Tag: fascism

Letter to History Extra Magazine

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Re: “Are There Still Fascists in the 21st Century?”

To the Editors,

Your recent panel discussion on contemporary fascism highlights an urgent historical and political issue. However, your approach—using a typical taxonomy of debating definitions, checklists, and stylistic “markers”—only obscures the phenomenon you intend to clarify.

This approach is not just insufficient; it reflects a specific ideology. By viewing fascism as a standalone political style disconnected from the class relations that create it, the panel replicates a key flaw of post-war bourgeois historiography. Fascism is treated like a museum specimen, recognized by its appearance, rather than as a tool shaped by the ruling class during times of capitalist crisis.

Leon Trotsky, in 1931, emphasized that any thorough analysis must begin “in a scientific and Marxian manner.” This approach involves focusing not on morphology but on the relationships among the three key classes: the bourgeoisie, the petty bourgeoisie, and the proletariat. Trotsky defined fascism as the mobilization of the devastated petty bourgeoisie by finance capital, using it as a weapon against workers’ organizations. He regarded fascism as a consequence of capitalist crises, rather than a particular political style.

Your panel’s approach isolates fascism from its social roots. It considers it an aesthetic, a rhetorical style, or a collection of behaviours. This isn’t a neutral academic stance. Rather, it serves the ideological purpose of historiography: to remove fascism from its political context and link it to the capitalist system that produces it.

Contemporary fascistic politics can’t be fully understood through 1930s frameworks. As various analyses indicate, today’s far-right groups are not grassroots mass movements but are instead shaped by top-down conspiracy, often originating within state institutions, security sectors, and oligarchic networks. The ruling elite has realized it can foster fascistic tendencies without relying on broad-based, spontaneous bourgeois mobilizations. The lack of large rallies doesn’t reduce the threat; rather, it transforms its manifestation.

Your discussion equally overlooks the role of the so-called “democratic” opposition. Recent history shows that the traditional bourgeois democratic parties have not protected democratic rights but have contributed to their decline. The bipartisan growth of state surveillance, militarized policing, emergency measures, and increased executive power reflects a consistent trajectory, not an anomaly. The move toward authoritarianism stems from the fundamental crisis of capitalism, rather than from the personal failings of specific leaders.

That’s why the question “Are there still fascists in the 21st century?” becomes pointless when asked as your panel does. Fascism isn’t about whether current movements look like Mussolini’s rallies or copy the NSDAP’s policies. Instead, it’s defined by its role: employing extra-parliamentary and authoritarian tactics to suppress the working class in contexts where capitalism can no longer sustain democratic systems.

The essential question — often avoided in discussions — is: What social forces are dismantling democratic institutions today, and what should the working class do to fight back? Trotsky’s insights were never purely academic; they served as a strategic call to action in the class struggle. Combating fascism cannot be achieved by backing one bourgeois faction against another. Instead, it demands the independent, international mobilization of the working class.

By framing fascism as just a definitional puzzle, your discussion unintentionally softens public perception of the real threat. This approach mirrors a traditional academic historiography tactic: it actually undermines the public’s understanding of the danger while seeming to analyse it. Fascism isn’t merely about classification; it’s fundamentally about class struggle.

Yours sincerely, Keith Livesey

A Historiographical Critique of Bye Bye Blackshirt: Popular Frontism, Political Function, and the Construction of Anti Fascist Memory

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This essay offers a historiographical analysis that ‘Bye Bye Blackshirt’, published by Bookmarks (the Socialist Workers Party’s imprint), is more than just a straightforward recounting of 1930s anti-fascism. It is a politically driven text that reflects the SWP’s current strategic priorities through its interpretive approach. Bye Bye Blackshirt is not an unbiased historical account; it functions as a tool for contemporary politics. The analysis situates the book within a broader tradition of Popular Frontist historiography and argues that its omissions are deliberate, intentionally serving the political objectives it seeks to promote.

Krantz’s Position Within the Historiography

Mark Krantz holds a unique position in British anti-fascist historiography. He is not an academic historian and does not follow the typical methodological approaches used in scholarly research on the CPGB, the Comintern, or interwar political culture. Instead, his work falls into the category of movement history: concise, accessible stories created within political groups to educate and mobilize members.

Krantz’s account of 1930s anti-fascism emphasises heroic street-level efforts, particularly highlighting Cable Street as a pivotal moment when working-class communities united to stop Mosley’s Blackshirts. This perspective reflects the SWP’s tradition of celebrating direct action and mass mobilisation. Yet this narrative overlooks a significant historiographical concern: the broader political circumstances that underpinned the mobilisation. ‘There is no question that the physical resistance to fascist provocation was correct and necessary. But the political framework within which it was organised was catastrophic.”

Krantz’s work does not examine the CPGB’s switch to the Popular Front line in 1935 or the strategic effects of linking working-class militancy with alliances with “progressive” bourgeois groups and the Labour Party. This results in a depoliticised heroism—action lacking strategy and militancy lacking context. The main historiographical oversight in Krantz’s work is the neglect of Popular Frontism as an analytical lens. Some Marxist academic historians have demonstrated that the CPGB’s anti-fascist efforts after 1935 were closely tied to its Popular Front stance; the Comintern’s Seventh Congress reoriented communist strategy across Europe; and anti-fascist mobilisation aimed to defend “democracy”—that is, the capitalist state—rather than promote socialist revolution.

Krantz’s narrative obscures the broader strategic context. The CPGB is presented as a militant, principled entity rather than a party following the Comintern line, which ultimately dampened its revolutionary potential. “The CPGB abandoned the fight for workers’ power in favor of defending ‘democracy against fascism’ — meaning the defence of British capitalism…” Krantz’s omission isn’t accidental; it is a deliberate choice essential for the political purpose of his book.

Krantz’s portrayal of Cable Street reflects a longstanding tradition of mythologised anti-fascist remembrance. Researchers like Stephen Ward have demonstrated that Cable Street has frequently been reinterpreted as a pivotal victory, even though Mosley’s movement was already waning, the state, rather than the crowd, ultimately halted the march, and the CPGB’s strategy was moving toward a patriotic defence of the nation.

Krantz presents a celebratory version of Cable Street, turning it into a myth that supports modern activism. Raphael Samuel called such constructs “theatres of memory”: political movements shaping emotionally compelling histories to meet current needs. The issue isn’t that Krantz praises Cable Street; it’s that he omits its political repercussions, such as the CPGB’s support for Churchill during WWII, opposition to strikes at the time, and turning anti-fascist militancy into backing for the 1945 Labour government and the British Empire. None of these aspects are reflected in Krantz’s version.

 The SWP’s Strategic Reproduction of Popular Frontism

Krantz’s historiography is not merely flawed; it serves a political purpose. The  SWP tells workers to oppose the fascists while remaining politically tethered to the parties that cultivate them.” Krantz’s book offers a historical rationale for this approach. By depicting 1930s anti-fascism as an example of wide, cross-class unity, he justifies SUTR’s alliances with Labour MPs, trade-union officials, and liberal NGOs. This reasoning mirrors that which influenced the Anti-Nazi League in the 1970s and Unite Against Fascism in the 2000s. Chris Marsden’s analysis reveals that these coalitions often linked workers to Labour governments pursuing austerity, setting the stage for far-right growth.

Krantz’s history serves a political purpose by legitimizing Popular Frontism and overlooking its strategic failures. From a historiographical perspective, Krantz’s work has notable methodological shortcomings: it lacks archival research, as it does not consult CPGB records, Comintern correspondence, or Home Office files. Additionally, it does not engage with secondary sources like Morgan, Thorpe, Linehan, Copsey, Renton, or Fishman. The narrative is teleological, emphasizing an inevitable move toward anti-fascist victory while ignoring the flawed aspects of the Popular Front strategy. Moreover, it is presentist, interpreting the past solely in light of current activist concerns. These limitations are not accidental but reflect intrinsic features of movement history as a genre.

The SWPs’ and Krantz’s historiography serves two main roles: first, it legitimises cross-class anti-fascist alliances by offering historical precedents; second, it obfuscates the role of the Popular Front, thereby politically disarming the working class. This dual purpose presents a methodological challenge because the book’s interpretive perspective is not impartial but rooted in a current political strategy.

The 1934–36 Conjuncture and the CPGB’s Popular Front Turn

The period from 1934 to 1936, covered by Bye Bye Blackshirt, marks a pivotal moment in the Communist Party of Great Britain’s political shift. After the 1935 Seventh Congress of the Comintern, the CPGB embraced the Popular Front strategy, described as “the subordination of the revolutionary struggle against capitalism to cross-class alliances with ‘progressive’ bourgeois forces.”

