FOR A THOMIST

FASCISM
Commentary on the Doctrine of Fascism by Benito
Mussolini

LOUIS LE CARPENTIER

Translated by F. D. FRANCO
𝕏: @sicilianuss
“This is what must above all be the concern
of the one who leads the human community:
to bring about unity.”
– Saint Thomas Aquinas, De Regno

“Fascism is not a tactic — violence — ;

it is an idea: unity.”
– José Antonio Primo de Rivera,
Textos de doctrina política
Preface – Abbé Thomas A.

Introduction

Chapter One: Fundamental Ideas (Giovanni Gentile)

1. Fascism as Philosophy
2. Spiritualist Conception
3. Positive Conception of Life as Struggle
4. Moral Conception
5. Religious Conception
6. Ethical and Realist Conception
7. Anti-Individualism and Liberty
8. Anti-Socialism and Corporatism
9. Democracy and Nation
10. Conception of the State
11. An Ethical State
12. Content of the State
13. Authority

Chapter Two: Political and Social Doctrine (Benito

Mussolini)
1. Against Pacifism: War and Life as Duty
2. Demographic Policy and Our “Neighbor”
3. Against Historical Materialism and the Class
Struggle
4. Against Democratic Ideologies
5. The Lies of Democracy
6. Against Liberal Doctrines
7. Fascism Does Not Look Back
 8. Value and Mission of the State
9. The Unity of the State and the Contradictions of
Capitalism
10. The Fascist State and Religion
11. Empire and Discipline

PREFACE

For a Thomist Fascism. A bold title, if ever there was one, but one
that has the merit, by being shocking, of attracting attention and,
hopefully, intelligence.

At a time when all speech and writing are sanitized by the dominant
thought, servant of Judaizing globalism, in a context where the
highest apparent authorities of the Church become slaves to this
uniformity deadly to faith and intelligence, at a time when even
religious traditionalist or “traditionalizing” movements abandon the
political sphere and cowardly and fearfully bow their heads before
legalism and legal positivism, this book could not be more timely.

Going against the omnipresent Anglo-American sirens, present for

nearly a century now in the European and political sphere, the
author does not hesitate to exhume texts despised by dominant
thought in order to analyze them through the lens of Saint Thomas
Aquinas, the Universal Doctor, of Aristotle, the Philosopher, or
again of authors who are perfectly orthodox and, at the same time,
Catholic and closer to us in time, such as Father Louis Lachance,
O.P., or Abbé Julio Meinvielle.

Certainly, Mussolini had his faults and his limits — there is no

doubt about that. But we must also consider that the realm of
politics has an inextricably contingent side that historical facts
cannot deny. It is when human passions and the sensitivities of
authorities clash that speculative analyses become more difficult
and sometimes less objective.

It is therefore a genuine introspection that one must undertake

before opening this study. For we must not forget that Pius XI,
authoritarian as he was, said of Mussolini after the signing of the
Lateran Accords that he was “the man of Providence.” This is no
small thing. It suffices, moreover, to look beyond human prejudices
and consider the economic, social, family, and political well-being
achieved in Italy before the Second World War. This political
achievement in Italy before the Second World War is owed not only
to one man, but also to a program. Better still: it is owed to a
doctrine, a political conception—fascism.

The present work delivers this political conception first by providing

the texts of its theorists and then by commenting on them. It is
enough for the attentive and persevering reader to understand that
Mussolini was not a Thomist in the sense of someone who today
would be described as having drawn directly from the writings of
Saint Thomas, but that the Duce nevertheless remained inspired by
the soundest principles, those of Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas,
from whom the best concepts are derived. Mussolini’s realism thus
drew from the foundations of Thomistic philosophy, concepts which
the reader will find scattered throughout and which the author has
rightly chosen to highlight.

An inevitable consequence of this political realism is that true

human dignity is restored to honor. Not the human dignity
promoted by modernists of every stripe. Rather, it concerns the
strong man of Italy, who brings dignity to its completion through
virtuous living. One could paraphrase Maurras in this way:
“The dignity of man” (Maurras here says liberty) “is not at the
beginning, but at the end. It is not at the root, but in the flowers and
fruits of human nature, or better yet, in the virtue of man. One is
more dignified (Maurras says freer) in proportion to how much
better one becomes.”
(From “Au Signe de Flore”)

Nova et vetera, said Our Lord:

“Every scribe who has become a disciple of the Kingdom of Heaven

is like a householder who brings out of his treasure what is new and
what is old.”
(Matthew 13:52)

Thus it is with politics, which, while maintaining sound principles

in accordance with the natural order, must also know how to adapt
to historical, geographical, and other circumstances in order to
preserve the identity of its nation.

May this book, published on the 90th anniversary of the Lateran

Accords (February 11, 1929), open the eyes of many Catholics and
motivate them toward political and practical effectiveness, so as to
make them forget the weak and cowardly generation of Catholics
who live in their spiritual selfishness—comfortable, yet Pharisaic.

Thomas A.
Priest
 INTRODUCTION

Our aim is certainly not to make Saint Thomas a fascist.

First, because that would be pure anachronism.
Secondly, because we have far too much respect for the Angelic
Doctor to make him say what he did not say; we leave such
distortions to specialists in intellectual deceit.

Nor is it our aim to make Benito Mussolini, nor even Giovanni

Gentile himself — the official philosopher of fascism and author of
the first part of The Doctrine of Fascism of Mussolini — fervent
Thomists. This too would be somewhat dishonest: neither the Duce
nor his philosopher had any specifically Thomist formation, and it
is hard to see how individuals who have not studied a thinker could
draw inspiration from him.

On the other hand, we believe that the doctrine of fascism is in

conformity with, or at least potentially in conformity with, the
teachings of the Common Doctor, and more generally with the
philosophy of realist political thought; with that political philosophy
founded by Aristotle, developed by Saint Thomas, and further
elaborated in the 20th century by Thomists faithful to the spirit of
the Master, such as Abbé Julio Meinvielle, Charles De Koninck, or
Father Louis Lachance.

Authority of the Leader, organic unity of the Whole, corporative

economy, primacy of the common good over particular goods, use
of force when necessary — that is to say, necessary for the
preservation or advancement of the common good — preeminent
role of the State: these are all elements that are found both in the
political philosophy of integral Thomism and in the doctrine of
fascism, and which therefore lead us to believe that it is possible —
in all honesty — to be both Thomist and fascist.

May the present work, which consists of nothing other than a free
commentary on The Doctrine of Fascism by Mussolini in light of the
principles of realist political philosophy, demonstrate the soundness
of this position.
 Chapter One

Fundamental Ideas
(Giovanni Gentile)
 1. Fascism as Philosophy

Like any sound political conception, Fascism associates thought

with action. It is an action animated by a doctrine.
This doctrine was born from a particular system of historical
forces, to which it remains intimately tied and from which it draws
its inner impulse.
It thus has a form that corresponds to the contingencies of time
and place, but at the same time it contains an ideal content that
elevates it to the level of a higher truth in the history of thought.

One cannot act spiritually upon the world as a human will

dominating other wills, without having a conception of the
transient and particular reality upon which one must act, and of
that other permanent and universal reality to which the former is
related in its being and in its life.
To know men, one must know reality and its laws.

There is no conception of the State that is not, at its core, a

conception of life.
It is a philosophy or an intuition, a system of ideas that is
expressed in a logical or systematic construction, which
always—at least virtually—amounts to an organic conception of
the world.

“Like any sound political conception, Fascism associates thought

with action. It is an action animated by a doctrine.”

All politics is a metaphysics in action. Action follows thought. For

every act of free will proceeds from intelligence. Even the least
philosophical of political men acts with a philosophy in mind—if not
a specific speculative philosophy, then at least a practical
philosophy, an ethics, a philosophy of life, which itself corresponds
to a certain vision of the world. Thus, Fascism, considered as a
political realization, is “animated” by a doctrine; animated, meaning
both brought into existence and governed toward an end, just as the
soul gives life to the body and directs it in its actions. Here we see
that Fascism is not skeptical, but on the contrary, intellectualist.

“This doctrine was born from a particular system of historical

forces, to which it remains intimately tied and from which it draws
its inner impulse. It thus has a form that corresponds to the
contingencies of time and place, but at the same time it contains an
ideal content that elevates it to the level of a higher truth in the
history of thought.”

Fascism, although it is above all a doctrine — thus possessing

something timeless — became incarnate in time, in history, as a
concrete realization; it became incarnate by accident (quod accidit:
what happens) in the 20th century, because all the circumstantial
conditions were then present for it to become incarnate.

And it was further incarnated in a given country, Italy, and then in

another, Germany — although National Socialism was a very
particular form of fascism — because these two countries were,
historically, those that offered the best conditions for its genesis.

Fascism indeed has a vocation to adapt to the circumstances of time

and place, to the eras and countries, for, like any sound political
conception, it takes into account the contingent reality. Fascism is
not an ideology; on the contrary — in this sense — it is pragmatic.
“We must not demand ‘the same certainty in all things,’” says
Aristotle.

Therefore, in contingent matters, such as natural achievements or

human activities, a certainty sufficient to attain the truth in most
cases is enough, despite some possible exceptions (Saint Thomas,
Summa Theologica, I-II, 96, 1).

In Aristotelian terms, we would say that Fascism is a

universal form of State, or of political regime, called to be
individuated by the different national materials, and
according to given historical circumstances.

And yet, it remains no less, fundamentally, a system, a doctrine, in

that it integrates everything that, in political matters, pertains to
necessity — that is, everything that cannot not be, and which is
therefore true always and everywhere; it contains “an ideal content
that elevates it to the level of a higher truth in the history of
thought.”

Thus, Fascism, though pragmatic, remains no less intellectualist.

Not skeptical, nor ideological, but intellectualist and pragmatic:

Fascism is, quite simply, realist. Now, this is precisely the position
constantly maintained by the Angelic Doctor.

“One cannot act spiritually upon the world, as a human will

dominating other wills, without a conception of the transient and
particular reality upon which one must act, and of that other
permanent and universal reality from which the former draws its
being and its life. To know men, one must know man; one must
know reality and its laws.”
The governance of political affairs consists, concretely, in governing
men, free wills.

And such governance must be done with intelligence, that is, with
knowledge of the matter.
It must therefore take into account both “the transient and
particular reality,” that is, the concrete circumstances of time and
place with which it must reckon in order to act; and “the permanent
and universal reality,” that is, the principles (or laws) of reality, as
well as the essences (or natures) of things.

Fascism believes in particular in the existence of a human nature, to

which every man has the duty to conform; and it seeks to know this
nature, since political government acts upon men, and to act upon
something, one must know its essence: “To know men, one must
know man.”

Fascism, far from wanting to “create a new man,” as has

often been said — wrongly — wants, on the contrary, men
to conform their actions, both individually and
collectively, to the Idea of Man (or ratio aeterna humani in
scholastic terms) which imposes itself on them, that is, to
human nature as it is apprehended by intelligence.

And the ideal to which fascism aspires is nothing other than this
Idea, in the sense that men must strive toward it in their lives.

Thus we see, once again, the fundamental realism of fascism.

“There is no conception of the State that is not, at its core, a

conception of life. It is a philosophy or an intuition, a system of
ideas that is expressed in a logical construction or summed up in a
vision or doctrine, but it is always, at least virtually, an organic
conception of the world.”

There is no conception of the State, that is to say of political

philosophy, which is not, at its core, a conception of life in general
and of human life in particular, that is to say a psychology (in the
classical sense of the term: logos, the science; psyche, the principle
of life, the soul) or an anthropology.

Fascism is thus indeed a “system of ideas”; but this system is not

based on a priori principles; it is, on the contrary, based on attentive
observation of human life, its nature, its laws, its modes of being
and acting.

Fascism wants collective life to correspond to individual life, for the

human soul to be, so to speak, the paradigm of the City. For
example, the soul is tripartite, so there is also a “tripartition” in the
political order (cf. Cicero, The Republic). The individual soul
includes reason, the irascible, and the concupiscible (Saint Thomas,
Supp., 96, 10); similarly, the City normally comprises three orders:
the order of those who contemplate (scientists, philosophers,
priests), the order of those who act (rulers, magistrates, warriors),
and the order of those who produce (peasants, workers, and more
generally all those who work with matter).

Fascism does not seek to “create” a utopian City—as the socialists

would want—but rather to refound a City in conformity with
human nature, with reality.
 2. Spiritualist Conception

“One would not understand fascism in many of its practical

manifestations — whether as a party organization, as an
educational system, or as a discipline — if one did not consider it in
light of its general conception of life. This conception is
spiritualist. For fascism, the world is not the material
world that appears on the surface, where man is an
individual isolated from all others, existing in himself
and governed by a natural law which, instinctively,
pushes him to live a life of selfish and momentary
pleasure. In what is called man, fascism considers the
nation and the fatherland, individuals and generations
united, within the same tradition and the same mission,
by a moral law that suppresses the instinct of life kept
within the narrow circle of pleasure, in order to establish
in duty a higher life, freed from the limits of time and
space: a life where the individual, through self-denial,
through the sacrifice of his personal interests, through
death itself, realizes this entirely spiritual existence
which gives him his human worth.’’

“This conception [of life] is spiritualist.”

This is what risks bothering our good conservatives, who put

fascism and communism back to back by claiming that these two
movements are basically just two faces of materialism.

No, fascism was not materialist, but on the contrary spiritualist.

Fascism was, so to speak, intuition itself, at a time when
most doctrines equated happiness with a bodily or
material well-being, whereas the entelechy of human life
was on the contrary the domination of the spirit over the
body and matter, in the surpassing of oneself, in the
service of an ideal, and even in death.

“For fascism, the world is not this material world that appears on
the surface, where man is an individual isolated from all others,
existing in himself and governed by a natural law which,
instinctively, drives him to live a life of selfish and momentary
pleasure.”

This does not mean that fascism denies matter; it simply does not
consider it as the essence of reality; it implicitly recognizes — at the
very least — the existence of forms in general, and of spiritual forms
in particular.

Thus, for the fascist, man is not reduced to an animal, that is, to a
purely material individual, without relation to others, and destined
for a life of pleasure.

But man, from a fascist perspective, is on the contrary a

fundamentally spiritual being, made to enter into relation with
beings who share the same nature, and in particular with those who
are part of the same political community, in friendship, selflessness,
and self-giving.
“In what is called man, fascism considers the nation and the
fatherland, individuals and generations finding themselves
united, in the same tradition and in the same mission, by a
moral law which suppresses the instinct for life confined to the
narrow circle of pleasure, to establish in duty a higher life, freed
from the limits of time and space: a superior life, where the
individual, through selflessness, through the sacrifice of his own
particular interests, even through death itself, realizes this entirely
spiritual existence which gives him his human worth.”

Some somewhat finicky people might object that there is no explicit

mention here of the spiritual soul of man, of his spirit.

To which we will respond that it is impossible to speak of

“tradition”, of “mission”, of “moral law”, of “duty”, of “selflessness”,
of “sacrifice”, of “entirely spiritual existence”, and even of
“fatherland” — the fatherland being above all an idea — if one does
not consider man as a spiritual being, that is, possessing a spirit; for
none of these things could apply to a purely material being, to an
animal.

“A life where the individual, through selflessness, through the

sacrifice of his own personal interests, through death itself,
realizes this entirely spiritual existence which gives him
his human worth.”

Gentile affirms here that man realizes his spiritual nature through
death. That is what is interesting.

Death, in the human being, is the separation of body and spirit. So

death is not something natural, since the body is material, and it is
in the nature of all material substance to deteriorate. Thus, since
man is naturally called to die; and since nature does nothing in vain,
we must say that death can only be a good and desirable thing:
through death, man realizes his spiritual nature, attaining an
entelechy of the spirit — which, as immaterial, is naturally
incorruptible.

Some will object that the corruption of the body is a consequence of

original sin, and that it is not part of nature, since Saint Paul writes:
“Through sin, death entered into the world” (Romans, 5, 2).

But it must be answered with Saint Thomas, that it is only a

consequence per accidens (like malice), but not per se; that is to say,
that death is not evil in itself and that it is not death that is the
punishment of sin, but the state in which it leaves man: that of a
man deprived of immortality. In other words, man would have died
even in the state of innocence, but in a better way, and the Angelic
Doctor says the following about the state of innocence of the first
man: “His body was not subject to dissolution through a force of
immortality existing in him; it is the soul which possessed a
supernatural force, given by God, by which it could preserve the
body from any corruption… […] This force which the soul had to
preserve the body from corruption was not natural; it was a gift of
grace” (Saint Thomas, Summa Theologica, I, 97, 1).

Others will object again that the separated state of soul and body is
imperfect, and that the soul united to a body is a desirable good,
since man is “a being composed of matter and form” (ibid., I, 76, 1).

But in truth, this objection must be rejected. In fact, “a natural

reality attains its end only through its form” (ibid., I–II, 18, 2); and
the form or nature of man is his spirit; and the form, or nature, of
man is essentially spiritual. But the end of a thing is what
corresponds to its nature, and this end is attained through its
entelechy, that is to say, the form which realizes its essence fully,
perfectly, that is to say: when the intellect (which is the highest part
of the soul) is completely separated from the sensible (the lowest
part), that is to say, when the soul has separated from the body and
is placed beside the intellect (ibid., I–II, 4, 5).

“The perfect beatitude of man cannot depend on the body” (ibid.,

I–II, 4, 5). So that the resurrection of the bodies, in which Catholics
believe absolutely and gratuitously, and after which this
resurrection the body is united to the spirit in its spiritual state:
“Perfect beatitude, which consists in the vision of God, is the act of a
soul without a body, or the act of a soul united to a body that is no
longer animal, but spiritual” (ibid., I–II, 4, 7).

If all these things are not said explicitly by Gentile, we cannot think
he was unaware of them — certain formulations indicate quite well
that he was intuitively aware of them; and it is clear from the way he
speaks of death that he explicitly understood it as the realization of
the final vocation of man, that is to say, a life where the spirit
prevails over death.

We see here that fascism taken as such is in conformity, or at least

potentially in conformity, with the Catholic religion.
 3. Positive Conception of Life as Struggle

“Here we have a spiritualist conception, born from the general

reaction of the present century against the materialist and
degenerate positivism of the 19th century. Such a conception is
anti-positivist, but positive: neither skeptical, nor
agnostic, nor pessimistic, nor passively optimistic (as are
generally the doctrines — all negative — that place the
center of life outside of man who, by his free will, can and
must create his world).

Fascism wants man to be active and engaged in action with all his
energies.

Manfully aware of real difficulties and ready to face

them, it conceives of life as a struggle, and holds that it is
up to man to conquer a life truly worthy of him by
creating, above all in himself, the instrument (physical, moral,
intellectual) to build it. This is true for the individual himself, for
the nation, and for humanity.

Hence, the high value of culture in all its forms (art,

religion, science) and the very great importance of
education. Hence also, the essential value of work,
through which man triumphs over nature and creates the
human world (economic, political, moral, intellectual).’’
“Such a conception is anti-positivist, but positive: neither skeptical,
nor agnostic, nor pessimistic, nor passively optimistic, as are
generally the doctrines (all negative) that place the center of life
outside of man who, by his free will, can and must create his
world.”

We see that fascism is a healthy reaction to all the degenerate

doctrines of the 19th century.
Fascism reaffirms the true nature of man, who is reason — that is,
intelligence and will — and it reaffirms that intelligence is capable of
knowing reality, and that the will is truly free, so that man is called
to govern his life.

To create his world, that is to say to create a human world, through

work on matter, transforming it into something useful for the good
of man. Matter, in a fascist perspective, must therefore be
“spiritualized” in order to conform to the spiritual nature of man.

“Vividly aware of real difficulties and ready to face them, [fascism]

conceives of life as a struggle.”

Since the good or happiness and the elevation of man consist by

nature in the state of the soul separated from the body, earthly life is
a trial, a series of trials to be overcome in order to attain the rest of
the soul. Thus, fascism considers life as a struggle, as does Christian
teaching.

And this conforms to the teaching of the Bible: “The life of man
upon earth is a warfare” (Job 7:1).

In fascism, animal life is already a struggle, where the law of the

jungle reigns.
“Some say that the animals which are now fierce and kill other
animals with their teeth and claws were once [in the state of nature]
peaceful, and lived with man and other animals. But this is not a
matter of faith. In fact, the nature of animals has not been
changed by the sin of man in the manner that human
nature has been. The lion is now what he was in the beginning,
eating other animals with his fangs and claws, just as he does now.
[…] By their nature, some animals are enemies of others.”
(Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, I, 96, 1)

Now, since man is an animal, this struggle naturally exists among

men as it does among animals, both on the individual scale
(confrontations) and on the collective scale (wars).

However, since man is a rational animal, it must be conceded that

the struggle among men has a vocation to be rational.

Moreover, properly human life includes a second struggle, even

greater than the first, which is the struggle against oneself — that is,
against one’s passions and instinctive desires.

