Who’s Your Daddy? The Father and Propaganda
Propaganda establishes a clear hierarchy. At the top, the mythic father.
This is the third post in a series about techniques of propaganda and how they are a threat to democracy. Earlier pieces include “Propaganda In Our Time” (posted March 16) and “The Real Pronoun Problem” (posted March 19).
During the 2024 election, a friend decided to attend a local Trump rally. He is not a true believer. Not a MAGA. He just wanted to see the spectacle firsthand. Trump was, as usual, over two hours late. When he finally arrived and walked on stage, my friend looked at the MAGAs around him. Most of them were in tears.
I have been to a number of political rallies. I have seen people clap and cheer. I have felt the energy of the crowd. But I have never seen people cry at the sight of a politician. What is going on here?
It’s not a stretch, I believe, to say a Trump rally is archetypal. Later in this series on propaganda, I will discuss myth in more detail. Here, I will simply say that an archetype, a mythic pattern, has force because an event in the real world connects with something inside the individual. That something is fundamental to human nature, essential to the historical/cultural context, and evocative of deep memories. If the memories evoked are traumatic, if the event fills a space that has long been empty in the person, bringing a transitory sense of wholeness, then the experience is even more powerful.
As any fan of the Star Wars sagas knows, the search for the father is an archetypical experience. This search is at the core of propaganda.
J.M. Coetzee’s “The Vietnam Project” is a short story about Eugene Dawn who is tasked with developing a propaganda program during the Vietnam War. It is clear, as the story progresses, that the project, which is designed to destroy opposition to America’s war effort, is also destroying Dawn himself. Included in the short story is the complete text of Dawn’s report on how “to win the hearts and minds” (a phrase LBJ often repeated) of the Vietnamese people. Dawn’s report, of course, was actually written by Coetzee, a Noble Prize winner, and it is, not surprisingly, filled with brilliant insights. For the sake of simplicity, as I quote from Dawn’s report, I will attribute it to Coetzee.
One of the most interesting insights in the report is the focus on the mythic father.
Coetzee writes, “The father is authority, infallibility, ubiquity. He does not persuade, he commands.” This means that the voice of a propaganda campaign is the voice of the mythic father. As I explained in my “Divided America” series, a hierarchical family structure generates the authoritarian personality, and the authoritarian personality seeks out a “strong” leader, the mythic father.
Here is my summarization of this family structure from major studies on the authoritarian personality, the type of person who is likely to become part of a political mob:
The people who have an “authoritarian personality” are born in trauma. The original trauma for most of us is our family of origin, although this is certainly not the only trauma that might leave people vulnerable to charismatic leaders. Within the hierarchical and rigid family, the trauma is usually created by the distant and abusive father who demands perfection and withholds love.
The trauma of the family is more fundamental because it disrupts a person’s maturation, which means the person does not construct an integrated self and is left with few resources to bring order to a chaotic inner life.
A delicate balance can only be maintained by aligning with an outside force (a strong leader, a cult, a group, a dogma, conspiracy theories, drugs, alcohol) that brings simplicity to a confusing world or takes us away from our own thoughts to a “savior.” An important feature of this simplicity is dividing the world into an “ingroup,” who are idealized as the good people, and “outgroups,” who are the bad people.
Reflection is avoided, even feared. They are in psychological distress, but they do not seek help. Their pain is familiar, and they want to see it validated in the world at large.
What the person feels intensely (anger, fear, confusion, weakness) is projected onto an outgroup. The members of the outgroup are portrayed as being so bad that they should be feared like a contagion. They might even need to be eradicated. The threat of the outgroup creates a single mind, a mob, a group united by a “strong” and charismatic leader. Inner chaos is projected—released in an ecstatic ritual. This brings a fleeting sense of calm. The calm doesn’t last long. It must be repeated and repeated and repeated.
In The Origins of Totalitarianism, Hannah Arendt writes that propaganda seeks to create “an aura of impenetrable mystery.” The real father must become the mythic father. This process begins in the family of origin, long before the charismatic politicians appears.
In this family structure, the real father is generally absent, unknowable, and mysterious. When a family member brings the real father a problem to fix, he erupts with anger. He is all too aware, even if only unconsciously, of his own weakness. But his family does not see it. They are too focused on his rage and their vulnerability.
This mythic father is different. He exhibits rage, but it always seems directed toward the outgroup. Unlike the real father, the mythic father sees the members of the ingroup. He is present and accepting—even loving. He is what his followers have been searching for their entire lives. All of this, of course, is mere spectacle.
But the mythic father is represented by a real man. The real man is not as strong as he appears.
The “strong” leader must constantly nurture his fragile public image. He needs the cheers of a mass rally, the constant praise of a small inner circle, statues in the public square, parades in his honor, and glorification in mass media. He is cruel and even violent toward others, but anyone who criticizes him is unfair or nasty. He is as much a creation of those who adore him as they are a creation of his infantile need to be adored. They say, “He is one of us.” And he is. They all come from the same kind of family.
This archetypal image, to have force in a particular context, must take on the history and culture of that time and place.
In The Origins of Totalitarianism, Hannah Arendt wrote: “Nazis, without admitting it, learned as much from American gangster organizations as their own propaganda.” In the United States, the mob boss, even more than the corporate CEO, is the mythic father and the prototypical strong leader. He doesn’t persuade; he commands. He uses brute force to subdue or eliminate his enemies. It is easy, too easy, to admire his acts of terror. The mob boss has been at the core of American culture at least since prohibition and the 1930s.
Trump could only have assumed power during a time when many CEOs and billionaires behave like mob bosses.