For academic historians, the key issue is the interpretive tension: The CPGB’s anti-fascist efforts were genuine and often courageous, but their strategy aimed at defending “democracy”—which they equated with the British capitalist state—rather than pushing for socialist revolution. This tension is usually overlooked in SWP historiography, which tends to portray anti-fascist mobilisation as straightforwardly political and without contradictions, ignoring its complex strategic context.

Patriotism, War, and the CPGB’s Political Trajectory

The CPGB’s anti-fascism was described as being ‘politically indistinguishable from British patriotism,’ culminating in its support for Churchill and opposition to strikes during WWII. This statement isn’t merely polemical; it reflects a historiographical view that regards Popular Frontism as primarily focused on national defence rather than class struggle.

The peak of anti-fascist activities in the 1930s was not socialism, but the 1945 Labour government, which supported the British Empire and suppressed colonial revolutions. This indicates that Popular Frontism tends to direct working-class militancy towards supporting the capitalist state.

The SWP’s Historical Falsification and the Reproduction of Popular Front Strategy

The clearest historiographical critique focuses on the SWP’s current politics. It suggests that the SWP’s admiration for 1930s anti-fascism is justified because the party maintains the same strategic stance today. “The SWP advises workers to oppose fascists while still aligning politically with parties that support them.” The analysis references Chris Marsden’s critique of SUTR, mentioning that SUTR regards Labour and the TUC as “progressive.” Historically, the Anti-Nazi League connected workers with Labour during IMF austerity, which helped create the political conditions that led to Thatcher’s electoral success.

For academic historians, the key point is methodological: the SWP’s historical narrative is shaped by its present‑day alliances, and this shaping produces systematic distortions.

Toward a Revolutionary Historiography of Anti‑Fascism

A truly Marxist history of the fight against Mosley would involve recognising the bravery of Jewish workers and socialist youth; situating that heroism within a political context that ultimately disarmed the working class; and highlighting Trotsky’s key insight that fascism arises from capitalism and cannot be defeated through cross-class alliances. The SWP cannot produce such a history because it would accuse its own political practice. The title — Bye Bye Blackshirt — reflects a celebratory street-level story that avoids addressing the structural roots of fascism.

Defeating fascism today involves distancing oneself from the Labour Party, trade unions, and other institutions that, according to the SWP’s book, are preserved by current efforts. For academic historians, it is important to show es how political groups create selective histories — and how these shape, distort, or obscure true understanding. It encourages a reevaluation of anti-fascist history that emphasises the political contexts shaping the creation of narratives.

Secondary Literature and Bibliography

1. Core Historiography on British Communism and Anti‑Fascism

  • Callaghan, John. Rajani Palme Dutt: A Study in British Stalinism. London: Lawrence & Wishart, 1993. A foundational study of CPGB ideology, essential for contextualising the Popular Front turn.
  • Morgan, Kevin. Bolshevism and the British Left: A Study in British Communism. Manchester University Press, 2006. Offers a detailed account of CPGB political culture and strategic shifts.
  • Thorpe, Andrew. The British Communist Party and Moscow, 1920–43. Manchester University Press, 2000. Crucial for understanding Comintern influence on CPGB strategy, including the 1935 Popular Front line.
  • Renton, David. Fascism, Anti‑Fascism and Britain in the 1940s. London: Routledge, 2000. A key text on British anti‑fascism, though Renton’s framing is often sympathetic to Popular Frontist interpretations.
  • Linehan, Thomas. East London for Mosley: The British Union of Fascists in East London and South‑West Essex, 1933–40. London: Frank Cass, 1996. Essential for understanding the social geography of fascist mobilisation.
  • Fishman, Nina. The British Communist Party and the Trade Unions, 1935–1945. Aldershot: Scolar Press, 1995. Important for the CPGB’s role in the labour movement during the Popular Front and wartime periods.

2. Cable Street and Anti‑Fascist Mobilisation

  • Glynn, Sean, and John Oxley. Cable Street: The Story of a Militant Anti‑Fascist Movement. London: National Council for Civil Liberties, 1976. A classic narrative account, often cited in celebratory histories.
  • Ward, Stephen. “The Battle of Cable Street: Myths and Realities.” History Today 36, no. 10 (1986): 10–16. A critical reassessment of the event’s mythology.
  • Copsey, Nigel. Anti‑Fascism in Britain. London: Routledge, 2000. A comprehensive survey of anti‑fascist traditions, including the CPGB’s role.

3. Popular Frontism: International Context

  • Broué, Pierre. The German Revolution, 1917–1923. Chicago: Haymarket, 2006. While chronologically earlier, Broué’s analysis of Comintern strategy is essential background.
  • Jackson, Gabriel. The Spanish Republic and the Civil War, 1931–1939. Princeton University Press, 1965. A standard scholarly account of the Popular Front’s contradictions in Spain.
  • Kedward, H.R. La Résistance en France. Oxford University Press, 1978. Useful for understanding the French Popular Front’s demobilisation of the 1936 strike wave.
  • Judt, Tony. Marxism and the French Left. Oxford University Press, 1986. A major work on Popular Front ideology and its political consequences.

4. Trotsky’s Theoretical Critique of the Popular Front

(These are primary sources but essential for the theoretical framing.)

  • Trotsky, Leon. Whither France? 1934–35. The key text for understanding the critique referenced in your document.
  • Trotsky, Leon. The Struggle Against Fascism in Germany. New York: Pathfinder Press, 1971. Contains Trotsky’s analysis of the Comintern’s oscillation between “social fascism” and Popular Frontism.
  • Trotsky, Leon. The Spanish Revolution (1931–39). New York: Pathfinder Press, 1973. Essential for the argument that Popular Frontism facilitated Franco’s victory.

5. Historiography of Labour, the TUC, and State Power

  • Pelling, Henry. The British Labour Movement, 1770–1920. London: Macmillan, 1963. A classic overview of Labour’s structural relationship to the state.
  • Saville, John. The Consolidation of the Capitalist State, 1920–1930. London: Pluto Press, 1994. A Marxist analysis of Labour’s role in stabilising British capitalism.
  • Cronin, James E. Labour and Society in Britain, 1918–1979. London: Batsford, 1984. Useful for contextualising Labour’s post‑war imperial role.

6. Historiography on the SWP, Anti‑Nazi League, and Contemporary Anti‑Fascism

  • Birchall, Ian. The Anti‑Nazi League: A Critical History. London: Socialist Workers Party, 2010. A sympathetic internal history; useful for understanding the SWP’s own narrative.
  • Renton, David. Never Again: Rock Against Racism and the Anti‑Nazi League 1976–1982. London: Routledge, 2018. A more scholarly treatment of the ANL’s political function.
  • Marsden, Chris. Various analyses on WSWS (World Socialist Web Site). These are essential for the critique, especially regarding SUTR and the SWP’s Popular Frontist strategy.

7. Theoretical and Methodological Works on Anti‑Fascist Memory

  • Samuel, Raphael. Theatres of Memory. London: Verso, 1994. A foundational text on how political movements construct usable pasts.
  • Hobsbawm, Eric. Politics for a Rational Left. London: Verso, 1989. Includes reflections on Popular Frontism and historical memory.
  • Anderson, Perry. Considerations on Western Marxism. London: Verso, 1976. Useful for situating Trotskyist historiography within broader Marxist debates.

Podcast Episode: Katja Hoyer’s Narrative: Nazi Files, Family Secrets, and the Liberal Falsificati

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Pip: A Trumpet of Sedition asks a question most history coverage sidesteps entirely: when we talk about fascism, are we actually talking about fascism, or have we quietly swapped it out for something more comfortable?

Mara: freerein61 has a piece this week that takes that question seriously, working through how liberal memory culture handles the history of Nazism — and what it systematically leaves out. Let's start with the argument about Katja Hoyer, Daniel Goldhagen, and what the Marxist tradition says both of them get wrong.

Katja Hoyer, Goldhagen, and the Class Question

Pip: The setup here is a Financial Times article by Katja Hoyer on newly digitised Nazi Party membership records. The surface reading is: here is an opportunity for Germans to confront difficult family histories. The argument in this post is that the surface reading is the problem.

Mara: The post frames it precisely. A Marxist critic quoted in the piece puts it this way: "reduces the greatest crimes in human history to a matter of individual family shame and personal conscience, while leaving untouched the class forces that made fascism possible and that are re-emerging today."

Pip: So the archive becomes a mirror rather than a document. The question shifts from what structural forces enabled fascism to whether your grandfather was a good person — and that shift is not innocent, it is doing ideological work.

Mara: The post draws a direct comparison to Daniel Goldhagen's Hitler's Willing Executioners, and the pairing is pointed. Goldhagen nationalises guilt — fascism as a German cultural pathology. Hoyer privatises it — fascism as a family secret. The post argues both moves share the same blind spot: class conflict disappears entirely from the explanation.

Pip: Goldhagen says Germans killed because they wanted to. Hoyer says look inward at your grandfather. Neither asks who funded Hitler or why the organisations representing millions of German workers collapsed without a fight in 1933.

