The resistible rise of the modern
fascist.
Western liberal democracy is under more stress than at any time in eight decades. But today’s wannabe fascists are more mortal than most of us realise.
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| The master (left) and his apprentice |
There are two ways of describing fascism. The first is the
way of the strict scholastic historian: that fascism was a system of politics
and government that arose in Europe in the 1920s and was defeated by 1945. In
its most extreme form, this formulation even denies that the Nazis fitted the
description: the only real fascists were Italian and Hitler was something else.
As a way of understanding what’s happening now, it‘s not very helpful.
But fascism can also be seen as a process, not as a finished
product but as a movement heading in
that unmistakeable direction. Trump, Putin, Farage, Le Pen, Erdoğan, Maduro, Orbán
and Bolsonaro do not fit the first definition but sit comfortably within the
second. And we should worry much more about where these simultaneous outbreaks
of – yes, fascism – are going, rather than where they are now; because the
world has seen all this before.
The pathway to fascism has some recognisable, common
elements. There must be a single, charismatic leader in control of everything.
Outsiders – migrants, Jews, Muslims, homosexuals, political outcasts – are
relentlessly targeted and blamed for the county’s ills. And the promises: once
the great leader achieves power, the disaffected mass of ordinary people will
bask in the warm sunlight of prosperity and fulfilment. The immigrants will be
deported, housing stress will disappear, the economy will be supercharged,
prices will fall and the trains will run on time.
It is magical thinking. But there’s a market for magic,
particularly when those currently in power just aren’t delivering.
Madeleine Albright, the pre-eminent American diplomat,
called her final book Fascism: A Warning.
The primrose path to fascism
Would-be authoritarian leaders have no prospect of power if
democratic governments do a decent job of serving the people. Only when
democratic leaders fail, and their electorates sink into despair and anger,
does the loudmouth populist stand a chance.
In almost every case, fascist and quasi-fascist leaders who
gained power did so by winning an election. The challenge then was to stay
there. The usual answer – by being a really good, intelligent and responsive
government that delivered on its promises, and standing peacefully aside if the
voters later change their minds – is not part of the playbook. Populist
authoritarians seldom govern well. Their promises are too implausible to be
kept; they have little understanding of the complexities of government administration;
and they lack the humility to accept the compromises and the limits to power
that are inherent in a complex society.
So, to remain in control without being able to deliver the
goods, they must subvert or destroy the democratic system that elected them.
The most obvious example of such a work-in-progress is the administration of
Donald Trump, but closely similar patterns can be found wherever the rule of
liberal democracy gives way to its opposite, and the pathway to fascism opens
up.
Trump became president because so many Americans believed
the two established parties existed not for them but for rich people: the
bankers of Wall Street and the 889 billionaires (and political donors) whose
personal wealth equals 25% of the nation’s GDP.
It didn’t help that Hillary Clinton, in the lead-up to the
crucial election she was to lose, was paid $US675,000 ($A1,012,500) by Goldman
Sachs for three speeches. The arrogance and blind insensitivity, common to both
the mainstream forces in both the Democrat and Republican parties, played poorly
among hundreds of millions of middle-class and working-class voters who felt,
with cause, that politics-as-usual had left them behind. Trump won by default.
Since first becoming president in January 2017, he supercharged the process of suborning the courts which Republicans in Congress had already begun. As places became vacant in the judiciary, new and highly politicised right-wingers were appointed instead. It affected all federal courts but, most detrimentally, it turned the Supreme Court – always politicised but seldom as badly as this – into the judicial wing of the Trump White House.
Despite claiming to stand for ordinary people, Trump’s tax
cuts for corporations and the richest individuals have greatly increased the
corrosive inequality in income and wealth that propelled him into the
presidency. Government programs, like Medicaid and food assistance for the
poor, have been gutted. Health insurance premiums surged when Trump dismantled
healthcare subsidies.
