Real men don’t ask fascists to solve their problems, they reject fascism

Kamala Harris
Kamala Harris

A note on Harris’s closing argument

By Anand Giridharadas

Two things have grown increasingly clear: Donald Trump is a fascist, and he is winning the support of most American men. But it doesn’t have to be like this. There is a way out.

Yesterday, a breathtaking report arrived in The New York Times. John Kelly, Trump’s former chief of staff, warned in the starkest terms that Trump is a fascist with a real authoritarian vision and confirmed the murmurs about Trump being jealous not to have had the kind of generals Hitler did.

What Kelly is doing is the opposite of gaslighting, acknowledging as a former insider what many of us have long been saying: that Trump is a fascist, saying and doing fashy things. Winkingly encouraging violence. Goading on and praising insurrectionists. Dehumanizing Others. Calling for the use of the military against civilian opponents. Promising a second term centered on vendettas and retribution. Peddling racial supremacy. Pledging to be a dictator on day one. Telling violent allies to stand back and stand by. Vowing that if you vote for him, you won’t have to vote again — and that if you don’t, it will be a bloodbath.

The distressing thing is that a majority of American men are looking at all of this and saying, “Yeah, let’s do that.” We are dude-bro-ing our way into democratic death.

To be clear, a majority of American men have voted Republican in most presidential cycles for a very long time. What is happening now is not Vice President Kamala Harris failing to win over men. What is happening is that the Republican Party being taken over by fascists has turned out not to be a dealbreaker for a majority of men.

The Democrats’ — and small-D democracy’s — men problem has engendered all sorts of discussion and debate and some amount of understandable frustration. As the writer Charlotte Clymer put it a few days ago, “Can someone please explain to me what exactly it is that young men want to hear from VP Harris that she’s not already saying? And please be specific.”

The problem has also triggered unusual organizing efforts, such as the writer and social media maven Liz Plank’s efforts to use social events where men chat up women to highlight Project 2025’s dangers to all Americans’ sexual liberty, including men’s.

What, if anything, can the Harris campaign do about this problem in the final days? Is there, as Clymer asks, any language that can be spoken that hasn’t? Any outreach that can be done that hasn’t? Any policies that could be rolled out that haven’t?

In recent days, the Harris campaign has tackled the problem head-on, announcing new policies and messages aimed at Black voters and Latino voters in particular.

But if the material dimension of the problem has gotten adequate attention, the affective dimension of the problem has not.

If you spend time traveling this country and talking to people and reporting on communities, if you have the lens of a cultural observer and not only a policy enthusiast, what becomes clear is that, when it comes to men and their enthusiasm for fascism now, the affective dimension may be the dominant one.

Which is to say, a lot of men have been persuaded — brainwashed may be a better word — that the future is something that should terrify them. That the future mocks them, thumbs their nose at them. That it will silence them, constrict them, devalue them, censor them, starve them, obviate them, reduce them to jokes.

Now, suspend for a moment your quibbling about whether any of these feelings are true. In a democracy, feelings very quickly become facts. Part of the deal of living in a self-governing society is accepting that your neighbor’s feelings become your reality. The burden of citizenship is accepting that what is not your fault — and may not even be real — often becomes your problem.

A lot of what a lot of men are going through right now is simply the inner experience of the old line, “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.”

And one of the great sweeping mistakes of our era has been assuming that, because certain kinds of change are morally correct, they go down easy. Because certain destinations are good destinations socially and ethically and arc-of-moral-universe-wise, any experience of discomfort with the journey is a private problem to be suffered alone and given little outside help.

So now here we are in a country that is changing a lot, has changed a lot — indeed, has, over the past few generations, done more to change the status and rights and dignity of women than hundreds of prior generations did. And we have done the right things while failing to manage social and psychological change — failing to manage the minds and hearts of those who experience these worthy changes as headwinds.

This seems to me central to the story of how a majority of men could do what populations bewildered by change and anxious about the future and their place in it have done: support fascism, support dictatorship, support tyranny to smash it all.