Mara: That collapse is where the post spends real time. The SPD clung to bourgeois legality. The KPD, following Stalin's line, called the SPD social fascists and wrecked any prospect of a united front. Trade union leaders marched workers into Nazi May Day celebrations on May 1, 1933 — one day before SA and SS units raided their offices and seized their assets. The post quotes directly: "These organisations… capitulated passively to Hitler."

Pip: That sequence — the deliberate political disarming of the only force capable of stopping fascism — is exactly what neither Hoyer's genealogical introspection nor Goldhagen's national-character thesis can accommodate, because admitting it would mean asking class questions about 1933 and about today.

Mara: The post brings in Trotsky's definition as the counter-framework: "Fascism is a particular method of rallying and organising the petty bourgeoisie to serve finance capital." That reframes the whole problem — fascism as a product of capitalist crisis and political betrayal, not psychology or culture.

Pip: And the post closes by connecting this to the present. Germany is rearming. Historical revisionism is climbing. The individualised-guilt framework is politically useful precisely because, as the post puts it, one can feel personal shame about a grandfather while supporting the deployment of German troops — the class question is never posed.

Mara: Which is why the post argues the digitised Nazi files matter most not as a therapeutic resource but as a historical archive of fascism's class nature — and why the working class needs a framework that can actually explain what happened, rather than one that stops at the family tree.

Pip: The throughline is that how we explain fascism determines what we think can stop it. Psychology and genealogy leave the structural causes intact.

Mara: That's the stakes the post keeps returning to. The next time this territory comes up, it will be worth watching which questions get asked and which get quietly set aside.

Katja Hoyer’s Narrative: Nazi Files, Family Secrets, and the Liberal Falsification of History

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 The ideological function of genealogical introspection

Katja Hoyer’s recent article in the Financial Times on the digitised Nazi Party membership records appears as a compassionate call to confront difficult family histories. However, it is actually a strategic move aimed at shaping public awareness of history. This approach shifts the atrocities of fascism into a personal narrative of genealogy, shame, and individual reflection, while deliberately overlooking the broader class struggles, political betrayals, and capitalist factors that facilitated fascism.

As one Marxist critic recently noted, this genre “reduces the greatest crimes in human history to a matter of individual family shame and personal conscience, while leaving untouched the class forces that made fascism possible and that are re-emerging today.”¹ The digitised Nazi files become not a historical archive but a therapeutic mirror. This is not an innocent mistake. It is an ideological operation.

The displacement of history by family mythology

Hoyer’s approach relies on a straightforward but powerful shift: instead of asking, “What class forces enabled fascism?” the subject is prompted to ask, “Was my grandfather a Nazi?” This transforms the historical disaster into a personal story. Political issues become psychological concerns, and social problems are viewed through a personal lens.

This example illustrates modern attitudes toward remembering German history. As the WSWS highlighted during the controversy over the Wehrmacht exhibition, even important documentation of Nazi atrocities tends to be presented without linking it to the broader class struggles in Germany and Europe, as if there was no opposition to the Nazis’ rise and their military ambitions. Hoyer’s article exemplifies this issue on a smaller scale, creating a story in which the grandfather becomes the central figure of history, the family serves as a space for reflection, and the working class is entirely overlooked. This approach does not depict true history but promotes a liberal myth.

The erasure of the working class and its betrayal

Any thorough analysis of fascism must start with the betrayal of the German working class by the SPD, KPD, and trade unions in 1933. These groups represented millions of workers. Their surrender enabled Hitler’s rise to power. The SPD clung to bourgeois legality as the state fell apart. The KPD, following Stalin, called the SPD “social fascists,” undermining a united front. The trade unions encouraged workers to take part in Nazi May Day celebrations.

Hoyer’s narrative cannot admit this, as it would mean confronting the ongoing class interests that connect the capitalist systems of 1933, 1945, and today. Instead, she shifts focus to family history, asking whether ‘my grandfather was good or bad,’ rather than examining what political forces weakened the working class and facilitated fascism. This amounts to a form of historical falsification. 

Goldhagen in miniature: national character disguised as family psychology

At first glance, Katja Hoyer and Daniel Goldhagen seem to embody different facets of modern German memory culture. However, they may actually reflect two sides of the same ideological spectrum. Goldhagen’s tone is polemical, broad, and accusatory, while Hoyer adopts a therapeutic, intimate, and psychologically nuanced approach. Goldhagen criticises the German nation as a whole, whereas Hoyer focuses on examining the German family. Goldhagen discusses “eliminationist anti-Semitism,” whereas Hoyer explores “family myths” and the process of “reckoning.”

However, despite these stylistic variations, they serve a common ideological purpose: to depoliticise fascism, eliminate class conflict, and reframe the atrocities of the Third Reich as issues of psychology, culture, and personal identity. Both authors function within the same liberal perspective that downplays  “the greatest crimes in human history to a matter of individual family shame and personal conscience. Goldhagen nationalises guilt. Hoyer privatises guilt. Both protect capitalism.

Goldhagen: National character as historical explanation

Daniel Goldhagen’s Hitler’s Willing Executioners (1996) argued that the Holocaust was the product of a uniquely German, centuries‑old “eliminationist anti‑Semitism.” The book was a publishing sensation precisely because it offered a morally satisfying yet historically bankrupt explanation: Germans killed Jews because they wanted to.

Goldhagen’s thesis has three key flaws: it deletes class relations by ignoring the bourgeoisie, the working class, and capitalism; it reduces the Holocaust to a cultural issue; and it dismisses political struggle, especially neglecting figures like Marx, Engels, Bebel, and Liebknecht, thus turning history into nationalist rhetoric. Moreover, it overlooks the betrayal of the working class, as Goldhagen cannot explain the surrender of the SPD, KPD, and trade unions in 1933, or why the working class— the only group capable of resisting fascism—was politically disarmed. His thesis is a dead end because it views fascism as a moral failing rather than a class-based phenomenon.

Hoyer: The privatisation of guilt

Katja Hoyer’s “family secrets” narrative mirrors Goldhagen’s approach on a smaller scale. While Goldhagen criticises the entire nation, Hoyer focuses on the household. Goldhagen discusses “German culture,” whereas Hoyer examines “family mythology.” Goldhagen universalises guilt, but Hoyer personalises it. The core argument is similar: fascism is explained through psychology rather than politics, history is viewed through identity instead of class, and the working class is completely omitted. The question becomes ‘was my grandfather a good or bad person?’ rather than ‘what class forces and political betrayals made fascism possible?” Hoyer’s narrative is more than just incomplete; it is essential on ideological grounds. It guarantees that the digitised Nazi Party files serve for therapeutic self-reflection rather than for historical study. 

The shared erasure of the working class

Both Hoyer and Goldhagen consistently overlook a critical historical fact: fascism’s rise was facilitated by the betrayal of their own base by German working-class organisations. As the state disintegrated, the SPD maintained bourgeois legality, while the KPD, following Stalin’s directives, sabotaged the unity front. The Trade union leaders collaborated with the Nazi propaganda event on May 1, 1933. This orchestrated spectacle was intended to lull German trade unions into complacency just a day before their complete suppression on May 2, 1933, when SA, SS, and NSBO units raided union offices, detained leaders, and seized assets. All these organisations… passively capitulated to Hitler.”

Goldhagen cannot acknowledge this because it would weaken his claim about national pathology. Likewise, Hoyer cannot accept it as it would contradict her narrative of personal self-reflection. Consequently, both authors depict a version of history that omits class struggle, suggesting fascism emerges from cultural, identity, or family factors rather than from the crisis of capitalism.

Trotsky’s method: The Marxist demolition of both narratives

Leon Trotsky’s critique of fascism reveals flaws in Hoyer’s and Goldhagen’s perspectives. Trotsky argued that fascism is not merely a cultural issue but a tool used by a class: “Fascism is a particular method of rallying and organising the petty bourgeoisie to serve finance capital.”

This single sentence challenges the entire ideological foundation of Hoyer and Goldhagen. Trotsky’s perspective shows that Fascism stems from the capitalist crisis, not from national character. It is propelled by the political betrayal of workers rather than family myths. Additionally, Fascism is fundamentally a class issue, not a psychological one. Goldhagen’s argument falters because it ignores why the bourgeoisie supported Hitler. Similarly, Hoyer’s argument is incomplete because it overlooks why the working class was disarmed. Trotsky reestablishes the comprehensive social relations that both authors overlook.

