How Fascismo Was Created:Its Evolution and Essence

Speech delivered at the Teatro Comunale of Bologna, 3rd April 1921.

Bologna, the capital of the so-called red region of Emilia, a region thought to be lost to the Italian State as far as laws and authority were concerned, from the 2nd to the 4th of April passed through truly memorable days.

The learned and noble city, with its fine patriotic traditions, whose very walls recall the popular and patrician insurrection against the Austrians, welcomed Benito Mussolini with manifestations of solidarity and veneration such as were accorded to Giuseppe Garibaldi. For if the latter was a liberator from foreign tyranny, the former had been no less a liberator from an equal tyranny, arising from similar causes, although materialised through different means and by different agents living in our midst.

All who witnessed those enthusiastic manifestations instantly perceived that the problem of Italian internal politics was now solved by the definite defeat of that parasitic, anti-National Socialism, the enemy of liberty, which had chosen the Valle Padana as the most suitable experimental field for the fecundation of the microbes of Collectivist Utopia, and incidentally for the exploitation of the masses of the proletariat.

Fascisti of Emilia and Romagna—Citizens of Bologna! I feel that I might be carried out of that sphere of eloquence which is mine by all the circumstances of this meeting, beginning with the welcomes of yesterday evening and the songs of last night, and ending with this magnificent sea of heads and the greeting which I received with the greatest veneration from the widow of our unforgettable Giulio Giordani, and the presence of two heroic women, the widows of the two heroes, Battisti and Venezian. (Applause.) But as I hope, and am almost certain, that you do not expect eloquence from me, but a short abrupt speech as is my habit, I will proceed to speak clearly in the Fascista manner.

How Fascismo was born. I thank my friend Grandi for having presented me to you and with such flattering words. I do not think, however, that I am guilty of the sin of pride if I accept them. I think I may say, in accordance with Socrates, that I know myself. (Applause.)

How then was this Fascismo born; amid what conflicting passions, sympathy, hatred, and lack of comprehension? It was not only born in my mind and heart, in that meeting held in March 1919 in the little hall at Milan, it was born of the profound and perennial need of this our Mediterranean and Aryan race, which felt the essential foundations of its existence threatened by a tragic folly which will crumble to pieces, to-day, upon the ground on which it was raised.

We felt then—we, who were not penitent Magdalens; we, who had always had the courage to uphold intervention and reason in those days of 1915; we, who were not ashamed of having barred the way to Austria on the Piave and having crushed her at Vittorio Veneto; we, who wished for a victorious peace, felt at once, almost before the exultation of victory had passed, that our task was not ended, and I, myself, felt that my work was not done. As a matter of fact, at every turn of events it was said that my task and the task of the forces I lead was accomplished. In May 1915, when the Fascismo of Revolutionary Action had swept away all neutralists from the streets and squares of Italy, even in the smallest villages, it was said: “Mussolini has no more to say to the nation.” But when the tragic days of Caporetto came and Milan was grey and ghastly for those who felt that if the Austrians passed and came to the city of the Cinque Giornate it would be the end of Italy, then we felt that we still had a word to say. And again, after victory, when there arose the more or less democratic school of renunciation which was intent upon mutilating the victory, we Fascisti had the supreme and unprejudiced courage to proclaim ourselves Imperialists and against all renunciation.

That was the first battle, fought in the theatre of the Scala in January 1919. But how did it happen? We had won; we had sacrificed the flower of our youth, and they came to us with bills of usury and extortion! They disputed with us the sacred boundaries of the country, and there were Democrats in Italy, whose democracy consisted in Imperialism for others and no Imperialism for us, who threw this ridiculous accusation at us, because we intended that Italy should be bounded on the north by the Brenner, as she shall be while there is Italian blood in Italy! We intended that the eastern boundaries should be at the Nevoso, because that is the just and natural confine of our country; and they accused us because we did not turn deaf ears to the appeal of Fiume, because we feel in our hearts the sufferings of our brothers in Dalmatia, because, in fact, we feel those bonds of race to be alive and vital which bind us, not only to the Italians of Zara, Ragusa and Cattaro, but also to those of the Canton Ticino and Corsica, to those beyond the oceans, to all that great family of fifty million men whom we wish to unite in the same pride of race. (Applause.)

Already we have noticed the first signs of the Socialist offensive. On 16th February, Milan was the witness—to the fear and terror of the trembling middle classes—of a procession of 20,000 Bolshevists, who, after having hymned Lenin from the top of the castle towers, proclaimed that the Bolshevist revolution was imminent.

