Mussolini and the Swaying of the Masses
In his youth, he had called himself an “authoritarian communist”‘ some even asserted that clandestinely he was an anarchist. But above all, he was a journalist, a phrase-turner, a war-mongerer, a power-hungry politician with totalitarian intentions. The knowledge he accrued from editing Avanti! and Il Popolo d’Italia led him to believe he had put his finger “on the pulse of the masses” to discover that “in the general mood of disorientation” the public was waiting for him (Mack Smith, 33).
To govern, Mussolini believed one needed only two things: “policemen and bands playing in the streets” (Mack Smith, 148). People needed neither a definite vision nor a comprehensive understanding of what fascism was; rather, if only the regime could give people faith that “mountains [could] be moved,” then people would “accept the illusion that mountains [were] movable (Mack Smith, 23). Indeed, the Italian people saw the illusion for reality and came to head Mussolini’s every word, venerate his every dead. But the chimera could only lasted so long. At his death in 1945, Mussolini left to his successors an Italy destroyed by military defeat and civil war; Mussolini’s own reputation had dissolved reverence into revulsion.
Mussolini’s strong journalistic background, his ingenious and proficient aptitude for manipulating the masses, and the ability to disseminate, simplify and vulgarize information created a brilliant point d’appui: Mussolini knew that the media could be used to win mass support, as a fulcrum into politics.
In fact, on his very first day in office, Mussolini announced that the problems of the South – the plight of the latifondi, the rampant banditry of the countryside, the malaria epidemic in Sardinia, and the shanty towns established after the Messina earthquake fifteen years earlier, would disappear. In the next ten years, Mussolini promises Sicilians would prosper. But twenty years later the Southern problem still existed, despite repeated claims to the contrary. Journalists were not allowed to talk about bandits – only “fugitives from justice” and only when the police captured or killed one. Additionally, the malaria epidemic was only to be described as “intermittent fever” (Mack Smith, 92-93). Ironically, the young man who once abhorred censorship not only now invoked it, but survived by it. The Duce knew all to well the power behind the press; he knew it to be the best method of swaying public opinion; and he knew, therefore, that no one else could have access to it if he were to remain in power. Owners of newspapers suddenly found whole issues burnt by Squadristi on a rampage or sequestered by prefects, severely damaging profits. Editors were personally threatened and indicted on trumped up charges; readers often brutally persuaded to cancel non-fascist newspaper subscriptions (Mack Smith, 68).
On June 20, 1924, arguing that the masses were gullible and it was his duty to protect them from irresponsible editors whose lies were discrediting Italy abroad, Mussolini summoned parliament, dictated new press laws, and bound and gagged all channels of independent thought. Correspondents who smuggled out unfavorable information on the corruption or inefficiency of the regime were expelled from the country’ foreign editors who wanted to keep journalists in Italy were given strict rules to follow and failure to comply led to cabled messages being rendered undecipherable or delayed so long the story was cold. Those who did write obsequiously about the dictator received incredible befits such as bribes from the press office, exemptions from paying taxes and free telegraph services.
The exponential increase of Mussolini’s aggrandizement led to the incremental disappearance of individual independence within the fascist party. Internal differences were mitigated by the fact that open discussion within the party became so difficult. The penal code of 1931 represented “a sharp move away from individual rights to those of the state: fascism wanted juries abolished, strikes and lock-outs made illegal; and merely to injure the prestige of the Duce became a crime (Mack Smith, 168). The maxim “Mussolini is always s right” not merely gained a place in the fascist Decalogue, but became a state of mind. Every aspect of life became politicized, and politics was no long fascism: it was mussolinismo.
