I consider the free and easy use of the word fascism to be a figment of the Left’s dominance after the second World War. It is pretty much a useless term (as ‘totalitarianism’ is, for that matter). And, no offense to Flynn or Professor Salerno, but the so-called ‘economics of fascism’ were never implemented by any fascist government, their de facto economic policies were Progressive-Liberal in nature and origin. National Socialist Germany was not fascist, nor was its economic ‘policy’.
My view of what fascism is stems from Gottfried. Fascism is a specific post-war ideology that arose in south-central Europe in response to the destruction of the First World War, a reaction against the depridations of democratic governments and a response the rising threat of Communist parties. By the time the German government overthrew the Italian regime it was dead and only exists (to the extent that it does) in assorted revisionist, quasi-fascist ‘third position’ parties.
Another vastly abused term, by the likes of Jonah Goldberg and Glenn Beck, is Progressive. They use ‘Progressive’ and ‘Fascist’ to describe everything they disapprove of, and often interchangably to the vast irritation of any competent intellectual historian.
Peter Brimelow was correct to observe in last weekend’s Internet chat that neoconservatives believe not in fascism but in “Goldbergism” when they push for open borders and an aggressive foreign policy in the name of human rights. Jonah Goldberg, one of their major political theorists, has explained on NROnline that European conservatives like Joseph de Maistre were really on the left, seeing that they rejected “human rights,” which is the essence of a conservative belief system. No matter how silly Goldberg’s interpretation may seem, what he enunciates is the current neoconservative dogma that justifies imperial expansion. And it is hard to grasp anything fascist about Goldberg’s redefinition of conservatism. Goldberg arrives at his view from reading the English social democratic historian Isaiah Berlin, who plays up the derivation of fascist thinking from Maistre’s attack on the universalism and abstract ideals of the French Revolution. Although Berlin overstates this connection, he is nonetheless justified in perceiving the fascists as being connected to European counterrevolutionary traditions. The neoconservatives are not only not connected in any way to such traditions but are clearly on the side of what Michael Ledeen calls the “creative destruction” of the social and cultural traditions of other peoples.
Without judging the merits of this project, it seems that those who pursue it are not definable as fascists. They may in fact be far more destructive but are not a subgenus of interwar fascists who have landed up in our society. Depicting them as such depends on an underdetermined definition that serves strictly polemical ends. Just because all modern Western industrial states have large administrations that socialize the family and feature public education does not make them “fascist.” Fascists took advantage of a political paradigm they shared with non-fascist modern governments, in order to achieve in some cases counterrevolutionary ends. But they did not initiate the welfare state, which flourished without the fascists, on the Euro-American left. Nor were the fascists unique in having military dictators and wars of expansion. Both Tom Woods’s The Politically Incorrect Guide to American History and Tom DiLorenzo’s study of the Great Emancipator as state-builder provide illustrations of Lincoln’s authoritarian manner that show bad European habits could crop up here as well. But that happened generations before there was a fascist movement.