The Pride of Victory. On the morrow of that day I issued an article,[8] which made an impression also among some friends, and which was entitled, “The Return of the Triumphant Beast.” In it was said: “We are ready to dig trenches in the squares of Italy and set up barbed wire, in order to win and fight to the last against the enemy.” And the sabotage, begun with that parade, lasted all the summer.

[8] Popolo d’Italia, 17th Feb. 1919.

Also, in those days, we Fascisti had the courage to defend certain actions which, measured by the standard of current morals, perhaps were indefensible. But, gentlemen, war is like revolution, it must be taken as a whole; detail cannot and must not be gone into. But, meanwhile, the campaign had its results upon the elections. One million eight hundred and fifty thousand electors registered their vote with the symbol of the sickle and the hammer. One hundred and fifty-six deputies were returned to the Chamber. The catastrophe seemed imminent. Then I was fished out, a suicide(!) of the waters—not by any means too limpid—of the old Naviglio!

But one thing had been forgotten—our tenacious spirit and sometimes indomitable will. I, proud of my four thousand votes—and those who saw me in those days know how immovably I accepted that electoral response—said, “The battle goes on!” Because I firmly believed that the day would come in which the Italians would be ashamed of the elections of 16th November, that the day would come in which the Italians would no longer elect in two cities that ignoble deserter whom I do not wish to name. And it has proved true, because this man to-day, not being able to maintain his part in the drama, has descended from the stage and, having despised the Guardie Regie, now asks them for protection.

But has the growth of this movement of Fascismo, this young ardent and heroic movement, finished yet? I, who vindicate the paternity of this, my creature so overflowing with life, feel sometimes that it has already overstepped the modest boundaries I laid down for it. Now we Fascisti have a clear programme; we must move on led by a pillar of fire, because we are slandered and not understood. And, however much violence may be deplored, it is evident that we, in order to make our ideas understood, must beat refractory skulls with resounding blows.

Necessary Violence. But we do not make a school, a system or, worse still, an æsthetic of violence. We are violent when it is necessary to be so. But I tell you at once that this necessary violence on the part of the Fascisti must have a character and style of its own, definitely aristocratic, or, if you prefer, surgical.

Our punitive expeditions, all those acts of violence which figure in the papers, must always have the character of a just retort and legitimate reprisal; because we are the first to recognise that it is sad, after having fought the external enemy, to have to fight the enemy within, who, whether they like it or not, are Italians. But it is necessary, and as long as it is necessary, we shall continue to carry out this hard and thankless task.

Now the Democrats, the Republicans and the Socialists accuse us of various things. The Socialists, hitherto, have said that we were sold to the profiteers and the agrarians. Now there are not enough profiteers in the whole of Italy to support a movement like ours, and in any case I must say that they would be rather stupid profiteers, because from the March of 1919 we, in our Fascista programmes, have laid down fiscal provisions which are pretty heavy and in any case anti-profiteer. The accusations of the Democrats are equally ridiculous, and also those of the Republicans. I cannot explain to myself why the Republicans are against a movement which has republican tendencies like ours. I could understand them being against us if we were in favour of the monarchy. They say to us: “You have no preconceptions.” We have not, and we are proud of it. But you must explain the phenomenon of the anger and the incomprehension of the Socialists. The Socialists had formed a State within a State. If this new State had been more liberal, more modern, nearer the old type, there would have been nothing against it. But this State, and you know it by direct experience, is more tyrannical, illiberal and overbearing than the old one; and for this reason that which we are causing to-day is a revolution to break up the Bolshevist State, while waiting to settle our accounts with the Liberal State which remains. (Applause.)

The Socialist Crisis and the Fascista Attitude to the Elections. There are those who think that the Socialist crisis is only a crisis limited to a few men; but it goes deeper, my dear friends, and it represents a general upheaval.

Among other absurd things, there has been that of baptising Socialism as scientific. Now there is nothing scientific in the world. Science explains the “how” of things, but does not explain the “why.” If, then, there is nothing scientific in what are called the exact sciences, what is more absurd than to try and pass off as scientific a vast, uncertain, underground and dark movement such as Socialism has been, even though it may have had a useful function at first, when it directed the oppressed peoples towards new ways of life, because you will agree with me that there is no turning back? Foolish reactionary and Conservative contraband practices must not be carried on under the Fascista flag. To wrench from the masses the conquests, they have obtained through sacrifice would be impossible. We are the first to recognise that a State law should grant the eight-hour day, and that there should be a social legislation corresponding to the exigencies of the new times. And this is not because we recognise the importance of the proletariat. We look at the question from another point of view. We realise that there cannot be a great nation, capable of doing great things, if the working masses are constrained to live under brutalising conditions. It is necessary, then, that by preaching and practising the reconciliation of right and duty, which I call Mazzinian, this enormous mass of tens of millions of people who work shall be raised to an ever higher level of life.

