There is reason to believe that it is not a coincidence. After the Charlottesville tragedy, Trump referred to “the egregious display of hatred, bigotry and violence on many sides, on many sides.” Though he walked his comments back in a prepared statement, condemning racism and calling out alt-right groups by name, he later doubled back down, equating the actions of the counterprotesters with the white supremacists, saying that both sides were responsible. (It was Steve Bannon, Trump’s former advisor and a supporter of the alt-right, who helped craft this “both sides” rhetoric.)87 Then there was Trump’s reaction to the murder of fifty people in two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand, which was carried out by a white supremacist who referred to Trump as “a symbol of renewed white identity.” While Trump can’t directly be blamed for the reference, his response to the shootings was to deny that white nationalism is a rising global threat. Trump has also retweeted the meme #WhiteGenocide from four white supremacy accounts that were later suspended.88 Remarkably, the Trump administration has restructured and marginalized the unit of the Department of Homeland Security responsible for domestic terrorism.
Hate groups have been emboldened by Trump’s use and growing mastery of the cult playbook—his use of loaded language, incitements to violence, us-versus-them thinking, his sowing confusion and his tough-guy persona, his lies, distortions, and veiled threats—like this one, reported in The New York Times. “I can tell you I have the support of the police, the support of the military, the support of Bikers for Trump. I have the tough people, but they don’t play it tough—until they go to a certain point and then it would be very bad, very bad.”89 From the moment he stepped into the White House, advised by alt-right sympathizer Steve Bannon and others, Trump has violated so many of the norms of moral decency expected of a U.S. president.
People come to their hate-filled views in various ways—through their upbringing and life experiences and, increasingly, by immersing themselves in the more shadowy precincts of the internet. University of Pittsburgh sociologist Kathleen M. Blee found that middle- and upper-middle-class men are being drawn from the mainstream into deeper and darker corners of the internet, where they are being radicalized through fearmongering and other influence tactics.90 Their online recruitment is actively paved not just by white supremacist media like the alt-right website The Daily Stormer and Breitbart but also by outside forces like Russia, which is seeking to divide America through psychological manipulation. They could not have picked a better flashpoint. “The cynical brilliance of Vladimir Putin’s propaganda campaign is that it exploited America’s foundational commitment to white supremacy,” writes Spencer Ackerman in The Daily Beast. “The term itself is so raw and so hideous that it inspires an allergy to its usage within mainstream political discourse. But no other term—racism, white privilege, etc.—better captures the dynamic at issue.”91
THE RIGHT-LIBERTARIANS AND AYN RAND
One group who seeks to diminish, if not delegitimize, government is the libertarian movement. Inspired in part by the writings of the novelist and philosopher Ayn Rand—who, in books like The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, promoted a ruggedly individualistic, survival-of-the-fittest, elitist ideology—they have a clear agenda: to shrink government, cut taxes and regulations, and do away with social safety nets. They include billionaires like the Koch brothers and PayPal founder Peter Thiel, who have contributed heavily to Trump’s campaign and whose influence may be felt in Trump’s corporate tax cuts, judicial appointments, deregulation of business, and defense of the fossil fuel industry.
While they defend the constitutional rights of individuals to pursue health, happiness, and liberty, there is an antidemocratic strand running through the libertarian movement, at least among elites like the Kochs, Thiel, former Speaker of the House Paul Ryan, Trump advisor Stephen Moore, and politicians Ron and Rand Paul. In an article in New York magazine, Jonathan Chait describes how “many of them see democracy as a process that enables the majority to gang up on the rich minority and carry out legalized theft through redistribution. Their highest notion of liberty entails the protection of property rights from the democratic process, and they have historically been open to authoritarian leaders who will protect their policy agenda.”92 Their main concern, as Chait observes, is to protect the makers from the takers, which appears to be right in line with Trump’s own philosophy of winning—and his penchant for authoritarianism.
