and his insistence that Hitler was “a man of peace” showed him to have been very wrong, he tried to get back in the good graces of the public with his Jews: Are They Human? (1939). His answer is that they have their own virtues—they’re very loyal to one another and family-loving (clannish), careful with money (greedy and miserly), and so on. Like Sayers, he put it in positive terms, but it was still endorsing the notion that Jews have an essential set of characteristics.

Lewis took Hitler’s claims of wanting world peace at face value, but it’s interesting that he didn’t take Nazi antisemitism at face value. I think it’s because he didn’t really object to it all that much. Lewis and the Nazis didn’t disagree as to the basic character of Jews; they just disagreed as to what should be done about it. So, for Lewis, Hitler’s antisemitism wasn’t especially notable—it was something he could dismiss as a little bit of an overreaction.

What has been a little surprising to me in working on demagoguery, especially when it leads to extreme policies about the cultural out-group, is the number of people who consider themselves “moderate” who endorse the basic narrative behind the demagoguery about the out-group. They just don’t think it should be taken too far.

Germans who agreed that there should be a quota for Jewish doctors, Americans who agreed that integrated schools were just a little too much, Brits who wouldn’t want their daughter to marry one—they could all see themselves as “not racist” (or, at least, not unreasonable in their attitudes toward Those People) because there was some other group less nuanced, less reasonable in their hostility. And, when push came to shove, they might raise an eyebrow at the people who did go “too far,” or perhaps mutter some criticism, but that’s about it. They were often allies, and rarely enemies, of the people who went “too far.”

Thus, that we now have people who say “I’m not racist, but…” isn’t a sign that there is a new kind of racism. It’s an old form, and a very damaging one.

Invitation to the Bores (Hitler’s “Table Talk”–RSA talk)

To the extent that scholars in rhetoric are interested in Hitler (and that isn’t much) the attention is paid to his big rallies and major speeches, but, for purposes of thinking about our current problems with political deliberation, his smaller rhetorical situations are more instructive, specifically, his deliberations with his immediate circle.

The very effective Nazi propaganda machine promoted the “Hitler Myth:” that he (and he alone) had the sincerity, will, stamina, and judgment to lead Germany to the greatness it once had and was entitled to have again (Kershaw, Hitler Myth). His superior judgment enabled him to have brilliant insights—better than supposed “experts”—on topics ranging from interior design to economics. He was particularly prone to showing off this “universal genius” at meals, during which he delivered monologues for the benefit of his inner circle, his most devoted followers—the people most deeply committed to him, and most committed to promoting the myth of him as a universal genius. The paradox I want to pursue in this talk is that those were the people who, because of so much exposure to his opinions and processes of judgment, must have known that he wasn’t a universal genius at all. Yet, they seem to have believed and not believed in his perfect judgment.

Albert Speer, who maintained in his mendacious post-war writings that he avoided the mealtime monologues, describes an illustrative moment, when Hitler lied to his dining companions about having chosen all the marble personally for various buildings. Speer comments:”Hadn’t he noticed that I was sitting at an adjoining table? What so took me aback was and is the fact that he was still clutching at glory in such ridiculously trivial questions” (Spandau 118).

Speer says, “How intense and uncontrollable this man’s desire to show off must have been!” (Spandau 119). It wasn’t just Speer who must have noticed that quality. He mentions that “Hitler quite often presented as the fruit of his own reflections” information that Speer knew had been given him by other experts, and that all of the inner circle knew that Hitler lied when he claimed to read all of a treatise, since he also bragged about only reading the ends of books.

Speer, describing an evening that devolved into Hitler’s “lengthy expatiations on the role of the individual in history” (Spandau 58), says that Hitler’s “relationship to history was sheer romanticism and centered around the concept of the hero. He might well mention Napoleon or Old Shatterhand in one sentence” (Spandau 59). ‘Old Shatterhand’ was the hero of the German author Karl May’s Western novels, which Hitler loved, and which informed Hitler’s understanding of American history and culture (although May hadn’t been to the US prior to writing most of the Shatterhand series). Speer says that “Hitler would rely on Karl May as proof for everything imaginable” including what constitutes the ideal company commander (in the form of May’s fictional Winnetou, Spandau 347; see also Kershaw, Hitler 7, Hubris 15, ). Someone whose assessment of a major foe is grounded in popular novels is hardly a genius, let alone a universal one.