Brothers, not Enemies! It is absurd to depict us as the enemies of the working classes. We feel ourselves to be brothers in spirit of all those who work; but we do not make distinctions, we do not put work-worn hands into the first rank. We do not place the new divinity, manual labour, upon the altar. For us all work—the astronomer who in his observatory consults the trajectory of the stars, the lawyer, the archæologist, the student of religion and the artist, if they are increasing by their work the sum total of spiritual wealth which is at the disposal of mankind. We wish to see the realisation of a communion between spirit and matter, between the arm and the brain, the realisation of the solidarity of the race.

Fascismo is then the blast of heresy which beats at the doors of all the churches and says to the old and more or less tearful priest: “Get out of the way of these temples which threaten ruin to you, for our triumphant heresy is destined to bring light to all brains and all souls!” And we say to all men, great and small, upon the national political scene: “Make way for the youth of Italy which wishes to affirm its faith and passion. And if you do not make way spontaneously, you will be overwhelmed in our universal punitive expedition, which is to collect all the free spirits of Italy and bind them together in a Fascio.” (Applause.)

We are now face to face with a fact, which is that of the elections. The Chamber being old, and more than old, worn out, the protagonists of this semi-tragedy being tired and misled, it is time to make that new appeal to the electors which is imperative. Do you not feel that, if the elections of 1919 had the character of sabotage, the elections of 1921 will be definitely Fascista? Do you not feel that the helm of State will never return to the old men of the old Italy?

I received a message to-day on the strength of which I feel I can state that the difference, more or less artificially created, which existed between the defenders of Fiume—to whom we pay the homage of our gratitude—and us, her defenders at home, has no more raison d’être. And this difference, which, rather than by the legionaries, was created by certain politicians who were not even at Fiume when it was attacked seriously, will be put an end to by Gabriele d’Annunzio.

The Day consecrated to Fascismo. Another characteristic of Fascismo is pride of nationality. And, in connection with this, I am pleased to tell you that we have already decided the Fascista day. If the Socialists have May Day, if the Popular Party have 15th May, and other parties other days, we Fascisti will have one, too, and it shall be the day of the birth of Rome, 21st April. Upon that day, in token of the eternity of Rome, in memory of that city which gave two civilisations to the world and will give a third, we Fascisti will gather together, and the regional legions will file past in the Fascista order, which is neither military nor German, but simply Roman. We have abolished the procession and substituted this ancient form of manifestation, which imposes individual control on each participator and order and discipline upon all. For we wish to introduce strict national discipline, without which Italy cannot become the Mediterranean and world nation of which we dream. And those who blame us for marching like the Germans must remember that it is not we who imitate the Germans, but they who imitate the Romans, for which reason it is we who go back to the original, who return to the Roman style, the Latin and Mediterranean style.

We have no prejudices, because we are not a church, we are a movement. We are not a party, we are a band of free men. If anyone is tired of being Fascista, there are twenty shops, twenty churches at whose doors to knock and ask for hospitality. We have not institutions either, we consider them superfluous. Ours is an army characterised by enthusiasm and voluntary discipline, and known, above all, not in the light of guardian of some party or faction, but as guardian of the nation. We are known for the love we bear to Italy, to her history and her civilisation, as well as to her inhabitants and geographical constitution.

Yesterday, while the train carried me to Bologna, I felt myself in harmony with all things and all men. I felt bound to this earth; I felt myself an infinitesimal part of that great river which flows from the Alps to the Adriatic; I recognised my brothers in the peasants, those peasants with the grave attitudes of those who work the soil; I saw myself in the blue sky, which awakened my inextinguishable passion for flight; I recognised myself in all the aspects of nature and man. And a profound prayer arose in my heart. It is the prayer that every Italian should make, when the sunrise illumines the sky and the twilight descends over the earth. “We, Italians of the twentieth century, who have witnessed the great tragedy which has brought about the fulfilment of our nationality; we, who carry in the depths of our souls the memory of the dead, who are our religion; we, citizens of Italy, shall make one oath, one single resolution: that we only shall be the modest but persevering builders of her present and future fortunes.” (Applause.)