In Is Russia Fascist? (Cornell University Press), author Marlene Laruelle argues that the charge of "fascism" has become a strategic narrative of the current world order. The ruling Russian regime has increasingly been accused of embracing fascism, supposedly evidenced by Russia's annexation of Crimea, its historical revisionism, attacks on liberal democratic values, and its support for far-right movements in Europe. But at the same time, Russia has branded itself as the world's preeminent antifascist power because of its sacrifices during the Second World War, while emphasizing how opponents to the Soviet Union in Central and Eastern Europe collaborated with Nazi Germany.
By labeling ideological opponents as fascist, regardless of their actual values or actions, geopolitical rivals are able to frame their own vision of the world and claim the moral high ground. Through a detailed examination of the Russian domestic scene and the Kremlin's foreign policy rationales, Laruelle disentangles the foundation for, meaning, and validity of accusations of fascism in and around Russia.
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University, questions the current trend of charging Russia with the label of fascism.
In order to disentangle this puzzle with so many actors accusing each other of the same evil, Laruelle offers a comprehensive analysis of the mutual accusation of fascism around Russia, looking at both the Russian domestic scene and the Kremlin’s foreign policy.
Russia is a great case study to contribute to the discussion on fascism, according to Laruelle. First, it helps identify the boundaries of fascism: how many fascist features must a regime accumulate to be labelled fascist? Second, Russia illustrates the tensions existing between fascism as a generic notion, and in each historically specific context: for instance, can there exist a culturally Russified fascism that would still be anti-fascist in the sense that it is opposed to European versions of fascism? Third, because the Putin regime took the lead in a new moralism and has developed an illiberal ideology, it constitutes a unique ground for a better-refined discussion on why today’s illiberalism should not be labelled fascism.
A key aspect to the book is its exploration of ‘World War II memory’, a cornerstone of Russia’s political and cultural consensus under Putin. Russia’s foundational myth, alive since the 1970s, is centred on the ‘war against fascism’, and is still understood today by the Russian public opinion as an event of mythic proportions. The war conveys such profound meanings that it continues to form the backbone of social consensus in Russia—manifesting, more broadly, today’s nostalgia for late Soviet culture and Soviet welfare. Yet for the regime, Russia’s struggle against fascism does not simply belong to the past; the crusade is ongoing. Long before the war with Ukraine in 2014, the notion of Russia as the anti-fascist power par excellence was already set in stone in both elite discourse and public opinion.
In the context of the 2014 war with Ukraine, accusations of Russia being fascist have intensified and developed, but this is also part of a larger trend of the use of Reductio ad Hitlerum, ‘playing the Nazi card’, as a new tool for character assassination in international affairs. This broader context is rooted in the recent rise of illiberal movements and ideologies, of which Russia is often seen as the vanguard, main funder or hidden hand.
Russia’s self-perception as an anti-fascist power has been reinforced by ‘memory wars’ that have reshaped the relationship between Russia and its Central and Eastern European neighbours since the early 2000s. The emergence and gradual visibility gained by the narrative of the Soviet Union as an occupier with a totalitarian ideology equal to that of Nazism has deeply shocked the Russian elite and public opinion. The Kremlin’s answer to this shift has been to reinforce the conventional vision of the war elaborated during the Cold War decades and then shared with the West. Memory wars have thus focused on the issue of defining who was fascist and who colluded with Nazism—the Soviet Union between 1939 and 1941 (cooperating with Berlin in this period and signing the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact in 1939 that allowed it to occupy parts of Poland and Finland and annex the Baltic states) or political forces in Central and Eastern Europe who collaborated with Nazi Germany, in particular in the Holocaust?
Despite the fact that Russian citizens share the official narrative of their country as the epitome of anti-fascism, the country also hosts a vivid far-right landscape. While these groups are not a product of the Kremlin, their presence in the public space partly contributes to the blurring of Russia’s anti-fascism posture. Laruelle’s book questions if the Kremlin has been favouring some of these radical groups and insists on the regime’s large ideological plurality, with several ecosystems competing with each other, of which far-right is only a component among many others.
At the same time as the Kremlin successfully manages and maintains control over grassroots fascist tendencies at home, it has developed a policy of reaching out globally to far-right and populist parties in the West. But here too, this alliance with the far right constitutes only one component of a rich toolkit of soft power that also comprises strengthening economic ties, especially energy partnerships; networking with big European businesses that are able to lobby their respective governments; and relaunching an offensive public diplomacy. That said, Russia’s decision to support European far right parties in the hope of weakening liberal values has been a core element contributing to the accusation of fascism advanced against Moscow.
Laruelle argues that out of the array of core components that qualify a regime as fascist, Russia displays only one: a constituted paramilitary culture directly supported by state institutions. The rise in power of security services and the revival of youth military training has nurtured the re-creation of a traditional form of masculinity that is shaped by bodily training, male camaraderie, a sense of sacrifice for the nation, the ability to accept pain, and, in some cases, the idea of regeneration through violence. The book describes an environment in which playing with weapons is an ersatz phallic exercise. On this auspicious soil, paramilitary groups, the ideological language which finds itself at ease with the fascist imagery and body language aesthetics can prosper. The glamorous and very macho image of the president cultivated by the Russian public relations machine has also contributed to the consolidation of a traditional manliness. The advancement of Russian and Asian martial arts, especially of sambo and mixed martials arts—resulting in what some call a ‘judocracy’, as the president has patronised many figures who once studied martial arts alongside him—has been one of Putin’s most enduring pet projects.
Ultimately, Laruelle contends that the current polemics around fascism should be understood as the epitome of the difficult dialogue between Russia and the West. Mastering the label of ‘who is fascist’ will decide what the ideal Europe should be. If Russia is fascist, then Russia is to be excluded from Europe and portrayed as its antithesis, the ‘other’ to all the values embedded in the notion of Europe: liberalism, democracy, multilateralism, transatlantic commitment. However, if Moscow declares that Europe is once again becoming ‘fascist’—if the ideological status quo over the 1945 victory is contested—then Russia points out a pathway for the ‘real’ Europe to recover, a road rooted in Christian, conservative, geopolitically continental and nation-centric politics and culture. The current fight to identify who is fascist is thus a struggle to define the boundaries of Europe and the inclusion or exclusion of Russia. Only time will tell us if a more nuanced interpretation of the past, and therefore a more consensual vision of Europe’s relationship to Russia, can be achieved.
Is Russia Fascist? Unravelling Propaganda of East and West is available now in hardcover and ebook formats from Cornell Press at bit.ly/rpodrussia [W1] and through links in the description for this episode.
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