Every now and then, I find myself revisiting something I
wrote and realizing it deserves a second look. That happened with a comment I
made back in August, in Truth, Justice, and Wednesday Addams, about
Americans going all in on our own homegrown fascist authoritarianism. The
conversations that followed were illuminating—not because people necessarily
disagreed, but because it became clear that for many, “fascism” has drifted
into the realm of all‑purpose insult meant to inflame rather than remaining a
defined political ideology. When someone responds by sending me a photo of a
left‑leaning politician sporting a crudely drawn Hitler moustache, it is hard
not to notice how far the word has wandered from its actual meaning. Fascism
is, after all, a far‑right ideology. Using it as a catch‑all slur for anyone
you dislike does not just muddy the waters; it obscures the very real dangers
the term is meant to describe.
What follows is not an exhaustive treatise, but a reminder
of what fascism entails, and why precision matters.
Anti‑Democratic at Its Core
Fascism begins with a rejection of the Enlightenment, the
18th‑century intellectual movement that gave us the philosophical scaffolding
for modern democracy. The core commitments of Enlightenment political
philosophy are familiar:
- Reason
- Natural
rights, individual liberty, and equality
- Consent
of the governed
- Constitutionalism,
separation of powers, and checks and balances
- Pluralism
Fascism rejects all of these. It replaces the idea of shared
power with a centralized, dictatorial state that seeks control over every
aspect of public and private life. Democracy and its institutions are not
something to be improved or reformed; they are something to be dismantled.
Ultranationalism
Fascism and ultranationalism reinforce one another in ways
that are hard to untangle. Ultranationalism takes ordinary nationalism and
pushes it past any sense of balance or mutual respect. Where healthy
nationalism emphasizes shared identity and the protection of a nation’s
sovereignty, ultranationalism elevates the nation’s interests—and its supposed
superiority—above all others, even at the expense of basic human rights or
global stability. It often embraces coercion and violence as legitimate tools of
national advancement. Once this mindset takes hold, cooperation becomes
weakness, and the rights of other nations or peoples are treated as irrelevant
obstacles. Society is split into imagined hierarchies: those cast as impure,
inferior, or dangerous, and those mythologized as bearers of a grand cultural
destiny.
The result is a politics that becomes needlessly destructive, both to
those it targets and to the nation that embraces it.
The Lost “Golden Age”
In fascist ideology, the idea of a “Golden Age” functions as
a powerful myth—an imagined past elevated to justify sweeping political
upheaval and the consolidation of authoritarian rule. This idealized era is
rarely rooted in historical reality; instead, it is selectively constructed to
evoke pride, nostalgia, and a sense of lost greatness. By promising a return to
this fabricated past, fascist leaders bind popular sentiment to the ambitions
of the ruling elite.
At the same time, fascism depends on a counter‑narrative of
decline. The nation is portrayed as perpetually endangered and
victimized—undermined from within, besieged from without, and betrayed by
enemies, real or invented. This manufactured atmosphere of crisis becomes the
rationale for extreme actions, allowing extraordinary powers to be framed as
necessary acts of national salvation.
And, of course, there must be enemies.
Scapegoats, Enemies, and the Politics of Blame
Fascist movements depend on the constant identification of
enemies—both within and beyond the nation’s borders—to explain its alleged
decline. These scapegoats can be ethnic or religious minorities, immigrants,
political rivals, or any group that can be portrayed as fundamentally “other.”
The strategy serves two key purposes: it forges unity through shared hostility
and diverts attention from the regime’s own shortcomings.
While scapegoating is hardly new in political life, fascism
transforms it from a tactic into a central organizing principle of governance.
Militarism and the Glorification of Violence
Fascism places military power, rigid order, and sanctioned
violence at the heart of national identity and ambition. Armed force becomes
both a tool and a symbol: it suppresses dissent at home, advances expansionist
aims abroad, and reinforces the regime’s authority through paramilitary
intimidation. The relentless buildup and celebration of military strength form
the backbone of fascist governance, enabling aggressive foreign policy and
tightening control over society.
Within this worldview, violence is not a regrettable
necessity but a celebrated ideal. Fascist ideology frames war as a purifying
force capable of restoring national vitality. Martial virtues—discipline,
obedience, aggression—are elevated as moral goods. Violence is transformed from
a means to an end into a defining feature of national greatness.
Suppressing Opposition and Controlling Truth
No fascist regime permits genuine dissent. Opposition
parties, independent journalism, labor movements, and civil society groups are
dismantled or crushed—frequently through intimidation or outright violence. The
aim is never dialogue; it is absolute control. The leader’s word becomes the
sole source of truth. Information is tightly managed, censorship wipes out
competing accounts, and propaganda permeates every corner of public life.
Once the state claims authority over reality itself,
resistance becomes not only perilous but almost unimaginable.
Economic Control Without Economic Equality
Fascism frequently casts itself as the sworn opponent of
socialism and communism, and it leans heavily on anti‑leftist rhetoric to rally
support. Yet fascist regimes also impose extensive state control over the
economy—not to elevate workers, but to harness corporate power in service of
the state’s ambitions.
The outcome is neither genuine free‑market capitalism
nor any form of socialism, but a hybrid system in which economic power is
subordinated to political authority.
The Cult of Personality
Finally, fascism ultimately hinges on a leader raised to
near‑mythic stature. Through orchestrated spectacle, constant propaganda, and
unending repetition, this figure is cast as the nation’s sole redeemer—the one
person capable of restoring greatness.
This cult of personality is not decorative; it is the
structural core of the regime. The leader must seem flawless, irreplaceable,
and monumental. Loyalty is not simply admired—it becomes an absolute
requirement.
Why Precision Matters
When we use “fascism” as a casual insult, we flatten all
this complexity into a caricature. We lose the ability to recognize the real
thing when it appears—not as a cartoon villain with a tiny moustache, but as a
political movement that presents itself as patriotic, restorative, and
necessary.
Fascism rarely announces itself with jackboots on day one.
It arrives wrapped in promises of national renewal, moral clarity, and
protection from imagined threats. It thrives in confusion, in the blurring of
definitions, in the erosion of shared meaning. If we want to defend democracy, we must be able to name what
threatens it. And that begins with using our words carefully—not to score
points, but to illuminate the truth.
