History That Doesn't Suck - 183: The Origin of Fascism: “Il Duce” Benito Mussolini & the Rise of Fascist Italy

Episode Date: July 14, 2025

“Italy, Gentlemen, wants peace, wants quiet, wants work, wants calm; we will give it with love, if that be possible, or with strength, if that be necessary.” This is the story of Italy’s Benito Mussolini’s creation of fascism and rise to power in interwar Italy. Benito starts life the way his father intended—as a socialist—and the often moving, young schoolteacher quickly emerges as a leading voice in the movement as he’s entrusted to serve as the editor of one of the party’s most important newspapers. But the Great War changes that. Benito supports it, the party doesn't, and by the conflict’s end, the returned soldier has a new idea—one that takes him across the political spectrum, all the way from the Marxist left to the nationalist far-right—a violent, war-glorifying, anti-democratic, one-party, dictatorial version of nationalism. He calls it “fascism.”  Benito speaks of order. Economic prosperity. National pride. Some see his black-clad fighting squads, known as “Blackshirts,” as their saviors from the far-left’s communism, so feared in the wake of the recent Bolshevik Revolution in Russia. Indeed, many Italians welcome his march on Rome and his growing powers as Prime Minister, and celebrate his foreign policy achievements, including a reconciliation between Italy and the Vatican.  But as Benito kills Italy’s constitutional monarchy in all but name as he turns into a dictator, conquers Ethiopia, ignores the League of Nations, and bonds with Germany’s rising dictator Adolf Hitler, former allies are growing concerned. Some fear his anti-democratic path will also embolden Germany. As W.E.B. Du Bois questions: “If Italy takes her pound of flesh by force, does anyone suppose that Germany will not make a similar attempt?” Only time will tell. Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. HTDS is part of Audacy media network. Interested in advertising on the History That Doesn't Suck? Contact Audacyinc.com To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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il Duce Benito Mussolini, is gathering his thoughts, paper and pen, preparing to write. But exactly where is hard to say? Is he in his spacious office at the Renaissance built Palazzo Venezia, located in the heart of Rome? Or is he at his imposing neoclassical abode, situated at what is currently the outskirts of the Eternal city, his Villa Tologna.

Perhaps he's at his castle up north, Brocca della Camminate. We'll never know exactly where he's riding, but we do know what. It's an entry for the Italian Encyclopedia. Well, part of an entry, at least. The Encyclopedia's editor-in-chief, his former minister of public education, Giovanni Gentile, is writing the first part, but Benito is finishing this article entitled La Dottrina del Fascismo, or in English, The Doctrine of Fascism. And of course he is. Who better to write this entry than the founder of fascism himself, Ilduche. And it looks like he's seated and settled.

Let's read over his shoulder as he writes and see how he defines his ideology. Beginning with the narrative rising from that dark year right after the Great War, 1919, Benito explains that, at that point, I had in mind no specific doctrinal program. Interesting, but if he didn't know what fascism was yet, he did seem to know what it wasn't. And it was not his former ideology that he now sees as a failure, socialism. As he writes, when the war ended in 1919, socialism as a doctrine was already dead. It continued to exist only as a grudge, especially in Italy, where its only chance lay in inciting to reprisals against the men who had willed the war and who were to be made to pay for it.

He carries on. Il Duce explains that fascism has matured since his rise to power in 1922, when he and his squads, or squadristi, dressed in black shirts, marched on Rome. Indeed, he writes that, fascism is now clearly defined not only as a regime, but as a doctrine. Yet he continues to define fascism less as what it is and more as what it is not. And it most certainly is not about world peace. Fascism does not, generally speaking, believe in the possibility or utility of perpetual peace. It therefore discards pacifism as a cloak for cowardly supine renunciation

and contradistinction to self-sacrifice. War alone keys up all human energies to their maximum tension and sets the seal of nobility on those people who have the courage to face it. All of the tests are substitutes which never place a man face to face with himself before the alternative of life or death. Therefore, all doctrines which postulate peace at all costs are incompatible with fascism. Equally foreign to the spirit of fascism, even if accepted as useful in meeting special political situations, are all internationalistic or league superstructures which, as history shows, crumble to the ground whenever the heart of nations is deeply stirred by sentimental, idealistic, or practical considerations.

Okay, so Benito sees peace as weakness and the violence of war as the ultimate test. Something to aspire to even. Man, he and League of Nations creating former US President Woodrow Wilson would not have gotten along. Anyhow, continuing with his definition largely framed as what fascism isn't and what he hates, his pen pours out a loathing for democracy. Democratic regimes may be described as those under which the people are, from time to time, deluded into the belief that they exercise sovereignty. While all the time, real sovereignty resides in and is exercised by other, and sometimes irresponsible and secret forces.

Democracy is a kingless regime, infested by many kings, who are sometimes more exclusive, tyrannical, and destructive than one, even if he be a tyrant." So, in Benito's mind, his one-party state is merely being honest about who holds the power, and he freely admits that it isn't the people. It's the state which doesn't serve the people so much as the people serve it. Il Duce continues, The fascist negation of socialism, democracy, liberalism should not, however, be interpreted as implying a desire to drive the world backwards.

History does not travel backwards. A party governing a nation totalitarianly is a new departure in history. The keystone of the fascist doctrine is its conception of the state, of its essence, its functions and its aims. For fascism, the state is absolute, individuals and groups relative. Benito goes on about the virtues of the one party fascist state. He calls it revolutionary. He claims it anticipates the solution of certain universal problems.

He believes it supersedes the irresponsibility of assemblies found in democracy, has the answers to labor versus capital disputes, and provides order, discipline, obedience to the moral dictates of patriotism. And perhaps unsurprisingly for an ideology that derides peace and glories in war, the fascist state should expand. Fascism sees in it the imperialistic spirit, i.e. in the tendency of nations to expand, a manifestation of their vitality.