It is not accurate to refer to Abraham Lincoln as a “fascist,” because he applied military force to quell the Southern secession and ruled as a military dictator. Political leaders can do things that are open to condemnation without being fascists. It would also not be irrelevant to cite the case of one of Lincoln’s precursors, Oliver Cromwell, who also slaughtered secessionists, to reunite the United Kingdom, and whom the young Lincoln saw as someone he wished to emulate. Yet curiously the two men, long viewed as being alike in their nationalist fervor, connection to an Anglo-Saxon Protestant culture, and role as social modernizers, have contributed to very different cults. After being identified for centuries with republicanism and Protestant sectarians, Cromwell became a hero for rightwing English nationalists, including the fascist followers of Sir Oswald Mosley in the late thirties. Lincoln, by contrast, has become a god figure for the Left, from the communist Abraham Lincoln Brigade fighting in the Spanish Civil War down to the civil rights movement and his current apotheosis, as the incarnation of global democratic ideals. My friend Tom Di Lorenzo has made this last point clear by debating Lincoln-admirers, who invariably bring with them leftist agendas. But neither Cromwell nor Lincoln produced the twentieth-century cults that sprang up around their putative achievements. The Irish are certainly entitled to dislike Cromwell and his son-in-law for devastating their land during the English Civil War and like Paul Craig Roberts, I cannot find any sane reason for a Southerner whose family suffered during Lincoln’s invasion of the South to revere this brutal nationalist. But neither figure belonged to the twentieth century or to its ideological wars; and both have been co-opted to symbolize battles that are no longer theirs. Like Cromwell, Lincoln was neither a fascist nor a neocon
Pete
Brimelow was correct to observe in last weekend’s Internet chat that neoconservatives believe not in fascism but in “Goldbergism” when they push for open borders and an aggressive foreign policy in the name of human rights. Jonah Goldberg, one of their major political theorists, has explained on NROnline that European conservatives like Joseph de Maistre were really on the left, seeing that they rejected “human rights,” which is the essence of a conservative belief system. No matter how silly Goldberg’s interpretation may seem, what he enunciates is the current neoconservative dogma that justifies imperial expansion. And it is hard to grasp anything fascist about Goldberg’s redefinition of conservatism. Goldberg arrives at his view from reading the English social democratic historian Isaiah Berlin, who plays up the derivation of fascist thinking from Maistre’s attack on the universalism and abstract ideals of the French Revolution. Although Berlin overstates this connection, he is nonetheless justified in perceiving the fascists as being connected to European counterrevolutionary traditions. The neoconservatives are not only not connected in any way to such traditions but are clearly on the side of what Michael Ledeen calls the “creative destruction” of the social and cultural traditions of other peoples.
Without judging the merits of this project, it seems that those who pursue it are not definable as fascists. They may in fact be far more destructive but are not a subgenus of interwar fascists who have landed up in our society. Depicting them as such depends on an underdetermined definition that serves strictly polemical ends. Just because all modern Western industrial states have large administrations that socialize the family and feature public education does not make them “fascist.” Fascists took advantage of a political paradigm they shared with non-fascist modern governments, in order to achieve in some cases counterrevolutionary ends. But they did not initiate the welfare state, which flourished without the fascists, on the Euro-American left. Nor were the fascists unique in having military dictators and wars of expansion. Both Tom Woods’s The Politically Incorrect Guide to American History and Tom DiLorenzo’s study of the Great Emancipator as state-builder provide illustrations of Lincoln’s authoritarian manner that show bad European habits could crop up here as well. But that happened generations before there was a fascist movement.
It is not accurate to refer to Abraham Lincoln as a “fascist,” because he applied military force to quell the Southern secession and ruled as a military dictator. Political leaders can do things that are open to condemnation without being fascists. It would also not be irrelevant to cite the case of one of Lincoln’s precursors, Oliver Cromwell, who also slaughtered secessionists, to reunite the United Kingdom, and whom the young Lincoln saw as someone he wished to emulate. Yet curiously the two men, long viewed as being alike in their nationalist fervor, connection to an Anglo-Saxon Protestant culture, and role as social modernizers, have contributed to very different cults. After being identified for centuries with republicanism and Protestant sectarians, Cromwell became a hero for rightwing English nationalists, including the fascist followers of Sir Oswald Mosley in the late thirties. Lincoln, by contrast, has become a god figure for the Left, from the communist Abraham Lincoln Brigade fighting in the Spanish Civil War down to the civil rights movement and his current apotheosis, as the incarnation of global democratic ideals. My friend Tom Di Lorenzo has made this last point clear by debating Lincoln-admirers, who invariably bring with them leftist agendas. But neither Cromwell nor Lincoln produced the twentieth-century cults that sprang up around their putative achievements. The Irish are certainly entitled to dislike Cromwell and his son-in-law for devastating their land during the English Civil War and like Paul Craig Roberts, I cannot find any sane reason for a Southerner whose family suffered during Lincoln’s invasion of the South to revere this brutal nationalist. But neither figure belonged to the twentieth century or to its ideological wars; and both have been co-opted to symbolize battles that are no longer theirs. Like Cromwell, Lincoln was neither a fascist nor a neocon.