New thinking about generational change about race

The United States has a long history of racism against African-Americans, at multiple levels. At the level of individuals, we have a history of negative attitudes, stereotypes, fears, and antagonisms that are built into the social consciousness of white men and women about African-Americans. Racist attitudes about “genetic inferiority”, crime, and other negative stereotypes have persisted since the slave period. At the level of behavior, institutions and individuals in “majority society” discriminate against African-American men, women, and children. The code of inter-racial behavior embodied in the Jim Crow epoch has continuing relevance to contemporary society, and discrimination in employment and other socially important opportunities persists. And then there is “structural racism” or “institutional racism” — the persistence of patterns of disparity and disadvantage for African-American individuals and families that seem to result from the workings of the institutions themselves. Residential segregation and its consequences provide a clear illustration of structural racism, and the persistence of health and longevity disparities by race illustrates the deadly seriousness of these patterns of unequal treatment. (Here is an earlier post on racial disparities.)

Observers have recognized for decades that American society needs to change in order to eliminate these facts of racism and substantive disparity of outcomes. But what kinds of change are called for? There is a comforting theory of change that seems to have some empirical basis. It is the idea that each cohort of Americans has become less racist and more tolerant of diversity than its predecessor cohort. On this account, the “silent generation” (1928-1945) had more explicitly racist attitudes than the baby boomers (1946-1964), Gen X (1965-1980), and Gen Z (1996-?). Each successive cohort was more accepting of racial diversity than its predecessor. This narrative suggests that racism and its legacy will die out as the more tolerant generations replace their less tolerant predecessors. GlobeScan, a global public opinion research organization, published the results of a brief survey on this topic in 2023 (link):

This report offers an empirical snapshot of the change across generations that is evident in some public opinion surveys: that concern about racial discrimination has steadily increased across recent generations of people. This is a comforting storyline for anyone who cares about an inclusive multicultural democracy. But Christopher DeSante and Candis Watts Smith argue in Racial Stasis: The Millennial Generation and the Stagnation of Racial Attitudes in American Politics (2020) that the storyline is fundamentally incorrect.

DeSante and Smith do not dispute that the generations since the 1940s have indeed experienced a shift in racial attitudes away from overt and explicit “biological racism”. Generations since the baby boom of the 1950s have internalized more “race-neutral” ways of describing current realities. And they have expressed rising discomfort with the fact of continuing racial discrimination. But these generations — GenX, Millennials, and GenZ in particular — appear not to have moved forward to the logical conclusion — the need for supporting the policy changes that would be effective in addressing the continuing realities of racial discrimination. This is the “stagnation and stasis” to which DeSante and Smith refer in the title of the book: progress on ending racism appears to have stalled.

The heart of their argument involves the question of how to measure “racist attitudes” among individuals. For several decades the primary tool of social-psychological measurement of racial attitudes has been based on the concept of “racial resentment” or symbolic racism. Survey questions were designed to elicit the subject’s level of resentment, fear, or antagonism towards members of another race. DeSante and Smith argue that this approach is no longer satisfactory as a measurement tool. They maintain that racism is inherently multidimensional, involving emotions and cognitive assumptions and frameworks, and a satisfactory measure needs to permit observation of several of these dimensions in the subjects of a survey. Instead they offer a four-dimensional framework that they call FIRE (Fear, Institutionalist Racism, and Empathy), and they use a set of survey questions that allow measurement of each dimension. These questions are designed to capture the emotional and cognitive components of “attitudes about race” among individuals in a racially mixed society.

Their measurement tool elaborates on these four questions:

-- I am fearful of people of other races.
-- White people in the US have certain advantages because of the color of their skin.
-- Racial problems in the US are rare, isolated situations.
-- I am angry that racism exists. (DeSantes and Smith 2020: 227)

The questions are borrowed from several other survey instruments and are validated using statistical tools of consistency and predictive value. Here are the results of using these questions on the 2016 Cooperative Congressional Election Study (White respondents only).

