Fascism today aims to
transform democratic systems from within, rendering it more dangerous than its
past incarnations.
21 Jul 2019
If anyone needed further proof
that fascism is still alive and well in Italy, the footage of
Carola Rackete, the 31-year-old captain of the migrant-rescue ship Sea-Watch 3,
getting arrested in Lampedusa for trying to save 42 asylum seekers, provides a
graphic illustration.
The late Italian fascist
leader, Benito Mussolini, would have been proud of Italy's Interior Minister
Matteo Salvini for creating a country in which a young woman may face up to 10
years in prison for the unforgivable crime of saving human lives.
Salvini currently heads
Italy's largest political force and also recently launched the new Identity and Democracy populist group
in the European Parliament, which includes other far-right parties such as
France's National Front (FN) and Alternative for Germany (AfD).
Beyond Europe, efforts
to unify right-wing populists have spanned the globe. Former White House aide
Steve Bannon, for example, dreams of creating a united cross-border front
- from Brazil,
through the United
States and Europe, all the way to India and
the Philippines -
against refugees,
cosmopolitanism, and anyone who supports these, including Pope Francis.
The world has not seen a
resurgence in the radical right since fascism was defeated in the first half of
the 20th century. But these new proponents of this global right-wing upsurge
markedly differ from the fascist leaders of the past century; they seem to
espouse a new type of fascist ideology.
Almost a century ago,
classical fascism abandoned democratic liberties in order to pursue
internal cleansing and external expansion
without ethical or legal restraints. Although Mussolini,
Hitler, and Franco pursued these internal and external goals in different ways,
they all set themselves in opposition to a series of "others" that
were not only ideological (liberals and communists) but also ethnic (Jews, Roma
and other minorities).
Although US President Donald Trump, as
well as the European parties, gathered under the Identity and
Democracy umbrella, evince these traits in their rhetoric and, when they
can, in their actions, their use of fascist techniques to stimulate their base
and erode liberal democratic institutions are similar but not identical to those used by fascist
dictators of the 1920s and 30s.
The contemporary
sociopolitical context is quite different from that of the first half of the
20th century, so labelling these politicians as fascists in the classical sense
of the world is not quite accurate.
The main difference between
the classical and contemporary incarnations of fascism is that the version we
observe today is operating within democratic systems rather than outside them. Proponents
of 20th-century fascism wanted to change everything from above; Mussolini
defined it as "revolution against revolution". But fascism today aims
to transform democratic systems from within.
Thus over the past
decade, racist, homophobic, and xenophobic laws have resurfaced within
democratic regimes through democratic procedures across the globe. These
recrudescences are potentially more dangerous than surviving pockets of
classical fascism's anti-democratic ideology because mainstream conservative
forces tend to ignore and even support them.
This is particularly evident
in the US where the Republican Party continues to endorse Trump's racism and
hostility towards refugees and minorities as well as international and human
rights agreements.
Another major difference
between the two is that unlike classical fascism, its contemporary
version does not concern itself with social welfare. Alongside its
disastrous obsession with ethnic superiority, classical fascism took
on the utopic duty of crafting an order which would better address the social
and psychological needs of citizens who had been suffering the ravages of
capitalism. But what has replaced this dimension in contemporary fascism?
Having emerged in an age of
neoliberalism and competitive individualism, today's far-right parties no
longer feel the need to mobilise the masses by making grand promises of an
alternative society or civilisation that would better their lives. Instead,
they channel the anger and frustrations of isolated individuals who do not
necessarily belong to the right or the left towards the "perpetual
other" whose removal or ostracisation will supposedly solve all
socioeconomic problems.
This is why Trump, for
example, instead of supporting the Republican Party's economic policies or its
version of traditional national values, preaches a reactionary and xenophobic version of
American individualism - as his recent attack against four congresswomen of
colour has demonstrated.
This new nationalism is
no longer defined in traditional ideological terms but rather as a
resistance against the "threat" of globalisation and migration.
Jews, as historian Enzo
Traverso has pointed out, were the particular enemy of classical
fascism; Trump has altered and lengthened the list so that it now includes
blacks, Latinos, Muslims, and non-white immigrants. This list has taken an
additional patriarchal turn in a number of countries where feminists and queer activists are also portrayed as
enemies of the nations' traditional Christian values.
While there are indeed
substantial differences between the fascism of the past and what we see today,
the general historical trajectory will inevitably remain the same. That is,
just as the fascism of the early 20th century grew out of control and
ended in genocide, today, the ideology that Salvini, Bannon, etc subscribe to has
the potential to become even more violent if it remains unchecked.
While Rackete's defiance is
truly remarkable and should be commended, individual acts of courage will not
stop the new fascist wave threatening to sweep through Europe and the rest of
the world. We need collective action.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Santiago Zabala is ICREA
research professor of philosophy at the Pompeu Fabra University in Barcelona.
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