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They
Saw It Coming: The 19th-Century Libertarian Critique of Fascism
by
Roderick T. Long
by Roderick T. Long
To
speak of a 19th-century libertarian critique of fascism might seem
anachronistic, since fascism is generally understood as a 20th-century
phenomenon. But it did not spring from nothing, and the libertarians
of the 19th century saw it in the making.
Fascism differs
from its close cousins, Communism and aristocratic conservatism,
in several important ways. Let’s begin with its difference from
Communism. First, where Communism seeks to substitute the
state for private ownership, fascism seeks to incorporate
or co-opt private ownership into the state apparatus through
public-private partnership. Thus
fascism tends to be more tempting than Communism to wealthy interests
who may see it as a way to insulate their economic power from competition
through forced cartelization and other corporatist stratagems. Second,
where Communist ideology tends to be cosmopolitan and internationalist,
fascist ideology tends to be chauvinistically nationalist, stressing
a particularist allegiance to one’s country, culture, or ethnicity;
along with this goes a suspicion of rationalism, a preference for
economic autarky, and a view of life as one of inevitable but glorious
struggle. Fascism also tends to cultivate a “folksy” or völkisch
“man of the people,” “pragmatism over principles,” “heart over head,”
“pay no attention to those pointy-headed intellectuals” rhetorical
style.
These contrasts
with Communism should not be overstated, of course. Communist governments
cannot afford to suppress private ownership entirely, since
doing so leads swiftly
to economic collapse. Moreover, however internationalist and
cosmopolitan Communist regimes may be in theory, they tend to be
just as chauvinistically nationalist in practice as their fascist
cousins; while on the other hand fascist regimes are sometimes perfectly
willing to pay lip service to liberal universalism. All the same,
there is a difference in emphasis and in strategy between fascism
and Communism here. When faced with existing institutions that threaten
the power of the state – be they corporations, churches, the family,
tradition – the Communist impulse is by and large to abolish
them, while the fascist impulse is by and large to absorb
them.
Power structures
external to the state are potential rivals to the state’s own power,
and so states always have some reason to seek their abolition; Communism
gives that tendency full rein. But power structures external to
the state are also potential allies of the state, particularly
if they serve to encourage habits of subordination and regimentation
in the populace, and so the potential always exists for a mutually
beneficial partnership; herein lies the fascist strategy.
The respects
in which fascism differs from Communism might seem to align it rather
more closely with the traditional aristocratic conservatism of the
ancien régime, which is likewise particularist, corporatist,
mercantilist, nationalist, militarist, patriarchal, and anti-rationalist.
But fascism differs from old-style conservatism in embracing an
ideal of industrial progress directed by managerial technocrats,
as well as in adopting a populist stance of championing the “little
guy” against elites – remember the folksiness. (If fascism’s technocratic
tendencies appear to conflict with its anti-rationalist tendencies,
well, in the words of proto-fascist Moeller van den Bruck, “we must
be strong enough to live in contradictions.”)
Some of the
differences between fascism and the older conservatism may be due
to the advances won by their common foes, the liberals. The progress
of liberalism and of industry had the effect of shifting wealth,
at least in part, from the traditional aristocracy to new private
hands, thus creating new private interest groups with the ability
to operate as political entrepreneurs; hence, perhaps, the tendency
toward the emergence of a plutocratic class nominally outside the
traditional state apparatus. Likewise the progress of democracy
meant that plutocracy could hope to triumph only by donning populist
guise; hence the paradox of an elitist movement marching forward
under the banner of anti-elitism – a prime example in U. S. history
being antitrust laws and other allegedly anti-big-business legislation
being vigorously lobbied for by big business itself. (Cf. Murray
Rothbard’s “War Collectivism
in World War I,” Paul Weaver’s The
Suicidal Corporation: How Big Business Fails America, Gabriel
Kolko’s Railroads
and Regulation, 1877-1916 and Triumph
of Conservatism: A Reinterpretation of American History, 19001916,
Butler Shaffer’s In
Restraint of Trade: The Business Campaign Against Competition, 19181938,
Roy Childs’ “Big Business
and the Rise of American Statism,” Joseph Stromberg’s “Political
Economy of Liberal Corporatism” and “The
Role of State Monopoly Capitalism in the American Empire,” Walter
Grinder & John Hagel’s “Toward
a Theory of State Capitalism: Ultimate Decision-Making and Class
Structure,” etc.) Hence fascism’s odd fusion of privilege and
folksiness; one might call it a movement that thinks like Halliburton
and talks like George W. Bush.