The political function of Hoyer and Goldhagen

The ideological significance of both writers becomes evident when viewed in the context of modern German politics. Germany is rearming, the Bundeswehr is active internationally, and historical revisionism is on the rise. The political leaders openly discuss “normalising” Germany’s military strength. In this environment, Hoyer and Goldhagen serve crucial ideological functions: They shift fascism from a class-based issue to a psychological one, promote guilt without fostering political awareness, hide the role of German capitalism in funding Hitler, and prevent the working class from developing revolutionary insights. “One can feel personal shame about one’s grandfather while supporting the deployment of German troops. The class question is never posed.” Both writers use their political role to prevent past crimes from endangering current interests.

The political utility of individualised guilt

The German elite prefers to shift historical accountability onto individual and psychological levels. As the WSWS observed in their review of the 2011 “Hitler and the Germans” exhibition, the official narrative usually attributes blame to the German populace while hiding the role of German capitalism in the rise of Hitler.”

Hoyer’s article aligns well with this pattern. It prompts Germans to feel shame about their grandparents while ignoring the banks that funded Hitler, the companies that benefited from slave labour, and the state institutions that remained unchanged after 1945. This is why the “family secrets” genre is so politically effective: it fosters guilt without involving politics, memory without addressing class, and reckoning without calling for revolution.

The Marxist view contrasts with Hoyer’s liberal-psychological explanation, which holds that fascism emerges from capitalism in crisis. Its rise is due to the working class’s betrayal. Fascism’s crimes are best understood by examining its class roots, not genealogy or psychology. The digitised Nazi files are useful primarily for revealing fascism’s class nature.

The working class needs to reject the entire ideology of individual guilt. Fascism’s crimes were not caused by flawed personalities or national traits but stemmed from a social system—capitalism—driven into barbarism by crises and betrayal. The only force that can stop another descent into disaster is an organised, conscious working class, equipped with a revolutionary socialist agenda.

Notes

  1. Family Secrets and the Class Question: A Marxist Response to the “Nazi Grandfather” Phenomenon, p. 1.
  2. Ibid., p. 2.
  3. Ibid., p. 3.
  4. WSWS, “The Goldhagen Debate,” 1996.
  5. Leon Trotsky, The Struggle Against Fascism in Germany (New York: Pathfinder, 1971), 247.
  6. WSWS, “Hitler and the Germans Exhibition,” 2011.

The Limits of Journalistic “Infiltration”: Liberal Anti Fascism and the Political Disorientation of the Working Class

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The Guardian’s recent undercover investigation by Harry Shukman, which depicts his personal efforts to infiltrate far-right groups, highlights the political emptiness of the liberal middle class. The piece functions more as a performative act, portraying the journalist as a solitary guardian defending “democracy” against an external threat. However, this entire story is built on a fundamentally flawed premise. The far right is not an outsider threatening the mainstream; rather, it is a harmful outgrowth of the very mainstream itself.[1]

As the Socialist Equality Party (UK) stated during the 2024 anti-immigrant riots, the rise of fascist tendencies reflects the core struggles of imperialist politics and capitalist decline. Faced with worsening economic crises, intensifying geopolitical tensions, and growing opposition from the working class, the ruling class increasingly adopts nationalism, xenophobia, and authoritarian measures. These are not isolated incidents but intentional ideological strategies of a capitalist system in deepening crisis.

The Guardian’s framing—highlighting Shakman’s personal choice to “fight,” the perceived “encroachment” of the far right, and portraying the political centre as a steady democratic stronghold—only masks the true situation. This is a political myth, and a risky one.

The far right is incubated by the political mainstream, not external to it.

The core message of the SEP’s document is clear: “The far right does not ‘encroach’ on the mainstream; it is incubated by it.” This is not just a rhetorical device but a factual statement. For years, successive Labour and Conservative governments have created the conditions that allow fascist movements to flourish—through austerity, militarism, anti-immigrant scapegoating, and the systematic deterioration of working-class living standards.

Instead of changing this course, Starmer’s Labour government has actually worsened it. It came into power promising to “stop the boats,” deport “illegal” migrants, and uphold the fiscal constraints set by financial markets. Yvette Cooper’s summer police raids on immigrants were not a concession to the far right but a manifestation of their agenda executed from the top down. The fascists did not need to “encroach.” The state was already doing their work.

The liberal press: oscillating between exposure and legitimisation

The Guardian’s role here is fundamental, not accidental. It fluctuates between shocking exposés of the far right and sympathetic broadcasting of the ideas that support it. As noted, the Guardian gave lenient coverage to men imprisoned for setting fire to a hotel with 200 asylum seekers in Rotherham, portraying their “feelings of injustice” as deserving attention.

This isn’t hypocrisy; it’s class politics. The liberal media tries to keep its credibility with the middle class by condemning fascism, while also endorsing anti-immigrant narratives that support Labour and Conservative policies. Both roles benefit the ruling class by redirecting social anger away from capitalism and onto the most vulnerable.

The “infiltration” model: individualising fascism, obscuring capitalism

The undercover journalist method is not only inadequate but also creates political confusion. It portrays fascism as a matter of individual morality—focusing on “particularly nasty individuals,” secret Telegram channels, and covert networks—rather than understanding it as a social problem caused by the crisis of capitalism. It turns a political and social phenomenon rooted in the crisis of the capitalist system into a problem of especially malicious individuals.”

This individualisation aligns closely with the state’s law-and-order approach. Starmer’s response to the 2024 riots—featuring mass arrests, rapid courts, and a new national police force of 6,000—was praised by the liberal media as essential for maintaining “public order.” However, these repressive tactics are actually being set up to target the working class: striking workers, anti-war protesters, and anyone opposing capital’s influence.

The infiltration model, supported by NGOs like Hope Not Hate, suggests that police, courts, and security agencies are allies in combating fascism. However, this is a political trap. The capitalist state does not serve as a safeguard against fascism; instead, it functions as the tool through which the ruling class creates the circumstances for fascism to develop.

HOPE not hate exemplifies what Trotskyism recognises as the core political dead end of liberal anti-fascism. Despite its sincere self-description, it reveals an organisation whose class stance, political approach, and strategic outlook position it not as a remedy to the far-right threat but as a component of the structural issue.

HOPE not hate is not a grassroots group. It is a professional NGO, run by “researchers, educators, community activists and policy experts”—essentially, the upper-middle class. Its funding, charitable status, and strategic focus on “building skills and resilience across communities and civil society organisations” reflect the language of the non-profit sector rather than class activism. The working class doesn’t require middle-class experts to “build its resilience.” It needs an independent political party with a revolutionary socialist agenda.

The organisation’s mission centres on moral concepts such as “hope,” “hate,” “togetherness,” and “unity,” which deliberately conceal the class roots of both fascism and its opposition. Fascism is not merely a psychological flaw or a set of corrupt values. It is “a concentrated expression of imperialist politics and capitalist decay.” The ruling classes foster extreme nationalism and xenophobia to divert social tensions toward the right, support imperialist wars, and undermine the democratic and social rights of workers. An organisation that fails to identify capitalism as the root cause of the far-right threat cannot effectively lead the fight against it.

Defending the state that breeds fascism

HOPE not hate’s self-description reveals a strong commitment to “defend, champion and promote democracy and the rule of law; speaking out against anti-democratic and authoritarian forces and policies.” This statement signifies loyalty to the British capitalist state — the same state whose policies consistently foster conditions for far-right expansion.

This ongoing state, maintained through successive Labour and Conservative governments, has led to imperialist wars, decades of austerity, anti-immigrant nationalism, and the systematic erosion of the working class’s social standing. The far-right riots in Britain in August 2024 occurred less than a month after the Starmer Labour government assumed power on a platform of militarism, austerity, and promises to “stop the boats.” Home Secretary Yvette Cooper announced a “summer blitz” of police raids on immigrants just days before the violence broke out. The far right thrives on the toxic environment created by the very parties that shape public life.

An anti-fascism committed to defending the state apparatus is politically ineffective. It views fascism merely as an outside threat to a supposedly healthy democracy — a false belief that disarmed the German working class in the 1930s. The working class cannot overcome fascism by simply defending the bourgeois state; it must be ready to dismantle it and establish institutions of workers’ power.

The NGO trap: policing opposition into safe channels

HOPE not hate’s approach — “creating a platform for ordinary people to do the extraordinary,” “supporting the wider sector to have greater impact,” “effective collaboration and sharing of skills” — exemplifies how anti-fascism can shift from a political fight to a structured, grant-supported sector. The organisation channels public frustration over racism and the far right into activities compatible with the capitalist system: community workshops, educational programs, policy advocacy, and “alternative narratives.”

This is not a failure of execution but a function. Such NGOs are tasked with absorbing, containing, and neutralising the social opposition created by capitalism, preventing it from evolving into an independent political threat to the system. HOPE not hate’s researchers may infiltrate far-right groups. Still, the organisation will never advocate for the political mobilisation of the working class against the Labour Party, trade union bureaucracy, or the capitalist state, which are the primary enablers of the far right.

