Beyond the Abyss: Facing Denial and Dictatorship

As I was finishing Nuclear War, Annie Applebaum’s troubling book on what the descent into an apocalyptic nuclear exchange might look like, a movie variation aired on Showtime. In the movie, The Sum of All Fears, rookie CIA analyst Jack Ryan, played by a young Ben Affleck, survives a nuclear attack on Baltimore and saves us from World War III at the last minute. He does it by speaking frankly with Russia’s president. Sure, that could happen.

In the book’s granular and more realistic scenario, civilization is destroyed after North Korea initiates a “bolt out of the blue” — aka surprise — attack. It’s a dire warning about the utter insanity of such an unwinnable war.

This reminded me of Friedrich Nietzsche’s lament, “If you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back at you.” His point was to warn about the danger of fixating on the negative, losing perspective and becoming too cynical about what we see. These days we need to take that to heart.

On the other hand, it’s also dangerous not to recognize uncomfortable realities that stare us in the face. Despite the relief we might feel when engrossed in the Hollywood version of a catastrophe averted, most people sense that in the real world no hero will come to the rescue. Such wishful thinking is a temporary escape into denial. Unfortunately, millions choose that.

 

Denial often distorts how we address modern problems, important things like preserving what remains of democracy across the planet. Even before Trump’s re-election, at least 70 percent of the world's population — about 5.7 billion — was living under dictatorships, according to a report from the Varieties of Democracy (V-Dem) Institute. This should be shocking, but it’s mostly just ignored.

The late 1980s and early 1990s did bring on a surge in democratization movements, which challenged many dictatorships and led to a transition to more democratic governance in several countries. But since then dictatorships have been on the rise worldwide.

Democratic decline has been most dramatic in the Pacific region, Eastern Europe, Central Asia, Latin America, and the Caribbean. It’s a sad fact that the number of countries currently experiencing democratic setbacks, or becoming autocracies, has increased since 2010. One popular euphemism is illiberal democracy.

On most lists, more than 50 countries are now classified as dictatorships or authoritarian regimes. It may sound like an exaggeration, but here’s a list —  from the more to least free: Mali, Mauritania, Kuwait, Algeria, Burkina Faso, Angola, Iraq, Jordan, Nicaragua, Gabon, Mozambique, Ethiopia, Russia, Niger, Qatar, Zimbabwe, Kazakhstan, Republic of the Congo, Cambodia, Rwanda, Comoros, Eswatini, Guinea, Myanmar, Oman, Vietnam, Egypt, Afghanistan, Cuba, Togo, Cameroon, Venezuela, Djibouti, United Arab Emirates, Azerbaijan, Guinea-Bissau, Belarus, Sudan, Bahrain, China, Iran, Eritrea, Burundi, Uzbekistan, Saudi Arabia, Libya, Yemen, Tajikistan, Equatorial Guinea, Laos, Turkmenistan, Chad, Syria, Central African Republic, Democratic Republic of the Congo, and North Korea. You may dispute the order, but few would call them democracies.

The thing is, you won’t find the United States on such dictatorship lists. But at this point it ought to be. That’s another example of denial. Despite the mounting evidence, most Americans persist in believing we simply have very conservative leadership at the moment, or that it might become a “constitutional crisis.” They think that diplomacy, compromise and orderly transitions remain possible, even with those who no longer believe in these ideas. 

Both President Trump and his Vice President J.D. Vance have made their position quite clear: the most dangerous enemies, they say, are the  “enemies within.” As a result, it seems foolish not to realize that they and faithful members of the MAGA movement will do just about anything to defeat, prosecute, jail or even eliminate these “threats.” And the list is growing.

The real question is what kind of dictatorship we have, and where things go from here. We don’t know for certain that Trump and Vladimir Putin have a formal alliance, but there is little evidence to contradict, and much to confirm that grim conclusion. The latest clue is Trump’s so-called “final” proposal for Ukraine’s acquiescence to one-sided peace terms with Russia. 

This new partnership also appears to include Hungary, Turkey, Israel and other client states. Accepting that there is a new global authoritarian alliance, a veritable league of despots, is painful but necessary. The main lingering question is how China fits in.

Maybe the confusion stems from the fact that America’s tyranny is not one of the more typical kinds. It’s not a military dictatorship or a one-party state, controlled by the leadership of a single political party. Republicans have congressional majorities, but no longer much practical influence. Instead, the nation has drifted into a personalist dictatorship, one controlled by a single individual who claims absolute power, defies the courts, ignores congress, dismantles agencies and institutions, rejects equality and human rights, and enforces his will through fear. He doesn’t govern, he rules — however it suits him day to day. And we also have state media in the form of Fox news, excusing and rationalizing most of it.

