It
Can’t Happen Here, or Has it?
JAMES
R. FISHER, JR., Ph.D.
©
August 4, 2017
When I was a teenage boy,
I read “It Can’t Happen Here” (1935) by Sinclair Lewis (1885-1951), an American
political novelist and satirist who received the Nobel Prize for Literature (1930)
for a series of powerful novels:
“Main Street” (1920) describes
smug self-satisfied Americans who consider their hometowns flawless while
clueless of the world beyond;
“Babbitt” (1922) is the
main character who typifies American complacent mediocrity in business behaving
with the acumen and boring consistency of his standardized cigar lighter, worshiping
his gadgets, money and fine cars as indicators of his American virtue;
“Arrowsmith” (1925) attempts
to expose the American doctor complacent mediocrity the way “Babbitt” had done for
the American businessman.
“It Can’t Happen Here”
(1930) was somewhat of a departure imagining the rise of Nazi Germany and the
totalitarian regime being manifested in the United States when a demented
populous politician rises to the presidency and dissolves the checks and
balances of America’s constitutional democracy.
Windrip, once in power, rapidly outlaws dissent, incarcerates political enemies in concentration camps, and trains and arms a paramilitary force called the Minute Men, who terrorize citizens and enforce the policies of Windrip and his "corporatist" regime. One of his first acts as president is to eliminate the influence of the United States Congress, which draws the ire of many citizens as well as the legislators themselves. But there are always apologists before the fact in this book. To wit:
“They'll all be convinced that, even if our Buzzy (Berzelius "Buzz" Windrip) defeats Franklin Delano Roosevelt and is elected President of the United States, maybe (even though he) has got a few faults, he's on the side of the plain people, and against all the tight old political machines, and they'll rouse the country for him as the Great Liberator (and meanwhile Big Business will just wink and sit tight!) and then, by God, this crook—oh, I don't know whether he's more of a crook or an hysterical religious fanatic . . . will be able to set up a régime that'll remind you of Henry Morgan the pirate capturing a merchant ship.”
Then regarding a journalist who attempted to alert the country to the danger Windrip represented:
“There were two things, they told Doremus (the political journalist opposed to the new regime) that distinguished this prairie Demosthenes (President Windrip). He was an actor of genius. There was no more overwhelming actor on the stage, in the motion pictures, nor even in the pulpit. He would whirl arms, bang tables, glare from mad eyes, vomit Biblical wrath from a gaping mouth; but he would also coo like a nursing mother, beseech like an aching lover, and in between tricks would coldly and almost contemptuously jab his crowds with figures and facts - figures and facts that were inescapable even when, as often happened, they were entirely incorrect.”
It has often occurred to me that these books of Sinclair Lewis had a powerful impression on my young mind as a teenager that I’m sure are reflected – to some extent – in my writing today as a man in his last innings. My reaction has been somewhat more circumspect if not more surprised, given the current preoccupation of the media and Congress with President Donald J. Trump’s possible connection and collusion with Russia to win the presidency.
Over the years, mainly when I was flying about the world on various assignments, I would read many of British espionage novelist Ted Allbeury’s (1917-2005) spy novels, but I had never read his “The Twentieth Day of January” (1980) until now.
THE SOVIET UNION ATTEMPTS TO MAKE THE U.S. PRESIDENCY ITS PUPPET
This fantasy espionage novel published in 1980 predicted the rise of the Donald to the Presidency of the United States thirty seven years ago. It imagined the blatant and incredible collusion of a President-elect with the Soviet Union. Consider the time.
It is 1980 and the Cold War continues to rage on. Seemingly out of nowhere, wealthy businessman Logan Powell has become President-elect and is only weeks away from assuming the most powerful position in the world on the twentieth day of January.
Across the Atlantic, veteran British intelligence agent James MacKay uncovers shocking evidence that suggests something might be terribly wrong with the election. With the help of a reluctant CIA, MacKay sets out on a dangerous and daring mission to discover if the unthinkable has occurred: is President-elect Powell actually a puppet of the Soviet Union?
