The argument will be made in good faith that 13 September was not fascism. That it was simply “right-wing,” “populist,” or at worst a collection of yobs drunk on lager and grievance. The word “fascist,” we are told, should be reserved for Mussolini’s Blackshirts or Hitler’s stormtroopers, not for a carnival of urine, cocaine and Union Jacks on Whitehall.
As Marxists we reject this comfort. Fascism is not defined by vintage uniforms. It is defined by function: a mass movement, rooted in crisis, that fuses nationalism, conspiracy, racism and violence into a political force capable of disciplining society on behalf of capital. By that definition, 13 September was a fascist movement in motion.
We are beyond creeping fascism. For years the warning signs were flashing: Robinson on YouTube, Farage on the airwaves, dog-whistles in the press, a nod from ministers to “legitimate concerns.” Creeping fascism was the steady drip of poison. But what happened in London was not creeping. It was a march, a roar, a test of strength. 110,000 bodies moved through the capital, a number large enough to terrify, to surround counter-protesters, to injure 26 police officers, and to force the Met into kettling anti-fascists for their own protection.
Call that “right-wing populism” if you like. But populism does not chant for parliament to be dissolved. Populism does not print placards about a “rape jihad” or “Labour grooming gangs.” Populism does not cheer a billionaire who beams in to say “fight back or die” and calls the left “the party of murder.” Populism does not call for the murder of the Prime Minister. That is not populism. That is fascism rehearsing its future.
Nor does it matter that many in the crowd were not ideologues. Fascist movements have never depended on ideological purity. The SA in Germany drew brawlers, unemployed men, veterans, small businessmen, the embittered and the alienated. Some came for antisemitism, others for the fatherland, others for the chance to feel part of something bigger than themselves. The coherence came later, in the fusion, the mobilisation, the turning of diverse resentments into a single weapon. That is what Robinson offers.
The political wing in formation
The stage on Whitehall was not just a soapbox for grifters. It has the embryo of a political wing. Alongside Robinson stood Ben Habib, a former deputy leader of Reform UK, launching a new party to the right of Reform called Advance UK. Robinson has already pledged himself to it. On the same platform appeared European far-right figures — Éric Zemmour from France, parliamentarians from Denmark and Germany — giving the movement international ballast. Over it all loomed Elon Musk, beamed in by video, lending the billionaire’s seal of approval.
This is how fascist movements evolve: the street discovers its voice, the party offers it a ballot paper, and capital nods along. The Robinson march was not just a drunken parade but a show of numbers, a signal to potential backers that the raw material exists for a new political project. The transition from mob to movement to party is underway.
A movement rooted in crisis — and resentment
Fascism is born of crisis, but its lifeblood is resentment. In Britain today that resentment is focused on migrants. The story writes itself in the tabloids: “they” are housed in hotels while “you” are left on the waiting list; “they” are cared for while “you” are abandoned. Never mind that the hotels are often crumbling, the food inedible, the conditions humiliating. What matters is the image. A visible sign that somebody else is getting what you are denied.
This is not about truth but about affect. The resentment is cultivated, drip-fed through headlines and social feeds until it curdles into rage. It is why a crowd that reeks of booze and cocaine can convince itself it is fighting for decency and common sense. It is why Robinson’s conspiracies land: they give resentment a face.
The politics of resentment is useful to capital because it diverts anger away from the landlords, the profiteers, the corporations bleeding services dry. Instead of blaming those who actually own and hoard, people are invited to hate the asylum seeker in a Britannia Inn. Fascism thrives on this displacement.
But weren’t bigger marches ignored?
The objection is obvious: larger crowds have marched in London and nothing came of it. Anti-Brexit marches drew 700,000. Gaza protests reached 300,000. Millions opposed the Iraq War. The state ignored them all. Why should 110,000 Robinson supporters be treated as the end of democracy?
Because it is not just about size; it is about character and reception. Anti-war and anti-Brexit marches were vast but peaceful, demanding policy change. Gaza marches were about solidarity, calling for an end to genocide and war crimes. Robinson’s march was different: it was a mobilisation around conspiracy and scapegoating, staged to menace minorities, backed by open calls for violence, and treated by government ministers as a “klaxon call” rather than a threat.
That is the point. The establishment can ignore millions marching for peace, but it indulges a hundred thousand marching for fascism. The Iraq War marchers were met with contempt; Robinson’s mob are met with triangulation. Gaza protesters were smeared as extremists; Robinson’s crowd are described as “protesters” and their leader granted column inches in the right wing press. That difference in reception tells us where the danger lies.
The word “fascist” matters here not as an insult but as an analysis. To call 13 September merely “right-wing” is to misdiagnose the threat. To call it “populist” is to flatter it as democracy’s unruly cousin. Fascism is something else: it grows in the vacuum left by parliamentary cowardice, it feeds on the headlines of a complicit press, it recruits through grievance and spectacle, and it organises itself through violence.
The point is not that every marcher is a fascist. The point is that they marched as part of a fascist movement. A movement with leaders, symbols, slogans, international connections, and now a proof of numbers. To call it anything less is to lie to ourselves.
We must be blunt: this is no longer about whether Britain can “go fascist.” The fact of 13 September proves that it can. The only question is whether it will be stopped.