THE WEB OF INFLUENCE
The Christian right, Russia, and the alt-right share the goal of destabilizing democratic institutions to achieve their own ends. Yet this attack upon democracy—using anger, fear, and panic to destabilize and disrupt—has been happening from within our institutions. James Scaminaci III sees its early political applications in the late 1980s, when Newt Gingrich became Speaker of the House and began actively sowing division between the political parties through his use of inflammatory rhetoric, ushering in a kind of us versus them, good versus evil style of political discourse.93 According to Scaminaci, the rise of the Tea Party, which gained power by mobilizing populist hatred of government, can be traced back to Gingrich.
This subversive approach to politics is all too familiar to me. When I was in the Moonies, I was told that democracy—like communism—was satanic, yet Moon spent much of his time worming his way into democratic institutions, cultivating senators, congressmen, presidents, religious leaders, businessmen—anyone who had influence and power. He shared many of the same theocratic goals as the Christian right—to take over the American government—and colluded with them for decades.94 Moon recruited members under the guise of being a messiah, the leader of a religious organization that wanted to bring about the kingdom of heaven on earth, but he was in fact the leader of a complex organization with a highly political agenda. Though Moon started the group in the 1950s, the South Korean CIA (KCIA) would later turn it into a front group to combat what they claimed was the rising tide of communism. Of course I did not know this when I joined the group. Nor did I know that Moon had forged links with Japanese organized crime.
When Moon came to the United States in the 1960s, it was with the express aim of forging links with influential people.95 He attended Abram Vereide’s National Prayer Breakfast several times. In the early 1970s he would throw the support of the Moon organization behind the reelection of Richard Nixon, a man I’d previously despised. As Moonies, we were taught that God was using Nixon—he was God’s choice. I would join my fellow members in a fast on the steps of the Capitol to show support for Nixon during the Watergate scandal. We looked like young, idealistic, and enthusiastic Americans who—under the leadership of our religious leader—had spontaneously assembled there to show support for the president. We were actually there as a result of a more complicated and entangling set of events and circumstances.
The same may be said of Trump’s followers. They are caught in a web of influence that is much larger and more complex than one man saying, “I alone can fix it.”
CHAPTER EIGHT Trump’s Followers
Donald Trump took the stage in Fort Wayne, Indiana, on November 5, 2018, greeting the cheering throngs with waving arms, the occasional pumped fist, and many mouthed thank-yous. He opened by pointing to the “thousands and thousands” who were still outside, wishing they could get in. “You got lucky,” he told the audience, who had filled the 13,000 seats of the arena and were spilling onto the stadium floor. If they hadn’t already felt blessed to be in his presence, they most likely did as he reeled off his accomplishments. “Jobs are soaring, wages are rising, optimism is skyrocketing,” he said. We have created “the single best economy in the history of our great country” and “the hottest job market on the planet earth.” And then he lowered the boom. But—a big but—“everything we have achieved is at stake tomorrow.” It could all come crashing down at the hands of the “radical Democrats”—“they can take it apart just as fast as we built it.”
