Why did you write a book about fear?

Democracy requires us all to trust one another and to have concern for one another; and that means not being governed by fear. Fear is a painful awareness of danger or threat. It can be highly conscious, but it can also lurk under the surface. It is a large part of the life of a human infant, who is all too conscious of its own desperate need for food, warmth and comfort, as well as its total inability to independently get what it needs. Fear is intensely narcissistic: When you feel your life threatened, your attention shrinks to your own body. You are once again a baby crying for what you can’t get. Babies are not good democratic citizens: In their fear, they operate by making other people their slaves. They are also utterly dependent on others, incapable of agency or reciprocity.

How does fear manifest itself in our current political climate?

Ours is a difficult time. Automation, the global economy, various threats to our security and the obvious problems of economic and social inequality—all give rise to fear and anxiety. When FDR said “We have nothing to fear but fear itself,” I believe he meant that fear has a tendency to become its own way of being and to prevent forms of cooperation, hope and, yes, the mutual love that we need to solve our problems. Often these days, fear is destructive, impeding a real dialogue about our future. Fear is not always bad. For example, I think we ought to fear the effects of climate change and the destruction of animal species. But we cannot just wallow in fear: We must get together with other people and do something.

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