Transnationalism and the Nouvelle Droite

I found this week’s readings as very informative for understanding how right wing movements developed between the end of the second world war and today. Bar-On’s Transnationalism and the French Nouvelle Droite, explains the French Nouvelle Droite role in establishing some of the core tactics and content used by today’s European populist and right-wing groups. One of the primary features of the ND was their view that Liberalism, Socialism, multiculturalism, and democracy were homogenizing ideologies that were destroying the cultural, regional, and national roots of Europe (206). This to me was the precursor for populist and right wings movements of today, use of identity politics. without the establishment of this idea, the “othering” tactics of populist movements would be lacking. Bar-On also touches on the idea that the ND was transnationally focused. According to him, the ND utilized the idea of the ‘Gramscianism of the right’, which focused the ND’s to influence European civil society rather than governments. Personally, I find this very interesting from a European integration perspective, on the one hand, the EU (which was undergoing its development at the time) focused on influencing governments rather than the public, relying on ‘permissive consensus’ of the public. On the other hand, the ND set out to influence civil society, thus bringing down some of the nationalist barriers that fascist and nationalist parties relied on. What is interesting here is that both the EU and right wing movements have been successful in targeting their areas, yet both lack traction in the other. By this I mean, right wing movements have been able to gain enough support at the public level, but have struggled to win at a national level. The EU has had the opposite problem, they have achieved some success integrating at the national level yet have lacked civil society support. Nonetheless, it is interesting that both the EU and the right-wing movements have integrated Europe in their own ways.

This week’s readings have turned some of the concepts I once took as fact, on its head. The first is put forward by Bar-On when he brings up the “now widespread strategy of inversion, of turning universalist, multicultural anti-racism into a form of racism, was picked up from the ND” (207).  This turning on its head of liberal values is actually quite ingenious. While the ND was able to trans-nationally influence the content of other groups in Europe, they also struggled. Such is the case of Portugal, where according to Marchi, the Portuguese intellectuals and right-wing groups seemed to be “influenced less by the content and more by the methods of the French ND”(243). This is not too surprising, as cultural context within different states will vary and thus require right wing groups to adapt their message accordingly. Marchi also argues that the ND was unsuccessful in cultivating a pan-European identity within in Portugal. Again I find this a bit harsh, as building pan-European identities has always been a daunting task for any group, including large institutions like the EU.

Neo-Fascism: Second Verse, Same as the First

What is the lesson of the New Right? Of Neo-Fascism and of new conservative movements? And how do they differ from plain, good ol’ regular Fascism?

Answer this and you’ll have solved the greatest political concern modern liberals have been facing since Neo-Fascism’s resurgence in 1968.

Interestingly, “why” is the simple part to answer. 1968 was a tumultuous year in Europe especially, and was the culmination of a trend towards anti-establishment thought and belief across multiple nations, especially centered on universities. Fascists and the far-right was suffering from a lack of appeal, and as radical thinkers began to align with varying ideologies, Marxist thought had a tendency to swallow up other anti-establishment believers.

At the same time, the established far-right was shaken when seeing how potent the effects of communist thinking had become in the West. So trying to redefine the right, trying to change the narrative of the far-right and of neo-fascists, was important if the movement was to remain, and more importantly to grow at all.

But what can we learn? Perhaps the lessons lie in the way that Fascism and by extension other extreme-right ideologies are able to fluctuate, shift in ideology and to remain powerful despite changes. As one form of Fascism falls in popularity, it is the innate ability of Fascism to change its face, manifest itself pragmatically in other forms.

Perhaps too we must recognize the power of a common cause. Far-right groups may no often get along with each other based on major doctrinal differences, but given a large enough, potent enough common enemy, groups tend to coalesce into a unified resistance. From the Carlists and Francoists in Spain, to neo-fascists in postwar Europe, this trend remains a powerful one.

But all of this speculation is difficult to truly give full credence to. Fascism itself is so hard to pinpoint that it is difficult to truly say what neo-fascism has done differently. In many ways, the attempts by the New Right to modernize and regain popular support is not too different from the shift to Fascism from older forms of right-wing thought.

So… here we are again. Trying to classify something that shifts by its very nature. To say it’s difficult is… an understatement.

