The Science of the 'New McCarthyism': How Cold War Rhetoric is Shaping the 2026 Midterms

As the 2026 midterm elections accelerate, American voters are experiencing a distinct rhetorical time warp. Across campaign trails and debate stages, the terminology of the 1950s Cold War has returned with startling frequency. Candidates, most notably former President Donald Trump, are increasingly framing their political opponents not merely as misguided policymakers, but as "Marxists" and "godless communists" intent on dismantling the nation.[4]

This language represents a significant escalation from traditional partisan bickering. While political campaigns have always relied on contrast, the omnipresent use of Red Scare terminology marks a deliberate strategic shift. The rhetoric is deployed across social media, fundraising emails, and rally speeches, attempting to paint the entire opposition party with labels historically reserved for America's geopolitical enemies.[4]

To a casual observer, the use of these terms might seem paradoxical. Modern mainstream Democratic platforms focus on regulated capitalism, social safety nets, and infrastructure investment—policies that bear no resemblance to the state ownership of the means of production required by actual Marxist theory. Yet, the inaccuracy of the terms is precisely the point.[6]

Political scientists and linguists understand this phenomenon through the concept of the "empty signifier." In structural linguistics, an empty signifier is a word that has been systematically stripped of its original, precise definition. Once emptied, the term becomes a hollow container that a speaker can refill with whatever cultural anxieties or grievances are most useful at the moment.[3]

In the context of the 2026 midterms, "Marxist" no longer refers to a 19th-century economic philosophy regarding class struggle and capital. Instead, it functions as a boundary-marker. It is a linguistic shorthand used to signal that an opponent belongs to a hostile out-group, encompassing everything from progressive social policies to institutional diversity initiatives.[3][6]

To understand the power of this strategy, historians point to its most famous American precedent: the McCarthyism of the 1950s. During the Second Red Scare, U.S. Senator Joseph McCarthy utilized the profound national fear of Soviet influence to launch a series of aggressive investigations into alleged communist infiltration of the government, academia, and the entertainment industry.[1]

The original McCarthy era was characterized by heightened political repression, where unsubstantiated accusations were used to destroy careers and consolidate political power. Between 5,000 and 10,000 federal employees were forced to resign or were terminated during this period, driven by a moral panic that equated political dissent with treason.[1]

However, scholars note a crucial distinction between the 1950s and today. The original McCarthyism relied on the terrifying premise of hidden espionage—the idea that secret agents were operating in the shadows. The "New McCarthyism" of the 2020s frames the threat differently. Today, the alleged subversion is portrayed as a cultural and institutional movement operating in plain sight, making the rhetoric more diffuse and harder to disprove.[5]

The frequent addition of the "godless" modifier to these attacks serves a highly specific electoral function. By attaching religious stakes to economic terminology, campaign strategists attempt to activate Christian nationalist voting blocs. This frames the election not as a debate over tax rates or healthcare, but as an apocalyptic spiritual battle for the soul of the country.[6]

Psychologists and political scientists refer to this overarching tactic as "securitization." Securitization occurs when a political actor successfully frames a standard political issue or a rival candidate as an existential threat to the nation's survival. Once an opponent is securitized, extraordinary or extreme measures to defeat them suddenly appear justified to the electorate.[2][3]

This is why researchers view the revival of such rhetoric as a dangerous catalyst for democratic backsliding. A healthy democracy relies on the principle of mutual toleration—the shared understanding that competing parties are legitimate rivals, not enemies of the state. When opponents are routinely labeled as "fascists" or "communists," that foundational toleration evaporates.[2][5]

The consequences of this polarization are measurable. When voters are convinced that the opposing party intends to destroy the country, compromise becomes a moral failure rather than a political necessity. This gridlocks legislative bodies and normalizes the use of institutional hardball, where norms are shattered in the name of preventing a perceived catastrophe.[2]

This rhetorical strategy is not unique to the United States. Discourse analysts have documented identical patterns in European populist movements. In countries like Poland, right-wing parties have successfully utilized "anti-communist" rhetoric as an empty signifier to discredit liberal opposition and consolidate power, proving that the tactic has broad international efficacy.[3]

Despite its prevalence, electoral pragmatists fiercely debate whether this extreme rhetoric actually wins elections. While it is undeniably effective at generating small-dollar donations and firing up a candidate's most loyal base, data suggests it often fails to persuade the broader electorate.

Recent polling indicates that a majority of voters are exhausted by the hostility. Approximately 69% of Republicans and 60% of Democrats acknowledge that their own parties have gone too far in using harmful, alienating language. For undecided and moderate voters, wild punches involving "Marxism" often fail to land, reading as unserious or overly extreme.

There is also the risk of rhetorical inflation. When every political disagreement is elevated to the level of a communist takeover or a fascist plot, the words gradually lose their shock value. Over time, the electorate becomes desensitized to the alarm bells, requiring politicians to reach for increasingly extreme language just to maintain the same level of engagement.[4][6]

For the modern voter, understanding the mechanics of these empty signifiers is a form of civic inoculation. When citizens recognize that a historical label is being used not to describe reality, but to trigger a specific psychological reflex, the rhetoric loses its power to manipulate.[6]

As the 2026 midterms approach, the true test will not be whether politicians continue to deploy the language of the Red Scare—they almost certainly will. The test will be whether the American electorate chooses to process that language through a lens of historical analysis, rather than succumbing to the anxiety it is engineered to produce.[6]