Many of Hitler’s lunch and dinner monologues were later published as a book called Hitler’s Table Talk (an obvious reference to The Table Talk of Martin Luther), or, more accurately, some version of those monologues was. The history of their publication is fraught, and there are reasons to doubt many of the passages (especially regarding religion). There is also reason to think that the published version is more coherent than what listening to them was actually like. Speer says of the published version that it “more or less filtered [Hitler’s] torrent of speech and subsequently smoothed and styled it” (Spandau 345). The book, Speer says, reduced Hitler’s repetition, “the slow, painful process of gestation which could be felt in the way phrases were formed [….] Vivid monologues have been produced out of agonizing long-windedness” (Spandau 346). It’s hard to imagine that the actual talk would have been even more long-winded and incoherent, since reading Hitler’s Table Talk is like reading the transcript of what a narcissistic sophomore in college who thinks he has smoked good weed would say to a room of people who have passed out long ago or are already getting at it on the bunk bed above. It’s hard to read them and not come to the conclusion that Hitler is a bloviating, self-deluded, thin-skinned blowhard.

It’s equally hard to believe that the people at the tables with him didn’t come to that conclusion as well.

There are similar problems with the transcripts of Hitler’s meetings with his generals (Hitler and His Generals). While the post-war narrative promoted by many of Hitler’s generals (that he continually got in their way, that they could have won the war if left to make their own decisions, that they didn’t know about the serial genocides, and that they continually resisted him, and so on) was simply untrue, the deliberations do show a leader not very good at deliberating. Like the meal-time monologues, they have passages of Hitler browbeating, rambling, and being more concerned with being right than with finding the right course of action. As his generals are pressuring him to make a decision, he might suddenly veer off into a windy digression about medals, the racial characteristics of troops, how right he was in some previous disagreement with generals, why his experience as a private means he understands strategy better than any general.

My point is that the people exposed to this blathering and bullshitting would have known Hitler was not a stable genius with universally valid insight. Yet they were the ones who most enabled him and enabled the Hitler myth. Why support him, why support the lie that Germans should trust him? What persuaded them to support him publicly? And the answer is: the way that the power relations inherent to charismatic leadership can inhibit not only deliberation, but doubt of any kind.

Charismatic authority is most famously described by Max Weber, who described it as one of three ways that a ruler can be perceived as legitimate. Charismatic authority comes from the beliefs of the followers, “how followers see things” (Economy and Society page 374). In the relationship of charismatic authority, “supernatural, superhuman, or at least exceptional powers or properties are attributed to the individual” (374). Ian Kershaw summarizes how charismatic authority relies on continually good outcomes for the followers: the power of the charismatic leader is “sustained by great deeds, resounding successes, and notable achievements, which provide the repeated ‘proof’ of the leader’s ‘calling’” (Hitler Myth 9). The charismatic leader must continually surprise his followers with his “universal genius”—that’s why Hitler would grasp at petty successes (like claiming to have picked the marble personally), and refuse to admit errors.

The question is why those obvious moves would work.

And they would work partially because they had to work. The power of the charismatic leader comes from self-confidence, which is necessary for the risk-taking. Thus, the dynamic of charismatic—the need for fawning followers, the need to impress those followers, the need for self-confidence—mean that the charismatic leader him (or her) self has to be the first and most fooled about their own supernatural abilities. And, it’s hard to maintain that level of self-delusion if the people immediately surrounding the leader are even dubious, let alone critical, of the leader. Thus, dissent is treated as disloyalty, and the consequence is that the leader has to be surrounded by people who are, or who believe themselves to be, not as insightful and charismatic.

