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The Trump administration’s classification of “Antifa” as a domestic terrorist organization signals the dawn of a new chapter in American politics. This shift is set to alter the dynamics of power, governance, and societal structure, reminiscent of how the “War on Terror” reshaped the global landscape and expanded the surveillance apparatus.
Carl Schmitt posits that the essence of the political revolves around defining friend and foe. In the introductory lines of The Concept of the Political, he asserts: “The concept of the state presupposes the concept of the political.” If the political concept precedes the state, then distinguishing friend from enemy is foundational to the state’s existence.
In May 2020, Trump first attempted to label “Antifa” as a domestic terrorist organization in response to the Black Lives Matter movement. This initial effort failed; there was no domestic equivalent to the foreign terrorist law that would empower the executive to classify domestic groups as terrorists—at that time, such a designation was purely symbolic.
Now, five years later, that initial initiative appears to have materialized. While no law currently endows the “domestic terrorist organization” label with legal authority, the shift from “foreign” to “domestic” implies that the tactics previously employed against foreign threats may soon be directed at domestic groups.
This shift is apparent in Trump’s recent executive order, which mandates that all relevant executive departments and agencies should act against any activities associated with this purported organization, along with any individual claiming to represent Antifa or providing it with material support.
Since the landmark 2010 Holder v. Humanitarian Law Project ruling, “material support” has been broadened to include non-material contributions, such as non-violent expressions or “hate speech.” This reinterpretation emerged from the Patriot Act, which criminalized assistance to “foreign terrorist organizations.” Now, this could be used to suppress dissent against the government by branding it as “support for Antifa.”
The assassination of Charlie Kirk has served as a pretext for the Trump administration to justify an era of repression and censorship, using language that echoes what the MAGA movement previously criticized in the Democratic Party and broader “cancel culture.” Their goal, much like the suspension of Jimmy Kimmel’s show, is to silence any opposition during a significant restructuring of power.
The Trump administration is implementing profound changes to the American power system, typically characterized as a constitutional republic. It is augmenting executive power to the point of near legislative control through executive orders, while simultaneously pressuring the judiciary to align with executive wishes.
Examples of this shift include the persecution of pro-Palestinian activists and migrants, where legislation originates from the executive, is executed under its supervision, and the judiciary is coerced into compliance. The militarization of Washington serves as another instance of how this administration is centralizing authority in the presidency while dismantling remaining checks and balances.
Economically, Trump is promoting greater monopolization among a small elite. For instance, David Ellison, son of Oracle’s founder, has taken over Paramount and CBS and is planning an acquisition bid for Warner. Recently, his father was declared the richest individual globally by Bloomberg as Oracle’s stock surged, driven by the increased demand for servers in the AI sector. Both Ellison and Sam Altman participated in Trump’s “Stargate” initiative, which involves a $500 billion investment, and play roles in the upcoming acquisition of U.S. TikTok.
The ongoing consolidation of power is poised to foster an openly authoritarian regime, characterized by a concentration of wealth and authority among the few. While some may argue that this trend is not new, such assertions hold some truth. The U.S. oligarchy and aristocracy have been extensively discussed in various writings. However, a crucial distinction must be recognized between the current state of affairs and previous structures.
Previously, there existed a certain degree of separation of powers—not strictly among the branches of government, but among industrial, political, and financial spheres, which often had conflicting interests and exercised influence individually within the state.
However, this paradigm is evolving. The emergence of new digital oligarchs blending into the upper echelons of power is instigating a restructuring of the power architecture. This new model is likely to unite political, digital, and financial powers into a singular governing entity.
This represents a transformative approach for the U.S., one that is already evident in other regions. In China, the party-state maintains key stakes in the political, digital/industrial, and financial spheres. This consolidation has empowered it to allocate resources and legislate in ways that advance state interests. Some experts, like Alex Karp in his work The Technological Republic, argue that this model has contributed to the U.S.’s decline and the waning of its hegemony.
The rise of a new economic elite, comprising digital oligarchs and their influences, has frequently catalyzed revolutions, such as the French Revolution. Historian Adam Zamoyski, in his book Phantom Terror: The Threat of Revolution and the Repression of Liberty, 1789–1848, keenly analyzes how the revolution and the subsequent counter-revolution shaped modern statehood and societal structures.