It looks like a throwback to Roman or Russian empire style. Or if you like, old England. In what is known as the Eleven Year Tyranny, from 1629 to 1640, King Charles I was an absolute monarch who paid no attention to parliament. In fact, during the third year of his reign, he dissolved it. Charles had reached a simplistic conclusion: as long as he avoided war, he didn’t need a legislature.

Like Trump, King Charles thought he had the right to make and change laws at will. Assuming he had a divine right to rule, he believed that those who disagreed with him were in contempt of God. But his refusal to take advice or follow any laws eventually undermined his popularity and led to a horrific civil war, the bloodiest ever fought in Britain.

Another example of denial is the idea that Trump is incompetent and impulsive, with no overarching game plan. Maybe that’s comforting for those who think he’s not capable of being an effective tyrant. When Bill Maher recently met with him, the comedian expressed pleasant surprise to find that Trump wasn’t crazy. “A crazy person doesn't live in the White House,” he reported glibly on his show. “A person who plays a crazy person on TV a lot lives there.” Is that any better? In fact, it’s probably more dangerous. It makes him a high functioning sociopath.

Maher’s account suggests that nothing Trump says and claims to want can be trusted. He was apparently seduced, however, coming away with the feeling that Trump might even “accept me as a possible friend.” Mission accomplished. But sociopaths don’t have friends, or any regard for others. Their characteristic behaviors are lies, law and ruling breaking, and a lack of concern for the safety of anyone else. In this sense at least, Trump is consistent.

The good news is that, more than likely, it won’t end well for America’s wannabe king. He may not be assassinated, but there are many ways to exit as ugly as he arrived. 

The average length of a dictator’s reign is from 10 to 13 years. Some cling to power for decades, but most are overthrown much sooner, and a few die of natural causes. Military dictatorships are usually less stable, tending on average to last only about five years. Trump’s reign will probably run for at least eight, not counting his Mar-a-lago interregnum.

In 1649, Charles I was ultimately sentenced to death and beheaded in public. About a century later, in Russia, Peter III was likely assassinated, and, in 1917, Nicholas II was gunned down by soldiers with his wife, four daughters, and son before the revolution. 

Italy’s Benito Mussolini remained in power for more than twenty years, but was shot, then hung in public in 1945. As WWII ended, Japan’s Hideki Tojo, Norway’s Vidkun Quisling and Romania’s Ion Antonescu were all tried and executed for war crimes. Hitler avoided that fate by committing suicide; his “1,000 year reich” had lasted only twelve.

During the 1960s, Dominican Republic strongman Rafael Trujillo Molina was gunned down; his assassins included one of his generals. In South Vietnam, Ngo Dinh Diem was bayoneted and shot. In the 1970s, Park Chung-hee of South Korea was also shot — by a former friend during a dinner party. Francisco Macías Nguema of Equatorial Guinea was tried for genocide, embezzlement, and treason, then executed.

Nicaragua’s Anastasio Somoza was ousted, but then shot down in 1980 when guerilla gunmen caught up with him. Romanian dictator Nicolae Ceausescu was ultimately put on trial for crimes against the state and publicly executed in 1989. In the next decade, Liberia’s Samuel Doe was tortured for 12 hours before he was killed.

The big three unhappy endings in the 21st century so far have been Laurent Kabila, the Congo ruler who was shot by one of his own bodyguards; Iraq’s Saddam Hussein, who was convicted of war crimes in Baghdad and hung; and Muammar Gadhafi, who ruled Libya for 42 years before being toppled by rebels, tracked down and executed on sight.

This is by no means a complete list, but does illustrate how things could go for Trump. More likely, he’ll attempt to hold onto power after his legal term ends, but find that resistance and civilian rule make that difficult. There could be a civil war; his most fanatic followers already wanted that after he lost in 2020. But it’s equally possible, based on his countless abuses of power, that he’ll ultimately be forced to face his own dark abyss, or perhaps flee to a safe haven in another tyrant’s domain.

Rough Passage: America’s Slow Road to Fascism

We’ve heard the word “unprecedented” so often since 2016 that it has become a cliche. But is it accurate? Or have we seen much of this before? And more important, are we experiencing a short-term authoritarian surge that fades when Trump is finally gone, or is this a deeper and longer turn toward fascism? It’s impossible to be sure, but we do have clues and historical evidence to consider.

