"Any attempt to understand the appeal of fascism in large countries implies that we acknowledge the role of psychological factors," stated the German-Jewish social psychologist. Erich Fromm in 1941. These factors are not specifically German or, say, Italian, nor are they manifestations of a unique historical era, which is now in the distant past. Not only can the malignant political-economic-ideological climate necessary for the flourishing of fascism develop anywhere, but its emotional dynamics are present in the psyche of most human beings.
"We all have a Nazi in us," she wrote Edit Eger who survived Auschwitz, indicating, in my opinion, an almost universal reality. Many of us carry within ourselves the seeds of hatred, anger, fear, narcissistic self-love and contempt for others, which in their most toxic and extreme forms, represent dominant emotional currents, the merging of which, with enough provocation and encouragement, can create a destructive torrent that we call fascism.
It is all the more important that we understand the psychological sources of such tendencies, the basis and nature of which can be expressed in one word: trauma. In the case of fascism, severe trauma.
No one is born steeped in hatred, with unbridled rage, existential dread, or cold contempt permanently implanted in their mind or heart. These powerful emotions, when chronic, are responses to unbearable suffering endured at a time of extreme vulnerability, helplessness, and constant threat: that is, in early childhood.
A child comes into the world with the implicit expectation that he will be in safe hands, that he will be seen, heard, physically protected and emotionally nurtured, that his feelings will be accepted, recognized and confirmed. With such a "developed nest," as the psychologist aptly calls it Darcia Narvaez, we develop and maintain a strong connection with ourselves, a deep-rooted conviction about who we are, a belief in the innate goodness present in the world and an openness to love. Trauma represents a disconnection from these healthy tendencies, and in extreme cases, their defensive denial of them because they imply a vulnerability that is too great to bear. And that, in essence, is what fascism represents on an emotional level: a desperate escape from vulnerability.
If we look at the hideous demigod of fascism, Adolf Hitler, or his contemporary caricature Donald Trump, who is often compared to him - and until a few years ago, his current vice-presidential candidate, JD Vance - we will find many remarkable similarities: an incessant self-hypnotizing mendacity, distrust bordering on paranoia, insidious opportunism, a deep streak of cruelty, endless grandiosity, unaccountable impulsiveness and a devastating contempt for the weak.
Both grew up in homes with abusive fathers and mothers who were powerless to defend their children. In Hitler's case, a bright and sensitive child suffered merciless violence. Trump was exposed to the ruthless emotional dictatorship of his father, Fred the elder, which Mari, Donald's niece and a psychologist by profession, describes him as a "sociopath". "Donald Trump is a textbook example of trauma," a prominent trauma psychiatrist once told me Besel van der Kolk.
In both cases, anger and hatred represent eruptions of forbidden and therefore repressed emotions from childhood and represent compensation for a psyche that has been crushed to insignificance. In return, as the biographer writes Volker Ulrich: "Hitler... gave a decisive signal to the Germans to unleash their hatred and destructive desires". He spoke and promised to redeem those masses in his nation who also felt threatened and insignificant - to, so to speak, "make them great again".
"What they want", he wrote, "is the victory of the stronger and the destruction or unconditional surrender of the weaker". This fascist drive for dominance represents an unconscious rejection of the vulnerability of the young child and a defensive identification with the unassailable power of the abusive father.
What attracts people to such leaders? On the socioeconomic level, their own sense of exclusion, not belonging, resentment, marginalization and loss of meaning. On an emotional, psychological level, the absence of self-confidence caused by trauma and the urge to surrender to the protection of a person they perceive as "strong".
This is combined with the urge to escape responsibility by shifting the blame to some vulnerable but threatening and harmful "other" group - say, Jews, Muslims, Hispanics or Slavs - which serves as the target of one's entrenched hostility, the true sources of which lie deep in the infantile subconscious. .
American psychologist, Michael Milburn, studied children's predispositions for right-wing ideological rigidity. His research confirms that the more people were exposed to a strict parental atmosphere as young children, the more inclined they are to support authoritarian or aggressive policies, such as foreign wars, criminal laws, and the death penalty.
"Physical punishment in childhood served us as a parameter of a dysfunctional family environment," said Milburn. "We found significantly higher support for the death penalty, the use of military force, and opposition to abortion, especially among men who had experienced high levels of physical punishment, especially if they had never received psychotherapy." That discovery intrigued me.
"Psychotherapy," Milburn said, "is about the potential for questioning, for self-reflection." Questioning, something that the fascist mentality cannot bear, can soften the heart.
Studies of the central nervous system have shown that the amygdala, a small almond-shaped structure in the brain that regulates emotions such as fear, is larger in people with right-wing views. It is more active in those who favor strong protective authorities, who are suspicious of strangers and people who are different. This is a significant discovery, because we know that the emotional environment of a child in the early years has a decisive influence on the development of neural connections in the brain.
"The monster Adolf Hitler, the murderer of millions of people, the master of destruction and organized madness, did not come into the world as a monster," wrote the psychoanalyst Alis Miler. Fascism, in this sense, is an extremely human phenomenon, the result of many influences, among which, on a personal level, the most pronounced is the immeasurable suffering of a child.
The text is taken from "The Guardian", and the author has published five books that have been translated into 41 languages
Translation: NB
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