The partnership
between the official state apparatus and the nominally private beneficiaries
of state power was a familiar theme for 19th-century libertarians
like Frédéric Bastiat and Gustave
de Molinari, who extended and radicalised Adam Smith’s critique
of mercantilist protectionism as a scheme for benefiting concentrated
business interests at the expense of the general public. In Molinari’s
words, businesses “asked the government to safeguard their monopolies
by the same methods that it had put into effect for protecting its
own.” (“The Evolution of Protectionism.”) Libertarian sociologists
like Charles Comte and Charles Dunoyer had developed an entire pre-Marxian
theory of class conflict, according to which the key to the position
of the ruling class is not, contra Marx, access to the means
of production, but rather access to political power. (Cf. David
Hart’s Radical
Liberalism of Charles Comte and Charles Dunoyer, Leonard
Liggio’s “Charles
Dunoyer and French Classical Liberalism,” Ralph Raico’s “Classical
Liberal Exploitation Theory,” Mark Weinburg’s “Social
Analysis of Three Early 19th-Century Classical Liberals,” etc.)
When Marx called the French government “a joint-stock company for
the exploitation of France’s national wealth” on behalf of the bourgeois
elite and at the expense of production and commerce (“Class
Struggles in France”), he was only echoing what libertarians
had been saying for decades.
Herbert Spencer
likewise complained of the influence of “railway autocrats” in American
politics, “overriding the rights of shareholders” and “dominating
over courts of justice and State governments.” (“The Americans.”)
And Lysander Spooner denounced the financial and banking elite,
writing as follows:
Among
savages, mere physical strength, on the part of one man, may enable
him to rob, enslave, or kill another man. … But with (so-called)
civilized peoples … by whom soldiers in any requisite number, and
other instrumentalities of war in any requisite amount, can always
be had for money, the question of war, and consequently the question
of power, is little else than a mere question of money. As
a necessary consequence, those who stand ready to furnish this money,
are the real rulers. … [The] nominal rulers, the emperors and kings
and parliaments, are anything but the real rulers of their respective
countries. They are little or nothing else than mere tools, employed
by the wealthy to rob, enslave, and (if need be) murder those who
have less wealth, or none at all. … [The] so-called sovereigns,
in these different governments, are simply the heads, or chiefs,
of different bands of robbers and murderers. And these heads or
chiefs are dependent upon the lenders of blood-money for the means
to carry on their robberies and murders. They could not sustain
themselves a moment but for the loans made to them by these blood-money
loan-mongers. … In addition to paying the interest on their bonds,
they perhaps grant to the holders of them great monopolies in banking,
like the Banks of England, of France, and of Vienna; with the agreement
that these banks shall furnish money whenever, in sudden emergencies,
it may be necessary to shoot down more of their people. Perhaps
also, by means of tariffs on competing imports, they give great
monopolies to certain branches of industry, in which these lenders
of blood-money are engaged. They also, by unequal taxation, exempt
wholly or partially the property of these loan-mongers, and throw
corresponding burdens upon those who are too poor and weak to resist.
(No Treason
VI.)
As this quotation
from Spooner shows, 19th-century libertarians also saw a connection
between plutocracy and militarism, and sharply criticised what today
would be called the military-industrial complex. Spencer, for example,
railed against the “military aid and state-conferred privileges” enjoyed
by the East India Company, which enabled it to commit “deeds of blood
and rapine” in India where “the police authorities league with wealthy
scamps” to “allow the machinery of the law to be used for purposes
of extortion.” Such abuses, Spencer noted, were “mainly due to the
carrying on of state-management, and with the help of state-funds
and state-force.” Had the military might of the British Empire not
been placed at the disposal of the Company’s directors, “their defenceless
state would have compelled them” to behave differently; they would
of necessity have “turned their attention wholly to the development
of commerce, and conducted themselves peaceably.” (Social
Statics, ch. 27.) Writing in the mid-1800s, Spencer complained
especially of the “grievous salt monopoly” – which would of course
become the chief catalyst for the Indian independence movement nearly
a century later.