Let’s start with the basics. In The Anatomy of Fascism, Robert O. Paxton looks at how modern anxieties – from immigration and economic insecurity to urban “decadence” and national decline — can create conditions for mass-based, populist nationalist movements. In recent years, we’ve seen a rise in nationalist propaganda, hate crimes and “strongman” regimes in countries ranging from Turkey, Hungary and the Philippines to the US.

And how do fascists gain and exercise power? Common steps include political deadlock in the face of domestic crisis, threatened conservatives desperate for tough allies and ready to abandon the rule of law, and a charismatic leader ready to mobilize passions through race-tinged demagoguery. We’ve witnessed all of these in the past decade. But Paxton also notes that most capitalists, even if they view democracy as a nuisance, would prefer an authoritarian to a fascist. The former usually prefers a passive, disengaged public. 

But fascists, who have such contempt for people and reason that they don’t even bother to justify their excesses, tend to get people excited and engaged. That has begun to happen since Donald Trump recaptured the presidency.  

When I think about Mussolini’s fascism in Italy, it’s hard not to be reminded of Trump. The power of the Duce (Italian for leader) was also based more on charisma than consistency, and drew from a sense of victimhood that fueled aggression, unilateral quick fixes, and a desperate yearning to recapture a glorious, yet mythical past. While World War II ended Mussolini’s tyranny, it didn’t eliminate the seductive appeal of fascism's totalitarian approach and mindset.

One of the earliest warnings was provided by Sinclair Lewis while Mussolini was still in power. In his 1936 novel, It Can’t Happen Here, a Vermont country editor watches aghast as a racist, flag-waving demagogue named Buzz Windrip wins the presidential election and establishes a repressive regime much like Nazi Germany. Soon the most liberal members of the Supreme Court resign, replaced by unqualified sycophants.

At the time few people heeded Lewis’ satirical warning, even though fascism was on full view in Germany and Italy, and was about to be embraced by high-ranking officers in Japan. Western appeasement and indecision continued as Mussolini took control of Albania, Ethiopia and Eritrea, and as Hitler repudiated the Versailles treaty, which had ended World War I, then made pacts with the other Axis powers.

Shortly after the release of Lewis’s prophetic novel, a stage version opened simultaneously in 21 theaters in 17 states. But despite its popularity the cautious pre-war climate in Hollywood derailed a film project, which was considered too anti-fascist, and the story remained too-hot-to-handle for decades. Eventually, it was the inspiration for a TV series, V, but the fascists were replaced by aliens. Later, it inspired the film V for Vendetta.

The tyranny imagined by Lewis didn’t take hold in the US during the World War II years. But the country came close before the war, and a more subtle form, what philosopher Bertram Gross named “friendly fascism,” soon began to develop. 

Big business and big government built an international establishment, an elite club of billionaires, corporate top dogs, CEOs, and their favored employees and friends. Meanwhile, the public was misled by a series of lies, false assumptions and myths. They were told, for example, that communism and socialism were so dangerous — when they weren’t derided as bankrupt ideas, of course — that they justified any form of repression and a massive military to prevent the infection from spreading. There was also a massive, media-fueled campaign to convince people that capitalism was based on competitive free enterprise rather than monopoly power and escalating inequality, and that powerful corporations and billionaires didn’t really control markets and entire economies. 

Another early warning came during the presidency of Richard Nixon, a would-be king who eventually faced resistance. Impoundment of federal funds led to work stoppages, government reorganization produced instability, and central leadership through information control was a clumsy attempt to repress dissent. The US began to look in as if it was replicating the political degradation of Rome. 

In 44 BC, Julius Caesar had become dictator of the world's most powerful empire. Although the new monarch reorganized local administration, his "vulgar scheming for the tawdriest mockeries of personal worship," as H.G. Wells put it, became a silly and shameful record of his rule. The air buzzed with talk of democracy and the proletariat. Meanwhile, however, most eligible voters joined elite clubs. Politicians depended upon usurers and the clubs. The sham of democracy forced the cheated and suppressed to use other methods of expression: strikes and insurrection.

Caesar's rule lasted only four years — less even than Nixon’s — and ended in assassination by his “friends” and supporters when his aspirations to power and greatness became intolerable. In Wells’ words, he was "beset in the senate....the scene marks the complete demoralization of the old Roman governing body."