Oddly enough, it was Speer (who was not and never had been as good at his job as his post-war autohagiographies would claim) who identified the problem with Hitler’s regime: that it put and kept in place people who were weak, corrupt, and just not very good (“inferior” is the term Speer used). Hitler’s “joy” at hearing “news which suited his course of action” and “anger at news which crossed him” (Overy Interrogations 226) meant that people didn’t give him the information, insights, and suggestions that would have led to better decisions (an important theme in Kershaw’s Fateful Choices). Hitler’s emphasis on loyalty, his need to be a universal genius, his faith in himself—all those characteristics meant that he didn’t want people around him who were smarter than he, better informed, or threatening to his ego in any way. As Speer said, Hitler’s “methods of necessity led to weak collaborators for his arbitrary method of choice brought no men with proper qualifications to the right positions” and the “inferiority” of his subordinates ensured that their subordinates would also be “inferior” (Overy 226). Speer draws the conclusion that “A system which makes the selection of the leading personalities dependent solely on the judgment, arbitrary discretion, and whims of the dictators inevitably leads to such results” (Overy 226). And that is the kind of system encouraged by the model of charismatic leadership.

Charismatic leadership, despite serious problems, remains the dominant model of leadership, especially in the popular culture of self-help books and management seminars. Americans’ persistent fascination with charismatic leadership is important for scholars of rhetoric because charismatic leadership is a theory of rhetoric and deliberation. Or, more accurately, it’s a theory of rhetoric that is anti-deliberation. The fantasy of charismatic leadership is that there are people whose ability to lead (that is, both make decisions and motivate others to go along with those decisions [deliberate and persuade]) is not discipline- or field-specific. It’s universal. People with field- or discipline-specific expertise inform these leaders who are then able to discern the correct course of action because they have a kind of judgment—extraordinary insight, vision, they’re great judges of people—that makes their assessment better than anyone else’s. This is an incipiently authoritarian model of power, in that power comes from the supposedly superior judgment of the leader. For a leader to admit error, uncertainty, or ignorance, then, is to reduce their power. Dissent, disagreement, and deliberation have problematic places in systems reliant on charismatic leadership, especially the more that the leader believes in their own charismatic leadership—they come to believe the myths about themselves (see especially Kershaw Hitler Myth 264)

Scholars in leadership have tried to manage the problem of leaders who lead organizations, corporations, and countries right off a cliff (sometimes called “the Hitler Problem,” Tourish and Pinnington 149). by distinguishing between good and bad charismatic leadership on the grounds of outcome and/or the leader’s intention. Both criteria lead one into the ‘no true Scotsman’ fallacy and survivorship bias.

If good charismatic leaders are ones that get good outcomes, then Hitler was a good leader until, at the earliest December of 1941; some Germans began to lose faith in November of 1943, with the encirclement at Stalingrad; and US intelligence reports said that 25% of Germans still believed in Hitler in 1945, as Allied troops were crashing into Germany (Kershaw The End, Gellately Backing Hitler, Evans The Third Reich at War). There is the same problem with assessing leaders of corporations in terms of outcomes–what if they are getting good outcomes through processes that guarantee eventual disaster? Ken Lay of Enron, Eckhard Pfeiffer of Compaq, Adam Neumann of WeWork, Elizabeth Holmes of Theranos, Travis Kalanick of Uber—they were all celebrated as excellent examples of transformational leaders until the moment they weren’t. Until news broke about fraud, dodgy accounting, misleading claims, cultures of bullying and harassment, they were, after all, getting good outcomes–being lauded in the press, successful at finding backers, and effectively silencing dissenters (through intimidation, NDA, nuisance suits). Their methods of leading didn’t change; the outcomes did because the methods became public.

In effect, then, “good” charismatic leadership isn’t really a different management style from “bad” charismatic leadership as long as we measure by outcomes. It’s just leadership with accurate press.

There’s a similar problem with trying to distinguish good from bad charismatic leadership on the grounds of intent—if there is one thing about which people who met Hitler agreed, it was that he sincerely believed that what he was doing was right. Intending to do good, and doing good aren’t the same thing, and believing that one is on the side of good can contribute to exploitative and dishonest practices. The problem with much scholarship on charismatic leadership is that there is a “no true Scotsman” quality about it (leaders who are exposed as exploitative were never really charismatic leaders) as well as survivorship bias (only looking at leaders who seem to be getting good outcomes).

