Blog
[ Created: 2010-07-13 16:55:38  Updated: 2017-06-28 10:12:15 Owner: rl ]
Title: Historical Fascism     
 
 
 
 
 
 













From

"There's a element of truth to the basic theme (although not to the headline): the [U.S.] state is getting more and more deeply involved in business, even taking controlling interests in some private companies. And the state is even trying to make policy for private companies they do not control, but merely help with infusions of capital, as in the recent call for salary caps for certain CEOs. So state power is growing at the expense of corporations.

But that's not socialism. Socialism rests on a firm theoretical bedrock: the abolition of private property. I haven't heard anyone this side of Barney Frank calling for any such thing. What is happening now and Newsweek is honest enough to say so down in the body of the article is an expansion of the state's role, an increase in public/private joint ventures and partnerships, and much more state regulation of business. Yes, it's very European, and some of the Europeans even call it social democracy, but it isn't.

It's fascism. Nobody calls it by its proper name, for two basic reasons: first, because fascism has long since lost its actual, historical, content; it's been a pure epithet for many decades. Lots of the people writing about current events like what Obama et. al. are doing, and wouldn't want to stigmatize it with that 'f' epithet.

[D]uring the great economic crisis of the 1930s, fascism was widely regarded as a possible solution, indeed as the only acceptable solution to a spasm that had shaken the entire First World, and beyond. It was hailed as a third way between two failed systems (communism and capitalism), retaining the best of each. Private property was preserved, as the role of the state was expanded. This was necessary because the Great Depression was defined as a crisis of the system, not just a glitch in the system. And so Mussolini created the Corporate State, in which, in theory at least, the big national enterprises were entrusted to state ownership (or substantial state ownership) and of course state management. Some of the big Corporations lasted a very long time; indeed some have only very recently been privatized, and the state still holds important chunks so-called golden shares in some of them.

When Roosevelt was elected in 1932, in fact, Mussolini personally reviewed his book, Looking Forward, and the Duce's bottom line was, 'this guy is one of us.'

As an economic fix, the Corporate State was not a great success, either in America or in Italy. Roosevelt's New Deal didn't cure America's economic ills any more than Mussolini's Third Way did. In both countries, however, its most durable consequence was the expansion of the ability of the state to give orders to more and more citizens, in more and more corners of their lives. In the first half of the twentieth century, that was hardly unique to the fascist states; tyranny was the order of the day in the socialist or communist countries as well (not for nothing were so many learned books written about totalitarianism, which embraced both systems). Paul Johnson writes of a new species of despotic utopias, and Richard Pipes went so far as to call both Soviet Bolshevism and Italian fascism heresies of socialism."

And from

"Our liberties are indeed threatened, but by a tyranny of a very different sort.

Most of us imagine the transformation of a free society to a tyrannical state in Hollywood terms, as a melodramatic act of violence like a military coup or an armed insurrection. Tocqueville knows better. He foresees a slow death of freedom. The power of the centralized government will gradually expand, meddling in every area of our lives until, like a lobster in a slowly heated pot, we are cooked without ever realizing what has happened. The ultimate horror of Tocqueville's vision is that we will welcome it, and even convince ourselves that we control it.

There is no single dramatic event in Tocqueville's scenario, no storming of the Bastille, no assault on the Winter Palace, no March on Rome, no Kristallnacht. We are to be immobilized, Gulliver-like, by myriad rules and regulations, annoying little restrictions that become more and more binding until they eventually paralyze us.

Subjection in minor affairs breaks out every day and is felt by the whole community indiscriminately. It does not drive men to resistance, but it crosses them at every turn, till they are led to surrender the exercise of their own will. Thus their spirit is gradually broken and their character enervated.

The tyranny he foresees for us does not have much in common with the vicious dictatorships of the last century, or with contemporary North Korea, Iran, or Saudi Arabia. He apologizes for lacking the proper words with which to define it. He hesitates to call it either tyranny or despotism, because it does not rule by terror or oppression. There are no secret police, no concentration camps, and no torture. The nature of despotic power in democratic ages is not to be fierce or cruel, but minute and meddling. The vision and even the language anticipate Orwell's 1984, or Huxley's Brave New World. Tocqueville describes the new tyranny as an immense and tutelary power, and its task is to watch over us all, and regulate every aspect of our lives.

It covers the surface of society with a network of small complicated rules, minute and uniform, through which the most original minds and the most energetic characters cannot penetrate, to rise above the crowd.

We will not be bludgeoned into submission; we will be seduced. He foresees the collapse of American democracy as the end result of two parallel developments that ultimately render us meekly subservient to an enlarged bureaucratic power: the corruption of our character, and the emergence of a vast welfare state that manages all the details of our lives. His words are precisely the ones that best describe out current crisis:

That power is absolute, minute, regular, provident and mild. It would be like the authority of a parent if, like that authority, its object was to prepare men for manhood; but it seeks, on the contrary, to keep them in perpetual childhood: it is well content that the people should rejoice, provided they think of nothing but rejoicing. For their happiness such a government willingly labors, but it chooses to be the sole agent and the only arbiter of that happiness; it provides for their security, foresees and supplies their necessities, facilitates their pleasures, manages their principal concerns, directs their industry, regulates the descent of property, and subdivides their inheritances: what remains, but to spare them all the care of thinking and all the trouble of living?

The metaphor of a parent maintaining perpetual control over his child is the language of contemporary American politics. All manner of new governmental powers are justified in the name of the children, from enhanced regulation of communications to special punishments for hate speech; from the empowerment of social service institutions to crack down on parents who try to discipline their children, to the mammoth expansion of sexual quotas from university athletic programs to private businesses. Tocqueville particularly abhors such new governmental powers because they are Federal, emanating from Washington, not from local governments.""

Look for the power creep from the state capitols to Washington. With state governments going hat in hand to D.C. to get some of the "stimulus" gravy, it already has begun. Our slide towards fascism is accelerating.