Introduction Loewenstein begins with the Balkan

Loewenstein begins with the Balkan states, for which he does not have high hopes of a

continued relationship with democratic principles. He has particular reservations about Rumania,

which can be seen as more an “autocracy than as a constitutional state,” as while the 1923

Rumanian constitution describes the Rumanian government as a constitutional monarchy, in

reality the state is run by a government class composed of traditional aristocrats and wealthy

landowners, who make up almost all members of the parliament. A similar system can be found

in Yugoslavia and Hungary, and while early fascist efforts in Bulgaria (supported by German

money) have not been particularly successful up until 1934, the growing popularity of anti-

Semitic and racist rhetoric among Bulgarian leaders does not bode well for the nation’s

continued resistance to fascism.

Of note is the importance of anti-Semitism to the acceptability of fascism implied by

Loewenstein here – to him, fascism benefits from a popular acceptance of anti-Semitic beliefs, as

this acceptance can serve as a rallying cry for a dispirited population, with Jews functioning as

an easy scapegoat for fascist rhetoric. In Bulgaria, with a long tradition of “popular animosity

towards Jews,” especially among the rural population, anti-Semitism could serve as a wedge by

which fascism could conceivably force itself into the Bulgarian government, and could prove

more powerful than the nation’s legacy of constitutional monarchy.

Loewenstein next examines Greece. Following a period of turmoil, a democratic

constitution was established in 1927, and a period of peace lasted until 1935, when tensions

between the two political parties spilled into the streets, and the Venizelists attempted to

overthrow the Tsaldaris government. Faced with a “resolute government in command of the

ordinary military powers,” this attempt failed, and prompted constitutional reform that helped

further concentrate power in the hands of the government party. While at first glance this

successful resistance would be a promising sign for continued democracy in Greece, the

subsequent concentration of power, and the actions that prompted this concentration, have

followed “the beaten track of quasi-fascist methods,” which so often end in full blown fascism.

Further, Loewenstein views recent agitation by Greeks for a reestablishment of the traditional

monarchy as nothing more than an attempt to implement a “veiled form of autocratic rule.”

Thus, Greece is yet another example of a country that has poor prospects for resisting

fascism. Interestingly, the path followed by the Greek government in instituting constitutional

reforms to help resist internal disorder is similar in some ways to Loewenstein’s own idea of

militant democracy – a proactive attempt by a sitting democratic government to head off

emerging threats. Clearly such an attempt carries with it an implicit danger of enabling the ruling

party to entrench themselves within a state, and while Loewenstein never articulates this

concern, it is important to bear in mind as he further develops his theory for the defense of

democracy.

Loewenstein views Spain’s prospects in a similar light. Like Germany, during the 1920s

Spain “failed to build up a strong middle-class party holding the balance between right and left,”

leading to an ill-timed revolt by the leftist parties against the state and military. With little

prospect of succeeding, this revolt will serve as a pretext for the Spanish right to further entrench

themselves in power, using the “menace of dictatorship of the proletariat... for the organization

of a ruthless white terror preparing the way for the establishment of fascist or authoritarian rule.”

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In this prediction, Loewenstein sees a similarity to the destruction of the Weimar state, wherein

the tension (and open conflict) between the left and the right has provided enough

“hatred to bid for a ferocious application of the fascist suppression.”

Loewenstein finds Czechoslovakia to be an especially interesting case. Democracy has

functioned well under the benevolent leadership of President Masaryk, demonstrating what

Loewenstein terms the “vitality of the democratic idea” – a phrase that seems to hint at his true

feelings towards his subject matter. Further, Czechoslovakia is one of the few nations to actively

implement prohibitions on fascist activity, especially of Nazi sympathizers, thereby fulfilling

some of the precepts of Loewenstein’s prescribed defense of democracy. Yet, despite these

positive signs, the continued agitation of Germany for recognition of German nationals, and the

growing support these nationals have found within Czechoslovakia, does not bode well for the

future of the state.