“Reason commands the irascible and the concupiscible by a political

power [and not a despotic one], for the sensitive appetite is a proper
power governed by reason. The sensitive appetite, indeed, can resist
and oppose the impulse of reason, as is manifest in the case of
continence. This does not occur in animals, which are moved only
by the imagination and the senses. We know from experience that
we are sometimes inclined or concupiscent against reason, when we
feel or imagine something pleasant that reason forbids” (ibid., I-I,
81, 3).

Thus, it is natural — and not sinful — for the lower appetites to

resist reason; but it is proper to the superior man to submit the
lower appetites to the higher ones; and thereby, in this submission,
consists human virtue. Those who allow themselves to be ruled by
the lower appetites rather than ruling them with reason belong to
the inferior kind; while those in whom the soul suffers
difficulties and combats to avoid certain evils are the
rational kind. (ibid., I-II, 23, 1)

Now, the virtue of fortitude is precisely the virtue that allows for
this struggle. This is why fascism makes this virtue the foundation
of human excellence. And in this, it joins — even if it does not know
it — the teaching of the Saint Doctor:

“Fortitude, considered as a certain firmness of soul, is

required in general for the condition of any virtue.” (ibid.,
II-II, 123, 2)​
​
And elsewhere: “Fortitude is not only a virtue in itself, but it also
maintains the condition necessary for every virtue, namely, the
firmness to do good” — and it is for this reason that it is
called a cardinal virtue (ibid., II-II, 123, 11).

Saint Ambrose even goes so far as to say that:

“Fortitude carries with it all the other virtues, insofar as it is

the one most necessary in life, which is naturally made up of trials
and dangers, whether on the domestic level or the civic level.” (ibid.,
II-II, 123, 12)

We remind those Catholics who might forget it that Christ Himself

said:

“The kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by

force” (Matthew 11:12): the kingdom belongs to the strong, and it is
the violent who win it.

It seems that the fascist conception of life is not as opposed to

Christian morality as is often claimed.
 ★

“[Fascism] believes it belongs to man to conquer a life truly worthy

of him.”

Here is a conception of dignity that corresponds, once again, with

that of Saint Thomas. For him, true dignity is moral dignity,
that is to say, man’s dignity (in his rectitude of intention) or virtue.
It is something not innate, but acquired, through the repetition of
virtuous acts. Thus, man must conquer his dignity.

Man who gives in to his passions, says Saint Thomas, falls below his
ontological dignity, and becomes inferior to the animal — and
this is the reason why he can be removed if the common good
requires it.

“By sin man deviates from the order prescribed by reason;

and because of that he falls short of human dignity, which
consists in being free and existing for oneself; he thus falls
into the slavery proper to animals, in such a way that one
can dispose of him as one does with animals (…). Hence,
the sinner is bad in himself and becomes a man only in
appearance, but a good man is one who is able to place
himself before a good that the common good demands”
(Summa Theologica, II-II, 64, 2).

We are clearly far from the modern — and modernist — conception

of human dignity.

“From the high value of culture in all its forms (art, religion,
science) and the very great importance of education… derives,
equally, the essential value of work, through which man triumphs
over nature and creates the human world (economic, political,
moral, intellectual).”

Culture, education, and work are all victories of man over

nature.

Culture is the victory of man over the nature that surrounds him.
Education is the victory of man over his own nature.

Work, finally, is both a victory over external nature and

over inner nature: through work, man transforms raw material
into humanized matter and also works on himself.

For this reason, work is something natural to man:

“The Lord God took the man and placed him in the garden of
Paradise, to till it and keep it” (Genesis 2:15).
It is therefore in the essence of man to work.

And it is also because of the excellence of work, and not its

punishment — it is necessary to insist on this — that man continues
to work in Paradise even after the creation of woman and the
institution of procreation — since it is only after sin that God says
to man:

“You will eat your bread by the sweat of your brow” (Genesis 3:19);
Saint Thomas clearly explains it:
“This work [in earthly paradise] would not have been
painful but delightful; it would have been joyful, because
of the experience man would have had of his natural
strength”
(Summa Theologica, I, 102, 3).
But it is also very clear: the pain of work — just like the pain
related to childbirth — is a consequence of original sin, but a
consequence per accidens.
Before the sin, man enjoyed working because he received from it a
free gift from God and not something that was a burden of his
nature. In other words, pain does not naturally accompany
work, but only accompanies our fallen, sinful nature.

“The immortality [of the first man], the absence of suffering, and
the primitive state of integrity did not depend on the material
conditions, but on a special divine gift” (ibid., I, 81, 5).

And it is thanks to work that man is created in the image of

God, a unique being made in the image of the Trinity — soul,
body, intelligence, and will — and destined for immortality.

But above all, it is through work that man rises above the
ease and laziness of fallen nature. It is through work that he
conquers his moral dignity. For perfection consists in
acting.

“It is through work that form proves victorious over matter — form
is for matter, not matter for form: the reverse would be monstrous
(ibid., I, 89, 1) — and it is the rational spirit that triumphs over
brute matter.
 4. Moral Conception

“This positive conception of life is obviously an ethical conception.

It encompasses all of reality, even human activity, which it
dominates. No action escapes moral judgment; nothing can be
considered to have value if it is outside moral ends. Life, therefore,
involves a struggle, and fascism conceives it as such: serious,
austere, religious; it is entirely lived in a world sustained by moral
forces and responsibilities of the spirit. Fascism scorns comfortable
living.”

“This positive conception of life is obviously an ethical conception.”

Fascism has often been reproached with a certain Machiavellianism,

an absence of morality in political matters, a tendency to justify
everything — including the worst crimes — in the name of supposed
ends.

Yet, the authentically fascist conception of life in general, and of the

State in particular, is entirely opposed to such a view. For this
conception is profoundly moral.

Indeed, fascist regimes (Italian, German, Portuguese — to a certain

extent) are the only ones, in recent years, to have attempted to
restore honor to morality — a morality rejected both by liberal
democracies and communist regimes. One might think in
particular of their political defense of the traditional
family, and their fight against homosexuality or
prostitution.
 ★

“[Morality] encompasses all of reality, even human activity, which

it dominates. No action escapes moral judgment; nothing can be
considered to have value if it is outside moral ends.”

If morality encompasses all of reality, and therefore no human

action can escape moral judgment, then political action itself cannot
be emancipated from moral laws. This is why Gentile conceived
the fascist State as a moral reality (and not a legal one).

The fascist perspective, thinking that the State is above mere

legal norms (1, 2), affirms that the State is the head of the
State: it is not bound by a law external to itself, but must make
citizens virtuous, and must itself be virtuous.

And here, we may agree with a classic philosophical notion —

repeated by all classical thinkers — that:

“It is evident that the end of a multitude gathered in society is to live

virtuously; indeed, men do not come together just to live, because
even animals share that much; but to live well — and that is to
live according to virtue; so, the end of a human society is
life according to virtue” (De Regno, I, 1); and elsewhere:
“The City is a community of the good life, composed of diverse
communities and aimed at a perfect life, which is self-sufficient. […]
One attains happiness through virtue: so acting virtuously
according to the law is the most noble life. It is therefore manifest
that the political community consists in a communication of just
acts according to laws, and not just in sharing material things. It is
clear that the end for which the City must be ordered and
constituted is the good life lived according to virtue.”
(Comm. pol., III, 17, 411–412).
But, the end or the common good of a society must be received
beforehand by the authority that governs that society:

“To govern consists in prudently directing and ordering

the people toward the end imposed upon them” (De Regno,
II, 3). Now, in the City, this imposed end is virtue, and the State
must therefore organize itself and act accordingly toward the
attainment of the common good.
Therefore, it is the responsibility of the State to make
citizens virtuous, by all necessary means.

This is why, in the fascist doctrine, the State is not merely

the guarantor of individual freedom, as in the liberal
conception — and even less a kind of mechanistic or non-organic
representation of society — but is above all the guarantor of the
unity of the City in the truth of virtue.

And this is where the fascist State is truly totalitarian, since it

considers that, besides the education of children — or at
least as a significant part of it — the responsibility returns
to it.

“Nothing in the world can be deprived of value except in relation to

moral ends.”

We see here that the moral duty of which fascism claims to be the
promoter is not an abstract duty, detached from all sufficient reason
— as found in Kant — but rather one that is conditioned by moral
ends, that is, the ends of human life. What is good is what allows
man to attain his entelechy, that is, the perfect realization of his
nature or form; what is bad is what, on the contrary, prevents him
from reaching that end.
This also shows the alignment of fascist doctrine with the realist
finalism of Aristotle and Saint Thomas.

“Life, therefore, as fascism conceives it, is a serious, austere,

religious struggle: it is lived entirely in a world supported by the
moral forces and responsibilities of the spirit. Fascism scorns
comfortable living.”

Fascism wants man to live virtuously. But virtue is nothing other

than to act according to nature; and man’s nature is his reason.
Therefore, the virtue of man consists in acting according to his
reason:

“To act according to reason — that is what it means to act

virtuously.”
(Saint Thomas, Summa Theologica, II-I, 85, 2).

This is why fascism wants life to be lived in a rational, serious, and

austere manner.

And this is also why it rejects a comfortable life, or a life according

to pleasure, which reduces man to a brute, an animal without
reason:

“If it were within the power of pleasures to make men

happy, there would be no reason not to call the beasts
themselves happy — which would be absurd.”
(Boethius, cited by Saint Thomas in Summa Theologica, II-I, 2, 6).

Fascism despises the pleasures of the flesh.

 5. Religious Conception

“The Fascist conception of life is a religious one, in which man is

viewed in his immanent relation to a higher law, endowed with an
objective will transcending the individual and raising him to
conscious membership of a spiritual society. “Those who perceive
nothing beyond opportunistic considerations in the religious policy
of the Fascist regime fail to realize that Fascism is not only a
system of government but also and above all a system of thought.’’

​
We will limit ourselves here to two observations.

By “higher law,” it seems clear that Gentile means natural law —

in the Thomistic sense of the term, that is, in the sense of moral law
— even divine law; in any case, this law is certainly not the positive
law of man, since Gentile states clearly that it is “superior” to
them. And this is confirmed by the expression “objective will,”
which can only refer to God, Author of Nature, and thus of natural
law (let us recall, Gentile was Catholic).

Furthermore, he contradicts here all those who view religion as

merely an opportunistic or accidental element of the fascist regime;
on the contrary, in a fascist perspective, politics is in itself
inseparable from true religion — that is, from the one that
truly links man to the higher order and to the objective
will from which they derive their existence — therefore, to
Catholicism.
Indeed, from a fascist perspective, the political and religious
domains, while distinct, are nevertheless intrinsically and
necessarily connected; for the political order is by nature or by itself
ordered to the transcendent life of man — that is, to the life of the
human spirit after death.

And here we see, once again, how this is in full accordance with the
teaching of Saint Thomas:

“Since man, by living according to virtue, is ordered toward a

further end, which consists […] in the vision of God, and since the
end of the multitude of men is the same as that of the individual
man, it follows that the ultimate end of the political society
is not [only] to live according to virtue but to attain, by
this virtuous life, the vision of God.”
(De Regno, II, 3)

We see, once again, how the spiritualist conception of fascism

readily aligns with Thomism, and more generally with the realist
and Catholic vision of man in the City.
 6. Ethical and Realist Conception

“In the Fascist conception of history, man is man only by

virtue of the spiritual process to which he contributes as
a member of the family, the social group, the nation, and
in function of history to which all nations bring their
contribution. Hence the great value of tradition in
records, in language, in customs, in the rules of social
life. Outside history man is a nonentity. Fascism is therefore
opposed to all individualistic abstractions based on
eighteenth century materialism; and it is opposed to all
Jacobinistic utopias and innovations. It does not believe
in the possibility of “happiness” on earth as conceived by
the economistic literature of the 18th century, and it therefore
rejects the theological notion that at some future time the
human family will secure a final settlement of all its
difficulties. This notion runs counter to experience which
teaches that life is in continual flux and in process of
evolution. In politics Fascism aims at realism; in practice it
desires to deal only with those problems which are the
spontaneous product of historic conditions and which find or
suggest their own solutions. Only by entering in to the process of
reality and taking possession of the forces at work within it, can
man act on man and on nature.’’
​

“Man is man only by virtue of the spiritual process to which he

contributes as a member of the family, the social group, the nation,
and in function of history to which all nations bring their
contribution. Hence the great L 2 value of tradition in records, in
language, in customs, in the rules of social life … Fascism is
therefore opposed to all individualistic abstractions”​
​
It has often been said that fascism seeks to “create a new man,” a
Nietzschean Übermensch, freed from all bonds and all roots. This is
entirely false. Fascism does not believe in the possibility of such a
man, for it is realist, and knows that man cannot invent himself.
The man that fascism defends is the man integrated into the family
and social group, into the nation, and into the history to which all
nations contribute.

Within the family and social group: For fascism, the proximate
material cause of the City is not the totality of isolated individuals,
but the totality of families and intermediate bodies that compose it.
The individual as such relates to the City only through the family,
which is the first social body.

This is entirely in accord with the teaching of Saint Thomas:

“It is proper for man to live in society, for, being solitary,

his existence would not suffice for itself […]. A family,
confined to a single domain, to a certain number of needs
concerning vital sustenance — namely that which
concerns the acts of nourishment, the safeguarding of life,
and the functions necessary to it — would not suffice for
itself through a single form of work.” (De Regno, I, 1)

And it is even more evident that the social belonging of man does
not end with belonging to a family and a social milieu. It extends to
belonging to a political community, to a nation: “Man is only what
he is within the nation and in history, to which all nations
contribute.” (Marcel De Corte, Les Droits de l’homme). Outside of
it, the individual does not exist.​
​
Once again, this accords with the teaching of the Angelic Doctor, for
whom the only perfect community is the City:

“The City, which is the only perfect community, suffices

for itself with respect to all the needs of life, and even
more so the province (or union of several Cities), because
it alone can provide aid in time of necessity, especially
against the resistance of enemies” (Saint Thomas, De Regno,
I, 1).
​
The City is the only perfect community, not only because it
alone can fulfill all the needs of life, but also because it
alone can provide man with the good life — that is, a
properly human life, one lived according to reason and
virtue. It is for this reason that there does not and cannot
exist an ‘individual’ outside of it who does not belong to it.

This natural belonging to a family, to a social milieu, to a nation,

gives man his roots. Roots which, because they are natural and not
artificial, are indispensable to life. The uprooted man is a slave; he
desires a master and accepts servitude. Fascism esteems the
defender of tradition — in memories, in customs, in law,
in the rules of social life — and esteems tradition because
it is tradition that preserves reality, and because it is
tradition that gives the moral strength of the nation.

“it (Fascism) is opposed to all Jacobinistic utopias and

innovations. It does not believe in the possibility of
“happiness” on earth … and it therefore rejects the
theological notion that at some future time the human
family will secure a final settlement of all its difficulties”​
​
Fascism has often been reproached for being a utopia, worthy of the
madness of the French Revolution and of communism, which
sought to bring happiness to earth. Yet here again, this accusation is
entirely unfounded. Beyond the fact that the spirit of fascism is
profoundly different from that of the revolutionary spirit, it has
never sought to establish a paradise on earth. It rejects the very
possibility of “happiness” on earth. In the spirit of fascism, genuine
happiness is only possible beyond death.

Indeed, a thing receives its essence from its form; and the form of
man is his spirit; thus the essence of man is spiritual. But man does
not reach his finality so long as he does not perfectly realize his own
essence; consequently, man reaches his finality only when an act of
the intellect — the beatitude — is perfected:
“Beatitude is the perfection of man on the side of the
intellect” (Saint Thomas, Summa Theologica, I-II, 4, 5).
“Moreover, it is clear that the act of the intellect is all the
more perfect in man when it consists in knowing through
intelligible realities rather than through images” (ibid., I,
89, 1); this is possible only in the post-mortem state of pure spirit,
that is to say, of a spirit separated from the body, at which point
man attains his true happiness.

Fascism is thus inherently spiritualist.

This is why fascism does not believe in terrestrial happiness, and

rejects “all teleological conceptions according to which, at a certain
point in history, the human race will reach a definitive stage of
organization.”

At most, the only Paradise that fascism is willing to accept is “a

laborious, disciplined, uncompromising Paradise; a
Paradise in which one never rests, and which has, at its
gates, angels armed with swords” (José Antonio Primo de
Rivera, Textos de doctrina política).
 ★

“This notion runs counter to experience which teaches that life is in

continual flux and in process of evolution. In politics Fascism
aims at realism”​
​
In the spirit of fascism — which is radically that of Thomism — life
is a continual movement, to the point that what is no longer in
movement is nothing but death (Summa Theologica, I, 18, 2).
Furthermore, the earthly existence of man is a trial, a struggle; life
is made for the exercise of virtues. Fascism does not believe in
rest on earth. Rest exists only for the separated soul.

On earth, fascism wants man to be “active and engaged in action

with all his energies” (The Doctrine of Fascism, I, 3, Conception of
life as a struggle). For it is certain, according to fascist doctrine, that
difficulty is inherently linked to merit, that misfortune can only be
overcome by suffering supported with courage, and that struggle is
the supreme test, the crucible in which the human spirit is
tempered, elevated, and purified.

In this sense, fascism is profoundly realist.

 7. Anti Individualism and Liberty
​
“Anti-individualistic, the Fascist conception of life
stresses the importance of the State and accepts the
individual only in so far as his interests coincide with
those of the State, which stands for the conscience and
the universal, will of man as a historic entity. It is opposed
to classical liberalism which arose as a reaction to absolutism and
exhausted its historical function when the State became the
expression of the conscience and will of the people. Liberalism
denied the State in the name of the individual; Fascism
reasserts The rights of the State as expressing the real
essence of the individual. And if liberty is to he the attribute of
living men and not of abstract dummies invented by individualistic
liberalism, then Fascism stands for liberty, and for the only liberty
worth having, the liberty of the State and of the individual within
the State. The Fascist conception of the State is all
embracing; outside of it no human or spiritual values can
exist, much less have value. Thus understood, Fascism, is
totalitarian, and the Fascist State — a synthesis and a unit
inclusive of all values — interprets, develops, and potentates
the whole life of a people.”​
​
​
“Anti-individualistic, the Fascist conception of life stresses the
importance of the State and accepts the individual only in so far as
his interests coincide with those of the State, which stands for the
conscience and the universal, will of man as a historic entity.”

Fascism is anti-individualist, which means that it refuses to place

the individual above the State. But it is also — and here lies its
originality compared to absolutism — a communal political
conception: it is, on this earth, the only political form in which the
community is capable of perfectly fulfilling itself according to virtue.
(saint Thomas, De Regno, I, 1) Consequently, he wants that the
individual be ordered whole to the state as the imperfect is ordered
to the perfect. And this is why the fascist State is well in conformity
with the teaching of Saint Thomas:

“The whole man is ordered as to his end to the whole

community of which he is a part” (Summa Theologica, II-II,
65).

Since man — who is “by nature a political animal” (Aristotle,

Politics, I) — is naturally part of a State, and since the part is
ordered to the whole of which it is a part, fascism sees the State as
the true form of human society to which all individuals are ordered:
“Statism is this political conception in which man is
rightly ordered to the State as the part is to the whole”
(Abbé Julio Meinvielle, Conception catholique de la politique). It is
not the individual who is real, but the individual — as we shall see
later — who exists through the State.

And since the individuals who compose the State are by nature
political, the State is thus the guardian of the conscience and will of
these individuals, who find in it their own immanent objective.

★​
​

‘’Liberalism denied the State in the name of the individual; Fascism

reasserts The rights of the State as expressing the real essence of
the individual.’’
For the fascist, the individual exists only through and in the State.
He exists only through the State, insofar as his nature is one of
political and social existence, so that a man cannot be led to the
existence of a perfect political community (not of an individual
without family, and not without City).

But above all, he exists only in the State, since a truly human
activity — that is, one that consists in contemplating, acting, and
doing — can only be realized in the context of the political
community. The individual is a being whom one must first instruct
in the sciences and arts necessary to a good life, and whom one
must educate in virtue, and then give the opportunity to transmit
his knowledge (for knowledge must be able to be communicated),
and to give him the means to practice virtue — especially the virtue
of justice, which concerns men in so far as they are in relation to
one another — as well as the art to which he may eventually
specialize.

“The human person has no actual existence outside of the

plan of human life, taken as a whole” (Marcel De Corte, Les
Droits de l’homme).

The individual is nothing — currently — without the State; it is to

say that he cannot act except in the State, and therefore that his true
reality consists in the State; the State is the true reality of the
individual.

​
“Fascism stands for liberty, and for the only liberty worth having,
the liberty of the State and of the individual within the State.’’​
​

Liberty is not an absolute, an end in itself; it does not consist in

doing everything we want, or everything we desire, but in orienting
ourselves toward our finality as a political animal, which is none
other than the Common Good.