Metapolitical Chimerism of the Nouvelle Droite

By Absalom Sink

The protests of 1968 are often held up as the apotheosis of the New Left—to borrow from Hunter Thompson, the “high water mark[…] where the wave finally broke and rolled back”—as the student activism that undergirded them generally failed to meet their revolutionary aims. But as this week’s readings make clear, 1968 also served as a critical inflection point in the trajectory of the ultranationalist right: the French protests of May ’68 provided a crucial impetus for the genesis of a French, and later transnational, “New Right.”

Tamir Bar-On’s “Transnationalism and the French Nouvelle Droite” examines the ideological influences Alain de Benoist’s ‘Nouvelle Droite’ (ND), and the factors that allowed it to transcend national boundaries and become a transnational cultural and metapolitical movement. Bar-On predicates the ND’s success on the prolific output of its ideological architect, de Benoist, on the movement’s ability to metamorphose following the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, and its adoption of Gramscian hegemonic theory. The latter stems from de Benoist and his fellow travelers’ “hatred and envy for the [left] 1968ers”: the mass-mobilization of leftist activists and students had shown the radical right the extent to which left-wing politics had captured “hearts and minds”. The goal of the ND, then, was to “regain cultural power from the liberal left by regaining the ‘laboratories of thought,’” that is, through the creation of a web of think-tanks, journals, conferences, and by carving out spaces in universities sympathetic to ND discourse.1

Key to this right-wing neo-Gramscianism was a necessity for transmission and adoption of ND ideology and ethos beyond France. After all, communism, egalitarianism, socialism, liberalism all would continue to exist outside France even if ‘defeated’ within France, and thus might reenter the French cultural discourse. The fight would need to be transnational in order to succeed.2 The attempt to export ND abroad met with varying levels of success; Richard Marchi’s “The Nouvelle Droite in Portugal” argues that Portugal’s Nova Direita “seemed influenced less by the content and more by the methods of the French ND,” and adopted ND tactics like Gramscianism, while eschewing aspects like the ND’s anti-Christianism.

With all that said, it is crucial to recognize that even the French ND is not a static entity; rather, it is a metapolitical chameleon, changing its colours to camouflage its ideological underpinnings within the broader politico-cultural discourse. At core, the New Right is a “transnational ideological cocktail,” a chimera born from disparate parts, and everchanging to match the prevailing political conditions in such a way that it can always be tugging the discourse to the right.

1This right-wing Gramscianism has been reflected again in recent years in alt-right and far-right discourse about shifting the “Overton Window”

2 Similarities to Italy’s attempt to export fascism in the interwar years is not coincidental; as both Bar-On and Roger Griffin make plain, the self-described ‘superfascist’ Julius Evola was a key ideological influence on the French ND.

Works Cited

Riccard Marchi, “The Nouvelle Droite in Portugal: A New Strategy for the Radical Right in the Transition from Authoritarianism to Democracy,” Patterns of Prejudice 50, no. 3 (July 2016): 232–52.

Tamir Bar-On, “Transnationalism and the French Nouvelle Droite,” Patterns of Prejudice 45, no. 3 (July 2011): 199–223.

Roger Griffin, “Between Metapolitics and Apoliteia: The Nouvelle Droite’s Strategy for Conserving the Fascist Vision in the ‘Interregnum,’” Modern & Contemporary France 8, no. 1 (Feb. 2000): pp. 35–53.

Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream (New York: Random House, 1972)

The Nouvelle Droit and Online Discourse – Andrew Devenish

As a political movement and “cultural school of thought” formed in France in 1968, the Nouvelle Droit (or ND) gave a new paradigm for the right in Europe, allowing the right to take inspiration from CR thinkers who supported fascism. While Bor-an says the ND is not a fascist movement, it has connections and roots in fascism. When he was accused of covert racism and fascism by Roger Griffin, Alain de Benoist ardently denied these claims, instead calling himself an “anti-fascist” and “anti-racist”. Benoist does not believe that the way forward for Europe is in socialism or liberalism, and that electoral politics or violence is not the way to power. Instead, Benoist wants to implement a vision of a pan-European “Europe of a Hundred Flags” in which every regional ethnicity would have sovereignty, and the way to achieve this is through a cultural hegemony in which the ND comes to control the dominant values in society.