But
who [Spencer wrote] are the gainers? The monopolists. … Into their
pockets, in the shape of salaries to civil and military officers,
dividends of profits, etc., has gone a large part of the enormous
revenue of the East India company. … The rich owners of colonial
property must have protection, as well as their brethren, the landowners
of England – the one their prohibitive duties, the other their corn
laws; and the resources of the poor, starved, overburdened people
must be still further drained, to augment the overflowing wealth
of their rulers. (“The
Proper Sphere of Government.”)
Thus plutocracy,
these libertarian writers thought, drives militarism. But they also
held that militarism drives plutocracy. Thus the American Spencerian
William Graham Sumner argued:
[M]ilitarism,
expansion and imperialism will all favor plutocracy. In the first
place, war and expansion will favor jobbery, both in the dependencies
and at home. In the second place, they will take away the attention
of the people from what the plutocrats are doing. In the third place,
they will cause large expenditures of the people’s money, the return
for which will not go into the treasury, but into the hands of a
few schemers. In the fourth place, they will call for a large public
debt and taxes, and these things especially tend to make men unequal,
because any social burdens bear more heavily on the weak than on
the strong, and so make the weak weaker and the strong stronger.
(“Conquest of
the United States by Spain.”)
While the influence
of private wealth on government was not exactly anything new, 19th-century
libertarians tended to think that it had been given a new impetus
by the rise of democracy and its inevitable accompaniment, interest-group
politics – what the French liberals called “ulcerous government.”
A number of libertarians argued that representative democracy leads
to a struggle for political influence among competing special-interest
groups, and unsurprisingly it is the wealthier and more concentrated
interests that tend to win out. Sumner, for example, maintained that
democracy, far from being, as is usually supposed, the archenemy of
plutocracy, is actually plutocracy’s crucial enabler:
The
methods and machinery of democratic, republican self-government
– caucuses, primaries, committees, and conventions – lend themselves
perhaps more easily than other political methods and machinery to
the uses of selfish cliques which seek political influence for interested
purposes. (Sumner, “Andrew Jackson”)
[On this topic
I highly recommend Scott Trask’s article “William
Graham Sumner: Against Democracy, Plutocracy, and Imperialism”
in the Fall 2004 issue of the Journal
of Libertarian Studies.]
But on this
point writers like Sumner were simply developing the implications
of James Madison’s remark in the Federalist that the extreme
mutability to which representative governments are liable is likely
to work to the benefit of a wealthy minority:
It
will be of little avail to the people, that the laws are made by
men of their own choice, if the laws be so voluminous that they
cannot be read, or so incoherent that they cannot
be understood; if they be repealed or revised before they are promulgated,
or undergo such incessant changes that no man, who knows what the
law is to-day, can guess what it will be to-morrow. … Another effect
of public instability is the unreasonable advantage it gives to
the sagacious, the enterprising, and the moneyed few over the industrious
and uniformed mass of the people. Every new regulation concerning
commerce or revenue, or in any way affecting the value of the different
species of property, presents a new harvest to those who watch the
change, and can trace its consequences; a harvest, reared not by
themselves, but by the toils and cares of the great body of their
fellow-citizens. This is a state of things in which it may be said
with some truth that laws are made for the FEW, not for the MANY.
(Federalist
62.)
And Madison in
his turn was drawing on the ancient Athenian argument that electoral
systems are actually oligarchic rather than democratic. (See my “The
Athenian Constitution: Government by Jury and Referendum.”)