Indeed, one does not choose one’s end, for it is imposed on us by

our nature. Thus, the true dignity of the being endowed with free
will consists not in choosing an end for oneself, but in choosing the
right means that will allow one to reach that end. And man is a
political animal, so that his end is that of the City, which is the
Common Good. It follows from this that true liberty consists in
ordering oneself to the Common Good.

But only the State, as State, is capable of bringing men to the

Common Good, for the multitude cannot on its own pursue such a
good. The only liberty that matters is therefore the liberty of the
State, and that — conjointly — of the individual insofar as he is in
the State; a liberty conceived outside the State would be purely and
simply illusory.

“Human dignity, the integrity of man, and his liberty are

eternal and intangible values; but liberty exists only
within an order” (José Antonio Primo de Rivera, Textos de
doctrina política).

And the State alone can give an order to human liberty, that is, offer
it both the means necessary to act — which we have studied — and
the finality toward which it must tend, namely the Common Good.

★
“The Fascist conception of the State is all embracing; outside of it
no human or spiritual values can exist, much less have value. Thus
understood, Fascism, is totalitarian”

Everything in the State — that is to say, everything that pertains to

man, the political animal, exists in the State; and nothing has value
apart from its relation to his existence (and being and existence
being transcendental notions) — everything has value only in
relation to the State, and that, among human things, those that are
most noble are precisely those which relate most directly to the
State, or to the political community.

It is for this reason that fascism is “totalitarian.”

And it is totalitarian not in the sense that it would deny the personal
vocation of man (as does communism); but in the sense that, in the
one and only order it recognizes — that of political order — man and
his acts are referred to an end, the Common Good (the only end that
can be called such), and in this sense to the State, or to Totality,
since the Common Good is the immanent finality of man.

“The whole man is ordered as to his end to the entire community of

which he is a part” (Summa Theologica, II-II, 65), and this is why
the State is for the Common Good, in the sense that man finds his
happiness only upon this earth through the Common Good of
Totality. In this way, fascism is therefore entirely in conformity with
the natural order, which is essentially political.

“There is a totalitarianism of the Common Good, because

the State can command all actions insofar as they are
ordered to the Common Good” (Abbé Julio Meinvielle,
Conception catholique de la politique); a Common Good which, as
Saint Thomas notes, has something of the “divine” about it (Summa
Theologica, II-II, 99, 1) insofar as it is, in this world, that which
most closely participates in the universality of God.
“The temporal Common Good of all society is divine
because it comes from God and leads to God” (Abbé Julio
Meinvielle, op. cit.).

Moreover, the supernatural Common Good is, for the political soul
as for the saintly soul, perfect happiness. Grace does not suppress
nature, but perfects it (gratia non tollit naturam sed perficit), so that
the supernatural Common Good — for man as for the political
community — perfects the natural Common Good.

It has been claimed that the transcendence of happiness, according

to Saint Thomas, lies in the fact that this supreme end is purely and
simply separate from the common good; but this is a serious error.
In reality, Saint Thomas does not in any way separate the two; the
universal good common to the entire political community is distinct
from inferior goods in that it surpasses private goods. One can thus
say, without ambiguity of terms, “particular” and “singular.”

“The proper good of man must be a common good according to

reason. For the good that man possesses as a man is the good he has
according to reason; from which it follows that the artisan is in his
own good when he works well, but that his good as a man is the
Common Good of the City” (Saint Thomas, Quaestiones
disputatae, II, 2).

In the same way, happiness is not the good of man as a singular

man, but, in the same way, “happiness is not the good of man
as such… but as a citizen of the City of God” (Charles De
Koninck, De la primauté du Bien commun contre les
personnalistes).​
​
And the Common Good consists in nothing other than the unity of
the City: “the good and salvation of men in society is the
preservation of this unity, which brings concord; and without it,
well-being, the very beneficence of social life, disappears: moreover,
a disunited society becomes unbearable to its members. This is what
must be applied above all by he who leads the human community:
to procure unity” (De Regno, I, 2).

A unity of the City which is also called political friendship, since the
members of the State or the political community are united in the
unity of persons: “Friendship is the principal solicitude of
legislators, even more than justice, for united men are not
particularly in need of justice, while the divided, enemies
of friendship, have constant need of it” (Aristotle,
Nicomachean Ethics, VIII, 1).​
​
Political friendship, it is true, is by nature something somewhat
contradictory. On the one hand, it is the finality of the political
community: if citizens do not spontaneously perform acts of
friendship among themselves, the State has the duty to compel
them to do so. But, on the other hand, friendship must, by
definition, be something voluntary and free: one cannot force
people to be friends.

However, since political friendship is the natural finality of society,

there must necessarily be a means of overcoming this contradiction.
And the answer is given to us, once again, by Aristotle: “The City is
a plurality which, by the necessary means of education,
must be brought back to a single community” (Politics, II, 5).

Therefore, for a State, this is not a tyrannical task, but rather a

soundly totalitarian one, that is to say, concerned with the greatest
good of the members of the City — namely, the Common Good — by
placing in charge of education those who are both rationally and
reasonably able to order citizens to the Common Good, which is the
ultimate end of rational individuals. For it is through the State and
only through the State that the individual manages to renounce the
desires that arise from his subjectivity, so as to desire only the
Universal, which is what his nature’s objective will tends toward.

Political friendship is the immanent end of man, for only friendship

makes it possible to actualize all the powers of his nature —
intelligence, will, heart — and political friendship is the most perfect
of friendships, insofar as it is the one that best actualizes these same
powers.

Aristotle says that political friendship, also called concord, is

realized in the City “when the citizens are unanimous on their
interests, choose the same line of conduct, and carry out all the
decisions taken in common” (Nicomachean Ethics, IX, 6). This is
what appears to be “totalitarian”!

As for Saint Thomas, he readily takes up Cicero’s magnificent

definition of political friendship in The Republic: “The agreement
of human and divine things, with goodwill (love of the
will) and charity (love of the heart).”

Here we see the beauty of totalitarianism — fascist, of course —

which, far from alienating individuals in the unity of the State,
instead makes them reach their ultimate end through and within
this unity of the State.​
​

★​
​
​

“the Fascist State … interprets, develops, and potentates

the whole life of a people.”

The State interprets and develops the life of the people insofar as
the State — that is to say here, political authority — is to the
multitude what the soul is to the body (De Regno, I, 1), and it is the
soul that gives reality to the body, and which develops its own
proper life.

The State, finally, governs the entire life of the people, in the sense
that it is a total authority since, for the people, as for the individual,
there is no other ultimate end than their own unity — for unity is
the ultimate end — and it is unity through and in the State (ibid., I,
2).

If the fascist State governs the entire life of the people in a

totalitarian manner, it is for the good of the people, and solely for
their good.
 8. Antisocialism and Corporatism

“Neither individuals nor groups (political parties, associations,

unions, classes) exist outside the State. Fascism opposes socialism,
which freezes the historical movement of classes in the class
struggle, and ignores the unity of the State, which incorporates
classes into a single economic and moral reality; and likewise, it is
against class-based syndicalism. But Fascism wants the real
demands that gave rise to the socialist and syndicalist movement
to be recognized, and it ensures that in the corporative system
these interests align with the unity of the State.’’

Neither individuals nor groups (political parties, associations,

unions, classes) exist outside the State.

Insofar as, by “State,” Mussolini means nothing other than the City
itself, this statement signifies nothing other than that all
intermediate bodies, whatever they may be, belong to the City, and
that their own goods are ordered toward the Common Good of the
City.

“It is the Common Good that is best in the order of human society.
It is that in which all men meet and by which they form one thing;
for it is the unity of friendship, which is unity in the will, the unity of
political will. The Common Good of the City is greater and more
divine than the goods of individuals, of the family, and of
intermediate groups” (Saint Thomas, Comm. pol., I, III, 32-33).
Thus, intermediate bodies can pursue their own goods only insofar
as they are ordered toward the Common Good; one might even say
that they are goods of the Common Good. The State may protect
them, but only insofar as, and especially when, they serve
intermediate bodies; the true good of an intermediate body is to
cooperate in the Common Good of the Whole.

Now, this Common Good, which the State must ensure, is nothing
other than the unity of the social body composed of multiple bodies.
Political action, at all levels, consists in working toward the unity of
the City, that is, toward political friendship, since the members of
the City are persons, and the unity of persons is friendship. Political
unity is thus unity of friendship between the bodies that compose it;
and this unity is all the stronger when the members have more
friendship for one another.

Thus, the ultimate goal of the bodies of trades is to

cooperate with the unity of the State.

Some may object that intermediate bodies come before the City, in
the same way that members come before the whole. To this, one
must reply, following Saint Thomas, that “the whole is prior in
nature and perfection to the part, according to the order
of generation and of perfection […]; the parts are prior in
the order of generation, but the whole is prior in the order
of perfection” (Comm. pol., II, III, 38-39); and the perfection of
intermediate bodies is to be parts of the City. Chronologically,
intermediate bodies are born before the City; but in terms of
meaning and value, they are subordinate to the City.​
​
Fascism is corporatist, in that it advocates the state organization of
bodies bringing together workers and employers, both within the
trade and within the larger framework of the company in which they
work, with the general interest guiding the enterprise as much as
the State.
It emerges clearly from this that Fascism is radically opposed to
Marxism and all its offshoots. Fascism seeks the unity of the State
through political friendship, which is the true Common Good, while
Marxism, on the contrary, sets classes against one another
(“bourgeois” on one side, “proletarians” on the other), thereby
sowing discord and the dissolution of political society.

Those who equate Fascism and Marxism have therefore not

understood, or else have shown extraordinary bad faith.

“But Fascism wants the real demands that gave rise to the socialist
and syndicalist movement to be recognized; and it ensures that in
the corporative system these interests align with the unity of the
State.”

However, Fascism wants to protect workers, just as they were

protected in ancient economic societies that abolish class conflicts
by bringing the trade under the protection of the State and ordering
it to the Common Good. This adaptation of the Fascist will to the
order of the Ancien Régime, while adjusting to contemporary
economic circumstances, is noteworthy.

Thus, Fascism is corporatist, meaning that it advocates the state

organization of bodies bringing together workers and employers,
both within the trade and within the general framework of the
company in which they work, with the general interest guiding the
enterprise as much as the State. Finally, Fascism intends to ensure
both distributive justice, order, and the unity of the State.​
​

★​
​
If the economic-political organization of society advocated by
fascism is in accordance with the traditional — and Thomist —
conception of the social order, we can also add that it conforms to
the teaching of the Popes, and more generally to the Social Doctrine
of the Church.

Here are some excerpts from the encyclical Rerum Novarum (1891)
by Leo XIII, published at the end of the “liberal century”:

“The last century destroyed, without replacing them with

anything, the ancient corporations which were a
protection for the workers. The religious sentiments of the past
have disappeared from public laws and institutions and thus, little
by little, isolated and defenseless workers have found
themselves, over time, at the mercy of inhuman masters
and the greed of a pitiless competition.

The socialists, so-called in order to cure this evil, stir up

the jealous hatred of the poor against the rich.”

There is nothing more opposed to the truth than such conduct,

which the Church has always condemned. By contrast, she teaches
that class distinctions are in themselves natural, that mutual
duties bind them together, and that those duties are so dictated
by reason and Christian justice.

Thus, in the case of the worker, who engages himself to serve a

master, he is bound by the obligation of fulfilling entirely and
faithfully what is agreed, so long as it is not contrary to justice or
morality. He must not harm his employer, neither in his property,
nor in his person. Even his claims must be free from violence
and must never take on the form of sedition. He must avoid
wicked men who, in deceitful speeches, stir up exaggerated hopes
and make grand promises that end only in vain regrets and the ruin
of fortunes.

As for the rich and the employers, they must not treat the worker as
a slave; it is just that they respect in him the dignity of man, and still
more that of the Christian. Bodily labor, by the common testimony
of reason and of Christian philosophy, far from being a subject of
shame, does honor to man, since it furnishes him with an honorable
means of supporting his life.

But, among the principal duties of the employer, the first is to give
to each one the wage that is just.

In the same way, then, by all possible means, the State

must render itself useful to other classes, and likewise it
can greatly improve the lot of the working class. It does so
most rigorously by making it its concern to ward off any
reproach of injustice; for in virtue of its office, the State
must serve the Common Good. It is evident that the more
general advantages resulting from this orderly action will multiply,
the less there will be need to resort to other makeshift expedients to
remedy the condition of the workers.

Finally, employers and workers themselves can contribute

significantly to solving the question by all works aimed at effectively
relieving want and bringing the two classes closer together.
Among these works are all mutual aid societies.

But the first place belongs to workers’ corporations which,

in themselves, embrace nearly all such works. Our ancestors long
enjoyed the beneficial influence of these corporations. They first
assured the workers clear advantages. In addition, as monuments
proclaim, they were a source of glory and progress for the arts
themselves. Today, the more cultivated generations, the more
regulated morals, the more numerous requirements leave no
doubt that these corporations must be adapted to new
needs. Therefore, we wish to see them formed from various
professions, either from the members of a single trade, or mixed,
bringing together both workers and employers. It is also desirable
that they be so organized as to render better and more effective
their work.”
The fascist State, by instituting such corporations, does nothing
other than conform to the precepts of the Church.​

Here now are some excerpts from the encyclical Quadragesimo

anno (1931) of Pius XI, published forty years after Rerum novarum,
as the Italian fascist State saw it:

“As for the role of public powers, Leo XIII boldly went beyond the
barriers within which liberalism had contained their intervention;
he did not hesitate to teach that the State is not only the
guardian of order and law, but that it must work
energetically so that, through the entire body of laws and
institutions, ‘the constitution and administration of
society will naturally make the well-being of the people
flourish’.

While the principles of liberalism, which paralyzed any

effective intervention by public powers, had long been
wavering, the encyclical determined in the minds of many
an increasingly powerful movement in favor of a frank
and vigorous return of the State to the domain of social
economy.

Regarding the reform of institutions, it is quite natural

that the State devotes all its care to it. We recognize that
reforms must be achieved according to the needs and conditions of
the time, and that they will only be accomplished by the
harmonious blossoming of groups and corporations, under the close
and constant collaboration of individuals and the State.
Given the evolution of social conditions, it is now evident that many
things which were formerly accomplished by small associations can
no longer be done except by large and powerful collectives.

The goal which the State and the elite of the citizens must
above all set for themselves, and to which they must apply
all their efforts, is to put an end to the conflict dividing the
classes and to provoke and encourage cordial
collaboration between professions.

‘Social policy must therefore make every effort to

reconstitute the corporations.’

Perfect healing will only occur if, for these opposing classes, we
substitute well-constituted bodies — “orders” or “professions” —
which group men not according to the position they occupy in the
labor market, but according to the different branches of social
activity to which they belong.

“The resulting order,” as Saint Thomas clearly explains, “from the

unity of the various diverse elements harmoniously ordered, will
not be truly ordered unless there is true unity relating to
the common good of all the elements which constitute it.”

A real union will only be found — for each profession, in each of its
categories, for all the workers as well as all the employers — in the
common good to which they must all contribute by coordinating
their efforts.

From this, it is easy to conclude that among professional groupings,

primacy unquestionably belongs to the interests common to the
profession; however, the most important thing is to ensure
that collective activity always turns toward the Common
Good of political society.
“Recently, as everyone knows, a new kind of trade union
organization and cooperative was inaugurated.”

The State grants the trade union legal recognition which does not
give it a monopoly as such, since only the recognized union can
represent employers and workers before the State, and it alone is
authorized to conclude labor contracts or collective bargaining
agreements.

Union membership is optional, and it is in this sense that one can

say the trade union does not have a monopoly, since payment of
dues to other special associations is mandatory only for those who
belong to a recognized union. Employers or workers who do not
belong are not bound by the collective agreements concluded by the
recognized union.

It is true that there is an officially declared monopoly of the

recognized union, but this does not exclude the existence of
professional associations de facto.

“The corporations are made up of representatives from

workers’ and employers’ unions of the same profession or
the same trade and, acting as true and proper organs of
State institutions, direct and coordinate the activity of the
unions in all matters of common interest.

Strikes and lockouts are prohibited; if the parties cannot

come to an agreement, it is the authority that intervenes.

It does not take much reflection to see the advantages of

the institution, even as briefly as We have described it:
peaceful collaboration between classes, elimination of
socialist action and organizations, moderating influence
of a special magistracy.”
It is quite evident that Pius XI is here alluding to the fascist
corporatist system.
★​
​
​

We will conclude this chapter with these words taken from The
Catholic Conception of the Economy by Abbé Julio Meinvielle:

“Concretely, fascism is the only movement that has

restored the traditional principles of political economy.”

These traditional principles are none other than those of Saint

Thomas Aquinas and, more generally, of realist political philosophy.
 9. Democracy and Nation

“Grouped according to their several interests,

individuals form classes; they form trade-unions when
organized according to their several economic activities; but first
and foremost they form the State, which is no mere
matter of numbers, the suns of the individuals forming
the majority. Fascism is therefore opposed to that form of
democracy which equates a nation to the majority,
lowering it to the level of the largest number; but it is the
purest form of democracy if the nation be considered as it should
be from the point of view of quality rather than quantity, as an
idea, the mightiest because the most ethical, the most coherent, the
truest, expressing itself in a people as the conscience and will of the
few, if not, indeed, of one, and ending to express itself in the
conscience and the will of the mass, of the whole group ethnically
molded by natural and historical conditions into a nation,
advancing, as one conscience and one will, along the self same line
of development and spiritual formation. Not a race, nor a
geographically defined region, but a people, historically
perpetuating itself; a multitude unified by an idea and
imbued with the will to live, the will to power, self-consciousness,
personality.”

“individuals form classes; they form trade-unions when organized

according to their several economic activities”
​
Fascism has often been accused of wanting to abolish all
intermediary bodies between the individual and the State. This
accusation proves unfounded, since on the contrary, fascism made
itself the defender — doctrinally and historically — of intermediary
bodies. It has always admitted that society is composed of multiple
orders, and moreover, advocated and established a corporatist
system (I, 8. Anti-socialism and corporatism), such as that which
existed under the Ancien Régime and which was encouraged by
papal encyclicals (Rerum novarum, Quadragesimo anno).​
​

“but first and foremost they (the individuals) form the State”​
​
By “State,” it is clear that Mussolini does not mean here the state
institution, but the public thing — the City. What he therefore
means is that the individuals who compose a people, although they
are part of multiple intermediary bodies, nonetheless belong to a
single City, and that this belonging comes first in the order of nature
(“before all”) and in the order of perfection (“above all”) compared
to belonging to other social bodies, including the family.

This is entirely in line with Aristotle’s teaching, as taken up by Saint

Thomas, as follows:

“The City is prior by nature and perfection to the family

and to the individual. The reason is as follows. The whole
is prior to the part, in the order of nature and perfection.
[…] For if man, as a substance, is destroyed, the foot no longer
remains, nor the hand, except equivocally — in the sense in which
one could call a severed hand a ‘hand.’ And this is because when
such a part is corrupted, the whole is corrupted. What is corrupted
does not preserve its nature, hence it loses its definition. It is
therefore clear that the essence, simplified in name, remains in the
name alone, which is then attributed equivocally. And that the part
is corrupted if the whole is corrupted can be shown by the fact that
every part is defined by its operation and by its operative virtue. The
foot is defined as the organ of walking. Therefore, because it no
longer fulfills this function, it is no longer the same species; what
remains of the foot in a corpse is called ‘foot’ only equivocally. […]
It is therefore evident that the whole is naturally prior to
the parts, even though the parts are prior in the order of
generation. For each man belongs to the City as a whole,
just as the parts of a man belong to the whole man. For
just as the hand or foot cannot exist without man, so the
individual cannot by himself subsist apart from the City.
[…] From these premises it follows that the City is prior by
nature to the individual.”
(Saint Thomas, Commentary on the Politics, I, II, 38–39)

But if the City is prior to the individual and to the family in the
order of nature — in the sense that the individual and the family are
only natural parts of it — it is also prior to the intermediary bodies
that are part of it.

And insofar as what is first in the order of nature, of being, is also

first in the order of perfection (that is, of the good, being and good
being transcendentals, the more perfect a thing is, the more good it
is), it follows that the City is more perfect than the social bodies that
compose it, and that belonging to the City comes “before” — in right
— belonging to those social bodies.

Thus, it is in accordance with integral Thomism to declare

that individuals, whether grouped into orders or
intermediary bodies, belong above all and before all to the
State, that is, to the City of which they are members.​
​
​

​
“which is no mere matter of numbers, the suns of the individuals
forming the majority. Fascism is therefore opposed to that form of
democracy which equates a nation to the majority, lowering it to
the level of the largest number’’

Here again, no statement could be more “realist.”

