Chapter Content
Okay, so, like, let's talk about Fascism and Nazism, you know? It's a heavy topic, but it's, like, super important to understand, especially when you look at history.
So, there was this Russian novelist, Alexander Solzhenitsyn, and, like, he wrote something that really stuck with me. He said that, compared to, say, a Shakespeare villain like Macbeth or Iago, even, those guys only managed, like, a dozen corpses. Solzhenitsyn argued that those classic villains didn't have an ideology. And that's the key. Ideology, he said, gives evildoing, like, its justification, its, like, *reason* for being. It gives the bad guys the strength and determination they need. It makes their actions seem... good, somehow, in their own eyes and in the eyes of others. Like, they think they're doing something *right*, you know? And because of ideology, the twentieth century, like, *boom*, millions of people were killed. He points to the Inquisition, conquerors, colonizers, the Nazis, even the Jacobins during the French Revolution – all justifying their actions with, like, Christianity, the grandeur of the Motherland, civilization, race, or even, like, equality and brotherhood, you know, pretty crazy stuff.
The thing is, when you get this idea of a perfect future, a utopia, in your head, and you think you can actually *reach* it, then, like, even the most brutal actions seem okay, right? It's, like, the ends justify the means. And that, according to Solzhenitsyn, is the curse of ideology.
And it's not just politics, you know? Economic history isn't immune either, because economic historians, well, they have their own biases, their own ideologies. Numbers and charts can be interpreted in a bunch of different ways. But, like, Solzhenitsyn said, some things you just can't deny. You can't ignore the intentional murder of millions, or economic failures that lead to mass starvation. These ideologies in the 20th century are, like, necessary reading to kind of... puncture political and economic ideology. But it's always kind of shocking that they don't kill them entirely, you know?
And, in that period between the world wars, there were, like, three main ideologies battling it out, all wanting to completely change the economy and society.
One of them was, like, almost invisible, and we’d seen it before World War I: the idea that "the market giveth, and the market taketh away; blessed be the name of the market." The feeling that the world needs major alterations so it can be purified and be strong. That one rests on that word, “blessed,” right? And when you mix that with social Darwinism, it's, like, a particularly nasty combination. People were even saying, like, "Yeah, the market's tough, but it's good for the race, it ensures the survival of the fittest." So, even the bad stuff, the suffering caused by the laissez-faire market economy, was seen as, like, somehow good.
The second ideology was the really-existing socialism of Lenin and Stalin. And their thing was, like, pouring all their energy into getting rid of the market completely because, in their eyes, the market was the root of all evil. They believed that industrialization had created enough stuff to build a real utopia, and the market was just getting in the way.
Now, at the start of the 20th century, nobody really thought that Lenin and Stalin's socialism would end up killing the most people of all the ideologies. And even after World War I, or leading up to World War II, it still wasn't obvious.
But a lot of smart, observant people would have bet on the third ideology: fascism. It looked like the most dangerous one. And honestly, if everyone else hadn't teamed up to stop it, it probably would have won that race to the bottom. The 50 million or so people killed by fascist movements were just a taste of what they had planned for the world.
And just like the others, fascism was all about changing the economy. The old system had classes and interest-group politics. But the fascists said, "No, we need a unified nation, solidarity, a common purpose." They thought the market economy, with its rich bosses and worker unions, couldn't create that unity. Plus, they wanted to redistribute resources globally. They weren't just worried about poor workers, they were worried about poor *nations*, nations without resources, colonies, or land. The point of a fascist leader was to make the world economy work for their nation, not for some global elite.
Benito Mussolini of Italy was, like, the poster child for world fascism up until World War II, actually. It’s strange. He started out as a socialist, even protesting Italy’s imperialism in Libya. But then something happened...
See, in 1914, when World War I was starting, all the socialist leaders met in Brussels. They had agreed that workers shouldn't fight in wars, they should go on strike and shut everything down. But when they met, the Austrian socialist leader said that the workers in Vienna were chanting for war, not peace. And the French socialist leader called on French workers to defend their country, even against their socialist comrades. Only a few, like Lenin and Rosa Luxemburg, stood against the war.