Zamoyski illustrates how the fear of an all-encompassing revolutionary underground led to paranoia among European elites. Even minor protests or liberal clubs were perceived as signs of a vast Jacobin conspiracy—what he terms “phantom terror.”
While some dangers were indeed present, the ruling elites often exaggerated or entirely fabricated threats, creating an atmosphere of surveillance, censorship, and authoritarianism that characterized European politics. This environment intensified the very dynamics authorities sought to suppress.
By means of censorship, surveillance, and authoritarian control, the nation-state became more centralized. Real or imagined threats fueled this transformation. The modern Western system of compulsory education, which has roots in the Austrian Empire and was shaped by upheaval, embodies how ideas from that epoch persist.
The designation of Al-Qaeda as the enemy during the post-9/11 “War on Terror” generated a parallel “phantom terror” phenomenon. Scholars widely agree that Al-Qaeda, at that period, lacked a structured hierarchy capable of executing precise operations and managing a vast network of operatives. Some, like Adam Curtis in The Power of Nightmares, argue that it may not have existed as a cohesive entity at all, but rather was a label for a U.S. “mujahideen” database.
The abstraction of the enemy in the “War on Terror” had multiple ramifications. Similar to counter-revolutionary Europe, many threats were exaggerated or conjured, resulting in a state of paranoia justifying extensive surveillance and control. Foundational principles such as the presumption of innocence and the right to a fair trial were eroded, as manifested in the U.S. Patriot Act and analogous legislation worldwide.
Economically, this led to the emergence of “surveillance capitalism,” where individuals became tools of state control and corporate interests through their data. The generalized abstract notion of an enemy made it impractical for a conventional military to combat it, a phenomenon evident in the catastrophic failures in Iraq and Afghanistan that ultimately resulted in the rise of ISIS.
There’s a potent force behind unifying and forging societal structures—a clearly defined enemy. The U.S. evolved into just that for the diffuse networks of alleged “terrorists.” This may have been a key consideration for the architects of the War on Terror, particularly among neoconservatives strategizing how to maintain U.S. supremacy in the forthcoming century.
Initially, the post-9/11 period conferred a sense of unity, but over time, this cohesion faded as scrutiny emerged regarding the true objectives of the U.S. leadership. Today, even former FOX anchor Tucker Carlson is producing a documentary that questions the official narrative surrounding 9/11.
Yet, the moment has passed. Regardless of the narrative one subscribes to, 9/11 catalyzed a global surge of terrorism—sometimes supported by state intelligence agencies and at other times operating independently—that has significantly influenced contemporary law, economy, and politics. The decision to label “Antifa” as a terrorist group bears a similar transformative potential for the U.S., possibly extending its ramifications internationally.
It’s crucial to note that Antifa is not a formal organization but rather a label that captures a diversity of ideas and informal actions, adopted by individuals to shape their identities. This abstraction bears resemblance to Al-Qaeda or even surpasses it in terms of vagueness. This is precisely what the Trump administration requires.
In promoting a new societal model as envisaged by the emerging digital oligarchs disrupting traditional power norms, significant alterations in the state-individual dynamic are necessary. For instance, the digitalized, algorithm-driven state structure they advocate—as symbolized by Musk’s “DOGE”—requires unfettered access to personal data, effectively making individuals templates for state-sponsored AI projects.
The implications of classifying “Antifa” as a terrorist organization extend beyond governance; they delve into the core of identity formation. In the 1970s, psychologists introduced the “Social Identity Theory,” suggesting that for a person to develop an identity, they need to align with a group while contrasting it against others. Positive traits are ascribed to the identified group and absorbed into one’s identity, while opposing groups are marked with negative traits.
This identity-building framework, albeit partial, resonates with the political underpinnings proposed by Carl Schmitt. Group identities serve as the foundation for establishing political narratives involving friends and foes, and in turn, the framework of the state itself. Antifa evolves into the state’s contemporary adversary, paving the way for a restructuring of the power dynamics and the emergence of a new digital governance model.