The Searchlight lineage

HOPE not hate originates from Searchlight magazine, a British anti-fascist publication known for its collaboration with intelligence and police agencies, and for its persistent criticism of the revolutionary left. Searchlight established the model of anti-fascism as an intelligence operation focused on the state, viewing fascists as a criminal-psychological issue for authorities to manage rather than a political force to be challenged by the organised working class. HOPE not hate has adapted this approach for the modern NGO landscape—more refined, emphasising community engagement, yet maintaining the same political stance: supporting the state, marginalising revolutionaries, and keeping the working class politically passive.

What genuine anti-fascism requires

The fight against the far right can’t rely solely on ‘togetherness and unity’ across classes. It demands independent political action by the working class—the vast majority—against capitalism. This involves politically breaking away from the Labour Party, whose anti-immigrant nationalism and austerity policies foster far-right growth. It also means establishing rank-and-file committees to challenge the trade union bureaucracy, which collaborates with the state and corporations to suppress class struggle. An international effort is necessary to oppose imperialist wars—such as leaving NATO, ending the Ukraine conflict, and opposing the Gaza genocide—since militarism and fascism are interconnected. The goal is to fight for a socialist program that unites British and immigrant workers against their exploiters, rather than supporting liberal ‘multiculturalism’ that preserves capitalist class relations.

HOPE not hate hinders all these efforts. Its “hope” is that capitalism can become fairer. However, the working class requires a different hope — the revolutionary overthrow of the system that generates fascism. The struggle against the far right is inherently linked to the fight against capitalism. Any effort to treat fascism as an external threat instead of a result of the capitalist system only weakens the working class.

Shukman’s personal bravery is unquestioned. However, his narrative serves a clear political purpose: it replaces the collective struggle of the working class with the actions of a courageous middle-class individual. It fosters illusions about the state, downplays Labour and union roles, and shifts the focus away from the root cause of the problem—the capitalist system itself.

The working class should reject this version of anti-fascism. Its role isn’t to cheer on journalistic infiltrations but to create its own struggle organisations, unite across nations, and fight for a socialist solution to the capitalist crisis that fuels fascism. Only through such a movement can the far right be truly defeated—not just exposed or infiltrated, but rooted out.

[1] A year of hate: what I learned when I went undercover with the far right-www.theguardian.com

The Liberal Media’s “Trump as Hitler” Narrative: A Political Diversion Aimed at Disarming the Working Class

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The American political system is showing signs of deep decay. The incident where Donald Trump circulated a post calling him “more dangerous than Hitler” is not just an isolated event but a reflection of the broader corruption affecting the entire capitalist system. The document emphasises that Trump’s authoritarian tendencies are fundamental, not accidental: as David North pointed out, Trump’s movement exhibits signs of fascism, with a distinct, troubling odour. Trump operates without regard for constitutional or legal constraints. These comments are serious assessments of a political trend that is emerging from the ongoing crisis of American capitalism.[1]

The Roman Circus on the South Lawn

Nothing highlights the brutality of the current administration more clearly than the grotesque cage match on the White House lawn—fighters fighting fiercely while Trump observed like a Roman emperor. Marketed cynically as part of the “semiquincentennial” of the Declaration of Independence, this event was a deliberate rejection of democratic values. It celebrated violence, hierarchy, and dominance—precisely the social relations the ruling class aims to enforce on the working class amidst preparations for increased repression domestically and war. This isn’t just Trump’s personal issue. It exemplifies a broader political culture among the ruling class that has exhausted all democratic means of managing social conflict. The shift to outright brutality indicates an oligarchy that can no longer govern through consent.

The Liberal Establishment’s Counterfeit Anti‑Fascism

However, the primary political threat isn’t just Trump’s theatrics. It stems from how the Democratic Party and its media allies are using the “Trump is worse than Hitler’ narrative as a weapon. As the document accurately notes, this portrayal “is not a genuine anti-fascist analysis.” Instead, it’s a strategic ideological tactic aimed at directing widespread opposition to Trump into the secure confines of a capitalist party that itself undermines democratic rights.

The Democrats’ reaction to the White House spectacle—a $330 celebrity concert with Jane Fonda, Julia Roberts, and Bette Midler—exposes the class basis of their politics. It exemplifies “the politics of affluent identity, not the mobilisation of the working class.” This approach is characterised by moral posturing, symbolic actions, and commodified dissent—in stark contrast to the mass, organised, internationalist movement needed to oppose fascism.

The liberal media’s comparisons to Hitler serve two main purposes. They first diminish the unique historical nature of fascism, turning it into a moralistic stereotype instead of recognising it as a specific outcome of capitalist crises. Second, these analogies turn the struggle against authoritarianism into a branding strategy for the Democratic Party, which aims to portray itself as the final defender of “democracy” even while backing mass surveillance, militarism, and social suppression.

The Historical Lessons the Democrats Seek to Bury

Referring to Hitler’s aims to obscure rather than clarify. The text stresses that “Fascism was not halted by liberals or by voting for the ‘lesser evil.’ It was halted—where it was—by the organised force of the working class, guided by a revolutionary Marxist plan.” This crucial historical fact is what the Democratic Party and its media outlets are eager to hide.

In Germany, the Social Democratic Party disarmed the working class politically, clearing the way for Hitler’s rise. Similarly, in Italy, the liberal bourgeoisie handed power to Mussolini to suppress the workers’ movement. In Spain, the Popular Front suppressed the revolution, allowing Franco to win. In all these instances, the liberal bourgeoisie was unable to oppose fascism because it feared the working class far more than it feared the fascists.

The current situation remains similar. Democrats’ main goal is not to combat authoritarianism but to stop the rise of a working-class movement that could challenge capitalism itself.

The Real Target of the Hitler Comparisons: The Working Class

Contemporary comparisons to Hitler are used to redirect genuine anger towards backing the Democratic Party and NATO’s growing militarism. The ruling elite aim to merge anti-Trump feelings with endorsement of imperialist conflicts, portraying them as parts of a unified “defence of democracy.” This is misleading. The working class has no stake in siding with any segment of the capitalist oligarchy, whether under MAGA nationalism or liberal humanitarianism.

“The working class must have its own party, program, and independent struggle.” This is essential. Combating fascism is inherently linked to opposing capitalism. It demands the formation of a revolutionary socialist movement connected to the global working class, informed by 20th-century lessons, and unwavering in its resistance to all aspects of the ruling elite.

Conclusion: The Path Forward

The threat of authoritarianism is real, but it cannot be tackled solely through the Democratic Party, mainstream media, or superficial liberal rituals. Instead, it requires a deliberate and organised global effort by the working class to oppose the capitalist system, which fosters fascism, war, and dictatorship. The goal is not to pick between different factions of the oligarchy but to create a political force strong enough to overthrow the oligarchic system entirely. This is the only way to achieve true democracy, social equality, and human liberation.

[1] Donald Trump proudly shares a post which says he is more dangerous than Hitler-www.dailystar.co.uk/news/latest-news/donald-trump-proudly-shares-post-37314895

The Washington Post’s Katja Hoyer and the Liberal Effort to Bury the Real Lessons of Weimar

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Katja Hoyer’s column in The Washington Post, warning that comparing Trump to Hitler is “bad politics,” is not just a neutral academic opinion. It is a deliberate political act by a main ideological tool of the American ruling class. The core message—calm down, stop panicking, trust the institutions—aims to serve a specific class interest: to lull the population into complacency during escalating political unrest and to steer mass opposition away from independent working-class political action.

The Post falsely presents itself as a strict guardian of historical accuracy. However, it is  “a central organ of the Democratic Party and the intelligence agencies,” whose role is to redirect public anger into the controlled space of the Democratic Party. The true purpose of the column isn’t to correct misconceptions about history but to pacify the public. The Post is telling its readers: “calm down, things aren’t that bad, stop making hysterical comparisons.” This isn’t scholarship; it’s political soothing.

I. Liberal Historical Revisionism as a Weapon of Class Rule

A desire for historical accuracy doesn’t drive the liberal establishment’s quick rejection of Weimar comparisons. For years, these same groups frequently used Hitler and fascism as references whenever it benefited their foreign policy aims. However, when such an analogy highlights the deep problems within American capitalism—specifically, by pointing to the corruption of the American ruling class rather than a foreign dictator—it is dismissed as “hysterical,” “irresponsible,” and a poor political strategy.

The question isn’t whether crude analogies exist; they do. However, the Post’s intervention aims to hide the true lessons of Weimar: the class struggles that led to fascism and the political betrayals that facilitated it. The liberal narrative claims that fascism arises from ‘institutional failure,’ ‘fragile democracy,’ or ‘eroding norms.’ This viewpoint is a middle-class fairy tale. In reality, fascism stems from a ruling class facing an insoluble capitalist crisis, which pushes them to authoritarian measures to protect their wealth and power.