Vice President Harris is a prosecutor. She has delivered many a closing argument. She knows what closing arguments involve. In court, they are actually a rare chance where you get to speak on the level of affective. In the rest of a crimianl proceeding, it’s just the facts. Just the evidence. But in the closing argument, you can make meaning. You can tell a story. You can move people.

Because this is the only country I have, I am determined that Harris and her running mate, Tim Walz, and the wider pro-democracy movement she represents uses these last days to address part of a closing argument to American men. Not only to roll out policy to them, though policy is vital. Also to speak to them on the level of the gut.

Yes, change is scary. Yes, it sometimes feels like you don’t know how to be these days. Don’t know what to say. Yes, it’s tempting to shake things up when you’re scared. When you feel attacked by the future itself.

But don’t. Because men worthy of the word don’t outsource the care and protection of their families to dictators. Men worthy of the word don’t depend for their self-esteem on the crushing and marginalizing of Others. Men worthy of the word don’t need women to be locked in the fourteenth century legally to feel whole. Men worthy of the word don’t hand over the keys to the future to billionaires who pull the strings.

However one might reject their premises, some fraction of the mass of American men who have succumbed to the lure of Trump’s fascism need to feel seen and heard and recognized in their stress and anxiety and sense of dislocation in the future that is coming. And they need to be invited into a contrary story of progress. Saving the country from tyranny needs to become aspirational for men. Not a lecture.

They need to remember, and become excited to say, that real men reject fascism.


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Source: Real men reject fascism – by Anand Giridharadas – The.Ink

Totem and Taboo

 

An interview on politics, music, journalism, tech, and our not-so-inevitable doom.

 
By Sarah Kendzior | Oct 21
 

The oldest store on Route 66 in Missouri closed last month. I don’t remember the last time I visited. But I will always remember that it was the last time.

The Totem Pole Trading Post opened in 1933 and moved down the Mother Road until landing in the small city of Rolla. I was in Rolla to see a geology museum rumored to have minerals shaped like a Missouri breakfast — bacon and biscuits — but it was closed. I went to the Trading Post because it had always been there, and would always be there, and found that it was there no more.

*          *          *

The door was unlocked but the lights were off.

“Are you open?” I asked, confused, looking at a sign with a buxom redhead cooing “Y’ALL COME IN NOW” and the cavernous empty space behind her.

An old man sat on a bench, packing items in a box. The Trading Post is a junk store, or in local parlance, an “antique mall.” I am always buying crap — excuse me, treasures — at antique malls. The Trading Post was king of the road.

“We’re closed.”

“Today?”

“Forever,” the owner said. He sounded like he didn’t want to talk about it. “If you’d come earlier, you could have gone to the retirement sale. Now we’re done. Two generations. My father’s store.”

“I used to come here,” I said. “Not looking for anything in particular, just looking for a place to look around.”

The man looked bored. Unlike his wares, I was interchangeable.

“Not much to look at now,” he said, and motioned to the door, where I exited.

I stood behind rusted gas pumps and gazed skyward at billboards advertising moonshine and moccasins. Like other Route 66 landmarks, The Totem Pole Trading Post borrowed Native American iconography as the road tore apart indigenous lands. *

It might have felt like poetic justice that I’d found it shuttered on Indigenous People’s Day. But it didn’t. It felt like wandering into a wound.

The Americana icon had collapsed so gradually, no one noticed. Maybe no one was left to spread the word. Maybe I’d have known if one local newspaper, The Riverfront Times, hadn’t replaced its staff with AI robots and the other, The St. Louis Post-Dispatch, hadn’t downsized into a shadow of its former self.

Antique malls sell serendipity and safeguard memory. There’s no organization, no order, no internet — just life after death. Bound books and free spirits: a return to the past, where possibility lives now that the future has been stolen.

I wander halls of history, radio waves tuned to a dead station. Sometimes a ghost plants an object before me, so I know what to do next. These secondhand store specters have been far more useful than my PhD in providing guidance.

