Fascism - Book Summary

Unraveling the cryptic world of fascism

When you hear the word "fascism," your mind probably conjures images of Hitler and Mussolini—fierce dictators of a bygone era, as seen in faded, sepia-toned photos in dusty history books. However, this term and its disturbing implications are not as far removed from our modern world as you might think. An increasing number of governments today are showing anti-democratic tendencies that echo the grim hues of fascism. This trend spans continents, from South America to Europe, stirring concern for the state of democracy worldwide.

In this narrative, we take a deep dive into the evolution of stable democracies into fascist regimes, exploring whether such a radical transformation could occur in the United States—the "land of the free." Using a blend of historical references and contemporary incidents, we will attempt to demystify the concept of fascism and understand how it establishes its ominous roots.

Through this journey, you'll unravel:

- The origins of the slogan "America First."

- Some alarming statements made by Donald Trump about anti-democratic leaders across the globe.

- Mussolini's unusual analogy of amassing power to plucking a chicken.

Decoding fascism: a unique power play rather than a political ideology

Fascism — a term that is bandied about quite frequently. It has been tagged to diverse subjects, from police officers to feminists, vegans to bureaucrats, across various platforms. But what does fascism really imply? And who exactly is a "fascist"?

Contrary to common belief, fascism is not a well-defined political ideology, but rather an amalgamation of strategies used to gain and maintain power. In the 1920s, when fascism first arose in Italy, it ranged from left-leaning proponents arguing for authoritarian rule favoring the working class to right-leaning advocates promoting a close-knit structure between the state and corporations.

Even in Nazi Germany, National Socialists combined their anti-Semitic propaganda with pledges of better education and increased pensions. Present-day governments exhibiting traces of fascism reflect a diverse ideological mix, from socialism in Venezuela to conservative nationalism in Hungary.

So, instead of figuring out who a fascist is, it's more illuminating to identify the distinguishing characteristics of fascism.

Fascism thrives on public discontent and resentment, whether stemming from lost wars or territories, diminished national pride, unemployment, or any mix of such factors. The most successful fascist leaders possess a charismatic allure, enabling them to transform public outrage into a sense of unity and purpose.

Once in power, fascists solidify their authority by controlling the information flow. Hitler's regime, for instance, mastered propaganda, treating Hitler's book, Mein Kampf, akin to the Bible, while using radio broadcasts to disseminate his hate-infused rhetoric to millions. Currently, authoritarian governments in nations like Russia and Turkey resort to spreading false information online and attempt to silence any media criticism.

Fascists typically purport to represent an entire nation or group, drawing a clear divide between the "insiders" and the "outsiders," much like the Jews in Nazi Germany or the so-called class traitors in Soviet Russia.

Lastly, unlike many other dictators, fascists do not fear public wrath. Instead of mollifying the masses, they aim to ignite their sentiments.

Now that we have identified the hallmarks of fascism, let's delve into understanding how fascists rise to power.

Fascism: a creeping menace often forged through democratic pathways

Italian dictator Mussolini once analogized seizing power to plucking a live chicken—done as quietly as possible, one feather at a time, until the job is complete, unnoticed until too late. This statement presents an apt metaphor for the slow, almost imperceptible onset of fascism, often rooted in democratic processes.

Consider the rise of Hitler as a prime example. His ascendancy was a careful blend of unlawful and democratic tactics. After a botched coup attempt in Bavaria, southern Germany, Hitler adopted what he termed a "policy of legality," propelling him to power through electoral victories. Once appointed chancellor, he dismantled the state's institutions—dissolving local political bodies, intimidating political rivals, purging the civil service of disloyal members, and establishing a totalitarian regime.

Several contemporary governments mirror this unsettling trend of utilizing democratic means to accomplish authoritarian objectives.

Take Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, Turkey's leader, who methodically strengthened his hold post his legitimate election in 2002. He began by dismantling institutions that could counterbalance his reign. Hundreds of military officers were apprehended under charges—some genuine, others fabricated—of plotting coups. His government took control of media outlets that were critical of him, and he enacted legislation allowing him to install loyal judges.

Following a genuine coup attempt in 2016, Erdoğan declared a state of emergency, arresting political adversaries and journalists. He won a referendum granting him sweeping powers to enact laws by decree, make arrests, and deny detainees the right to justice. Gradually, after his initial election, Erdoğan expanded his control while weakening the state's institutions.

Fascism envelops a nation subtly and quietly, often becoming apparent only when it has become too powerful to thwart.

To comprehend this better, let's delve deeper into the quintessential case of fascism—Nazi Germany.

Unraveling Hitler's rise: preying on the anxieties of a downtrodden nation

As Europe grappled with upheaval in the 1920s and '30s, Germany found itself in a particularly perilous position. The scars of defeat from World War I still festered, leaving many citizens feeling humiliated. Among them was a young veteran—Adolf Hitler.