There is always a villain—and a hero—at a Trump rally, and that�
�s exactly what his audience expects—along with his insults, boasts, and takedowns of liberals and other enemies. He makes them feel heroic by association, and they adore him for it. “Trump supporters remain as enthusiastic as ever, standing for hours in hot sun or driving rain,” wrote Jill Colvin, reporting on the 2018 midterms for Business Insider.1 Lines to get into these rallies would wind around buildings and twist through alleys. “Look at this,” said Brenda MacDonald of Woodbury, Minnesota, gesturing at the thousands waiting with her on a line that reached more than a mile. “I think it’s amazing what he’s doing, I really do,” said Tami Gusching, at the Fort Wayne rally. “I love the aggression that he has and the power behind him.”2 “I think the fact he’s still turning out these crowds of people, two years in, it’s absolutely amazing,” said Richard Eichhorn, seventy-two, of Stockholm, Wisconsin. “I think it’s huge.”3 “I’m just totally, madly in love with him,” said Peggy Saar, sixty-four, of Rochester, Minnesota.4
Millions of Trump supporters echo Peggy’s sentiments—to the astonishment of Trump’s critics. Who are these people, they wonder, and why do they support and even adore Trump after he has lied, cheated, bullied, and betrayed the country by believing the Russian president rather than his own intelligence agencies? Clearly, there is no simple answer. Trump supporters—63 million strong—are a patchwork of diverse yet distinct groups, each with varying levels of allegiance.5 They range from fervent followers on the Christian and alt-right, who see Trump as a change agent who can forward their agenda, to traditional Republicans who vote the party line, to pro-lifers, NRA members, and the poor and out of work. They include older, white Americans who were persuaded, in part, by Trump’s angry and fearful rhetoric. Finally, there are independents who voted for Trump simply because he was not Hillary Clinton.
Some had their own agendas, motivations, and allegiances, as we have seen. But Trump’s campaign was an aggressive recruiting machine, using many of the black-and-white, us-versus-them techniques used by cults—along with rousing fourth-generation warfare “government versus the people” rhetoric. “Our movement is about replacing a failed and corrupted political establishment, with a new government controlled by you, the American people,” began a 2016 Trump campaign ad. “The only people brave enough to vote out this corrupt establishment is you, the American people. I am doing this for the people and for the movement, and we will take back this country for you, and we will make America great again.”6
The flamboyant New Yorker spoke to disaffected people everywhere in 2016. More than two years later, most of them are still behind him, maybe even more so. Trump has kept his base the same way he attracted them, by drawing upon his grandiosity, exaggeration, and ability to manipulate and lie, and also upon the techniques of a cult leader—distracting, overloading, and lying; framing issues using simplistic good-versus-evil, us-versus-them narratives; promoting fear and phobias.
graphic: Karen Spike Robinson
That said, it is important to underscore that not every Trump supporter is a fervent follower. And not every fervent follower is necessarily a member of the Cult of Trump. If we think of Trump’s followers as comprising a pyramid structure, with circles radiating from its base, most would occupy the outermost circles. Forming the bottom of the pyramid—literally, the base—would be Trump’s most loyal followers, including members of the Christian right, alt-right, listeners of Fox News and right-wing media, dyed-in-the-wool Republicans, and others. Above the base, in ascending tiers, would be business, political, and religious leaders who support and promote Trump, often to satisfy their own agendas. Closest to Trump—and atop the pyramid—would be his family and staff.
In the last chapter, we looked at how leaders and prominent people associated with movements like the Christian right and alt-right have influenced Trump. They occupy the middle tiers of the pyramid. In this chapter we will take a closer look at the top and bottom tiers—the people who are closest to Trump, his inner circle, as well as the supporters that constitute his base. Many in this bottom tier are members of other groups, some of them high-demand and cultlike. In general, those most at risk for being drawn into a cult have often had prior experience with other high-demand relationships or groups, especially those with authoritarian figures who promote a similar message. Some of Trump’s most zealous followers are members of high-demand groups on the Christian right whose leaders have helped shape Trump’s message of religious freedom. Members of such groups were ready—indeed, primed—for a leader like Trump.