Indeed, while a whole can be mathematically reduced to the sum of

its parts, it is not so ontologically. For the parts are to the whole
what matter is to substance, and a substance is made not only of
prime matter but also of a substantial form, which gives matter an
order and thus a nature — without which a body would be reducible
to a heap of members, or — analogously — a house to a pile of
bricks, which is absurd. For there truly to be a whole, there must
indeed be parts, but also an order among those parts.

Therefore, the City cannot be reduced to the men who compose it,
and these men cannot be considered in isolation, as independent
entities without relation.

Men are united among themselves, in a City, by a shared history,

culture, and destiny; in short, by a love shared by all which unites
them (“love is the force of union,” Saint Thomas, Summa
Theologica, I, 60, 4).

A State is not reducible to a collection of individuals. A State is,

above all, a nation.
​
​
★​
​

“the people … as an idea, the mightiest because the most ethical,

the most coherent, the truest, expressing itself in a people as the
conscience and will of the few, if not, indeed, of one, and ending to
express itself in the conscience and the will of the mass, of the
whole group ethnically molded by natural and historical
conditions into a nation, advancing, as one conscience and one
will, along the self same line of development and spiritual
formation. … but a people, historically perpetuating itself; a
multitude unified by an idea and imbued with the will to live, the
will to power, self-consciousness, personality.”​
​
Thus, the people, from a fascist perspective, must not be understood
as a collection of individuals, but as a unity — that is to say, as the
conscience and the will of a multitude united by a history, a culture,
and a common destiny; or, to use José Antonio Primo de Rivera’s
expression, as a “unit of destiny in the universe” and the will to
give it life.

Now, if race, or ethnicity, is the material substratum of the nation,

culture is its formal constituent.

Culture is the idea: an idea of human nature.

Concretely, it is a set of customs, traditions, and habits which
constitute a shared heritage for the individuals of the same people.

“The customs, traditions, and habits of a nation, as well as

the institutions in which they are lived, truly constitute a
common heritage. Because, first of all, there can be no
collaboration, which is the collective force capable of producing
birth and progress, without such shared customs. Next, because
those customs rest upon the moral order and the law, and because
they are the universal and lasting conditions of perfection. They are
always, for all, facilities offered to the nation, like an organized
service of people, things, and values. Each person, inasmuch as he
submits to them, can draw a considerable increase in perfection
from them.​
​
Is it necessary to add that it is especially these which are
responsible for the particular mode in which the Good is
clothed in each nation? Rooted in the soul of the people,
they bear witness to the favorable geographic and
economic conditions, to a kind of civilization, to moral
temper, to intellectual and artistic development, and to
the general level of culture. The more one is detached
from the matter, the more one rises to the cause of the
limitation or individuation of the spirit. Moreover, being
instruments, means, they are what comes first in the plan
of execution. They are therefore what participates in the
greatest measure in the concrete mode of life.”
(Père Louis Lachance, Political Humanism according to Saint
Thomas Aquinas, pp. 247–248)

Men gathered in a City are not only united among themselves by

similar interests or by the place where they live; they are above all
united by a common tradition. Without this unity, which
would be purely material and utilitarian, their
communion in a shared heritage would be fragile and
eventually nonexistent, and so would the City itself. The
City cannot rest upon a mere convergence of material
interests. It must be based, in order to be truly alive, on the
cultural unity of the people, on its tradition, its language, and its
memory.

The philosopher Thomas Molnar rightly remarked:

“It is by living in a given milieu, and not otherwise, that we are
shaped by that very milieu; our identity does not result from the
sum of individual choices.” (L’Américanologie, p. 99)

This is why individual happiness evaluated at the collective level —

without an idea of the nation — is incomplete; that is to say, an idea
of the nation that is organized, endowed with a real political
existence, capable of directing its organic entirety as a true,
organized society.

This was, unfortunately, the case of the society of the Ancien

Régime, where the absence of collective consciousness and will led
to collapse.
 10. Conception of the State

“In so far as it is embodied in a State, this higher personality

becomes a nation. It is not the nation which generates the
State; that is an antiquated naturalistic concept which afforded a
basis for 19th century publicity in favor of national governments.
Rather is it the State which creates the nation, conferring
volition and therefore real life on a people made aware of their
moral unity. The right to national independence does not arise
from any merely literary and idealistic form of self-consciousness;
still less from a more or less passive and unconscious de facto
situation, but from an active, self-conscious, political will
expressing itself in action and ready to prove its rights. It arises, in
short, from the existence, at least in fieri, of a State. Indeed, it is the
State which, as the expression of a universal ethical will, creates
law.”​
​
“It is not the nation which generates the State”​
​
The nation is analogous to the State, for the political society, as
matter is to form in a hylomorphic composite, or as the body is to
the soul in an animal; for just as the principle of unity of a
composite is the form, and the soul is the principle of unity in an
animal, so too the State is the principle of unity in the nation.

Indeed, since men are numerous and each can provide for
his own particular good, their society would disintegrate if
there were no principle aimed at the common good of this
multitude — just as the body of a man or any animal would
dissolve if there were no directive force uniting all
members toward the common good. (Saint Thomas, On
Kingship, I, 1) — and the guiding principle or form of a national
multitude is precisely what we call the State.
Now, it is evident that it is not matter that causes form, for prime
matter, which is pure potentiality, is only capable of being a natural
being insofar as it is actualized by form (Saint Thomas, Summa
Theologica, I, 76, 14, 2); indeed, being and unity are
transcendentals — to be is to be one, and what is not one is not
being, but multiplicity (Aristotle, Metaphysics, X); hence a nation
that is not unified by a State is not yet a properly defined nation, for
it does not even have the existence of a nation.

It is therefore correct to say that “it is not the nation that creates the
State.”

“On the contrary, it is the State which creates the nation, conferring
volition and therefore real life on a people made aware of their
moral unity.”

Since the nation is to the State as matter is to form, and since form
is what brings matter’s potential into actuality (Summa Theologica,
I, 9, 2), it is necessary to affirm that what gives the nation its
existence is the State — or, to put it differently, the State is the
actualizing principle of the nation’s potentiality, bringing it from an
indeterminate state to an effective existence.

Thus, the State does so by incarnating the objective will of the

nation, which is the will of the human nature that unites the
members of the national whole.

​
★
“The right to national independence ... (is founded on) an active,
self-conscious, political will expressing itself in action and ready to
prove its rights. It arises, in short, from the existence, at least in
fieri, of a State.”​
​
Just as the potential or right of a material substance to receive a
form is founded on a certain disposition of the matter — a
disposition adequate to the desired form — so too must the nation
have an active consciousness of itself, that is, a will ready to act, in
order to have the right to exist as a political community, that is, as a
community of action.

In other words, there must already be a State in potency —

or in fieri — within the nation that aspires to exist, so that
it already effectively has the right to exist. The fact that a
nation is not in the state of prime matter, but already bears the
mark of form, is what gives it this sign. It is in fact “matter marked
by a quantity, which is the principle of individuation” (Summa
Theologica, I, 75, 4); hence it is a certain realization of the nation
that founds its right to independence. While it is true that the
State is not created by the nation, we can nonetheless
affirm that it is its product in a reduced sense.​
​
​
★​
​

“it is the State which, as the expression of a universal ethical will,

creates law.”​

The State is the most perfect realization, on the collective scale, of

human nature, or, if one prefers, the most complete realization of
human nature as a political nature; thus it embodies the objective
will of the persons who compose it — that is, the will of their
universal human nature.

Now, the very reason for law — understood as the natural ordering
that determines what belongs to each person — is nothing other
than human nature.

It follows that it is entirely correct to say that “the State creates

law.”
 11. An Ethical State​

“The nation, as a State, is an ethical reality, which exists and lives

insofar as it develops. For it, to stop is to die. The State is therefore
not only an authority that governs and gives legal form and a
value of spiritual life to individual wills; it is also a power that
asserts its will externally, by having it recognized and respected —
that is, by demonstrating, through facts, its universality in all the
manifestations necessary for its development. From this comes an
organization and at least a virtual expansion. The State can thus
be likened to the nature of the human will, which knows no limits
to its development and proves its infinity by realizing itself.’’

“The nation, as a State, is an ethical reality, which exists and lives

insofar as it develops. For it, to stop is to die.’’​
​
The State, in the doctrine of fascism, is not only an institution; it is
also and above all an organic reality, that is to say a reality that lives
— at least analogously.

Indeed, life, for Saint Thomas, is the mode of existence of that

which moves by itself: “We shall call living all beings that determine
themselves to movement or to any kind of action” (Summa
Theologica, I, 18, 1). The living being is therefore the being
whose movement is spontaneous in its principle and
immanent in its end; to put it in philosophical terms, it is the
being whose operative efficient cause is its formal cause, and whose
final cause is its own good.

Now, the State is a moral whole. And a moral whole is a whole

composed of reasonable individuals (remote material cause) united
in their action by an authority (formal cause as the principle of unity
of persons, efficient cause as the principle of their common action),
with a view to a good (final cause). It is therefore a whole which is
itself an end, that is to say, whose purpose is nothing other than its
own good; and it is also a whole which moves by itself, that is, a
being whose principle of movement is intrinsic, since its formal
cause, which is the principle, is also its efficient cause. And thus,
analogously, a whole which possesses life.

Therefore, the State or the political community, which is a

moral whole, “an ethical reality,” is thereby also an
organic reality.

But a living being is only alive insofar as it moves by itself: “As soon
as a living being has nothing but an external motion, it is dead
through lack of life” (Summa Theologica, I, 18, 1). And, “For a living
being, to live is to be” (I, 18, 2). Hence an organic reality exists
insofar as it is currently organic, that is to say, insofar as it moves by
its own forces.

Therefore, it seems quite correct to say that the political

community, which is an ethical reality, which is a living reality,
“exists insofar as it develops,” and that “for it, to stop is to die.”​

“The State is also a power that asserts its will externally, by having
it recognized and respected — that is to say, by demonstrating,
through facts, its universality in all the manifestations
necessary for its development.”​
​
Because the State or the political community is, as a “perfect
community” (Saint Thomas, De Regno, I, 1), the individuation at the
collective level of human nature — or, if one prefers, the
individuation of human nature as political nature — it is in the
nature of a State to wish to be universal and, consequently, to do
everything to universalize itself — at least spiritually, that is to say,
culturally.

The aspiration of a State to empire is therefore something natural

and good, and a sign of vitality, as we shall have the occasion to see
again (II, 13. Empire and discipline).

★​
​
​

“The State can thus be likened to the nature of the human will,
which knows no limits to its development and proves its infinity by
realizing itself.”

Because the State is an individuation of human nature, and because

the nature of man is his consciousness and his will, the State can
analogically be said to be consciousness and will. It is therefore
possible to speak of the objective will of all the people who compose
it, that is to say, the will of their human nature.

And this collective will is in a certain way infinite, since it is the

realization of the human will, and this will is by nature made for the
Infinite, for the Universal; indeed, “the will extends to the good
in its universality; for its proper object is the universal
good, just as the object of the intellect is the universal
being” (Summa Theologica, I, 105, 4).

The action of the State — in its own proper order, which is the
natural order — therefore has no “limits.”
 12. Content of the State

“The fascist State, which is the highest and most powerful form of
personality, is a force, but a spiritual force — a force that sums up
all the forms of moral and intellectual life of man. It cannot
therefore be limited to purely order- and protection-related
functions, as liberalism wished. It is not just a mechanical system
that limits the sphere of so-called individual freedoms. It is a form,
an inner rule, and a discipline of the entire being; it penetrates, it
illuminates the intelligence. Its principle — the central inspiration
of human personality living in civil community — penetrates into
the mind of the individual and into the heart of the man of action
as well as of the thinker, the artist, and the scholar: it is the soul of
every soul.’’​
​

“The fascist State, which is the highest and most powerful form of
personality, is a force, but a spiritual force — a force that sums up
all the forms of moral and intellectual life of man.’’​
​
The State, as we have seen, is the most complete realization of
human nature. It is indeed the “perfect community” (Saint Thomas,
De Regno, I, 1); for it is only in the community or common life that
all the latent potentialities of human nature are realized, since man
is essentially social and political; so that the State is the most
perfect realization of human nature.

And consequently, it is also the realization of the human spirit, of

intelligence and of will; it is “the force which sums up all the forms
of moral and intellectual life of man.”

It is the force of collective life, and thereby also of the individual life
of each person, since the latter has value only as understood within
collective life.
 ★​
​
​

“It cannot therefore be limited [the State] to purely order- and

protection-related functions, as liberalism wished. It is not just a
mechanical system that limits the sphere of so-called individual
freedoms.”

Here is precisely what Saint Thomas teaches, that political authority

is responsible for the common good, that is, for the unity of all
members of the political community in virtuous living — and not
simply for the security and material well-being of individuals:

“It is evident that the goal of a multitude is to live according to

virtue; indeed, men come together in order to live well together,
which they cannot achieve if each remains isolated; now, to live well
is to live according to virtue; therefore, the end of human
society is life according to virtue” (De Regno, II, 3); hence the
State is the one that charges itself with the common good of the
City; so that the State must strive to make all citizens virtuous, by all
possible means. The State, one might say, is responsible for the
happiness of its citizens.

We see here the nobility of political authority, which, as the

etymology of the term “authority” indicates, has the mission of
making citizens act virtuously, that is, act according to human
nature, which is rational by nature. This is the role that allows
political individuals to actualize their nature and thereby attain true
happiness.

This is what is also taught by the Magisterium of the Church:

“In order to assure this organic collaboration and this
tranquil harmony [of society], Catholic doctrine claims for
the State dignity and authority” (Pius XI, Divini Redemptoris).

“It is a form, an inner rule, and a discipline of the entire being; it

penetrates both the will and the intellect. Its principle — the central
inspiration of the human personality living in civil community —
penetrates to the innermost depths of the individual […]: it is the
soul of every soul.”​
​
This seems, once again, perfectly in accordance with the teaching of
the Angelic Doctor:

“Just as in each man the soul governs the body […], so

every multitude must have a governing principle” (De
Regno, I, 1); and the governing principle of a national multitude, of
a people, is the political authority, which is called the State: it is
indeed this authority that has charge of the common good.

Thus, the State is like the form or soul of the people, and of
each person insofar as they are a member of the people; it
is, so to speak, ‘the soul of every soul’; it is the soul of
every intelligence and of every will.

The State is, in essence, the inner rule of all the individuals who
compose it, since it embodies their nature, and nature is a rule of
action.

And this is why it not only has the right, but also the duty, to impose
a way of life on all citizens.
 13. Authority

“All in all, fascism is not merely a legislator and founder of

institutions; it is also an educator and promoter of spiritual life. It
seeks to remake not the forms of human life, but its content: man,
character, faith. And to this end, it desires a discipline and an
authority that penetrate minds and reign there without rival. This
is why its emblem is the “fasces of the lictors,” symbol of unity,
strength, and justice.”

“All in all, fascism is not merely a legislator and founder of

institutions; it is also an educator and promoter of spiritual life. It
seeks to remake not the forms of human life, but its content: man,
character, faith.”

The State does not only have a legislative and administrative

purpose; it also has a properly spiritual end. This end is the pursuit
of the common good, which is the unity of the City or of the
community in virtue (since friendship in virtue is truly “friendship,”
for to truly love another is to will his good, and the greatest good for
man is virtue).

And this is why the State has an educational purpose: it must

educate citizens, that is, lead them to the summit of virtue, not only
when they are children — through national education — but also
throughout their lives, through compulsory military service, the
corporative system, and the commitment of all to the service of the
public good, which is the greatest of natural virtues.

“We count as members of the same City only those who,

under the same laws and the same State, are directed
toward a life according to virtue” (Saint Thomas, De Regno, II,
3).
 ★

“Fascism wants to remake not the forms of human life, but its
content: man, character, faith.”

These words have often been interpreted as expressing a

revolutionary will to “create” a “new man” by freeing him from the
laws of nature.

However, in light of what has been said previously, it seems rather

that Gentile, by these words, meant nothing other than to reform
man — that is, to form him as nature has naturally formed him,
contrary to the Revolution which has deformed him.

To reform man is to give him back his character and his

faith, his strength of will, and his belief in a “higher law”
and an “objective will” — that is, in God (I, 5. Religious
conception). Far from being revolutionary, fascism is, in
this sense, profoundly reactionary.

“And to this end, [fascism] wants a discipline and an authority that

penetrate minds and reign there without rival.”

Because authority is necessary to raise all members of a community

to virtue (De Regno, I, 1), fascism wants the State to be
authoritarian — that is, to claim its authority and impose it on
everyone — willingly or by force; so that all individuals obey with
discipline the injunctions of the State, and that they achieve, thanks
to this same State, the unity of the social body and the common
practice of virtue.

And this is why fascism does not hesitate to call itself authoritarian.

“That is why its emblem is the ‘fasces of the lictors,’ symbol of unity,
strength, and justice.”

Unity, strength, justice: these three words sum up well the essence
of fascism.

The fascist State wants to be just, meaning it wants to give each

citizen what is due to him — according to the rule of merit and
demerit — in order to guarantee law.

It also wants to be strong, meaning capable of repressing enemies

within, and waging war against enemies outside, to ensure the order
necessary for the preservation of the City.

Finally, and above all, it wants to be one, by accepting no kind of

“State within the State,” and by gathering all members of the City
into one and the same unity — a unity that leads all citizens, in a
collective spirit of mutual and benevolent emulation, toward the
perfection of virtue.

Now, law, order, and unity of the City are precisely, according to
Saint Thomas, the components of the political Common Good:
“If laws are just or conform to law, they have binding force. […]
Now, we say that laws are just when they are ordered
toward the Common Good.” (Summa Theologica, I-II, 95, 4)

“There are precepts which directly involve the safeguarding of the

Common Good or of order […]; for example, in a City, the
precept forbidding overthrowing the State or handing the city over
to the enemy” (ibid., I-II, 100, 8)

“Sedition is opposed to the unity of the multitude, that is, to the

unity of the people or to the unity of the City. […] Thus,
sedition is opposed to the Common Good” (ibid., II-II, 42, 2).

The fascist State, as a model of justice, strength, and unity, does

nothing other than seek the Common Good.

​
​
​
 Chapter Two

POLITICAL AND
SOCIAL DOCTRINE
(Benito Mussolini)
 1. Against Pacifism: War and Life as a Duty

Above all, fascism — in what concerns, in a general way, the future

and development of humanity, and leaving aside any
consideration of current politics — believes neither in the
possibility nor in the usefulness of perpetual peace. It
rejects pacifism, which hides a flight from struggle and a
cowardice before sacrifice. War alone brings all human
energies to their highest point of tension and leaves a
mark of nobility upon peoples who have the courage to
face it.

All other tests are only secondary and never place man
before himself, in the alternative of life and death.
Consequently, the pacifist doctrine is not the one most suited to
fascism, which does not believe in it — even if it accepts that such
doctrines might have a narrow, practical utility in certain political
circumstances. All international constructions — as history shows
— are swept away when feeling, ideal, or interest stir the
storm in people’s hearts.

The proud motto of the assault units, “Me ne frego” (“I

don’t care”), written on the bandage of a wound, is not
only a profession of stoic philosophy and the summary of a
political doctrine, but also a training in struggle, the
acceptance of the risks it involves; it is a new style of Italian
life.

That is why fascism accepts and loves life, ignores suicide

and sees in it cowardice; that is why it understands life
as a duty, an elevation, a conquest: life must be noble and
full, lived for itself, but above all for others — near and
far, present and future.
“Fascism […] believes neither in the possibility nor in the usefulness
of perpetual peace. It rejects pacifism, which hides a flight from
struggle and a cowardice before sacrifice.”

Fascism does not believe in the possibility of perpetual peace, first

because it is realistic and knows that history is made of wars; next,
because it understands that it is in the very nature of a political
community to seek to universalize itself, even at the price, if
necessary, of the destruction of a neighboring culture; so that man
would probably still be led to wage war even in a state of pure,
non-sinful nature. “The feeling, the ideal, or the interest” of peoples
almost necessarily lead them to war.

Fascism also does not believe in the usefulness of perpetual peace,

because it believes in the goodness of war, as will soon be seen.

It therefore condemns pacifism — which is, at bottom, “a flight from

struggle” and “a cowardice before sacrifice” — because it
understands that struggle is a moral duty for every man: “It is
necessary for the soul to suffer hardships and fight to
attain certain goods or avoid certain evils” (Saint Thomas,
Summa Theologica, I-II, 23, 1), and that self-sacrifice for the City is
a duty of justice for every citizen: “All parts are ordered to the
perfection of the whole: the whole is not for the parts, but
the parts for the whole” (Saint Thomas, Summa contra Gentiles,
III, 112).

★
“War alone brings all human energies to their highest tension and
leaves a mark of nobility on peoples who have the courage to face
it. All other trials are only secondary and never place man face to
face with himself, in the alternative of life and death.”

Fascism knows the goodness of war.