So, why am I talking to scholars of rhetoric about a leadership model backed by scholarship that is largely “no true Scotsman” and survivorship bias? Because, the rhetoric and ideology of charismatic leadership is probably second only to the just world model (in its most powerful form—prosperity gospel) in terms of frames from within which Americans imagine the possibilities, responsibilities, and stases of political discourse. Scholars who care about rhetoric as a critical project, as something that could help people deliberate better, need to understand the extent to which the rhetoric about charismatic leadership pathologizes (and sometimes feminizes) what scholars of deliberation promote as useful and effective deliberation.

Hitler’s rhetoric worked because the people in his inner circle made sure it worked, because he had a wickedly effective propaganda machine that continually presented him as someone who, as Rush Limbaugh said about Trump, “has excellent instincts,” despite all the evidence to the contrary. A large number of Americans think deliberation is unnecessary because the correct course of action (which just happens to benefit them or fulfill their political agenda) is obvious, and anyone who disagrees with them is villainous or the dupe of villainous entities (a way of thinking about politics not restricted to one position). A concerningly large number of Americans believe that the right course of action is to put in positions of power decisive people who get the real people, will refuse to compromise, and are willing to violate any norms of discourse, fairness, process, accountability, precedence, even legality in order to enact the policy every reasonable person knows is right. We are in a world in which “disruptive” is an end in and of itself.

In other words, a large number of people, all over the political spectrum, don’t want a democracy because they don’t want inclusive deliberation, compromise, negotiation, and accountability. They want their way, and they want violence if they can’t get it. Rhetoric is, at its best, the discipline of democratizing deliberation, the alternative to violence. The rhetoric of charismatic leadership is anti-deliberation; its cultural dominance explains a lot, I’m arguing, about our current culture of demagoguery. American worshipping (and I use that word deliberately) of charismatic leadership explains many otherwise odd things about our current political situation.

Speer’s insight was that charismatic leadership is always at least a little at odds with an administration of hiring the best people. The more that we value charismatic leadership as the best kind of leadership, the more that we sideline inclusive deliberation and accountability as political goods.

Passages from Ian Kershaw’s “The Hitler Myth”

“The extensified fragmentation of Weimar politics and eventual decline into little more than interest politics in the face of mounting internal crisis, entirely delegitimized the State system itself, wholly discredited pluralist politics, and paved the way for a full acceptance–already by 1932 of around 13 million Germans–of a new basis of unity represented in an entirely novel political form personalized in Hitler’s ‘charismatic’ leadership.

” In such conditions as prevailed in the last phase of the Weimar Republic, of the total discrediting of a State system based upon pluralist politics, the ‘functional’ leadership of the bureaucrat and the Party political politician as the representative of the ‘rational-legal’ form of political domination, imposing laws and carrying out functions for which they are not personally responsible and with which they are not identifiable, lost credibility. Salvation could only be sought with a leader who possessed personal power and was prepared to take personal responsibility, sweeping away the causes of misery and the faceless politicians and bureaucrats who prevail over it, and seeming to impose his own personal power upon the force of history itself [….] (255)

Hitler’s “well-documented fear of personal popularity and the corresponding growth in instability of the regime is further testimony of his awareness of the centrality of his integrative force of his role as Fuhrer. This integration was largely affective, for the most part forging psychological or emotional rather than material bonds. But its reality can scarcely be doubted.” (The Hitler Myth 257)

What do Followers want?

Eichmann on trial in Israel

I’ve known a lot of people, both personally and virtually, who were Followers. Sometimes they changed churches multiple times, sometimes philosophies, political ideologies, identities (like the guy I knew in college who flailed around from preppie to Che-Marxist to tennis fanatic—each with an entirely new wardrobe), with each new identity/community the one to which they were fully committed.

I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with changing wardrobes, identities, churches, even religions. People should change. What made (and makes) these people different is how they talk(ed) about each new conversion—this group was perfect, this group made them feel complete, this group/ideology answered all their questions, gave meaning to their lives, was something to which they could commit with perfect certainty.

That they went through this process multiple times, and kept failing to find a community/ideology that continued to satisfy them never made them doubt the quest, nor doubt that this time they found it. And I thought that was interesting. Each of these people was just someone in my circle of acquaintance for a few years, and I eventually lost track of them—in three cases because they’d joined cults.