Yes, this warring expansionist, anti-democracy, totalitarian state, that is what Benito sees as the answer to the world's ills, as the authoritarian cure that, in his mind, neither of the competing ideas of Marxism nor classical liberalism have managed to deliver. Thus, he concludes his encyclopedia entry, Never before have the peoples thirsted for authority, direction, order, as they do now. If each age has its doctrine, then innumerable symptoms indicate that the doctrine of our age is the fascist. That it is vital is shown by the fact that it has aroused a faith. That this faith has conquered souls is shown by the fact that fascism can point to its fallen heroes and its martyrs.

Fascism has now acquired throughout the world that universality which belongs to all doctrines, which by achieving self-expression, represent a moment in the history of human thought. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. If there's one thing I've learned from teaching World War II history at the university level over the past decade is that fascism is a very taken-for-granted term. It's a word my students are sure they understand right until I press them to define it. Fair enough. Scholars argue about its definition to this day, and that's in no small part because

of what we just saw in this definition by fascism's founder himself. Fascism is less about what it is and more about what it hates. Basically, defining fascism is as frustrating as making dinner plans with your friend who claims to be down for whatever, then says no to your every suggestion and shows up late. Yeah, it's the worst. Those challenges notwithstanding, here's my short working definition. Fascism is extreme nationalism that, 1. Glories in blood and war, particularly waged to build empire with expanded borders.

2. Is governed by a one-party authoritarian state under the leadership of a dictator with a cult-like following. 3. Values the tribe over the individual and the state over civil rights. Four, economically does whatever benefits the state. Now, with that definition, we can grasp why fascists hate liberals, by which of course we mean classical liberals in the old school European sense.

Classical liberals believe in individual liberty, which requires creating a nation with meaningful limits on its power. Meanwhile, Marxists, socialists, and more radical communists alike, have an economic plan that serves a specific class rather than the nation's people or chosen tribe, and even think internationally, not nationalistically. Well, fascists don't mind interrupting the free market. They do or don't, depending on what is best for the nation in that moment. But Marxism's class and international thinking is a bunch of non-nationalistic fingernails on the chalkboard for fascists. Hence we'll see that fascists are more willing to woo liberals in their bid to gain power, painting themselves

as a better alternative to revolutionary Bolshevism while Marxists are enemy number one from the start. Finally, I'll note that because fascism so ardently despises communism, a far-left ideology, and can play nice with free markets and religion as it builds a state that will eventually stab either in the back if they fail to fall in line. Fascism is usually defined as a far-right ideology. Thus, to again say something I've long told my students, fascism and communism both lead to horrific authoritarian states that devalue the individual.

They just take vastly different paths to get there. And with that, welcome to this first of several pre-World War II episodes that are less American focused than our usual, but will have serious relevance to our overarching tale of the United States. Today is the story of Benito Mussolini, his fascist ideology, and his rise as a fascist dictator in interwar period Italy. According to Samuel Miller Breckenridge Long, American ambassador to Italy in 1935, our protagonist, antagonist Benito or il Duce can be described as, quote, suave, courteous, quiet, simple, direct, from time to time forceful, very expressive.

Occasionally, he gave evidences of temper, but never lost perfect self-control." Yes, and we'll see that suavness on full display as he grows from Pugnash's schoolboy to socialist newspaper editor, from soldier to fascism's founder, and finally from prime minister to untouchable il ducce, just starting to warm to Germany's Adolf Hitler. And that's where we'll leave off. It's a big task, and we begin our descent into this dark period with a brief foray into the late 19th century. Rewind.

At 2pm on Sunday, July 29th, 1883, in Varano di Costa, Predapio, the Kingdom of Italy, Alessandro and Rosa Mussolini welcome a baby boy into the world. In line with Alessandro's socialist leanings, the couple name him Benito, after the leftist Mexican revolutionary Benito Juarez. The family is humble and hardworking. Alessandro is a blacksmith. Rosa teaches at the local school, and as their family grows in coming years, Benito and his two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, all study there.

At age nine, Benito leaves for a not too distant boarding school run by priests near Bologna in the small town of Feinza. Things are much stricter here than what he experienced being raised in a home that despises the bourgeoisie and questions authority. The young Italian is soon getting into trouble, which he interprets as persecution because of his father's socialism. Now, is this evidence of the temper and persecution mania he will later exhibit in life?

Or is this simply him doing what he thinks a good socialist like his father would do? Either way, Benito is expelled after a dust-up in which he pulls a knife and stabs an older boy in the hand. The audacious youth soon makes another move within Northern Italy to Collegio Josue Carducci in Forli in Popoli. Altercations with blades continue here.

On January 14, 1898, 14-year-old Benito thrusts a penknife into the rear end of a boy who smudged his paper and punched his head. Perhaps in reference to these varying confrontations, Benito will later write in his autobiography, I was, I believe, unruly, and I was sometimes indiscreet. Youth has its passing restlessness and follies. Well, that's his take, but here's another. Benito is a schoolyard bully. Still at the Collegio as he turns 18 years old, Benito's notorious womanizing has begun. It's reported that he's a frequent visitor at local brothels and is known to be a perpetrator of a few extramarital affairs. In other words, the future founder of fascism is a f**kboy.

After graduating with a teacher's diploma in July 1901, Benito teaches only briefly in the town of Guattieri before moving to Switzerland in July 1902. He takes a variety of jobs, masonry, carpentry, picking fruit, and gets increasingly political. To quote the now Swiss resident, Between one lesson and another, I took part in political gatherings. I made speeches. Some intemperance in my words made me undesirable to the Swiss authorities. After being interrogated for 12 days by the police regarding socialist activity, they expelled me from two cantons. For the next year or so, he's in and out of European countries, including Switzerland,

as he makes more of a name for himself in the socialist world. But in 1904, Benito returns to Italy. He's home to participate in compulsory armed service, or so he says. Various biographers categorize his stint in Switzerland as an attempt to avoid said compulsory service. Whatever the truth of it, Benito is soon a newly minted member of the 10th Bersaglieri Regiment at Verona and enjoys the life of a soldier, especially what he describes as the the sense of willing subordination. But more varied experiences lie ahead.