Although never explicitly mentioned, Loewenstein here seems to be admitting that even

an active defense against fascism may not be sufficient to protect the democratic institutions of a

state. Such an acknowledgement seems to cast doubt on Loewenstein’s entire theory of militant

democracy – as well as further emphasizes the threat posed by fascism. Unsurprisingly,

Loewenstein does not elaborate on this subject, and as he continues to write on this topic

throughout the 1930s, he presents his theory of militant democracy as a thoroughly effective tool

for preserving a democratic state.

Loewenstein holds out high hopes for the Scandinavian states. Although Germany has

spent considerable time and money attempting to develop fascist parties in Sweden, Finland and

Denmark, none of these parties have taken hold among the citizenry. With a politically educated

population well versed in democracy, as well as surprisingly resilient economies that have to this

point shown little signs of depression, there is almost no prospect of any of these countries of

becoming fascist. Sweden, in particular, can be seen as one of the strongest democracies in

Europe due to its proactive defense against militarism and fascism. In 1933 and 1934 Sweden’s

parliament “used their [powers] to enact the necessary legislation against the fascist

propaganda,” outlawing uniforms, badges and other insignias of party allegiance. Even in

Finland, where an extremist right wing has found some popularity, the presence of a strong

middle class acts as a countervailing political force, ensuring that these extremists will never find

a popular audience for their rhetoric.

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Like the Scandinavian States, Belgium has few prospects of becoming fascist, unless

France, Belgium’s closest ally (and national home to many of its citizens) were to fall to fascism.

With a tradition of democracy, and a responsive, “elastic” parliamentary system, Belgium has

reacted well to the Great Depression. While discussing Belgium, Loewenstein makes his first

reference to the United States, commenting that, faced with economic instability, Belgium, like

the United States, delegated “vast [economic] powers to the government for a given period.”

Loewenstein here is alluding to the election of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and Roosevelt’s and

the American Congress’ quick approval of government programs to shore up the economy, and is

thus implying that America, like Belgium, has the necessary flexibility to resist a fascist threat.

Moving on to Switzerland, Loewenstein predicts that, despite a vocal fascist movement, “Swiss

fascism has already reached its climax.” Lacking a charismatic, first-rate leader, and confronted

by the “institutions of free self-government,” the Swiss fascist parties are beginning to dissolve.

Unfortunately, despite these positive developments, the Swiss tradition of resolving important

questions by public referendum may be the nation’s undoing, as fascists have proven to be

particularly effective at winning popular votes through coercive techniques. This prediction is

consistent with Loewenstein’s earlier, insightful observation of the unique way in which

democratic institutions, acting with good intentions, may actually enable fascism to succeed.

Loewenstein next turns to France, the “unknown x in the political equation of Europe”

that is “the critical point in the battle waging between dictatorial and democratic rule.” Since

1870 France has become increasingly democratic, and the French people, buoyed by an educated

middle class, “are still imbued with the traditional ideology of liberalism and deeply conscious

of the shortcomings of the communist and fascist paradises.” Unfortunately, despite this

appreciation for democratic ideals, France throughout the 1930s has been wracked by political

and parliamentary instability, and “scandals of far-reaching consequence.” Here, Loewenstein is

clearly referring to the Stavisky Affair, and the procession of discredited and unpopular

governments that followed.

In December 1933, an investigation into failed pawnshops in Bayonne, France, revealed

an extensive bond-selling scheme overseen by Serge Alexandre Stavisky, a Russian born Jew.

