“Idealism increases in direct proportion to one’s distance from the problem.” Or as I like to say, your ability to put up with a problem is your distance from it. If you’re over 40, you probably think fascism means Mussolini’s Italy or Hitler’s Germany — a corporatist system where state and business fused into a one-party authoritarian project. That’s the old poli-sci definition I learned back at GWU in 1988. But ask someone under 40 and you’ll get a different answer. For them, “fascism” covers almost anything patriotic or traditional: flags, borders, religion, even just opposing socialism. That shift comes from Umberto Eco’s Ur-Fascism, which broadened the word into a set of cultural vibes — nationalism, anti-communism, loyalty to the flag. In practice, it became a smear. By that measure, mainstream Cold War America was “fascist.” McCarthy’s 1950s, Reagan’s 1980s — even Obama, with his deportations and patriotic rhetoric, fits the new label. Which makes no sense to normies who grew up believing their grandparents defeated fascism in WWII. And there’s a third wrinkle. Today’s activist left uses “anti-fascist” in a totally different way — less Normandy, more Mao. It echoes anti-colonial rage, China’s “century of humiliation,” and revolutionary energy grafted onto Western identity politics. In that frame, antifascism isn’t about fighting Nazis. It’s about dismantling borders, patriotism, capitalism itself. So we’ve got three definitions colliding. The textbook version: corporatism and dictatorship. The normie version: America killed fascism in 1945. And the activist version: fascism is anything resembling national pride. No wonder generations are talking past each other. Over-40 Americans hear “fascist” and think Hitler. Under-40 activists hear “fascist” and think Dad with a flag in the yard. And that’s the trap: if everyone is fascist, then the word means nothing. This is Chris Abraham, and this has been The Chris Abraham Show.