Government-business symbiosis was well underway during the Nixon and Carter years, but the radical right extended its reach dramatically during Reagan’s regime.  A profound paradigm shift had begun, Kurt Andersen concludes in Evil Geniuses: The Unmaking of America, a change equivalent in scale and scope to the 1930s. It radically changed the foundation of the US legal system as well as the conduct of businesses and the financial industry, and led some liberals to distance themselves from principles that had once defined progress. 

Among the key first steps was an unprecedented merger binge. This not only undermined economic recovery but accelerated a massive redistribution of wealth to the top. Average wages would stagnate for the next 40 years.

Another change was also underway, a movement to the right by the ultra-rich. Reagan’s tactics included draconian federal criminal laws, politically motivated grand juries, union-busting, purges, surveillance, and the gradual transformation of basic rights into privileges.

Although rarely acknowledged, it was clear by then that the weaponizing of fear didn’t only come in the form of overt violence, persecution or prosecution. The withholding of privileges or rewards was also effective. Deep fears were fed by inflation, deficits, unemployment, job insecurity and nuclear anxiety.

Along with the merging of government and big business came an open-ended commitment to military “superiority”  and increased concentration of wealth at the top. Reagan was, after all, a career spokesman for corporate America. But Presidents Carter and Clinton were not saviors, just friendlier faces. The choices were always limited.

After two Bush presidencies — a warning sign that democracy was devolving into dynasty — the meteoric rise of Barack Obama at first suggested a break with the past. But by the end of 2008, as soon as he revealed his cabinet and key staff, you could feel the air leaking out of the change bubble. Many of them had a record of support for corporate-friendly trade pacts, cutting public assistance as a “reform” strategy, and deregulatory policies. It was more like a team of insiders than a team of rivals.

Obama did strike a different tone than Bush on foreign policy, offering the Muslim world "a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect." Yet he remained silent during an Israeli assault on Gaza — carried out, by the way, with US-built F-16 jets and Apache helicopters after a blockade that cut off food and medicine.

Red flags also included a call for more US troops in Afghanistan, a misleading impression about how soon and how many soldiers would be removed from Iraq, unspecified bailout amounts for unspecified purposes with unspecified oversight, a budget director who favored cutting Social Security, and an attorney general who supported continued immunity for illegal wiretapping and secret searches of library and bookstore files. Plus, support for the war on drugs, the Patriot Act, and the death penalty.

CIA chief Leon Panetta made it clear that extraordinary rendition wouldn't end, the attorney general used "state secrets" as the rationale to block a trial, and Obama personally refused to release photos of enhanced interrogation. He also decided that past official crimes wouldn’t be prosecuted. 

The Bush regime had armed Obama with extended authority to take executive action, both domestically and in countries with which the US had disagreements. Using that power, his overseas strategy looked a lot like rollback, reversing gains made by “troublesome” governments and movements. This involved a combination of open military intervention, slippery diplomatic rhetoric, and deniable covert operations.

I take no pleasure in writing this, and my intention isn’t to trash Democrats or Obama, only to illustrate that the drift toward “friendly fascism” began before Trump emerged. Echoing Hamlet, Timothy Snyder has concluded in On Tyranny, “Our time is certainly out of joint," because "we have forgotten history." And now we face a rough passage from confused democracy to a "cynical sort of fascist oligarchy."

There are decades where nothing happens, and there are weeks where decades happen. Lenin said that while he was in exile before the Russian Revolution. For the US, the lead up to the siege of the US capitol in January, 2021 is one example, a period that fundamentally changed the country’s direction. The last few months may turn out to be another.

An older example suggests the potential scope of such a moment. On December 10, 1898, a peace treaty between the US and Spain ended the Spanish-American War. Spain gave Cuba, their prize possession, its independence. But in reality, this placed it under US control for the next 60 years. The emerging US empire also acquired most of Spain’s remaining imperial possessions. That included Puerto Rico, parts of the West Indies, Guam and the Philippines. 

In less than two months the US had defeated one of the so-called “great powers” and acquired significant colonial possessions. It became one of few nations with the ability to project power far beyond its borders. Eventually, it would be labeled a “superpower,” a euphemism that masked its imperial status.

Now that empire has entered an era of transformation and decline that looks unlikely to be reversed. Its basic ideals have been shattered, its capitol has been vandalized by its own people, and its “rule of law” is failing. Is the emerging new system authoritarianism or fascism? Either way, it can happen here, and a return to the past does not look very likely. Millions have lost faith and too much has changed. 