A gas attack during the war had temporarily robbed Hitler of his sight. His vision returned in November 1918, but what he saw brought little comfort—a battered Germany, burdened with war reparations and territorial loss. Hitler and many of his compatriots felt a deep sense of betrayal—blaming bureaucrats, Bolsheviks, bankers, and Jews.

Hitler's fiery oratory skills became prominent more than a decade later, even though his party—the National Socialist German Workers' Party, or the Nazis—remained relatively obscure. The onset of the Great Depression further destabilized Germany, already weighed down by war reparations and dependent on foreign loans. The fallout was severe—credit became scarce, export markets crumbled, factory output dipped, prices soared, shops shuttered, and unemployment surged.

In this environment of dread, Hitler found his opportunity. He preyed on the panic, forging an emotional bond with the worried masses.

Behind closed doors, Hitler maintained that most people were simply looking for something—anything—to believe in. And they weren't particularly discerning about what that "something" was, as long as it echoed their anger, fueled their fears, and gave them a cause to rally around.

Distasteful as his message was, Hitler hit all those notes. He positioned himself as a simple man, standing firm against formidable foes, ready to restore Germany's lost glory. He reveled in the fury his speeches sparked in his rivals, aware that their outrage only invigorated his supporters. He convinced his followers that he was deeply invested in their welfare, even when his actions showed a blatant disregard for their lives.

As Hitler himself admitted, he had no qualms about peddling "colossal untruths." He reduced Germany's multifaceted problems to a fictitious, single cause, claiming that victory for the Aryan race and the annihilation of the Jews were the only possible outcomes.

This grotesque rhetoric was the fuel to his political ascent.

While Hitler and Nazism were uniquely cruel and fanatically racist, fascism itself isn't unique. In our next section, we'll explore why.

Fascism: a recurring specter in the annals of human history

Fascism often brings to mind notorious dictators like Hitler, Mussolini, and Stalin. But the fact is that its tentacles have reached far wider and recurred more frequently than we might imagine.

In the aftermath of World War I, the fascist ideology didn't stay confined to a few countries—it permeated politics globally.

Let's take a look at Britain, a nation known for its twentieth-century defense of freedom. Yet, even Britain wasn't immune to the pull of fascism. Sir Oswald Mosley—sporting a Hitler-style mustache and a libido to rival Mussolini's—formed the British Union of Fascists. His agenda mirrored the classic fascist playbook—investing in public works, economic protectionism, and clampdowns on foreigners, whether "Hebrew" or otherwise. Like other fascist leaders, Mosley amassed a personal security force—dubbed the "Blackshirts" for their dark uniforms—and drew large crowds to his street rallies. It was only the shocking sight of Hitler's brownshirts invading neighboring countries that ultimately undermined the acceptability of Mosley’s party.

Echoes of such movements reverberated across many nations. In India, Hindu nationalists, disgruntled by British rule and concerned about the Muslim population, found common cause with Hitler’s and Mussolini’s aggressive strategies. Other fascist groups sprouted in countries as diverse as Spain, Iceland, Romania, Czechoslovakia, and even America.

Fascist leaders often rise to power on the promise of resolving anxiety about jobs, immigration, and ineffective politicians.

Consider Mussolini. He capitalized on widespread Italian discontentment. He stirred up resentment against capitalists who exploited Italians, Bolsheviks who destabilized their society, and status-quo politicians who offered nothing but empty rhetoric. His pledge to "drenare la palude"—to "drain the swamp"—which involved sacking over 35,000 government officials, resonated powerfully with the Italian people.

Today, numerous regimes around the world appear to be flirting with, if not fully embracing, fascism. Let's delve deeper into two such instances.

Walking the tightrope: Venezuela and Hungary on the brink of fascism

While it's a relief that fully-fledged fascist governments are scarce today, we must remember that the boundaries separating democratic populism and fascist behavior are incredibly fragile. Two countries bear stark testimony to this—Venezuela and Hungary.

Let's first venture into Venezuela, where Hugo Chávez was legitimately elected president in 1998. His campaign championed workers' rights and the welfare of struggling families, promising to uplift a people neglected by a detached government. With the coffers overflowing from oil revenues, Chávez indeed managed to elevate living conditions in the country.

Chávez was famously charismatic, knowing how to wield his charm and popularity to his advantage. When he wanted to seize control over the Venezuelan oil company, he didn't merely issue a statement—he summoned the company's executives to a live television broadcast and fired them one by one. His fiery speeches—some extending to nine hours—often targeted his adversaries, most notably the United States.