Two years later, in 1906, Benito leaves the army and goes back to teaching briefly before he embarks on a career as a journalist. In 1908, he becomes reacquainted with the beautiful, blonde-haired, former student of his mother's, Raquel Eguidi. This is Benito's future wife, and ironically, she has a similar playground track record to him. When boys threw stones at her during primary school, she tossed them right back, one time even cutting the cheek of her aggressor. Rachele would blow up over each one of her future husbands many, many affairs, allegedly as many as 400. But despite Benito swiping right on pretty much half of the women in Italy, their marriage seems to work for them. Nonetheless, marriage isn't on the table yet,

because Benito is opposed on principle to the institution, so the couple simply begins living together in 1910 when Raquelis is of marrying age, which is 17 years old. Less than 9 months later, on September 1st, 1910, she gives birth to their first child, a daughter named Edda. But as the family grows, it also shrinks. Less than three months later, on November 17th, Benito's father, Alessandro Mussolini, passes away.

Whether Benito shares his dearly departed father's opposition to war at this point is questionable, but either way, he sees an opportunity to make political hay by participating in socialist-run riots against Italy's invasion of Libya the following year. This results in a five-month stay in jail, during which Benito does what all famously incarcerated leaders do. He writes a manifesto. His is called My Life from 29 July 1883 to 22 November 1911. To be fair, it's more an autobiography than

a manifesto, but the target audience is certainly his fellow socialists. His audience apparently loves him because, in 1912, 28-year-old Benito is hired to take over for the moderate-leaning Jewish lawyer, Claudio Trevis, as the new director of the Milan-published daily socialist newspaper, the Avanti. Benio Trevis as the new director of the Milan published daily socialist newspaper, the Avanti. Benito works to build the newspaper's circulation, more than doubling it within a year. Now a balding and mustachioed newspaper man, the future fascist is notably impacted by June 1914's Red Week.

Starting on June 7th, this labor strike begins peacefully but turns violent. Not sold on the violence, socialist leaders pull their support. Benito toes the party line, praising the strike's success while declaring its end. But his true reaction is in his autobiography. The Red Week was not revolution as much as it was chaos, no leaders, no means to go on. The middle class and the bourgeoisie gave us another picture of their insipid spirit. Hmm, I'm sensing a little bit of a rift between the newspaper editor and his socialist peers. Sounds like he wants more order. Yet

Red Week isn't close to the month's most important event. On June 28th, 1914, the heir to the Austro-Hungarian Empire's throne, Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie are murdered. As we know from episode 128, a complicated web of factors allows this assassination to trigger a series of events that results in the Great War. It doesn't take long for this catastrophic, world-consuming war to drive the wedge deeper between Benito and the Socialist Party. By October, Benito's pro-war sentiments prompt socialist leaders to end his days as editor of the Avanti, and in November, this disgruntled socialist publishes the first issue of Il Popolo d'Italia, a newspaper that, for now, focuses on turning public opinion in favor of joining France and England in the war.

This is all too much for socialist leadership in Milan. They expel the Popolo editor from the party on November 24th. Italy enters the war alongside the allied powers of Britain, France, and Russia in May 1915, and on September 1st Benito is back in uniform. His captain, who knows and likes his written work, asks the Socialist Party reject to edit the regiment's newspaper. However, Benito refuses. He wants to fight on the front lines. And yet, he doesn't want to abandon his subscribers. He sends articles back to his beloved newspaper under a non-diplome.

And with all being fair in love and war, it should come as no surprise that the messiness of Benito's love life carries on even in the midst of the chaos of war. On November 11, 1915, one of his former lovers, Ida Dalser, writes to the Playboy soldier that she's given birth to their son, Benito Albino. While he'll soon meet his son and book Ida at a Milan hotel as his wife, Ida will remain sidelined. Instead, it seems Benito's response to her pregnancy is to run to his first baby mama. Only a month after Ida writes, Benito officially marries Raquel Eguidi on December 16th.

Meanwhile, the war rages on, and it's about a year after his marriage that the conflict provides Benito with just the experience needed to be the vocal, supposed hero he longs to be. It's about 1pm, February 22nd, 1917. Now at the poorly translated English rank of Caparale Maggiore, Benito Mussolini is on northeastern Italy's Izonso front in sector 144. He's participating in a bombardment

of central power forces across no man's land. But as they launch shell after shell, Benito notices that their overheating mortar has become compromised. Signor Tenente, we must stop. The metal is cracked. There will be an accident. The lieutenant answers.

Just once more, caparali maggiore. That once more was one too many. The compromised mortar's explosion sends shrapnel flying through their trench. A few soldiers die instantly. Some others are fatally wounded. As for Benito, he's riddled with shrapnel and has a broken left femur.

The caparale maggiore pulls through. He's soon undergoing surgeries and convalescing in a hospital in Ronchi. Remembering the incident later, he writes, Yes, no painkillers. By choice. It's all part of building the hero myth he's going for and now no one can question his bravery or patriotism as he returns to Il Popolo d'Italia with increasingly brash words that June. The war must go on, he asserts, and later that year, as Vladimir Lenin's Bolsheviks carry out a revolution that takes Russia from Tsardom to communism, Benito publishes the swirling anti-Semitic claim that the Jews are behind the Bolsheviks.

It's a curious path for a former socialist leader. Yet, in March 1918, Benito is ready to complete his public rejection of his former ideology, declaring in his newspaper that International Socialism is a German weapon. Indeed, he is not a fan of socialism's international bend at this point. As the Great War ends that November, and peace talks begin in Paris early the following year, Benito is ready to proclaim a new and very not international ideology as the answer to the post-war Kingdom of Italy's problems,

to its high unemployment, its rampant inflation that's letting down the poor, and its heavy taxes and legalized land seizures that are frustrating the wealthy. On March 23rd, 1919, Benito Mussolini meets with a group of a little over 100 on the Piazza San Sepolcro in Milan. The crowd divides into three very specific subgroups. One, war veterans, but specifically those who like violence.

Two, trade unionists known as syndicalists, and crucially, those who are pro-war. And three, intellectuals looking to break with the past, known as futurists. It's here, in this moment, that Benito announces the creation of the Fasi Italiani di Combatimento, that is, the Italian Fassis, or groups of combat. He declares war on socialism because it has opposed nationalism,

then explains that they'll have a three-fold focus. One, honoring and revering veterans and the fallen. Two, opposing imperialism of any other countries damaging to Italy. And three, fighting for candidates in upcoming elections that are milk and water Italians. In other words, nationalists, regardless of their party. Okay, pretty vague. But if fascism has a date and place of birth, this obscure, largely ignored meeting in Milan is it.

