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F&L Blog – A Black Critique of Fascism

A Black Critique of Fascism: Lessons from Black Radical and Anti-Colonial Thinkers for the 21st Century

by Vanessa E. Thompson

30.10.2026

From genocidal colonial violence and the terror of racial apartheid and lynching regimes to mass incarceration and related methods of surplus containment, such as border regimes, these forms of rule have combined legal normality for some segments of society with systematic violence against racialized working-class and working-poor populations. Tracing the rich tradition of Black radical and anti-colonial critiques of fascism, Vanessa E. Thompson argues that we must not confine our analysis to European fascism of the early twentieth century. Moreover, Black radical and anti-colonial thinkers offer a perspective in which fascistization – that is, the transition toward more fascist forms of rule – is not regarded as the antithesis of liberal democracy but as embedded within liberal-democratic rationalities and projects. This perspective holds important lessons for renewing anti-fascist politics today: the task is not merely to combat the far right, but also to confront the social conditions and state dynamics in liberal democracies that drive fascistization.

This text first appeared in the German magazine LuXemburg. The Fascism & Liberalism Blog is honored to publish this shortened and translated version with the kind permission of Vanessa Thompson. 
 

“Fascist governments do not permit revolutionary or progressive opposition groups to exist, no matter how peaceful or nonviolent they are. It doesn't matter whether the fascist government simply outlaws the groups, like in Nazi Germany, or mounts a counterintelligence campaign to destroy opposition groups, like in the U.S.” - Assata Shakur, 1987

In light of the second Trump administration’s designation of Antifa as a domestic terrorist organization in 2025, the statement by the late Black revolutionary Assata Shakur appears strikingly prescient. Importantly, it represents a critique of fascism that is not limited to drawing analogies with the historical European cases, but identifies elements of fascist rule across different spatial and temporal contexts. The Black radical and anti-colonial theorists who developed this tradition understand fascism primarily in relation to capitalist social relations, crisis and the imperialist drive for expansion, and to forms of extra-economic violence that shape the dynamics of capitalism. What can we learn from their analyses at a time when discussions of a new fascism are once again dominated by Eurocentrism? 

Colonialism as a Prefiguration of Fascism

As early as the interwar years, Black Marxists and radical anti-colonial theorists argued that the fascism emerging in Europe was not a “new” phenomenon but had already been embedded in Europe’s colonial projects. Colonial techniques and forms of accumulation such as the legally protected exploitation of “unfree” labor and racial governance through violence and coercion were, in a sense, a prefiguration of fascism. From this perspective, the genocidal campaigns and methods of Belgian and German colonialism in present-day DR Congo (1885–1908) and Namibia (1904–1908) can be understood not only as precursors to the Nazi’s systematic mass murder, but as instances of what Alberto Toscano calls “fascism-before-fascism” [1].

At the time, Black and Third World Marxists such as George Padmore and C.L.R. James understood fascist rule as both a reaction to capitalist crisis and an expression of Western imperialism. Consequently, they saw “democratic” imperialism (as allegedly opposed to fascist imperialism) as incapable of truly combating fascism. Tellingly, the struggle of “democratic” (British and French) imperialism against European fascism left not only colonial rule intact but also the very conditions that had given rise to fascism in the first place.

“If the fascists win they will take the colonies back. If the ‘democracies’ win they will keep them. But whether ‘democracies’ win, or fascists win, the Africans remain slaves in their own country” - C.L.R. James, 1939

It was on these grounds that George Padmore, a Caribbean Marxist who organized dockworkers and sailors in Hamburg on behalf of the Comintern in the late 1920s and early 1930s, criticized the Comintern’s collaboration with the “democratic” imperialist powers – France, the United States, and Great Britain – in the fight against fascism. Rather than rejecting any popular front or cooperation between socialist and social democratic/centric forces per se, Padmore was obviously concerned about its political orientation. He was convinced that anti-fascist alliances would be ineffective if they left the root causes of fascism, including its colonial dimension, unaddressed. As Alberto Toscano also noted, in his 1936 book How Britain Rules Africa, Padmore argued that the racism of the settler colony was “the breeding-ground for the type of fascist mentality that is being let loose in Europe today” and that South Africa was “the world’s classic Fascist state” based on the “unity of race as against class” [2].