Italy was neutral at first, so the Italian socialists were happy. But Mussolini was really shaken by all this. He saw that the Second International, this big socialist movement, had collapsed under the pressure of nationalism. He saw that, when things got tough, people identified with their nation first, and their class second.
The Italian socialists he knew started wanting to join the war on the side of the Allies. And Mussolini, he wanted to be a leader of a mass movement, right? So, he abandoned his anti-war stance. He realized that class wasn't strong enough to hold people together, but maybe the idea of a shared nation was.
Mussolini became convinced that socialism just wasn't inspiring enough, it couldn't match the enthusiasm of nationalism. Socialist leaders didn't seem to get that people felt a stronger connection to their nation than to their class or to humanity in general.
So, Mussolini started his own newspaper, calling for Italy to join the war. His old friends called him a traitor, said he'd been bribed. He probably had been, actually. And he was kicked out of the Socialist Party. He burned his bridges. He was now the leader of something *different*.
But what *was* that something?
At first, it was just the word "fascism." And an observation: that it was tough to get workers excited about economic issues, but easy to get them fired up for a war to reclaim lost territory. Appeals to national identity, blood and soil, could move people in ways that abstract ideals couldn't. So Mussolini, like, felt his way forward to developing his doctrine.
Basically, at the core of fascism was a contempt for limits, especially for reason. It was all about the will, the idea that you could change reality just by wanting to. And violence was seen as the ultimate argument. The ideology was secondary, but not unimportant. Why should someone submit to a fascist leader? The ideology has to resonate with them. So, let’s look at the failures that fascism ascribed to the classical order politicians were trying to rebuild after World War I. And honestly, the failures were real.
First, there was the economic failure: capitalism wasn't guaranteeing jobs or growth. Second, there was the fairness issue: either the rich were getting richer while everyone else stayed poor, or there wasn't enough of a gap between the middle class and the working class. You know, they couldn't win. The “not unequal enough” charge also carried, like, an ethno-racial aspect, which helped inspire the masses.
Third, there was the moral failure: the market economy reduced relationships to transactions, you do this and I pay you. But people want more than that. They want connection, recognition. Winning a prize or receiving a gift is, like, more satisfying than buying the same thing. The market, by ignoring these things, dehumanizes life.
Fourth, there was a lack of solidarity: the government wasn't acknowledging that everyone in the nation was in this together. They were failing to see that people had common interests that were far more important than any one individual’s interest. So the government needed to step in and regulate things. Not market forces, but government regulation, would set the price of labor and the quantity of employment.
Fifth, there was a government failure: the government itself was incompetent. Parliaments were full of corrupt people or ideologues who didn't care about the public interest. They needed a strong leader who would say what he thought and do what was needed.
These problems created a lot of discontent. And that’s where fascism found its platform.
Mussolini's first plank was nationalistic assertion: Italy had to be "respected," its borders had to be expanded. As far as possible, you know? His second plank was anti-socialism: beating up socialists and disrupting their organizations.
"Corporatism," government planning, at least on wages and incomes, was his third plank. Fascism would embrace the dignity of work and of occupations, and not value every form of work and every worker solely by what the market wanted to pay them.
And to make people behave, subordinate their class interests to their nation, they needed a strong leader: Mussolini. This was less a plank and more of a precondition, you know? People needed to be *led*, given a sense of national purpose by their leader. Rulers shouldn't listen, they should command.
So, was it real, or was it a con game? Was fascism an actual ideology, or a confidence trick to get wealth, status, and power. Did Mussolini, to get those things, just find people who wanted to be led? Then figure out what they wanted, and picked their pockets?
Well, maybe, but maybe not. Italy’s politicians tried to suppress and ally with fascism. In 1922, Mussolini threatened to make Italy ungovernable unless he was named prime minister. The king named him prime minister. From there he became dictator of Italy: Il Duce, or “The Leader.” By judicious murders, imprisonments, and political wheeling and dealing, he remained at the top of Italy until the Western allied armies of Britain and the United States came knocking in 1943.
However, fascism was disorganized, self-contradictory, confused, and vague. Most political movements have those qualities. It’s the goal of keeping friendships and alliances. Both drive wedges between your followers.
