Your front lawn is probably fascist

And it just might be that you like it that way.

Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

First, a word. There was a gap there for a while; one might even say I was AWOL for a bit. But things are rolling along again. And I’d like to ask a favor. If you like what you’re reading here, please let people know. If you think it’s interesting and maybe even thought-provoking, please share what I’m doing here. There’s to be lots more. I won’t pretend I expect or hope to be everyone’s cup of tea, but I hope to help visitors/readers see the world and us in it in ways that enlighten our minds, deepen our connections with things that are good, aid in efforts to hold evil at bay, and invigorate our being, our joie de vivre.

For a while there, the words fascism/fascist together were a critique du jour. City not allowing spontaneous protests to block a downtown street? It’s fascism. Don’t like how the local authorities won’t allow women to sunbathe topless at the local pool? Deem them fascist. Letter grades in school? Fascist. Standardized tests? Fascist. Property taxes, no-smoking laws, curfews, no-parking zones, and long lines for the restroom at concerts? Fascist, fascist, fascist. All fascist. I think the tide might be receding at the moment, but, just as is true of the tide, the use of the word fascism (or fascist) as a cheap-and-easy go-to insult will return. Way back in ‘72, The New Yorker movie critic Pauline Kael called Clint Eastwood’s film Dirty Harry “fascist medievalism”. Kevin Costner’s character in Bull Durham (1988) tells us “Strikeouts are fascist”. In 2012’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower, we’re reminded of the high school experience of “surviving your fascist shop teacher”. It seems pretty clear that we haven’t seen the end of the f-word in its use as an all-purpose insult, suitable for the unhappy juvenile, the half-educated minor-league philosopher, the hoity-toity critic, and pretty much anyone who just wants to give someone a nice verbal slap without having to think too hard about the specifics.

Which brings to mind some thoughts on the matter from a man called Orwell:

I have heard [the word fascist, or fascism] applied to farmers, shopkeepers, Social Credit, corporal punishment, fox-hunting, bull-fighting, the 1922 Committee, the 1941 Committee, Kipling, Gandhi, Chiang Kai-Shek, homosexuality, Priestley’s broadcasts, Youth Hostels, astrology, women, dogs and I do not know what else.

This is not a new concern. It nonetheless occasionally behooves us, however, to recall that the word was produced with intended effect—that is, a meaning. That meaning, now as ever somewhat hard to pin down, still has some utility. TIME magazine published one of the less objectionable primers on the topic in 2019¹, authored by Olivia Waxman and featuring scholarly input from NYU’s Ruth Ben-Ghiat, Professor of History and Italian Studies. Per her faculty page on NYU’s website, “[Ben-Ghiat] writes about fascism, authoritarianism, propaganda, and the threats these present to democracies around the world”. She is the author of Strongmen: From Mussolini to the Present (2020), and, more recently, was an advisor to the House Select Jan. 6 Committee, as well as being an advisor to Guillermo del Toro in his film adaptation of Pinocchio, notably “set in Fascist Italy”. Hey, if she’s good enough to advise Guillermo del Toro about Fascism as it relates to movies about wooden puppets, she’s good enough for us, right?

So, with the table set, here’s the definition of fascism (rather qualified from Orwell’s thoughts above) proffered by Ben-Ghiat and Waxman: “a movement that promotes the idea of a forcibly monolithic, regimented nation under the control of an autocratic ruler”. The name was taken from the Italian fascio (English bundle), in turn coming from the Latin fasces, which was a bundle of sticks—wooden rods, really, often of birch or other tough, flexible wood—wrapped together with an axe. The object itself is thought to date back to the Etruscans; in that civilization and its follower on the peninsula, the Roman republic and subsequent empire, and onward, it represented the authority of the king/emperor/ruler to administer discipline and punishment. The rods themselves could be used for whippings/beating, and the axe to administer capital punishment in its particular, old-fashioned way. It is sometimes said that the bundle of sticks, in particular with regards to fascism of the Mussolini subspecies, was to display/remind one of the relative strength of many weak individuals bound together as one much stronger entity. This played into what Ben-Ghiat emphasizes as “nation over class”—and, I’ll add, nation over the individual. All citizens were to be subsumed into the nation, and led by a dominant cult-figure. For the cult figure to pose for photographs shirtless in a snow-covered forest scene, jaunty atop his skis, like Mussolini did, was optional. Non-citizens? If they marched to the beat of the drums, they might be tolerated. Might be. Don’t count on it. All for the state, nothing outside the state. Amen.

Speaking of going topless: Benito Mussolini, shirtless and jaunty atop his—wait a minute, where are his skis? Aside: I find this image consistently brings to mind C. S. Lewis’ commentary about ‘Men without chests’. Can’t imagine why.