The Trinidadian historian C.L.R. James took a similar position, noting that after their victory in the First World War, Great Britain, France, and Belgium simply took over Germany’s colonies. His diagnosis in 1939 was equally bleak: “If the fascists win they will take the colonies back. If the ‘democracies’ win they will keep them. But whether ‘democracies’ win, or fascists win, the Africans remain slaves in their own country” [3]. With these arguments, Padmore and James anticipated Aimé Césaire’s better-known analysis in his Discourse on Colonialism (1950), in which he describes fascism as a “a formidable shock in return” of colonial violence that reverberated from the colonies back to the European metropolises (often translated, somewhat inaccurately, as “boomerang”). Césaire points out that as long as National Socialism was only being imposed on non-European peoples, Europeans could turn a blind eye to it, could excuse and legitimize it [4].

Racial Fascism in the Segregated United States

While the before-mentioned authors analyzed fascism from the perspective of the so-called periphery, Black radicals in the U.S. focused on the Western core. In his 1935 classic Black Reconstruction, the Marxist sociologist W.E.B. Du Bois emphasizes that fascist tendencies are deeply rooted in the structure of liberal democracies, also domestically [5]. He argues that following the Reconstruction – the rebuilding and reintegration of the U.S. South after 1865 – and the possibility of multi-racial class struggle and transformation, the capitalist class of plantation owners carried out a “counter-revolution of property”. Facing their defeat and the formal abolition of slavery, they shifted their strategy to integrating white workers into the political-ideological project of racist supremacy and the massive deployment of racist terror against Black and non-white workers. This included the introduction of new forms of forced labor such as the convict-leasing system and the Black Codes – a series of laws enacted in former Confederacy states explicitly designed to continue to limit the rights and freedoms of Black people to ensure their super-exploitation. A sophisticated legal apparatus enshrined racial segregation and prevented any form of social, economic, or political participation along racial lines. Additionally, parts of the executive state apparatus, particularly local and state law enforcement, often operated with considerable autonomy and in close collaboration with the Ku Klux Klan, terrorizing Black populations across the South. 

According to Du Bois, all of these are characteristics of fascism: the daily racist terror of the lynching regime, forced labor on the plantations and regimes of super-exploitation, the systematic dehumanization and racist segregation in all areas of life, the denial of civil rights, and the normalization of an apartheid regime. In sum, U.S. society was characterized by the coexistence of the rule of law for some and unrestricted “arbitrariness” for others. Du Bois’ analysis of fascism is thus surprisingly similar to the concept of the “Dual State” in the analysis of National Socialism by the Jewish political scientist Ernst Fraenkel. Fraenkel’s description of how legal normality and a regime of arbitrariness and coercion coexisted in Nazi Germany is regarded as a seminal work in the study of fascism. However, as Alberto Toscano points out in his book Late Fascism, racial fascism went unnoticed “because it operated on the other side of the colour line” [6]. In fact, structural racism shapes what is perceived as fascism in the first place and which coercive relations are considered a “normal” part of state rule.

According to Toscano, Black radical, Marxist, and anti-colonial approaches show that fascism should not be understood statically as a shift from liberal to fascist regimes, but rather as an ideological and political process that “targets racialized and subaltern population groups in differentiated ways” [7]. They demonstrate that fascism is not a uniform phenomenon conforming to a particular “template”, such as German or Italian fascism. Instead, colonial and racialized capitalism and imperialism were always accompanied by fascist potentials, ideological elements, and practices that developed before the rise of fascism in Europe.

Black Radical Anti-Fascism in the Post-War and Neoliberal Era

"Fascistization can unfold within liberal democracies rather than standing in fundamental opposition to them."

Black radical analyses of fascism in the above-described tradition remained relevant in the postwar era, too. The Black Caribbean communist Claudia Jones, the prisoner and Black Guerrilla Family member George Jackson, as well as the Black feminist philosopher Angela Davis each describe processes of fascistization as a recombination and intensification of power relations intended to block a potential revolution by the exploited and disenfranchised in times of crisis.