The results are striking. Millennials are no less “racist” on average than the population of older whites on each of these measures. Here are the mean values for each question:

• -- “Fearful of other races” 3.83 vs. 3.87
• -- “Recognize whites have advantages” 2.98 vs. 2.48
• -- “Racial problems are rare” 3.64 vs. 3.68
• -- “Angry racism exists” 1.78 vs. 1.59

On average, Millennials demonstrate the same level of racist attitudes as older whites. The pattern is somewhat different when we compare “strongly agree” and “somewhat agree” responses to the four questions.

• -- “Fearful of other races” 14.36 vs. 14.35
• --  “Recognize whites have advantages” 43.06 vs. 59.01
• -- “Racial problems are rare” 21.28 vs. 19.59
• -- “Angry racism exists” 76.84 vs. 85.37

There are two significant differences in these “agree” responses. Millennials are more likely to agree that “whites have advantages” and agree more frequently that they are “angry racism exists”. Millennials are more likely to disagree or strongly disagree that they are “fearful of other races”. But overall, DeSantes and Smith argue that these differences are small, indicating that little change has occurred between the generations born before 1981 and the Millennials. Millennials have abandoned “old-fashioned racism” but have not advanced much further. Here is their summary statement:

Generally speaking, our results in this chapter also highlight the issue of racial stasis, as signs of the countervailing forces remain visible. For instance, White millennials do present more progressive attitudes. Compared to their predecessors, they are more likely to express anger about racism and more likely to acknowledge their privilege. But we also found that nearly one in five White millennials (20 percent) simultaneously feels angry that racism exists and does not believe Whites have advantages because of the color of their skin…. Ultimately we have a large number of walking contradictions in American society that are helping to produce and perpetuate ongoing racial inequities through their political stances and policy preferences. (244)

So if DeSantes and Smith are correct, then the hope that America’s conflicts over race and racism will disappear as a result of generational replacement is not likely to materialize. Instead, positive and purposeful steps will be needed in the realm of public and semi-public policy in order to address the effects of discrimination and prejudice. And since the burdens of discrimination are cumulative, it is not enough to ensure that opportunities are available on the basis of merit and achievement to solve the problem. If residential segregation makes it less likely that black children will receive equal educational opportunities, then all of their opportunities in later life will be stunted as well. If elementary schools or high schools are racially oriented so that black children on average receive lower quality educations, then “equal opportunity” at the university level is insufficient.

DeSante and Smith do not have much to say about what a “non-racist” mentality and culture would look like, but we can extend their thinking by emphasizing the importance of “education for an inclusive multicultural democracy”. This is a view of “civic education” for all of us based on respect across our various lines of division. A major part of such an education is a clear and honest knowledge of some of the sources of racist oppression and violence that have burdened our society in the past. Another is a deliberate and creative effort by educators, leaders, and students themselves to find our way to some of the ideals articulated by MLK and the beloved community. Without some idea of how young people can be genuinely transformed in their underlying attitudes about race, it is hard to see how the “stagnation of racial attitudes” called out by DeSante and Smith can be disrupted and reimagined. (Here is a more extensive discussion of what is needed for an inclusive multicultural democracy to become a reality; link.)

Maintaining social resilience

What is needed for a community of diverse people and groups to maintain its resilience in the face of hateful language, incidents, and provocations?

This question is particularly important for universities, which commonly seek to create a climate of welcome and respect for the various groups of students who make them up, and which are sometimes subjected to anonymous hateful attacks through graffiti, email, posters, social media, or other means. University communities have periodically been thrown into tense situations of fear, mistrust, and anxiety by hateful attacks — even when no physical threats of violence have emerged (NYT).

Hateful and racist propaganda campaigns like these are deeply destructive to the cohesiveness of a community for several reasons. They undermine trust across groups — “do those other people think this way about me?”. They harden the separations that sometimes begin to emerge across groups. They may lead to a cycle of “tit for tat” hostilities, which have the inherent possibility of escalation. And possibly they reinforce and amplify the latent hateful assumptions of some people to a more virulent and expressive form.