The November 1919 elections see zero success for this fascist-italiani di combattimento. In fact, the left does well, despite a recent and official split between socialists and more radical communists. But all is not calm. Violence between the left and Benito's war hardened fascist squads,

or black shirts, as they are soon known, follow. And the founder of fascism defends his men's violence in Il Popolo, calling their violence chivalrous because they act in the name of the nation. He contrasts this to the socialists whose violence he sees as cowardly and lacking the noble nationalist cause to which his black shirts lay claim. Such propaganda works for landowners and wealthy industrialists who see the fascists as their protectors against socialist collectivism. It also attracts the most violent of unemployed vets.

In 1921, a general election for the Italian parliament proves that this emotionally driven, violent nationalist message is catching on. Benito's fascists go from zero seats in the lower house, that is, the chamber, to 38, among whom is Benito Mussolini himself. Seizing on this inertia, Benito also transforms the movement into an official political party, the Partito Nazionale Fascista, or the National Fascist Party, abbreviated as the PNF. As a legislator, Benito is in constant conflict with other political leaders, and still cranking out articles in his Popolo newspaper about his new ideology named for the axe-headed bundle of sticks that symbolized power in ancient Rome, called, of course, the Fassis.

His deputies are getting pretty good at intimidation tactics, too, and by December 1921, the PNF has 834 branches and 249,036 members. Encouraged, the ambitious fascist leader thinks bigger. He's ready to entrench fascism in the Italian government. Between July and August 1922, black shirts carry out the organized destruction of socialist and communist party offices, bust strikes, and in the alleged name of rooting out corruption due to their leftist city councils, occupy the cities of Ferra, Bologna, Pravena, and Milan. The Benito-run fascist party is truly taking over. Local and international eyes are on them as Benito questions going one step further, should

they risk marching on Rome? Okay, before we get to this crucial moment of Benito's rise, let's take in the big picture. To start, let's note that easy-going King Victor Emmanuel III is a pretty conflict-avoiding guy. Meanwhile, his Prime Minister with the world's most incredible walrus mustache, Luigi Facta of Italy's Liberal Party, has let the fascist flame burn as long as it was smoking out the left. That's how the blackshirts have gotten away with their violence thus far. But as fascist eyes look to Rome in October 1927, Luigi snaps into action.

On the 27th, the mustachioed PM calls on General Emanuele Pogliez's 12,000 troops to protect Rome and urges King Victor Emmanuel to declare martial law. The king agrees, but when the PM's decree arrives on his desk for his signature the next morning, Victor has seemingly had a change of heart. Fooled by fascist propaganda, he thinks there are as many as 100,000 blackshirts waiting to march on Rome, far too many for the Italian army to handle.

Reality is closer to 26,000 blackshirts, many of whom don't even have guns and would pose little challenge to the army, assuming that the army remains loyal, that is. But regardless of his real odds, the king caves. Luigi resigns immediately, and his majesty asks the liberal and former wartime prime minister Antonio Salandra to form a government that includes Benito and his fascists. But Benito refuses. He knows he can get more. The next day, October 29th, Benito receives a phone call from Rome. He then asks for information in writing. A formal request

arrives at one o'clock. His Majesty the King asks you to come immediately to Rome, for he wishes to offer you the responsibility of forming a ministry. It's just after 10.50 a.m., October 30, 1922. The train that left Milan last night carrying the soon-to-be Prime Minister of Italy, Benito Mussolini, has just pulled into the Rome station. Stepping out from his sleeping car, Benito greets thousands of blackshirts and fascists. Many of them strolled into the city unopposed this morning, and now, with the trams shut down and cars at a stop, they continue their stroll toward the Quirina al Palais,

hoping to catch a glimpse of their glorious leader, their Luce. Shortly after 11 o'clock, the now very bald and clean-shaven 5'7'' former newspaper man struts up the steps of the two-story marble palace. And is he projecting his fascist power by dressing in a black shirt? Or is he, as some historical documents indicate, dressed respectfully in formal mourning attire. I tend to think the latter. Benito is now standing before the king.

What does he say? Ah, again sources conflict. Perhaps he says, Majesty, I have come from the battlefield, fortunately bloodless. Or is it, Majesty, I bring you the Italy of Vittorio Veneto, reconsecrated by a new victory? Yeah, none of it's likely true. Just fascism myth building. Most likely the latter, with Benito simply and nervously accepting the king's invitation to form a government, thus making the 39-year-old the youngest prime minister in the kingdom's history. Stepping out on the balcony, Benito calls to the people below.

Within a few hours, you'll have not only a ministry, but a government. He then departs, leaving the weary king to acknowledge the gigantic ecstatic crowd, shouting, Long live the king! Living through this moment, British ambassador to Italy, Sir Ronald William Graham, writes that Benito has an opportunity which no previous Italian minister has enjoyed.

The fascist prime minister seems to feel the same way, later writing, My political instinct told me that from that moment, there would rise with increasing truth and with increasing expansion of fascist activity, the dawn of new history for Italy, and perhaps dawn on a new path of civilization. Well then, let's see what the new prime minister will do with this opportunity.