As Prime Minister, Mussolini came to believe he was as infallible as the pope, that he needed servants rather than associates. Indeed, the Duce not merely epitomized the movement Emilio Gentile called the “sacralization of politics”; he swallowed it whole and still hungered for more. Through lavish spending, propaganda, modern media, mass rallies and ostentatious displays, Mussolini created a leadership cult, unifying and integrating the population. Mussolini became known as the “Divine Caesar” by High Priests, another St. Francis, “Our spiritual Father” and “sublime redeemer in the roman heavens”; by order of the party, pronouns referring to Him had to be capitalized, just as those referring to the Lord were (Mazower 37; Mack Smith, 163). Mussolini’s picture was displayed on all public buildings, in ships and in offices; his omnipresence permeated streets and towns like a grandiose fog (Mack Smith, 167-168). Schoolteachers were ordered to “magnify this solitary figure, to stress his disinterestedness, his wonderful courage and brilliant mind, and to teach hat obedience to such a man was the highest virtue” (Mack Smith, 124). In short he was a god, at thaumaturge even, and everyone else mere acolytes. It was only a matter of time before the Bible was rewritten and Mussolini given the starring role.
Additionally, the Duce went to great lengths to reinforce his own belief that fascism ought to be “known and respected” throughout the world, that it had to make its will felt abroad so to demonstrate “the fact of its universality” (Mussolini, the Definition of Fascism). He went to those lengths even if that meant creating stories in order to hyperbolize his non-existent popularity. Thus from 1930 forward, official propaganda reported that thought the world the Duce was being called the redeemer of Europe,” the “creator of a new civilization”; journalists invents stories about masses in Britain who were envious of his dictatorial methods, about people in China (most of whom had never heard of Mussolini) who admired the dictator, about an American chorus of individuals who constantly shouted, “if only we had a Mussolini here” (Mack Smith, 171-172).
Fabricating the skill of Italy’s armed forces was equally disastrous. In 1931 Mussolini reminded his generals that they had to be ready for war by 1934, though he did little to re-equip the army or create strategic plans or even pick an enemy. The atrocities committed in Ethiopia in 1935-1936 were ghastly, yet Mussolini continuously reiterated that the Ethiopians viewed the Italian army as liberators bringing civilization, justice and western values. Only those individuals beyond the dictator’s purview knew that Mussolini had spent the entire year’s nation al revenue fighting the war and that the replacement for war material used in Africa were thought, in financial terms, to be the whole military budget for the following three years. Yet Mussolini remained steadfast: “with equal exaggeration he spoke of the new colony as a Ã?¯Ã?¿Ã?½promised land,’ the solution to Italy’s economic problems, whereas in fact it was to prove an enormous drain on her limited resources” (Mack Smith, 201).
Again when readying himself to fight along side the Germans, Mussolini spoke often of the “eight million bayonets” prepared to fight, the eight million soldiers that could be mobilized in a matter of hours – all equipped with modern weaponry (Mack Smith, 214). At one point the number even sky-rocketed to twelve million, but in actuality the figure was much closer to less than a million. Moreover, the Duce’s claim of possessing superior tanks proved elusive; none were heavier than an armored car” (Mack Smith, 214). While Mussolini’s boasting intended to deter enemies and impress Italians, foreigners, including Italy’s German allies, did not believe it. The real damage done was virtually invisible: the Italian people were force-fed unrealistic expectations that made war likely and defeat even more so.
It is almost certain, however, that in deceiving others, Mussolini was also deciding himself. When the Duce spoke of mobilizing ten million men in a single day, of raising a black army of two million soldiers to dominate Africa, or of possessing armored divisions that were somehow self-sufficient in aviation fuel, he must have believed such statements. Furthermore, in cutting of all forms of press censure and in choosing to be surrounded by second-rate functionaries who made their lives selling Mussolini’s nonsense merely to keep their own posts, let alone their lives, the Duce could never have been reproached for his actions. And not until later would the public know how seeped in quicksand they were (238-239).
In hindsight, it is clear that the man who shaved his entire head to obscure the process of aging, who took his meals in private as to hide is poor table manners and dyspepsia, had a penchant for concealing the truth, but for Mussolini “invention was more important than the truth” (Mack Smith, 125). As Henri Bergson once wrote, “what is found in the effect was already in the cause.”
For more read: Mussolini: A Biography by Dennis Mack Smith (Vintage Press, 1983)