He has pardoned dozens of criminals (though only his
criminals); turned the Department of Justice into a weapon of personal revenge;
made billions from cryptocurrency and property deals despite the emoluments
clause in the constitution; replaced the heads of crucial agencies,
including the FBI, with acolytes of his own; attacked the independent Federal
Reserve and will soon replace Jay Powell, the widely-respected chair; overseen
the boosting of congressional gerrymandering, revoking security for people he
doesn’t like, including his former Vice-President Mike Pence and his former
National Security Adviser, John Bolton; stopped enforcing the Corporate
Transparency Act; closed the FBI’s public corruption squad; used National Guard
troops to occupy cities governed by the Democratic Party; fired the head of the
national statical agency because he didn’t like the jobs figures; pressured
television networks to cancel satirical talk shows he didn’t like.
And so on.
“Dictators ride to and fro upon tigers which they dare not
dismount,” said Winston Churchill. “And the tigers are getting hungry.”
Donald Trump knows that well. So does that quintessential
Trump whisperer, Steve Bannon. “Seize the institutions,” he has said
repeatedly. “Seize them and purge them.”
Those institutions of government are the essential elements
of a free society. The constitution. The rule of law. Checks and balances on
power. The armed forces, the courts and the congress, the media, and the public
service: seize them all.
“And what do we have to counter it with? We have to counter
it with more action, more intense action, more urgency. We’re burning daylight.
If you look across every aspect of this, we have to codify what President Trump
has done by executive order.
“We have to understand that if we don’t take this to the
maximum—a maximalist strategy now, with a sense of urgency, and in doing this,
seize the institutions—if we don’t do that now, we lose this chance forever,”
Bannon said. “Because you’re never gonna have another Trump.”
But if the 22nd amendment of the US constitution
prevails – it forbids anyone serving as president for more than two terms –
Trump will be out the door on 20 January 2029, never to return. But he and his
acolytes say they are developing a plan to stay. And stay. And stay.
“I haven’t really thought about it” he said.
“But I have the best poll numbers I’ve ever had.” “I would love to do it,”
Bannon is more certain. “Well he’s going to get a third
term. So, Trump ’28, Trump is going to be president in ‘28 and people ought to
just get accommodated with that,” he told The Economist.
“There’s many different alternatives,” Bannon said when asked about the 22nd
Amendment. “At the appropriate time, we’ll lay out what the plan is.”
But holding onto power forever is tough, even when you gain
almost complete control of those institutions of government and of society.
That’s the difficulty being faced right now by two of the most entrenched
neofascist leaders: Nicolás Maduro in Venezuela and Viktor Orbán in Hungary.
Studying how they hold onto power, despite a strong oppositions and majorities
of citizens who want them gone, shows us ow fascism works in the modern world.
But can they govern?
Fascists and wannabe fascists are advancing so strongly in
so many places that it’s easy to forget how vulnerable they really are. And
their greatest vulnerability is their plain ineptitude at governing. When they
finally get into power, they are the dog that caught the car.
Some, when first in power, appear to increase general
prosperity and take measures – often against immigrants – that win favour. But
typically, those early measures, such as providing subsidies and generous,
unfunded welfare payments, store up trouble for later. When Hugo Chávez first
became president of Venezuela in 1999, he made the judiciary more independent
but soon, as rulings went against him, packed the bench with cronies. He purged
the bureaucracy, replacing independent and inquisitive public servants with sycophants. He revoked the operating licences
of radio and television stations that broadcast criticism of the government.
But the good times did not last. By spending so freely,
Chávez and his lieutenants set themselves up for the bad times which, when they
came, they could not handle.
“Chávez wasted enormous sums of money on projects that
tripped over themselves because he failed to appreciate the need for expertise
in running an oil company, a business, a farm or a justice system. A leader can
become popular by compelling supermarkets and appliance salesmen to charge less
for their products but the cheering stops when the stores go out of business
and food disappears from the shelves.”
“Look at the mess we’re in with all these experts,” said
Trump. He, Chávez and Hitler all thought they knew better. They were wrong.