So how can a diverse and multicultural community best prepare itself for attacks like these? How can students, faculty, and staff “take on hate” in a university community?

One avenue is to devote the effort necessary throughout the community to establish strong forms of affiliation and trust across groups, so that members of different groups have a substantial basis for sustaining confidence in the motivations and allegiances of members of other groups. This means creating avenues of interaction and communication across groups in routine times, not just the occasions of crisis when threats to cohesion arise.

Another is for leaders to be explicit and passionate about the values of inclusion that hold the community together.

Third, an important source of social resiliency results from affirmative organizations that advocate for the values of mutual respect and inclusion and that have established strong networks of relationships throughout the community, both within and across groups. Student organizations can play the lead in creating and supporting such groups.

Another important source of resiliency is realistic communication about the continuing possibility of individual anonymous expressions of hate and intolerance. It is a fact that hateful expressions are possible in every social setting, and in fact we seem to be in a period where such expressions are becoming more common. So a community that is mentally prepared for such assaults is probably better able to resist their pernicious effects than the world that Mary Poppins lives in.

It also makes sense that a community will be stronger and more resilient if its institutions establish confidence in protection of all members of the community against violence and intimidation. Fear is a toxic emotion in a multicultural community. If a community can ensure that racist actions will be appropriately addressed, and that no one needs to fear racist or hateful violence, then the anxieties created by anonymous hateful messages should have less effect on the cohesiveness of the community. This means that effective and predictable policing and law enforcement is an important source of community resilience.

So we might say that a resilient multicultural community is one in which --

• there are lasting inter-group ties through organizations and person-to-person relationships;
• leaders from civil society and from important organizations publicly espouse the values of inclusion and respect;
• there is a broad understanding of the dynamics of hate and the possibility of occasional hateful occurrences; and
• there is deep confidence in the ability of the community to provide safety for all its members through effective law enforcement.

These circumstances are likely to build the ongoing trust and commitment to positive intergroup loyalties that will make the community resilient to the efforts of hateful outsiders (or insiders) to disrupt its harmonious fabric of civil life.

How democracies die

 

image: Senator Josh Hawley salutes January 6 insurrection

Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt have written with growing alarm about the threat to our democracy by right-wing extremism. How Democracies Die was sobering when it appeared in 2017, and the publication of Tyranny of the Minority: Why American Democracy Reached the Breaking Point (2023) reaches an even higher level of fear for our democratic institutions.

But just as this new democratic experiment was beginning to take root, America experienced an authoritarian backlash so fierce that it shook the foundations of the republic, leaving our allies across the world worried about whether the country had any democratic future at all. Meaningful steps toward democratic inclusion often trigger intense—even authoritarian—reactions. But the assault on American democracy was worse than anything we anticipated in 2017, when we were writing our first book, How Democracies Die. (Tyranny of the Minority, 5)

Levitsky and Ziblatt have spent their careers studying authoritarian regimes and their dynamics, so their assessment of our current situation is eye-opening. And of course, the situation today is worse than what they surveyed in 2023 — much worse. The earlier book focused on the powerful streaks of authoritarianism present in MAGA nationalism — race-baiting, contempt for democratic norms and practices, treating political opponents as contemptible enemies, and barely concealed willingness to defy Federal courts when rulings run contrary to the MAGA agenda. In the current book their focus is on the features of the political institutions (and the elected representatives) which have permitted these authoritarian dreams to come to reality.

They begin by identify a familiar aspect of US politics — the fact that electoral and congressional processes empower “partisan minorities” in dangerous ways.

The U.S. Constitution allows partisan minorities to routinely thwart majorities, and sometimes even govern them. Institutions that empower partisan minorities can become instruments of minority rule. And they are especially dangerous when they are in the hands of extremist or antidemocratic partisan minorities. (Tyranny, 10)

They emphasize that the extremist themes of the MAGA movement — white supremacy, Christian nationalism, anti-immigrant hatred, and glorification of strongman rule — have never been majority views in the US electorate. But a party exploiting these themes has in fact succeeded in gaining control of Congress, the presidency, and the Supreme Court. And this party has been fully willing to use its power to enforce its agenda on the rest of us.

