Donald Trump's Fascist Roadmap

Let's get straight to the point, without the prudishness that so often paralyzes parts of academia and the press. The word "fascist," when applied to Donald Trump, still causes shivers, provoking accusations of exaggeration, of hysterical anachronism. We are told that it is a rigid historical category, a European ghost of the 20th century that cannot, under penalty of intellectual recklessness, be invoked to describe a New York billionaire, a former star of... reality showI understand the caution. Conceptual rigor is the basis of serious thought. But the refusal to name the phenomenon for what it is, or for what it emulates with frightening precision, has become a form of complicity, an analytical paralysis that prevents us from seeing the abyss toward which the so-called "free world" is leaning.

Trumpism, of course, doesn't present itself with swastikas and black shirts—not least because that would be anachronistic and, let's face it, aesthetically poor for the age of media spectacle—but it operates from the same matrix, the same instruction manual. It's a fascism repackaged for mass consumption in the 21st century, adapted to the language of social media and nurtured in the heart of the American empire, which makes it infinitely more dangerous. As the late Umberto Eco reminded us in his celebrated essay on "Ur-Fascism," or Eternal Fascism, it's not necessary for all fourteen characteristics he listed to be present simultaneously. It only takes one of them to become the center of a nebula for the fascist rot to begin to condense. In Trump's case, the cloud is dense and dark.

Let's start with the most obvious, the cornerstone of his political architecture: the cult of tradition and the consequent rejection of modernity. The slogan “Make America Great Again” It is a masterpiece of nostalgic engineering. It doesn't refer to a specific historical period, verifiable in history books or US census data. No, it evokes a mythical past where America was white, Christian, industrial, and undeniably patriarchal. It's not a call to memory, but to a collective fantasy, a myth. This invented tradition serves as a battle horse against everything fascism detests: cosmopolitanism, intellectualism, the arts, and complexity. Modernity, with its defense of science, minority rights, and intercultural dialogue, is seen as a degeneration. Therefore, the systematic attack on climate science – culminating in the US withdrawal from the Paris Agreement, an act of geopolitical vandalism – and the declared war on the "cosmopolitan elites" of the East and West coasts are not accidents. They are the ritual of a movement that needs to destroy the present to sell the mirage of a past that never existed.

Secondly, and directly derived from the first point, we have the obsession with conspiracy and the vital need for an enemy. Fascism cannot survive without a "them" to blame for all ills. Trump's political career was, from the beginning, founded on a conspiratorial lie: the infamous campaign to prove that Barack Obama, the nation's first black president, was not born in the United States. It was the original pustule from which all subsequent poison emanated. Once in the White House, the logic expanded to create a paranoid universe. The enemy could be internal. The target of the moment was the "deep state" (deep stateA ghostly bureaucracy that supposedly sabotaged his patriotic government. The press, a prime target in any authoritarian regime, was labeled, in a phrase with populist resonance, as "the enemy of the people." And, of course, the quintessential scapegoat: the immigrant. Caravans of desperate Central Americans were portrayed as an invading horde, a threat to the purity of the nation, justifying the construction of a wall that is less a physical barrier and more a monument to xenophobia. As well documented by outlets such as... The New York Times or the British The Economist,This tactic is not aimed at solving problems, but rather at creating a state of permanent siege that justifies the power of the protective leader.

The third characteristic, perhaps the most viscerally repulsive, is the contempt for the weak and the cult of action for action's sake. In the fascist catechism, strength is a value in itself. Let us recall the grotesque scene in which Trump ordered the deportation of foreign students and academics under flimsy pretexts, including unfounded accusations of "anti-Semitism" and "threats to national security," resulting in the arbitrary detention of researchers and students without access to lawyers. Let us also remember his decision to restore the original names of military bases that honored Confederate leaders, disregarding the racist symbolism and public opposition, revealing a mentality that perpetuates divisions and contempt for democratic values. The vulnerable, the immigrants, the dissidents, the marginalized deserve only contempt.

Conversely, there is an almost youthful admiration for "strongmen," such as Putin and Kim Jong-un, even though they are declared enemies. This celebration of brute force manifests itself in the style of government: impulsive action, the breaking of diplomatic protocols, decisions made by instinct rather than deliberation. All of this is sold to the electorate as "authenticity," as the mark of a leader who "gets things done," who is not bound by the intricacies of democratic bureaucracy and the international order. It is action for action's sake, movement as an end in itself, a central characteristic that Umberto Eco identified in historical fascism.

And this display of force wasn't limited to gestures and words; it translated into a disconcertingly arbitrary foreign policy. Just recall the episode in which, through a morning tweet, Trump decided to impose 50% tariffs on Brazilian steel and aluminum. The pretext was an alleged "massive devaluation" of the Real that was supposedly harming American farmers, although we know there are several flimsy excuses and collusion with Brazilian conspirators, which I don't intend to address here. The act itself, reversing previous exemptions, was a classic example of authoritarian decisionism. It mattered little that Brazil, under Lula's government, sought to maintain an institutional and pragmatic dialogue, or that trade relations between the two countries spanned 200 years. For a leader driven by a cult of action, diplomatic tradition and respect for bilateral treaties are mere obstacles to be crushed by the spectacle of his own will.

Finally, we arrive at the most insidious tactic, the one that poisons the very well of public life: the use of “newspeak” to destroy the concept of truth. If George Orwell gave us the blueprint in 1984Trump orchestrated it with frightening flair. The expression “alternative facts,” coined by his former advisor Kellyanne Conway to defend blatant lies about the size of the crowd at the presidential inauguration, should have set off alarm bells. It was the moment when objective reality was officially declared optional. From then on, the project of epistemological demolition accelerated. Any critical reporting, however well-documented by sources, especially in alternative media, was summarily dismissed as “fake news.” The term, which originally described disinformation produced by shadowy agents, was co-opted and transformed into a weapon to discredit professional journalism. The goal of this systematic distortion of language is not just to lie; it is to create an environment where the very distinction between truth and falsehood becomes irrelevant. It is to drown the citizen in a swamp of cynicism, where the only safe haven left is the leader's word.

Donald Trump's re-election was, paradoxically, the least of our concerns. The greatest damage has already been done. Trump's rise and the resilience of his movement have normalized a set of fascist tactics on the center stage of global politics. The playbook has been tested, approved, and is now in use by autocrats around the world.

We in Brazil know this playbook intimately. We saw a president import the script almost entirely: the attack on universities and science, the war against the press, the creation of a "hate cabinet" to spread conspiracies, the nostalgia for a mythical dictatorship, the cult of weapons and brute force. The disciple may not have had the same success as the master in perpetuating himself in power, but the seed was planted and watered in fertile soil.

The danger, therefore, transcends the figure of Trump. The danger lies in the legitimization of the method. The anti-fascist struggle today, whether in Washington, Budapest, or Brasília, cannot be merely an electoral contest. It needs to be an uncompromising and passionate defense of factual truth, rational debate, empathy for the most vulnerable, and a democracy that is not afraid to be radical in its defense of institutions and human rights. Ignoring the signs, treating the script as mere metaphor, is a luxury we can no longer afford. History, as we know, has the terrible habit of repeating itself as farce, but farce, when staged, can be as tragic as the original.