Who's a fascist? The label that fits everything

Fascism as a label: why everyone accuses everyone

In a discussion about the use of the term "fascist," a participant fires off a dismissive question that opens hostilities. The answer comes immediately: "Those who don't tolerate anyone thinking differently from them, using force. They're fascists. So yes. Antifa are fascists." The paradox is served: those who call themselves antifascists are given the very label they fight against. This is no isolated case; it is the symptom of a political vocabulary that has become elastic to the point of meaninglessness.

From Goebbels to the RAE: transposition as a weapon

The principle of transposition, one of the eleven that Joseph Goebbels formulated for Nancy propaganda, consists of attributing your own faults to your adversary. The exchange explicitly cites this mechanism: accusing the other of what you yourself do. The "fascist" label works both ways like this. One message illustrates it with a quote from Oriana Fallaci: "There are two kinds of fascists: fascists and antifascists." The quip, more provocative than analytical, sums up the confusion that has taken hold of political language.

The conversation states that the RAE (Spain's Royal Spanish Academy) lists "fascist" as a synonym for totalitarian, which contributes to the drift. To describe the extremes of both kinds there is the term "totalitarian," but it never quite catches on: it is less successful than the label reserved for the far right. The result is that the word has lost its descriptive power and has become a weapon to throw around.

Intolerance was not born with fascism

The historical objection appears early: "That was done long before fascism was invented." The reply is that back then it had another name. And another fact is added: the Cheka, the Soviet political police, existed before fascism. Intolerance of other people's ideas is not exclusive to a single movement; it has been the norm for much of history. That argument dismantles the sarracena exclusivity sometimes attributed to the term.

The problem is not only historical. In today's political practice, the label is applied to any adversary. One message quotes a tweet accusing a Podemos leader in A Coruña of justifying violence with lies, and calls him a "left-wing thug." The tone shows just how heated the debate has become. The discussion is not about defining fascism, but about discrediting the opponent.

Insult as a substitute for analysis

The most repeated conclusion is that there are too many names and too little precision. "What's this obsession with naming what have always been sons of bitches," one reads. "There are sons of bitches on the right, on the left, in America, in Asia, in Europe. We should start telling them apart by what they are." The quip, in all its crudeness, points to a reality: the ideological label replaces concrete judgment about behavior.

The discussion drifts toward using "reds" as a more precise term. "Because calling them reds would be too precise; nowadays precision in terms is hated," it says. The irony is bitter: the more an exact language is needed to describe political positions, the more people resort to inherited slogans. The result is an impoverishment of public debate.

The fact that throws everyone off

The conversation ends with a play on words: "Because the international socialists are far worse than the national socialists." The confusion between nearly identical terms reveals the heart of the matter: a political vocabulary that has become opaque. Meanwhile, the initial question remains unanswered. How many of those who use "fascist" as a weapon could define it precisely?