Claudia Jones, who was deported to England during the McCarthy era, analyzed McCarthyism as a process of fascistization that involved large-scale repression against leftists, workers, and anti-imperialist organizations [8]. In doing so, Jones showed that fascistization can unfold within liberal democracies rather than standing in fundamental opposition to them.

Two decades later, amid the crushing of revolutionary movements and the onset of the neoliberal counter-revolution, George Jackson identified another fascist conjuncture in the United States. Writing from his cell at the notorious San Quentin State Prison (before being shot and killed while attempting to escape in 1971) Jackson described the relationship between prisons and fascistization. According to Jackson, the function and expansion of the prison system characterized the transition from the plantation society to the integration of Black workers into the wage labor regime. However, Jackson did not view the prison, including its political-economic function, as a continuation of slavery, which was geared towards the production of cotton, sugar, and coffee based on “unfree” labor. Rather, he viewed the prison as a state method for the suppression of revolutionary resistance and containment of the primarily racialized subproletariat and surplus populations. In the face of escalating crises, the expansion of the repressive state helps to forcibly assert class power [9]. 

"Against the backdrop of the capitalist polycrisis and intensifying competition for resources, these systems of warfare – including borders, prisons, and deportation regimes – present the model of 'accumulation through repression'."

In the following years, this form of crisis response and regulation would also become an essential element of the authoritarian-neoliberal politics of Thatcherism. In their 1978 book, Stuart Hall and his co-authors coined the term “policing the crisis” to describe the authoritarian, police-driven targeting of marginalized and migrant segments of the working class [10]. Hall understood these developments as a prerequisite for the emergence of new right-wing politics and ideology. In a similar vein, Ruth Wilson Gilmore, in her 2007 book Golden Gulag, described the neoliberal counter-revolution as a shift from military Keynesianism to “post-Keynesian militarism” [11] where instruments of crisis management – prisons, police, and borders – were massively expanded and strengthened – also in liberal-democratic states.

The culmination of this development is what contemporary sociologist William I. Robinson identifies as the rise of a “global police state,” increasingly facilitated by new technologies [12]. Beyond its function as a crisis response, Robinson also highlights its capacity to generate profits. Against the backdrop of the capitalist polycrisis and intensifying competition for resources, these systems of warfare – including borders, prisons, and deportation regimes – present the model of “accumulation through repression.” In his view, 21st-century fascism advances through an alliance between the faltering liberal-authoritarian “reformism from above” and right-wing authoritarian projects. Although ideologically not completely coherent, this new bloc cooperates effectively in expanding the regimes of warfare and carcerality.

Lessons from Black and Feminist Abolitionists for the 21st Century

"Black radical, anti-colonial and feminist abolitionist thinkers teach us that a simple restoration of welfare states – distinguishing between “deserving” and “undeserving” poor – does not bring processes of fascistization to an end. Rather than focusing solely on the role of far-right parties and movements, anti-fascist struggles today must also target the state mechanisms that drive fascistization."

In the past years we have witnessed massive state repression against Palestine solidarity protests, the multi-billion-dollar expansion of border regimes, and the increasingly stratified exploitation, containment and racist control of “surplus” populations. All these developments show that fascistization does not require fascists to be in power. Whether at the external borders of the EU, in prisons, or in impoverished and heavily policed neighborhoods, racialized working class and working poor people have long been subjected to forms of fascist violence.

For years, abolition feminists in Brazil, the U.S., and Europe have argued that the “policing of the crisis”, that is, the criminalization and containment of migration and poverty, must become the focal points of anti-fascist struggles – as exemplified by the widespread protests against border regimes and violence, of which the ICE raids are just one articulation. Abolition feminists also link struggles against carceral violence with struggles against privatization, the commodification of land and against all forms of warfare. Calls for the socialization of care work likewise advance a vision of the demilitarization and “de-incarceration” of society [13]. Together, these abolitionist struggles pave the way for new forms of anti-fascist internationalism.

Abolition feminists thus expand the scope of anti-fascist struggles not only by focusing on the social conditions and crises that give rise to fascistization in the first place, but also by promoting a materialist anti-fascist politics centered on workers – both in production and social reproduction – and the struggles of so-called “surplus” populations. In doing so, they overcome the severe limits of historical European anti-fascism and conventional labor struggles as well.