Faced with imminent arrest, Stavisky fled to Switzerland, where he was cornered by French

police, and committed suicide. Throughout January and February 1934 the far right French press

presented the suicide as a murder intended to cover up Stavisky’s ties to powerful French

politicians, forcing the resignation of premier Camille Chautemps, who was replaced by Edouard

Daladier. Dalaider immediately acted to remove the conservative prefect of the Paris police, Jean

Chiappe, prompting a series of demonstrations and riots that came to a head on February 6, 1934,

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when far right protestors engaged in open street fighting with elements of the French left and

police forces. In the aftermath of the riots, Daladier resigned, inaugurating several years of

constant political unrest and turmoil, and reinforcing the belief of a large portion of the French

populace that their government was unalterably corrupt.

These scandals, as well as a poorly written constitution that provides no protections for

democracy itself, has left France “in permanent danger of a revolution.” Beyond the

consequences of a populous, economically viable nation falling to fascism, France’s fate is in

particular tied to the fate of Europe at large. France, allied with England, acts as the continental

anchor of the Great Power alliance that defeated Germany in World War I and has attempted to

govern European affairs since. Unfortunately, with a low birth rate and a population decimated

by trench warfare, France is unable to bear this burden, and is, “in the position of an elderly man

who undertakes a mountaineering excursion far beyond his real strength, but keeps up the

appearance of enjoying it.” This need to maintain appearances only further exacerbates the

domestic unrest, and France is at a crisis point, after which the existing state of affairs can no

longer continue. The most obvious manifestation of this crisis is the growing presence of militant

forces of the right and left. These forces showcase a special dilemma within France: any sign of

upheaval may tip the nation over the brink into civil war, as both leftist and rightist groups are

waiting for a sign of provocation to again spill into the streets. Loewenstein fears that in

France, just as in Spain, the unstable situation may necessitate the application of “fascist

methods” by the French ministries such as “martial rule and the suppression of the civil rights to

cope with a disturbance of order and safety,” thereby paving the way for a fascist takeover.

In contrast to the instability of France, Great Britain stands as one of the lynchpins of democracy

in Europe, and can be considered immune from fascism. Although Great Britain has suffered

under the Great Depression, the fact that the populace has a “time-honored acceptance of

democratic ideals and institutions,” as well as a tradition of compromise and free debate,

guarantees that England will easily resist fascist pressure. Britain’s democratic tradition has

proven so strong that the House of Commons has thus far declined to take legislative (or military

democratic) steps to prohibit the display of private military uniforms, believing that such steps

are unnecessary in the face of the widespread support for the sitting government.

Loewenstein also briefly reviews the prospects for the rise of fascism in America. At this

point, Loewenstein believes that

[America is] so remote from the European experience in fascism and the ideology of fascism is

so alien to America thought, nourished by British traditions of self-government over a long

period, that it seems unreasonable to expect the appearance or growth of any brand of

European fascism. The effort of some irresponsible elements – adventurers or idealists – to

import the European brand of fascism and dictatorship seems hopeless.

Despite this hopeful assessment, Loewenstein adds a cautionary note, warning that “confidence

in the superiority of democratic institutions and belief in the soundness and reasonableness of the

masses do by no means suffice to safeguard the existing order.” If the American economy

continues to struggle, and fails to absorb the large masses of unemployed, America could, at

some later point, conceivably see the growth of a national fascist movement. Even the nations

with the strongest democratic traditions, and populations whose traditions run counter to fascist

ideology, still harbor the potential to cultivate a fascist movement. No country is entirely safe.

Overall, Loewenstein does not hold high hopes for the future of democracy in Europe.

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Beyond a few nations with a long tradition of democratic rule – most notably England and

America – virtually every nation is susceptible to an internal fascist takeover. While this

pessimistic analysis is to some extent the result of Loewenstein’s own personal experiences with

fascism, in many ways it is completely in line with Loewenstein’s own explanation for the

success of fascism, and his criteria for the susceptibility of a nation to fascist takeover. The

majority of nations with a poor prospect for continued democracy are in the grips of economic

turmoil and depression, have no tradition of democracy, and have populations that possess

longheld discriminatory beliefs, especially anti-Semitism.