The German edition of David North’s Where Is America Going? makes this point with clarity: Trump is not an invader of a healthy democracy but “the political embodiment of a degenerated, bestial ruling class that expresses the historical crisis of the capitalist system.” This is the truth the Post cannot allow to surface.

II. The Marxist Analysis: What Is and Is Not Fascism Today

As David North pointed out in a key interview on fascism and history, Trump’s movement “smells of fascism”—it has “that particular odour, or, I might say, stink”—but it isn’t yet a widespread fascist movement in the traditional sense. The petty-bourgeois mobs of 1933 are not present in the United States in a similar form.[1]

However, the lack of a perfect analogy does not imply that the danger is imaginary. Studying Weimar aims not for an exact comparison but to grasp the patterns of capitalist crises: the ruling class’s shift toward authoritarianism, the promotion of far-right groups, the intensification of nationalism, and the buildup to war.

These trends are clearly evident. The US faces rising international conflicts, its political systems are breaking down, and the ruling class depends more on the military, intelligence, and courts to stay in power. Meanwhile, the working class is shifting left, as North observed—exactly the kind of change that historically pushes the bourgeoisie toward fascist measures. The Post’s advice—“don’t panic”—is not about avoiding fear but about cautioning against rushing into action.

III. The Lesson Liberals Fear Most: The Betrayal of the Working Class

The key lesson from Weimar, which the liberal establishment desperately tries to conceal, is not about the weakness of democratic institutions but about how the working class was betrayed by its own organisations. “Hitler gained power not due to flaws in Weimar’s constitution, but because the Social Democratic Party and the Stalinist Communist Party failed to unite against fascism.”

The SPD defended the bourgeois state, suppressed workers’ uprisings, and collaborated with the military and police. During Stalin’s harmful “Third Period” policy, the KPD labelled the SPD as “social fascists,” equating them with the Nazis and splitting the working class at a crucial time. This serves as a lesson the Post refuses to learn, as it exposes the failure of the Democratic Party’s current approach. Today, the Democrats and their pseudo-left allies—such as DSA and Jacobin—urge the working class to submit to the Democratic Party, the CIA, and the national security forces in a “popular front” against Trump. This is not a tactic to defeat fascism; it is the very strategy that enabled fascism.

Trotsky’s writings from 1931–33—’ For a Workers’ United Front Against Fascism’ and ‘The United Front for Defence’—continue to serve as essential guides. Trotsky emphasised that workers should unite in action against fascist violence while remaining politically independent from reformist leaders. The Stalinist rejection of this approach led to disastrous consequences. Today’s refusal by the Democrats is equally perilous.

IV. The Political Function of “Don’t Panic” History

Hoyer’s column clearly plays an ideological role. It reassures readers that their concerns are exaggerated, claiming that institutions will stay stable. The Weimar comparison is dismissed as “bad politics.” It promotes trust in the courts, upcoming elections, and the Democratic Party. Most importantly, it recommends doing nothing.

This mirrors the Democrats’ real political strategy: a passive dependence on state institutions, legal tactics, and electoral processes, combined with strong opposition to any independent working-class mobilisation. The true ‘bad politics’ isn’t the historical analogy. Still, the systematic effort… to disarm the population, persuade them their eyes deceive them, and redirect legitimate fear and anger into the dead-end of the Democratic Party. The working class does not need reassurance. It needs revolutionary leadership.

V. The Real Lesson of Weimar: Independent Working‑Class Mobilisation

The United States faces a crisis not of “norms” or “institutions,” but of capitalism itself. The question posed by the title “Where is America Going? Fascism or Socialism” is genuine and not rhetorical. Its answer isn’t found within the Democratic Party, the courts, or the mythologised “guardrails” of American democracy. The sole force that can prevent the slide toward authoritarianism and conflict is the independent, international mobilisation of the working class, guided by a socialist program.

The Liberal Misuse of Weimar: A Historiographical Critique

Liberal scholarship on the Weimar Republic has long served as an ideological mirror reflecting the anxieties of the contemporary bourgeoisie. Unsurprisingly, during times of crisis, liberal historians tend to isolate Weimar not to shed light on the present but to obscure it. The latest wave of commentary—like Katja Hoyer’s column in The Washington Post—represents just the most recent phase in a longstanding historiographical effort: turning Weimar into a morality tale about “fragile democracy,” “institutional failure,” and the risks of “polarisation,” while actively ignoring the class struggles and political betrayals that paved the way for fascism.

This critique examines the dominant liberal interpretations of Weimar, their political function, and how they distort the historical record to serve the needs of the contemporary ruling class.

I. The Liberal Narrative: Weimar as a Parable of Institutional Fragility

The common liberal view of Weimar simplifies the republic’s fall to a series of institutional issues: a flawed constitution, too much presidential power, proportional representation, fragile parties, and a lack of a truly “democratic’ political culture. This explanation has been repeated so often that it has become the accepted orthodoxy. Its main points are: the Weimar Republic failed due to weak institutions; the German populace lacked a democratic spirit; and extremism from both ends contributed to its collapse. The takeaway is to protect the current liberal system at all costs.

This framework is politically convenient because it absolves the ruling class from responsibility for the capitalist crisis that led to fascism. It portrays Hitler’s rise as a technical failure rather than a result of class-driven resistance. Additionally, it enables modern liberals to see themselves as heroes defending “democracy” from irrational threats. However, this perspective is historically inaccurate.

II. The Suppression of Class: Liberal Historiography’s Foundational Evasion

The core fact of Weimar history is that fascism arose in response to a deep crisis in German capitalism. The ruling class, frightened by the revolutionary rise of the working class, used Hitler as a tool for counterrevolution. This is not just an interpretation; it is a documented fact.

Liberal scholars frequently overlook this reality. The crisis is depoliticised, viewed just as a vague “loss of faith in democracy,” a “breakdown of consensus,” or a “failure of moderation.” The class struggle is often neglected, portraying the working class as passive and the bourgeoisie as an abstract entity. Political parties such as the SPD and KPD are labelled as polarising forces rather than recognised as actors with defined class strategies.

 This deliberate avoidance aligns with current political priorities. To understand Weimar’s class dynamics, one must also recognise similar class struggles in today’s capitalism and see that the crisis of liberal democracy—marked by rising inequality, militarism, and authoritarianism—is rooted in the inherent contradictions of the capitalist system, not just polarisation. Liberal historiography, however, cannot acknowledge this, which prevents it from telling the full truth about Weimar.

III. The SPD and the KPD: Liberalism’s Most Dangerous Silence

The most politically provocative lesson of Weimar history is the part played by the Social Democratic Party (SPD) and the Stalinized Communist Party (KPD) in disarming the working class. “Hitler came to power not because Weimar’s constitution was flawed, but because the Social Democratic Party and the Stalinist Communist Party refused to unite against fascism.” This is the historical truth that liberal scholarship is most eager to conceal.

1. The SPD’s role

The SPD: defended the bourgeois state, suppressed revolutionary workers, collaborated with the military and police, and ultimately supported Hitler’s appointment. However, in liberal historiography, the SPD is portrayed as a tragic defender of democracy—an honourable but doomed force overwhelmed by irrational extremism. This portrayal is a gross misrepresentation.

2. The KPD’s role

The Stalin-era KPD’s labelling of the SPD as ‘social fascism’—equating it with the Nazis—was a harmful betrayal. Yet liberal historians rarely analyse this from a class perspective. Instead, they tend to see it as “extremism on both sides,” which maintains the misleading idea of equivalence that reinforces their broader narrative.

3. Why this silence matters

Acknowledging the SPD’s betrayal would reveal the failure of current liberal strategies, which urge the working class to submit to the Democratic Party, intelligence agencies, and the national security state in a “popular front” against the far right. Liberal historians try to prevent this comparison and, as a result, suppress the truth.

IV. The Myth of the “Strongman”: Liberalism’s Psychological Reductionism

A key feature of liberal Weimar scholarship is its focus on the psychology of authoritarian leaders. Hitler is portrayed as a charismatic demagogue who deceived a naive populace. The dictator’s personality overshadows the broader economic crisis of capitalism. This perspective has two main aims: it personalises fascism, framing it as a pathology in one individual; and it reassures liberals that authoritarianism can be overcome through “better leadership,” “civic education,” or “restoring norms.”

Contemporary liberal commentators often focus on Trump’s personality, rhetoric, and “authoritarian style,” while overlooking the social forces that support him. This psychological reductionism, similar to Weimar historiography, transforms into a political strategy: it depoliticises the crisis, personalises the threat, and sidesteps any challenge to the capitalist system.

V. The Weaponisation of Weimar: Liberalism’s Present‑Day Agenda

Liberal invocations of Weimar are not academic exercises. They serve a political function.

1. To defend the existing order

By depicting Weimar as a delicate experiment shattered by extremism, liberals portray the current capitalist system as the sole defence against authoritarianism. The underlying message is straightforward: any opposition to the system—particularly from the left—is considered a threat.