Under Chávez, Venezuelans relished improved healthcare, better wages, and a renewed sense of national pride. While he was no Hitler or Mussolini, Chávez's charm and nationalist populism masked a troubling reality—he systematically eroded state institutions by suspending judges, purging government officials, and establishing a private security force to intimidate protesters.

Now, post-Chávez's death, Venezuela is crumbling under Nicholás Maduro, who lacks both Chávez’s charisma and the oil bounty of the 2000s. Not backing down, Maduro is overhauling the constitution and clamping down on opposition parties.

Meanwhile, in the heart of Europe, leaders are pushing the envelope of liberal democracy. Prime among them is Hungary’s Viktor Orbán. Although democratically elected as prime minister, Orbán openly advocates for an "illiberal democracy." He tirelessly stokes ethnic pride, mourns Hungary's territorial losses post-World War I, criticizes immigrants, and urges Magyar women — women of Hungarian ethnic descent — to have more babies. He, too, has consolidated control over the legal system and the electoral commission.

Just like Chávez in Venezuela, Orbán might not fit the typical fascist mold, but the warning signs are glaring.

The obvious question then arises: should we be worried about the threat to global democracy? Let's probe deeper.

Democracy under threat: a time for vigilance

Those who witnessed the Berlin Wall's collapse will recall the exhilaration of that moment—the promise of democracy standing tall and undefeated. Today, however, the thrill has dwindled, as more and more people are becoming open to alternatives to democracy.

This trend has been verified by The Economist’s Democracy Index, a measure of the health of democracies worldwide, based on factors like respect for legal processes and religious freedom. In 2017, the index revealed a decline in democratic health in an alarming 70 countries.

Further corroborating this concern, global surveys show that, although most people support representative democracy, one in four is receptive to systems that let a leader govern without parliamentary or judiciary interference. One in five even favors military rule. What’s causing this rise in anti-democratic sentiment?

Economic conditions, while not as dismal as post-World War I Europe, are still far from ideal. In Europe, a quarter of young people are unemployed, with the rates climbing higher for immigrants. So when a PhD student ends up working as a delivery driver or a high-school dropout struggles to find a job, it’s not hard to see why their trust in democratic systems might wobble.

Technology has played its part as well. From bank tellers and dressmakers to journalists and taxi drivers, traditional occupations are being threatened by technological advancements. In certain countries, economic scenarios eerily echo the interwar period in Europe a century ago.

On top of this, technology has strained the trust relationship between politicians and the public. While disinformation is not new—think Benjamin Franklin using the printing press to spread "fake news" about British atrocities during the American War for Independence—social media platforms have made it effortless to disseminate false information to massive audiences. In a world where news is consumed over a cup of coffee on Facebook, it's near impossible to discern the credibility of news sources, whether they are reputable journalists, provocateurs, foreign governments, or bots.

A concoction of economic instability and distrust in the solutions proposed by incumbent politicians can set the stage for the rise of fascism. This, according to the author, was a potent combination that led to Donald Trump's ascension to power.

Trump's reign: A dangerous precedent for aspiring strongmen

The United States has always been a shining emblem of freedom, hope, and democracy—a theme deeply intertwined with the country's history.

But as the author points out, unlike his predecessors, Donald Trump has deviated from this esteemed legacy, regularly lauding authoritarian regimes worldwide.

Consider Rodrigo Duterte—the leader of the Philippines, infamous for his ruthless "shoot first" policy. This directive spurs police and civilian vigilantes to eliminate suspected drug dealers, leading to the deaths of over 10,000 individuals, predominantly in impoverished communities, without due process. Duterte's response to the escalating fatalities has been alarming—he jokingly advises citizens to invest in funeral services and assures police officers on trial for power abuse that he will grant them pardons. Despite this flagrant disregard for human rights, Trump personally congratulated Duterte for doing an "incredible job".

This praise isn't reserved solely for Duterte. Trump has repeatedly commended autocratic leaders across the globe, from Egypt and Bahrain to Russia. He even expressed grudging admiration for Saddam Hussein for eliminating terrorists without due process. Conversely, he has been quick to instigate disagreements with America's long-standing democratic allies, such as Germany, Mexico, and South Korea—a country heavily reliant on American protection against North Korea's nuclear threats.

Furthermore, Trump's relentless attacks on American institutions have had far-reaching implications, emboldening anti-democratic governments worldwide. His relentless critiques of government institutions and society at large resonate globally. His decision to exclude certain news outlets from a press briefing led to the Cambodian government threatening to expel a group of American journalists from the country. A Cambodian spokesperson cited this as a "clear message" from the White House, emphasizing that freedom of expression must respect the state's power.

Even in China, the Communist Party has declared that U.S. media outlets, accused by Trump of spreading fake news, can be dismissed when they criticize China.

