I'm accustomed to hearing the word "fascist" thrown about as an epithet; particularly when the speaker is referring to a politician with whom he disagrees. It is, however, a signature of our wayward times that the term is being applied to prominent public figures in the United States and abroad; this time not as an insult, but as a descriptor.
The label has been given to Donald Trump and his hardened cadre of supporters, who seem to embrace him more tightly as his rhetoric becomes more outrageous and disconnected from reality. The same can be said of President Duterte of the Philippines, whose brutal methods for dealing with the country's drug problem may not be legal, but are nonetheless widely popular. The anti-immigrant and specifically anti-Islamic rhetoric of some of the "Brexiteers" of the United Kingdom and Geert Wilders' political party in the Netherlands have likewise attracted the label, as their prominence has grown in light of the European migrant crisis. Marine Le Pen's National Front has long been a notable right-wing presence in France, but it has received extra attention as that afflicted country, mother of Jacobinism and prototype for the secular liberal democratic nation-state, has become a favorite target of Islamic fundamentalists.
Much of the western world seems gripped by insularity; a tightening of borders, a hardening of hearts, a sense that expansion has been retarded by the corrupt, the bureaucratic, the condescending, and the stupid. A conviction that the socio-political status quo has been maintained by a global elite who care more for the advancement of their personal agendas than for the wellbeing, or even the basic security, of the people they govern. The promise of globalization seems not to have been kept. Economic growth has not led to proportional wage increases or employment opportunities. Automation and outsourcing have decimated previously stable livelihoods. Mass immigration has left some people feeling like aliens in their own communities. In such times, when prosperity seems to have become a zero-sum game, where else can the disoriented turn than to that old staple of political and economic order, the nation-state? Thus,
as we mark the centennial of the battle of the Somme, nationalism is back; and with it, the echoes of that most derided and peculiar of nationalist ideologies: Fascism.
But what exactly is Fascism? People think they know it when they see it. Violent rhetoric, censorship, a charismatic leader supported by paramilitary organizations which operate outside of any normal, legal political process. These are all common elements of Fascist regimes, but none of them are exclusively Fascist trademarks; no single political goal or structure testifies adequately, on its own, to the Fascist worldview.
Roger Griffin, a British academic and one of the world's leading authorities on the intellectual history of Fascism, provides an intellectually sound but verbally opaque definition: Fascism, he says, "is a genus of political ideology whose mythic core in its various permutations is a palingenetic form of populist ultra-nationalism." What does that mean? The key is in the term "palingenetic". Palingenesis is the archetypal concept of rebirth, as it appears in various world mythologies. In the context of Fascism, palingenesis is applied to "populist ultra-nationalism". Fascist movements tend to envision themselves as ushering in a "rebirth" of the nation, conceived of as an organic entity composed of people bound by ethnic kinship. This myth of rebirth, of the transition from the old and decrepit to the new and vibrant, carried out by the immortal living organism of the nation, is the core of Fascist ideology. Fascists in politics have taken any number of political stances to advance their pragmatic interests; even when those positions have flatly contradicted one another. But the running constant behind the political posturing is always the palingenetic myth. Uniquely among twentieth century ideologies, Fascism has proclaimed itself as an anti-rational and anti-materialist movement. It is a politics of the poetic intuition, and as such it stands in opposition to Marxism and liberalism, which concern themselves with the proper arrangement of powers through a rational judgment of mundane material interests. Fascist idealism sounds pseudo-religious in nature, but Griffin holds that as a thoroughly modernist ideology, Fascism lacks the truly transcendent properties of any traditional religion. The nation exists in the body of humanity, and its myth is enacted by and for humanity.
In Italy and Germany, the Fascist myth reached its efflorenscence with the First World War. Even before the war broke out, political radicals of all stripes saw the prospect of total war not as the fruitless calamity it would become in the eyes of future generations, but rather as an exciting opportunity for national renewal. The petty politics of the old regimes would be swept aside as entire nations mobilized for war and fought not for wealth or power, but for the glory of the nation, sealing the national bond with their blood. The soldiers who took part in the war would be seen by the Fascists as a type of vanguard class; a class untainted by partisanship and which served only the
nation as a mythical expression. The "trenchocracy", as Mussolini would call them, were taken to be inherently apolitical, and were thus the only ones capable of carrying out the total revolution envisioned by Fascist movements.
A majority of the texts in this reader are various expressions of the faith Fascist intellectuals had in the rebirth of their respective nations, and the decadence and corruption of the old order. Futurists, traditionalists, and syndicalists alike shared this concept, and their appearance here as apologists for Fascism is a testament to the nebulousness of the Fascist idea; and how that nebulousness was utilized to brew a lethal cocktail of anti-capitalist, anti-liberal, anti-democratic, anti-communist, and anti-semitic sentiment to form the most notorious political ideology in history.