In the introduction to Liberal Fascism, Goldberg makes the point that a fascist type of governing got its start right here in the US.  He proposes that the Wilson was fascist in deed if not in word.  Goldberg describes the Wilsonian administration as having “the first modern propaganda ministry” and in Wilson’s America  “political prisoners by the thousands were harassed, beaten, spied upon, and thrown in jail simply for expressing private opinions; the national leader accused foreigners and immigrants of injecting treasonous ‘poison’ into the American bloodstream; newspapers and magazines were shut down for criticizing the government” and the list goes on.

I propose that Goldberg did not go far enough back in history to find his fascist example.  I suspect he might have purposefully done so because the Lincoln myth is so strong and Lincoln worship is so prevalent.  Wilson is a much easier target.

Regardless, Lincoln used many of the same tactics as Wilson on his fellow countrymen and so deserves the label just as well.  You won’t find these facts in your history books because they don’t fit with the accepted myth of Lincoln the Emancipator.  Lincoln also had opponents arrested and held indefinitely, he had a congressman deported because he spoke against Lincoln’s income tax, he sent the military into New York City to shut down newspapers and arrest their editors.  To curry political favor Lincoln ordered the largest mass execution in US history – 38 Sioux indians were hanged on his order.

The start of the highly centralized federal government that we are struggling against today had its birth in the Lincoln administration.  No single event in hour history stripped away the constraints on the federal government like the war between the states did.  Lincoln was at the helm of this consolidation of power in Washington.  For all of these reasons, Lincoln was the first fascist.

A day late and a dollar short on my installment.  I’ve resisted the temptation to read others’ posts on Liberal Fascism to be sure that this is entirely my own opinion.

I have not read Liberal Fascism before.  It has been on my list for a long time but I just haven’t gotten to it.  If I had known just how much I would enjoy reading it, I would have started sooner.  We were charged with reading the Introduction and Chapter 1.  I found the introduction much more interesting as it had a broader scope but still had some astounding facts – at least for me.

I consider myself a history buff of sorts but I tend to concentrate more on military history than political history.  In a few short pages I discovered how little I knew of the political history of fascism.  It was quite an eye-opener for me.

Contrary to what many may believe, Fascists did not rise to power in democratic governments by promising everyone war and violence.  In Germany and Italy they gained power on promises economic recovery, world peace, hope, and and free money.  Each had their boogeyman – for the Germans it was Jews.

Sound familiar?  It should.  The premise of Liberal Fascism is that there is a very good reason that fascist policies of the 1920s and 1930s are very similar to liberal/progressive policies of today.  The reason is that they come from the same roots.  The progressives of yesterday were admirers of fascism.  Most have forgotten that in the rush to hate everything fascist after the war.  But before war broke out fascists, and Mussolini especially were darlings of the left.

So how has the left gotten away with pinning fascist on conservatives?   How have they sown this idea that fascism is a movement of the right and not the left.  I think it is because of the war and because people naturally associate fascists with the military.  Most people in the US naturally associate conservatives with support for the military.  So it is easy for leftists to spread this lie among the ignorant.  It has worked well for them for a long time but I think it is wearing thin.  I am interested to see if Goldberg hits on this association later in his book.

#booknotes

This parable has been going around by email and I’ve received it a couple of times.  For those of you not in the loop, here it is.

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Dinner With Obama

Once upon a time, I was invited to the White House for a private dinner with the President. I am a respected businessman, with a factory that produces memory chips for computers and portable electronics. There was some talk that my industry was being scrutinized by the administration, but I paid it no mind. I live in a free country. There’s nothing that the government can do to me if I’ve broken no laws. My wealth was earned honestly, and an invitation to dinner with an American President is an honor.

I checked my coat, was greeted by the Chief of Staff, and joined the President in a yellow dining room. We sat across from each other at a table draped in white linen. The Great Seal was embossed on the china. Uniformed staff served our dinner. The meal was served, and I was startled when my waiter suddenly reached out, plucked a dinner roll off my plate, and began nibbling it as he walked back to the kitchen. “Sorry about that,” said the President. “Andrew is very hungry.”

“I don’t appreciate…” I began, but as I looked into the calm brown eyes across from me, I felt immediately guilty and petty. It was just a dinner roll. “Of course,” I concluded, and reached for my glass. Before I could, however, another waiter reached forward, took the glass away and swallowed the wine in a single gulp. “And his brother Eric is very thirsty.” said the President. I didn’t say anything. The President is testing my compassion, I thought. I will play along. I don’t want to seem unkind. My plate was whisked away before I had tasted a bite. “Eric’s children are also quite hungry.”

With a lurch, I crashed to the floor. My chair had been pulled out from under me. I stood, brushing myself off angrily, and watched as it was carried from the room. “And their grandmother can’t stand for long.” I excused myself, smiling outwardly, but inside feeling like a fool. Obviously I had been invited to the White House to be sport for some game. I reached for my coat, to find that it had been taken. I turned back to the President. “Their grandfather doesn’t like the cold.”

I wanted to shout- that was my coat! But again, I looked at the placid smiling face of my host and decided I was being a poor sport. I spread my hands helplessly and chuckled. Then I felt my hip pocket and realized my wallet was gone. I excused myself and walked to a phone on an elegant side table. I learned shortly that my credit cards had been maxed out, my bank accounts emptied, my retirement and equity portfolios had vanished, and my wife had been thrown out of our home. Apparently, the waiters and their families were moving in. The President hadn’t moved or spoken as I learned all this, but finally I lowered the phone into its cradle and turned to face him. “Andrew’s whole family has made bad financial decisions. They haven’t planned for retirement, and they need a house. They recently defaulted on a subprime mortgage. I told them they could have your home. They need it more than you do.” My hands were shaking. I felt faint. I stumbled back to the table and knelt on the floor. The President cheerfully cut his meat, ate his steak and drank his wine. I lowered my eyes and stared at the small grey circles on the tablecloth that were water drops.

“By the way,” He added, “I have just signed an Executive Order nationalizing your factories. I’m firing you as head of your business. I’ll be operating the firm now for the benefit of all mankind. There’s a whole bunch of Erics and Andrews out there and they can’t come to you for jobs groveling like beggars.”

I looked up. The President dropped his spoon into the empty ramekin which had been his creme brulee. He drained the last drops of his wine. As the table was cleared, he lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. He stared at me. I clung to the edge of the table as if were a ledge and I were a man hanging over an abyss. I thought of the years behind me, of the life I had lived. The life I had earned with a lifetime of work, risk and struggle. Why was I punished? How had I allowed it to be taken? What game had I played and lost? I looked across the table and noticed with some surprise that there was no game board between us. What had I done wrong? As if answering the unspoken thought, the President suddenly cocked his head, locked his empty eyes to mine, and bared a million teeth, chuckling wryly as he folded his hands. “You should have stopped me at the dinner roll,” he said.

Wake up America.

I’ve been posting under the name Thersites but couldn’t get the diary to work on that account.  So, I’m starting over as diakrioi.