In essence, Trump's actions are not only emboldening authoritarians across the globe but also setting a dangerous precedent for aspiring strongmen. The question that begs to be asked is—what impact is this having on American soil?

The echoes of fascism in Trump’s narrative of victimhood and national rebirth

Fascist ideologies have always found fertile ground in grievances, finding enemies in various religious and national groups, capitalists, communists, and even perceived threats within national boundaries. Anyone acquainted with Trump's speeches might find this rhetoric of victimhood strikingly familiar.

As the author notes, Trump has a proclivity for painting a gloomy image of America as a perennial victim. A 2017 speech he delivered in Pennsylvania serves as a classic example. Here, Trump portrayed the United States as a casualty of "the greatest jobs theft" in global history, with factories shuttered and employment opportunities outsourced to far-flung nations. He lamented that the U.S. had spent "billions and billions" on international projects, yet had fallen short in protecting its own citizens from "gangs flooding into our country."

To contradict this narrative, one could point out that Pennsylvania’s unemployment rate has been on a downward trend over recent years, and that the state’s economy is bolstered by more than 200,000 jobs supported by exports. Yet, Trump’s nationalistic, simplistic, and bleak viewpoint resonates powerfully with people who are discontented with their current circumstances.

In response to this alleged victimhood, Trump has amplified his slogan of "America First". A slogan with a contentious past that seems ill-equipped for addressing present-day realities.

In 1940, the America First Committee, comprising an eclectic mix of anti-war advocates and Nazi sympathizers, banded together to oppose America's participation in World War II. The movement gained widespread popularity, fueled by the involvement of renowned aviator Charles Lindbergh, who openly voiced concerns that Jewish influence was edging America closer to war. The association of "America First" with this committee has since symbolized moral cowardice.

In today’s interconnected world, an inward-looking slogan like America First is ineffective. No challenge, whether economic or security-related, can be resolved in isolation. What this slogan does, however, is green-light tyrants to carry out their whims. After all, if America is allowed to prioritize its interests, why shouldn't Pyongyang develop nuclear weapons or Putin annex Crimea to put their respective country's interests first? Trump's portrayal of America First inadvertently validates—as fascism always has—the notion that a nation can assert its will simply because it chooses to.

This raises the pressing question—how concerned should Americans and the rest of the world be about the future of American democracy?

Fascism in the U.S.: A distant possibility but not beyond imagination

Despite its anti-democratic tendencies and authoritarian inclinations, the Trump administration does not embody fascism. Democratic institutions in the United States still stand firm. However, it's crucial to remember that fascism tends to creep up gradually. Given this insidious nature, could fascism potentially gain ground in the United States without being halted in its tracks?

Visualizing scenarios where fascism could find a foothold isn't too difficult.

Imagine the United States is besieged by devastating terrorist attacks resulting in a horrendous loss of life. American Islamic groups claim responsibility. In response, the president urges Americans to remain calm and peaceful, resisting the demands for a widespread crackdown on the mainstream Muslim population. As more attacks unfold, a charismatic young speaker emerges on social media and news platforms. He criticizes the political establishment for their weakness and pushes for a revolutionary movement to shatter the status quo, annihilate the terrorists, and restore America's greatness. In no time, he amasses thousands, and then millions, of followers.

The prospect of fascism creeping into American life, albeit remote, should compel citizens to remain vigilant against complacency.

When the author posed this question to her class of graduate students at Georgetown, one student instantly affirmed the possibility of a fascist America—precisely because most Americans believe it couldn't happen. He reasoned that the nation's confidence in its public institutions and values could lead to a collective blindness towards their gradual erosion. His argument was that people tend to cling to optimism, hoping for the best until it's too late to avert the worst.

In order to prevent the fragmentation of society where fascism can flourish, it's essential for Americans to rebuild their connections with each other.

Regrettably, the United States today is significantly divided. A few decades ago, citizens relied on the same evening news shows and read the same publications—Life, Time, Rolling Stone, or Newsweek. Even though individuals held divergent views, they were based on a common set of information. Nowadays, people inhabit their unique media bubbles that intensify their grievances rather than offering a balanced perspective. This has led to a reluctance to genuinely consider the viewpoints of political adversaries.

Considering this, it's not overly difficult to conceive of an event—a financial downturn, a terrorist attack, a political assassination—that could trigger a decisive shift away from democracy and towards fascism.

A concluding note

The primary takeaway from this discussion:

Fascism is not an anomaly or a deviation but a recurrent feature in the annals of history and politics. It's often elusive and challenging to prevent, as it emerges gradually, revealing its full extent only when it's already established. Exploiting grievances, divisions, and disillusionment with the existing political landscape, fascism poses a looming threat to numerous societies today. Therefore, it's essential for us to stay vigilant and to champion democracy at the first indications of it being threatened.