Reflections on the Threat of Authoritarianism
I once believed I had a solid grasp of the political landscape. When Donald Trump began his ascent to prominence in 2015, I perceived him as a perilous yet familiar demagogue. As someone who has chronicled the lives of various presidents, I often think in historical terms, seeking parallels from the past to illuminate the present. Consequently, for several years, Trump’s use of fear, prejudice, resentment, xenophobia, and extremism reminded me of grievance-driven figures like Huey Long, Joseph McCarthy, and George Wallace. To me, he represented not a fundamental shift in American politics, but rather an escalation of existing illiberal tendencies—after all, since the Civil War, no one with such extreme views had managed to secure the presidency.
However, I was mistaken. Trump’s relentless efforts to overturn the results of the November 2020 election nearly succeeded, offering clear evidence that he is genuinely willing to act on the authoritarian threats he frequently articulates. I have come to regard him as a profound aberration in our national narrative—a man whose disdain for constitutional democracy poses a unique and significant threat to our republic.
I make this assertion not as a member of the Democratic Party, for I am not one. My journey into the world of American politics began with a childhood fascination for Ronald Reagan, whose public demeanor resonated with me. At the tender age of 10, I lacked the sophistication to fully appreciate the ramifications of supply-side economics. Later, I became the biographer of George H.W. Bush. Throughout my life, I have cast ballots for both Republican and Democratic candidates, and I have devoted a considerable portion of my career to studying and writing about the presidency, an institution that John F. Kennedy once described as “the vital center of action.”
As a result, drawing analogies comes naturally to me. Yet, with increasing frequency, I find myself concerned that seeking historical comparisons for Trump carries its own risks. No figure in American history has ever wielded such influence over a significant segment of the population. To suggest otherwise undermines the urgency that this moment demands.
I wish I could claim that my concerns are exaggerated, but they are not. In our binary political system, casting a vote for Kamala Harris equates to endorsing a democratic ethos that allows us to pursue meaningful lives and prosperity under the rule of law. Conversely, a vote for Donald Trump jeopardizes that very ethos.
Democracy is inherently fragile and deeply human; its success hinges on how effectively— or ineffectively—Americans navigate their own desires. Nothing in the past decade indicates that a re-elected Trump would feel compelled to rein in his impulses. The fact that his coup attempt failed should not render the threat he poses any less serious; rather, the mere attempt should serve as a wake-up call to safeguard our constitutional order. Dismissing his radical rhetoric and the concerns expressed by those who worked alongside him, who worry about his dictatorial ambitions, is to place trust in a man who has already demonstrated a preference for his own interests over those of the nation, prioritizing personal aggrandizement over fidelity to the Constitution.
