Matthew Whitley is a writer, poet, and co-editor of a radical literary imprint.
Last week, President Donald Trump signed an executive order last week claiming to designate antifa as a “domestic terror organization.” On Thursday, he issued a directive for his government to pursue antifa. Talk spread of another, imminent order on dismantling left-wing groups. It was the culmination of years of obsessing over antifa.
As someone publicly associated with anti-fascist organizing, the proclamations weren’t the greatest shock. The repression is to be expected.
The reaction to Trump’s nakedly illegal designation from progressives, liberal media, and left-leaning think tanks, however, has given me a sense of dread.
That’s because opponents of MAGA have embraced a dangerous narrative: The antifa designation is moot because there is, simply, nothing to designate. “Antifa,” in this telling, will simply be used as a catchall to repress anyone opposed to Trump when, in truth, it’s just an idea with no concrete grounding in the world.
Opponents of MAGA have embraced a dangerous narrative.
Trump will indeed label just about all his opponents “antifa,” but the terms “antifa” and “antifascist” aren’t hollow references to mere ideas.
Contrary to Republicans’ portrayals, there is no overarching antifa organization or official network. The terms “antifa” and “antifascist,” though, do reflect an actually existing world of activists, researchers, thinkers, and organizers at real risk of persecution and dedicated to a specific politics.
If left-wing organizing is to be defended against Trump’s repression, denying their existence will only do further harm.
What Liberals Get Wrong
Anti-fascism was one of the most unifying and electrifying banners to organize under during Trump’s first administration. We may already be losing that framework, as Trump certainly hopes, to a deliberately nebulous sense of criminality associated with its language and symbols.
Instead of recognizing this, corporate media, mainstream commentators, and liberal voices have largely dismissed antifa
Consider how Luke Baumgartner, a research fellow in the program on extremism at George Washington University, responded while discussing antifa in a television interview on the heels of the latest designation.
Asked if there was anything real for Trump to target, Baumgartner said, “There is no hierarchical organizational structure. It is primarily a movement and an ideology. And there are no leaders. There are no assets. There are no bank accounts or revenue streams to go after either.”
The mainstream fact-checking site PolitiFact responded to the latest designation by citing past remarks from Michael German, a fellow from the Brennan Center for Justice’s liberty and national security program.
Comparing antifa’s designation to that of foreign terror groups, German said, “Antifa isn’t organized in that fashion in the first place, as it has no leaders, assets, or infrastructure, so banning material support to foreign anti-fascist groups would have little legitimate anti-terrorism effect here or abroad.”
This take — which is pervasive in mainstream and liberal circles — gets right that antifascist movements do not operate according to a centralized hierarchy. It is wrong, however, to dismiss the ways in which Antifa is grounded firmly in reality.
You can take it from me: I have organized and raised funds for the real-world structures that make up the anti-fascist movement.
Antifa in the Real World
Dismissing antifa runs the risk of leaving the people in the movement to the wolves.
A casual observer of mainstream, liberal, or Democratic Party talking points might be left with the impression that a “real,” organized, large, coordinated, and uncompromising anti-fascist movement may in fact be worthy of being treated as a terrorist organization.
At the very least, they might think that such a movement — which is precisely what we need right now — doesn’t need a robust defense. Why, after all, would you need to protect something that doesn’t exist?
The truth is that antifa and anti-fascist groups have been responsible for some of the most prescient and impactful organizing countering the far-right during the last decade.
Until the recent empowerment of an unleashed Trump administration and the support of wealthy business interests, the far right was languishing. Many notorious far-right groups and personalities were bankrupt, unemployable, facing prosecution, unable to attract audiences, plagued by infighting, harassed in public, under a constant microscope, and generally rendered weak and inert.
It was the work of dedicated and organized anti-fascists that made this possible. And that work was, I might hasten to add, perfectly legal.
Groups that have considered themselves antifa or anti-fascist run the gamut of organizational possibilities. They are formally and informally constituted, with and without membership, and range from publicly facing to completely anonymous. Their activities include the publication of research on the far right, producing cultural events, staging self-defense trainings, organizing de-platforming campaigns, and mounting counter-demonstrations.
As for assets, George Soros and liberal financiers certainly do not fund these activities. Activists themselves usually do. All groups need some money and assets to carry out the most basic work, even if the sums are paltry. I myself have fundraised for the basic infrastructure needed to do things like host meetings, run online platforms, call demonstrations, and produce educational materials.
A Better Approach
Instead of demeaning antifa by focusing on questions of organization or the technical feasibility of a domestic designation, liberals should rally around it — by putting the very values they espouse into action.
You don’t need to consider yourself antifa to believe in defending protected political speech or the right of free association.
Anti-fascists tend to be more concerned with questions of morality than questions of legality.
If they want to foster a functional opposition, liberals must say what they already know, despite their discomfort, and fight for these constitutional guarantees — even for protected speech that advocates for self-defense and discusses the politics of violence.
Anti-fascists tend to be more concerned with questions of morality than questions of legality, but liberals concerned about the rule of law ought to take succor in past precedents.
Direct action-focused groups in American history that moved to protect their communities, like the Black Panthers or militant labor unions, have shown that it cannot be made illegal to advocate for or practice community self-defense, whether that means learning to use arms, conducting boycotts and demonstrations, or feeding and educating your constituencies.
Considering the current administration’s open assault on “hostile” communities and “blue” states and cities, and the inability of courts and lawmakers to restrain its weaponization of the legal system, military, and law enforcement, that direct action example is more important than ever.
In the absence of fascist adversaries that are as concerned with free speech, the rule of law, or polite disagreement as their opponents are, a politics of mutual aid and community self-defense remains our most powerful choice.
Anti-fascism and anti-fascists have demonstrated how we might walk this path toward a politics of empowerment, in which we take direct responsibility for our own communities.
If we are going to foster a thriving, powerful movement equal to this dangerous moment, we must not surrender “antifa” to Trump’s whims and the worst fantasies of our opponents. The health and safety of our friends, family, and society may depend on it.