First, it understands — following Saint Thomas — that war is just

when it is commanded by the head of State and aims to repair an
injustice:

“Since the care of public affairs has been entrusted to the heads of
State, it is their role to watch over the public good of the City, the
kingdom, or the province under their authority. Therefore, those
who legitimately defend this public good wield the sword against
troublemakers and criminals; likewise, it belongs to them to defend
the public good with the sword against enemies from outside. […]
It is also required that one attack the enemy for a reason of fairness:
thus, wars are just when injustices must be punished; for example,
to chastise a people or a City that has failed to punish a wrong
committed by its citizens, or to restore what has been unjustly taken
away.” (Summa Theologica, II-II, 40, 1)

War is therefore not an evil in itself, since it can be just. What is evil
is not war, but the disordered passion that sometimes accompanies
it:

“The desire to harm, cruelty in revenge (and not in legitimate

self-defense), violence and inflexibility of spirit, the passion of
pride, and other similar faults are what, in wars between just
peoples, are rightly condemned.” (Saint Augustine, cited by Saint
Thomas in the above article)
But fascism goes further: it understands that war has an essential
goodness, insofar as it is the only trial capable of fully actualizing all
the vitalities of human nature, particularly virtue and strength.

Strength, according to Saint Thomas, has paramount importance: it

is the driving force of moral life, as the virtue par excellence of the
will — which is the principle of moral life.

“Strength, considered as a certain firmness of the soul, is

virtue in general, or rather the general condition of all
virtue” (ibid., II-II, 123, 2).

Saint Thomas even says, following Saint Ambrose, that strength has
a certain relationship to the most important virtue:

“Saint Ambrose says that ‘Strength is like the highest of all

virtues’ […] in terms of common utility, since it is needed
in both domestic life and civic life [which are the main
trials of life]” (ibid., II-II, 123, 12).

Now it is in great trials — and particularly in war, where one risks

one’s life — that strength is manifested:

“Aristotle says that strength is exercised to the utmost

with regard to death in war. Indeed […], strength steels
the human spirit against the greatest dangers, which are
dangers of death. But because strength is a virtue, it
necessarily turns towards good, and it follows that a man
does not flee from danger unless it threatens him with
some evil contrary to good reason. Death is an evil only in
certain cases, namely when it comes from sickness,
shipwreck, or assault by wild beasts or parasites; it is then
directly contrary to the will, which pursues good. But
mortal dangers encountered in war threaten man directly
because of a good — namely, because he defends the
common good.”

“Therefore, it must be affirmed that strength specifically

concerns the mortal dangers one faces in war” (ibid., II-II,
123, 5).

Hence the necessity of the goodness of war for fascism.

“The proud motto of the assault formations: “Me ne frego” (“I don’t
care”), written on the bandage of a wound, is not only a profession
of stoic philosophy […] but also training for struggle, the
acceptance of the risks it entails.”

For the fascist, man would have had to suffer even in a state of pure,
non-sinful nature. He does not see suffering as a consequence in
itself of original sin, but as something natural to man, from which
he was exempt in the earthly paradise only by gratuitous gift:

“The immortality and impassibility of the primitive state

did not depend on the natural conditions of matter, but on
original justice” (Summa Theologica, I, 81, 5).

And since suffering is something natural, imposed on

man, he must therefore endure it stoically.

But fascism also understands that it is necessary for man to fight

against the evils he can overcome, namely those of which he is
himself the origin. And that is why the fascist gives struggle an
essential dimension of life.
If it is true that strength is to sustain, that is to say
patience and perseverance, it is also to attack, that is to
say audacity and struggle.

“fascism accepts and loves life, ignores suicide and sees in it

cowardice; that is why it understands life as a duty, an elevation,
a conquest: life must be noble and full, lived for itself, but above all
for others — near and far, present and future.”

The fascist sees in life above all a duty towards oneself.

And this duty is founded on self-esteem, which is natural and good:

“Everything naturally esteems itself; by the inclination it

strives, according to this sort of innate self-esteem, to
preserve itself in existence, and to resist as much as it can
what might destroy it” (Summa Theologica, II-II, 64, 5).

But since man is endowed with free will, the fascist understands
that the true dignity of man lies in the rectitude of moral action, that
is to say, in the uprightness of acting, in honor. That is also why the
fascist sees in life a conquest: precisely, the conquest of his moral
dignity, of his honor. Fascism sees in the man of honor the fully
accomplished man.

As a reminder, honor, according to Saint Thomas, is something

entirely laudable: it is the rectitude of will, the inner state of one
who has always acted virtuously:
“External conduct is honorable when it reflects inner
rectitude. Thus, honor lies radically in inner choice, even
if it is signified in outward conduct” (ibid., II-II, 145, 1).

Therefore, since preserving oneself in existence is a duty towards

oneself, and since honor consists in preserving moral dignity, it
follows that the man of honor must always strive to remain alive.

But the fascist also sees in life a duty of justice towards others,
towards political society.

For the life of the citizen as a citizen must be lived in the service of
the State:

“The whole man is ordered as to his end to the entire community of

which he is a part” (ibid., II-II, 65).

That is why fascism despises suicide, in which it sees nothing but

cowardice towards oneself, and also a betrayal towards society.

First, cowardice, dishonor:

“Everything naturally esteems itself; by the inclination it strives,

according to this sort of innate self-esteem, to preserve itself in
existence, and to resist as much as it can what might destroy it.”

That is why suicide goes against this tendency of nature,

against self-esteem, which consists in preserving oneself.

Second, injustice towards society: injustice occurs when man

refuses the duty that comes to him from his belonging to the society
of which he is a member. By committing suicide, man makes
himself guilty of injustice towards the society to which he
belongs (ibid., II-II, 64, 5).
One sees here, once again, the agreement of fascism and Thomism,
which are both a “philosophy of life”
 2. Demographic Policy and Our “Neighbor”

“The Regime’s “demographic” policy is the consequence of these

premises. The fascist loves his “neighbor,” but this
“neighbor” is not for him a vague and elusive idea: “love
of neighbor” does not eliminate either the necessary
educational strictness nor, even more so, distinctions and
distances. The fascist rejects universal embraces; and,
while living within the community of civilized peoples, he looks
them in the eyes with attention and mistrust, follows them in their
states of mind and in the evolution of their interests; he does not let
himself be deceived by shifting and misleading appearances.”

“The fascist loves his ‘neighbor,’ but this ‘neighbor’ is not for him a
vague and elusive idea: ‘love of neighbor’ does not eliminate either
the necessary educational strictness nor, even more so, distinctions
and distances.”

The fascist loves his neighbor, that is to say, he loves other

men—not insofar as they are others, but insofar as they are men, in
that they share the same human nature.

However, this love is not irrational: it remains consistent with the

requirements of the natural order. Consequently, the fascist loves
all men, but he first loves those who are close to him, particularly
through ties of family, work, and homeland. He loves his wife and
children before his neighbors, his neighbors before strangers,
strangers belonging to his own City before strangers originating
from another City, etc. He understands that his own naturally come
before others, and there can be no disordered charity.

Furthermore, love of neighbor, which is embodied in gentleness,

must conform to the requirements of justice, that is, to the rule of
merit and demerit. And Saint Thomas says nothing else:

“Mercy does not suppress justice; but it is, in a certain

way, the fullness of justice” (Summa Theologica, I, 21, 3).

If mercy does not suppress justice, this means that for the exercise
of mercy to be good, it is necessary to respect the order of justice.
Therefore, “love of neighbor” does not eliminate either the
necessary educational strictness nor, even more so, distinctions and
distances.

“The fascist rejects universal embraces.”

If fascism is an idea of unity and political friendship, it nevertheless

rejects the—Masonic—idea of a universal fraternity that would
abolish all distinctions of sex, social condition, nationality, culture,
religion, intelligence, or merit.

He considers that the only truly possible friendship is that between

the members of the same City, and, at most, that between members
of the same empire, when it is composed of several Cities sharing
objectively the same culture, the same language, and the same
religion—for the two are inseparable.

Reason also teaches that one can only truly love someone when one
shares with them a large number of things. Common sense confirms
it: like attracts like. There is no possible friendship without a true
unity of hearts and lives.

Authentic friendship is

“consensio rerum humanarum et divinarum cum

benevolentia et caritate”
(Cicero, De Republica),
that is, unity of understanding in human and divine matters, with
goodwill (love of the will) and charity (love of the heart).
 3. Against Historical Materialism and the Class Struggle

“Such a conception of life makes fascism the absolute

negation of that doctrine which constituted the basis of
pseudoscientific or Marxist socialism: the doctrine of
historical materialism, according to which the history of
human civilization can be explained only by the struggles
of interests between different social groups and by the
transformation of the means and instruments of
production. No one would think of denying that economic facts
— discoveries of raw materials, new methods of work, scientific
inventions — have their importance. But to claim that they are
sufficient to explain human history, to the exclusion of all other
factors, is absurd: fascism still believes in sanctity and in
heroism, that is to say, in actions in which no economic
motive, near or distant, plays any part.

The doctrine of historical materialism, according to which men in

history are nothing but figures acting and disappearing according
to the true directing forces, leads to the negation of the permanent
and ineluctable class struggle, the natural consequence of the
economic conception of history, and above all to the negation
of the class struggle considered as the predominant
factor of social transformations. Once socialism has been
struck at these two fundamental principles of its doctrine, nothing
remains but the sentimental aspiration — as old as humanity — for
a social order in which the sufferings and pains of the most humble
are to be alleviated.

But here, fascism rejects the idea of “economic”

happiness, which would be realized socially and almost
automatically at a given moment in the evolution of the
economy, by assuring everyone the maximum of
well-being. Fascism rejects the materialist conception of a
possible “happiness” and abandons it to the economists of the first
half of the eighteenth century; and it therefore denies the
equation well-being = happiness, which would transform
men into animals thinking only of one thing: being fed and
fattened, that is to say, reduced to a purely and simply vegetative
life.”

“Such a conception of life makes fascism the absolute negation of

that doctrine which constituted the basis of pseudoscientific or
Marxist socialism: the doctrine of historical materialism,
according to which the history of human civilization can be
explained only by the struggles of interests between different social
groups and by the transformation of the means and instruments of
production.”

Thus, fascism is the negation of the class struggle conceived as the

determining factor of social transformations. Because fascism is
spiritualist, it opposes the view that history is nothing but the
history of class struggle, or that it should be interpreted according
to the economic laws that supposedly govern the development of the
means and instruments of production. This clearly places fascism
on the side of Catholic doctrine.

As a reminder, here is what Pius XI said in Divini Redemptoris

about communism:

“This peril was threatening, you have already understood,

Venerable Brothers, it is Bolshevik and atheistic communism, which
seeks to overthrow order and undermine its very foundations in
Christian civilization. […]
Modern communism, in a way more evident than similar
movements of the past, conceals under the appearance of a false
redemption a pseudo-ideal of justice, equality, and fraternity in
labor, which saturates the minds of the masses with its slogans and
a certain mystical allure. It offers seductive but deceitful promises,
spreading contagious enthusiasm, especially in a time when, we
note, because of a bad economic situation, abnormal misery reigns
among the people in the midst of an abundance of goods in this
world. […]”

“The doctrine that communism hides under appearances sometimes

so seductive has for its foundation the principles of Marx, the
dialectical and historical materialism already advocated by Marx;
the theorists of Bolshevism claim to possess a unique interpretation
of life: there exists only one reality, matter, which evolves according
to the laws of nature through the force of blind elements; plant,
animal, man himself are nothing other than forms of matter that
evolve in this way. They deny the existence of the spirit, of the soul,
and therefore of all moral value, reducing everything to a mere
phenomenon of matter that evolves in a perpetual flow of forces,
toward the final synthesis: a society without classes. […]”

This communism is intrinsically perverse.

“Fascism still believes in sanctity and in heroism, that is to say, in

actions in which no economic motive, near or distant, plays any
part.”

Because fascism believes in the reality of the spirit, it believes in

heroism and in sanctity — that is to say, in a life surpassing
material, vegetative, and animal life, and devoted to the service of a
higher ideal — whether that ideal be natural or supernatural,
political or religious.

A higher ideal which, for the fascist, is an ideal of strength and

devotion, an ideal of virtue: “The ideal of dignity is linked to
virtue” (Saint Thomas, Summa Theologica, II-II, 168, 1).
 ★

“Fascism rejects the idea of “economic” happiness, which would be

realized socially and almost automatically at a given moment in
the evolution of the economy, by assuring everyone the maximum
of well-being.”

Because fascism is spiritualist, it does not believe in happiness in

this earthly life, but only in the happiness of the soul after death.
And this is the reason why it rejects all utopias that would seek to
establish a sort of “earthly paradise.”

“It [fascism] therefore denies the equation well-being = happiness,

which would transform men into animals.”

Because fascism is spiritualist, because it considers man as superior

to animals, it does not believe that human happiness can consist in
the pleasure of the flesh or in material comfort. “The perfect
blessedness of man cannot depend on the body” (Summa
Theologica, I-II, 4, 5).

For the fascist, the only possible happiness is that of the spirit freed
from the constraints of matter.
 4. Against Democratic Ideologies

After socialism, fascism undermines the whole set of

democratic ideologies and rejects them, both in their
theoretical premises and in their practical applications.
Fascism denies that the multitude, by the sole fact of being the
multitude, can direct human society; it denies that this multitude
can govern by means of a periodic consultation; it affirms the
irremediable, fertile, and beneficent inequality of men,
who cannot become equal by a mechanical and extrinsic fact such
as universal suffrage.

Thus one may define democratic regimes: those in which, from

time to time, the people are given the illusion of sovereignty,
whereas true and effective sovereignty resides in other forces,
sometimes irresponsible and secret. Democracy is a regime
without a king, but with very many kings, sometimes
more exclusive, more tyrannical, and more ruinous than
a single king who would be a tyrant.

This explains why fascism, which up until 1922 — for contingent

reasons — had shown republican tendencies, renounced them
before the March on Rome, convinced that the question of the
political forms of a State is not, today, essential, and that the study
of past and present monarchies, of past and present republics,
demonstrates that monarchy and republic should not be
judged sub specie aeternitatis but represent forms in
which manifest the political evolution, history, tradition,
and psychology of a given country.

Now, fascism rises above the antithesis

monarchy–republic, upon which democracy has
lingered, charging the first with every insufficiency and
presenting the second as a regime of perfection, whereas
one has seen profoundly reactionary and absolutist republics, and
monarchies admitting the boldest political and social experiments.

“Fascism undermines the whole set of democratic ideologies and

rejects them, both in their theoretical premises and in their
practical applications.”

Fascism opposes the whole set of modern democratic ideologies, for

they are all founded on the same doctrine, namely theoretical
individualism, or the theory of the Social Contract — according to
which individuals are not naturally political, but have come together
in society only for individual interest.

Fascism, on the contrary, affirms that man is “by nature a

political animal” (Aristotle, Politics, I, 2).

And in this, it conforms well to the teaching of Saint Thomas, who

— against Augustinianism, according to which political society
would be a consequence of original sin, essentially punitive in
vocation — strongly affirms the political nature of man:

“For the other animals [than man], nature has prepared food,
covering of fur, means of defense such as horns, teeth, claws, or
speed in flight; man, on the contrary, is created without any of these
things being supplied to him by nature; in exchange, he has been
provided with reason, which enables him to achieve all these things
with the help of his hands. But since what one man alone can
prepare does not suffice for all, and he cannot provide entirely for
his own existence, it follows that it is natural for man to live
in society.

Moreover, among other animals there is implanted a natural faculty

to discern what is useful or harmful to them; the sheep naturally
perceives in the wolf an enemy; likewise, by a natural faculty, some
animals know healing plants and all their means of subsistence.
Man, however, has by nature only a very general knowledge of his
means of existence; by reason, he can reach knowledge of the
particular things necessary to human life through reasoning from
the principles of nature. But since a single individual cannot achieve
this in its entirety, it is necessary for men to live together in
order to help each other and specialize in diverse studies according
to the diversity of their talents: one in medicine, another in this,
another again in that.”

“Since it is fitting for man to live in society, given that, solitary, he

would not suffice for his existence, a society will be all the more
perfect the more it suffices for itself in the needs of life. A family
alone, confined to a single domain, does indeed provide some
sufficiency for vital needs, namely those relating to natural acts of
nutrition, generation, and similar functions; a single city will suffice
for itself in a single craft; but only the City, which is the
perfect community, will suffice for itself in all the needs of
life, and even more so the province [or union of several Cities],
because it could alone provide for the need of mutual assistance in
resistance against enemies” (De Regno, I, 1).

Thus fascism considers as a certain truth that “man is by nature a

political animal,” and, therefore, that it is natural for him to belong
to a family, to intermediary bodies, and to a City or a State.

“We must begin with man and move through his organic units, and
thus we shall raise man to the family, from the family to the city and
the syndicate, and we shall end in the State which will be the
harmony of the whole” (José Antonio Primo de Rivera, Textos de
doctrina política).

Fascism therefore rejects the theory of the Social Contract. And with
it, the democratic ideology that logically derives from it, as well as
all its practical consequences, such as the electoral system and the
referendum.

“Fascism denies that the multitude, by the sole fact of being the
multitude, can direct human society.”

Indeed, because the government of a community has as its end the

assurance of the unity of common action, and since one cannot give
what one does not have, it follows that the multitude cannot govern.

And Saint Thomas says nothing other than this:

“If it is necessary for man to live in society, it follows that
it is also necessary that among men there be some
principle of direction of the multitude. For, men being
numerous, and each providing for his own particular
interest, their society would fall apart if there were not
some principle providing for the good of this multitude;
just as the body of man or of any animal whatsoever would
disintegrate if there were not in this body some directive
force common to all, tending to the common good of all
the members. […] Every multitude must therefore have a
directive principle.” (De Regno, I, 1).

Thus, fascism rejects the democratic ideology which would have the
multitude as such govern public affairs.

★
“Fascism affirms the irremediable, fertile, and beneficent
inequality of men.”

In opposition to all democratic and egalitarian conceptions, fascism

wishes to be fundamentally anti-egalitarian. It holds that inequality
among men is natural, by necessity, and moreover useful and good.

Some Catholics may perhaps be scandalized to hear such things. Or

else, while admitting the actual inequality of men, they will affirm —
with Saint Gregory (“where we have not committed a fault, we are
all equal”) — that inequality is a consequence of original sin.

But the opinion of Saint Thomas is quite different, for whom

inequality is a fact of nature:

“It is therefore necessary that there was in the primitive state [that
is, in the state before original sin] a certain inequality, first as to sex,
for without the difference of sex there would not have been
generation; likewise for age; likewise in this state, some men were
begotten by others, and those who united carnally were not sterile.

“But even with regard to the soul there would have been
differences, as to knowledge, and even as to justice;
indeed, man does not act by necessity, but by virtue of his
free will; now, by virtue of this, man has the power to
apply his mind more or less to doing, to willing, or to
knowing something. Thus, some would have made more
progress than others in knowledge and in justice.

“On the side of the body there would also have been
inequalities. For the body was not entirely freed from the
laws of nature and of corruptibility: men would not have
failed to receive more or fewer advantages and
disadvantages from exterior factors, since their life also
depended on the use of food. And it can be said that,
according to the different dispositions of the air, or of the
stars, some would have been begotten more vigorous of
body than others, taller, more beautiful, with a better
complexion.” (Summa Theologica, I, 96, 3).

Thus, it is in the intentio naturae that there be inequality of

intelligence, of virtue, and of strength among men.

Now, insofar as inequality is a fact of nature, it must be added that

the domination of man over man is also natural — against Saint
Augustine (“God wanted man, a reasonable being, made in His
image, not to dominate man, but only the beast”) — and that this
domination is therefore something entirely just.

Here is how Aristotle justifies the domination of man over man in

his Politics:

“Authority and obedience are not only necessary things;

they are also good things. Some beings, at the very
moment of their birth, are destined, some to obey, others
to command, well before there are as many nuances and
varieties for some as for others.” (I, 2. De l’esclavage).

And here is how Saint Thomas, following Aristotle, justified his

view:

“The domination of man over man would have existed in

the state of innocence for two reasons. First, because man
is by nature a political animal, so much so that even in the
state of innocence men would have had a political life. But
the political life of a multitude could not exist without a
leader who seeks the common good; for several people
necessarily seek several ends, but only one seeks a single
end. This is what makes Aristotle say: ‘Every time several
elements are ordered to a single end, one always finds one
who takes the lead and directs.’

The second reason is that if a man had been superior to

another in knowledge and in justice, he would have had to
employ this superiority in the service of others. In this
sense, it is written: ‘Each of you, according to the grace
received, put yourselves at the service of others’ (1 Peter
4:10).”
(Summa Theologica, I, 96, 4).

Thus, the strongest, the most intelligent, and the most virtuous are,
by nature, called to rule over others, for their own good.

