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I AM AT MY FARM NEAR THE BORDER THAT SEPARATES VIRGINIA from West Virginia. This morning, upon awakening, I poured a cup of coffee, put on a jacket, and walked outside to greet the cows who replied with a hearty chorus of moos. Having exhausted their vocabulary, I returned to the house, took a deep breath, switched on the television, and began writing this.

My desktop calendar is turned to December 2018. Last month, I was among the tens of millions of Americans who went to the polls, thus participating in democracy’s signature rite. The balloting in the midterm election was described by many—including the president—as a referendum on the leadership of Donald Trump. As such, the results were inconclusive, but to me, mildly encouraging. The Democrats regained control of the House of Representatives although the Republicans, as expected, increased their majority in the Senate. Maneuvering for the next big election has already commenced. I pray the campaign will be uplifting—but confess to harboring doubts.

This book, Fascism: A Warning, rose from the wreckage of 2016, for many of us a year of bewilderment. First the British were lured into Brexit by the false promise of a new relationship with the European Union, one they mistakenly thought would enable them to retain their rights while shedding their responsibilities. Then, in November, Donald Trump won a majority in the American electoral college despite violating every precept of conventional political wisdom (aside from remaining in the public eye) from the beginning of his campaign until the end. Few believed that could happen, but it did.

Even before the 2016 balloting, I had decided to write about the toils and snares confronting democracies around the world. My idea was to make support for free governments a foreign policy priority in Hillary Clinton’s first term. The political upheaval following the election added urgency to the task, and partially shifted the focus to include Trump’s take-no-prisoners approach to governing. Where in the past I could assume that the U.S. government would put its foot down on the side of democratic institutions and values, Trump’s foot has been fully engaged in kicking America’s allies, the independent press, federal prosecutors, immigrant families, and the notion—stressed to most children at an early age—that facts matter.

The resulting book was published originally in hardcover in April 2018. I dared hope then that the fears I express in its pages would quickly prove exaggerated. Alas, that has not been the case.

During the interval between then and now, heads of government with an autocratic bent have won reelection in Russia, Hungary, Egypt, Venezuela, Turkey, Azerbaijan, and Cambodia. In each case, the field of competition was tilted heavily in favor of the incumbent. These were not fair elections. In Brazil, voters fed up with corruption, crime, and recession turned to an openly misogynistic right-wing candidate who promises quick solutions based, in part, on a full-scale retreat from environmental stewardship. In Europe and elsewhere, extreme nationalist movements continue to scale the ramparts—shifting the terms of debate, moving into legislatures, and grabbing for themselves a thicker slice of power. Italy’s new leaders boast of their refusal to knuckle under to regional norms. In Syria, the brutal dictator Bashar al-Assad still flaunts his ability to dominate seven years after an American president urged his removal. In the Middle East, more fissures are opening due to such shocks as the cold-blooded murder and dismemberment of a reporter in the Saudi Arabian consulate in Istanbul. Worldwide, there are more refugees huddled in camps than there have been since the Nazi surrender almost three-quarters of a century ago, and the United States is less welcoming to the international homeless now than at any time in modern memory.

According to an old Czech saying, it’s no trick to make soup from a fish, but making a fish out of soup is a challenge. In the chapters to come, I argue that ambitious, often arrogant leaders are intentionally undermining the institutions and democratic principles that have held the world together through much of my life. Without offering anything real or better, they ask us to abandon the ideals of international cooperation, political pluralism, civil discourse, critical thinking, and truth. The longer these false prophets have their way, the more damage they will wreak and the more difficult it will be to heal the wounds they are opening. The trend is worldwide, and among those most directly affected are Americans.

In traveling around the United States to discuss this book, I have shared my thoughts with thousands of people from every region. The experience was bracing—and a little odd. In Las Vegas, my appearance coincided with a convention of the wine and spirits industry. Behind the table at which I signed books for both the sober and the tipsy, a banner read: MAKE WHISKEY GREAT AGAIN. Despite all the attention given to the “me too” movement, a gentleman in Miami rose to his feet and said, “I’m ninety years old, but I haven’t lost my eyesight, and you’re a good-looking gal.” An article in the Washington Post referred to me as “a lovable feminist granny.” By contrast, a man in Brooklyn who heard me speak told a reporter later that I was a “war mongering ghoul,” this according to a Russian newspaper. At every stop, when I opened the floor to questions, a hundred hands flew up.

Overall, I found the national mood to be cranky; and it’s no wonder we’re on edge. Our political parties are at war with one another and fracturing internally at the same time. We have a president who considers it good politics to drive our citizens apart and whose approach to world affairs prompts many among us to cringe while others stick out their chests. Common ground is hard to find; instead, we are at each other’s throats. Even now, with the volume on my television turned low, I can hear the yelling.

In this book, I offer both a historical perspective and a global one. Many of the trends we now see were also evident in much earlier decades. This leads to some important questions: What lessons can we derive for the future from the horrors perpetrated long ago by the followers of Mussolini and Hitler? Where do we draw the line between the simple abuse of authority and the gross misrule we call Fascism? How can we explain the alarming rise and contagious spread of anti-democratic trends? Is the hitherto unshakable bond between Europe and the United States unraveling and, if so, can it still be mended? What must we do to ensure the preservation of freedom for our children and those who will come after?

My farm provides a good vantage point from which to ponder such topics. Like a democracy at work, the property is vulnerable both to sudden storms and to the encroachment of termites, pests, viruses, and weeds. There are predators in the woods, reptiles on the ground, and—overhead—occasional bolts of lightning. Survival depends on adherence to a rigorous schedule of maintenance. Yet the farm is also resilient, having endured for generations, its evergreens still majestic and its foundation, though set in the rock of an earlier era, satisfyingly firm.

In recent years, we have all become familiar with the counterterrorism mantra: “See something, say something.” In the pages that follow, I propose an added exhortation—do something. What that something might be is for each of us to decide in accordance with our opportunities and talents, but it begins by pushing back harder against the debilitating cancer of cynicism.

Fascist attitudes take hold when there are no social anchors and when the perception grows that everybody lies, steals, and cares only about him- or herself. That is when the yearning is felt for a strong hand to protect against the evil “other”—whether Jew, Muslim, black, so-called redneck, or so-called elite. Flawed though our institutions may be, they are the best that four thousand years of civilization have produced and cannot be cast aside without opening the door to something far worse. The wise response to intolerance is not more intolerance or self-righteousness; it is a coming together across the ideological spectrum of people who want to make democracies more effective. We should remember that the heroes we cherish—Lincoln, King, Gandhi, Mandela—spoke to the best within us. The crops we’ll harvest depend on the seeds we sow.

I look once more through the window and can see that the winter sun is now high in the sky. The air outside is warming and it has occurred to me that there might be value in taking a long walk, gathering my thoughts, then initiating a discussion on the herd instinct with my four-legged friends.

Thank you in advance for your interest in this book.

MADELEINE ALBRIGHT

LOUDOUN COUNTY, VIRGINIA

DECEMBER 2018