Meanwhile, almost all of Italy's most famous and admired young intellectuals and artists were Fascists or Fascist sympathizers (the most notable exception was the literary critic Benedetto Croce). Giovanni Papini, the "magical pragmatist" so admired by William James, was deeply involved in the various intellectual movements that created Fascism. Papini's Life of Christ — a turbulent, almost hysterical tour de force chronicling his acceptance of Christianity — caused a sensation in the United States in the early 1920s. Giuseppe Prezzolini, a frequent contributor to the New Republic who would one day become a respected professor at Columbia University, was one of Fascism's earliest literary and ideological architects. F. T. Marinetti, the founder of the Futurist movement — which in America was seen as an artistic companion to Cubism and Expressionism — was instrumental in making Italian Fascism the world's first successful "youth movement." America's education establishment was keenly interested in Italy's "breakthroughs" under the famed "schoolmaster" Benito Mussolini, who, after all, had once been a teacher.
Perhaps no elite institution in America was more accommodating to Fascism than Columbia University. In 1926 it established Casa Italiana, a center for the study of Italian culture and a lecture venue for prominent Italian scholars. It was Fascism's "veritable home in America" and a "schoolhouse for budding Fascist ideologues," according to John Patrick Diggins. Mussolini himself had contributed some ornate Baroque furniture to Casa Italiana and had sent Columbia's president, Nicholas Murray Butler, a signed photo thanking him for his "most valuable contribution" to the promotion of understanding between Fascist Italy and the United States.9 Butler himself was not an advocate of fascism for America, but he did believe it was in the best interests of the Italian people and that it had been a very real success, well worth studying. This subtle distinction — fascism is good for Italians, but maybe not for America — was held by a vast array of prominent liberal intellectuals in much the same way some liberals defend Castro's communist "experiment."
While academics debated the finer points of Mussolini's corporatist state, mainstream America's interest in Mussolini far outstripped that of any other international figure in the 1920s. From 1925 to 1928 there were more than a hundred articles written on Mussolini in American publications and only fifteen on Stalin.10 For more than a decade the New York Times's foreign correspondent Anne O'Hare McCormick painted a glowing picture of Mussolini that made the Times's later fawning over Stalin seem almost critical. The New York Tribune was vexed to answer the question: Was Mussolini Garibaldi or Caesar? Meanwhile, James A. Farrell, the head of U.S. Steel, dubbed the Italian dictator "the greatest living man" in the world.
Hollywood moguls, noting his obvious theatrical gifts, hoped to make Mussolini a star of the big screen, and he appeared in The Eternal City (1923), starring Lionel Barrymore. The film recounts the battles between communists and Fascists for control of Italy, and — mirabile dictu — Hollywood takes the side of the Fascists. "His deportment on the screen," one reviewer proclaimed, "lends weight to the theory that this is just where he belongs."11 In 1933 Columbia Pictures released a "documentary" called Mussolini Speaks — supervised by Il Duce himself. Lowell Thomas — the legendary American journalist who had made Lawrence of Arabia famous — worked closely on the film and provided fawning commentary throughout. Mussolini was portrayed as a heroic strongman and national savior. When the crescendo builds before Mussolini gives a speech in Naples, Thomas declares breathlessly, "This is his supreme moment. He stands like a modern Caesar!" The film opened to record business at the RKO Palace in New York. Columbia took out an ad in Variety proclaiming the film a hit in giant block letters because "it appeals to all RED BLOODED AMERICANS" and "it might be the ANSWER TO AMERICA'S NEEDS."
Fascism certainly had its critics in the 1920s and 1930s. Ernest Hemingway was skeptical of Mussolini almost from the start. Henry Miller disliked Fascism's program but admired Mussolini's will and strength. Some on the so-called Old Right, like the libertarian Albert J. Nock, saw Fascism as just another kind of statism. The nativist Ku Klux Klan — ironically, often called "American fascists" by liberals — tended to despise Mussolini and his American followers (mainly because they were immigrants). Interestingly, the hard left had almost nothing to say about Italian Fascism for most of its first decade. While liberals were split into various unstable factions, the American left remained largely oblivious to Fascism until the Great Depression. When the left did finally start attacking Mussolini in earnest — largely on orders from Moscow — they lumped him in essentially the same category as Franklin Roosevelt, the socialist Norman Thomas, and the progressive Robert La Follette.12
We'll be revisiting how American liberals and leftists viewed Fascism in subsequent chapters. But first it seems worth asking, how was this possible? Given everything we've been taught about the evils of fascism, how is it that for more than a decade this country was in significant respects pro-fascist? Even more vexing, how is it — considering that most liberals and leftists believe they were put on this earth to oppose fascism with every breath — that many if not most American liberals either admired Mussolini and his project or simply didn't care much about it one way or the other?
The answer resides in the fact that Fascism was born of a "fascist moment" in Western civilization, when a coalition of intellectuals going by various labels — progressive, communist, socialist, and so forth — believed the era of liberal democracy was drawing to a close. It was time for man to lay aside the anachronisms of natural law, traditional religion, constitutional liberty, capitalism, and the like and rise to the responsibility of remaking the world in his own image. God was long dead, and it was long overdue for men to take His place. Mussolini, a lifelong socialist intellectual, was a warrior in this crusade, and his Fascism — a doctrine he created from the same intellectual material Lenin and Trotsky had built their movements with — was a grand leap into the era of "experimentation" that would sweep aside old dogmas and usher in a new age. This was in every significant way a project of the left as we understand the term today, a fact understood by Mussolini, his admirers, and his detractors. Mussolini declared often that the nineteenth century was the century of liberalism and the twentieth century would be the "century of Fascism." It is only by examining his life and legacy that we can see how right — and left — he was.