Walter Benjamin didn’t just predict the rise of fascism—he explained how it seduces. In an age of deepfakes, viral propaganda and algorithm-driven rage, his most explosive idea is more relevant than ever: Fascism doesn’t win through arguments. It wins through aesthetics.
Fascism thrives on spectacle, not substance. Benjamin’s line—“Fascism sees its salvation in giving the masses not their right, but a chance to express themselves”—explains everything from MAGA rallies to TikTok nationalism. People aren’t voting for policies; they’re joining a vibe. The red hats, the chants, the enemy-blaming—it’s all theatre. Fascism doesn’t fix poverty; it turns poverty into a cinematic experience of victimhood and revenge.
Today, Leni Riefenstahl’s films have been swapped for viral clips of “based” strongmen. Same playbook. The more shareable the rage, the stronger the movement.
Benjamin wasn’t fooled. He saw fascism as capitalism’s backup plan—a way to keep the masses from realising they’re being robbed. When people start demanding healthcare and fair wages, fascism offers them flags, enemies and the dopamine hit of belonging. Elites love fascism because it redirects anger downwards (at immigrants, “woke” activists, intellectuals) instead of upwards (at billionaires and corrupt politicians).
Benjamin also warned that fascism makes war look beautiful—not as a necessity, but as art. Think of the heroic imagery around soldiers, the fetishisation of violence, the way modern authoritarian regimes turn military parades into viral content. Now apply that to online culture: memes that glorify conflict, influencers who romanticise “civil war” and a media ecosystem that profits from outrage. Fascism doesn’t need to win elections—it just needs to make chaos feel exciting.
Benjamin wrote in the 1930s, when fascists used radio and film to hypnotise crowds. Today, social media does the same thing, but better. Virality replaces ideology. Why debate policy when you can just “own the libs” in a 10-second clip? Myth replaces history. Fascists don’t need facts—they need legends, like the “stolen election” or “Great Replacement.” Outrage replaces class consciousness. The angrier and more distracted people are, the less they organise for real change.
Benjamin’s lesson is clear: You can’t logic people out of fascism because fascism isn’t logical. It’s emotional, aesthetic and addictive. The only way to fight it is to sabotage the spectacle—mock its symbols, drain its drama. Expose the machinery—show people how they’re being played. And offer real belonging—fascism thrives on loneliness; solidarity cuts off its fuel supply.
If we don’t, we’ll keep losing the same way the left lost in the 1930s: by thinking fascism is a policy debate when it’s really a vibe war.
And vibes are winning.