Authored by Charles Lipson via RealClearPolitics,

To hear the candidates and their surrogates tell it, we live in Weimar Germany 1932. There are only fascists fighting communists, with nobody in the middle. The candidates have eagerly pinned those noxious labels on their opponents.

MSNBC, which competes with ABC and CBS for dreadful news judgment, drove home that point with its coverage of Trump’s closing rally at Madison Square Garden. Amid clips of the Trump event, they spliced clips of Nazi rallies. Subtlety be damned.

A better analogy than Weimar is “Spinal Tap,” the mockumentary about a hapless heavy metal band. In one scene, the band’s guitarist, Nigel Tufnel, explains why his amplifiers are louder than everyone else’s. Their amplifier dials only go up to 10. His go up to 11.

Tufnel: It’s one louder, isn’t it? … What we do is if we need that extra … push over the cliff … you know what we do?

Interviewer Marty DeBergi: Put it up to eleven.

Tufnel:  Eleven. Exactly. One louder.

That is American politics today. One louder. But with everyone louder – and angrier – no one can hear each other.

With the amps at 11 and the country ideologically polarized, we are pushing America toward the cliff. Both parties think that’s the other’s fault.

These intense passions won’t end when the ballots are counted, especially if the results are close. In 2020, Trump impugned the results and the winner’s legitimacy. In 2016, after Hillary Clinton lost, she repeatedly denounced Trump as an illegitimate president. That rhetoric mobilizes the most extreme followers. It’s kindling wood for violence, exactly what a constitutional democracy should avoid with the peaceful transfer of power.

This turbulence has two sources. One is short-term, a cynical tactic to increase partisan turnout. Get them to the polls by playing on their fears. The other is long-term. Both sides are genuinely scared about what the other side will do if they win. Those two sources, long-term and short-term, reinforce each other.

They push us toward the cliff. Before plunging over, it’s time for sensible people to take a deep breath and assess the real differences, not the hype, and consider how to cope with the dangers.

The most fundamental point is this: America’s best protection against extreme dangers are robust constitutional institutions, combined with impartial law enforcement.

What are these vital institutional protections?

Separation of powers
Respect for the rule of law
Impartial enforcement of our laws
Protection for the minority party’s rights, ensured by the Senate filibuster
Limits on presidential fiat, not governance by constant Executive Orders
Requirements that major rules proposed by administrative agencies receive clear approval from elected representatives before they can be implemented
Restraint and effective oversight on the enormous, secretive power of the FBI, Department of Justice, and intelligence agencies, whose actions must be kept within constitutional bounds and never used for domestic political gain or political blackmail

These institutional protections are the load-bearing walls of constitutional democracy. All of them have been under enormous strain, mostly by partisans who care far more about achieving their preferred outcomes than about preserving constitutional methods for achieving them. Indeed, they would readily change those methods, such as packing the Supreme Court, to achieve their goals.

The dangers have grown because the policy differences between the two parties today are deep and fundamental. These are not the differences between Dwight Eisenhower and Adlai Stevenson, or between John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon. They are deeper, angrier, and laden with almost-religious fervor. Apostates are excommunicated.

These opposing views are amplified in today’s media landscape, which is characterized by separate silos for separate audiences. People tune in to see their views confirmed and others’ denigrated.

Amid these changes, the base constituencies of both parties have moved away from the center, away from the possibilities of compromise.

These cleavages are prominent in issues freighted with social and cultural meaning. That’s certainly true for disputes surrounding abortion and transgender rights. Both issues have practical consequences, but the disputes go further. They are fights over cultural symbols that matter to many people who have no direct, personal stake in reproductive rights or gender changes.

For many women, abortion is a hard-won right and they believe that they alone should decide whether to keep their pregnancy or terminate it. Achieving that right (codified in the 1973 Roe v .Wade decision) was the most important feminist victory since the advent of voting rights for women. Their political opponents say pregnant women should not have unfettered discretion to deal with pregnancy since it involves another, innocent life. The debate over women’s rights, human autonomy, and the protection of innocents is suffused with both practical consequences and symbolic weight.

The same is true for transgender rights. The right of adults to choose their gender is now widely accepted, a major change from 20 or 30 years ago. The battles now are whether children should be subject to irreversible changes, who should make those decisions, whether transgender women (born men) should compete against biological women and girls in sports, whether biological and transgender girls should use the same bathrooms and locker rooms, and whether taxpayers should pay for gender-changing operations on prison inmates and illegal aliens. The numbers involved in these issues are relatively small, but their symbolic weight is large. Opposing sides face each other across a cultural chasm, drenched with contempt for the opposition.

These differences are playing out against a disorienting background condition, which is often ignored when we discuss politics and culture. The basic structure of modern economies is changing rapidly. The last such disorienting economic change was the Great Depression and, before that, the Second Industrial Revolution in the 1890s (the advent of big steel, oil, chemicals, and large corporations to manage them). Both the 1890s and 1930s produced long-lasting shifts in voters’ political alignments.

We are seeing another great realignment now, driven (on the economic side) by rapid innovation in computer technology, artificial intelligence, and robotics. When those are combined with low-cost transportation, virtually free communication, and trade rules that encourage globalization, the result is social dislocation and disorientation. There is a palpable threat to employment in American manufacturing and, increasingly, in service industries.

Both political parties have responded by supporting trade protection, with Trump taking the lead. Doing so has helped him forge a populist Republican Party, centered on the working-class.

Amid these vast changes and bitter ideological differences, it is hardly surprising to see our political discourse becoming more virulent, depicting the opposition as “enemies,” as Trump has done for some elected representatives (and not just violent extremists).

The only way to contain those differences peacefully is to channel them through established democratic institutions, using well-established procedures. That’s the only hope the losing side will accept the results as legitimate.

To propose major changes to those institutions risks further undermining their already-wobbly legitimacy. To impose those changes for immediate political victories, to impose them with support from only one party, is worse than foolhardy. It’s dangerous. It would keep the amplifiers pinned on 11 while we scream at each other across the deafening noise.

Charles Lipson is the Peter B. Ritzma Professor of Political Science Emeritus at the University of Chicago. His latest book is Free Speech 101: A Practical Guide for Students. He can be reached at charles.lipson@gmail.com.