There is no such thing as fascist-neutral

One of the most amusing comments I came across in this year's iteration of the perennial January debate about fascism and anti-fascism—ignited every year by the anniversary of the Battle of Dražgoše—was a tweet by a prominent self-styled advocate for “alternative thinkers,” claiming that fascists today are merely a subculture. Move along, nothing to see here, as the French might say. Apparently, fascism has reached its "Omicron phase" and turned into something we’ll never get rid of, but will simply have to learn to live with. Endemic fascism.

On second thought, I revise that assessment: the comment wasn’t amusing. If there is anything more despicable than denying the existence and danger of fascism—with lines like “they’re not neo-Nazis, they’re patriots,” or “those aren’t Nazi symbols, it’s just Hindu folklore”—it is its trivialization. All of this raises the question: what is fascism, and how do we recognize it?

There is no shortage of definitions. Even Wikipedia or a basic political science crash course will give you a similar description of a societal system based on total state control, nationalism, and zero tolerance for political opponents, critics, and minorities. But perhaps no one has described the features of fascism—or what Umberto Eco called ur-fascism, or eternal fascism—more clearly than Eco himself in an essay published over twenty-five years ago in The New York Review of Books. His words have chillingly stood the test of time and seem even more relevant today than when they were first written.

To anyone who, during this most recent Dražgoše-triggered episode of Slovenian culture wars, cynically asked what fascism actually is, I recommend reading Eco’s essay. Multiple times.

Eternal fascism cultivates a cult of tradition, rejects modernism, and fetishizes irrationality. The Enlightenment and its legacy are seen as degenerate. Culture and liberal intelligentsia are enemies because they betray traditional values. Dissent is betrayal. Eternal fascism thrives on fear of difference, on external enemies and foreign invaders. It exploits social and economic frustrations and appeals to people suffering from hardship and political humiliation. As comfort, it offers those without a clear social identity the most general privilege of all: being born in the same country.

Eternal fascism is by definition nationalist and racist. It is macho, disrespectful to women, and intolerant toward sexual minorities. It is populist or selectively populist, as Eco describes it. The bearer of rights is not the individual, but the People—as a monolithic entity that expresses a collective will. But since no large group of individuals truly shares a unified will, it is the Leader who claims the right to interpret it. The People are merely a theatrical fiction.

Because nothing can be above the People, eternal fascism rejects “rotten” parliamentary democracy. Under Mussolini, the legislature became a fictionalized executive power, subordinating the judiciary and media, and issuing laws itself.

Eternal fascism uses Orwellian Newspeak, built on a reduced vocabulary and syntax, to limit the capacity for complex and critical thought.

Though most often quoted for its list of fourteen traits, Eco’s essay is worth reading in full—especially the part about the Italian resistance movement. He writes:

“In my country today, there are those who say the myth of the Resistance was a communist lie. It’s true that the communists exploited the Resistance as if it were their private property, since they played the main role in it; but I remember partisans with scarves of many colours… In my country today, some say the liberation war was a tragic period of division and that all we need now is national reconciliation. The memory of those terrible years should be repressed, refoulée, verdrängt. But Verdrängung breeds neurosis. If reconciliation means compassion and respect for all those who fought their war in good faith, then forgiveness does not mean forgetting.”

While resistance to fascism was not solely the domain of the communist left, Eco also sees ideological plurality in totalitarianism.

“If by totalitarianism we mean a regime that subordinates every individual action to the state and its ideology, then both Nazism and Stalinism were totalitarian regimes.”

Indeed, a hallmark of fascism is the glorification and instrumentalization of violence—a level that not only Nazism, but also Stalin and the Khmer Rouge elevated far beyond anything Italian fascism ever reached. That’s not to say Mussolini wouldn’t have tried if given more time.

What stands out in Eco’s essay is the recognition that most—if not all—of the characteristics of eternal fascism are also recognizable in extreme populism, albeit perhaps at a lower level of intensity. For some, this is enough reason to scream “fascism” at every mention of tradition, nationhood, or fear of outsiders. While I wouldn't claim that caution is unnecessary, trivializing such weighty terms can backfire—especially when they start to lose their meaning.

First, because of the very social frustrations and injustices that Eco also writes about. The fact that these are emotions which populism (and fascism) exploit doesn’t mean they aren’t real—or even justified. We live in a time where many people have very real reasons to feel economically, socially, and politically marginalized.

Labelling every such expression of dissatisfaction—however emotional, aggressive, or offensive—as fascism only plays into the hands of those who seek to exploit social tensions for their own gain. It fuels identity-based polarization in which opinions, ideas, and values lose meaning and are reduced to slogans—like uniforms on a battlefield in a cultural war, helping us distinguish “us” from “them.” When social conflict is reduced to a hollow culture war, populism (and eventually even fascism) is already halfway to victory.

For similar reasons, in confronting disturbing social phenomena, we should avoid rhetoric of violence and death. Regardless of the context or intention, such language risks normalizing and trivializing violence—not only verbal—in both politics and society. In the end, those who benefit most are the ones with the least scruples—or even the greatest eagerness—for using violence.

This is not to suggest that we must be tolerant or understanding of the intolerable. Eco says we must remain vigilant:

“Ur-fascism is still around us, sometimes in plain clothes. It would be so much easier if someone appeared on the world stage and said, ‘I want to reopen Auschwitz, I want the Blackshirts to march again in the squares of Italy.’ Life is not that simple. Ur-fascism can come back under the most innocent of disguises. Our duty is to uncover it and point our finger at every one of its new forms—every day, in every part of the world.”

At the same time, in resisting fascism, it does us no good to slap the “fascist” label too hastily or too broadly, branding anyone who disagrees with us. Nor should we ignore the questions, dilemmas, injustices, and fears that populism exploits and mercilessly manipulates.

Anti-fascism is a core civilizational value, but it does not entitle anyone to always be right in everything—except, of course, when it comes to fascism. On that front, you can only be against it or for it. There is no such thing as fascist-neutral.