That which the Fascists hate above all else, is intelligence.

"That which the Fascists hate above all else, is intelligence." — Miguel de Unamuno

In the twilight of civilizations, when empires falter and the minds of men grow weary, there always arises a dark tide that seeks to drown the light of reason. The Spanish philosopher Miguel de Unamuno, standing amidst the tumult of the early twentieth century, gave voice to a truth as old as tyranny itself: the enemies of freedom always despise intelligence. For the fascist, intelligence is a mirror held up to false power — a mirror that reflects weakness, hypocrisy, and fear. Intelligence is rebellion clothed in thought, the whisper that questions when all others shout their obedience. And so, the tyrant fears it, for intelligence cannot be chained, nor can wisdom be silenced by decree.

In the heart of every fascist creed lies the worship of blind obedience, the demand that men cease to think and merely follow. To question is to betray; to reason is to rebel. Thus, intelligence becomes the gravest threat — for the mind that sees truth cannot kneel before falsehood. Fascism thrives not on logic, but on emotion twisted into rage, on loyalty warped into cruelty. It feeds on the masses’ hunger for certainty, their yearning for strength, and their fear of freedom. Intelligence, by contrast, sows doubt — and doubt is the first step toward awakening. Therefore, the fascist fears the philosopher more than the soldier, the poet more than the general, and the teacher more than the tyrant’s own guard.

Consider the tale of Socrates, who long before Unamuno, met the wrath of a state that feared intelligence. The rulers of Athens accused him of corrupting the youth, for he dared to teach them how to question. Yet what did Socrates do but awaken their minds? His death was a warning: that truth-seekers are dangerous to the comfort of lies. Centuries later, the fascists of Europe would prove this anew. The Nazis burned books and silenced scholars, not because those pages held weapons, but because they held ideas. They feared the invisible sword of knowledge, sharper than any steel. Each burning page was a confession — a cry of fear from a power built on ignorance.

Unamuno himself lived this truth. As fascism rose in Spain, he stood in defiance, speaking words that cut like lightning through the storm of fanaticism. “You will win,” he told the fascists, “but you will not convince.” For Unamuno knew that victory won through violence is hollow, while truth, even when silenced, endures. He paid dearly for his courage, exiled and condemned by those who could not bear the weight of his intellect. Yet his words live on, outlasting the roar of every crowd that once sought to drown them. Such is the eternal triumph of intelligence — it whispers still when the shouts have died.

The meaning of Unamuno’s words is not confined to the past. Even now, in ages of screens and noise, fascism creeps not always with boots and banners, but with lies disguised as truth, with ignorance masquerading as certainty. It dwells wherever thinking is discouraged, wherever minds are told what to believe rather than taught how to think. The modern fascist may smile, may claim to defend peace, but beneath that calm mask lies the same ancient fear: fear of the independent mind, fear of intelligence that asks why.

Therefore, let us remember the sacred duty of intelligence — not to dominate, but to enlighten. To think is to resist; to learn is to live freely. Every act of honest inquiry, every conversation that seeks understanding rather than victory, is a blow against the darkness. The mind is the last fortress of liberty, and education its eternal guard. Guard it well, for without it, men become tools, and nations fall to those who command without reason.

The lesson, then, is clear: never surrender your mind. Read deeply, question boldly, and speak truth even when silence seems safer. Encourage wisdom in others; nurture curiosity in the young. Build temples not of stone, but of thought — classrooms, libraries, and open hearts. For every time intelligence is kindled in a human soul, fascism withers a little more, like a shadow fleeing the dawn. Let that dawn rise within you, and be, as Unamuno was, a light against the darkness that fears to think.