19 upvotes, 1 direct replies (showing 1)
View submission: Historical opposition to facism
In the aftermath of the Nazi rise to power, and their successful suppression of communists and socialists alike, it was clear that the KPD’s strategy had been flawed. Fascism, it was clear, could not be allowed to gain power and get the chance to turn the resources of the state towards suppressing its political enemies. This realisation led to a conception of anti-fascism not simply as opposition or resistance to fascist organisations, but as a unifying ideology. Communists around the world reversed their policies entirely: no longer were socialists and other leftists enemies to be condemned as ‘social fascist’ enemies, they were now vital allies in a united front against fascism. Efforts to build such anti-fascist alliances saw mixed success over the rest of the decade, as I discuss in this older post[1], but laid some of the groundwork for effective domestic and international resistance to further fascist expansion, both in specific contexts but also in building a wider political consensus that eventually saw an anti-fascist coalition ranging from communists to Churchill fight and win the Second World War.
What this means for your question is that, in my view of least, is that potentially successful anti-fascist ‘violence’ takes two forms, balancing the need to protect vulnerable communities from fascist violence and the need to avoid fascists being able to claim victimisation. The first is preventative – large scale mobilisations that deter fascist activism in the first place. If an anti-fascist counter-demonstration can mobilise a hundred times as many supporters as a fascist march, the march might be quietly cancelled, postponed or otherwise curtailed, and fascist claims to represent popular views are undermined. This is where the coalition-building aspects of anti-fascism become vital – the wider the spectrum of opposition you can mobilise, the harder it is for the fascists to paint opponents as extremists who themselves are the main threat to society.
The second type of anti-fascist ‘violence’ that can succeed is disruptive. Here, the goal is not to overwhelm or intimidate, but to create disproportionate difficulties for a fascist political performance while making it difficult to claim victimhood. Think a handful of activists standing up mid-speech and starting to sing songs or wave banners. Quite aside from any benefit that might accrue from disrupting a fascist message, such acts can also provoke a disproportionate response. Particularly as fascist movements often hide behind rhetoric of non-violence and free speech, this can be particularly effective in exposing the true nature of the movement. The BUF’s infamous Olympia Rally in 1934, which I alluded to in my Cable Street answer referenced above, is a good example of how this might work – a small number of disruptive protesters were successful both in ruining fascist pageantry, and in provoking a wildly disproportionate and violent response that shocked onlookers and dealt a huge blow to the BUF’s efforts to be seen as a legitimate, ‘normal’ political movement. You might also categorise more recent forms of activism (*cough* milkshaking) in this manner, though naturally contemporary events are off limits here…
Neither of these types of activism, you’ll note, boil down to ‘to save civilisation, we need to punch Nazis’. But neither are they entirely non-violent, and certainly would be characterised as violent by fascists themselves – who, as I hope is clear at this moment, cannot be taken as communicating or campaigning in good faith on these matters. Fascists in the 1930s, just as in more recent times, hid behind free speech, false accusations and framing opposition as illegitimate and the ‘real’ threat to civil society.
Comment by crrpit at 06/07/2019 at 13:39 UTC
14 upvotes, 0 direct replies
My usual disclaimer when discussing anti-fascism: a lot of this reflects my opinion, shaped in turn by watching and comparing contemporary events with the area I study. I don’t particularly believe in neutral, apolitical history in any context, but particularly in this one there’s no escaping it. There is a substantial scholarly literature on the subject if you’d prefer to read up yourself, for example:
Michael Seidman, *Transatlantic Antifascisms: From the Spanish Civil War to the end of World War II* (Cambridge, 2017).
Lisa Kirschenbaum, *International Communism and the Spanish Civil War* (Cambridge, 2015).
Tom Buchanan, ‘Anti-fascism and Democracy in the 1930s’, *European History Quarterly* 32:1 (2002), pp. 39–57.
Richard Evans, *The Coming of the Third Reich* (2003).
Tim Rees and Andrew Thorpe (eds.), *International Communism and the Communist International, 1919–43* (Manchester, 1998).
Richard Thurlow, *Fascism in Britain* (London, 1998) and ‘The Straw that Broke the Camel's Back: Public Order, Civil Liberties and the Battle of Cable Street’, *Jewish Culture and History* 1:2 (1998), pp. 74-94.
Nigel Copsey, *Anti-Fascism in Britain* (London, 2000).
Jon Lawrence, ‘Fascist violence and the politics of public order in inter‐war Britain: the Olympia debate revisited’, *Historical Research* 76:192 (2003), pp. 238-67.
Daniel Tilles, ‘Bullies or Victims? A Study of British Union of Fascists Violence’, *Totalitarian Movements and Political Religions* 7:3 (2006), pp. 327-46.
Tony Kushner and Nadia Valman (eds.), *Remembering Cable Street: Fascism and Anti-fascism in British Society* (London, 2000).