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Benito Mussolini hardly marched on Rome to seize power in late October 1922. The march then was no more real than his alleged epic utterances and power-projecting attire when meeting with King Victor Emmanuel III. No matter, the legend of the fascist leader's might only grows. Conversely, Benito's biographer Jasper Ridley argues that the fascist prime minister is less all-powerful and more managing to project two images of himself at once. Quote, Mussolini had won power by combining the roles of a responsible conservative politician

and a revolutionary leader. He had kept aloof from the violent actions of his followers without losing their support. But in the eyes of all the marching blackshirts, he was their duce, to whom they were passionately devoted." Close quote. This dual projection continues once he's in power. As the new PM, Benito shows some interest in Catholicism, leading his whole cabinet to mass at the altar of the unknown soldier at the Vittoriano Monument in Rome. It's a nice conservative appeal. Meanwhile, he has strong fascist words for Italy's legislature. On November 16, 1922, Benito addresses the jam-packed Chamber of Deputies. Leaning into the growing myth of the March on Rome and his power,

the new Prime Minister tells them, I could have made this dingy and gloomy hall into a bivouac for my legions. I could have barred a parliament and formed an exclusively fascist government. I could have, but at least for the moment, I did not wish to do so." Well, that's not all true, but who here realizes it? And the charade continues as Benito tells the legislators that he will have to call for elections unless they grant him emergency powers for educational, military, and financial reforms. I do not want, so long as I can avoid it, to rule against the Chamber.

But the Chamber must feel its own position. That position opens the possibility that it may be dissolved in two days or in two years. We ask full powers because we want to assume full responsibility. The Chamber does it, baffling when we remember that the fascists still only hold 38 of this chamber's 535 seats. In the upper house, they don't even have a single senator. But given Benito's opposition to Marxism and appearance at mass, property owners and Catholics figure that they're better off with Benito than letting the property redistributing

atheists, the socialists and communists, come to power. And so, it's only the chamber's socialists and communists who vote against this as Italy's legislature hands over check and balance eroding authority, continuing to make Benito's fascist power less a myth and more a reality. In December 1922, the new Prime Minister visits London, where he tells the labor movement's daily herald that there's no chance that the fascists and socialists in Italy can form a truce. Like Italy's chamber, many British leaders feel that Benito's pungent version of nationalism is better than the horrors of communism that they're watching seize Russia right now. And fearing that's Italy's alternative, they're pretty supportive of his regime.

Tepidly, that sentiment extends to the rest of the West as Benito continues to build his international reputation. In 1923, an Italian general helping to resolve a border dispute between Greece and Albania is murdered in Greece. Benito makes over-the-top restitution demands from Greece, and when it fails to meet them, he sends troops to occupy the Greek Isle of Corfu. This incident's relevance to our story is two-fold. One, in this first significant test of the new League of Nations ability to resolve conflicts,

the League utterly fails. 2. As Mussolini ultimately prevails, he gains insane popularity back in Italy. American Magazine editor Isaac F. Markussen reflects in the New York Times that, quote, Mussolini is a Latin Roosevelt who first acts and then inquires if it is legal. In my opinion, the Corfu incident was a death blow to the League of Nations. If the League had acted peremptorily and insisted on arbitration instead of permitting Mussolini to bring Europe to the brink of another war, its prestige would have been assured. Even the most ardent admirers of the League in England were humiliated over its failure

to act when the crisis arrived between Italy and Greece." Close quote. Wow! Isaac sure knows how to foreshadow. In early 1924, Benito again shows his strength dealing with Britain. See, Italy is poised to become the first Western power to recognize the legitimacy of the Soviet Union. But British Prime Minister, Ramsay MacDonald, asks him to hold off so their two countries

can do so simultaneously. Benito does. Then the British beat him to the punch. Ah. Refusing Britain's apology, Benito then sends an Italian ambassador to Moscow. The first from a Western power, thereby eclipsing Britain's lesser diplomat in the USSR, a Chargé d'Affaires. Italians delight in their PM's international swashbuckling.

With this increased popularity, Benito calls for elections. He also does so with the aid of the new Acerbo law, which makes it so that if a party wins at least 25% of the vote and the highest plurality, it gets to take two-thirds of the seats in parliament. Between this insane new law and Benito's rising star, the April 6, 1924 election hands the fascists 225 seats and with allies their faction takes 66% of the chamber. But even with Italy's genuine excitement for fascism the voter intimidation was real and socialist deputy Giacomo Mattiotti flatly calls this out as Parliament meets on May 30th. In fact he lets his

colleagues know that he would rather die than cave, booming out over the shouts of the chamber's fascists. You may kill me, but you will never kill my ideas. Long live socialism. Wow. Is this really where Italian politics is now? Potential government sanctioned murder? On June 7th, Benito speaks to the chamber,

urging reconciliation between political parties. Maybe Giacomo will be okay? No. Only three days later, at 4.30 pm on June 10th, five men intercept Giacomo and force him into a car. When his wife reports him missing the next day, The police do nothing. June 12th comes and the Chamber of Deputies raises the issue. Benito says that the police are working on it while the Chamber's socialists and communists accuse the PM of having Giacomo murdered. One Chamber official remembers Benito trembling during those verbal attacks. Perhaps Il Duce got scared. Nearly two weeks later, on June 27th, socialists protest the murder and remove themselves from

the chamber. Finally, the next month, on August 16th, Giacomo Mattiotti's body is found, beaten and buried, just outside Rome. The police report that five fascists killed Giacomo. The murderers had orders from lower-level leadership. But nothing connects to the Prime Minister. Benito does damage control. He meets with the King on June 17th. To the PM's relief, His Majesty does nothing regarding the Mattiotti murder. As for the party, Il Duce forces some underlings to resign. But with political foes remaining, and another spree of fascist violence across the country,

Benito knows his answer isn't to back down but to act fast and consolidate power. After speaking to the King, he's ready to assume full responsibility for the country. It's just after 3pm, January 3rd, 1925. With a scowl as prominent as his firm jaw and shorn bald head, Benito Mussolini bursts through a door into the semi-circular Chamber of Deputies. Dismissing the smattering of applause with his right hand, Benito takes his place at the Prime Minister's bench, facing his parliament. Adjusting his tie, the famed fascist begins,

Gentlemen, the speech I am going to make before you might not be classed as a parliamentary speech. Article 47 of the statute says, The Chamber of the Deputies has the right to accuse the Ministers of the King and to bring them to face the high court of justice. I formally ask if in this chamber or outside it there is anyone who wants to make use of Article 47. Silence falls on the chamber. Will someone be brave enough to accuse this powerful prime minister?