This is the crux of fascism. What was not optional was submission to the state—which in effect, of course, meant submission to the dictator in power, who would lead the ever-stronger state to ever-greater glory. Anyone and anything that stood in the way or simply stood out as too individualistic (which could be interpreted as a potential threat to the ruler) was to be beaten down or eliminated. Mussolini, who became Italian Prime Minister in 1922, was the progenitor of twentieth-century fascism, and the foremost model from which Hitler and his cabal formed the Nazi version. The attractions of an authoritarian dictator organizing things, running the rabble out of town, getting the trains to run on time, and making it safe for the kids to play in the park should not be underestimated. That it tends to handcuff personal liberties, throw a wet blanket over creativity, and foment racial and ethnic divides and hatreds is, to some, a set of minor inconveniences—“We’ve got what we want, and we never liked their kind anyway.”

Now I can just about see the thought bubble over some readers’ heads: “Yeah, yeah, whatever. There were claims made about my lawn being fascist. C’mon. I’ve got mowing to do.”

This prompts the necessary segue to the American upper- and middle-class obsession with lawns. The history of the American lawn is an oft-told tale of precious little subtance. The New York Times did a (glib and superficial) little video documentary of the history of lawns a few years ago. In it we learned that the lawn was introduced to America by the rich, emulating the immaculate lawns of Europe and especially England. With much of the work frequently done by slaves, of course. We also learn that the Bluegrass State chose as its nickname the moniker of a grass not at all native to North America: the fabled Kentucky Bluegrass came from Europe and North Africa. Also mentioned are the ecological costs of lawns: we Americans expend tremendous amounts of money, water, energy, pesticides, and attention on lawns. What do those who play the lawn-production-and-care game aim for? The goal, almost without exception, is to have a smooth, thick, cushiony green carpet, nearly always of a species of grass imported from abroad for the singular purpose, and as close to barren of ecological value and as unwelcoming to native species as it can be. Oh, sure, there are the ‘pests’, generally insects and, occasionally, other arthropods, worms, etc. that plague Seekers of the Perfect Lawn, but as for playing host to the plants and animals that formerly abided wherever the intensely cultivated lawn is taking up residence? Not so much. Example: The large majority of native bees, including most all bumblebees, nest in cavities in, on, or near the ground. Queen bumblebees overwinter in underground burrows, and very often manage their broods underground come spring and summer. It takes very little effort to imagine the effects of pesticides poured over lawns in the course of their care on the bees, butterflies, and other little creatures that are trying to make a go of it in an ever-more-hostile environment. The pesticides that kill the grubs, mosquitoes, ticks, and fleas typically also kill the bees². And lots more.

And we’ve only hinted at the fascist part, though it’s sitting in plain sight. First up, the lawn-keeper. The successful American lawn-keeper is a strict authoritarian. The goal requires it, that goal of course being that thick, soft, smooth, lush green expanse filling the front yard and turning it into one of the millions of versions of “The Envy of the Neighborhood”. The lawn-keeper wants every blade of grass the same particular shade of green. It must be uniformly mowed to the desired, carefully chosen, most suitable height, and carefully trimmed around edges and borders and trees to give a sharp demarcation between lawn and drive, lawn and sidewalk, lawn and garden bed, etc. The objective is to beautify by extreme artifice, and demonstrate control, with the control implying power, money, and authority over one’s domain. The lawn-keeper’s goal is a uniform entity; any plant not of the proper sort, or not taking well to subjugation and the management of the lawn-keeper, must be eliminated. This is a necessity imposed by the goal of the Perfect Lawn. That ‘weeds’ must be eliminated is mere tautology. Whether it be a dandelion or a sprig of clover or some other violator of the monoculture objective, it must go. The lawn-keeper’s regime is maintained by regular violence, strict enforcement of codes, culling of undesirables. Costs be damned. It’s all about the State of the Lawn. And it’s fascist. At least to whatever extent such a concept can be applied to the matter at hand, and the yard at our feet.

The result is pleasant, pretty, even occasionally beautiful. An immaculate lawn complemented by beautiful bushes, trees, flowers, and an attractive house is a nice thing to look at. But is the fascist nature of the production and maintenance of the lawn somehow made acceptable because it looks nice? If the trains don’t just run on time but are clean and safe, and the conductors and personnel exceedingly pleasant, and the city park is beautiful, and there’s a great view of the azure water off a sun-kissed coast, is Mussolini less fascist than he is as a leader of the Blackshirts?