This remarkably plausible thriller offers a heady mix of political intrigue and intense suspense — with the very future of America and the free world hanging in the balance. It does not have John Le Carre panache, but it is a workmanlike effort to show in the era of modern technology that the impossible is possible if not inevitable.
Ted Allbeury, bestselling author and former lieutenant colonel in British Intelligence, captures with wit and style the high stakes of this eerily prescient spy story.
How Logan Powell went from a lecturer at Yale to a successful consultant to breaking a union strike to a state governor to the political nominee of the Republican Party to the President-elect is one of American and Soviet intrigue with a gaggle of co-conspirators, while Powell himself chooses to claim ignorance while seized with blind ambition.
Here (in my italics) is the President-elect talking to reporters outside his aircraft in the bitter cold as described by author Allbeury in a too familiar and unsettling rhetoric:
He (Logan Powell) looked even younger than Kennedy . . . He was forty in two weeks’ time . . . He craned forward to catch the first question.
“Have you any comment to make on the statement issued today from Bonn regarding US troops in Europe?”
“Yes, I think that the Federal German Chancellor is saying to the American people – remember your commitments in Europe.”
"And
what is your answer, sir?”
“Our
commitments remain, but the form of our demonstration of that commitment will
not necessarily, in the future, be represented by American forces in
Europe. They could be sent there when,
and if, they are needed.”
“There
have been recent comments from the Pentagon indicating that without US troops
in Europe, Soviet forces would be at the English Channel in a couple of
days. Have you any comment?”
Powell
smiled. “Not unless they’re all driving
Ferraris. Europe’s a big area, ma’am.”
“Could
I have a serious answer, Mr. Powell?”
“Yes,
of course. My administration are already
preparing an agenda for talks with the Soviet leaders. They are spending billions of roubles (sic)
on missiles and weapons. We are
spending billions of dollars doing the same.
There comes a point when this madness has to stop.” He paused.
“So far as I am concerned it stops on January twenty.”
“Did
you discuss the effect on California unemployment of a cut-back in the arms
programme (sic) while you were in Los Angeles?”
“I
certainly did, and I made clear that my administration will give the highest
priority to providing alternative work to all those areas of the country
affected by these changes.”
“What
do you expect the Soviet reaction to be, sir?”
“I
guess they’ll start making more freezers and colour (sic) TVs.”
“There
has been talk of a possible trade and peace pact with the Soviets. What would you say to that?”
“I
like trade, Mr. O’Dell, and I like peace.
That’s what I’d say.”
“But
what would be your first action in response?”
Powell
looked down at his feet and stamped them before he looked up. “I guess my first action would be to break
open a bottle of champagne.” He looked
around. “And now, ladies and gentlemen,
I must go. I don’t want to read in the
headlines tomorrow that the President-elect admits he’s got cold feet.”
There
was the ripple of laughter and a barrage of flashes, and Powell turned to walk
to the car (pp. 104 – 105).
With the influence of
the Soviet Union well placed in the President-elect’s inner circle, Moscow was
confident in its plans to have the newly elected president withdraw US troops
and satellite launchers from Europe, start the process of disassembling NATO,
developing a game plan to withdraw American troops across the globe, cutting
defense spending to pre-WWII levels, and ultimately bypassing the US Congress
and the Supreme Court as arbiters of “checks and balances.”
If anyone has ever
viewed the television series, “The Americans,” which deals with Russian spies having
been successfully integrated into American society as a typical American family,
you can imagine how palpable and pragmatic espionage intrigue can ultimately be.
We have become a
paranoid nation in a paranoid world. As
legitimate as the presidency of Donald J. Trump may prove to be or not to be, novels
such as this will always play on our fears.
Indeed, after a twenty-five year absence, John LeCarre is set to bring
back his George Smiley of “Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy” fame in another
espionage novel.
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