The authors devote a chapter to several historical episodes of attempted right-wing seizures of power in the twentieth century. The first is an episode in France in 1934 that few of us have heard of. In the 1930s political instability in France, along with economic crises and unemployment, nourished the emergence of a constituency of radical right-wing opposition to French political institutions. These included young men and demobilized soldiers from WWI.

On the afternoon of February 6, 1934, tens of thousands of angry young men, mostly members of veterans’ associations and right-wing militias (or “leagues”) with names like Young Patriots, French Action, and Croix de Feu (Cross of Fire) gathered in or near the prominent Place de la Concorde, across the river from France’s national parliament building. Although the groups diverged in their ideologies and goals, they were united in their hostility toward parliamentary democracy. (Tyranny, 34)

On this winter night a large group of these militants marched on parliament. Clashes with mounted police occurred, and some of the militants were able to enter the parliament. “Members of parliament had to sneak out the back door, frightened for their lives. One minister attempted to escape but was discovered by protesters, who dragged him to the river, changing ‘Throw him in the Seine!’ (He was saved by police officers who happened to be nearby.)” (36)

France’s democracy survived the February 6, 1934, assault. But it was badly weakened. Prime Minister Édouard Daladier immediately resigned. He was replaced by Gaston Doumergue, a right-wing politician who was considered acceptable to the leagues. The goal of some of the insurrectionists had been achieved: the center-left Daladier government had been brought down by street pressure. Right-wing extremists were emboldened and mobilized. (36)

And here is the crucial point: the political leaders of France at this moment of crisis did not stand together in denouncing the violent, anti-democratic assault on the parliament:

Yet France’s leading conservative party, the Republican Federation, took a remarkably tolerant stance toward these extremist groups. Founded in 1903, the Federation had been led for many years by Louis Marin, a man with solid democratic credentials. But in the early 1930s, the party drifted to the right, first flirting with, and then openly embracing, the Young Patriot activists in its midst. Long considered a party of the elite, the Federation grew dependent on the Young Patriots and other far-right leagues as a source of activism and energy. Because the same individuals appeared in both groups, the boundary between the official “party” and the violent activists of the leagues grew harder to discern. (37)

There is a disturbing parallel between the French uprising in 1934 and the January 6 Capitol Insurrection in 2021. It is remarkable and disturbing to see how the Republican Party and Donald Trump have rewritten the history of the January 6 insurrection at the US Capitol. And Trump’s mass pardon of almost 1,600 individuals who were charged or convicted of crimes on that day makes it clear: he condones (and even encouraged) the actions taken by his supporters on that day. He and his MAGA followers seem to agree with the words quoted by Levitsky and Ziblatt from a vice president of the Republican Federation: “martyrs who can never be sufficiently praised or honored, [they] have paid with their lives…. The blood poured out on February 6, 1934 will be a seed of a great national awakening” (38).

Here is the most important conclusion that Ziblatt and Levitsky draw: the most important bulwark of a democracy is a unified rejection across all political parties of violent and anti-constitutional actions, no matter who stands to gain from those actions. And this is precisely where the Republican Party has failed the American public: it has not reaffirmed our shared democratic principles and has entirely failed to denounce efforts to bypass or destroy our democratic institutions.

Democracies get into trouble when mainstream parties tolerate, condone, or protect authoritarian extremists—when they become authoritarian enablers. Indeed, throughout history, cooperation between authoritarians and seemingly respectable semi-loyal democrats has been a recipe for democratic breakdown. (41)

The phrase “semi-loyal democrats” is key to their analysis. This is the weak link in any democracy in which there is prolonged political conflict. These are politicians who officially affirm the constitution and the rule of law; but who look for gestures and language that will establish common ground with the extremist groups and individuals whose actions most threaten constitution and the rule of law. Democratic institutions are most in peril when “semi-loyal democrats” are most numerous.