Did he really do anything that needs to be brought to the high court of justice? Nobody speaks. Newly invigorated, Benito forges on, accusing himself of all the horrible things many of his critics are now too afraid to say after the Matiotti incident. But then, Il Duce slowly tears apart each argument, claiming full responsibility for the violence of his movement, but asserting that greatness is coming under his leadership. I declare here before this assembly, before all the Italian people, that I assume I alone the political, moral, historical responsibility for everything that has happened. If fascism

has only been castor oil or a club and not a proud passion of the best Italian youth. The blame is on me. If fascism has been a criminal association, if all the violence has been the result of a determined historical, political, moral delinquency, the responsibility for this is on me. Because I have created it with my propaganda from the time of our intervention in the war to this moment. Italy, gentlemen, wants peace, wants quiet, wants work, wants calm.

We will give it with love, if that be possible, or with strength, if that be necessary. Having now gotten away with indirect murder, Benito continues to rack up the wins in the arena of foreign affairs. He gets an oil concession from Albania. In 1925, he works on the Treaty of Locarno, which admits thus far excluded Germany into the League of Nations. In March 1926, Clementine Churchill has tea with Benito while in Rome. She writes to her husband, Winston, that Il Duce has the, quote,

"...most impressive, quite simple and natural, very dignified, beautiful, golden-brown, piercing eyes which you see but can't look at." Currently serving as Britain's Chancellor of the Exchequer, Winston replies that, "...no doubt, he is one of the most wonderful men of our time, but also cautions with a quote from an early 20th century liberal English politician, Augustine Burrell, "'tis better to read about a world figure than to live under his rule." Around this time, Adolf Hitler requests a signed photo of Benito from the Italian embassy in Berlin.

He's refused, but in a respectful way, of course. Apparently, Il Duce doesn't care to be involved with Adolf's German nationalists right now. Meanwhile, Benito is instituting what he calls a policy of force at home. He replaces the socialist trade unions with fascist unions and extends the workday from 8 hours to 9. In September 1926, an anarchist makes what is the fourth attempt on Ilduche's life. Seizing on this, Benito's Council of Ministers issues a series of decrees in early November empowering them all the

more and expelling all remaining socialist legislators from the chamber, officially making Italy a one-party dictatorship. But generally, the world doesn't seem phased. Traveling through Rome that January, Winston Churchill says that he's been thoroughly charmed by Benito's gentle and simple Barry, and by his calm, detached poise in spite of so many burdens and dangers. If I had been an Italian, I am sure I should have been wholeheartedly with you. Benito has all but reinvented himself with only one thing remaining.

To quote his biographer Joseph Ridley, Mussolini had abandoned, one by one, all the doctrines that he had expounded so vigorously and brilliantly before 1914. His internationalism, his socialism, and his republicanism. It now remained for him also to repudiate his hatred of the Catholic Church. Yes, hatred. See, when the war-filled process of Italian unification yielded a kingdom of Italy in 1861, it did so, in part, at the expense of the Papal States. In fact, the fight between the new Italian kingdom and the sovereign state of the Catholic Church didn't end until 1870. Nor did it do so on good terms, as the popes since then have refused to acknowledge their loss of Rome and surrounding lands.

This history has all contributed to why young socialist Benito wasn't a fan of Catholicism. But by 1926, the so-called Roman question looks like it might be answered. Pope Pius XI writes an open letter essentially saying that he's open to negotiation and formal conversations begin. It has its ups and downs, but by February 1929, things are settled. It's time to sign the Vatican Italian or Lateran Accords. It's mid-morning, February 11th, 1929. We're in Rome, Italy, where the crowds cheer as a car pulls up at the Lateran Palace,

across the city from the Vatican. As the vehicle's door opens, a bald man in a morning suit with tails and a top hat emerges. Naturally, it's Prime Minister Benito Mussolini. Cardinal Pietro Gasparri escorts Il Duce through the palace. He's an important figure. The Cardinal is the Pope's Secretary of State and the architect of today's deal. As the group makes their way to the hall of the popes,

Benito's Undersecretary of Foreign Affairs, Dino Grandi, takes note of how the Cardinal points out, quote, names of strange and distant lands, with a smile as if wanting to emphasize for us how vast was the power and the reach of the Catholic Church in the world. Seems that even as the Vatican is acknowledging Il Duce's power over Italy, the cardinal still

wants to subtly remind him of the Church's global reach. Finally, Benito and Pietro reach their seats among the eight intricately carved black chairs arranged behind a 16 by 4 foot rose table. Smiling, the Cardinal hands Il Duce a gold pin. The formerly relaxed fascist now appears uneasy, but nonetheless scribbles out his signature, finalizing a deal that does three monumental things. 1. Officially recognizes the Vatican as a sovereign city-state beyond the Italian government's

reach. 2. Delicately spells out the governmental relationship between the Pope and the Duce. And 3. Solidifies Italy's promise to pay the Pope handsomely in return for his agreement to give up the claim to the Papal States. Benito's done what many thought impossible. He's normalized relations between the Vatican and Italy.

The people see this as proof that his dictatorship is a success. He's popular in Italy with the Vatican and with foreign governments. But here's the question, will that respect hold as Il Duce pushes the limits of international treaties and agreements? No Frills delivers. Get groceries delivered to your door from No Frills with PC Express. Shop online and get $15 in PC Optimum Points on your first five orders. Shop now at NoFriills.ca. On February 11, 1932, Pope Pius XI and Benito Mussolini officially meet for the first time. Il Duce neither bows down nor kisses the Pope's hand, and Pius XI refuses to allow photographs to be taken of the event. It's a monumental meeting of these leaders of the two now acknowledged separate states.

One that will bear further fruit even as Pius XII takes over in 1939. But that's a story for another day. Right now we need to meet another rising leader of another neighboring state. Adolf Hitler. Adolf's path to power is coming. It's the next episode, in fact. But as we meet him in Benito's tale, all you need to know right now is this. Back on January 30th, 1933,

Adolf Hitler became the Chancellor of Germany. And when the German legislature's building went up in flames the next month, he got emergency powers and proceeded systematically to sweep political leaders not belonging to his Nazi party from power. He's also proven a bit evasive in foreign affairs. Well, evasive is putting it mildly.

