Mogelson (a journalist who writes about war for the New Yorker) opens his book on January 6, 2021. He was there, mixing with the insurrectionists as they breached the Capitol. They didn't know he was a journalist (of course) so they spoke freely. And then it's the following morning, January 7. A crowd of people in red MAGA and TRUMP 2020 hats assembles near the Lincoln Memorial. One woman is carrying a yellow Gadsen flag -- "Don't tread on me," written beneath a snake poised to strike. When a police officer tells her that such displays aren't allowed at the monument, the crowd angrily converges on the police, yelling at them, cursing them, giving them the middle finger, shouting "Christ is king!"
The woman with the flag was a pastor from Los Angeles. She tells Mogelson, "I know that had to be Antifa," she said of the attack on the Capitol. "I know it did. Because everyone here" -- she gestured at the livid crowd berating the police -- "there's such a spirit of community." She began to weep. "How dare they?" she demanded of the officers."What is wrong with this country? This is not my America? I don't understand." When Mogelson asks her what lies ahead she says, sobbing, "I will tell you this. I will not turn the other cheek to what's not right. This is not right. This is not right."
"The Storm is Here" is a book of reportage, not history. It has an immediacy -- particularly in its illumination of what was taking place at ground level -- most of the other works about the last 6+ years don't. Because he was able to become "embedded" among the various groups of angry Americans (much as he did with soldiers and police in Iraq and Afghanistan), Mogelson was able to see and hear things other writers couldn't. His talk with the California pastor will quickly give way to when he returned home from overseas utterly perplexed by what he was seeing in America's response to Covid. But this brief vignette captures so much of what will follow: the odd alchemy of fear, ardent religion, nationalist fervor, anger, rejection of institutions, and delusion. Most definitely delusion: people angrily, furiously, unshakably holding on to the most fantastic and irrational notions of what they were seeing. And, perhaps most infuriatingly, the more bizarre and impossible the conspiracy, the more it was likely to be endorsed by politicians, pundits, and celebrities eager to take advantage of their credulity.
“The Storm is Here” is Mogelson’s record of the year or more that he spent traveling from Minneapolis to Portland to Lansing, Michigan, to DC — covering the BLM demonstrations that turned violent, the growth of White supremacist groups (some cloaking themselves in Christian identity, others in neo-Nazi or Norse regalia, men dressed in military garb as they storm state capitols, men dressed in outrageous garb like buffalo horns and a shirt at the Capitol that read “Camp Auschwitz staff), dressed in black and smashing windows, setting fires.)
He summarizes his journey this way: Over the course of 2020, while on assignment for The New Yorker, I witnessed frustration with COVID-19 policies grow into a fanatical anti-government movement, which became a militarized opposition to demands for racial justice, which became an organized crusade against democracy. January 6 was not the apotheosis of that evolution: it was another stage.
How did it happen? What was behind the politicization of a deadly pandemic? What was it that angry people, particularly on the Right, believed they were seeing? “The longer I stayed in Michigan,” he says, “the clearer it became that many anti-lockdowners sincerely placed mask mandates and concentration camps on the same continuum.” Police who try to enforce mass mandates are not cops but Storm Troopers who by all rights should be wearing Nazi uniforms. Covid-19 was a hoax, a plot designed by Democrats and globalists and Jews (although, interestingly, a recurring motif in insurrectionist talking points was that they, the true Americans, will not 'acquiesce to their enslavement and murder as the pitiable Jews did to the Nazis.') -- all for one purpose: to get Donald Trump out of the White House and keep him out. The 2020 election was absolutely, unquestionably stolen by… well, by the very same nefarious bunch of globalists, child sex traffickers and “fucking Commies,” not to mention, as Trump attorney Sidney Powell informed us, Venezuelans, Italians, Serbians, Germans, and people in Hong Kong, and corrupt voting machine manufacturers like Dominion Voting Systems. “Globalists, dictators, corporations, you name it.” (Later, when Dominion sued Powell for defamation, she argued that “no reasonable person” could have mistaken any of her “outlandish claims” as “statements of fact,” pretty much the same defense used by Tucker Carlson’s attorneys in his defamation suit.)
Mogelson spent months crossing the country and talking to men and women on all sides of that terrible year: The crazies who say the world is being attacked by shape-shifting alien lizard people, the ex-cons who became online influencers in the Stop the Steal movement, the many people who feel themselves undeserving losers in life suddenly finding purpose and community in a 'noble' cause, the armed militant Christian nationalists, the outright racists and antisemites, Black citizens in Minneapolis and elsewhere drawn into action by the murders of George Floyd and others, the anarchists. We get insight into how they see the world, who they see as their enemies. (Mogelson draws the reader’s attention to certain telling commonalities in activity on the Right and Left.)
Several things became clear to Mogelson as he crossed the country: first, how genuinely terrified people on the Right are — of being erased, replaced, silenced, ignored; second, that a lot of people are willing to say anything in search of fame and prestige, no matter how outlandish and dangerously provocative; third, that the angry Right's world view has them living in a kind of mirror world where they are the true patriots trying to save America and the Constitution from usurpers and tyrants, that they are following in the path of the Founding Fathers, that they are acting as God's agents in the battle against evil, and that Donald Trump is the only person strong enough and honest enough to expose the conspirators on the Left.
Of course, there was/is no shortage of Republican office-holders willing to perpetuate the lies and conspiracies, and even call for violence. Mogelson quotes many of them.
Drawing on his experience in countries torn by civil war (the book offers some very interesting observations contrasting what he encountered in Iraq and Afghanistan with what he found here), Mogelson contemplates what violence might lie in our future, why makes the situation in the US different from what’s happened elsewhere. Were large-scale violence to erupt in the US, it would be something different: a war fueled not by injury but by delusion… When [insurrectionist groups] raised the prospect of civil war, there was no limit to the violence that might be perpetrated because there was no limit to the crimes that would provoke it. Both were products of the imagination… The problem for these men—and for the rest of us—is that, because the only real thing about their war is their own belligerence, their own fear, they can never win. They can only rage endlessly against elusive phantoms.
In a sense, “The Storm in Here” is a guided tour down the rabbit hole to a place in which truth, fact, and reason are all ephemeral; where people can cynically say whatever they like knowing full well they are lying but also knowing that the more agitated their followers are, the more prominence or celebrity they themselves will have; where lies can be promulgated and amplified for financial gain or political power or TV ratings; where men and women who feel powerless, unheard, passed by and demeaned, can find an explanation for their predicament and an enemy they can blame.
All this makes it a deeply distressing book to read — well reported, brave (I can’t imagine what it was like for Mogelson to be in the middle of the violence), and censorious in its coverage of politicians like Gosar, Cruz, Boebert, McCarthy, and others. There were times I found it almost gut-wrenching to read. Yet I couldn't put it down, couldn't turn away. The question it puts before us, I think, is how are we to respond to the conspiracy believers? How do we hold our emotional responses to the lies -- the outrage, scorn, feelings of superiority, etc. -- at arms length so we can hear what's being said behind and beneath the craziness? Not to validate or endorse the fantastical but to recognize that people who fall into this kind of thinking are hurting. Or have we reached the point where common ground and empathy are entirely tribal?
If I have one quibble about the book, it is this: I wish Mogelson could have offered some idea of how big the threat is. Are there millions of would-be insurrectionists willing to take up arms, or does reporting on these movements make them appear larger than they are? It may be that such estimations are unreliable beyond the scope of this book. But it would be nice to know how dire our situation truly is.