While both
libertarians and Marxists complained of the power of wealthy elites,
they disagreed on the remedy, because they disagreed on the origin
of the problem. For the Marxists, plutocracy was a product of the
market; the ruling class emerged through commerce, and only subsequently
seized control of the state in order to consolidate its already
established hegemony. (Marx himself was ambivalent on this question,
but Engels solidified the orthodox Marxist position.) Hence for
the Marxists it was the market that needed to be suppressed; this
is the origin of the left-wing view that fascism is simply a manifestation
of free-market “capitalism.” For the libertarians, by contrast,
a ruling class depends for its power on the power of the state,
and so it is the latter that needs to be suppressed.
The libertarians
did not, however, make the mistake of supposing that state power
by itself was the sole problem. Since rulers are generally
outnumbered by those they rule, these thinkers saw that state power
itself cannot survive except through popular acceptance,
which the state lacks the power to compel. In Spencer’s words, “In
the case of a government representing a dominant class …. [t]he
very existence of a class monopolizing all power, is due to certain
sentiments in the commonalty.” (“The
Social Organism.”) Likewise Dunoyer writes:
The
first mistake, and to my mind the most serious, is not sufficiently
seeing difficulties where they are – not recognising them except
in governments. Since it is indeed there that the greatest obstacles
ordinarily make themselves felt, it is assumed that that is where
they exist, and that alone is where one endeavours to attack them.
… One is unwilling to see that nations are the material from which
governments are made; that it is from their bosom that governments
emerge …. (Industry and Morals.)
Or again as American
anarchist Edwin Walker pointedly asked: if statism were the cause
of all social evil, what on earth could be the cause of statism? (Communism
and Conscience.)
19th-century
libertarians, then, tended to be “radical” or “dialectical” thinkers
in Chris
Sciabarra’s sense; they viewed state power as part of an interlocking
system of mutually reinforcing social practices and structures,
and were intensely interested in the institutional and cultural
accompaniments of statism – accompaniments which both drew support
from and provided support to the power of the state.
It is in their
analysis of these accompaniments that we see them grappling with
the specifically fascist aspects of statist culture. Writers like
Dunoyer, Spencer, and Molinari saw a close connection between statism
and militarism because in their view the state originated in war;
tribes that succeeded in fending off invaders became increasingly
dependent on their warrior class, while tribes that failed to fend
off invaders become the subjects of the enemy tribe’s warrior class
– and in either the case the warrior class was thereby positioned
to become a ruling class. Dunoyer and Spencer also saw a reciprocal
relationship between statism and militarism on the one hand and
patriarchy on the other, since they regarded the rule of men over
women as the original class division from which all later ones grew.
They would thus not have been surprised to see fascist movements
glorifying military conquest on the one hand and the patriarchal
family on the other.
They would
also not have been surprised to notice that fascism takes its name
from the fasces, the Roman symbol of an axe in a bundle of
rods. (A
bundle of rods by itself indicated that an official had the power
to inflict corporal punishment; adding an axe to the bundle of rods
implied the power to inflict death as well.) Bastiat regarded the
prevailing reverence for ancient Rome as a pernicious cultural influence.
He wrote:
What
was [Roman] patriotism? Hatred of foreigners, the destruction of
all civilization, the stifling of all progress, the scourging of
the world with fire and sword, the chaining of women, children,
and old men to triumphal chariots – this was glory, this was virtue.
… The lesson has not been lost; and it is from Rome undoubtedly
that this adage comes to us … one nation’s loss is another nation’s
gain – an adage that still governs the world. To acquire an
idea of Roman morality, imagine in the heart of Paris an organization
of men who hate to work, determined to satisfy their wants by deceit
and force, and consequently at war with society. Doubtless a certain
moral code and even some solid virtues will soon manifest themselves
in such an organization. Courage, perseverance, self-control, prudence,
discipline, constancy in misfortune, deep secrecy, punctilio, devotion
to the community – such undoubtedly will be the virtues that necessity
and prevailing opinion would develop among these brigands; such
were those of the buccaneers; such were those of the Romans. It
may be said that, in regard to the latter, the grandeur of their
enterprise and the immensity of their success has thrown so glorious
a veil over their crimes as to transform them into virtues. And
this is precisely why that school is so pernicious. It is not abject
vice, it is vice crowned with splendor, that seduces men’s souls.
(“Academic
Degrees and Socialism.”)