2. To delegitimise working-class struggle

Strikes, protests, and socialist movements are depicted as indicators of “polarisation” and “instability.” The working class is viewed as a threat to democracy rather than its supporter.

3. To justify alliances with the state and the right

Similarly, the SPD justified working with the military and police by claiming it was protecting democracy, while liberals now defend alliances with the CIA, FBI, and Pentagon as essential to curb the far right.

4. To suppress the real lessons of history

The core lesson of Weimar—that the working class needs to stay politically independent and struggle for socialism—is exactly what liberal historiography tries to erase.

VI. Toward a Marxist Historiography of Weimar

A Marxist analysis unveils what liberal scholarship often overlooks: the importance of class struggle, the capitalist crisis as the root of fascism, the roles of the SPD and KPD leaders in disarming workers, the need for an independent socialist movement, and the global nature of the crisis. This approach is not outdated; it is the only framework that truly comprehends the present. The working class requires revolutionary leadership, not reassurance. That is the essential lesson of Weimar. This forms the basis of a genuinely historical, political, and emancipatory understanding of the past.

[1] An interview with David North on fascism, Trump and the lessons of history-www.wsws.org/en/articles/2025/04/17/ttml-a17.html

Trump’s World Cup and the Liberal Falsification of 1936

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 “a low, dishonest decade”.

1939 ­English poet WH Auden

Brian Reade’s comparison of the 2026 World Cup to Hitler’s 1936 Olympics has triggered the usual hand-wringing in liberal circles. Despite its rhetorical flair, Reade’s argument—like all moralistic complaints from the declining Labour-aligned press—falls apart due to political evasions. The comparison with 1936 is not incorrect; what is flawed is the conclusion he draws from it.[1]

The United States, hosting the 2026 World Cup, is not just “controversial”; it embodies global imperialism through its illegal war against Iran, supporting the Gaza genocide, and conducting mass arrests and deportations of immigrant workers, unprecedented in recent American history. As has been reported, ICE agents will be present at every stadium. The Iranian team has been denied visas and faced what can only be seen as a veiled death threat from Trump. Meanwhile, the Congolese team has been targeted with a racist quarantine order that reflects the imperial disdain typical of the US-NATO war efforts.

Comparing these events to 1936 is more than an exaggeration; it’s an understatement. The Nazi regime used the Berlin Olympics to project an image of a peaceful, cultured Germany while secretly preparing for genocide. Likewise, the Trump administration exploits the World Cup to spread a message of “unity,” even as ICE functions as an anti-immigrant force similar to the Gestapo, and the Pentagon conducts widespread destruction in the Middle East. Yet, beyond these parallels, the comparison quickly falls apart—and it exposes the political shortcomings of Reade’s framework.

The Liberal Myth of 1936

Reade, like all liberal moralists, references 1936 as a moral story: Jesse Owens humbling Hitler, representing individual bravery overcoming bigotry, and suggesting that sport can “shame” authoritarian regimes. This narrative serves as the mythology of a ruling class eager to hide its own complicity.

The stark truth is that by 1936, the German working class was crushed. The Communist Party and Social Democrats had betrayed the proletariat, paving the way for Hitler’s rise. Western democracies, especially Britain and the United States, did not boycott Berlin; instead, they collaborated. The American Olympic Committee, led by fascist-sympathizer Avery Brundage, fiercely resisted any boycott efforts. Meanwhile, US companies like IBM and Ford gained significant profits through their association with the Nazi regime.

The lesson from 1936 is not that sport can be corrupted by bad governments, but that the capitalist elites worldwide will cooperate with fascism when it benefits their interests. Only the unified effort of the global working class could have prevented Hitler’s rise, and only such collective action can now prevent our slide into war and dictatorship.

The Liberal Illusion of Boycotts and Moral Appeals

Reade’s strategies—such as boycotts, moral condemnations, and appeals to FIFA or the “international community”—are typical of a political tendency that has detached itself from the working class. These approaches rely on the false belief that the capitalist state and its institutions can be coerced into ethical actions.

However, FIFA is not an impartial judge corrupted by Trump; rather, it functions as a tool of global capitalism. Its president, Gianni Infantino, awarded Trump the bizarre “FIFA Peace Prize.” The tournament’s design—opening match in Mexico City with the later rounds held in the United States—reflects the geography of imperial power.

What about the governments Reade suggests might “take a stand”? Starmer’s Labour largely supports US imperialist wars as a loyal junior partner. The Democratic Party managed the same deportation system and imperialist machinery before Trump came back into office. Appealing to these forces means aligning with those responsible for the disaster.

Sport as a Weapon of the Capitalist State

Reade’s framework embraces the nationalist idea that the key issue in modern sport is determining which nation is “fit” to host. However, every capitalist country employs sport as a means of nationalist mobilization. The 2012 London Olympics, the 2014 Sochi Games, and the 2018 World Cup in Russia—each was used to cloak social inequality and imperial ambitions with patriotic symbolism.

However, the nationalist story is beginning to weaken. During the Milan Winter Olympics, thousands demonstrated against Trump and ICE, booing Vice President Vance. US athletes openly expressed their disapproval of the regime. Freestyle skier Chris Lillis said he was “heartbroken” over ICE’s actions and emphasized that athletes represent a different America than the one involved in mass repression.

Even in the United States, the nationalist event is faltering. While 75% of Americans are aware that the US is hosting the World Cup, almost a third intend to support a different country. This significant statistic highlights the immigrant heritage and globalist sentiments of millions—sentiments that the ruling elite cannot eliminate.

The Working Class and the Real Lesson of 2026

Modern football was built by the working class, shaping its culture, passion, and worldwide popularity— all rooted in working-class life. Instead of a moral boycott by liberal columnists, the solution to the nationalist spectacle of the 2026 World Cup is promoting awareness among the political class. The 1936 Olympics happened after the German working class was politically defeated and betrayed by Stalinism and social democracy. Similarly, the 2026 World Cup unfolds at a time when the international working class has yet to develop the revolutionary leadership needed to stop the progression toward war and dictatorship.

The lesson is not that sport should be considered ‘pure” or “apolitical.” Throughout history, sport has always had political implications. The real lesson is that combating fascism, war, and authoritarianism cannot be delegated to FIFA, bourgeois governments, or the conscience of the ruling class. Instead, it must be done by the international working class.

[1]  Trump’s World Cup is like Hitler’s Olympics – we have a major lesson to learn’    http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/brian-reade-trumps-world-cup-37285848

A Literary Monument to Historical Evasion: Antonio Scurati’s M: Il figlio del secolo and the Cultural Rehabilitation of Italian Fascism

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Introduction: A Novel for a Reactionary Epoch

Antonio Scurati’s M: Il figlio del secolo (2018) has been celebrated by Italy’s cultural elite as a major achievement: winning the Premio Strega, becoming a publishing sensation, and inspiring a lavish Sky TV adaptation. Its success is closely linked to the political context of its release. The novel appeared in 2018, a year when the Five Star–Lega coalition brought far-right politics into government, and just four years before Giorgia Meloni’s Fratelli d’Italia—descendants of Mussolini’s movement—came to power.

The celebration of Scurati’s Mussolini novel isn’t just a cultural event; it reflects a broader ideological trend. It contributes to normalising, trivialising, and aesthetically sanitising fascism within bourgeois society. As Peter Schwarz noted during the centenary of the March on Rome, the anniversary was “not only of historical interest but of urgent political relevance. Just a week prior, his political successors had taken control of the Italian government.” The support for M by the Italian intellectuals should be understood within this framework.

The Novel’s Method: Biography as Historical Obfuscation

Scurati’s main idea—that Mussolini is the “son of the century’ and embodies the spirit of his time—exposes a key ideological flaw in the novel. The text rightly points out that this is a methodological mistake: “Fascism is explained not as a product of the crisis of capitalism… but rather as the expression of a historical Zeitgeist incarnated in a single personality.” This is more than just an artistic decision; it constitutes a political misrepresentation.

By focusing on Mussolini’s psychology, charisma, sexual appetites, and opportunism, Scurati echoes typical bourgeois historical narratives. The underlying issues, such as the crisis of Italian capitalism, betrayals by the PSI reformist leadership, the trade-union bureaucracy’s cowardice, and Stalinist sabotage of revolutionary potential, are overshadowed by the novelist’s obsession with the dictator’s personality.

Trotsky’s analysis, referenced in the document, begins with a different assumption: “When the ‘normal’ police and military forces of the bourgeois dictatorship… fail to uphold social stability, the fascist regime seizes power.” Fascism is not a result of a “century spirit,’ but a tool of the ruling class created by finance capital to oppose the revolutionary working class. Scurati’s biographical approach consistently conceals this reality.