He's even pulled Germany from the League of Nations that Ilducce worked so hard to get Germany into. Yeah, that's got to steam for the Italian leader. Anyhow, at this point, the German government is eager to set up a meeting between Europe's two leading fascists. So, in spring 1934, a summit between Benito and Adolf is put on the books. It's not a formal state visit. Remember, neither is officially the head of state as Germany still has its dead republic's

president, Paul von Hindenburg, titularly hanging about, and Italy continues to pretend King Victor Emmanuel III is, well, a king. So this is more a meeting between like-minded, possible friends. Both countries agree to keep it fairly on the down-low, but after Adolf indirectly hints at the get-together to the press, Benito has to reassert himself as the Alpha. He leaks the news.

The two leaders are set to discuss economics, disarmament, Central Europe, and of course, their conflicting views on Austria. Adolf wants Austria annexed into Germany while Benito has zero interest in that happening. Nor are they aligned on antisemitism. Adolf is an ardent antisemite, whereas one of Benito's current favorite mistresses is Jewish. As for communicating, they'll speak in German. See, the soon-to-be-fiorer doesn't speak Italian,

but Il Duce boasts of his fluency in German. Let's see how this goes, shall we? of his fluency in German. Let's see how this goes, shall we? It's a sunny day, June 14th, 1934. Dressed in striped pants and a white shirt and tie with a beige trench coat and holding a slightly rumpled fedora, Adolf Hitler steps off his airplane

at San Nicolo Airfield in Venice, Italy. But embarrassment washes over the Austrian-born German chancellor as his eyes fall on his Italian counterpart. Benito Mussolini is dressed in a fancy uniform with riding boots. This doesn't look like the casual meet and greet that the German foreign ministry promised. Did Benito not say to forego the tales and medals of diplomatic visits? Because of the proposed casual nature of the summit, Adolf's German delegation is small.

He only brought a few SS men and detectives. Ah, but why detectives? Does Adolf not trust Italian security even though they've essentially shut down the city? Well, attempting to recover from the awkward first impression of his casual garb, Adolf proudly salutes Benito with the traditional Nazi greeting. Il Duce merely shakes his hand in response. Is that because he doesn't see the German as an equal fascist leader, but rather as

an off-brand knockoff? Does the Italian want yet another way to assert his dominance over him? Commentaries swirling from the press watching this first encounter, slightly bemused. The summit really doesn't get better. They have two conversations, both without staff or interpreters, so as to reflect their forming an intimate bond. Despite oft-repeated claims to the contrary, Benito's German is actually quite good, but not as good as he thinks, and he struggles a bit with Adolf's Austrian accent. But Adolf's put off by the first conversation as he effectively caves on Austria to placate Benito, who seems to care only about Italy and not show much interest in an ideological

alliance with Nazi Germany. Ah yes, the whole extreme nationalist aspect of fascism does have its challenges when trying to make international friends. Later, they visit the modern Art Biennale. Fascists typically dig avant-garde and futuristic stuff, hence Adolf's arrival by plane, not train. But the German, soon to be Fuhrer, hates the quote-unquote degenerate art he sees here. Lunch at the Venice Golf Club is simply disgusting. Adolf tastes salt in his coffee. Rumor has it that the Jewish head chef purposely sabotaged the food, but we don't really know for sure. Their second one-on-one conversation goes as blandly as the first.

Benito reportedly hates how his companion refuses to discuss solving real issues and instead quotes his own recently published book Mein Kampf. The cherry on top of this outwardly great but inwardly crumbling event is Yves Ducce's July 15th speech in which he makes another display of dominance by subtly yet clearly and publicly reminding Adolf that Italy was a great war winner, while Germany and Austria super weren't. Ho ho. Phew.

Seems like this would-be friendship is awfully testy. The fraught relationship looks no better in the months ahead. Commenting on Austrian Nazis' July Putsch that same year, which resulted in the Austrian Chancellor's assassination but otherwise failed, Ilducce isn't shy about criticizing the Fuhrer and his Aryan race beliefs. On September 6th he says, Thirty centuries of history allow us to look with sovereign pity at some doctrines from the other side of the Alps, sustained by the descendants of people who did not know how to write at the time when Rome had Caesar, Virgil, and Augustus. Unable to take criticism about his supposedly superior race, Adolf fires back at a dinner on August 17th, calling the

Italians racially inferior and their army unreliable. But speaking of that so-called unreliable army, Benito has plans for it. After all, fascism's extreme nationalism calls for an expanding imperial state, and he wants to see Italy return to a Roman Empire style glory. And he's got a target for this first fascist land acquisition. Abyssinia, or as you and I know it, Ethiopia. It makes imperial sense. Apart from Liberia, Ethiopia is the only other African country that isn't a colony or protectorate

of a European power and therefore an easier target. While Italy has had its sights on the Horn of African Nation since it took a piece of neighboring Somalia in the 1880s on its way to picking up Libya between 1911 and 1912, it has thus far failed to snatch Ethiopia. Well, Il Duce is ready to change that. On December 5, 1934, Italian troops make a menacing appearance along Ethiopia's, British Somaliland's, and Italian Somaliland's ambiguous border at Walwal. A deadly skirmish ensues, with Ethiopians drawing the first blood.

Ah, sounds like this likely played out exactly as Ilducce had hoped. Now he has cause to escalate. Benito demands an apology and compensation from Ethiopia. He also tells other European countries not to involve themselves and of course has no interest in the League of Nations budding in. On February 23, 1935, Italian troops sail for Africa. But Adolf Hitler serves up a distraction shortly thereafter, announcing his first break from the Great War-ending Treaty of Versailles.

He's requiring compulsory military service in Germany. The Great War's allied nations of Britain, France, and Italy meet. Il Duce is clear that he'll do his part to maintain peace in Europe, but not at the expense of his interests in Africa. In August 1935, Italian troops sail through the Suez Canal, building up their forces in Africa. On the 8th of that month, Yilducie releases a press statement essentially reminding the world that his country's goals in Ethiopia do not threaten any other Western powers, and

as such, they should stay out of it. Well, the British government is pretty split, but eventually decides that it's more important to keep Italy on the side of the Allies. Nonetheless, Benito's frustrated Italian press has already begun a smear campaign reminding its readers that Britain has little room to talk given its Boer war atrocities and other imperial conquests. has little room to talk given its Boer war atrocities and other imperial conquests. On September 17, the American ambassador Samuel Miller Breckenridge Long meets with Benito, without the knowledge of the U.S. government, to try and recommend peace where his European counterparts have failed. Il Duce isn't having it.