Rome, incidentally,
was another culture in which plutocracy triumphed by adopting a democratic
guise.
Spencer was
convinced that Western culture in his day was entering a retrograde
phase, a phase he called “re-barbarization,”
in which the values of industrial society, the society of
voluntary cooperation and mutual benefit, were yielding once more
to the older values of militant society, of hierarchy, regimentation,
aggressive impulses, anti-intellectuality, and a zero-sum view of
human existence. Spencer saw evidence of re-barbarization not only
in official military policy but also in cultural developments, as
for example in the increasing militarization of the church, or the
recrudescence of what he called the “religion of enmity.” (Principles
of Sociology.) Spencer was distressed to observe that in “the
Church-services held on the occasion of the departure of troops
for South Africa [he was writing of the Boer War] …. certain hymns
are used in a manner which substitutes for the spiritual enemy the
human enemy. Thus for a generation past, under cover of the forms
of a religion which preaches peace, love, and forgiveness, there
has been a perpetual shouting of the words ‘war’ and ‘blood,’ ‘fire’
and ‘battle,’ and a continual exercise of the antagonistic feelings.”
(Facts and Comments,
ch. 25.)
Another cultural
development that Spencer identified as a symptom of re-barbarization
was the rise of professional sports. In Spencer’s words:
Naturally
along with … exaltation of brute force in its armed form … showing
how widely the trait of coerciveness, which is the essential element
in militancy, has pervaded the nation, there has gone a cultivation
of skilled physical force under the form of athleticism. The word
is quite modern, for the reason that a generation ago the facts
to be embraced under it were not sufficiently numerous and conspicuous
to call for it. In my early days “sports,” so called, were almost
exclusively represented by one weekly paper, Bell’s Life in London,
found I am told in the haunts of rowdies and in taverns of a low
class. Since then, the growth has been such that the acquirement
of skill in leading games has become an absorbing occupation. …
Meanwhile, to satisfy the demand journalism has been developing,
so that besides sundry daily and weekly papers devoted wholly to
sports, the ordinary daily and weekly papers give reports of “events”
in all localities, and not unfrequently a daily paper has a whole
page occupied with them. …. While bodily superiority is coming to
the front, mental superiority is retreating into the background.
… Thus various changes point back to those mediaeval days when courage
and bodily power were the sole qualifications of the ruling classes,
while such culture as existed was confined to priests and the inmates
of monasteries. (Facts
and Comments, ch. 25.)
I suspect Spencer
would not enjoy chanting “War Eagle!” in the Auburn stadium.
Such symptoms
of militarization and barbarization in the arena of culture proceeded
in tandem with analogous changes in government, including a shift
in power from civilian to military authority, and within the civilian
government from parliamentary to executive authority. In 1881 Spencer
referred to the measures then being taken in Germany
for
extending, directly and indirectly, the control over popular life.
On the one hand there are the laws under which, up to middle of
last year [i.e., 1880], 224 socialist societies have been
closed, 180 periodicals suppressed, 317 books, &c., forbidden ….
On the other hand may be named Prince Bismarck’s scheme for re-establishing
guilds (bodies which by their regulations coerce their members),
and his scheme of State-insurance …. In all which changes we see
progress towards … the replacing of civil organization by military
organization, towards the strengthening of restraints over the individual
and regulation of his life in greater detail. (Principles of
Sociology V. 17.)
And Spencer saw
England beginning to follow in Germany’s footsteps; he noted with
alarm “a manifest extension of the militant spirit and discipline
among the police, who, wearing helmet-shaped hats, beginning to carry
revolvers, and looking upon themselves as half soldiers, have come
to speak of the people as ‘civilians’,” and he objected to the “increasing
assimilation of the volunteer forces to the regular army, now going
to the extent of proposing to make them available abroad, so that
instead of defensive action for which they were created, they can
be used for offensive action.” (Ibid.)
A few years
later, on the other side of the Atlantic, Voltairine de Cleyre noted
analogous developments in America:
Our
fathers thought they had guarded against a standing army by providing
for the voluntary militia. In our day we have lived to see this
militia declared part of the regular military force of the United
States, and subject to the same demands as the regulars. Within
another generation we shall probably see its members in the regular
pay of the general government. (“Anarchism
and American Traditions.”)