Crucially, Black radical, anti-colonial and feminist abolitionist thinkers teach us that a simple restoration of welfare states – distinguishing between “deserving” and “undeserving” poor – does not bring processes of fascistization to an end. Rather than focusing solely on the role of far-right parties and movements, anti-fascist struggles today must also target the state mechanisms that drive fascistization. This approach can offer a genuine alternative to the emerging late fascism: through abolition – that is, the internationalist dismantling of racist, gendered, and capitalist relations of production and imperialist violence, as well as the institutions that perpetuate them, in favor of an abolition democracy. 

headshot Vanessa E. Thompson

Vanessa E. Thompson is Associate Professor for Black Studies at the Department for Gender Studies at Queen’s University, Canada. Her work focuses on the relationship between racism and state violence, abolition, anti-colonial theories, and internationalism.

References

  1. Toscano, Alberto. 2025. “The Changing Strategies of Counter-Revolution.” Communis, June 10, 2025. 
  2. George Padmore (1936) cited in Toscano, Alberto. 2023. Late Fascism. Race, Capitalism and the Politics of Crisis, London: Verso, p.28. 
  3. James, C. L. R.. 1939. “Why Negroes Should Oppose the War.” Marxists Internet Archive. 
  4. Césaire, Aimé. 2000 (1955). Discourse on Colonialism. New York: Monthly Review Press. 
  5. Du Bois, W. E. B. 1998. Black Reconstruction in America, 1860–1880. New York: Free Press. 
  6. Toscano, Alberto. 2023. Late Fascism: Race, Capitalism and the Politics of Crisis. London: Verso, p.29. 
  7. Toscano, Alberto. 2025. “Das Gefängnis als faschistisches Labor.” nd, June 9, 2025.
  8. Jones, Claudia. 1949. “An End to the Neglect of the Problems of the Negro Woman.” Political Affairs, June 1949, 51–67.  
  9. Rodney, Walter. 1971. “George Jackson: Black Revolutionary.” Maji Maji 5: 4–6. 
  10. Hall, Stuart, Chas Critcher, Tony Jefferson, John Clarke, and Brian Roberts. 1978. Policing the Crisis: Mugging, the State, and Law and Order. London: Macmillan. 
  11. Gilmore, Ruth Wilson. 2007. Golden Gulag: Prisons, Surplus, Crisis, and Opposition in Globalizing California. Berkeley: University of California Press. 
  12. Robinson, William I. 2020. The Global Police State. London: Pluto Press. 
  13. e.g. Bhattacharya, Tithi. 2024. “Social Reproduction Theory as Diagnostic, Abolition as Politics: Reimagining Anticapitalism.” Labor 21(4): 117–129. 

Further Reading

  • Burden-Stelly, Charisse, 2019: Claudia Jones, the Longue Durée of McCarthyism, and the Threat of US Fascism, in: Journal of Intersectionality 3(1), 46–66 
  • Kelley, Robin D. G., 2025: The Black Radical Tradition Against Fascism and Genocide: The Long Durée, Media Education Foundation,
  • Samudzi, Zoé, 2021: Paradox of Recognition: Genocide and Colonialism, in: Postmodern Culture 31  
  • Walia, Harsha, 2021: Border and Rule: Global Migration, Capitalism, and the Rise of Racist Nationalism, Chicago 
  • Zelik, Raul, 2025: Treiber des Faschismus, in: ak: analyse und kritik 716
title page for the F&L blog post "Property Damages" by Jacob Blumenfeld

F&L Blog – Property Damages

Property Damages

by Jacob Blumenfeld

13.02.2026

Does private property secure freedom, or train us for domination? In this article, philosopher Jacob Blumenfeld traces how liberal ownership rights shape social relations, trigger ecological conflict, and foment authoritarian desires. His claim is not that all forms of private ownership corrupt individuals. Rather, he argues that the specific legal form of liberal property rights – granting exclusive control over socially necessary resources – enables relations of power, resentment, and authority that prime authoritarian movements. In an age of climate crisis and deepening inequality, the future hinges on the question of how property relations are organized: for private ends – or for social needs.

