This article was first published in the RPRN’s Red Lines
Despite having researched and worried about the mainstreaming of far-right, reactionary politics for almost two decades, I did not expect the slide towards full-fledged fascism to happen so quickly.
For decades now, we have got used to reactionaries being more cautious in their counter-hegemonic project. From the 1980s onwards, what Aaron Winter and I have called ‘the reconstructed far right’ paid lip service to ‘democracy’ and moved away from biological racism which had become taboo. Instead, it turned to divisions based on cultures which had the same essentialising and racialising basis as traditional racism, but could be worded in liberal terms: it was not about race, we were told, but about religion, free speech, protecting women and girls, national security, antisemitism or the ‘legitimate grievance of the people’.
While it fooled much of the mainstream media and political elites, the liberal veneer was thin though and their core politics remained: the far right remained elitist and its worldview based on hierarchies of worth which centred whiteness, masculinity and wealth as natural leadership qualities under the thin veneer of liberal articulations. Crucially, their authoritarian tendencies were in full view, but increasingly absorbed by mainstream actors in the wake of the end of history and the need to find new enemies and threats.
At first sight, it seemed that the far right’s counter-hegemonic strategy had succeeded, as much of its discourse has been embraced by the mainstream. In France, the far right has even become less toxic and demonised than the left’s. And yet, labelling this a ‘success’ would be giving the far right far too much credit. Indeed, none of this would have been achieved if it had not been for the complacency and complicity of the mainstream elite.
The term ‘elite’ tends to be poorly received in political commentary these days, so it is worth pausing to explain what I mean by it and why we must centre it in our analysis. By ‘mainstream elite’, I do not refer to an organised conspiracy by a small group of nefarious people, but to those in a privileged position to shape the agenda and public discourse. In particular, I refer to politicians and the media, but also academics and cultural and intellectual personalities, as all participate in mediating how we understand the world. This mediation process is necessary if we are to live in communities larger than small villages, but with this necessity comes great power for those with access to shaping it. How this power is distributed should be of central concern to any democracy worthy of the name, as this is what will then shape the discussions people will have about their past, present and future.
And yet, this, rather than the far right’s own cunning plans, has been the main point of failure in preventing the resurgence of fascism. We can trace the origins of the failure to the very first days of contemporary forms of democracy and the development of politics aimed at curtailing the power of the people. We can then see it again clearly in the aftermath of the Second World War and the mythology created around good triumphing over evil, as if the two had not been enmeshed all along. As if all of a sudden the forces that led to Nazism were purged from the world once Hitler had killed himself. This led to fascism, but also increasingly racism and patriarchy and other forms of systemic oppression, to be relegated to this mythical past as liberalism ‘triumphed’ over all alternatives through the twentieth century. We were taught to suspend disbelief, as even a quick look at really existing liberalism would paint a different picture.
Mainstream anti-fascism thus became increasingly performative and limited to opposition to the individualised, extreme and mimetic forms, as the ideology itself had died with Hitler and saying ‘Never again’ was enough for the world to move on. This approach clearly failed to engage with the complexity of the ideology and how the boundaries between really existing liberalism and fascism were not as watertight as the post-war fantasy suggests. This has meant that many of those who claimed to be opposed to fascism were also those who let it in under its new form.
As the liberal hegemony faltered under the weight of the crises it had itself fuelled, the resurgent reconstructed far right proved a godsend. For the mainstream elite, it was an opportunity to re-legitimise itself as the lesser of two evils, shamelessly tapping into the mythologies of the Second World War. The turn of the century witnessed mainstream politicians hype the far right and use it as a scarecrow, while they positioned themselves as the bulwark: vote for us to save democracy! This proved incredibly successful at first with ‘cordon sanitaires’ succeeding in defeating less than popular far-right alternatives, but most importantly diverting attention away from the growing discontent of the population towards the liberal hegemony.
Yet as crises remained unaddressed and things worsened, the far right found itself increasingly legitimised and mainstreamed. As the mainstream elite allowed it to set the agenda, and as public discourse focused increasingly on its pet issues, it became harder to paint it as the reviled fascist alternative. Instead, we witnessed an increased euphemisation in the naming of these politics.
We also witnessed a widespread denial in elite circles, which blamed everyone but themselves. We were told that most at fault in this situation were not those who had the most power to shape politics and policy, but various constructions of ‘the people’. On the one hand, the reactionary construction of ‘the people’, was blamed for their innately reactionary tendencies: ‘their legitimate grievances’ forced the hands of the elite to turn reactionary themselves. On the other hand, ‘the people’ were blamed for not supporting ‘sensible’, grown-up’ managerial politics and putting their blind trust in those who deserve to rule.