At the time of
the Spanish-American War, Sumner was writing of the “Conquest
of the United States by Spain,” meaning that the United States,
while victorious over Spain on the battlefield, was succumbing ideologically
to the imperialist ideas that Spain had traditionally represented.
And E. L. Godkin, the editor of The Nation – at that time a
classical liberal periodical – wrote despairingly in 1900 of the “Eclipse
of Liberalism”:
Nationalism
in the sense of national greed [he wrote] has supplanted Liberalism.
…. By making the aggrandizement of a particular nation a higher
end than the welfare of mankind, it has sophisticated the moral
sense of Christendom. … We hear no more of natural rights, but of
inferior races, whose part it is to submit to the government of
those whom God has made their superiors. The old fallacy of divine
right has once more asserted its ruinous power, and before it is
again repudiated there must be international struggles on a terrific
scale. At home all criticism on the foreign policy of our rulers
is denounced as unpatriotic. They must not be changed, for the national
policy must be continuous. Abroad, the rulers of every country must
hasten to every scene of international plunder, that they may secure
their share. To succeed in these predatory expeditions the restraints
on parliamentary … government must be cast aside. (“The
Eclipse of Liberalism.”)
In short, the
19th-century libertarians observed the rise of the various tendencies
that would come together to make fascism – militarism, corporatism,
regimentation, nationalist chauvinism, plutocracy in populist guise,
the call for “strong leaders” and “national greatness,” the glorification
of conflict over commerce and of brute force over intellect – and
they bitterly opposed the whole package. And although they ultimately
lost that battle, their fallen banner is ours to pick up.
Let me give
Sumner the last word; he’s writing once again of the Spanish-American
War:
[T]he
reason why liberty, of which we Americans talk so much, is a good
thing is that it means leaving people to live out their own lives
in their own way, while we do the same. If we believe in liberty,
as an American principle, why do we not stand by it? Why are we
going to throw it away to enter upon a Spanish policy of dominion
and regulation? … [T]his scheme of a republic which our fathers
formed was a glorious dream which demands more than a word of respect
and affection before it passes away. … Their idea was that they
would never allow any of the social and political abuses of the
old world to grow up here. … There were to be no armies except a
militia, which would have no functions but those of police. They
would have no court and no pomp; no orders, or ribbons, or decorations,
or titles. They would have no public debt. … There was to be no
grand diplomacy, because they intended to mind their own business
and not be involved in any of the intrigues to which European statesmen
were accustomed. There was to be no balance of power and no “reason
of state” to cost the life and happiness of citizens. … Our fathers
would have an economical government, even if grand people called
it a parsimonious one, and taxes should be no greater than were
absolutely necessary to pay for such a government. The citizen was
to keep all the rest of his earnings and use them as he thought
best for the happiness of himself and his family; he was, above
all, to be insured peace and quiet while he pursued his honest industry
and obeyed the laws. No adventurous policies of conquest or ambition
… would ever be undertaken by a free democratic republic. Therefore
the citizen here would never be forced to leave his family or to
give his sons to shed blood for glory and to leave widows and orphans
in misery for nothing. … It is by virtue of these ideals that we
have been “isolated,” isolated in a position which the other nations
of the earth have observed in silent envy; and yet there are people
who are boasting of their patriotism, because they say that we have
taken our place now amongst the nations of the earth by virtue of
this war. (“Conquest
of the United States by Spain.”)
This
speech was delivered at the Mises
Institute’s conference on The
Economics of Fascism.
November
2, 2005
Roderick
T. Long [send him mail]
is Associate Professor of Philosophy at Auburn
University; Editor of the Journal
of Libertarian Studies; President of the Molinari
Institute; Senior Scholar of the Ludwig
von Mises Institute; and author of Reason
and Value: Aristotle versus Rand. He received his Ph.D. from
Cornell in 1992, and maintains the website Praxeology.net,
as well as the web journal Austro-Athenian
Empire.
Copyright
© 2005 Ludwig
von Mises Institute
Roderick
T. Long Archives
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