In a speech on January 21st in Davos, Donald Trump asked, rhetorically, in relation to Greenland: “Who wants to defend something on a lease?” To defend something, he implied, one must first own it. The need for protection becomes the justification for possession. Trump’s remark expresses a familiar liberal conviction: authority appears legitimate when grounded in ownership, and ownership is only legitimate if you take on ‘responsibility’ and can defend it. Property rights, thus, do not only allocate resources, they allocate decision-making power. Whoever owns decides; others adapt. This article examines the ideological roots of such thinking and discusses the political consequences of that ordinary arrangement posing the question: does owning property make you more prone to fascism? Does acquiring a taste of sovereign authority over an external thing slowly translate into a desire to dominate people as well? If you treat the world fundamentally as property, characterized by the right to use and abuse things at will, then isn’t it only a matter of time before you overstep the boundary between thing and person?

Property is Power

If slavery is the origin of property rights, as David Graeber once argued, then being a property owner is an education in dominion, the authority to dispose over what is mine by commanding the wills of other people. The right to an external thing is a license to treat others in certain ways in relation to the thing at hand. My legally sanctioned authority over this land, these assets, and those machines gives me the legitimate power to determine how others may or may not use them, irrespective of the social consequences. Treating something as property flattens the salient normative distinctions between items of personal use, societal infrastructures, natural landscapes, and means of production, as if they could all be simply mine or yours, ours or theirs, without further thought. Property is power over people, masked as a relation of power over things. Whether a pair of shoes or a pair of companies, a piece of land or a piece of writing, I can develop or destroy what’s mine as I see fit. Whether the air is polluted, food wasted, tenants evicted, or ecosystems plundered, that is not my concern. Freedom trumps consequences.

Liberalism is founded on the right to private property, but private property is also what breaks liberalism. For what better way than owning property is there for learning how to be a dictator? If this is true, then the bedrock of liberal freedom is made from the same material as the authoritarian longings it is supposed to ward off. Or maybe we have it backwards. Does not owning property make you more prone to fascist tendencies? If you don’t have anything at all to call your own, does that make you jealous of those who do? Resentful, hateful, you see others as threats or competitors, as rivals scrambling for scarce jobs, limited resources, and even romantic companions. Dependent on bosses, managers, and landlords, you despise those not above you—you want to be them—but those beside you and below you. They are the ones taking your job, raising costs, committing crimes. Squeezed between employers and unemployed, between owners and beggars, you seek an outlet for affirming your unrecognized status, for exercising the power of possession over property you don’t have. A class of vulnerable people—women, migrants, minorities—fills the void of property and upon them you exert your dominion. But resentment does not remain a private feeling—it seeks a public form. It looks for a figure who can promise to restore what should be yours, someone who can bring back greatness, who can give you a share of domination as compensation for a share of ownership.

The Liberal Paradox of Private Property Rights

Damaged subjects, damaged objects, damaged society—property leaves wreckage in its wake, whether you have it or you don’t. But what is property after all? And isn’t this about private property, not property as such? The term property can refer to a thing that is owned, to rules of ownership, or to the right to control the use of something. Ownership usually entails rights of exclusion: the authority to legitimately exclude others from determining the use of something, including the right to possess, to control, to sell, to destroy, and so on. Private property—as opposed to public, common, open access, social and other forms of ownership—grants the authority to decide on the use of something to a single person, although “person” here is not a human being, but a juridical category. This right to exclude others from having a say in determining the use of goods is the anti-democratic core of liberal democracy, and it is morally permitted due to the alleged gains that private property contributes to securing individual freedom and fostering economic efficiency.

"Property organizes our ethical relations, our ecological conditions, and our subjective identities. It habituates us to a grammar of command and deference"

But private property is not a simple one-way relation between owner and owned. Rather, the relation extends in multiple directions out from the self: from self to others, from self to world, and from self to self. Property, in other words, is a social relation, a world relation and a self-relation. It shapes how we relate to each other, how we treat nature, and how we treat ourselves. Property organizes our ethical relations, our ecological conditions, and our subjective identities. It habituates us to a grammar of command and deference. While owning personal possessions need not be problematic, at the societal level, private control over infrastructure, housing, or productive assets magnifies the dominating, sovereign power of private property over social life. That is why it’s so important to prevent social property relations from being structured in ways that are beyond democratic control. Letting private persons with ownership rights determine the fate of the natural environment, visual media, medical developments, or technological investments, to name a few, can cause immense damage not only to social institutions and complex ecosystems, but also to the psychological well-being of individuals themselves.