I’m not joking. In 2021, I was in Prairie Archives, a sprawling used bookstore in Springfield, Illinois, browsing in a low-key panic. I had a book to write and no clue what to say. I was sick to death of Trump, sick to death of death, and needed a change.

“I’m going to cover my eyes,” I told my kids. “You two walk me through the store and put me in front of a shelf. Whatever page of the book I open, that’s what my next book is about.”

They did as they were told, guiding me through the maze of aisles and spinning me around for good measure. Eyes closed, I grabbed a book, opened it, and exclaimed “Oh, fuck!”

It was a Hunter S. Thompson essay collection from the 1980s. The page I landed on was about Donald Trump and Iran-Contra villain Adnan Khashoggi.

I bought it and spent the rest of 2021 writing They Knew, a book about real conspiracies from the 1980s and how they are marketed as “conspiracy theories” so facts are never found and justice is never served.

Missouri has no shortage of junk stores. But I wonder what I would have found at the Trading Post if I’d gotten there in time. Maybe something to tell me what to do, because I sure as hell don’t know when my country is dying the same way. No fanfare, no pinpoint. Slow and steady surrender, bit by bit — murder disguised as death.

Murdering the United States until it is so unrecognizable, even the mementos are gone.

 

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Georgia, Jimmy, and the Confederacy of Dunces Ready to Steal This Election

Michael Moore with President Jimmy Carter

Real Bombs, F-Bombs, and President Carter’s Mission to Win Georgia

By Michael Moore

A little over a week ago, a few details from Bob Woodward’s new book conveniently leaked to the press, including some downright dirty words from our President, Joe Biden, to describe Benjamin Netanyahu, the thrice-criminally indicted (so far) Prime Minister of Israel.

According to Woodward, Joe Biden has a very low opinion of Netanyahu. In one section, Woodward explains that Biden believes Bibi has “no strategy” — a fair criticism when a country’s leader pulls back his army from a border where on the other side of the fence two million people are wallowing in an open air prison — and then said-leader feigns surprise when the people who escaped from that prison are able to freely slaughter 1200 of his people whom he was supposed to be protecting. Actually, that may imply that the leader did have a strategy, which was, it seemed, to sacrifice his own people to an almost certain death, leaving many Israelis to wonder was there something in it for him? Ouch. Too harsh? Too soon? Or just too Bibi? Whatever the pain and the sorrow we all feel, this madness was preventable, it doesn’t need to continue, and please, everyone, turn away from those who say this is a lost cause. If you believe that, then we all are doomed.

Elsewhere in the book, Woodward reports that at one point Biden was screaming at Netanyahu, “Bibi, what the fuck?” after Israel bombed Lebanon this summer. Boy, that must’ve had Netanyahu quakin’ in his boots.

Earlier in the year, Woodward writes that Biden groused to his top staff: “That son of a bitch, Bibi Netanyahu, he’s a bad guy. He’s a bad fucking guy!” 

President Biden also told his top aides, “18 of the 19 people who work for Netanyahu are liars.”

Some people immediately doubted Woodward’s accounts, as though the co-Watergate scribe just likes to make things up. But I didn’t. These quotes sounded exactly like a guy I know: Joe Biden, the man from Scranton.

The first time I met Joe Biden it was 20 years ago, at the 2004 Democratic Convention in Boston. My film, Fahrenheit 9/11, was a surprise summer blockbuster (it had beaten the previous opening weekend box office record held by Star Wars: Episode VI – Return of the Jedi), and it had made the covers of Time magazine and Rolling Stone. I received a personal invitation to attend the Convention and sit in the presidential box with President Jimmy Carter. Sitting in that box with Mr. Carter — he told me to call him “Jimmy,” but I just couldn’t do it — and his wife Rosalynn (Mrs. Carter), the former President told me stories, spun yarns, made me laugh and critiqued the Democratic Party that was in the middle of helping our nation bumble itself into a disastrous and deadly decade-long war in Iraq, despite all the obvious lies the other party had used to sell it.

