In the year marking the eightieth anniversary of the end of World War II, we are witnessing a new surge of hate speech, both in the domestic politics of nation-states and in international policies. Liberal democracies, in a state of collapse, are shaped by identities (race, nation, gender) that feel threatened in times of crisis, alongside a simultaneous push for a strong state imposing order and censorship. This dynamic unites movements traditionally seen as opposites—conservatives and progressives—under the same logic of reinforcing a reactionary politics.

The term woke gained popularity in the United States as a synonym for liberal policies advocating legitimate causes such as racial and social equality, feminism, LGBTQIA+ rights, environmental activism, and more. As these causes become targets of far-right criticism, accused of fostering “cancel culture” and control, many of the same mechanisms have been repurposed to strengthen a sectarian and moralistic identity politics.

In her latest book, Left is Not Woke, philosopher Susan Neiman argues that wokeism also contributes to this reactionary shift, as it conflicts with fundamental principles that have guided the left for centuries: a commitment to universalism, an objective distinction between justice and power, and a belief in the possibility of progress. Without these ideas, Neiman warns, woke activists will continue to undermine their own path and, even unintentionally, drift toward the right—risking becoming what they despise.

The elections in Germany illustrate how representation without political and class consciousness can serve dubious political ends. The far-right leader Alice Weidel, for example, is married to a foreign woman yet claims to defend LGBTQIA+ and women’s rights against immigrants. Similarly, Israel’s LGBTQ+ colonialism presents another example of this paradox.

Although these phenomena may seem contradictory at first glance, history shows that identity and nationalistic claims have often been the foundation of reactionary politics, even in different contexts. While  these progressive movements have played a crucial role in various emancipatory struggles, in times of crisis, they also hold the potential to become reactionary.

When the self-proclaimed Identitarian Movement gained traction in France in the 1970s, it was, in reality, a revival of 1930s fascism. From the outset, intellectual leaders of the new right incorporated environmental and indigenous issues—for instance, Alain de Benoist’s letters to Native American leaders, in which he saw them as identitarian allies against American liberal hegemony.

Nonetheless, this post-war revanchist new right differs from traditional fascism in its emphasis on defending identities—particularly the nation—as being in decline. Historian Eric Hobsbawm contrasts this with the original nationalist movements, which emerged as progressive struggles for national emancipation following the dismantling of empires. Those movements were based on linguistic emancipation, popular sovereignty, democracy, and the public sphere—they were driven by an ascending national bourgeoisie. But as this bourgeoisie declined, nationalism reemerged in a paranoid form, clinging to the repressive institutions of the state and moralism.

This is reflected in discourses like: “We must defend our borders, teach moral and civic education, prevent immigrants from invading us with their crimes.” The nation-state, in this sense, becomes the last refuge of what is mine: “This is my country, my language, my customs.” But it is also my misery, my suffocation.

According to Brazilian philosopher Vladimir Safatle, in his book Circuito dos Afetos, fascism is always based on the displacement of popular power in favor of an outlaw leadership. It is the colonization of anti-institutional desire by the order itself. The alienation of progressive politics and their reduction to identity-based struggles—lacking universalism and effectiveness—have enabled fascism to appropriate the legitimate critique of institutional failures and transform it into a call for strongman rule. This is embodied in leaders who appear above the law, who speak without accountability, who openly express their worst sentiments without concern for consequences.

Ironically, a similar critique is emerging towards movements that, until recently, were part of emancipatory struggles. Some of their leaders, while questioning the legitimacy and efficacy of institutions, simultaneously cling to the state apparatus, censorship, security policies, and criminalization—promoting public, social media, and real-world lynchings. The populist right, which fights against “political correctness,” is therefore a mirror of what some still consider “the left.”

It is crucial to emphasize that the failure of certain strands of woke “progressivism” cannot be countered by adopting right-wing rhetoric on ethical and identity issues, as seen with Sahra Wagenknecht’s BSW party in Germany. The only way to challenge this discourse is to call it what it is: identity-based politics have the potential to become conservative and reactionary. There is an urgent need to present an emancipatory, materialist, and universalist political alternative.

As a racialized woman from a precarious working-class immigrant background, feminism and anti-racism were natural paths for survival. But these struggles only make sense within the broader defense of socialism. For a world, as Rosa Luxemburg envisioned, where we are socially equal, humanly different, and totally free.

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