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The Totalitarian Mindset: Where Democracies Go to Die

Psychological processes underlying a slide toward authoritarianism can be observed in the U.S. today.

From a historical, socio-political angle, what we are witnessing now in the U.S., stemming from what has been labeled "Trumpism" by some political scientists, is not new. The intimidation and silencing of opposition; the attack on truth in the name of ideology; the increasingly toxic tribalism; the strategic and cynical demonizing of disagreeable “others;” the metastasizing moral and civic corruption; the bubbling violence in discourse and on the streets; the civic institutions bullied into compliance; the acquiescent courts; the cult of personality; the nihilistic march toward authoritarianism—it’s all been done before. We’ve seen it throughout history. The script is similar; the moves expected, as is the outcome. And yet the process can appear maddeningly unstoppable.

As I have written here before, psychologists have long been interested in this facet of our species’ internal architecture: the ability, willingness—even the urge and desire—to shed reason, rationality, civility, freedom, and tolerance in favor of a brutal fever dream of revenge, self-righteousness, destruction, and domination.

Part of the answer appears to reside in the tension inherent in our existence: On one hand, we are a curious species; we crave variety, novelty, and a variety of options and choices. Evolution, after all, only works in the context of diversity, of multiple, constantly competing adaptations from which the most effective is selected.

On the other hand, living amidst competition, diversity, complexity, and novelty also alarms us; a plurality of options and the attendant endemic uncertainty gnaw at our psyche. We long for the effortlessness of simplicity, certainty, purity, and the comfort of knowing.

The diverse, fragmented, complex, and demanding cacophony of the world can become threatening. When that happens, we may respond by longing for simplicity, certainty, and purity. Achieving those comforting states requires shifts in our thinking, perception, and attention. In other words, we must switch into a new state of mind.

Alfonso Montuori, a professor in the Transformative Inquiry Department at California Institute of Integral Studies, calls this "the totalitarian mindset." In a 2004 article, Montuori explains the basic aspects of this mindset.

First, the forces that seek to activate the mindset—often political factions seeking influence—move to frame the social situation as “an emergency.” This urgent threat justifies the pressure to denounce ambiguity, silence criticism, and get everyone to fall in line against the threat, lest they be condemned as unpatriotic and branded as traitors.

ASPhotohrapy for Pixabay
Source: ASPhotohrapy for Pixabay

The totalitarian mindset is primed via various paths of influence. On the physical plane, the mindset requires a sense of physical danger, a tangible threat (“they are coming to hurt us, replace us, take our jobs,” etc.).

In addition, an affective component is engaged, as the perception of danger and being under assault produces emotional arousal, manifesting as fear and outrage. Emotional arousal is a necessary precursor for action.

The sense of emergency also constricts our cognitive space, as action appears to be needed now. No time for deliberation, debate, double-checking, nuance, contemplation, or hesitation.

Complexity, doubt, and ambiguity produce a heavy cognitive load. The totalitarian mindset simplifies, clarifies, and directs decisive action. This is experienced as relief from tension and is, hence, gratifying.

The totalitarian mindset is characterized by several predictable psychosocial maneuvers. First is outgroup scapegoating and superstition. The outgroup need not be another tribe. It can well be a part of our tribe that we feel threatened by (say, Jews in 1930s Germany, or "woke liberals" in the U.S.). Nothing binds people together and propels them into action better than an outside threat, a loathsome and menacing "other." The outgroup is then characteristically endowed with mythological, nefarious powers, the better to cast all blame upon them.

Next is black-or-white thinking—the oversimplification of all continua into either-or, us vs. them constructions. This simplifies thinking, and since complex thinking is effortful, it is experienced as relief. The world is now reduced to one question: are you with us or against us? Behavioral choices, too, are simplified. If you’re with us, then you must join the effort. If you’re against us, you need to be vanquished, silenced, deported, or killed. The author notes: “No alternative perspectives are accepted… and discourse and collective thinking processes become simple, black-and-white processes of conformity.”

Soon enough, the procedures of submission are set in motion. Outside threats bring a desire for a savior and for group coherence. Once the savior is identified, they become the totem, a representation of the group. As such, they are imbued by group members with projected qualities they wish for their group—power, courage, wisdom, righteousness. Pluralism, democracy, and debate are replaced by rigid hierarchy, blind loyalty, and autocratic rule. The leader will define reality; facts will become enemy propaganda. The rule of law is replaced by the law of the ruler.

At the same time, pressures toward what the author calls “unification” intensify; grey areas and complexities of the human condition and relationship are abandoned for a simplified identity: we are in this together against the threat. Introspection, debate, and self-doubt are banished as signs of weakness or disloyalty. After all, such operations may lead to questioning, to doubt, to hesitation, to subjectivity. The totalitarian mindset abhors subjectivity; it wants objectivity—one truth, decided by the leader, and followed blindly.

This is why any cultural institutions (and individuals) prone to thinking critically and independently (artists, comedians, investigative reporters, intellectuals) must be silenced, lest they undermine group cohesiveness or point out evidence of aspects of reality that contradict the words of the leader. Science is marked for suppression, since it often shows us facts that contradict our beliefs and rigid ideologies, as well as points to our ignorance, thus undermining the illusion of certainty.

Once the totalitarian mindset has taken over the country—a process that’s often surprising in its speed and velocity—the initial effects are often euphoric for the in-group. The thrill of consolidated power is intoxicating; the relief of certainty and clarity soothes and reassures. The effects on the outgroup are inverse, if no less dramatic: confusion, denial, and disbelief ("this can't be happening"), disorientation, and, before long, panic. The end, alas, is without exception tragic for everyone.

At its core, the totalitarian mindset constitutes an attempt to solve real problems by denying and distorting reality. Just as individual delirium and delusion are destructive to the sufferer and to those around them, so are national delirium and delusion destructive to both in- and out-groups. Historically, totalitarian regimes have ushered in dark times of violence, oppression, and devastation.

By and large, these regimes tend to remain in power for many years: 12 in the case of Nazi Germany (1933–1945), 29 in the case of the Soviet Union under Stalin (1924–1953), 18 years for Mussolini’s Italy (1925–1943), 27 years in the Mao’s People's Republic of China (1949–1976), 75 years for North Korea (1948 and counting):

By and large, they end either in violence (Romania, Nazi Germany, Italy, Libya, Sudan, Guinea, Iraq, Egypt), a relatively peaceful army-led coup (Portugal, Philippines), or a civilian revolt resulting in the redrawing of borders (Soviet Union, Czechoslovakia, East Germany).

Which one of these awaits us? We—or perhaps more likely, our children—are about to find out.

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