To be a loyal democrat, Ziblatt and Levitsky argue that political figures must honor four principles:

• expel antidemocratic extremists from their own ranks
• sever all ties — public and private — with allied groups that engage in antidemocratic behavior
• unambiguously condemn political violence and other antidemocratic behavior
• join forces with rival pro-democratic parties to isolate and defeat antidemocratic extremists (41-43)

By these standards, there are very few “loyal democrats” among the elected Republican members of Congress today. John McCain would fall in this category; so would Liz Cheney. Mitch McConnell does not, and, judging from the photo above, neither does Josh Hawley. There are a few others who have shown this kind of principle and courage; but it is not the majority. And this is a great risk to the continuing vitality of our democracy.

The dual state (1938)

Ernst Fraenkel’s book The Dual State: A Contribution to the Theory of Dictatorship offers instructive and ominous reading today. Written during the rise of Hitler’s National-Socialist state by a German Jewish lawyer, it serves as a piece of “ethnographic study of the transformation of the authoritarian state” by a covert participant-observer. Fraenkel published The Dual State in 1941 after he left Germany and joined the faculty at the University of Chicago. Fraenkel (1896-1975) was Jewish, but he was also a veteran of World War I and was therefore exempt for a time from the expulsion of Jews from the legal profession. He wrote a detailed analysis of the creation by the Nazi regime of a dual state. His fundamental insight, explored in detail in the book, is that Hitler’s totalitarian state was in fact a “dual” state. It consisted of a fairly traditional system of laws and rules governing business, contracts, property, and other issues of ordinary life in civil society (the Normative State) and simultaneously it embodied a dictatorial state consisting of edicts and executive orders from the Hitler regime (the Prerogative State).

By the Prerogative State we mean that governmental system which exercises unlimited arbitrariness and violence unchecked by any legal guarantees, and by the Normative State an administrative body endowed with elaborate powers for safeguarding the legal order as expressed in statutes, decisions of the courts, and activities of the administrative agencies. (ix)

Fraenkel’s key insight was that this duality was not transitional; it was not simply a moment in time during the process of creating a totalitarian state that governed every aspect of life in Germany. Instead, it was an ongoing necessity created by the fact that Germany required a reasonably predictable legal and business environment in which companies could do the work of preparing for a war economy. The Normative State could not overrule the dictates of the Prerogative State; but the great bulk of transactions in a modern political and economic system do not need special “one-of-a-kind” dictates to function. And at moments of conflict between the apparatus of the two states, the Prerogative State invariably prevailed.

The National-Socialist state is remarkable not only for its supreme arbitrary powers but also for the way in which it has succeeded in combining arbitrary powers with a capitalistic economic organization. One of the basic propositions of Max Weber’s works is that a rational legal system is indispensable for the operation of a capitalistic economic order. (xiv)

Reading The Dual State in 2026 creates a harrowing sense of familiarity: so many of the steps towards dictatorial rule and the Prerogative State in 1933-36 seem to have close parallels with developments in the United States today. Rule by presidential decree, empowerment of legions of unregulated “Homeland Security police”, and methodical dismissal of existing constitutional limitations on the power of the president — these developments are familiar in the US since January 2025, and Fraenkel documents highly similar steps in the creation of the National-Socialist state in 1933-36.

How did the dictatorial state get established in Germany at the end of the Weimar Republic? The answer is prophetic when we consider the strategy pursued since January 2025. Trump promised to be a “dictator for a day”, and has largely attempted to rule by Executive Order rather than by legislation through Congress. He has expressed contempt for the Federal judiciary and the Congress and has made it plain through his actions and decrees that he intends to rule by fiat. This is precisely how Hitler’s regime began, according to Fraenkel:

Martial Law provides the constitution of the Third Reich. The constitutional charter of the Third Reich is the Emergency Decree of February 28, 1933. On the basis of this decree the political sphere of German public life has been removed from the jurisdiction of the general law. Administrative and general courts aided in the achievement of this condition. The guiding basic principle of political administration is not justice; law is applied in the light of ‘the circumstances of the individual case,’ the purpose being achievement of a political aim. (1)