Perhaps the worst can be avoided and something new, perhaps better will emerge. Resistance is clearly growing. But right now oligarchs and their crude enablers sneer inside the nation’s locked gates.

Fear Itself: The Perils of High Anxiety

Do you feel unsafe? Are you and your family at risk? Almost anyone who watches television, reads a newspaper or consumes social media has repeatedly heard that teaser or asked themselves the question. At one time the answer might mostly have been no. Not anymore. 

Now such questions have the power to provoke widespread panic response and a rush toward the latest “miracle” cure or charismatic demagogue.

In 2016, Donald Trump revealed his basic strategy to journalists Bob Woodward and Robert Costa. “Real power is — I don’t even want to use the word — fear,”  he explained. It was, for example, at the core of his advice to a friend who had acknowledged bad behavior toward women. Never show weakness, he advised. You always have to look strong. Fear is the key to real power.

For more than twenty years, I’ve been fascinated by what Marc Siegel has called “free-floating communicated fear.” When Siegel, an internist and frequent TV talking head, first labeled the phenomenon, he was worried mainly about the tendency of his patients to personalize risks that were often remote. In his book, False Alarm: The Truth about the Epidemic of Fear,” he made the point that we often worry about the wrong things and fear itself could pose a greater risk. 

Franklin Roosevelt apparently thought so when he said, during his first inaugural address, that “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” That may have been an overstatement, although the popular interpretation is that it’s best to face problems than become captive to doubt and fear. In any case, it is fair to say misinformation that provokes unreasonable fears is too often a tactic of political opportunists, unscrupulous businesses and irresponsible media. Today we are seeing the drastic, long-term impacts.

Part of the problem lies in our brains, specifically the amygdala — the central station for processing emotions like fear, hate, love, and bravery. Once it detects a threatening situation, it pours out stress hormones. But if the stress persists for too long, it can malfunction, overwhelm the hippocampus (the center of our "thinking" brain), and be difficult to turn off.

Most animals tend to react only to real, direct threats. In humans, however, chronic fear can be triggered by words and symbols — the perception of danger that may stem from hype, fragmented information, uncertainty, or misunderstanding. Repetition is a high-powered weapon that can turn this into a mass movement.

Siegel’s book attacked the situation in three parts. First, he looked at how our "fear biology" can wear us down rather than protect us, inducing paralysis and even making us susceptible to diseases — including psychosis — that we might otherwise resist. He linked the reaction to the "war on terror," charging the government, media, and drug companies with encouraging people to be unreasonably afraid.

At the time, the media’s obsession with the bug du jour — that moment’s big scare — was already leading to misinformation and diverting attention from real dangers. Malaria and AIDS were killing millions every year, but receiving relatively little publicity. Instead, public health resources were focused on the latest potential threat. The public was urged to obsess over bacterial and viral warfare, while there was no training for radiation poisoning, the Coast Guard was understaffed, and seaport security was neglected.

As a strategy for making money, fear-inducing propaganda can be traced back to the early 1980s, when pharmaceutical companies began advertising heavily to convince us that their drugs were essential to good health. At this point, it’s a constant assault.

Siegel told the story of Ira Lassiter, a popular journalist whose arthritis made him eager for the latest cure. "The pendulum swung from panacea to panic, and drugs that were misperceived as lifesavers instantly became villains," Siegel wrote. Lassiter became a self-proclaimed arthritis drug addict. What finally gave him relief was aspirin, which he initially took to deal with a cold. He discovered that it also worked for his sore hips.

Siegel called aspirin an "antifear drug," mainly because it is highly useful without being misperceived as a panacea. The Greeks found it in the bark of the willow tree. Centuries later, a chemist isolated sodium salicylate and, in 1897, Bayer employee Felix Hoffman found that acetylsalicylic acid could be effective in reducing pain.

But even aspirin couldn’t counteract the universal fear epidemic that arguably began with the anthrax scare that followed the 9/11 attacks. Government and media repeatedly colluded to convince people to fear something "that didn’t truly threaten us,” wrote Siegel. “Then, once we were worried, we saw that our federal agencies weren’t functioning effectively, which worried us further." It was one step in a gradual decline of trust in both government and science.

During the West Nile virus scare, the possibility was raised that the US blood supply wasn’t safe. But "blood supply" was a misnomer,  suggesting that a bug could move from one donor into all our transfused blood. The truth was "one donor, one recipient,” and no large-scale pooling of transfused blood. 

