No government fights fascism to destroy it. When the bourgeoisie

In the burning age of struggle and upheaval, when the world trembled between the chains of tyranny and the dawn of freedom, the revolutionary Buenaventura Durruti spoke these immortal words: “No government fights fascism to destroy it. When the bourgeoisie sees that power is slipping out of its hands, it brings up fascism to hold onto their privileges.” His voice, forged in the fires of Spain’s civil war, was not the voice of one man but of a people rising from centuries of oppression. He spoke not to flatter kings nor to please the rulers, but to unveil the cruel truth that the mighty conceal from the meek — that fascism is not born from madness or chaos alone, but from the cold and calculated fear of the privileged.

For Durruti understood what many dared not see: that when the thrones of the powerful tremble, when the multitudes begin to awaken and demand justice, the ruling class — the bourgeoisie — cloaks its trembling hands in iron and calls it order. They summon the monster of fascism as one might summon a dark god to protect their gold. They name it “patriotism,” they name it “national security,” they name it “law and order.” But beneath those names lies a single motive — to preserve privilege and to crush the cry of equality.

So it was in Spain, in that tragic and glorious time of 1936, when workers and peasants, united under the red and black banners of freedom, began to take their destiny into their own hands. They built communities without masters, where bread was shared, where no man bowed before another. But the old powers — landowners, generals, and priests — saw in this uprising the shadow of their own ruin. And so, like Durruti foretold, they brought up fascism. They raised armies of death, led by Franco, armed by foreign empires, and drenched the soil of Spain with the blood of its children. The people who built a world without masters were slain by those who feared losing mastery.

This pattern, my children of the future, is not bound by the dust of Spain. It has repeated across lands and centuries. When the common people rise in Russia, the landlords call upon armies of White Terror. When the workers of Chile elect hope, the merchants and generals unleash dictatorship. When the voice of freedom stirs in any nation, the lords of wealth — those who dine upon the hunger of others — whisper to the soldiers, “Save us.” And so fascism, ever the faithful hound of the rich, is unleashed to tear apart the dream of liberation.

Yet do not mistake Durruti’s words for despair. His truth is not a lamentation, but a revelation. For to see clearly is the first act of courage. To know that no government truly destroys fascism, because fascism serves as its shield when its own rule is threatened, is to understand that the battle for justice cannot be left to kings, presidents, or ministers. The fight for freedom must be carried in the hearts and hands of the people themselves — those who neither exploit nor command.

Remember this lesson, as one remembers the sacred flame of the ancients: power does not surrender by pleading. The privileged will not yield their dominion out of kindness. They must be rendered powerless by the unity, the discipline, and the solidarity of those who labor, who dream, who dare. When the mighty summon fascism, let the people summon conscience. When the rulers speak of law, let the people speak of justice. When they wield fear, let us wield truth.

So let this teaching descend to you as both a warning and a call. When you see hatred rise again in the banners of nationalism, when you hear the cries of division sown by those who profit from chaos, remember Durruti. Remember that fascism is not an accident, but a weapon raised in defense of privilege. Stand not as bystanders to its return, but as builders of a world that has no need of masters or slaves.

And in your daily life — in your labor, your words, your choices — practice resistance not through violence alone, but through justice, through empathy, through the creation of communities where no one must kneel. For the fall of fascism begins not in the halls of power, but in the hearts of those who refuse to hate. As Durruti himself declared before his death, “We carry a new world in our hearts.” Let that world be your guide — a world where no one’s privilege is built upon another’s suffering, and where freedom is not a dream, but the natural breath of humankind.