This led to the mainstreaming of a number of deeply unhelpful hypes to deflect attention from the powerful. Whether it is polarisation, populism or illiberalism, the solution for the mainstream elite is often to be found in the “warm”, “reasonable” centre. Rather than taking a principled stand against fascism, opposition has become increasingly performative as the governments and institutions supposed to act as a bulwark have implemented ever more authoritarian measures and crackdowns.
As expected, cracks in the hegemony soon became crevices which soon became gaping holes, and the fantasy has now crumbled. The liberal fantasy had been sold to us as a bulwark against fascism. In fact, really existing liberalism has not only failed to counter the resurgence of fascism, but has in fact been fuelling it all along.
For some in elite circles, the failure of the status quo in countering the fascist resurgence has been a rude awakening. Involvement in fantasy-building on the part of the elite has never needed to be fully conscious and it is clear that many believed that faith in a liberal-democratic ideal was indeed the way forward to fend off fascism (even if it was based on ignoring the effects of really existing liberalism). Shaking off deeply internalised political fantasies which are the basis of current hierarchies and power structures is not easy, particularly when changing course would mean losing out, should power be more fairly distributed.
As such, those elites seriously concerned with the rise of the far right have a clear, but somewhat difficult choice to make: do they want the comfort of the status quo or the discomforting nature of fighting a system they are not only part of, but benefiting from?
This is why any serious introspection must engage with and tackle the systemic nature of reaction and the very clear and simple fact that the roots of the issue are to be found in the liberal hegemony rather than an external attack against it. For too long, the threat of the far right and reactionary politics has been externalised and exceptionalised. It is time to accept that the far right doesn’t need to be in power to have far-right politics implemented, and that the current system can indeed accommodate the far right if its survival is threatened by other crises.
One of the reasons why people often prefer debating (“dining across the divide“) with the far right, rather than the left, is that the former makes them feel good about themselves by comparison and contradistinction. Debates with/amongst the left bring up uncomfortable reflections about our participation in systems of oppression.
This is why we often hear left-wing voices being dismissed as being overly antagonistic and divisive: ‘the left cannot get along’. This, I would argue, is a convenient simplification that seeks to reassure those unwilling to engage in critical discussions about power and about their position in power structures. If our conversations and debates start from a position that is unwilling to accept the systemic nature of various forms of oppression (and our role in them) then justice is impossible. Consequently, fascism remains a possibility to protect these structures should they be threatened.
As we see many mainstream elite voices rightly raising significant concerns about the resurgence of fascism, the question to them is clear: will that translate into working with critical voices on the left, or are they still pretending that a return to the ‘normal’ that led us here in the first place is the only horizon? In the current context, as the strength of the far right grows, their authoritarian grip strengthens and their actions are emboldened, fence-sitting will become more appealing and yet ever more damaging.
Change requires real introspection and a will to confront not only one’s role in structures of oppression but also that of those around us who choose to continue participating both actively and passively in these structures of oppression. This can only be addressed through frank and critical conversations amongst those willing to fight the far right and against the status quo, for radical change. Those with public-facing roles can either engage with critical voices – even those who disagree with them – or they can shut them down when they feel uncomfortable. The latter option being so common is partly why we are where we are.
I have no doubt that we are far more in number than the fascists and far right and that our politics are far more popular. Yet this is not what one would think by looking at how our public discourse is organised. This is why we must pay attention to those best able to set the agenda, and whose politics are being hyped, legitimised, and mainstreamed. Media coverage and mainstream parties’ reactions show what we’re up against in terms of public discourse. While we have little choice but to engage with these platforms (if we even can), if only to create space for more radical conversation, we must remain aware that our aims are not aligned.
Change will and must come from below, but those of us who have access to public discourse must play our part, even if that means bringing about change that threatens our very position in hierarchies of oppression. The choice is there and this is where we must draw our red lines.
No, we do not have to hand it to the far right. No, we do not have to take their grievances as legitimate. No, we do not have to debate or attempt to reconcile with reactionaries as this only legitimises them. Crucially, this legitimisation dismisses the very real harm their politics are doing to communities and the emancipatory potential of democracy more widely. No, we should not accept standing with reactionaries on certain issues, while we know their position on others is diametrically opposed – one should not indulge racism to fight patriarchy or Islamophobia to fight antisemitism and vice-versa. No, we should not worship idols or take critique personally: this is not about individuals, it is about politics.
There can be no compromising in the fight against the far right, reaction or fascism. We must take an unconditional stance against interlocking structures of oppression and understand the threat in a radically intersectional manner. An injury to one is an injury to all.