There were (are) a lot of interesting things about these people, not just that their continued disenchantment never made them reconsider their goals, but also that they didn’t see themselves as followers at all, let alone Followers. They saw themselves as independent people, critical thinkers, autonomous individuals of good judgment—who were continually searching for, and temporarily finding, a group or ideology that enabled them to surrender all judgment and doubt. That’s a paradox.

In the mid-thirties, Theodore Abel, an American sociologist, offered a prize of 400 German marks for “the best” personal narrative of someone who had joined the Nazis prior to 1933—essentially a conversion narrative. In 1938, he published a book about it. The Nazis sounded like my various acquaintances, not in terms of being Nazis, but as far as simultaneously seeing (and representing) themselves as autonomous individuals of purely independent judgment who were seeking a totalizing group experience—one that demanded pure loyalty and complete submission.

They were Followers.

In the Platonic dialogue Gorgias, Socrates gets into an argument with two people who want to study rhetoric so that they can control the masses and thereby become powerful, perhaps even a tyrant. When Socrates asks why, one of them answers, more or less, “For the power. D’uh.” And Socrates says, “Does the tyrant really have the power?” Socrates points out that the tyrant is, in a way, being controlled by the masses he’s trying to control. He can’t, for instance, advocate what he really thinks is best, but only what he thinks his base will go along with.

It’s a typically paradoxical Socratic argument, but there’s something to it. The tyrant can only succeed as long as he (or she—not an option Socrates and the others considered) gives the Followers what they want. In other words, if we care about tyrants, we should see the source of power as Followers. Instead of asking why tyrants (or demagogues) do, we should ask what Followers want. So, what do Followers want?

Here’s the short version. They want a leader who speaks and acts decisively for them, who is a “universal genius,” and whose continued success at crushing and shaming opponents not only gives them “agency by proxy” in that shaming and crushing, but confirms the followers’ excellent judgment in having chosen to follow, and who is supported by total loyalty.

That’s the short version. Here’s the longer.

They want a leader who is a “universal genius,” not in the sense of a polymath (someone trained or educated in multiple fields), but in the sense of a person who has a capacity for seeing the right answer in any situation, without training, or expertise, or prior knowledge. This genius can lecture actual experts on those experts’ fields, correct their errors, see solutions they’ve overlooked simply because of his extraordinarily brilliant ability to see.

Followers’ model of leaderhips assumes that there is a right answer, and that’s something else that the followers want—the erasure of a particular kind of uncertainty. They don’t mind the uncertainty of a gamble, as long as the leader expresses confidence in his ability to succeed at what is obviously to him the right course of action. They mind the uncertainty of a situation that might not have a single right answer, or in which an answer isn’t obvious to them, or, even more triggering, in which the right answer isn’t obvious to anyone. That anger and anxiety are heightened if they are responsible for making the choice, since now they face the prospect of being shamed if they turn out to be wrong.

Avoiding shame is important to Followers, and they often associate masculinity with decisiveness. Not just the decisiveness of making a decision quickly (they don’t always require quick decisions), but of deciding to take action, to do something, powerful, dramatic, clear. Followers like things to be black and white, and they want a leader whose actions are similarly stark, and who advocates those actions in similarly stark terms. Followers don’t like nuance, hedging, or subtlety, but that doesn’t mean they reject all kinds of complexity.

They don’t mind complexity of a particular kind. Followers can enjoy if the leader explains things in ways that don’t quite make sense, or endorse an incoherently complicated conspiracy theory—the leader’s ability to understand things they can’t confirms their faith that he is a genius. That the leader is confidently saying something that doesn’t quite sense is taken by Followers to mean that, while things might seem complicated to the follower, they are clear to the leader. Thus, the leader has a direct connection to the ways of the universe–universal genius. Not quite making sense confirms that perception of the leader as a person who clearly sees what is unclear to others, but hedging or nuance would suggest that the leader does not perceive things perfectly clearly, and that is unacceptable in the leader.

Followers’ sense of themselves as people with excellent judgment—autonomous thinkers who are completely submitting their judgment to the leader–requires that the leader always be confident, clear, and describe issues in black and white terms.