The ambassador writes to Secretary of State Cordell Hull, quoting the Italian as saying, It is too late to talk of compromise. It is too late to withdraw any of my plans for operation in East Africa. I will proceed. I will not interfere with anyone. I do not expect anyone will interfere with me. But I will not permit interference. I have one million men under arms in Italy.

I have a million men under arms in Italy. I have a competent Navy. I have an Air Force with a certain superiority. I will not permit interference from any source." At 5 a.m. on October 3rd, 1935, without officially declaring war, mind you, Italy begins its military conquest. I'll spare you the intense details, but the key things to know right now are that 1. Pope Pius XI supports Benito's military moves. 2.

The League of Nations condemns Italy's aggression by imposing sanctions. And 3. General Emilio de Bono's army is not very successful against Ethiopian forces. Britain and France offer a deal to Italy. Known as the Hoi Laval Plan, it will give Italy the fertile regions of Ethiopia while leaving a third of the nation nominally independent. Yerduce rejects the offer. And this rejection is a true turning point. It damages the relationship between the First World War's old British-French-Italian alliance and thus, perhaps, opens the door to a new friendship between Italy and Germany.

Meanwhile, on the ground, Italian General Emilio de Bono is still inefficient. So in November, Benito fires, then replaces him with General Pietro Badojo. By February 1936, Pietro is making military progress, but his tactics shock the world. Violating the Geneva Protocol of 1925, he deploys mustard gas against the mostly barefoot Ethiopian army. He also bombs British-run Red Cross hospitals. It's horrific. On March 7, 1936, Adolf further violates the Treaty of Versailles by sending troops into the Rhineland.

Britain and France spiral. We'll hear more about that later, but it's only weeks after that, on March 31st, that General Pietro Badojo effectively completes his mission in Africa. Defeated Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie attempts to negotiate with Ilduce, but it's no use. On May 1st, Haile leaves Ethiopia on a British ship, and two days later, on May 3rd, Pietro enters the Ethiopian capital. On May 9th, Victor Emmanuel III is proclaimed King of Italy and Emperor of Ethiopia, and and Il Duce delights in announcing this victorious empire-building acquisition to the public. It's nearly 10.30 p.m., May 9, 1936.

Benito Mussolini stands on the balcony of the second story and in the center of the Renaissance era, Plato Venezia, in Rome. Nearly 400,000 Italians are gathered below to hear their fearless and fascist 52-year-old leader speak. Il Duce's voice roars well above the cheers of the crowd. The destiny of Ethiopia is sealed. Italy finally has its empire, fascist empire,

because it bears the signs indestructible of the will and power of the Roman Lictor, because this is the goal towards which, during fourteen years, the irrepressible and disciplined energies of the young, vigorous Italian generations were reenacted. Empire of peace, because Italy wants peace for itself and for all, and it is decided to the war only when it is forced by imperious unstoppable needs of life, empire of civilization and humanity for all the peoples of Ethiopia. The crowd is thrilled with this show of national might and military glory, and in accordance with fascism's political theater and cult-like adoration of a leader,

Il Duce's attempts to leave the balcony are interrupted by calls to come back out and acknowledge their continuing incessant applause. This repeats nine times. The people are so filled with quote unquote delirious joy as Australia's The Argus reports that their noise drowns out the traditional 21 gun salute. A few months later, our old professorial friend from many past episodes, W.E.B. Du Bois, offers his thoughts in an article for the Council on Foreign Relations, entitled Interracial Implications of the Ethiopian Crisis, a Negro view. Seeing the militarism of fascism, he questions, if Italy takes her pound of flesh by force, does anyone suppose that Germany will not make a similar attempt? Eventually, Dr. Du Bois comes to a bleak conclusion, to quote him again, the world, or any part of it, seems unable to do anything to prevent the impending blow. The only excuse for which is that other nations have done exactly what Italy is doing."

So true, Professor. I'm afraid that we won't see the world's flawed but growing and trying democracies stand up to either of these fascists' international bullying just yet. Worse still, Benito and Adolf are pushing past their awkward first date. either of these fascists international bullying just yet. Worse still, Benito and Adolf are pushing past their awkward first date. That same year, 1936, Il Duce signals that he's warmed up to the idea of the Fuhrer making a satellite state of Austria. Meanwhile, as the Spanish Civil War breaks out, both of them provide assistance to Spain's

nationalist aspiring dictator, Francisco Franco. That's some serious alignment. This, on top of the fallout between Italy and its old allies of Britain and France over Ethiopia, is enough for Benito to make the thawing bromance with Adolf official. In October 1936, they sign a treaty of friendship, which Il Duce calls a Rome-Berlin Axis, around which all European states that desire peace can revolve. Thus, the Rome-Berlin Axis is formed. This is, of course, but the start of the story of the Axis powers.

But having defined fascism and met its creator Benito Mussolini, while witnessing his ascent to power in Italy, it's time to close this first chapter. Next time, we'll fill in a few of the fascist blanks as we back up the clock to witness the rise of his German counterpart, the fall of Germany's great war-ravaged Weimar Republic, and the impending blow so astutely predicted by W.E.B. Du Bois. A blow that you and I might say is coming with lightning speed. History That Doesn't Suck is created and hosted by Greg Jackson.

Episode researched and written by Greg Jackson and Riley Neubau. Production by Airship. Sound design by Molly Bach. Theme music composed by Greg Jackson and Riley Neubaut. Production by Airship. Sound design by Molly Bach. Theme music composed by Greg Jackson. Arrangement and additional composition by Lindsey Graham of Airship. For biblioart to evolve primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit httpspodcast.com. HTTPS is supported by fans at.podcast.com slash membership. My gratitude to you kind souls provide funding to help us keep going. Thank you.

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