We’ve heard so many warnings in recent months about the rise of fascism in American culture, but do you remember the provocative words of Toni Morrison on the subject from three decades ago? They spark a different kind of reflection and resistance today. She told us back then that American history reveals the culprits — they’re not just the usual suspects — as well as the secret to prevailing over them.
In March 1995, in a convocation speech at Howard University, the author contended that the descent into fascism “is not a jump,” but “one step, and then another, and then another.” These steps include inventing an enemy to divert attention from more serious matters, tossing ad hominem insults their way, getting media to reinforce the enemy’s degraded status, attacking those sympathetic to the enemy, pathologizing and criminalizing the enemy, and blanketing the entire process in silence.
Those who diagnose an autocratic bent in the present administration can point to plenty of the symptoms: Its leader and his acolytes have made an enemy of immigrants, Black people, LGBTQ+ folks, women, higher education, political opponents within the Republican and Democratic parties, law firms, the media and lots more. The administration uses name calling, encourages right-wing media to tear down individual and institutional reputations and to spread lies, assaults anyone who dares to defend those on the lengthy “enemies list,” revives racist and sexist mythology to erode racial and gender progress, and erects facilities to detain immigrants. The recent talk about rounding up “the worst of the worst”? The allocation of $170 billion to triple Immigration and Customs Enforcement and double detention capacity? Three decades ago, Morrison warned us that fascists “budget for and rationalize their building of holding arenas for the enemy.”
But there is a perhaps even more unnerving element of Morrison’s forensic description of fascism that many who oppose the current administration would rather not hear. Morrison argues that no one party corners the market on solutions to fascism because each is guilty of contributing to its rise. Republicans have surely courted white supremacists, but, she said, Democrats are not flawless egalitarians, nor are liberals “free of agendas for domination.”
It is perhaps difficult for antifascists today to agree with Morrison’s analysis because they are reading from a different playbook. Most current indictments of fascist belief, according to Italian cultural critic Alberto Toscano, are bound by analogy. They draw parallels between the present U.S. administration and, for instance, post-World War I Italy, where fascism was widely adopted.
Morrison chose a different vantage point. Instead of political analogy, she favored historical genealogy. If contemporary critics of fascism are thinking of Benito Mussolini and the trains he supposedly made run on time, Morrison is thinking of enslavers and slave ships. She knew that American racism is one of the most visible horsemen of fascism. She called fascism “the succubus twin” of racism.
Morrison’s clear warnings from 1995, before the current president was even a reality TV host, help us understand that fascism is hardly new, that it has flashed in furious disregard for humanity since long before the present administration, and that, as uncomfortable as it is to admit, its legacy even lingers in political parties and traditions that claim to oppose authoritarian rule. By tracing its racial roots in our culture, Morrison forces us to grapple with the fascism that has always festered here and that has reflected and reinforced racism around the globe.
This aspect of Morrison’s thinking can be especially uncomfortable because it refuses to let us off the hook after a change as superficial as an election. When we’ve been sliding toward fascism, it’s a mistake to believe that once we elect new folks, we have gotten rid of the problem. It’s bigger than one person or one party. The current president’s efforts are exposing the cowardly complicity of certain liberal strongholds as they enforce his fascist assault on social progress, especially against the goals of diversity, equity and inclusion.
Morrison’s words encourage us not to segregate the racial dimensions of fascism from the political. She invites us to learn from Black folks who battle racial fascism in America through belief, resistance and faith.
Even when we were enslaved, treated as property, liberated with few rights, forced into poverty, denied healthcare, prevented from homeownership, segregated, raped and lynched, Black folks miraculously believed even more in American ideals than most other Americans. We invested even more energy and imagination in deep democracy and insisted that our emancipation efforts would also save the nation.
We were right. Black belief in America brought the ideals of justice far closer to achievement. No matter fascism’s pall today, we can neither indulge the luxury of cynicism nor surrender to hopelessness. The Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., who valiantly fought fascism until his last breath, declared, “when you lose hope, you die.” If we believe that we can do nothing to stop the hate and harm flowing from Washington, we are defeated before we begin what seems the impossible task to defend our democracy.
It is helpful to remember that in American history, many struggles seemed impossible before we triumphed — in ways we boldly dared to hope and imagine. That is true whether it was a political novice leading the effort to break segregated transportation in a bus boycott in Montgomery, Ala., or an enslaved figure commandeering a Confederate transport ship to freedom in Charleston, S.C., before becoming a five-term congressman after the Civil War. If, as Morrison suggested, fascism creeps in steps, so, too, does antifascism.
Black folks have resisted fascism from a variety of outlooks and positions. Some embraced nonviolent civil disobedience, others echoed Black Power rhetoric, others pursued legal redress of social grievance, while still others favored armed self-defense against violent racists. There has never been a single means of resistance. We must pressure the machinery of fascism in the classroom and the courtroom, at the kitchen table, on cable news and nightly talk shows, from the legislative hall and the pulpit, at our jobs, through films and social media, with protests and other gatherings as we plan principled rebellion against glaring injustice.
Our resistance also flourishes in concert halls. Recently the greatest living entertainer, Beyoncé, fought fascism by celebrating the Black roots of country music — a genre favored by some of fascism’s most fervent advocates. She also sang “The Star-Spangled Banner” in a nod to Jimi Hendrix’s bravura rendition at Woodstock. She projected onto screens the tortured American flag whose red bleeds in grief over political suffering. And she posed as the Statue of Liberty and was draped in a sash that proclaims “The Reclamation of America.” The fight against fascism is often accompanied by the magic of Black sound.
Faith has carried the souls of Black folks through fascist peril and racist tumult. Faith has catapulted ordinary citizens into national leaders and offered many souls justification to fight against slavery and white supremacy. It has inspired many to fight for the right to vote, for fair housing, for desegregated public accommodations, for integrated transportation and schooling, for entrance into elite colleges and universities, and for economic justice.
Faith has also sustained us when murderous racists sought to eliminate Black folks from every corner of the culture and to erase every trace of Blackness from American life. Those who had faith settled on a simple yet profound proposition: If God exists, then no tyrant, dictator, ruler, autocrat or despot can thwart the divine will for the people to ultimately survive and prevail.
Morrison’s words to one graduating class at Howard are also applicable to the nation at large as it fights once more a fascist threat to our precious democracy: America “has withstood inclement weather, many, many, many times, and it will again.”
Michael Eric Dyson is a professor of African American studies at Vanderbilt University and an author, most recently co-author of “Represent: The Unfinished Fight for the Vote.”
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