Yet, despite his gloomy outlook, Loewenstein at this point still approaches the subject of

fascism through an attempt at academic objectivity. In 1935, his pessimism has not become full

blown, and he still harbors hope that some nations will be able to resist the fascist allure. Even if

this is not the case and fascism conquers the whole of Europe, as he points out early in

“Autocracy Versus Democracy I,” this change could simply be the next step in the evolution of

political systems throughout Europe, and is a natural consequence of the changing worldview of

the west throughout the twentieth century. In short, it is possible that the intellectual sun has set

on democracy, and, just as with earlier, discredited, political beliefs, it is time for a new system

to fill the vacuum. Further, he gives no hint that the United States is at any risk of falling to

fascism. Even though by 1935 the American economy had collapsed, setting into motion

spiraling unemployment, Loewenstein sees virtually no chance of fascism taking root in

America.

Loewenstein followed up “Autocracy Versus Democracy in Central Europe, I and II”

with two more articles about how democratic governments could resist fascist overthrow,

“Militant Democracy and Fundamental Rights, I and II,” published in 1937. Just as with

“Autocracy Versus Democracy,” “Militant Democracy I and II” must be examined within the

context of the continuing political developments in Europe. During the two years between the

articles, the position of democracy has declined throughout Europe. In 1935 fascist Italy invaded

and conquered Ethiopia, one of the few remaining independent African nations, and in 1936

Hitler successfully remilitarized the Rhineland, which had previously been demilitarized in

accordance with the Treaty of Versailles, as well as concluded a treaty with Italy, creating the

Axis alliance that would serve as the backbone of a new fascist and authoritarian alliance

structure throughout Europe. While the fascist nations prospered, and Germany continued its

rapid rearmament and economic transformation, the remaining democratic powers suffered

under the economic deprivations of the Great Depression, as well as an increasingly radicalized

and divisive political climate. In 1936 the Spanish Civil War broke out between the rightist

General Franco, supported by Germany and Italy, and the leftist Nationalist groups, loyal to the

Spanish republic, leading to a brutal multi-year conflict.

In “Militant Democracy I and II,” Loewenstein fully realizes his theory of militant

democracy, and is able, with examples of existing legislation, to articulate how a democratic

nation can, through legislative measures, protect itself from the scientific methods of fascism

described in “Autocracy Versus Democracy.” Loewenstein’s tone in these articles is markedly

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different than his earlier work. Compared to 1935, he has become more personally invested in

defending democracy, is much more anxious about the threat posed by fascism to the west, and

is one step further along in his transition from academic to advocate.

Loewenstein begins “Militant Democracy and Fundamental Rights, I” by briefly

summarizing what fascism is and the development of the historical growth of the facist political

movement, which has “developed into a universal movement which in its seemingly irresistible

surge is comparable to the rising of European liberalism.” While this section is similar to

“Autocracy Versus Democracy,” of note is his distinction between constitutionalism, which

“guarantees rationality and calculability of administration while preserving a definite sphere of

private law and fundamental rights,” and fascism, which has “substitution [of] the rule of law

[for] legalized opportunism.” This distinction is at odds with his earlier description of fascism as

a science, which reflects his growing involvement in the conflict between fascism and

democracy, and the fervor with which he believes fascism must be stopped.

Loewenstein’s feelings towards fascism are also shown in his description of a “fascist

International of the multi-colored shirts… transcending national borders and cutting deeply

across historical diversities of traditionally disjoined nationalisms.” By describing a linked

worldwide network of fascist states and suggesting that no differences truly exist between the

fascist regimes in Italy, Germany and Spain, Loewenstein is revealing his growing anxiety. He

believes that fascism is a united, encroaching worldwide conspiracy that threatens the few

remaining democratic nations. According to Loewenstein, further evidence of the existence of

this conspiracy can seen in in the leaders of the fascist nations, as they show a “similarity of…

personalities.”