“It is false that all men have the same rights in civil society
and that there does not exist legitimate hierarchy.”
(Pius XI, Divini Redemptoris).

And fascism says nothing other than this.

“Democracy is a regime without a king, but with very many kings,

sometimes more exclusive, more tyrannical, and more ruinous
than a single king who would be a tyrant.”

A tyrant is he who, being—fully or partially—sovereign, does not

seek the political common good but only his own particular good.
Now, democracy is the regime in which all individuals hold a share
of sovereignty, each seeking his own private interest. A democratic
society—in the Aristotelian sense of the term—is therefore, by
nature, a society of tyrants.
This is what Saint Thomas means when he says that “in a
democratic regime […] the people is like a single tyrant”
(De Regno, I, 1). It is also in this sense that Étienne Gilson defines
democracy as “the tyranny of the crowd” (Thomas Aquinas:
Texts on Morality), and Claude Polin as “the tyranny of all over
all” (Totalitarianism).

A democracy understood in this way is, therefore, a regime where

each individual is a sovereign tyrant, caring only for his private
interest, whereas true kings are called to govern for the good of
society as a whole.

“monarchy and republic should not be judged sub specie

aeternitatis but represent forms in which manifest the political
evolution, history, tradition, and psychology of a given country.”

At once against the “republicans,” who make the republic—or the

government of the citizens—the only acceptable regime, and against
the “monarchists,” who make monarchy—that is, the government of
one alone—the only good regime, fascism considers that monarchy
and republic are neutral regimes, which therefore can only be
judged according to concrete circumstances: to such a City a
republic may be more fitting, to another a monarchy; to such an
epoch the government of the citizens may be possible, to another
epoch the government of one alone may be necessary. Fascism is
not an ideology, but a deep pragmatism.

For the fascist, a regime is good insofar as it pursues the common

good, whether that regime be a monarchy or a republic.

Now, Aristotle said nothing different:

“When the government of one alone has as its object the common
good, it is called monarchy, or commonly kingship. […] And when a
great number govern in the sense of the common good, the
government receives as its specific denomination the generic name
of all governments, and is called republic.” (Politics, III, 5).

And Saint Thomas takes up the same distinction in De Regno (I, 1).

Here again, one sees the agreement between Thomism and fascism,
which both make the common good the only absolute in politics.

“fascism rises above the antithesis monarchy–republic, upon

which democracy has lingered, charging the first with every
insufficiency and presenting the second as a regime of perfection”

Fascism rises above the monarchy-republic antithesis precisely

because it does not conceive these two regimes as contradictory, as
if one were good and the other bad. Rather, it understands that both
regimes can be good, so long as they pursue the common good.

Thus, it opposes itself to the democratic ideology, which makes the

republic—or the government of the citizens—the only acceptable
regime, and monarchy an essentially bad regime.

On the contrary, fascism aims to be, in this sense, a “synthesis” of

monarchy and republic—as will be seen later (II, 5)—insofar as it
seeks to integrate both the advantages of monarchy (authority,
institutional stability) and those of the republic (organic unity, spirit
of initiative), in order to better assure the unity of the City, which is
its common good.
And—as will also be seen—this synthesis of monarchy and republic,
which fascism wants to incarnate, in fact corresponds to “the best
form of government” according to Saint Thomas (Summa
Theologica, I–II, 105, 1).
 5. The Lies of Democracy

“Reason, science,” said Renan (who had some pre-fascist insights)

in one of his Philosophical Dialogues, “are products of
humanity; but to want reason directly for the people and
by the people is chimerical. It is not necessary, for the full
existence of reason, that the entire world perceives it. In any case,
such an initiation, if it were to take place, could not come through
low democracy, which seems rather bound to bring about the
extinction of all difficult culture and all higher discipline… The
principle that society exists only for the well-being and
freedom of the individuals who compose it does not seem
in conformity with the plans of nature, plans in which
only the species is taken into consideration and the
individual seems sacrificed. One may strongly fear that the
ultimate word of democracy, thus understood (I hasten to say that
it can be understood otherwise), is nothing other than a social state
in which a degenerate mass would have no other concern than to
indulge in the ignoble pleasures of vulgar man.”

“Thus speaks Renan. Fascism rejects, in democracy, the absurd

conventional lie of political equality, the spirit of collective
irresponsibility, and the myth of infinite happiness and progress.

But, if democracy were to be understood differently—that is, if

democracy meant not to exclude the people from the
State—then fascism could be defined, as the author of this
book has done, as “organized, centralized, authoritarian
democracy.”

Thus, fascism is opposed to democracy.

Let us recall that both Aristotle and Saint Thomas Aquinas classify
democracy among degenerate regimes.
Let us quote Aristotle when he sets out the different forms of
government:

“When the government of one alone has as its object the Common
Good, we call it monarchy, or commonly kingship. Under the same
condition, the government of a few, provided it is not reduced to a
single individual, is called aristocracy […]. Finally, when a large
number govern in the sense of the Common Good, the government
receives the special denomination of polity among all governments,
and is named polity (politeia in Greek). […] The perversions of
these governments are: tyranny for monarchy; oligarchy for
aristocracy; and for polity, democracy. Tyranny is the
government for the good of the ruler; oligarchy for the interest of
the rich; democracy has as its object the interest of the
members of the people. None of these governments has in
view the Common Good of the City.”
(Politics, III, 5)

Saint Thomas says nothing else:

“If an unjust rule is exercised by many, it is called

democracy, that is to say, the power of the people, when
indeed the people oppress the rich by the force of the multitude.
Thus, if the whole people were as tyrannical as one single man, the
entire people would be like a single tyrant.”
(De Regno, I, 1)

Some will say this is playing with words, that Aristotle and Saint
Thomas did not understand the same thing we moderns mean by
“democracy.”

But names are not what matter: if “democracy” meant the

domination or power of the people, and if these two authors
condemned it, it was simply because power exercised by the
formless multitude of the people was unacceptable to them.
Indeed, in democracy, the members of the people pursue only their
private interests, without regard for the Common Good of the City.
Now, it is one thing to pursue one’s own particular good, another to
seek the Common Good; for a whole is not reducible to the sum of
its parts.

The Common Good is not reducible to the sum of particular goods.

As for the form of government in which a great number governs,

Saint Thomas, following Aristotle, calls it “polity”:

“If the government is exercised by a great number of

citizens, it receives the common name of polity (politia in
Latin); it is the case when the army exercises power in the
City or the province.”
(De Regno, I, 1)

In such a regime, explains Saint Thomas (Politics, III, 16), the

citizens do not govern in an anonymous and egalitarian way, but
hierarchically and corporatively (each citizen is a member of the
City through the intermediary of the communities to which he
belongs).

We should note in passing that the example of polity given by Saint

Thomas is nothing other than a military government…; this is very
far from egalitarian democracy as it is understood today. And if the
holy Doctor considers the power of a large number such as that of
the army, it is for the following reason:

“It is very difficult that those who reach perfection in

virtue should be numerous; except with regard to the
virtue of soldiers (the virtue of strength), where it is
possible that a great number may excel.”
(ibid., III, 16, 393)
Thus, what Mussolini calls “organized, centralized, authoritarian
democracy” is nothing other than Thomistic polity.

“to want reason directly for the people and by the people is
chimerical.” affirms Mussolini following Renan.

The doctrine of popular sovereignty, which would have all members

of the people possess the wisdom and virtue necessary for the
exercise of power, is indeed nothing but fiction.

“It is easy to find in the City one person or a few who far
surpass the others in virtue; but it is extremely difficult to
find many who attain the perfection of virtue.” (Politics, III,
16, 393).

And it is rigorously impossible that all members of the people

possess the virtues necessary for the exercise of power and the
pursuit of the Common Good — namely, prudence and justice;
democracy, in principle, entrusts power to the irresponsible.

Let us note in passing that the doctrine of popular sovereignty,

according to which authority would reside primarily in the people,
was formally condemned by the Holy Church because of its
opposition to Catholic doctrine: let us cite Saint Pius X, in his letter
on Le Sillon:

“In politics, the Sillon does not abolish authority; it esteems it, on
the contrary, necessary; but it wishes to share it, or, to put it better,
to multiply it in such a way that every citizen will become a kind of
king. Authority, it is true, would emanate from God, but it would
reside primarily in the people, and would disengage from them by
way of election or, better still, selection, without for all that the
people abandoning it and becoming independent of it; it would be
exterior to them only in appearance; in reality, it would be interior,
because it would be a consented authority. […] Thus the Sillon
places primarily political authority in the people, from which it then
derives to the rulers, in such a way, however, that it continues to
reside in them.

Now, Leo XIII formally condemned this doctrine in his

Encyclical Diuturnum illud on Political Authority, where
he says: ‘Modern men in great number […] declare that all
authority comes from the people; that in consequence
those who exercise power in society do not exercise their
own authority, but one delegated to them by the people;
whence it follows that society is free from its own
authority as it pleases; and that authority is nothing other
than the will of the people, so that the people is able to
revoke what it has given at its pleasure. On the contrary,
the opinion of Catholics is that the right to govern comes
from God, as from its natural and necessary principle.’

Without doubt, the Sillon makes this authority descend from God,
but it places it first in the people, in such a way that, to use its own
expression: ‘it rises again from below to go above, whereas, in the
organization of the Church, power descends from above to go
below’” (Marc Sangnier, Discourse of Rouen, 1907, cited by Pius X).

“But besides the fact that it is abnormal that delegation should

ascend, since it is of its nature to descend, Leo XIII had already
refuted this attempt to reconcile Catholic doctrine with the error of
democratism. For he continues: ‘It is important to remark here:
those who preside over the government of the public thing
may indeed, in certain cases, be elected by the will and the
judgment of a great number, without repugnance and
without opposition to Catholic doctrine. But if this choice
designates the ruler, it does not give him the power to
govern […], but it designates the person in whom this
power will be invested.’”

“The principle that society exists only for the well-being and
freedom of the individuals who compose it does not seem in
conformity with the plans of nature, plans in which only the
species is taken into consideration and the individual seems
sacrificed.” recalls Mussolini, citing Renan.

This affirmation is entirely in conformity with the principle of

totality, so dear to Saint Thomas. “All the parts are ordained to
the perfection of the whole: the whole is not for the parts,
but the parts for the whole” (Summa contra Gentiles, III, 112).
Indeed, the hand is made for the body and not the reverse; thus it
naturally protects it if attacked. Likewise, the bee is at the service of
the hive, to the point that it is ready to die for it. And if the part
naturally sacrifices itself for the whole, it is proof that it is made for
it.

Now, the individual is to political society what the part is to the

whole, since he is by nature a member of it. Therefore, “the whole
man is ordered as to his end to the whole community of
which he is a part” (Saint Thomas, Summa Theologica, II-II, 65);
the City is not for the citizens, but the citizens for the City.

Furthermore, “the good of the part is for the good of the

whole” (ibid., I-II, 109, 3), since the part is for the whole. Hence it
follows that all the particular goods of individuals are ordered to the
Common Good of the Totality.
The Common Good is indeed better than particular goods. And it “is
better, not inasmuch as it would comprehend the singular good of
all singulars — it would then not have the unity of the Common
Good insofar as this is in some way universal; it would be a mere
collection, it would not be materially better. “The Common Good
is better for each of the particulars who participate in it,
insofar as it is communicable to other particulars: its
communicability is of the very essence of its perfection”
(Charles De Koninck, On the Primacy of the Common Good against
the Personalists, I).

Thus, the City is made to pursue the Common Good, and not to
guarantee the well-being — that is to say, the material happiness —
of the liberty of individuals. Hence it has the right to demand
sacrifices if necessary, as the Common Good requires it, since the
particular goods are ordered to the Common Good.

“if democracy meant not to exclude the people from the State—then
fascism could be defined, as the author of this book has done, as
“organized, centralized, authoritarian democracy.’’

Fascism, which is entirely opposed to egalitarian democracy, cannot

however accept an absolute monarchy where citizens would be
entirely excluded from participation in public affairs.

Here again, it joins the teaching of Saint Thomas: “Two points must
be observed in the good organization of a City or a nation. First, it
is necessary that all the people participate more or less in
government, for, as the second book of the Politics says, this is a
guarantee of civil peace, and all cherish and support such a state of
affairs. The other point concerns the form of government and the
organization of powers: it is known that there are several, distinct
according to Aristotle, but the most remarkable is monarchy, or
the rule of a single one over all, and after this aristocracy, that
is, the government of the best, or domination of a few chosen by
virtue. Wherever another form of government is found for a
City or a kingdom, with a head placed above all, by reason of
his virtue, having authority over all; then a certain number of
subordinate chiefs, qualified by their virtue; and yet the
multitude is not estranged from the power thus defined,
since all have the possibility of being elected” (Summa
Theologica, I-II, 105, 1).

Thus, the best political regime is one that can reconcile the
authority of the Chief and the organicity of the Whole.

It must rest on the authority of one Chief, for the common good
consists in the unity of the City (De Regno, I, 2), and only one
authority can pursue the common good in the unity of the City.

At the same time, it is a regime that must ensure the organicity of

the Whole, meaning the fact that all citizens take part, in one way or
another, in public affairs, so that no one maintains his life apart
from the whole, and so that no one perishes without the whole
perishing with him, and no part disappears without the whole being
diminished.

Thus the regime appears as a fortunate mixture of

monarchy, by the preeminence of one; of aristocracy, by the
participation of subordinate chiefs qualified by virtue; and of
republic finally, or of a popular regime, by the fact that
ordinary citizens can be chosen as chiefs (ibid.).

It should be noted here that when Saint Thomas speaks of

monarchy and aristocracy, he is not at all speaking necessarily of
hereditary regimes: by monarchy, he simply means government by
one man alone, whether king or emperor, Prime Minister or
dictator, Duce or Guide; and by aristocracy, he means the power of
the most virtuous, which, far from feudalism, remains no less
submissive to the unique Chief.

As for the republic of which he speaks, it has nothing in common

with the republic as conceived by Enlightenment philosophers; it is
simply the regime where all citizens participate, in one way or
another, in public affairs.

Thus, the regime advocated by Saint Thomas is in short an organic

“mono-archia,” or, considered in another sense, an authoritarian
“res-publica.”

Now, this is precisely what Mussolini advocates, who considers the

fascist regime as an “organized, centralized, authoritarian
democracy,” while excluding any form of egalitarianism, and
making of the Chief — the “Duce” — the only true sovereign, that is,
the sole holder of authority, of the entire political community.

And if fascism aspires to this “synthesis” of authoritarianism and

organicism, it is because it desires nothing other than the Common
Good of the City, which requires these two elements since it consists
in the unity of the Whole.

“Fascism is not a tactic — violence —; it is an idea: unity”

(José Antonio Primo de Rivera, Textos de doctrina política).
 6. Against Liberal Doctrines

With respect to liberal doctrines, fascism is in a state of absolute

opposition, both in the political domain and in the economic
domain. One must not exaggerate — for simple reasons of
present-day polemic — the importance of liberalism in the last
century, and, when it was but one of many doctrines that arose in
that century, make it into a religion of humanity for all present
and future times. Liberalism had only a few moments of favor. It
was born in 1830, as a reaction against the Holy Alliance, which
wanted to bring Europe back to the principles of 1789, and it
experienced a moment of splendor in 1848, when even Pius IX
declared himself a liberal. Immediately afterwards, however,
began its decline. If 1848 was a year of light and hope, 1849 was a
year of darkness and tragedy. From then on, liberalism was only
able to give birth to a single republic, the French Republic. That
same year, Marx launched the gospel of the socialist religion in his
famous Communist Manifesto.

In 1851, Napoleon III staged his anti-liberal coup d’état and

reigned over France until 1870. He was overthrown by a popular
movement, following one of the most shameful military defeats in
history. The victor was Bismarck, who always held to the religion
of liberty and its prophets. It is symptomatic that a people of high
civilization, like the German people, completely ignored,
throughout the 19th century, the religion of liberty.

There was only one parenthesis, represented by what has been

called the “ridiculous parliament of Frankfurt,” which lasted only a
year. Germany achieved its national unity beyond liberalism,
against liberalism, a doctrine that seems foreign to the German
spirit, even contrary to it. And if the liberals claimed that
liberalism is the historical anticipation or the logical equivalent of
anarchy, the stages of German unity are the three wars of 1864,
1866, and 1870, carried out by “liberals” like Moltke and Bismarck.
As for Italian unity, liberalism played only a secondary role
compared to the contribution of Mazzini and Garibaldi, who were
not liberals. Without the intervention of the anti-liberal Napoleon,
we would not have had Lombardy; and without the help of the
anti-liberal Bismarck at Sadowa and Sedan, it is very probable
that we would not have had Venice in 1866, and in 1870 we would
not have entered Rome.

During the period 1870–1915, liberalism itself sank into decadence,

its very creed collapsing. In literature, it was beaten down; in
practice, by activism.

Activism: that is nationalism, futurism, fascism. The so-called

“liberal” century (that is to say, the 19th) after having accumulated
an infinity of theoretical knots, found itself defeated by the
hecatomb of the World War. But what strange religion is one that
sacrifices itself in battle? Were the gods of liberalism thirsty for
blood? Now, after twenty years of this sacrifice, liberalism has
been driven from the world. Liberalism means, in politics,
individualism; in economics, it means agnosticism toward the
State; that is, indifference toward the State itself, reduced to the
functions of a night-watchman, entrusted only with the task of
registering births and deaths. This is why liberalism is a word
devoid of meaning in all modern political languages. The world is
turning its back on the doctrines of the 19th century, on liberalism,
which is no longer even defended by its professors, as if liberalism
were the supreme and incomparable word of civilization.

We will make here only one comment — since the greater part of
this text is more historical than philosophical — namely: that one
cannot actually find anything more opposed to liberalism, and to
democracy which logically goes hand in hand with it, than fascism.

“Fascism, in its concrete realization, is nothing other than

the economic-political reaction against democratic
liberalism; a reaction that can be healthy, and even
Catholic, depending on the environment in which it
develops.” (abbé Julio Meinveille, Conception catholique de la
politique).

A healthy reaction, that is to say, one that is in conformity with the

requirements of the natural order, of the principles of Thomist
philosophy — or realist — and of morality.
Catholic, that is to say, in conformity with the requirements of the
supernatural order, of Charity.
 7. Fascism Does Not Go Backwards

The fascist negations of socialism, democracy, and

liberalism must not, however, lead one to believe that
fascism intends to bring the world back to what it was
before 1789, the date considered as the inauguration of the
liberal-democratic century. One does not go backwards. Fascist
doctrine did not choose de Maistre as a prophet.
Monarchic absolutism belongs to the past, just as
ecclesiolatry, feudal privileges, or closed caste systems
with sealed barriers. The fascist idea of authority has nothing
to do with the police state.

A party that governs a nation “totalitarianly” is

something new in history. Parallels and comparisons are
impossible. From the ruins of liberal, socialist, and democratic
doctrines, fascism extracts the elements that still retain vital value.
It preserves what one might call the acquired facts of
history; but it rejects all the rest, that is, the idea of a
doctrine good for all times and for all peoples. By
admitting that the 19th century was the century of socialism,
liberalism, democracy, it does not follow that the 20th century
must likewise be the century of socialism, liberalism, and
democracy. Political doctrines pass, peoples remain.

One may think that the current century is the century of authority,
of the “right,” a fascist century; and that, if the 19th century was
the century of the individual (liberalism meaning individualism),
one may think that the 20th century is the century of the
“collective,” and therefore, the century of the State. It is perfectly
logical that a new doctrine might use the elements still vital from
other doctrines.

No doctrine can claim an “absolute” originality. It is

linked, at least historically, to past doctrines, to future doctrines.
Thus socialism is linked to the utopian socialism of Fourier, Owen,
Saint-Simon; thus the liberalism of the 19th century is connected to
the movement of the “enlightened” of the 18th century, and
democratic doctrines are tied to the Encyclopédie.

Doctrine tends to direct human activity toward a

determined goal; but human activity reacts on doctrine,
transforms it, adapts it to new needs or disasters. Doctrine
itself must therefore be not a rigid truth, but a work in progress.
From this comes the pragmatic character of fascism, its
willingness to live, its will to exist, its position regarding
“violence” and its value.

“The fascist negations of socialism, democracy, and liberalism

must not, however, lead one to believe that fascism intends to
bring the world back to what it was before 1789 [...] Fascist
doctrine did not choose de Maistre as a prophet. Monarchic
absolutism belongs to the past, just as ecclesiolatry, feudal
privileges, or closed caste systems with sealed barriers.”

This will certainly not please the legitimists and other nostalgics of
the Ancien Régime.

But let us be clear: fascism by no means approves of the Revolution

that destroyed the natural order; on the contrary, it firmly
condemns it, and it rejects along with it the ideas of the
Enlightenment which are its principles, as well as democracy,
liberalism, and socialism which are its consequences. Mussolini is
extremely clear on this point.