Before proceeding, I want to add an important qualification. This family pattern should help us to understand events that come at us quickly, events that render us dizzy and baffled. This pattern is a moment of clarity. We understandably want to latch onto it and think that it explains everything that is happening in our country.
We will not, I hope, want to stay here. We should want more depth, detail, and nuance. Learning to feel comfortable with doubt and ambiguity, I will repeat often, is an important part of democratic thinking. We should use insights like this, but we should also recognize that there is much diversity among the supporters of any populist movement. Some are deeply embedded in the movement; some are on its fringe; some are entirely outside it but sympathetic.
Arendt wrote: “Legends were the spiritual foundation of every ancient city, empire, people, promising safe guidance through the limitless spaces of the future. Without ever relating facts reliably, yet always expressing their true significance, they offered a truth beyond realities, a remembrance beyond memories.”
In the history of every culture is some form of the mythic father, but not all mythic fathers are alike. For the United States, we often refer to the “founders”—George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Bemjamin Franklin, and Alexander Hamilton. This is admiration, not worship. As we read biographies and history, we are reminded of the values that established this country. These fathers do not demand absolute loyalty.
Chaotic times can transform the spiritual leader into the autocratic and vengeful father. In times of rapid social change, some of us need more than a real father or a competent politician. We don’t want wisdom from the father who smiles upon us from history. We want vengeance of the father who rants against the elites who victimize us.
As we construct the mythic father, we erase the contradictions of the real father. The ingroup can no longer see the contradictions, but they remain. They are all too clear to the outgroup:
· He presents himself as all powerful and his enemies as weak, yet he is a victim.
· He insults his enemies, often physically harms them, but anyone who criticizes him is cruel. He even finds it difficult to understand their cruelty.
· He expects complete loyalty, but he is not loyal to even his inner circle.
· He promises to protect the “good” people, but the targets of his rage are random to produce maximum terror. Even the “good” people are harmed.
· He claims to follow the law, but he also says that he is the law. So there is no law. Only his will exists.
Even when these contradictions are pointed out, the true believers cannot see them.
How can we use these insights to counter the mythic father?
The good news is that, over time, the spell of the mythic father always breaks. A populist movement runs on highly pitched emotions, and humans cannot maintain that level of intense emotions forever. They eventually collapse in exhaustion. In a state of exhaustion, they finally realize that the leader is imperfect. Once followers see a fault in the leader, they only see faults.
Eventually, his own incompetence catches up with him. He makes too many enemies in his inner circle. He disrupts the lives of too many citizens. He starts a war that ends badly. He lives in luxury while his followers struggle with necessities. Too many promises are left unfulfilled. Toward the end, the leader is only able to maintain power through horrific acts of terror.
The bad news is that this takes time and much damage is done in the process. The real question we should ask is, “How can we accelerate the process?”
Coetzee writes that speaking from the voice of the mythic father has two drawbacks: “The first is that the omnipotence of the Father is tainted by the fallibility of the Leader. The second is that penalties exist that the prudent statesman dare not threaten, punishments that he dare not celebrate, which nevertheless belong to the omnipotent Father.”
In other words, we need to reveal the flawed real man behind the mythic image.
Hannah Arendt wrote: “The chief qualification of a mass leader has become unending infallibility; he can never admit an error.” His followers will only see his errors and faults once they feel them. At some point, hunger penetrates myth.
The family that creates the authoritarian personality is unstable, despite all of its mechanisms of control. While the voice of the domineering mythic father is powerful, the children also resent the father of their memories. Think of how many myths are about the son killing the father. There is also tension among siblings as they fight for recognition and love, which seems limited and always comes with conditions. Think of the many myths about fratricide. The way to fight myth, Coetzee writes, is through counter-myth.
At the end of each post about propaganda, I will outline a range of political rhetoric related to the topic of that post. This should serve as a summary that can be reviewed. I also hope that it will help us to be more aware of how we, as we interact with family and friends, might promote democratic dialogue and resist the slow slip into propaganda and totalitarianism.
Democratic Dialogue: The leader is seen as flawed and is often satirized. The leader is willing to admit making mistakes and even engage in self-parody. The danger here is that the democratic leader, Coetzee writes, may take on “the voice of the doubting self,” which does not have the force to counter the voice of the mythic father.
Propaganda Lite: The leader writes a self-glorifying autobiography before running for office. The population splits into tribes. The leaders of the other tribes become villains who do not understand the community’s core values.
Propaganda Complete: The mythic father must be perfect. Mistakes or shortcomings are glossed over or blamed on the incompetence of others. As the leader’s performance falls short of the image of the mythic father, the people will lose faith. This may take a long time because the filter of ideology erases most of the leader’s failings.
There is always a tension between the mythic father and his children and even among his children. Coetzee writes, “The father-voice is the voice that breaks the bonds of the enemy band. The strength of the enemy is his bondedness. . . . There is a mythic shape to the encounter, and no doubt the enemy draws sustenance from the knowledge that in the myth the brothers usurp the father’s place.” In the grammar of myth, the usurping sons can be symbolic sons. The group, Elias Canetti says in Crowds and Power, is destroyed from within.
We fight the myth of the father with counter-myth. Coetzee writes, “The blow that wins the war against the tyrant father is not a death-trust but a humiliating blow that renders him sterile (impotence and sterility are mythologically indistinguishable). His kingdom, no longer fertilized, becomes a wasteland.” Counter-myth needs to come from the counter-mob, a pervasive and growing culture of insults against the leader but not his followers.
If followers view the mythic father as infallible, any resistance reveals his limitations and weakness. It breaks the spell. Coetzee writes, “The father cannot become the benign father until the sons have knelt before his wand.” All the sons. In the end, even the mob boss cannot control his own family.