Bor-an argues that the ND and Benoist, with their “politically correct” language and the CR legacy of an “anti-fascist fascism” have influenced many movements on the right since the 1970s, and I would argue that these ideas continue to influence the right to this day, specifically prominently in online discourse. You can see much of the ND in political discourse online today, with many people using the “politically correct” language of the ND, with less innocuous political ideas hiding behind that language, just like with the ND itself. Specifically, the idea of the “Europe of a Hundred Flags”, is similar to the ideas that are featured prominently in right-wing political discussions online today. This is the idea that every ethnic group deserves its own sovereign identity and political organization, and that immigrants should be expelled so that each country in Europe can be its own homogenous society, with Europe as a continent being “regionally diverse”. However, there is one major difference between the ND and this online political discourse – Christianity. Since the ND is a pagan movement and much of the online right that espouses ND-esque language and views, this is one area where the two groups would have major disagreements, and as Bor-an notes, this pagan orientation is a major reason why the ND has struggled to find allies in the past. However, it hasn’t fully stopped the ND from making alliances in the past, and whether the ND and online right have any actual direct connections or not, they have many similarities in their tactics and strategies.

The Existence of the LGBTQ+ Community Within Nazi Ideology

The Holocaust is perceived as indiscriminate in its systematic persecution against members of minority groups. Millions of fatalities of innocent civilians across Nazi conquest territory of WWII alludes to its unwavering hatred of those that did not fit social norms of that era. However, modern intersectionality has caused dissonance within the public and scholarly reaction to the LGBTQ+ population in relation to sociocultural values of the Nazi era. A German mural paying homage to the deaths of gay men has been criticized for its exclusion of lesbian women, who faced violence from the Nazi party. Academia is divided – many scholars suggest that Nazis had far stricter laws for gay men than lesbian women and therefore they should be excluded as their plight was far less brutal. Other academics find it absurd that they are excluded, for they faced persecuted as a full stop. These scholars choose to not look at persecution as a gradient or by levels, but by acknowledging that persecution is unsavoury regardless of the volume.

For this response, the language used is now observed to be obviously incorrect and offensive. With ease, this response denounces the derogatory connotations used, especially concerning “transvestite” and “masculine presenting women.”

The author focuses on one particular case study of Ilse Totzke, a German lesbian woman. Not only was she a more “masculine” presenting woman, but scrutinized for her fraternization with Jewish people. This one facet of her life is drawn upon immensely – the author suggests that because she was a “masculine” female, she was already under scrutiny but it was her willingness to interact with Jews that solidified suspicion. The position the author takes on this matter is that while lesbianism was illegal, it was not as rigorously enforced under the stipulation that the lesbian person in question was not deviating away from other norms. The dichotomy of what constituted a “proper” German during the Holocaust is rife with dissonance, especially towards members of the LGBTQ+ community. Being a gay man was unchallengedly illegal, however lesbian women and “transvestites (those who presented as male but were female)” had fewer systematic barriers and law. For this reason, the author suggests Totzke could have lived a quite existence during the Holocaust even though she was in the company of Jewish peoples assuming she did not present physically how she did. The author continued passed the Totzke case study to examine the flippant laws between countries under the same jurisdiction – Austria had specific anti-lesbian laws, however Germany did not; “moral endangerment” of a minor under 16 was illegal as well as being “asocial (however there is no rigorous definition of asocial that the author provides).” The Gestapo could put anyone under protective custody en route to a concentration camp for seemingly no proper reason. The Nazi regime operated, seemingly, under arbitrary law that suited particular cases instead of particular people.

The author makes compelling arguments, however, employs few statistics but opts more for anecdotes and witness testimony. While these insights are valuable in formulating a robust understanding of the moral hierarchy and dichotomy of the Nazi era, it does not provide an entire scope about lesbianism and perception of lesbian women of this time.

The Man and the State in the Fascist Dream

This week, the readings explore ideas of masculinity, femininity and sexuality under Fascist regimes. It is perhaps Thomas Kühne and Valentin Săndulescu works that gave most credence to my assertion that the ideology and physicality of men were used as symbols of Fascist regimes. The need to both see and identify the Fascist state is a tool of transmittance of the Fascist ideology that validates the legitimacy of the state and indoctrinates others under its guiding hand; a motivator for Mussolini among other leaders and a sentiment I have previously explored here: https://hate2point0.com/2019/10/01/transmitting-fascism/ ).