However, fascism does not intend to return to the Ancien Régime,

because it understands that the primary causes of the downfall of
the latter are its own limitations, namely, above all, its absence of a
national spirit and its lack of organicity.
 ★

The fascist doctrine did not choose de Maistre as ‘prophet,’ because

the latter did not understand that the national idea, even if it had
been accidentally promoted by the Revolution, is essentially good,
that is to say, in conformity with the natural order. As a reminder,
the Catholic Church itself has recognized the value of the idea of
nation: “race, nation, state, the form of the state, the
depositories of power,” recalls Pius XI in Mit brennender Sorge
— “fundamental values of the human community” and
“things which hold in the earthly order a necessary and honorable
place.”

Fascism also rejects “monarchical absolutism […], just as it does

ecclesiolatry, feudal privileges, or castes closed with impenetrable
barriers,” because it understands that these things are the principal
reasons for the lack of organicity of the Ancien Régime; organicity
which, let us recall, is seen by Saint Thomas (following Aristotle) as
something good and even necessary for the survival of the City: “it
is necessary that everyone participate more or less in
government, for therein lies, according to the second book of the
Politics, a guarantee of civil peace” (Summa Theologica, I-II, 105, 1).

Hence the rejection of absolute monarchy, which excludes any real

participation of citizens in public affairs; and, moreover, of
hereditary monarchy by divine right, which makes belonging to a
family — supposedly chosen by God — the criterion of legitimacy,
whereas the latter is founded on nothing other than the effective
pursuit of the Common Good: “What is the ultimate and
definitive criterion for recognizing legitimacy? It is the
community which, in its habitual adhesion, gives juridical
efficacy to the regime of government […]. This habitual
adhesion testifies that the Common Good is attained in
this society” (Abbé Julio Meinvielle, Catholic Conception of
Politics).

Hence also the rejection of hereditary aristocracy, which is contrary

to the true nature of aristocracy, founded not on blood but on
virtue: “aristocracy is […] the power of the most virtuous”
(Saint Thomas, De Regno, I, 1).

Hence, finally, the rejection of the caste system, that is to say, of

closed classes, which prevents citizens belonging to an inferior class
but showing virtue from attaining power (or citizens belonging to a
superior class but showing vice from being cast down from their
rank), whereas distributive justice requires that “by their
virtue […], ordinary citizens may be chosen as leaders”
(Summa Theologica, I-II, 105, 1).

As for the “ecclesiolatry” denounced by Mussolini, that is to say

clericalism — which would have clerics govern the City by reason of
their clerical status — it is indeed contrary to a sound conception of
the relationship between temporal power and spiritual power, and
more generally between nature and the supernatural:

“We believe, as is agreed, that grace blossoms forth in nature, acts

within it as a kind of leaven, regenerates it from within, endows it
with a surplus vitality whose immediate result is to adapt it to the
grasp of objects beyond its native reach. We further believe that,
while elevating it, grace also heals and restores nature; but we
hold that healed nature is only more perfectly itself, and
that by reason of its healing it cannot be stripped of its
proper functions — healed nature signifying nature better
disposed to its proper functions.”
(Louis Lachance, L’Humanisme politique de saint Thomas d’Aquin
— individu et État).
“Thus, the temporal or political struggle rightly belongs to
the layman, so that “the clergy should be led not to
participate in this struggle […]. The [task] of the layman is
the combat, the guardianship, the defense of his
homeland, of his household.”
(Jean Ousset, Mission politique du laïc).

The rejection of clericalism goes hand in hand with the rejection of

royal absolutism.

Thus, regarding democracy, “fascism preserves what one might call

the established facts of history; but it rejects everything else, that is
to say, the conception of a doctrine valid for all times and for all
peoples.” Fascism does not seek a return to the Ancien Régime, for
it holds that the latter has had its time; and yet, it unequivocally
opposes the ideas of the Revolution and of democracy.

Fascism does not go backward, because it establishes a new order, a

political order more in conformity with the natural order and its
requirements. It does not go backward, because it makes the State
an absolute, something unprecedented in the history of humanity.

Fascism sees itself as the founder of the “collective century,” and

consequently, of the “century of the State”; “State” here being
understood not in the sense of a mere state institution, but in the
sense of a political whole. For fascism, the State is not reduced to
the Leader; the State is the totality of citizens, it is the City.

Why is fascism collectivist, or statist? Because it understands that

the collectivity, or political community, is the most perfect of
communities: “The most perfect community is that of the
City, for it is ordered to everything that is in itself
necessary for a human life” (Saint Thomas, Commentary on the
Politics, Proem. 4); and even that it is the most perfect of immanent
realities, for it is, on this earth, the only entity truly autonomous, or
autarchic, that is to say, “capable of sufficing for itself” (De Regno, I,
1). From a fascist perspective, “the City is not a community of
place established in order to avoid mutual injustices and
to permit exchanges. […] The City is the community
ordered to the good life, that is, whose end is a perfect and
autarchic life” (Aristotle, Politics, III).

It is true that man can live by himself; yet he cannot live well, that
is, live humanly, by his own strength. Man as man, considered in
himself, or as an independent entity, is nothing; a man alone is not
a man. Only the State or the political community, within
the natural order, is a reality in act through itself.

“Doctrine tends to direct human activity toward a determined

goal; but human activity reacts on doctrine, transforms it, adapts
it to new needs or disasters. [...] From this comes the pragmatic
character of fascism.”

Fascism does not go backward, because it clearly sees that concrete

circumstances change, and that to new circumstances there must
correspond new methods or ways of acting. And this is what it
means to be pragmatic — not in the sense of being relativistic, but in
the sense of being realistic.

Fascism is not relativistic, because it understands that there exists a

natural order, unchangeable, identical in all times and places; it
believes in “a permanent and universal reality from which [passing
and particular reality] borrows its being and its life,” and knows that
“to know men one must know man, one must know reality and its
laws” (The Doctrine of Fascism, I, 1). And that is why fascism,
insofar as it is in conformity with the natural order, presents itself
as a universal doctrine: “it has […] an ideal content which raises it to
the rank of a superior truth” (ibid.).

And yet, fascism is not ideological, but rather intends to be

pragmatic, because it admits the evolution of concrete
circumstances, linked “to the contingencies of place and time”
(ibid.). It acknowledges the fact that mentalities change, and
therefore that ways of acting which were suitable yesterday are no
longer suitable today.

In sum, fascism is realistic. In Aristotelian terms, we would say that

fascism is a universal form of State or political regime, but one
destined to be individualized according to the contingencies of time
and place.

Fascism seeks to put an end to the corrupt order of democracy; it

therefore belongs to the Counter-Revolution.

But the Counter-Revolution that fascism proposes is not a return

backward, or the “contrary of revolution” advocated by de Maistre;
it is rather a contrary revolution. Fascism knows in fact that before
reconstructing, it will first be necessary to deconstruct: “If socialism
is destructive and wishes to make disappear the last vestiges of
spirituality before constructing its atheism and materialism,
fascism also entails a work of destruction, destruction of
all the disorder accumulated by moribund democracy,
before constructing its spiritualist regime, which must impose
respect for Charity in all the social manifestations of the individual”
(Adrien Arcand, Serviam).

And insofar as fascism is revolutionary, its position intends to be

“pragmatic […] with regard to the fact of violence and to its value.”

Indeed, fascism admits a form of violence. For one does not destroy
an unjust violence—that is, something which opposes the natural
order, which is against nature—except by another violence, which,
insofar as it destroys the first violence and thereby restores things to
order, is in itself just.

In an era against nature, one can therefore oppose only the violence
of fascism: “The violence which fascism employs is justified
as soon as one understands the present era, which is an
era of violence” (Abbé Julio Meinvielle, Catholic Conception of
Economics).

Violence is certainly not an absolute, an end in itself; but it is a

necessary—and therefore legitimate—means in order to arrive at
the restoration of a society in conformity with the natural order
willed by God. Fascism is, quite simply, realistic.
 8. Value and Mission of the State

The essential principle of fascist doctrine is the conception of the

State—its essence, its role, its ends. For fascism, the State is
the absolute before which individuals and groups are
only relative. Individuals and groups are conceivable
only within the State. The liberal State does not direct the play
and the material and spiritual development of collectivities, but
limits itself to recording the results. The fascist State is conscious, it
has a will, and that is why it is described as an “ethical” State.

In 1929, I said before the first five-year assembly of the Regime:

“For fascism, the State is not the night watchman who
concerns himself only with the personal security of
citizens. Nor is it an organization with purely material
ends, such as guaranteeing a certain well-being or
relatively peaceful social relations, in which case a Board of
Directors would suffice. Nor is it a creation of pure politics,
without contact with the material and complex reality of the life of
individuals and of peoples.”

“The State, as fascism conceives and realizes it, is a

spiritual and moral fact, for it concretizes the political,
juridical, and economic organization of the nation; and
this organization, in its genesis and in its development, is
a manifestation of the spirit. The State is the guarantor of
internal and external security, but it is also the guardian and
transmitter of the spirit of the people, as it has been
formed through the centuries in language, in customs,
and in faith. The State is not only the present, but also the past
and above all the future. It is the State which, transcending
the narrow limits of individual lives, embodies the
immanent conscience of the nation. The forms under which
States manifest themselves change, but the necessity remains.”
“It is the State which forms individuals in civic virtues,
rendering them conscious of their duty, bringing them to
unity; it harmonizes their interests in justice; it transmits
the conquests of thought in the domain of sciences, arts,
law, and human solidarity; it raises men from the elementary
life of the tribe to the highest human expression of power, which is
empire; it transmits through the centuries the name of those who
died for its integrity or to obey its laws; it holds up as example and
commends to future generations the captains who expanded its
territory and the geniuses who crowned it with glory. When the
sense of the State weakens and the dissolving and
centrifugal tendencies of individuals or groups prevail,
nations move toward their decline.”

“For fascism, the State is the absolute before which individuals and
groups are only relative. Individuals and groups are conceivable
only within the State.”

The State is the absolute, in this sense: the political community is

the “perfect community” (Saint Thomas, De Regno, I, 1), such that
individuals and groups are ordered to it, since “that which is
imperfect is ordered to that which is perfect” (Saint Thomas,
Summa Theologica, I, 68, 1)—that is to say, they find their end in it.

★
“For fascism, the State is not the night watchman who
concerns himself only with the personal security of the
citizens.”

The fascist conception of the State is not liberal. In the doctrine of

fascism, the State is not charged merely with watching over the
order and security of individuals.

“The City is not a community of place established for the

sake of avoiding mutual injustices and permitting
exchanges. […] The City is the community ordered to the
good life, that is to say, whose end is a perfect and
self-sufficient life” (Aristotle, Politics, III).

“[Leo XIII] does not fear to teach that the State is not only
guardian of order and law, but that it must also
energetically strive so that, through the whole system of
laws and institutions, the constitution and administration
of society may naturally cause the public good life to
flourish” (Pius XI, Quadragesimo anno).

“It is not, moreover, an organization with purely

material ends, such as that of guaranteeing a certain
well-being.”

If the fascist conception of the State is not the liberal conception,

neither is it the socialist conception, according to which the finality
of the State is purely material or economic order; on the contrary, it
holds that the finality of the State is of a spiritual order.
“The end of human society is life according to virtue” (De
Regno, II, 3).

“Nor is it merely a creation of pure politics.”

For fascism, the State or the political community is not the result of
a “social contract,” but is a natural fact, since man is by nature
social and political, and therefore made to live in a State.

“It is natural for man to live in society” (De Regno, I, 1).

“The State, as fascism conceives and realizes it, is a spiritual and

moral fact, for it concretizes the political, juridical, and economic
organization of the nation, and this organization, in its origin and
in its development, is a manifestation of the spirit.”

Since the end of society is unity in virtue, and such an end is

spiritual; since it is the task of the State to pursue this end, and
since “the effect necessarily resembles its cause, if the cause is
perfect” (Summa Theologica, I, 60, 4), it follows that the State is a
“spiritual and moral fact,” and that it is consequently “a
manifestation of the human spirit.”

★
“[The State] is also the guardian and the transmitter of the spirit of
the people, as it has been formed over the centuries in language, in
customs, and in faith.”

Since the State is at the service of the Common Good of the City,
and since the Common Good consists in unity (De Regno, I, 2), it
follows that the State must make it its goal to preserve the unity of
the City.

Now, the unity of a City is built primarily around morals, a faith or a

tradition, and multiple customs.

“They [the morals, traditions, and customs of a nation]

truly constitute a common patrimony. […] Is it necessary
to add that it is above all they which are responsible for
the particular mode in which the Common Good of each
nation takes shape?” (Fr. Louis Lachance, The Political
Humanism of Saint Thomas Aquinas, pp. 247–248).

“It is the State which, surpassing the narrow limits of individual

lives, incarnates the immanent consciousness of the nation.”

The nation is an individuation of human nature on the collective

scale, such that it possesses within itself a consciousness and a
will—those of all the members of the nation insofar as they belong
to the same nation. Now, the State is to the people what the soul is
to the body:

“Since men are numerous and each one provides for his own
particular good, their society would disintegrate if there were not
some principle providing for the good of this multitude; just as the
body of a man or of any animal whatsoever would fall apart, if there
were not within it a common directive force [a soul] tending to the
common good of all the members.” (De Regno, I, 1).

Thus, the State is to the nation what form is to matter. It is therefore

the State that actualizes, or incarnates, the consciousness and the
will of the nation.

“It is the State which forms individuals in civic virtues,

makes them conscious of their duty, brings them to unity;
it harmonizes their interests in justice; it transmits the
conquests of thought in the domains of science, the arts,
and law.”

It is the State that “forms individuals in civic virtues, makes them

conscious of their duty”:

“It is evident that the end of a multitude gathered in society is to live

according to virtue: for men unite in order to live well together, an
end which the isolated man cannot attain; now, to live well is to live
according to virtue; therefore, the end of human society is life
according to virtue.” (De Regno, II, 3).

But the end of the State is none other than the common good of its
members, and it is the State which has charge of the common good
of the City; thus, it falls to the State to make its citizens virtuous.

It is the State that “brings [the citizens] to unity”:

“This is what the one who governs the human community
must apply himself to above all: to procure unity.” (ibid., I,
2).

And it is the State which governs the human community.

It is the State that “harmonizes their [the citizens’] interests in

justice”: indeed, it is the holder of public force, and “the general
utility of force is to maintain the entire order of justice.”
(Summa Theologiae, II-II, q.123, a.12).

Finally, it is the State that “transmits the conquests of thought in

the domains of science, the arts, and law”: since the end of the State
is the good life (bene vivere) of the multitude, and since this good
life consists chiefly in contemplation, political action, and
productive making, it follows that the speculative sciences
(beginning with philosophy and theology), law—in the sense of the
body of laws that guarantee justice in the City—, and the arts all
have a most essential place in the City. Now it belongs to the State
to procure the good life for its citizens; thus, it is the natural
protector of the sciences, the arts, and the law.

“When the sense of the State weakens and the dissolving and
centrifugal tendencies of individuals or groups prevail, nations
march toward their decline.”

Since the State plays a preeminent role in human society, and is

above all necessary to guarantee its unity, it follows that a nation
which loses its sense of the State hastens toward its own ruin.
When the sense of the common good disappears in favor of the
particular goods of individuals or social groups, the entire political
community collapses.
 9. The Unity of the State and the Contradictions of
Capitalism

Since 1919, universal economic and political developments have

only reinforced this doctrinal position. The State has become a
giant. It is the State that can resolve the dramatic contradictions of
capitalism. What is called “the crisis” can only be resolved by the
State and within the State.

Where now are the shades of Jules Simon, who, at the dawn of
liberalism, proclaimed that the State must work to render itself
useless and prepare for its own resignation? Where are the shades
of McCulloch who, in the second half of the last century, affirmed
that the State must beware of governing too much? And what
would the Englishman Bentham say — who maintained that
industry should ask of the State nothing but to leave it in peace —
or the German Humboldt, according to whom the “idle” State
should be considered the best, if they were to witness the continual
interventions of the State in economic affairs, interventions at once
solicited and inevitable? It is true that the second generation of
liberal economists was less extreme than the first, and that even
Smith himself opened the door — though cautiously — to State
interventions in the economic sphere.

If liberalism means the individual, fascism means the

State. But the fascist State is unique: it is an original
creation. It is not reactionary, but revolutionary, in the
sense that it anticipates the solution to certain universal
problems:

• In the political domain: the fragmentation of parties, the

abuses of parliamentary power, the irresponsibility of Assemblies.
 • In the economic domain: the ever-increasing and
ever-more-powerful functions of the syndicates, both workers’ and
employers’, with their conflicts as well as their collusion.
• In the moral domain: the need for order, for discipline, and
for obedience to the moral rules of the fatherland.

Fascism seeks for the State to be strong, organized, and

at the same time to rest on a broad popular base. The
fascist State also claimed authority over the economic
sphere; and through the corporative, social, and educational
institutions it created, the sense of the State extends to the farthest
reaches of the country, and within the State all political, economic,
and spiritual forces of the nation circulate, structured within their
respective organizations.

A State that relies on millions of individuals who recognize it, feel

it, and are ready to serve it, is not the tyrannical State of a
medieval lord. It has nothing in common with absolutist States
before or after 1789. The individual in the fascist State is not
annulled, but rather multiplied, just as a soldier in a
regiment is not diminished, but multiplied by the number
of his comrades in arms. The fascist State organizes the nation,
yet it still leaves individuals a sufficient margin; it has limited
freedoms that are unnecessary or harmful, but it has preserved
essential freedoms.

In this domain, only the State is the judge, not the

individual.

★
“It is the State that can resolve the dramatic contradictions of
capitalism.”

Capitalism has brought with it the disunity of society. Indeed, it has

divided society into two “classes”: on one side, the bourgeoisie; on
the other, the proletariat. As a result, Marxism and class struggle
have emerged.

Yet only political authority can restore a disunited society to unity.

And political authority is the State. Therefore, only the State is
capable of resolving the contradictions of capitalism. This is
precisely the mission that fascism has undertaken: to restore unity
to the City, through the State, and within the State.

And this is why, “if liberalism means the individual, fascism means
the State”: fascism does not consider the political community as a
mere sum of individuals, but as a truly united community; it
equates it with the State, which is by nature one.

“The fascist State is unique, and it is an original creation. It is not

reactionary, but revolutionary, in the sense that it anticipates the
solution to certain universal problems.”

The fascist State is not reactionary, in that it does not seek to “go
backward” as if society had not changed, as if no new problems
needed to be addressed.

On the contrary, it seeks to confront these new problems; and in

this sense, it is “revolutionary.” In particular, it aims to provide the
people with a new unity, which is achieved through a sharp national
consciousness and a genuine organic integration of the Whole—that
is, a unity of will and action; and this is why it is both nationalist
and organicist.

“Fascism wants the State to be strong, organized, and at the same

time based on a broad popular foundation.”

Since it is the State’s responsibility to ensure the Common Good of

the City, it is necessary for it to be strong, or powerful—that is, to
possess all the means required to secure it. It must also be
organized, because the pursuit of the Common Good requires that
everything in the City be arranged so that it can be directed toward
the Common Good.

Yet while the fascist State is authoritarian, it is also organicist: it

seeks to rely on the largest possible portion of citizens—if not
all—because it understands that the Common Good will be more
easily achieved when all citizens pursue it voluntarily, in accordance
with the State’s directives.

This is why, “the individual in the fascist State is not annulled, but
rather multiplied, just as a soldier in a regiment is not diminished,
but multiplied by the number of his comrades in arms.” The
political community is like an army: when all individuals sacrifice
their particular interests to align themselves with the Common
Good—which is the triumph of the Whole—they in fact achieve their
greatest good, since this victory is also the victory of all.

★
“The fascist State also claimed authority over the economic
sphere.”

Just as there is no form without matter, there is no well-being

without life; the economic prosperity of the nation is therefore
necessary for the Common Good, or the collective happiness of that
nation, to be possible.

And it is the State that is responsible for the Common Good. Thus,
it is entirely justified in attending to economic matters, in particular
the protection of workers, notably through state-run corporations.

As a reminder: “Just as, through all these means, the State

can be useful to other classes, so too it can greatly improve
the condition of the working class. It will do so fully within
its rights and without fear of reproach for interference,
because by the very nature of its office, the State must
serve the Common Good” (Leo XIII, Rerum Novarum).
Catholics sometimes tend to forget this…

“In this domain [the domain of law], only the State is the judge, not
the individual.”