But fascism *was* real. It had too many followers to be a confidence trick. And these regimes tended to have certain elements: a leader who commanded, not represented; a unified community based on blood and soil, rejecting outsiders; propaganda; support for traditional hierarchies; hatred of socialists and liberals; and hatred of "rootless cosmopolites", which meant Jews and people who acted like Jews.
Fascism often seemed to be the only option. Especially if you didn't like liberal democracy, or if you thought it would lead to socialism. Many after World War I, therefore, thought fascism was the only choice left. Monarchy, aristocracy, theocracy were out. Plutocracy had trouble keeping a mass base. Fascism seemed to be it. And a lot of people were willing to support it.
Living between the wars, you might have thought fascism was the future. Democracy was in retreat. Everywhere you looked, there were authoritarian, nondemocratic governments.
So, let's talk about Germany. After World War I, supporters of the Socialist Party were called "Sozis." And for some reason, people in Bavaria made fun of people named Ignatz. It was like calling someone a country bumpkin. And there was a nickname for Ignatz: "Nazi." So, Hitler's political enemies started calling him and his party "Nazis." And the name stuck.
When Hitler took power in 1933, he was popular. Germany had recovered from the Great Depression relatively quickly. Unemployment fell. The government was spending on public works and military programs. Recovery in Germany was, like, actually pretty fast.
But Hitler, even in peacetime, seemed to be focused on weapons, not wealth. Political effectiveness and military capacity were the priorities.
So, political effectiveness makes sense. The Nazi movement was still a minority movement. They saw building more and stronger political support as a priority.
But weapons? Armies? Why? Why would anyone want to go through a world war... twice?
Well, Hitler disagreed. He actually kind of *liked* World War I.
His experiences during the war don't seem like they'd be something a normal person would call "good." But he thought they were.
He joined the Bavarian Army in 1914, even though Austria had rejected him as unfit. He joined the 16th Bavarian Reserve Regiment, and they were immediately thrown into combat at the First Battle of Ypres. It was a bloodbath.
The Germans called it the "Kindermord," the child death. Out of 90,000 Germans, 40,000 were killed or wounded in twenty days. The 16th Bavarian Reserve Regiment lost most of their men.
And this happened over and over again. The regiment was sacrificed in battle after battle. Hitler was wounded in 1916, hospitalized for two months. He begged to be sent back to the front. He was then temporarily blinded by a gas attack in 1918.
But these experiences didn't turn him off war.
After the war, he was demobilized and left to drift. He wasn't one of the soldiers they wanted to keep for the peacetime army. But Major Karl Mayr of the army's Intelligence Division picked him up as an undercover operative. Mayr sent him to spy on socialists. One of those groups was Anton Drexler's German Workers' Party. Drexler found Hitler to be "an absurd little man." But he was impressed with Hitler's speaking skills. He invited Hitler to join the party in 1919.
Five months later, the party became the Nazi Party. Hitler pushed Drexler out of the leadership. And in Mein Kampf, he described Drexler as "a simple worker, not very gifted as a speaker, no soldier," and "weak and uncertain."
The man who recruited Hitler to spy on Drexler's party, Karl Mayr, joined the Socialist Party and led some of their street bullies. In 1933, after Hitler took power, Mayr fled to France. But when the Nazis conquered France, he was on the Gestapo's list. He was sent to concentration camps, and murdered in 1945.
So, what did Nazism stand for? A lot of it can be understood by looking at how Adolf Hitler looked to the work of Thomas Robert Malthus.
Malthus, the pessimist who thought population would always outrun food supply, argued that nature or mankind would provide a corrective in the forms of war, famine, disease, and death, or “moral restraint.”
We know Malthus as someone whose theories described the past well, but didn't predict the future. Scientific progress had made his predictions obsolete.
But Hitler drew different conclusions. He thought Malthus could be used to think about foreign policy. He said that Germany's population was growing rapidly, and it would be hard to feed everyone.
Hitler saw four options. One was birth control, but he thought that would weaken the German race. A second was to increase agricultural productivity, but he thought that was doomed. A third was to buy food from abroad, but he thought that was unrealistic, that Britain would never allow it.
So, what was left? The fourth way: territorial expansion. He thought that Germany deserved more land, and that they had to take it by force, especially from Russia.
