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On Totalitarianism

Fascism may have become a cliché word.

So to clarify what it means -

and to understand why it isn’t a political phenomenon,

let us analyse the inner dynamic that creates it.

 

A fascist regime is the mirror of an inner attempt

to freeze reality into a monitored space of certainty -

even at the cost of great pain and anguish.

 

It is the outward projection of an imagined entity within us,

seeking to build a substitute reality

as compensation for unprocessed fear.

 

To avoid meeting that fear -

that is, to avoid meeting what we have already recognised as reality -

we "must" generate scenarios and occurrences

that serve as distractions, delaying our reunion with the whole.

 

This substitute reality is built on artificial symbols and imagery,

constructed to provide a coherent sense of stability -

an illusion that bypasses the wholeness we denied.

 

That is why fascism seeks unity.

 

This "unity" is an attempt to gather and mobilise

what was already free and whole, yet disconnected,

in order to sustain the imagined entity

as if it were all that exists.

 

The layered structure of fascism may seem infinite,

but it dissolves entirely

the moment we face the fear on which it stands.

 

There is no escaping fascism without this meeting,

for that is its very purpose:

to delay integration with reality.

 

Once the fear is met and expanded through,

we unify with ourselves -

and thus with reality.

Fascism loses its power as a natural projection -

for the resources that sustained it as a political phenomenon -

are no longer harvested and reinforced in a bidirectional recursive loop.

 

So perhaps you’ve wondered:

"How do fascists themselves have so much energy to destroy?"

 

Where does that endless vitality come from -

to hunt, destroy, kill and conquer,

again and again and again?

 

The answer is simple, yet profound.

This energy is life force diverted:

a compulsive behavior devoted to avoid life itself -

as a reflection for its enablers.

 

What we witness is the exhaustion of vitality

in service of distraction from being intimate.

 

And, of course, this dynamic is upheld

through careful framing:

the portrayal of those who seek freedom, harmony, and abundance

as weak, naïve, or confused.

 

This is the psychological signature of totalitarian behavior -

the desire to control reality absolutely.

 

But control over reality is impossible.

It can only create the appearance of mastery

through endless maintenance of a pre-charted territory.

 

Anyone who finds comfort in a violent ideology

becomes its host.

 

Their personal suffering receives its "solution"

through the ideology’s mediation of reality -

and thus, the person and the ideology merge.

 

But once one becomes an official host,

a terrible pact is made:

the ideology will offer a substitute for harmony,

but in return,

the host will lose intimacy with themselves -

the ability to sense what is true within.

 

This prohibition against intimacy is internal.

Its logic is simple:

if the host were to be intimate with themselves -

the ideology would collapse.

 

It collapses because its foundation

is the avoidance of holistic self-understanding.

 

This also explains why so many join fascism

once it has fully emerged.

 

The predecessor structure,

though seemingly moderate -

already cultivated the same pattern of distraction for control

that set the tone for its Successor.

 

 Both exist on the same spectrum:

a model of self-governance via outsourced mediation.

When that mediation grows harsher,

the host simply adapts -

preserving their inner position within the new regime,

believing they’ve changed,

while in truth,

only the narrative has.

That is why totalitarianism is not defeated by opposition.

Every encounter with self-control within the boundaries it defines -

reinforces it by revalidating its frame.

A frame that is softened and dissolves through intimacy.

 

When we are open to meet the fear that fuels control,

we rediscover the vitality that was once diverted into domination.

 

To see clearly is not to fight the projection,

but to recognise the origin beneath it:

the part of us that longed for safety

and mistook control for Careforism.

 

The antidote to fascism

is not ideology, nor resistance,

but the return to self-honesty -

to the living dialogue between inner and outer reality.

 

Once intimacy replaces avoidance -

what remains is freedom to witness what is.

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