The paradox is that liberal property rights, in their very atomism, bind human beings together on a planetary scale through our forced inclusion in global markets. We are individually empowered to exclude each other, yet collectively unable to escape one another. Therein lies the dual power of property rights: separating us in ways that foster regression and binding us in ways that elicit material transformation.

Critical Property Theory

There has been a renaissance of critical property theory in recent years. Eva von Redecker has shown how authoritarian tendencies emerge as a kind of reflexive phantom possession over amputated rights to dominate others. Daniel Loick argues that property rights themselves deform the subjects who exercise them, and thus demands a non-appropriative relation to the world. Brenna Bhandar has traced the colonial violence embedded in legal techniques of property such as title by registration, while Robert Nichols has demonstrated how states create property through acts of dispossession. Across these approaches, a common theme emerges: property is not a neutral legal tool but a central site of social conflict, whether over housing, data, land, finance, and the environment, or wherever we have a stake in determining the boundaries of mine and yours.

"To treat nothing as property would block the will’s need to externalize itself. But to treat everything as property would be a scandal for ethical life, reducing all relations to the grammar of possession."

This insight has deep philosophical roots. Hegel described property as an “external sphere of freedom,” the domain in which the free will gives itself objective form in the world and can be recognized as such by others. For Hegel, property is a necessary but still one-sided realization of freedom. It must be taken up into richer ethical and political relations—family, civil society, and the state—if freedom is to acquire substance and direction. To treat nothing as property would block the will’s need to externalize itself. But to treat everything as property would be a scandal for ethical life, reducing all relations to the grammar of possession.

The political stakes of this ambiguity become stark in moments of crisis. In a 1934 essay on the relation between liberalism and fascism, Herbert Marcuse highlighted the property-centered definition of liberalism offered by Ludwig von Mises: liberalism, according to Mises, can be summed up in a single word—property, specifically private property in the means of production. From this premise follows both an unqualified defense of capitalism and a qualified tolerance for authoritarian rule, insofar as it is seen as a temporary bulwark against socialism. When property becomes the supreme value, the line between defending freedom and excusing domination grows perilously thin.

Max Horkheimer captured the view from below with brutal clarity: for those who live at the sharp end of economic power, liberal and authoritarian regimes often blur together. What changes is not the experience of hunger, police, or compulsion, but the language in which these realities are justified.

Liberal Property and Authoritarian Politics

A contemporary echo of this logic surfaced in Trump’s recent Davos speech, cited at the top. Ownership in Trump’s liberal-fascist rhetoric is bound explicitly to protection, and protection is bound to war—both legally and psychologically. What is not asked is what should be defended by whom in the first place. The fact that property must be defended is taken as retroactive justification for making it “mine.” Whether concerning oil, airspace, land, or minerals, the right to determine the use and abuse portions of the world as one’s property is the underlying premise of geopolitical struggle. Trump just made it explicit.

Also in Davos, Canadian prime minister Mark Carney defended what he calls the ‘liberal international order’ against Trump’s openly proprietarian language. Yet the contrast is less absolute than it appears: the liberal world order has long protected property claims through sovereignty, contracts, and international law, thereby limiting open territorial conflict while simultaneously enabling asymmetric control over resources, labor, and development across the global economy. Recognition and domination formed two sides of the same structure: internally pacified through rights, externally extended through markets, finance, and extraction.

"[...] conflicts increasingly appear in direct form as disputes over entitlement - who may dispose over shared conditions of life, and who must adapt."

Whether in Ukraine, Venezuela, or Gaza, it seems as if the recognition of formal property rights has suddenly ceased to play a role in geopolitics. But what is changing is not the respect for property as an international principle altogether, but the weakening of the discursive and juridical mediation around which property was previously organized. As the language of sovereignty loses its stabilizing force, conflicts increasingly appear in direct form as disputes over entitlement – who may dispose over shared conditions of life, and who must adapt. Those who have the power to take and defend property with force increasingly shape the future of the planet. Breaking the capacity of these claims to determine our collective fate for the gain of a few at the expense of the many is one of the defining political tasks of our time.