After this brief overview, Loewenstein begins his analysis of how democratic nations fall

to fascism, and how this process can be prevented by legislative and legal means. Loewenstein

first describes this idea, termed militant democracy, by arguing that if democracy wishes to

continue as a relevant and existent political mode, and is “not convinced that it has not yet

fulfilled its destination, it must fight on its own plane a technique which serves only the purposes

of power. Democracy must become militant.” Loewenstein devotes the rest of “Militant

Democracy I,” and all of “Militant Democracy II,” to describing this technique, which is the

basis of much of his later relevance as a political theorist, and is clear evidence of his growing

advocacy for democracy, as well as his mounting personal stake in the defense of democratic

institutions.

For Loewenstein, much of fascism’s success has been “based on its perfect adjustment to

democracy,” thus allowing, as he first pointed out in “Autocracy Versus Democracy,” the use of

democratic institutions for their own destruction. Key to this destruction is the understanding by

fascists that “democracy could not, without self-abnegation, deny to any body of public opinion

the full use of the free institutions of speech, press, assembly, and parliamentary participation.”

Fascists use these institutions for their own gain, working to “systematically discredit the

democratic order and make it unworkable by paralyzing its functions until chaos reigns.” They

then seize on this deadlock as justification for their own alternative program, and are able,

through effective propaganda and emotional appeal, to garner widespread public support for a

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proposed solution to a problem originally of their own making. In short, “the mechanism of

democracy is the Trojan horse by which the enemy enters the city,” and fascists have slipped into

power while democratic fundamentalists have sat idly by, naively hoping that democratic

principles themselves would protect the existing order.

The only solution to this threat is for democracy to take steps to actively defend itself.

Fascism can only “be defeated… on its own plane and by its own devices, [and] mere

acquiescence and optimistic belief in ultimate victory of the spirit over force only encourages

fascism without stabilizing democracy.” Thus, democracies must take legal steps to limit the

institutions that fascism exploits, namely freedom of speech and press, two rights that

Loewenstein terms fundamental. By denying fascists these rights, democracies are able to

proactively remove their opponents’ best tools for raising popular support, thereby guaranteeing

that fascists will never have the popularity to attempt a takeover, through legal means or

otherwise. While proponents of democracy have long been hesitant to interfere with freedom of

speech, Loewenstein believes that, faced with the reality of fascism’s success throughout Europe,

“legalistic self-complacency and suicidal lethargy [is giving] way to a better grasp of realities.”

This idea is the key to Loewenstein’s theory of militant democracy, and is, in many ways, the

fundamental explanation for both the rest of his academic work, as well as his public efforts,

over the next decade. Unlike in “Autocracy Versus Democracy,” Loewenstein now has a

solution to the threat posed by fascism. By restricting the democratic institutions that fascism

uses to such great effect, fascists will be deprived of the necessary means to gain power, and thus

will never pose a threat in the first place. By preemptively heading off fascism before fascists

gather enough power to attempt a takeover, or force the issue during an emergency, democracy

can proactively guarantee its continued security.

An example of this style legislation can be seen in a law passed in March 1937 by the

Belgian parliament to “prevent resignation from parliamentary seats merely for the sake of

facilitating propaganda at the ensuing by-elections.” The passage of this law, which acts to limit

the freedom of elected officials in hopes of depriving fascists with a useful propaganda tool, is a

“clear indication of the growing unwilling[ness] of democracies to lend parliamentary

institutions to the fascist technique of exploiting them for selfish ends.”

Loewenstein’s language and tone here are of particular interest. Throughout his

description of militant democracy, and his defense of its principles, Loewenstein repeatedly

employs martial language and metaphors. To him, the current conflict between fascism and

democracy is similar to the conflict between democracy and the needs of a mobilized state seen

during World War I, and there “democracies withstood the ordeal of the World War much better

than did autocratic states – by adopting autocratic methods.” As in recent wartime, when “few

objected to the temporary suspension of constitutional principles for the sake of national

selfdefense,” defenders of democracy should understand the immediate need to abandon some of

their principles in the short term. Europe is under “a virtual state of siege,” and “during war…

legality takes a vacation.”