When Chávez died in 2013 his lieutenant, Nicolás Maduro,
took over. The new man had all of Chávez’s faults and none of his virtues, but
his special skill was staying in power. He’s still there, presiding over a
country which once had hope and wealth, but which is now in tatters. Venezuela
is a classic banana republic, only with oil instead of fruit. It sits on vast
reserves of oil and, when prices were high, the government partied. When prices
fell, the long hangover kicked in.
Norway, flush with the riches of North Sea oil, realised
that the oil would one day run out, so in 1990 it set up a sovereign wealth
fund to bank some of the profits. That fund now holds $US2.1 trillion, an
amount equal to 1.5% of the market value of all the world’s listed companies.
Chávez and Maduro didn’t do that. Between 2014 and 2021, the
Venezuelan economy shrank by three-quarters. By 2018, inflation soared to over
130,000%. Life savings were wiped out, businesses went bust and the currency
became worthless. It still is, even though inflation has since moderated.
According to the International Monetary Fund,
it’s now at only 270%.
The presidential election in 2024 was clearly won by the
opposition but the results were fixed. What followed was a level of repression
and cruelty remarkable even for South America.
There have been many extra-judicial killings: just how many
is not known.
This, then, is the archetype of the progress from democratic
election to fascism: election, initial success, prolonged failure, repression
and mass murder.
Often, fortunately, the cycle is incomplete. Donald Trump
went straight to failure without passing success. He is giving repression his
best shot but things keep getting in the way, like the law and the
constitution. His chances of retaining an obedient congress after the 2026
mid-terms seems increasingly remote, and his chances of a third term are pure
fantasy.
Viktor Orbán is knocking on the door of the final stage of
perfect fascism but, unlike Maduro, doesn’t have the military or the police
onside. In the end, in even the most liberal states, ultimate power grows (as
Chairman Mao thoroughly understood) out of the barrel of a gun. If you don’t
have the guns, you don’t get the ultimate power.
The tigers are getting hungry
About one important thing, Donald Trump was right. The Deep
State is real.
“If you put me back in the White House, their reign is over
– and they know it,” he told
a conservative conference in 2023. “I will totally obliterate the Deep State. I
will fire the unelected bureaucrats and shadow forces who have weaponized our
justice system like it has never been weaponized before.”
The Deep State, as Trump calls it, consists of the
countervailing forces which protect liberal democracy, the constitution and the
rule of law. It is the courts, the professionals in agencies like the National
Institutes of Health, the Centers for Disease Control, the Bureau of Labor
Statistics, independent media like The New York Times, public
broadcasters, law enforcement agencies like the FBI, and the universities.
But even if he succeeded in obliterating these forces of law
and democracy, remaining in power would be more difficult than he seems to
think. The democratic impulse is by no means universal, but where it exists it
can run very deep. This is the lesson now being learnt by Viktor Orbán in
Hungary.
In 2022, Orbán and his Fidesz party won another landslide
election, maintaining a supermajority in Hungary’s parliament that allows him
to change the constitution as he wishes.
Kim Lane Scheppele, a Professor
of Sociology and International Affairs at Princeton University, has worked on
Hungarian constitutional law since the 1990s. In a 2022 article in the Journal
of Democracy, she explains how Orbán has remained in power despite a
crashing economy and soaring unpopularity:
“Against all predictions, however, Orbán had his biggest
election triumph yet. On the eve of the election, polls had put Fidesz at about
5 percentage points ahead of the opposition, within the margin of error. Yet
Orbán came out 20 points ahead on election day, winning 83 percent of the
single-member districts and 54% of the party-list vote. Orbán did not just
retain his two-thirds majority in parliament – he now has a comfortable cushion
with 68% of the seats. With the worst opposition showing since the fall of the
Berlin Wall, [opposition] United for Hungary members are trying to figure out
what path might lie ahead given that four more years of autocracy are in store.”
Another election is due in 2026, most probably in April.