Under conditions of ecological crisis, these dynamics intensify further still. As material conditions deteriorate, struggles over access to energy, housing, water, and security sharpen. Claims of “mine” and “yours” harden, becoming less negotiable and more willing to enlist authoritarian means—which is what we are arguably witnessing in international politics already. Managing a declining economic order becomes a central political problem. If investment, infrastructure, and resource allocation remain governed primarily by markets and private rights, the burdens of transition will be distributed through mechanisms that amplify inequality, exclusion and violence. Demands for protection slide into demands for war.

Socialization or Regression

If authoritarian tendencies are rooted in the contradictions of liberal property rights, familiar liberal remedies, such as more rights, better juridical procedures and stronger institutions are unlikely to suffice. As long as the external sphere of freedom remains privately monopolized, the gap between formal equality and material power will continue to generate political and affective pressures that can be mobilized in illiberal directions. However, the alternative is not the abolition of property but its socialization, or rather, the abolition of one kind of property through its socialization: the democratization of the powers of use, control, and investment over the basic infrastructure of society so as to plan a better future together. Socialization means transforming property from a private claim backed by exclusive rights into a collective capacity oriented toward shared needs and democratic priorities. It asks who gets to decide what is built, extracted, funded, maintained, or allowed to decay. It seeks to expand the external sphere of freedom beyond the boundaries of private title – a necessary precondition for a more just and sustainable social order, particularly regarding the ownership of society’s central means of reproduction.

"When property relations fail to secure mutual recognition and the satisfaction of basic needs for large segments of society, they become politically damaging. The defense of private ownership transforms from a claim of freedom into a demand for domination."

In this sense, socialization is a struggle for recognition at the level of material life. It aims to make democracy effective not only during the election cycle but in the everyday organization of production, reproduction, and ecological repair. It is an attempt to align formal equality with real capacities to shape one’s conditions of existence. When property relations fail to secure mutual recognition and the satisfaction of basic needs for large segments of society, they become politically damaging. The defense of private ownership transforms from a claim of freedom into a demand for domination.

Property is not simply something individuals have. It is a social relation through which freedom, dependence, and mutual obligation are organized. How that relation is structured will shape not only patterns of inequality but the very forms of politics that appear plausible, legitimate, or necessary in moments of crisis. Property damages, and damage demands compensation. In a world of climate breakdown and deepening precarity, the stakes of property are nothing less than the kinds of futures we make possible—or foreclose.

Jacob Blumenfeld is a philosopher and postdoctoral fellow at the Centre for Social Critique in Berlin. His work spans critical property theory, the normative foundations of socialization, climate change and subjectivity, Fichte’s critical theory, and the moral philosophy of Günther Anders.

References

  • Angebauer, Niklas; Blumenfeld, Jacob; Wesche, Tilo (ed.) (2025): Umkämpftes Eigentum. Eine gesellschaftstheoretische Debatte. Suhrkamp.
  • Bhandar, Brenna. 2018. Colonial Lives of Property. Duke University Press.
  • Blumenfeld, Jacob. 2024. The Concept of Property in Kant, Fichte, and Hegel. Routledge.
  • Graeber, David. 2011. Debt: The First 5000 Years. Melville House.
  • Hegel, G.W.F. 1991 [1820]. Elements of the Philosophy of Right. Cambridge.
  • Horkheimer, Max. 1973 [1940] . “The Authoritarian State” in Telos 15: 3-20.
  • Loick, Daniel. 2023. The Abuse of Property. MIT Press
  • Marcuse, Herbert. 2009 [1934]. “The Struggle against Liberalism in the Totalitarian View of the State.” in: Negations: Essays in Critical Theory. Mayfly.
  • Mises, Ludwig von. 1985 [1927]. Liberalism. Liberty Fund/Cobden Press
  • Nichols, Robert. 2019. Theft is Property! Duke University Press.
  • Redecker, Eva von. 2020. “Ownership’s Shadow”. Critical Times 3 (1): 33–67.