The effect of Loewenstein’s language here is twofold. First, it reveals the extent to which

he has become personally involved in this war – the conflict between autocracy and democracy

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is not, as in 1935, a subject viewed with academic detachment. Now, instead, it is a cause to

agitate for, and defeating fascism is a battle cry to which Loewenstein himself is rallying. It

would not be an exaggeration to go so far as to describe his language here as verging on the

hysteric. By describing Europe in these terms, Loewenstein is also revealing his own

increasingly pessimistic worldview. To him, Europe is on the brink, and the most extreme

measures (“every possible effort”) must be undertaken to prevent it from tumbling over the edge

and into the chaos of fascism. At this point, there is no question of how Loewenstein views his

subject matter: he wants democracy to continue, and, in the defense of democracy, the ends

justify the means.

Second, by using military language to describe the European political situation, and

exaggerating the threat to the European democracies – only two years earlier England was

described as immune to fascism – Loewenstein is using fascism’s own appeal to drum up support

for militant democracy. As he has discussed repeatedly, fascism is grounded in emotion, and

fascist parties make great use of the emergency situation, frequently using expediency as a

justification for a quick transition to a fascist government. Loewenstein is essentially (and

ironically) performing the same act. To him, the threat to democracy is so dire, and so apparent,

that actions must immediately be taken – democracy “must live up to the demands of the hour.”

Such an appeal is the essence of emotionalism. Just as the fascists use the threat of economic

depression to mobilize a population, Loewenstein is attempting to use fascism to mobilize a

government. To him, democratic governments must immediately follow the course laid out by

him or risk destruction. There is something fundamentally different from simply proscribing the

means by which a democratic government can protect itself from fascism, and casting the

conflict between democracy and fascism as an apocalyptic and historic clash of worldviews. The

fact that Loewenstein is doing the latter is significant, and has up until this point been glossed

over by scholars working with his theories. Further, the stark differences between “Militant

Democracy I” and “Autocracy Versus Democracy” are obvious, and show his increasingly

pessimistic worldview, his growing personal involvement in the defense of democracy, his

mounting anxiety, and his ongoing transition from academic to advocate.

Loewenstein continues his discussion of militant democracy in his next article, “Militant

Democracy and Fundamental Rights II.” Here he surveys specific European legislation that

demonstrates the effectiveness of his earlier general arguments on what democracies must do to

defend themselves against fascism. The countries covered by Loewenstein in this article include

France, Belgium, the Netherlands, England, the Irish Free State, Sweden, Norway, Denmark,

Finland, Switzerland and Czechoslovakia – a list that for all intents and purposes contains all of

the remaining democratic nations left in Europe.

Loewenstein categorizes anti-fascist legislation into fourteen different types, all of which,

despite local or national differences, display “considerable uniformity... corresponding to the

uniformity of the fascist technique undermining the democratic technique.” The most successful

of these legislations are those enacted quickly, as “unduly delayed legislation [have] found it

increasingly difficult to quell movements that had already cast their spell and taken root in the

public attention.”

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The first type of legislation is those laws meant to deal with “open rebellion, insurrection,

armed uprising,” and other types of open conflict between fascists and the democratic

government. While in most cases open rebellion can be easily be dealt with by a nation’s existing

police and military forces, Switzerland (1934, 1936), Czechoslovakia (1923) and Belgium

(1934) have “strengthen[ed] their political codes or… [introduced] special legislation against

high treason” to head off the threat from a fascist uprising. The second type of legislation is

those laws that attempt to limit fascism by “proscribing subversive movements altogether.”