In 2003, when the focus turned to chemical weapons and a possible Iraqi nuclear attack (a hype in itself), scam companies pushed potassium iodide pills, claiming that they would prevent thyroid cancer. But a thyroid filled with potassium iodide won’t protect the heart, lungs, and bone marrow, so such pills were like "going out into a snowstorm wearing only a scarf."

What followed was misinformation associated with public health alerts about anthrax, smallpox, SARS, influenza, Mad Cow disease, avian flu, and eventually Covid. In some cases, the government was a greater danger than the supposed threat, mishandling evidence and building high-security labs that provided an opportunity for bad actors to gain access to human pathogens. One study found that most germ attacks were conducted by former or current researchers. 

In early 2004, the New York Times and Wall Street Journal took the lead in warning of a possible avian flu epidemic. As a precaution, more than 100 million animals are slaughtered. Later in the year, a shortage of flu vaccine sparked a national panic. The first victim was an elderly woman who fell while waiting in line for her shot.

Today fear is a highly contagious virus, and the most effective superspreader since 2015 has been Donald Trump. He began by blaming immigrants for most of the nation’s problems and claimed that a “big beautiful wall” would protect us. His basic technique was crude but effective labeling, adding more false threats as the campaign proceeded. It became a major weapon in his “culture war,” along with attacks on anyone who challenged his delusions and lies.  

Fear is also central to his negotiating approach. “The only way to get a good deal is to blow up the old deal,” he told Gary Cohn, the Goldman Sachs investment banker who became Trump’s Director of the National Economic Council. As Bob Woodward explained in Fear, a book on Trump’s first administration, “Cohn realized that Trump had gone bankrupt six times and seemed not to mind. Bankruptcy was just another business strategy. Walk away, threaten to blow up the deal. Real power is fear.” 

It’s the same thing he’s doing now, frequently combined with unpredictability as a tactic to threaten the entire country and the world. Traditional allies have become enemies who are “raping” us with unfair trade, setting off a global trade war that could spark recession.

His latest move is executive orders aimed at “investigating” critics Miles Taylor and Chris Krebs, two members of his first administration, to promote fear among his opponents as well as his current staff that any opposition can lead to presidential charges of treason. Even if this turns out to be unconstitutional, it serves as a grim illustration of the high legal price of defiance.

The good news is that it’s possible to neutralize Trump’s weaponizing of fear and heal ourselves. To start, it involves effectively deconstructing  the fire hose of false assertions, something his opponents and media have found it difficult to accomplish. For some, simply holding on to hope and faith helps. But as Siegel warned, many religious folks have “become overloaded with today’s obsessive worry." And some have served as accomplices in promoting mass fear and hate. 

Another approach is to take an occasional break, simply turning off the media. This is easier said than done, especially with the addictive algorithms that are central to most social media’s business model, but worth the effort.

Another strategy is reeducation that puts risks in a realistic perspective. That includes less focus on the unlikely, less acceptance of the rhetorical exaggeration of potential impacts and, with the help of people who have real knowledge, a psychological purge of the high-pressure misinformation that is being shot into our brains.

Other suggestions are just common sense. Get regular sleep, eat healthy food, exercise, and enjoy some entertainment. Perhaps even more important at the moment, question or ignore those who compulsively push threats that appeal to prejudice rather than logic and leave out obvious facts, or worry us even more by bungling the response. Replace unreal fears with self-discipline and some courage.

I would also add the importance of maintaining a sense of humor. More than 20 years ago, in the midst of the SARS scare, I posted a notice in my house calling for entries to a list of "101 things to be afraid of." As the responses accumulated, we found that the sheer number and diversity tended to make each one look less threatening. From asbestos, mosquitoes, and dengue fever we moved on to losing your keys, barcodes, drunk drivers, being impaled, Tammy Faye Baker, and indifference. Everyone is afraid of something, but laughter can help to trip the amygdala’s off switch.

Overcoming fear isn’t easy, of course, especially when oppressive states, autocratic leaders, compromised experts, and soulless businesses like Big Pharma engage our instinctual apparatus for their own purposes and profit. Our fear triggers have already led us well down the road to mass manipulation. 

The first step toward liberation is to realize we are being conned and relearn how to realistically assess risks, to distinguish between illusion and reality. After that, every move away from misplaced worry is a step in the process of recovery.