If we like something and think it’s pretty, does that in some meaningful way excuse or at least ameliorate the sins committed in producing it? Maybe it’s an inconvenient time to bring this up. There certainly are just so many other things to be concerned about. What did Trump declare on Truth Social this morning? Are the Israelis really going to invade Rafah? Did you hear that the war in Sudan is still going on? Are we finally tiring of that sordid affair in Ukraine? There was just the other day a massive tornado in Nebraska—yes, I know it’s Nebraska, but still, it was a really massive tornado. Knocked down a bunch of expensive homes, and a silo, too, I heard, whatever that is. And shouldn’t we really be talking about the election? Don’t you think Biden has just been super-feisty lately, and isn’t it lovely? I hear the Chinese have done something horrid again. Maybe it was to do with the Uyghurs? Didn’t you just get back from Coachella? What should we do about the border? What do you think about the Falcons drafting Penix? Shouldn’t Kirk Cousins be worried? And can you flag down the waitstaff for me?—This flat white doesn’t taste like it’s made from properly roasted organic beans.

Just given the near-ubiquity of the American lawn everywhere there aren’t major water restrictions due to there just not being enough water for all the uses/needs people clamor to be filled, if you’ve got a front yard, it’s probably something like that we see throughout American suburbs, shining green from sea to sea. You like it, your neighbors like it, and have one of their own, etc., etc. If I drove by, I’d probably think it’s nice, too.

But it’s also a part of an ongoing massive insult to ecology and the natural world, from which we seem to be constantly seeking divorce. A small part, to be sure—no one lawn is really that big a deal. But let’s be clear: it’s a bigger deal than the soda straw Jennifer refused at Mickey D’s because of, like, polluting the ocean and all. And combined with hundreds, thousands, nay millions of others? En toto, it’s a big deal. And it’s fascist, at least as the concept applies to decisions about what to do with that space in front of the house. Maybe we like a little fascism now and again, though. C’est notre vie, one might say, ordonnée et agréable. We like a little order in our lives. Especially if it helps keep home property values up.

Maybe someday “Oh, that’s so fascist,” will be a compliment?

1. Waxman, Olivia, What to Know About the Origins of Fascism’s Brutal Ideology, TIME, published online March 22, 2019.

2. The most common insecticides used in management of lawn pests are pyrethroids. The first thing most lawn care company representatives tell customers is that pyrethroids are synthetic derivatives of a natural chemical compound produced by chrysanthemums, called pyrethrin. “They’re naturally derived! And they’re safe for pets and kids as well as your lawn, trees, and shrubs!” Another common tactic used is the claim that their efforts ‘target’ mosquitoes, ticks, grubs, or whatever. That such a contention is more than a little like saying that the use of napalm in the jungles of Vietnam ‘targeted’ vegetation. Napalm, for those unaware of the nature of the beast, is essentially a fuel gel ejected and ignited by bombs, flamethrowers, and the like to destroy vegetative cover used by the enemy, enemy hideouts, and, of course, actual humans thought to be the enemy. Oh, sure, there were ‘targets’, but there’s no getting around the rather indiscriminate nature of the death-dealing going on. Synthetic pyrethroids, of which there are now well over a thousand, have been derived by companies and labs small and large since allethrin, the first pyrethroid, was invented and patented in 1949, by the U. S. Department of Agriculture. Allethrins (the class of pyrethroids very similar in structure to the original chemical) are still used today as pesticides. Not surprisingly, many of the corporate efforts to invent ‘new and improved’ pyrethroids have focused on making them more lethal, controlling the ‘spectrum’ of creatures killed by the compound, adjusting persistence in the environment so as to make the chemical relatively short-lived (ahem) or long-lasting, simplifying or making easier or cheaper storage and application processes, and other things that can relate back to improvements of corporate profit margins. Most commercially important pyrethroids remain very broad-spectrum, however. Meaning they kill a high proportion of the creepy-crawler critters called arthropods, insects, ‘bugs’, etc. Oh, and about that ‘safe for kids and pets’ claim, a few things to know. First of all, if your pet is a fish, amphibian, or reptile, it’s important to know that these classes of organism, especially the aquatic animals, are much more susceptible to toxicity from pyrethroids than are most mammals and birds. An important exception to the mammal claim about toxicity, though, is cats—pyrethroids are much more toxic to felines than dogs—not so much as are arthropods, but cats can become quite ill and occasionally die from pyrethroid exposures. And here’s the thing to remember even with regards to the putative lack of toxicity in humans: it’s not that pyrethroids are completely safe for dogs, David, and Danielle. There’s an old saying amongst toxicologists: Dose makes the poison. This adage is often attributed to Paracelsus, but the idea approaches common sense: too much of anything is bad. When it comes to insecticides, it only takes a tiny amount to kill roaches and spiders and fleas and ticks. Only modestly more to finish off a fish. A higher dose yet to do in a snake, and much more still to whack a mole or cousin Willie. But toxicity in humans certainly isn’t unheard of through either large single or multiple, often chronic, smaller exposures.