THE TOP OF THE PYRAMID: TRUMP’S INNER CIRCLE
The Trump White House is a porous place—people come and go with their various political, religious, and economic agendas, as they do at Trump’s Florida resort, Mar-a-Lago. Members of Congress and cabinet secretaries may put on sycophantic displays—as we have seen in an earlier chapter—but they typically spend only a few hours in Trump’s presence. There is a core group of White House staffers, some of whom are family members, who are in regular contact with Trump. This is typically true of cults—there is a coterie of aides who are loyal and subservient to the leader, carrying out directives and doctrine. Sun Myung Moon’s inner circle comprised Korean and Japanese aides who would then direct other Moonies to carry out his commands. When Trump arrived at the White House, he was surrounded by people who were not entirely of his own choosing. Steve Bannon, who was White House chief strategist, had essentially been assigned to him by billionaire Robert Mercer. Though Trump eventually bonded with him, Bannon lasted only seven months. Trump’s chief of staff was Reince Priebus, who had publicly criticized Trump early in his campaign and, as the immediate past chairman of the national Republican Party, was seen by some as a party plant. He lasted about six months. His successor, retired U.S. Marine Corps general John Kelly, who was viewed as a disciplining influence and reportedly called Trump an “idiot,” was fired nearly a year and a half later. Trump’s current chief of staff is Nick Mulvaney, who is widely seen as a “yes man,” and who lets Trump be Trump.
Trump has long been obsessed with loyalty. He has always tried to surround himself with an inner circle of loyalists and devoted staff—and family. Trump’s oldest son, Don Jr., and daughter, Ivanka, worked closely with their father at the Trump Organization. Ivanka and her husband, Jared Kushner, were given important White House roles—and security clearances—despite a complete lack of governmental and political experience. Interestingly, L. Ron Hubbard Jr. helped run Scientology, but defected because he couldn’t feed his family. Moon saw his sons as direct heirs to his divine lineage. When he died, an internecine struggle broke out, with each of them competing for power, and rebelling against Moon’s surviving wife, known as “True Mother.”
Many hoped that, with their more liberal politics, Ivanka and Jared would be moderating influences on Trump—championing issues such as climate change and, in the case of Ivanka, women’s issues. There is little evidence that has happened. According to Omarosa Manigault Newman, “Trump’s children never criticized him to his face—they’re afraid of him, they don’t have the boldness. To each other, in a supportive way, they would be like, ‘Oh my God, can you believe he did this?’ Jared, from a policy point of view, would make suggestions but would never disagree.”7 According to investigative journalist David Cay Johnston, who has written two books on Trump, the relationship with Ivanka may be largely transactional. Johnston believes that Trump would throw any of his family members under the bus to save himself, including Ivanka.8
As head of the Trump Organization, Trump’s narcissism was apparently on full display. He was known to be mercurial, and demanded absolute loyalty from employees. Similarly, among Moon’s inner circle, there was no tolerance for people talking back or not succeeding in what they were told to do. There was also a lot of blaming, shaming, and competition—pitting people against each other, supposedly to get the most out of them. Manigault Newman, who has known Trump for more than fourteen years, first as a contestant on The Apprentice, then as a political aide
, describes a similar situation: Trump would often pit his employees against one another, as he did on The Apprentice. In her memoir, Unhinged, she describes how he relished conflict and confusion. His face lit up when people argued or fought, and when they ably defended themselves. She adapted her behavior accordingly, modeling herself on Trump—even eating the same fast food—and looking to him for positive reinforcement. When she criticized someone, he would smile in approval. She learned to read him. Former lawyer Michael Cohen described, in his testimony before Congress, how Trump never directly ordered him to lie but instead made his wishes clear by speaking in “code” that was understood by anyone who worked with him. “He doesn’t give you questions, he doesn’t give you orders, he speaks in a code, and I understand the code, because I’ve been around him for a decade,” Cohen said.
During his testimony, Cohen described how he would have taken a bullet for Trump, despite the fact that Trump often treated him poorly—praising him as a great lawyer one moment, then humiliating him the next. Alternating praise and criticism is a common technique in cults. Trump would also control his employees’ behavior more directly, making them eat the same thing—mostly fast food like McDonald’s—and disturbing their sleep with constant late-night emergencies. During his campaign, he would insist that all the women dress the same. When they went on vacation, it was always to Mar-a-Lago or Trump’s Bedminster, New Jersey, golf resort, “where we knew we’d be safe and not condemned or criticized,” Manigault Newman said.
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