This part is hard to explain. These Followers I knew kept looking for a system of belief that would mean they were not only never wrong, but never unsure, never in danger of being wrong, of being shamed. And, like many people, they equated clarity with certainty and certainty with being right, and they equated nuance and hedging with uncertainty, and uncertainty with being more likely to be wrong. Thus, a leader who says, “This is absolutely true–even if it isn’t– is more trustworthy than one who hedges because the first leader has more confidence. Being confident is more important than being accurate. (“It’s a higher truth,” Followers tell me.)

It’s interesting that, sometimes, a leader can take a while to make a decision, but, when he does make it, he has to announce his decision in unequivocal terms and enact it immediately, since that signals clarity of purpose and confidence. To put his decision into the world of deliberation and disagreement would be to allow the decision of a genius to be muddled, compromised, and dithered. Followers mistake quick action justified by over-confidence for a masculine and decisive response. They mistake recklessness for decisiveness–because they admire recklessness, since it signals faith, will, and commitment.

Followers need the leader to give them plausible narratives that guarantee success through strength, will, and commitment. So, what happens when the leader fails? At that point, we get scapegoating and projection. Oddly enough, Followers can tolerate complicated conspiracy narratives, even ones they can’t entirely follow, as long as the overall gist of the narrative is simple: we are good people entitled to everything we want, and They are the ones keeping us from getting it. We are blameless.

Followers don’t care if the leader lies. They like it. They don’t feel personally lied to, and they like that the leader can get away with lying—they admire that degree of confidence, and the shamelessness. They want a shameless leader. They want a leader who isn’t accountable; they want one without restraints. They don’t see the leader engaging in quid pro quo, violating the law, or even openly lining his pocket as a problem, let alone corruption. They think that’s what power is for. And, as with the lying, they admire the shamelessness.

They also like if the leader says ridiculously impossible things; they like the hyperbole. They think it signals passionate commitment to their cause because it is unrestrained.

They don’t expect the leader to be loyal to individuals, although the leader demands perfect loyalty from individuals, and Followers demand perfect loyalty from the leader’s subordinates. If leader’s aides betray the leader in any way, such as revealing that the leader is incompetent, Followers are outraged, even if everything the aide says is true.

This part is also hard to explain, so I’ll try to explain. A Follower I knew was on the edges of a cult run by a man who called himself various things, including Da Free John. At one point, Da Free John had followers who came forward and accused him of, among other things, egregious sexual harassment. Those accusations inspired my friend to get more involved with the cult. When I asked about the accusations, he was angry with the people who had made the accusations. His argument was something along the lines of, “They knew what they were getting into, and they betrayed him.” In other words, as far as I could tell, he was willing to grant the sexual harassment, but blamed the victims, not just for being victims, but for being disloyal enough to complain about it.

Albert Speer was condemned for his disloyalty, as though he should not have admitted to any flaws in Hitler (I think condemning him for his being a lying liar who lied is reasonable criticism, but not disloyalty). Victims of abuse by church officials are regularly condemned for their disloyalty, as though that’s the biggest problem.

Followers pride themselves on their ability to be loyal, and they will remain loyal as long as the leader continues to be a beacon of confidence, certainty, decisiveness. That commitment can even withstand some serious failures on the part of the leader, for a few reasons. The most important, mentioned above, is they refuse to listen to any criticism of the leader, even if made by informed people (such as close aides). Followers only pay attention to pro-leader media, and they dismiss as “biased” any media (or figure) critical of their leader. This dismissing of criticism of the leader as “biased” is not only motivism, but ensures that Followers remain in informational enclaves, ones that will spiral into in-group amplification (aka, “rhetorical radicalization“).

If the leader does completely fail, they are likely to blame his aides, rather than him (as happened with a large number of Germans in regard to Hitler). To admit the leader was fallible would be to admit that the Follower had bad judgment, and that’s not acceptable.

So, what I’m saying is that Followers are people who put perfect faith in a leader, a faith that is impervious to disproof, and they refuse to look at any evidence that their loyalty might be displaced. The conventional way to describe that kind of relationship is blind loyalty, but they don’t think they have blind loyalty (they think the out-group does). They think their loyalty is rational and clear-eyed because they believe they have the true perception of the leader, one that comes from an accurate assessment of his traits and accomplishments. They believe the leader is transparent to them.

But, if this isn’t blind loyalty, since they refuse to look at anything outside of their pro-leader media, it’s certainly blindered loyalty. And it generally ends badly.