The man and the state in the fascist dream are one, they are an inseparable unit where one gives living breathing life to the next. The idealist Fascist cause that George L. Moose argued satisfies “a deep need for activism combined with identification, it [Fascism] seemed to embody their vision of a classless society.” If we consider Fascism as a revolutionary form of systemic revolt there is no need to depart from the arguments of Gilbert Allardyce’s “What Fascism Is Not” and Federico Finchelstein, “Introduction: Thinking Fascism and Populism in terms of the Past”, which was read and discussed in week two. Both authors asserted a form of Fascism that is obsessed with newness, a breaking of the past and as Roger Griffin (quoted by Finchelstein) pointed out “a longing for a new order, a new nation, not just a reformed old nation”.  This week’s article by Săndulescu gives us an illustrative historical example in Codreanu’s Legion of Archangel Michael in Romania where a ‘new nation’ is constructed through a ‘new man’.

The ‘man’ of the Fascist cause was one already under the command of the regime – the solider. The favourability of Fascists regimes towards the militarization of the state positioned the solider to serve as an ambassador to its brand and transmit the very essence of the state within and outside its boarders, with the assurance of loyalty and service to the Fascist cause. “The ideal man” wrote Kühne,” embodied by the soldier, was tough and aggressive, in control of his body, mind, and psyche.” The soldiers of a militarized state had passed what Kühne referred to as “school of manliness that transformed ‘weak’ (i.e., feminine) boys into ‘hard,’ real men.” The trope of the hardened man gave the state a body that could interact with the world and demonstrate the strength of the nation. When Hitler’s Nazi’s marched, the state marched, when they were struck down the state was struck down, and when they ‘progressed’ towards an Aryan race the nation ‘progressed’ by virtue of their action.

It is here that the physicality of the solider meet the ideology of the state which served as a unifying force for the collective cause. Kühne explained that the “army served as the “school of the nation,” merging men of different civilian identities, classes, religions, and regions into a homogenous body of citizens able to replace or even dismiss their particularist civilian identities on behalf of a communal, soldierly one. ” Whichever difference may have emerged among men in Aryan Germany or the ‘new’ Romania would surely be connected by the Fascist dream.

Transmitting Fascism

 

In thinking about the culture of fascism either in Spain, Germany or Italy it is important to consider the political motivations of the state. In the case of these three fascist regimes it was in the interest of the state to engage the international community to gain a sense of legitimacy. The legitimizing power of international community is rooted in the 1933 Montevideo Convention that outlines the defining language for statehood. The ability for state to operate outside its borders was granted under the assumption the government was de jure and not simply de facto, the importance being that the latter simply governed the state, but the prior was expected to do so by the International community. For leaders like Franco Hitler, or Mussolini whose rise to power undermined the image of a new ‘more stable’ nation that they aimed to convey, it was crucial to receive support for the Fascist regimes. By recognizing the governments as legitimate governing bodies leaders like Franco were able to solidify the narrative that they were the best choice for constructing a new nation and that they had the political buy in to do so.

To appeal to the International community and demonstrate on a global stage that a fascist government was indeed the legitimate government of their respective states and that Fascism could be a legitimate governance model states opted to use tourism as a legitimizing tool for the Fascist state. In thinking about tourism, it was not uncommon in the early 20th century for other democratic states to use tourism as a form of cultural diplomacy. See more on the diplomacy in the interwar period here: https://www.age-of-the-sage.org/history/diplomacy_world_war_one.html

For Germany, the state-run tourism organization Strength through Joy (kdf) sent German’s into the what we now call the Global south in an effort to formulate a cultural exchange. German’s entering the region would transmit an image of Germany mush like Umbach has argued the photographs have done. Baranowski points out that German’s were sent to curated destinations in order to ensure that Nazi regime was seen as building a new and better life. The ‘cultural exchange’ of German’s to other places gave Germany two faces: one that faced out and was humanized by everyday German’s and one that faced inward towards the German’s of the ‘new Germany’.

