There is a very detailed 2025 book by Molly Worthen titled Spellbound:
How charisma shaped American history from the Puritans to Donald Trump. Google
Books has a preview through page 28. The book is divided into five parts with fifteen
chapters starting on the pages shown:
PART I: PROPHETS 1
Chapter 1: Revolution 3
Chapter 2: Awakenings 22
Chapter 3: Wartime 46
PART II: CONQUERORS 67
Chapter 4: Mastery 69
Chapter 5: Visions 96
Chapter 6: Attraction 124
PART III: AGITATORS 147
Chapter 7: Enlightenment 149
Chapter 8: Pentecost 172
Chapter 9: Apocalypse 195
PART IV: EXPERTS 217
Chapter 10: Intellect 219
Chapter 11: Liberation 241
Chapter 12: Breakdown 263
PART V: GURUS 289
Chapter 13: Insight 291
Chapter 14: Profit 311
Chapter 15: Revival 332
Afterword 367
Acknowledgements 375
Notes 379
In the Introduction, starting on page xxiv she explains in
detail exactly how her book is structured [ I have added italics to all
mentions of her five types]:
“Over the past four centuries, five types of charismatic
leaders have surged to dominance, each offering a variation on the great
paradox, a different way for followers to hand over control while feeling
liberated. I use these categories both to classify leaders and their movements,
and to chart historical change: each type reacts to the type that came before,
and responds to the pressures and anxieties of its own era. Like all
typologies, this one maps imperfectly onto real people. Almost no one is a ‘pure’
example of these categories, and some leaders are interesting precisely because
they react against their age’s dominant type. But these categories have
compelled even leaders who defied easy labels – that’s most of them – to respond
to the ascendant charismatic style of their age.
The Prophets take us from the end of the Middle Ages
into something beginning to resemble our own world. They drew on ancient
patterns of contact with the divine to challenge authorities and captivate
followers with the terror and ecstasy of God’s presence. They hewed close to
tradition, operating in a time when Old World strictures still constrained life
in the New World rather tightly. But some used these traditions to undermine
reigning institutions, whether by violent rebellion or illicit gatherings – and
so provoked a backlash. If the Prophets conceived of freedom in terms of divine
salvation, they often harnessed mystical power for this-worldly ends. Usually
this meant dismantling any structure that stood in God’s way.
The Prophets were, essentially, destroyers. In their
wake they provoked an age of builders.
The Conquerors rose to prominence in the early
nineteenth century – an age of mythology, mass media, and frontier enthusiasm
in the European American imagination. They swung away from the age of the Prophets,
who had so much to say about how powerless humans are.
Some of the Conquerors wielded military power, but
all of them pursued what we might call metaphysical conquest. They fought to
control spiritual forces. As the predestinarian Puritanism of earlier
generations lost its appeal, more people placed an almost fundamentalist faith
in the power of free will. It was tempting to think of spiritual forces –
perhaps even the Holy Spirit – as a kind of technology, ready for manipulation.
The stakes in these campaigns were high at a time when new advances in science
impinged on everyday life. Waves of immigration made the country more
religiously and ethnically diverse. Americans felt both freer and yet more
confined than ever before.
The Agitators gained sway at the turn of the
twentieth century, protesting modernity as a raw deal and democracy as tyranny
in disguise. The Conquerors had, overall, expanded government authority
over Americans’ lives and advanced a golden ideal of progress. Now the pendulum
swung back towards calls for destruction. The Agitators found a market
for attacking the state and denouncing so-called progress as a lie. They
defined themselves aas outsiders whether they were or not, and discovered that
gaining material power does not mean that one must stop telling a story of
exile and affliction. This proved to be an important lesson in an age of world
war and economic disaster: global crises have a way of transfiguring an outcast
dissenter into a credible threat to the standing order. Meanwhile, Christians
grew wilder in their displays of New Testament charisma – because,
paradoxically, it was easier to grapple with what Max Weber called the ‘iron
cage’ of modernity by embracing ever more outlandish signs of divine power.
The Experts were, on the face of things, the Agitators’
opposite in charismatic style. They were builders. In the wake of World War II,
they capitalized on a backlash against the nightmare years of fascist
demagogues, embraced the zenith of traditional institutions’ authority across
Western culture and politics, and nurtured Americans’ faith in the power of
technology and bureaucracy to solve large-scale problems. They claimed the mantle
of reason and procedure and did their best to relegate the political or
religious clout of charisma to the distant past or primitive cultures.
But in fact, the three decades after World War II witnessed
an explosion of religious revival in Americans – led by Christians who spoke in
tongues, looked for the end times, and claimed to heal through the power of the
Spirit. Even in the domain of credentialed and supposedly secular healing, the
line between medicine and spirituality grew fuzzier. These years were the Experts’
apogee of cultural prestige, but Americans’ long-standing ambivalence about
intellectual elites persisted. The most successful leaders capitalized on these
mixed feelings. They nursed the tension between the Cold War celebration of
science and freedom and, on the other hand, the lurking sense that the
technological leaps obscured eternal truths and needed the organizing power of
a good story.
By the end of the twentieth century, as Americans lost faith
in established media, churches, government, and nearly every other bulwark of
modern society, the destructive strain of charismatic leadership resurfaced in
the form of Gurus: preachers of self-actualization and get-enlightened-quick
schemes, promoting God’s new temp job as personal assistant. Old-fashioned Pentecostal revival persisted
too, but its leaders struggled to prevent the culture wars from capturing the
Holy Spirit.
The Gurus looked, at first glance, like the Prophets
and the Agitators. But in the generations since those earlier eras, it
had become harder to pay obeisance to tradition – which was just fine, since
the erosion of institutions had weakened traditions anyway, and opened a path
for Gurus to achieve more influence than their destructive predecessors.
Religious and philosophical tradition, in the hands of the Gurus, was no
longer a firm guide but a palette for painting illusions of independence.
Sometimes they used it to depict a new reality impervious to fact-checkers.
‘Guru,’ which means ‘remover of darkness’ in Sanskrit, was
originally a religious term. But in the third decade of the twenty-first
century, the most prominent guru in the country was a businessman named Donald
Trump. Trump was not, personally, a paragon of conventional religious devotion.
Yet his political career depended on a hunger among his most dedicated
supporters that can only be called spiritual. Like so many relationships
between charismatic leaders and their followers, it stumped and angered those
on the outside. Against the backdrop of the American charismatic tradition,
however, his success makes perfect sense.
How, then, did early modern mystics and Puritan heretics who
heard the voice of the Holy Spirit give way to devotees at a modern
presidential rally, jostling toward the candidate iPhone-first, praying for a
selfie? By the early twenty-first century, most religious institutions in the
West had declined into husks of their former authority – at least by the usual
measures. Today commentators turn more than ever to materialist explanations
for political dysfunction, polarization, and the culture’s general crisis of
confidence. They cite growing social inequality , impassable disagreements on policy,
persistent racism and xenophobia, evil automated forces lurking on the
internet. All true – yet all insufficient accounts. If we define the religious
impulse as a hunger for transcendent meaning and a reflex to worship, then it
is a human instinct only slightly less basic than the need for food and
shelter, and Americans are no less religious than they have ever been. They
will always find a way to satisfy these desires, even if charisma carries them
down strange and costly paths.”
The arrow spiral was
adapted from OpenClipArt.
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