This time, the opposition is less divided, with most support going to the
centre-right Tirza party, running for the first time. Under its young and
charismatic leader, Péter Magyar, it has surged in the polls to what would – in
a more normal situation – be an election-winning lead.
For the first time in many years, there is a much
better-than-even chance that Orbán’s “illiberal democracy” will be replaced by
a more recognisable form of democracy.
Orbán’s trouble is that, unlike Maduro, he does not have the
guns – the bulk of the armed forces and
the police – on his side. Hungary’s electoral system is rigged, but it still
functions, and it would take an armed coup to keep Fidesz in power if they lost
an election.
Hungary’s fascist tendencies also suffer from the country’s
membership of the European Union. Already, most payments from the EU have been
frozen, costing – in its
most recent tranche – € 1.04 billion, bringing the total amount of foregone
money to more than €28 billion.
Europe’s wannabe fascists
In three of the world’s most crucial democracies – Britain,
France and Germany – far-right authoritarians are in an apparent ascendancy,
leading their centrist rivals.
In Britain, the lead by Nigel Farage’s Reform UK is fragile
and probably evanescent. Its weakness has been on show in Wales, where the
party thought it would win a by-election in the former Labour stronghold of
Caerphilly. The polls were right about Labour, which did very poorly. But
voters in this working-class constituency transferred their allegiance not to
Farage’s populists but to the Welsh nationalist Plaid Cymru, on 47.4%. Reform
got 36% and Labour, with 11%, was humiliated.
Labour, having triumphed in the 2024 general election with
412 of the 650 seats in the House of Commons, has unambiguously failed the
people who had such confidence in it. But Reform lacked the organisational
capacity – the ground game – to translate polling results into actual votes.
Since local government elections in May 2024, when they won
control 10 local authorities, stories of chaos
and occasional corruption have abounded: five in a single council in
Cornwall, including the party’s leader in the county.
Labour is in the doldrums. Keir Starmer’s uninspiring,
out-of-touch leadership may be in its terminal phase. But a new election is not
due until August 2029; and if a week is a long time in politics, four years is
even longer.
In Germany support for the insurgent quasi-fascist Alternative
für Deutschland is concentrated almost entirely in the former East Germany.
The most recent Bundestag election results show the stark
divide between east and west. AfD won a state election
– Thuringia, in 2024 – but remains in opposition because the other parties
refuse to join it in coalition. There has been a far-right resurgence in
Germany, and it is sensible to be concerned about it. But the fear that Germany
may once again fall into fascist rule is fanciful.
In its heartlands, democracy lives
Of all the nations we have looked at, only two – Venezuela
and Russia – have achieved a state of fascism in its full and final form. In
both cases, guns were the key: both Putin and Maduro have control of the armed
forces. Other leaders do not.
Unless ultimate force can be deployed to keep an unpopular
leadership in power, those leaders will eventually fall. Even distorted
electoral systems cannot protect them forever.
Nevertheless, authoritarian leaders can inflict enormous
damage during their years in power. Even if they face ultimate political
mortality, economies and societies can be wrecked, and recovery may take
decades, if recovery occurs at all.
The most significant lesson is that to achieve supremacy,
they must first win an election. That will happen only if more democratic
parties fail so dismally at their fundamental job of creating a just and decent
society that their people succumb to the loud and hollow promises of scoundrels
like Trump, Farage, Le Pen and Orbán. Wherever the quasi-fascist far right is
ascendant, it is because mainstream politics has failed.
Over almost half a century, the peoples of the western
democracies have seen their societies become ever more unequal, with the riches
of neoliberal economics and globalisation either going offshore or spiralling
upwards to the few who seem to control all the levers. Right now, the
indispensable task of democratic leaders is to reverse that trend. The cost of
not doing to is too big to countenance.
Western democracy is under more pressure than at any time since the 1930s and 1940s. Back then, getting rid of Hitler and Mussolini cost 40 million lives. It is a lesson humanity cannot afford to ignore.