Franco’s regime in Spain and Mussolini’s in Italy were not exempt from the use of touristic diplomacy. Spain brought the world to its doorstep once again showing the outward face of the Fascist state but this time it was interestingly done within Spanish boarders. Crumbaugh wrote that the development of Spain involved the “active participation of the entire Spanish population.” For Spain the culture of the ‘new nation’ was solidified against what it was and artificially created a sense of uniformity among Spaniards, particularly when juxtaposed against tourists. In Italy the OND, as De Grazia wrote, focused on the internal tourism of the ‘new Italy’. Connecting rural and urban communities across Italy to bring about a sense of collective comradeship.

Across borders and across times, what we have seen is the ability for Fascists state to enter the international community under the vail of tourism only deliver an image of the ‘new nation’ is and what the return what the ‘new nation’ ought to be to their home countries.

 

The Memory of Fascism

By: Nadiya Alexandra

In Selfhood, Place and Ideology in German Photo Albums, 1933-1945, Maiken Umbach discusses the relationship between amateur snapshots and propagandisctic and commercial photos. The discussion of mass photography having a transformative effect at the time is fascinating, however, I would like to refute one of Umbach’s arguments:

“Spectacle during fascism was not merely an ideological ploy used by a regime to manipulate a population. It was coproduced by countless actors, from above, from below, and, most typically, from in between”

It is conceivable that the spectacle of fascism was coproduced, however, I do not find the photographs from that era as evidence of this claim. Or, at the very least, I would argue that this “coproduction” in the form of photography was not as intentional as Umbach suggests. On the other hand, the production of propagandistic and commercial photos was intentional, and I think offers more insight and opportunity for analysis.

In studying civilian snapshots, there are a few problems. Firstly, as Umbach admits, it is often impossible to tell if an image from civilian life was taken in the 1920s, 30s or 40s, as many photos did not have captions. This makes linking civilian photographs to fascism difficult. Secondly, Umbach discusses the style of photos produced as “risk-averse”; this implies that German civilians knew there was danger to be aware of. However, in Strength through Joy – Consumerism and Mass Tourism, Shelley Baranowski points out that many Aryan Germans were blissfully unaware of the terror and tragedy faced by second-class people. Additionally, Baranowski points out that many Strength through Joy (KdF) tourists, “ignored or trivialized Nazi terror and the regime’s minacious foreign policy.” If we assume that Baranowski is correct here, why was there a need to produce risk-averse photos?

Umbach also describes German civilian photo stereotypes, such as “the natural German,” “good times,” and “on the road.” The argument concerning “good times” is that these photos show an alignment with the way the regime sought to “naturalize” political ambitions. However, could there be a more simple explanation for these kinds of photos? In my opinion, people generally try to take photos to capture and display happy memories (unless they are photographers). Even today, most people’s Facebook and Instagram profiles are carefully curated to show the best parts of one’s life. Even in times of turmoil, I think is a natural human reaction, or even coping mechanism, to capture and hold on to the “good times.”

Another one of Umbach’s arguments is that “on the road” photographs show a fetishization of roads and vehicles, and “a clear sense that roads…are seen as spaces of a peculiar charismatic power, as trajectories, literally and metaphorically for transporting smiling travelers into a brave new world.” Again, I question how intentional these actions were from the amateur photographers, or how unique the obsession with travel was to Nazi Germany? Perhaps an argument can be made here that such photos show Germany’s striving for modernity?           

Again, my main question to Umbach is how intentional was this alleged coproduction of ideology from below? Was there indeed an ideology at play here? My guess would be that many of the civilian photos were taken without much thought for political ideology or risk-aversion. I think that the quantity of “good times” photos and “on the road” photos cannot be argued as showing production of ideology from below. However, this does not mean that there was not coproduction of ideology from below at all. Going back to the idea of the pragmatism of fascism, focus on travel and leisure was a very pragmatic strategy to keep the support from German civilians. Fascism had to be responsive to be pragmatic.  

Exporting Fascism

Nation-states are in a constant competition to elevate their economy above that of every other economy to have a monopoly and hegemony on innovation. 20th century Spain followed these highly competitive attempts at innovation using tourism. Tourism did not act solely to render Spain as an economic beneficiary – Mediterranean scenery and culture speak to their own prowess –  but also acted as a soft power that included civilians and government. Crumbaugh focuses on the relationship between the business of tourism and fascism. Not only does it discuss the ability to maintain fascism through enterprise and the socioeconomic changes that ensue.

