Fighting Fascism Through Solidarity

In addition to everything else this workshop represented, it was also an example of solidarity-based action. We learned a practice, based in the assumption of shared fate, that our own bodily autonomy cannot be separated from the autonomy of others and therefore we need to work together to protect basic self-determination. The ideas of shared fate and shared responsibility lie at the core of solidarity, and present a fundamental challenge to fascism’s emphasis on enemies, on scapegoating the vulnerable for society’s ills and convincing followers that they will be safe from the violence inflicted on others.

In the United States, the word ​“solidarity” has long been associated with labor organizing, but more generally it refers to unity and a sense of common destiny, as expressed in the slogan of a union founded by socialists, the IWW, ​“an injury to one is an injury to all.” In its early use within labor organizing, solidarity was about shared struggle among industrial workers, but more recently it has been used to recognize interconnection across difference. 

For example, in 2011, Occupy Wall Street invoked cross-class solidarity among the 99% in opposition to policies that favor the wealthiest 1% of society. Both the first and second waves of Black Lives Matter organizing — in 2013 after the murder of Trayvon Martin and again in 2020 in response to the murder of George Floyd — called for interracial solidarity to challenge racist brutality. The Palestine Solidarity movement, as its name suggests, expands the call to the international level, uniting activists across borders and continents to support the human rights of a globally marginalized population.

Loosely speaking, actions based in solidarity involve standing with others in the face of oppression, understanding it as a threat to everyone regardless of who is the immediate target, and sharing resources or practical assistance with those most affected. Examples include union strike funds that pool resources to get through an extended work stoppage, the mutual aid groups that emerged during the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, or, less personally, boycotts and divestment. The public health strategy of calling for everyone to stay home before vaccines were available for COVID-19 also reflected a solidarity-based understanding of society, which helps explain why it became a focal point for right-wing outrage.

Solidarity-based abortion activism takes multiple forms, all of which involve active support for someone who is seeking an abortion in ways that fully respect their autonomy. In the 21^st century, abortion funds are probably the most visible and longstanding form of solidarity-based abortion work in the United States, offering diverse forms of support that can include driving someone significant distances or providing childcare or a couch to sleep on, as well as financial assistance with hotels, other travel expenses and the abortion itself. The model used by abortion funds draws more on the principles of mutual aid than charity, centering horizontal relationships and mutual respect, locating the work in the realm of solidarity more than service.

Feminist networks that support and enable self-managed medication abortions are another form of solidarity-based abortion activism that has long existed across the Global South, and one which has been increasingly important in the United States since the 2022 Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization decision. While it’s difficult to measure something that takes place outside of institutional systems, self-managed medication abortion appears to have increased significantly since Dobbs, especially among those facing significant barriers to care and even more so if telehealth is included. People who self-managed an abortion in the six months following Dobbs were more likely to report getting pills through community networks — including grassroots collectives, abortion providers working outside formal medical systems and people trained through Zoom workshops like the one I joined — than through telehealth or online vendors. That in itself provides statistical evidence of the importance of solidarity-based abortion activism.

These actions directly undermine the dynamics of fascism, including the manifestation we know as the Trump administration, in multiple ways. The scapegoating and dehumanization exemplified by the Trump administration’s relentless legal and social assaults on immigrants, are essential elements of fascist authoritarianism, as is enforcement of traditional binary gender structures. Attacking the rights of women and LGBTQ+ people has been central to the MAGA agenda, as can be seen in abortion bans, restrictions on access to care and legal recognition for transgender people and the policy plans in Project 2025 that guide the Trump administration’s destruction of public health, social services, and civil rights. When routine abortions or care for transgender youth become criminal events — as they now have in almost half the country — and masked agents raid workplaces and seize people at immigration courts, then the act of standing together becomes a profound affirmation of shared humanity.

Solidarity-based actions undermine each of those essential elements of fascism, not least by enabling self-determination for those who have been classified as unworthy or dangerous. The criminalization and scapegoating of marginalized populations and people in marginalized situations require isolation, dehumanization and fear in order to function; when autonomy and self-determination are regained through collective action, this intrinsically challenges the power and authority of fascist systems.

The criminalization of human beings and ordinary life situations — abortions, medical care, court hearings — transforms neighbors and coworkers into strangers and potential threats to society. These forms of repression locate ordinary people as guilty — ​“the worst of the worst” in Trump’s words — and as enemies who deserve to be abused rather than ordinary people who deserve respect. 

Solidarity-based actions destabilize those processes through affirming connection and shared fate across difference in the face of assault from the state. Holding that ​“a threat to one is a threat to all” directly contradicts the divisions, fear and scapegoating at the heart of Trump and other fascist regimes.

The power of solidarity-based activism can be seen in the measures taken to repress and prevent it. States have criminalized practical support for people who need abortions or for trans youth, even trying to prosecute parents who support their trans children as child abusers. When a wave of ICE raids in Los Angeles was met this June with sustained community resistance, the Trump administration responded by mobilizing the National Guard and Marines to ​“protect” ICE agents. The relentless repression of Students for Justice in Palestine — including by the Trump administration, which used crackdowns on student protesters as a tool for attacking universities — highlights the powerful challenge that international solidarity with Palestine poses to a politics built on casting entire populations as threats. 

The underlying power of solidarity comes precisely from centering interconnection over division, cooperation over competition and a commitment to our common humanity over fear. Movements built on solidarity envision social systems anchored in the core understanding that we have a shared fate, that our ability to thrive is interdependent. 

This is why it has the power to fundamentally disrupt systems based in fear, isolation and scapegoating, and rooted in models of competition and scarcity. The far Right and the 1% understand that solidarity is a fundamental threat to their regime and way of life; it’s time for the rest of us to recognize the same — and mobilize our shared power.