While this is the most direct way of stopping fascist groups, in particular specifically outlawing

their existence, few legislatures have pursued this route. In general, those nations which have

outlawed extremist groups, do so indiscriminately, and avoid a “[s]pecific legal definition of

what constitutes a subversive party.”

The third and fourth types of laws are those that restrict private paramilitary groups and

the wearing of military uniform and badges. Such laws have been passed by most democratic

nations, and work to “strike at the roots of the fascist technique of propaganda, namely,

selfadvertisement and intimidation of others.” These laws have not proved particularly

controversial, other than in Germany, which repealed a federal ordinance prohibiting private

armies in 1932 after only two months. Similar to the third and fourth types, the fifth type of law

is a prohibition of the private manufacture, use and possession of firearms or other weapons. As

part of these prohibitions, according to Loewenstein a “vigilant police force should be in position

to prevent at least any large-scale accumulation of arms in private hands.” Although never stated,

Loewenstein clearly believes that the threat implicit in this law is not particularly potent,

considering the poor track record of fascism in overthrowing a democratic government through

outright revolution.

The sixth type of laws are those that “deal with abuse of parliamentary institutions by

political extremism.” While not popular, these laws act to deprive a fascist group of its legally

represented spokesperson, thereby taking “the edge... off subversive propaganda.” Similar to the

sixth type, although less severe, the seventh type of law is one that aims at “curbing excesses of

political strife.” Passed in Canada, the Netherlands and Czechoslovakia, these laws seek to

prevent “political acrimony when it was directed against persons or classes of persons or

institutions usually singled out for attack by fascism” by “forbidding incitement and agitation.”

The eighth type of law seeks to prevent fascists from creating disturbances through

“organized hooliganism,” by curbing their right to assembly. These laws, as well the ninth type

and tenth type – laws that limit fascist speech – are examples of laws that curb a fundamental

right. These laws are the embodiment of Loewenstein’s idea of militant democracy, and the

reluctance of democratic nations from adopting them (they are the “thorniest problem of

democratic states”) reveals the difficulty of convincing democratic nations to utilize autocratic

techniques as part of their own defense. As Loewenstein warns, “democracies that have gone

fascist have gravely sinned by their leniency [of speech], or by too legalistic concepts of freedom

of public opinion.”

Part of any war is the maintenance of a standing army, and the eleventh type of law

attempts to “protect [a nation’s] armed forces against infiltration by subversive propaganda.”

History has proven that “fascism is, on the whole, not unfavorably received by officers of the

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armed forces,” and some countries, including Belgium (1934) and Great Britain (1934), have

enacted laws above and beyond existing military regulations that are “designed to curb

incitement to disaffection among the armed forces.” Unfortunately, these laws have done little to

target fascism directly, and have been mainly (and misguidedly) aimed at communism, which

Loewenstein clearly does not consider a threat to democracies in the way that fascism is. Similar

measures have been undertaken to protect civil offices and public officials in the same way, and

these measures constitute the twelfth type of law.

The thirteenth type of law is perhaps the most controversial and proactive measure a

democratic state can undertake, and involves the creation of a police force devoted solely to the

“discovery, repression, supervision, and control of anti-democratic and anti-constitutional

activities and movements.” While Loewenstein believes a force along these lines should be

“established in any democratic state at war against fascism” – therefore all democratic states –

by 1937 only Switzerland and the Scandinavian states have pursued this strategy, and only along

limited lines. Loewenstein believes it is imperative for democratic nations to follow “the

example of the dictatorial and authoritarian states,” including “making it an offense [for all

citizens] not to report to the competent authorities information concerning unlawful and

subversive activities.”

The final type of laws are those that attempt to “parry [the] subversive activities directed

against the state from the outside,” in particular fascist and anti-democratic propaganda. While

nothing can be done to prohibit foreign radio broadcasts, Loewenstein believes that democratic

states should work to prohibit “the political activities of foreigners or alien emissaries on

national