The changes of an economic landscape originated to solidify the Spanish dictatorship with this new impressive wave of revenue that was unparalleled by anything else observed in Europe at the time. The unrest of the 1960s on a global scale had Spain projecting its economic insecurities into a new format. A combination of leftist resistance movements, nationalist movements in Catalonia and the Basque regions, and student protests caused an uneasy government to embark on tourism. The introduction of tourism correlated with a massive economic increase and per capita income increase from $300 to $1500 in only a decade. Spanish civilians used this opportunity methodically – the new ability to accrue vast sums of wealth had a massive labour shift. Fishermen began to abandon their fishing rods and use their boats to ferry tourists around scenic coasts. The new economic freedoms under a once stringent regime simultaneously advanced Spain’s economy and removed previous barriers. Spaniards could now travel in and out of Spain, experience new cultures, and were subsequently exposed to new ideology through travel. The government had intended tourism to be methodical to export Spain’s brand of dictatorship. Similarly to not being able to avert one’s eyes from a car crash, being able to experience a totalitarian regime in real time has the same affect. Spain may be the propagator of dictator tourism, especially in its ability to expose on a civilian level political abilities, but this concept has transcended borders and boundaries. The Spanish model of economic advancements highlight a positive correlation between thriving industry and overall freedom. As Cumbaugh suggests, the acceleration of money and freedom of jobs translated into freedom of movement which gave civil society unpredicted access to overall advancements and led to the decline of the regime.

Contemporary Spain is no longer a dictatorship. Cumbagh accurately suggests that tourism simultaneously propelled Spanish freedoms while undermining the government that introduced them, however he fails to address the overall citizen opinion.

Do We Need Fascists?

In the early 20th century Mussolini became a master of narrative construction as he sought to reform Italy. However, Mussolini did not rise to power simply owed to factors outside his own control but, with the aid of narratives. Narratives that conjured fear the hearts and minds of the Italian people and painted an image that required their response. Fascism as a movement utilized the trope of a sick patient (as many veterans of war at the time once were) to argue that Italian nation had been taken by disease. As Ruth Ben-Ghiat wrote in her 2004 book Fascist Modernities: Italy, 1922-1945, Alfredo Rocco, and other nationalist thinkers such as Scipio Sighele and Enrico Corradini argued a need for “order and collective discipline at home” given the “ ‘congenital Italian illness’ of excessive individualism that had supposedly hindered Italy’s progress as an imperial force” (Ben-Ghiat 2004, 18). Mussolini continued these tropes calling Italy “unhealthy”, “sick”, “infected” and calling for “necessary hygienic action”.

Ultimately, Mussolini rose to power as the great healer that would bandage the Italian nation and pull the state from the brink of death. However, in the lead up to and the duration of Mussolini’s fascist administration there were great measures enacted to ensure that the Italian people would continue to choose the Mussolini regime as the surgical hand by which they would be rid of ‘infection’. The ‘infection’ of individualism and a troubled nation that Italians were told that they had.

This gave credence to policies enacted from 1925-1929, as Ben-Ghiat wrote, to effectively create a police state in Italy, autonomous organization such as the mafia were made to organize in line with the objectives of the nation-state. Fascist Italy made and re-made organizations and the histories that went along with them to ensure one collective narrative was shared among the Italian people. This narrative was indoctrinated by the national fascist organization known as Opera Nazionale Dopolavoro (OND), State controlled media, and intellectuals such as Luigi Pirandello whose careers benefited from the intervention of the Fascist regime. In the case of Pirandello, Ben-Ghiat pointed out that he was recommended to the Italian Academy for his support to the nation.

The very people those being intellectuals, thinkers and artists who work to critically analyze the business of those in positions of power accepted that the “world of ideas ran on a strictly parallel course with that of the dictatorship” (Ben-Ghiat 2004, 23) and not in opposition to it. The work of intellectuals within the system were Mussolini declared it “permissible to advance objective judgments on art, prose, poetry, and theater without the threat of a veto due to an irregular party card” (quoted in Ben-Ghiat 2004, 23) kept the surgical hand of Mussolini steady.

The Italian nation ultimately needed a fascist solely because the Italian people were told they needed one. The push for intellectuals and policy makers to speak with the same breath put Italy, in the eyes of the Fascist regime, in a “privileged position” over other states. But the limits of Fascism was tested from within as the old men and ideas were faced with modernity in a Fascist sphere.