The legal framework of the Prerogative State was established by conferring “absolute dictatorial power [upon] the Leader and Chancellor either personally or through his subordinate authorities…. The sovereign power of the Leader and Chancellor to act unhampered by restrictions is now thoroughly legalized.” (4)

And what about the forces of repression at the command of the state? Fraenkel shows how this function devolved onto the Secret State Police (Gestapo):

Outstanding among the executive branches of the absolute dictatorship is the Secret State Police (Gestapo). This body has always been and still is organized in accordance with state law. In Prussia, the functions of the Gestapo are regulated by three statutes. The Office of the Secret Police was established in April 1933. The Secret State Police was transformed into a special police force in November 1933. The general powers of the Gestapo were finally defined by the Prussian statute of February 10, 1936, which revoked the earlier statutes. (7)

Again, there is a terrible parallel between this development in 1933 and the sudden and reckless expansion and unleashing of Homeland Security and ICE agents against the citizens of numerous US cities. Has Homeland Security become the Trump administration’s Gestapo?

The next step in the formation of the National-Socialist state in 1933 was to formally establish that the security and police organs of the state were no longer subject to legal limitation or review:

In their enforcement of the Decree of February 28, 1933, the police are neither bound by the provisions of the Constitution nor by any other law. The Prussian Supreme Court (Kammergericht) in a decision of May 31, 1935, held that ‘the Prussian Executive Decree (Durchfuhrimgsverordnung) of March 3, 1933, leaves no doubt that Par. 1 of the Decree of February 28, 1933, . . . removes all federal and state restraints on the power of the police to whatever extent is required for the execution of the aims promulgated in the decree. The question of appropriateness and necessity is not subject to appeal.’ (14)

And in fact, the Gestapo simply disregarded the rulings of high courts concerning its actions:

Although the Reichsgericht [court] supported the Supreme Administrative Court, the Gestapo disregarded its decisions. A leading official of the Gestapo, Ministerialrat Eickhoff, characterized theGestapo as a ‘general staff, responsible for the defense measures as well as the equally necessary offensive measures against all the enemies of the state.’ (18)

So any action taken by Gestapo forces was formally and legally unchallengeable. Fraenkel goes into more detail about the “abolition of judicial review” of police actions later in this same chapter, quoting a legal adviser to the Gestapo.

‘The task of combatting all movements dangerous to the state implies the power of using all necessary means, provided they are not in conflict with the law. Such conflicts with the law, however, are no longer possible since all restrictions have been removed following the Decree of February 28, 1933, and the triumph of National-Socialist legal and political theory.’ (23)

This sounds very close to the claims of “absolute immunity” that leaders within the Trump administration have asserted on behalf of Homeland Security and ICE agents in the conduct of their duties. The murder of Renée Nicole Good, it appears, will go entirely unpunished.

Essentially Fraenkel demonstrates that the Prerogative State of National Socialism depends upon the idea that the Supreme Leader and his associates have complete authority in deciding what is to be done for the nation. No courts, no legal framework, no constitution can limit that authority. Fraenkel notes that an earlier advocate for unlimited monarchical power made very similar arguments for the unlimited and unconstrained authority of the “monarch” three centuries earlier:

More than 300 years ago a similar demand was made in England. King James I, in his famous message to the Star Chamber (June 20, 1616), declared that in political questions the decision rested with the Crown and not with the Courts. ‘Encroach not upon the prerogative of the Crown. If there fall out a question that concerns my prerogative or mystery of State, deal not with it till you consult with the King or his Council or both; for they are transcendent matters … As for the absolute prerogative of the Crown, that is no subject for the tongue of a lawyer, nor is it lawful to be disputed. It is atheism and blasphemy to dispute what God can do . . . so it is presumption and high contempt in a subject to dispute what a King can do, or say that a King cannot do this or that. (36)

No wonder the demonstrations around the United States expressing citizen resistance to the authoritarianism of the Trump regime are organized around the slogan, “No Kings!”. We live in a constitutional republic, and no individual or party is unconstrained by constitution and law.