The Disappearance of the Working Class

M’s most revealing aspect is how it systematically removes the working class’s presence. The Biennio Rosso—the period marked by factory occupations, workers’ councils, and a near-revolutionary upheaval in 1919–1920—acts only as a faint backdrop to Mussolini’s actions. As the document states: “The true tragedy of Italian fascism is not Mussolini’s charisma or monstrosity; it is that a significant revolutionary working-class movement was crushed for lack of a truly Marxist leadership.”

This is the history Scurati cannot disclose. His narrative, focused on the dictator as the central figure, makes it impossible. The working class appears as a faceless crowd, serving only as a backdrop for Mussolini’s actions. The revolutionary potential of the Italian proletariat—once a source of concern for the bourgeoisie and an inspiration for workers across Europe—is now reduced to mere atmospheric detail. This issue goes beyond literature and has political implications. Omitting the working class from the history of fascism becomes a necessary step toward its political rehabilitation.

Aestheticisation and the Seductions of Reaction

The novel’s use of documentary elements—such as archival excerpts, letters, and newspaper clippings—has been widely recognised as a mark of seriousness. However, this approach does not prevent fascism from being aestheticised; in fact, it sometimes promotes it. The document itself warns that “the line between critical representation and aesthetic complicity is thin,” and Scurati often crosses this boundary. By centring Mussolini in a sweeping narrative, the novel makes him inherently compelling. Readers are encouraged to view things from his perspective, follow his rise, and see the consolidation of fascist power as a compelling story arc. This reflects the long-standing danger in bourgeois portrayals of fascism: the tendency to turn political tragedy into a visual or artistic spectacle.

David Walsh’s critique of The March on Rome is relevant here too: the work “includes much intriguing imagery… but is confused and, in the end, quite wrong-headed.” Scurati compiles a comprehensive documentary record, but the framework—Mussolini as the “son of the century”—fails to create an accurate portrayal of fascism.

The Political Function of M: Fascism as Cultural Spectacle

The widespread popularity of M serves a clear ideological purpose in modern Italy. As was said before, the novel enables middle-class readers to explore fascism as a historical event, while those connected to fascism strengthen their political influence today. The core of the novel’s political significance lies in its transformation of fascism from a present threat into a literary relic. It allows intellectuals to feel morally superior without confronting the rise of the far right today. It aestheticises the bourgeoisie’s historical crimes, making them seem safe for consumption. Additionally, it conceals the class forces that gave rise to fascism and are behind its recent revival. This is no coincidence; it reflects the cultural shift parallel to the political reintegration of the far right.

Conclusion: What the Working Class Requires

The working class does not require another grand novel about Mussolini. Instead, it needs a scientific Marxist analysis of fascism as a particular form of bourgeois dominance, rooted in the capitalist crisis and only preventable through the autonomous political mobilisation of the working class. The document ends with justified sternness: “On that score, Scurati’s novel offers nothing.” This is the core judgment. M: Il figlio del secolo is not a valuable contribution to understanding fascism. Rather, it stands as a monument to the ideological evasions of today’s bourgeois intellectuals—a literary expression of the very crisis that is once again elevating the far right to power.

A Palace for the Oligarchy, a Porch for the Homeless: The Rutland Gate Mansion and the Rot of British Capitalism

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The scene on Rutland Gate—a homeless man sleeping outside a £210 million empty mansion—is not just eccentric London lore. It represents the entire social system: a society in which the wealth of the global elite is fiercely guarded. At the same time, the basic needs of millions of people are viewed as an unacceptable burden on the “market.”

The Guardian’s report on 2–8A Rutland Gate unintentionally reveals what the ruling class and its media often try to hide: the housing crisis is not simply a technical issue or the result of a lack of construction. Instead, it is a consequence of capitalism turning housing into a speculative asset for the world’s wealthiest.[1]

The article highlights the stark contrast: “a homeless man with no money sleeping on the doorstep of a £200m house with 45 rooms that has been empty for years.” This is not an anomaly; it reflects the system’s inherent logic.

The Mansion as Financial Instrument: London’s Role in the Global Oligarchy

Rutland Gate is more than just a residence; it’s a vault, a safety deposit box, and a tradable asset within the portfolios of billionaires whose wealth stems from corruption, exploitation, and financial speculation. The ownership lineage—comprising Saudi royalty, Lebanese oligarchs, and Chinese property magnates—resembles a who’s who of global capitalist misconduct. The mansion’s acquisition was carried out via shell companies in the British Virgin Islands, a common method for laundering money and avoiding scrutiny. As noted, “Often, companies in tax or secrecy havens are used as the vehicle for these investments.”

London is the epicentre of this global network, known as the Alpha City, attracting the ultra-wealthy who regard it as both a playground and a refuge. Every British government, whether Tory or Labour, actively courts their presence. Yet the city’s housing stock is not primarily for residents; instead, it serves mainly as a speculative asset for international elites.

The numbers are striking: 47,000 homes owned by foreigners in London, over 300,000 long-term empty homes across England, and 268,000 second homes taken out of residential use. In Kensington & Chelsea, one in nine homes is unoccupied. This isn’t a mistake but the deliberate result of a system in which societal needs are subordinated to the pursuit of profit.

The Human Being on the Porch: A Life Made Precarious by Capitalist Disintegration

The story of Anders Fernstedt, the man living on the porch, serves not just as a personal misfortune but also as a reflection of the systemic dismantling of social supports, the erosion of the welfare state, and the harshening of the working class.

Fernstedt’s experience—marked by unstable jobs, no-fault evictions, unsafe temporary housing, and rough sleeping—mirrors that of hundreds of thousands. His homelessness isn’t due to addiction or mental health problems; he insists he is “healthy… physically and mentally, with no addictions.”

His descent into homelessness was driven by the collapse of stable employment, the commodification of housing, the reduction of social services, and the violence and insecurity of Britain’s privatised rental market. His presence on the porch isn’t just symbolic—it’s diagnostic, exposing a society where the working class is pushed to the edge while the oligarchy enjoys luxury in empty mansions.

The Political Economy of Emptiness

The Guardian quotes a housing expert calling the situation “bizarre and perverse.” However, nothing about it is truly strange. It reflects a logical consequence of a system in which: housing is treated as a commodity rather than a right; the government prioritises capital over society; the wealthy are protected from scrutiny and taxes; local authorities lack sufficient funds and powers; and the market determines who has a home and who ends up homeless.

The article points out that “the places building the most housing have mysteriously managed to produce the highest level of vacancy.” This is not puzzling—developers tend to build what is profitable, not what is needed. Luxury towers are constructed because they serve as channels for global capital flows, not because Londoners need penthouses.

The ruling class claims that taxing or regulating the super-rich would “scare them away.” This argument has been repeatedly used to justify every form of social vandalism since the 1980s. It reflects an ideological stance of a political system entirely dominated by finance capital.

The State’s Role: Enabler, Not Regulator

The British government is not a neutral mediator; instead, it actively facilitates the accumulation of oligarchic wealth. It offers a legal system that maintains secrecy jurisdictions, a deregulated property market, police protection for elite enclaves, austerity measures that erode social housing, and political rhetoric that blames the poor for their poverty. The Levelling Up Act’s “empty homes premiums” are superficial solutions, as councils lack both the authority and funds to seize vacant properties. Meanwhile, billions of dollars’ worth of public land have been sold to private developers, who construct luxury flats that remain unoccupied. Overall, the government’s priorities are evident: safeguarding capital and penalizing low-income individuals.

A Social Order in Decay

The image of Rutland Gate is not just obscene; it is historically provocative. It brings to mind the final phases of collapsing social systems: aristocrats of the ancien régime, robber barons of the Gilded Age, and oligarchs of late Tsarist Russia. In each scenario, the ruling classes isolated themselves from the people’s hardships, retreating into luxury while society fell apart. This process led not to stability but to revolution.

The Socialist Perspective: Housing as a Social Right

The housing crisis cannot be addressed within a capitalist framework. Essential actions involve expropriating luxury properties left empty, abolishing offshore ownership arrangements, making substantial public investments in high-quality social housing, ensuring democratic control of urban planning by the working class, and reorganizing the economy along socialist lines focused on human needs.

Rutland Gate should not be a palace for billionaires. It should serve as a public asset, transformed into housing, community spaces, or social infrastructure. The resources are available, but what is missing is the political strength of the working class, organized independently from capitalist parties and advocating for a socialist agenda.

Conclusion: A System That Cannot Be Reformed

The Guardian article states the mansion will never become social housing, which is accurate—under capitalism. However, the stark inequality it illustrates is the key reason to challenge and overthrow the system that creates such disparities. The man on the porch and the mansion in the background are interconnected; they represent different facets of the same social structure. Addressing one without resolving the other is impossible.

[1] It was Britain’s most expensive house. Why is its only resident a homeless man who lives on the porch? Sam Wollaston-www theguardian.com