Because law—that is, the just distribution of things—is one of the

principal components of the Common Good, and because it is the
responsibility of the State, not the individual, to determine what is
beneficial for the community, it follows that only the State is the
judge in matters of law. The fascist State does not recognize
“subjective rights” that are not aligned with the Common Good of
the City; and it does not tolerate individuals claiming such rights. It
is the State, and not an individual or any other organization, that
determines who is entitled to what within the political community.
 10. The Fascist State and Religion

“The Fascist State is not indifferent to religious phenomena in

general nor does it maintain an attitude of indifference to Roman
Catholicism, the special, positive religion of Italians. The State has
not got a theology but it has a moral code. The Fascist State sees in
religion one of the deepest of spiritual manifestations and for this
reason it not only respects religion but defends and protects it. The
Fascist State does not attempt, as did Robespierre at the height of
the revolutionary delirium of the Convention, to set up a “god” of
its own; nor does it vainly seek, as does Bolshevism, to efface God
from the soul of man. Fascism respects the God of ascetics, saints,
and heroes, and it also respects God as conceived by the ingenuous
and primitive heart of the people, the God to whom their prayers
are raised.”

“The Fascist State is not indifferent to religious phenomena in

general nor does it maintain an attitude of indifference to Roman
Catholicism, the special, positive religion of Italians.”

Fascism is inseparable from a religious conception. For fascism is

spiritualist: it believes in the transcendent vocation of man; thus, it
cannot but affirm the existence of God. But if God exists, then the
first of all forms of justice is that which renders to God the worship
owed to Him, since everything is due to God, beginning with our
very existence. Now this virtue is called the virtue of religion:
“Religion offers its care and its rites to a nature of a higher
order which is called divine” (Cicero, The Republic); “It
belongs to religion to render to God the honor which is
His due” (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, II-II, 81, 2).
And the virtue of religion, insofar as it pertains to the natural order
of things, is therefore natural (such a virtue would have existed
even in a state of pure nature).
Thus, fascism, which is not only a political but also a moral
conception, cannot remain “indifferent to the religious fact in
general,” that is, to the natural existence of religion.

But if it does not ignore the religious fact in general, neither can it
ignore “that particular positive religion which is Italian
Catholicism.” “Positive,” because Catholicism is not a “natural”
religion, but a religion instituted by God Himself. And insofar as it
is the Religion instituted by God, fascism can regard it only as the
Religion par excellence.

Some will say that if Mussolini signed a Concordat with the Holy
See (in 1929), if he made “the Catholic, Apostolic and Roman
Religion […] the sole Religion of the Italian State,” it was above all
for pragmatic reasons, since the Catholic Religion was that of the
vast majority of Italians. And this is no doubt true. But it
nonetheless shows fascism’s attachment to Catholicism;
for if it had not been attached to it, such a Concordat
would never have been signed; and had it been opposed to
it, it would not have refrained from attacking it openly:
the Convention attacked it even though the majority of the
French were Catholics, and Bolshevism fought against the
Orthodox religion, even though it was that of nearly the
entire Russian people.

And if fascism recognized the Catholic Religion as “the sole

religion,” it is because it is the only religion—namely, the only one
that truly binds man to God, the finite to the Infinite. For in order
for the finite to be joined to the Infinite, either the finite must
become infinite, or the Infinite must become finite; yet the finite
cannot make itself infinite by its own strength. Thus, it is for the
Infinite to make itself finite, for God to become man, to take flesh,
to become incarnate. Now the only religion of the Incarnation is the
Catholic Religion, which holds that Christ is none other than the
Second Person of the Holy Trinity incarnate, that He is at once true
God and true man.

As a reminder: “The very nature of God is the essence of

goodness, as Dionysius shows. Therefore, everything that
belongs to the idea of the good applies to God. Now, it
belongs to the idea of the good to communicate itself to
others […]. Thus, it belongs to the idea of the sovereign
Good to communicate itself sovereignly to the creature.
And this sovereign communication is realized only when
God ‘is united to created nature in such a way as to form
one single person out of these three realities: the Word,
the soul, and the flesh,’ according to St. Augustine. The
fittingness of the Incarnation therefore appears evident.”
(Summa Theologica, III, 1, 1).

Consequently, the Catholic Religion is the only one that can truly
bear the name of “religion”; and this is why fascism, which cannot
remain indifferent to the religious fact—since it is spiritualist—can
only adhere to Catholicism.

Whether displeasing to antifascist Catholics—but are such people

truly Catholics?—or to anticatholic fascists—but are such people
truly fascists?—fascist politics and the Catholic Religion are not only
historically, but also essentially linked.

“The State has not got a theology but it has a moral code. The
Fascist State sees in religion one of the deepest of spiritual
manifestations and for this reason it not only respects religion but
defends and protects it.”
When Mussolini affirms that the State is not a “theology” but a
“morality,” he means that the political order does not belong to the
supernatural order, but rather to the natural order in its spiritual
dimension. Indeed, in fascism there is a clear distinction between
the supernatural order and the natural order—even in its highest
part, which is that of the spirit—and therefore also a clear
distinction between religious matters and political matters, together
with a categorical rejection of any confusion between these two
domains. Now, this is entirely consistent with the spirit of
Catholicism, which is the only religion to recognize the autonomy of
the political sphere, because it alone recognizes a natural order
distinct from the supernatural order: “There is a divine natural
order; and another, supernatural” (Abbé Julio Meinvielle,
Catholic Conception of Politics).

But religion, as we have said, is a natural virtue, and it is even the

“deepest manifestation of the human spirit”; thus, it pertains to the
spirit, and the latter cannot ignore it. Consequently, it is rational
that the Catholic Religion, which is the only true religion,
should also be the religion of the State, insofar as it alone
truly merits the name of religion; and even if it is of
supernatural essence, it fulfills a natural duty which the
State, precisely as natural, cannot disregard.

Thus, although fascism clearly distinguishes the political sphere

from the religious sphere, it does not separate them; rather, it
unites them. And this too is fully consistent with a sound Catholic
vision of things: “The State must be Catholic, for everything
that is human must by nature render worship to God, and
the State is essentially a human reality” (Abbé Julio
Meinvielle, op. cit.).

And this is why the Catholic Religion is “not only respected” by the
fascist State, “but also defended and protected.”
 ★

“The Fascist State does not attempt, as did Robespierre at the

height of the revolutionary delirium of the Convention, to set up a
“god” of its own; nor does it vainly seek, as does Bolshevism, to
efface God from the soul of man. Fascism respects the God of
ascetics, saints, and heroes, and it also respects God as conceived
by the ingenuous and primitive heart of the people, the God to
whom their prayers are raised.”

Contrary to what has sometimes been claimed, historical fascism

never sought to create a new positive religion, as the ideologues of
the French Revolution attempted to do; still less did it aim to
abolish the religious fact, as did communist regimes, whose
materialist essence logically led them to combat everything that
proceeded from the spirit.

On the contrary, fascism, insofar as it is both “realist” and

“spiritualist,” adheres to the Catholic Religion, which, as Mussolini
rightly observed, is indeed that “of ascetics, of saints, and of
heroes.”

One must recall, in this regard, the authentically virile essence of

the Catholic Religion, which is a message of faith and combat, of
patience and perseverance, of self-denial and sacrifice.

A message with which fascism is—one may readily admit—in perfect

accord.
 11. Empire and Discipline

“The fascist State is a will to power and domination. The

Roman tradition here is an idea of strength. In the doctrine
of fascism, empire is not merely a territorial, military, or
commercial expression, but also a spiritual and moral
one. One can conceive of an empire—that is, a nation
which, directly or indirectly, guides other
nations—without the conquest of a single square
kilometer of territory being necessary. For fascism, the
aspiration to empire—that is, the expansion of
nations—is a manifestation of vitality; its opposite, the
spirit of domestic withdrawal, is a sign of decadence.
Peoples that are born or reborn are imperialist; peoples
that die are renouncers.

Fascism is the doctrine most apt to embody the tendencies and the
state of soul of a people such as the Italian people, who are
resurrecting after long centuries of neglect or foreign servitude.
But empire requires discipline, the coordination of efforts, duty,
and sacrifice. And this explains many aspects of the practical
action of the Regime: the direction impressed upon the multiple
forces of the State, and the necessary severity toward those
who would oppose this spontaneous and inevitable
movement of the life of the twentieth century, opposing it
by brandishing the outdated ideologies of the nineteenth
century—ideologies repudiated wherever bold experiments of
political and social transformation have been undertaken. At this
moment more than ever, peoples thirst for authority, for direction,
and for order. If each century has its doctrine, countless signs
indicate that that of the present century is fascism. Fascism is a
doctrine of life, for it has inspired a faith; and that faith has
conquered souls, for fascism has had its dead and its martyrs.
The doctrine of fascism now possesses, throughout the
world, the universality that belongs to all doctrines
which, in becoming actualized, embody an epoch in the
history of the human spirit.”

“The fascist State is a will to power and domination. The Roman

tradition here embodies an idea of strength.”

At first glance, this assertion may seem more in keeping with a

paganizing Nietzschean outlook than with Thomistic philosophy.

However, it is important to recall that the virtue of fortitude, and

the accompanying will to overcome, have a legitimate place within
the moral framework of Saint Thomas—and, one could even say, a
relatively significant one.

It therefore seems appropriate to pause for a moment and consider

the importance of this virtue.

Among the four cardinal virtues—prudence, justice, fortitude,

temperance—fortitude is perhaps the most overlooked in our time,
regrettably even among a large number of Catholics.

It is a fact that the notions associated with the virtue of

fortitude—convictions, the values and goods for which one stands,
the fidelity required by such commitments, and the sacrifices
demanded by this fidelity—are largely devalued today. How can one
speak of convictions in a society saturated with liberalism and for
which truth is considered nonexistent? How can one speak of
fidelity when one of the primary fidelities, marital fidelity, is
mocked? How can one speak of sacrifice in a world devoted to
comfort? The virtue of fortitude stands in direct opposition to the
very spirit of modernity.
For reference, fortitude is above all the firmness of the soul in
pursuing the good: “Fortitude, considered as a certain
firmness of the soul, is virtue in general, or rather the
general condition of all virtue” (Saint Thomas, Summa
Theologica, II-II, 123, 2); “Fortitude, eminently summarizing
in itself the condition necessary for all virtue—namely,
firmness in the good—is rightly considered a cardinal
virtue” (ibid., II-II, 123, 11). Thus, fortitude holds a central place
within moral philosophy.

Fortitude is a firmness of the soul in the face of bodily dangers and

those that threaten the very essence of man:

“[The virtue of fortitude] does not consist solely in standing firm

against bodily peril, but in maintaining the essence of man, and
above all his nature as a ‘political animal,’ both in the natural and
supernatural order, against the increasingly numerous dangers that
threaten it with death, and in counterattacking the enemies that
swarm around it and attempt to enslave it, to transform it, or to
annihilate it” (Marcel De Corte, De la force).

The ultimate purpose of fortitude is the good, that is, justice:

“Fortitude has a general utility, which is to uphold the
entire order of justice” (Summa Theologica, II-II, 123, 12).

The principle of fortitude is twofold: it is both natural and

supernatural. “Saint Thomas does not even separate here [in the
question on fortitude] the supernatural order from the natural
order. Martyrdom, for him, is an act of human fortitude elevated by
grace. Thus there is only one virtue of fortitude, but it operates on
two vertically distinct levels according to the two ends it sustains.
‘In the act of fortitude, two things must be considered: the good in
which the strong remain steadfast, which fortitude aims to achieve;
and the firmness that makes one invincible to anything that would
detach one from this good, which constitutes the very essence of
fortitude. Just as natural fortitude keeps man faithful to human
justice and enables him to defend it at the risk of his life, so
supernatural fortitude makes man steadfast in the justice of God,
which is accessed through the faith of Jesus Christ’ (Romans 3:22).
Faith, to which one remains attached, is therefore the end of the
martyr’s act; fortitude is the habitus that produces this act” (Marcel
De Corte, op. cit.). In other words, it is the same virtue exercised by
the soldier who dies for his country and the martyr who dies for the
faith.

Fortitude has two primary aspects: sustinere, which is the act of

enduring the trials imposed upon us, and agredi, which is to
confront the evils that it falls to us to overcome. “The virtue of
fortitude functions to remove obstacles that prevent the
will from obeying reason. Retreating in the face of
difficulty is characteristic of fear, which recoils before a
hard-to-conquer evil. Therefore, fortitude principally
addresses fear of difficulties, which might otherwise
hinder the will from remaining faithful to reason.
Moreover, it requires not only firmly enduring the shocks
of adversity by restraining fear, but also actively
confronting them in a measured manner when necessary
to secure the future, which is evidently the function of
courage. Thus, fortitude deals both with fear, which it
represses, and audacity, which it directs” (Summa
Theologica, II-II, 123, 3).

Marcel De Corte clarifies the meaning of “measured” here: “One

must not misunderstand the sense Aristotle and Saint
Thomas attribute to moderation, to measure. To moderate
does not mean weak or faint […]. Measure does not imply
restraint or slowness. Moderation does not entail the total
exclusion of fear […]. Fortitude includes a certain fear
that is mastered and thereby enables the one who
experiences it to not recoil from the arduousness of the
object, while preserving the full awareness of its difficulty.
It also includes a disciplined audacity that does not blindly
rush into danger. Fortitude is not a mean between fear
and audacity, nor a mixture of the two on the same plane.
It occupies a higher plane, controlling the concrete reality
of their object […]. Fortitude is a virtue of the soul. It
informs fear and audacity as form informs matter. It thus
determines their quality and quantity, evaluates them,
marks their limits. Being their rule, it imposes itself upon
them. In a hierarchy, it occupies a rank above them.” (De la
force).

Thus, while fear must be restrained, audacity must be

directed—that is, oriented toward an end conforming to reason.
Of the two aspects of fortitude, the more essential is the first,
namely sustinere, for it is harder to repress fear than to direct
audacity:

“The virtue of fortitude, defined in its essence by its highest degree,

will thus be found more in the act of enduring danger by dispelling
fear than in the act of bringing audacity to its proper measure”
(ibid.).

Yet agredi should not be forgotten, for it too is important, especially

in an age when not only the supernatural order but also the natural
order are under attack from every side:

“Because the principal act of fortitude is to resist, one

should not conclude that it consists solely in defense […].
The virtue of fortitude implies, secondarily but
necessarily, attack” (ibid.).

Fortitude, together with justice—which is radically the act of

ordering oneself to the common good of the City—are the two most
important cardinal virtues; in fact, they are intimately connected:
“The correlation between justice and fortitude,” says Saint
Thomas, “consists in this: fortitude has as its object
difficulties, and it is a vast one—not only to perform the
works of virtue commonly called works of justice, directed
toward the common good […], but also to do so with that
insatiable desire which can be called the hunger and thirst
for justice” (ibid.).

Unfortunately, many Catholics reject the idea of fortitude in the

name of the meekness of Christ (just as many reject honor or service
to the City in the name of His preached humility).

To such Catholics, it must be reminded that:

“If one must learn from Jesus Christ that He is gentle, one
must no less learn from Him that He is strong. Just as
there is a necessary gentleness, there is also a forbidden
gentleness; and just as there is forbidden hatred,
forbidden anger, forbidden violence, there is also a
hatred, anger, and violence that are rightly ordered” (Mgr
Gay, Sermons d’Avent).

From a Thomist perspective, fortitude is a cardinal virtue, and in a

sense even the highest virtue. This is what Mgr Freppel, the great
architect of the revival of Thomism in the 19th century, said:

“Among the cardinal virtues, there is one that has a more

marked character of grandeur and nobility. It is the one
that sustains us in both good and bad fortune, raising us
above all the vicissitudes of this world. Souls rise or fall
with it—active and generous when it communicates its
impulse to them, languishing and inert when it fails to do
so. All the energy in the moral world flows from this
primary source: civil courage, military virtue, priestly
devotion, firmness in the exercise of sovereign authority”
(Pastoral Letter on the Virtue of Fortitude, February 9, 1890).

What is certain is that fortitude, in our contemporary age marked

by liberalism, is the most necessary of virtues:

“The virtue of fortitude—vanished [in our century] from the

vocabulary of politicians and ecclesiastics—is today the virtue par
excellence, without which the return to intellectual, aesthetic,
moral, political, and religious health for humanity, attacked on all
sides, is strictly impossible” (Marcel De Corte, op. cit.).

When Mussolini thus defines Roman tradition in general, and

fascism in particular, as an “idea of force,” when he expresses his
desire to revivify the Italian people at a time when weakness had
already gained ground among individuals—including Catholics—the
political society and the Church itself, we believe he is entirely in
harmony with Thomist philosophy and true Catholic morality.

“In the doctrine of fascism, empire is not merely a territorial,

military, or commercial expression, but also a spiritual and moral
one. One can conceive of an empire—that is, a nation which,
directly or indirectly, guides other nations—without the conquest
of a single square kilometer of territory being necessary.”

Fascism is colonialist, yes. But not in the sense in which the French
Republic understood colonization.

For fascism, colonization is the “spiritual and moral” domination of

an objectively superior culture—that is, a culture that is objectively
more universal, more representative of human nature—over inferior
cultures. Its purpose is therefore to elevate the colonized peoples,
not to exploit them.

But this presupposes, indeed, that there exist cultures objectively

meant to dominate and others meant to be dominated—not merely
on a material or economic level, but on a spiritual, intellectual, and
moral plane. It presupposes the acceptance of an inequality between
cultures.

Such a vision of things rests on a foundational inegalitarianism: the

doctrine according to which there are no equal individuals, and a
fortiori, no equal peoples. This is precisely the doctrine of the
Ancients, in particular Aristotle and Saint Thomas:

“Authority and obedience are not only necessary things; they are
also good things. Some beings, from the moment they are born, are
destined, some to obey, others to command, albeit with very diverse
degrees and nuances for each” (Politics, I, 2, On Slavery).

“If a man is superior to another in knowledge and justice,

it is shocking that he should not employ this superiority in
the service of others. In this sense it is written: ‘As each
has received a gift, employ it in serving one another’ (1
Peter 4:10)” (Summa Theologica, I, 96, 4).

Thus, the strongest, the most intelligent, and the most virtuous are
called, by nature, to rule over others—for their good. Pius XI himself
recalled:

“It is false that all men have the same rights in civil society, and that
there exists no legitimate hierarchy” (Divini Redemptoris).

And what holds true on the individual level also holds on

the collective level. It is therefore legitimate that the
nations most spiritually advanced should govern, in a
sense, the other nations—without, however, taking away
their sovereignty, since the City remains “the perfect
community.”

“The aspiration to empire—that is, to the expansion of nations—is

a manifestation of vitality; its opposite, the domestic and
sedentary spirit, is a sign of decadence. Peoples who are being
born or reborn are imperialist; peoples who are dying are
renouncers.”

Since a culture is, so to speak, an individuation of human nature on

the political level—that is, the most universal individuation of
human nature—it is natural and legitimate for a culture to desire
universality, and consequently, to seek to universalize itself when it
has the means to do so.

It is therefore indeed a sign of vitality, for a nation, to strive to

exercise a certain magisterium over other nations.

Mussolini then speaks of the “necessary severity against those who

would oppose this movement,” namely the Fascist movement.

The Fascist State has often been reproached for the violence it
exercised against its opponents.

But once one understands that it proposed nothing other than the
pursuit of the Common Good, and that those who oppose the
Common Good are “worse than beasts” (St. Thomas), because they
oppose the highest good of all, one understands that there exists an
“ordered violence” (Mgr. Gay) against such people. And this is why
the Fascist State did not hesitate to show severity toward its
enemies, including the so-called “Christian Democrats,” who were
in fact objectively aligned with the revolutionary cause.

“The people thirst for authority, for direction, and for order.”

Once again, this accords perfectly with a realistic vision of things.

Indeed, in a political society, the multitude is the material cause, the
order of this multitude is the formal cause, the authority which
governs it is the efficient cause, and the direction or good pursued
by authority is the final cause. Now, by nature, matter desires form
in order to attain its good; but this form can only be received
through an external agent, since matter cannot inform itself. Thus,
by nature, a people desires an authority which, in order to lead it to
its good, gives it order—that is to say, unity within plurality.

“It is also necessary that there be among men a principle directing

the multitude. For men are many, and each provides for his own
particular interest, so their society would lose its unity if there were
not a principle providing for the good of this multitude; just as the
body of a man, or of any animal, would disintegrate if there were
not in that body some common directing force tending to the good
of all the members. […] Every multitude must therefore have a
directing principle.” (St. Thomas, De Regno, I, 1)

Such a principle of direction and unity of the people is what we

properly call political authority.
The triptych “authority, direction, order” therefore perfectly sums
up both realistic politics and Fascist politics.

Finally, “the doctrine of Fascism now possesses, throughout the

entire world, the universality that belongs to all doctrines which, in
becoming actual, represent an epoch in the history of the human
spirit.”

Thus does Mussolini conclude his Doctrine of Fascism.

It is a conclusion we readily make our own, insofar as—according to

what has been established—it is clear that Fascism is, for our
contemporary age, the incarnation of the political doctrine of St.
Thomas, and more generally of realistic politics.

May the Thomists who are not Fascists finally come to understand
it.