A chilling echo of Nazi ideology in Trump's America?
Many critics argue that US President Donald Trump embodies fascism, with some drawing parallels between his policies and the work of Nazi jurist Carl Schmitt. Schmitt's concept of 'the exception' resonates with Trump's approach to constitutional rights. As recent geopolitical events unfold, Schmitt's theories are being re-examined for their modern-day relevance.
The 2025 US National Security Strategy, the Venezuela raid, Trump's rhetoric on Greenland and Latin American nations, and his apparent affinity for Vladimir Putin's Russia, all raise a crucial question: Is Trump embracing Schmitt's vision of 'great spaces'? Schmitt, like many Germans, felt humiliated by the post-WWI order and the Entente powers' 'colonization'. He dismissed international law as a tool for subjugating Germany and exploiting global resources. His disdain for the British was profound, labeling them hypocritical 'universalists' preaching free trade and internationalism while building a vast empire. In contrast, he viewed Americans more favorably for their 19th-century isolationism, adhering to the Monroe Doctrine, until they were drawn into WWI.
In 1939, Schmitt proposed a world divided into 'great spaces' (Großraum), each led by an empire (Reich) at its core. These spaces would have distinct identities, missions, and force-fields, shaping surrounding states. 'Spatially alien powers' were to be barred from intervention. Schmitt envisioned Nazi Germany as the Reich of the European great space, shielded from Anglo-American influence. This vision was laced with antisemitism, blaming 'world Jewry' for undermining nation-states and economies. While some argue Schmitt inspired Hitler, Hitler had already called for a 'German Monroe Doctrine' in 1923.
Schmitt's vision failed when the 'Anglo-Saxon' powers confronted Hitler, leading to the Reich's destruction. Schmitt, a known Nazi figure, faced public scorn and lost academic standing post-1945, yet his ideas persisted in anti-Western states like Russia. His rejection of Western universalism and advocacy for great spaces free from external interference resonate in Moscow and Beijing. Alexander Dugin, a Putin ally and architect of the Ukraine attack, echoes Schmitt's ideas, advocating for a Russia that spreads its conservative, Orthodox principles and excludes Western, especially Anglo-Saxon, influence. Dugin and his peers share Schmitt's anti-British sentiment, blaming them for liberalism and international capitalism.
Trump's actions, including territorial demands on Ukraine, have led some to believe we're witnessing a Schmitt-style division of the world. However, this interpretation may be flawed, as Trump's direct influence from Schmitt is unlikely. While the Trump administration prioritizes the Western Hemisphere, invoking the Monroe Doctrine, the doctrine's evolution has made it a one-way street. The US rejects external influence in its hemisphere but asserts power globally, particularly in Europe and Asia. This 'empire by invitation' has been welcomed by many Europeans, despite accusations of hypocrisy.
Trump's actions, from striking Iran and Venezuela to targeting Russian tankers with British aid, and the CIA's role in Ukrainian attacks on Russian oil, suggest neither strategic collusion nor respect for spheres of influence. Trump's narcissism, not fascism, drives his agenda. Schmitt's grave would spin, but he'd feel validated by the 'hypocrisy' of the Anglo-Saxons.
Brendan Simms, a geopolitical expert and author, delves into the complexities of this controversial topic, inviting readers to ponder the implications of these historical echoes in modern politics.