And during those hours in the convention hall, various people stopped by to say hello. One of them was Sen. Joe Biden. When he saw me, he greeted me heartily: “Michael Fucking Moore!” and shook my hand and gave me a big bear hug. Then he exclaimed, “FLINT MEETS SCRANTON! I was raised in the Flint of Pennsylvania!,” he said and then proceeded to drop a dozen F-bombs over the next 20 minutes. After all, this is the same guy who got caught on a hot mic just a few years later telling President Obama during the Obamacare signing, “This is a big fucking deal!”

So when I read the quotes from Woodward’s book, the F-ing attitude of Joe F-ing Biden rang very, very true. Maybe Joe should think about that now. Is Netanyahu “a bad fucking guy”? Fuck yes! Did Joe Biden call him that? You’re damn fucking right he did! I don’t know, maybe from now until January 20th, the only bombs Joe should be sending Bibi are more F-Bombs.

Back in February 2023, I wrote about my time with President Carter. This was when he and Rosalynn were first entering hospice care. I didn’t know if that was the last time I’d be able to get him a message. Sadly, Mrs. Carter passed away last November at the age of 96. But President Carter has pressed on — just like every moment of his life — on a mission.

Last month, President Carter’s grandson, Jason, told the press that his grandfather held a singular focus. President Carter would turn 100 years old on October 1st, 2024 (the first president in American history to live to 100), but that his grandfather was “more excited to cast his ballot for Vice President Harris.”

The younger Carter continued: “It would be an incredible story at the end of his hundred-year life, to have grown up in the segregated South, and for one of his last political acts to be helping elect a Black woman as the President of the United States, I do think it would be important.”

On October 1st, President Carter turned 100. And just this past Tuesday, October 15th, early voting in Georgia began, and one of the first people to cast his vote for President Kamala Harris was… President Jimmy Carter, fulfilling his wish to live long enough to do just that:

But Jimmy was not alone.

He was but one of 328,000 people who voted early in Georgia on Tuesday. This was a record number — more than doubling the previous record, set in 2020. And the next day, Wednesday the 16th, another 300,000 people voted in Georgia!

The Biden/Harris campaign won Georgia by 11,779 votes in 2020, and this year, a 100-year-old former President set his mind to staying alive long enough to vote again, just to be one more vote that couldn’t be denied. A man who dedicated much of his post-presidency to ensuring Democracy around the world, now willing himself to stay on Earth long enough to ensure it here at home.

What if we all had, in us, what Jimmy Carter has in himself? The absolute, unstoppable commitment to do whatever needs to be done in these next 18 days. I mean, if he could do that from a 20-month stay in a hospice (i.e., the place where you are supposed to go to die in the next week), what is our excuse? “Ohhhhh, knocking on all these doors is killing me!” No it’s not. He’s actually dying. You making 5 more calls to Pennsylvania or Georgia is only cutting into a few minutes of your NCIS: New Orleans time. Listen up! We are all in the French Resistance (non-violent battalion)! A Nazi division will be crossing the bridge entering our town at 1600 hours. I know you have couple’s therapy at 3pm, but that can wait. The fate of our country is at stake. We have to take out that bridge. The two of you should just try to get along until mid-November. Then seek help. But for now, we all have a job to do. And if a 100-year-old man can look into the face of God and say, “I’m just not ready to go yet, sorry, Bubba,” then the least we can do is make that list of the non-voters we’re taking to Early Voting this weekend — and then friggin’ do it.

We must defeat all fascists. Four years ago, Trump and his goons tried to overturn the vote in Georgia that Biden and Harris had legitimately won. But, like almost everything else Donald Trump does, it turned out he was really bad at committing treason. The worst. No one has ever been more bad at committing treason than Donald Trump.

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The “Dark Ambition” of Trump Would “Eat Your Dreams”