He thought that Russia was ripe for collapse, because it had been taken over by Bolsheviks and Jews. He drew on centuries of antisemitism, cloaked in social Darwinism.
All Germany had to do was build a big enough army, and be prepared. As Hitler said, "You only have to kick in the door and the whole rotten structure will come crashing down."
So there were four major points: German antisemitism; a belief in the German nation and the "Aryan" race; the understanding that war was the ultimate test; and the idea that conquest, requiring extermination, was necessary to create "living space" for Germans.
There also three presumptions: leadership principle; the use of terror; the desire to make sure that all of society served the national cause.
There you have Nazism. It began with dystopian expectations of war and violence, and then fully realized those horrors.
Hitler tested his ideology in 1939 by annexing Czechoslovakia. He took it more seriously in 1939, when he invaded Poland and started World War II. And he pursued it in 1941, when he invaded the Soviet Union. His entire foreign policy was about winning by the sword bread for the German nation and sod for the German plow. And he sought to exterminate, expel, or enslave all the Slavic peoples across Germany’s eastern border, and in genocidal earnestness implemented the Final Solution.
Perhaps fifty million people died because of Hitler's wars. But if the Nazis had won, that number would have tripled.
So, have I made a mistake by putting fascists in the same category as Nazis?
A lot of people applauded fascists.
Even some smart people. Like Leo Strauss, proudly stated in 1933 that even though the Nazis were misapplying them, he remained a believer in “fascist, authoritarian and imperial” principles.
Ludwig von Mises wrote of fascism in 1927, “Fascism and similar movements aiming at the establishment of dictatorships are full of the best intentions… [and] their intervention has, for the moment, saved European civilization. The merit that Fascism has thereby won for itself will live on eternally in history.”
At the start of the 1980s, Friedrich von Hayek wrote a letter to Margaret Thatcher suggesting that the British hew more closely to the methods of fascistic Augusto Pinochet.
All of these flirted with a temporary and tactical alliance with and allegiance to fascism.
But am I tarring their views by seeing them as part of the same species as Hitler? Fascists were tamer than the Nazis. They were less antisemitic, and they were less murderous.
But other fascists were identifiably of the same ideological genus as the Nazis. They recognized each other. Hitler wrote of his “profoundest admiration for the great man south of the Alps,” Benito Mussolini. Mussolini allied with Hitler.
So, have I made a mistake by not putting fascists in with socialists? After all, how much light really shines between the fascist and the socialist?
A lot of people seem to have gone directly from one to the other. George Orwell famously asked, “But aren’t we all socialists?”
There were policy differences, of course.
Hitler had said, “Why need we trouble to socialize banks and factories? We socialize human beings!”
For fascists, if material inequality and ruling-class luxury bothered you, it only demonstrated that you were not really with the program.
But do these constitute a difference in species, or just variation within a species properly called “totalitarian”?
Let us bring in as a reference British socialist historian Eric Hobsbawm, who, when writing of Lenin’s party, said it “gave even small organizations disproportionate effectiveness, because the party could command extraordinary devotion and self-sacrifice from its members, more than military discipline and cohesiveness, and a total concentration on carrying out party decisions at all costs,” he wrote. “This impressed even hostile observers profoundly.”
Is there any real difference between that and a fascist’s worship of a heroic leader?
Before the twentieth century, ideology didn't kill millions of people. It awaited the combination of aristocratic militarism, socialism, and fascism. It was only in the twentieth century that utopian aspirations led to dystopian horrors.
I think too much energy has been spent trying to find differences between these movements. Time spent on that is time wasted. The guards of Auschwitz were very like the guards of the Gulag Archipelago.
We should focus on where these movements got their energy. Why was the world unable to offer people a society in which they could live good lives? Karl Polanyi saw fascism and socialism as reactions against the market society’s inability or unwillingness to satisfy people’s rights. These failures gave energy to the thought that there needed to be a fundamental reconfiguration of economy and society that would respect people’s Polanyian rights.
Instead, both turned out to erase, in brutal and absolute ways, people’s rights, and people’s lives, by the millions. So why were people so gullible?
The dangers of a fascist turn were clear. The unlikelihood of success at even slouching toward a good society of those who took that turn ought to have been obvious.
Utopian faith is a helluva drug.