Antifascist Art Therapy

“Everything Hitler did in Germany was legal.” I stared at these words on a wheat-pasted poster accompanied by a stenciled portrait of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. who wrote them in his 1963 Letter from Birmingham Jail. The Washington, DC–based street artist, who goes by the moniker Absurdly Well, generally illustrates modern politicians and leaders. At this moment in July 2022, though, he offered a historic reference as a contemporary warning.

There has been a notable global rise of authoritarian trends—even among democratic societies (Freedom House, 2021). Foreboding signs include voter suppression and election manipulation; disinformation promotions and independent press reductions; populist assertions and migrant castigations; subgroup accusations and economic destitutions; queer defamations and judiciary deprivations; free speech limitations and political opposition eliminations; labor union restraints and civil society constraints. The arts are often casualties, simultaneously censored and refashioned into propaganda under the guise of alternative perspectives (Batycka, 2021). Gesson (2020) posited that people tend to disregard alarms that are deemed passé:

[T]hey are not the monsters of our collective imagination. They are today’s flesh-and-blood monsters, and this makes them seem somehow less monstrous. Time itself is complicit. Anything that happens here and now is normalized, not solely through the moral failures of contemporaries but simply by virtue of actually existing. (pp. 199–200)

This inability to fathom present malevolence has been documented by historian Snyder (2017, 2018) as a product of two false belief systems. The politics of inevitability upholds that progress is irrevocable. In contrast, politics of eternity espouses that hazards are everlasting, which requires a vigilant strongman. Once a populace relies on autocrats who tell them what they want to hear while casting blame on some marginalized others, then the greatest governance peril emerges—fascism—when totalitarianism is infused with nationalism, eugenics, and supremacy that is maintained by state-sanctioned violence. Snyder (2018) surmised the remedy for both positions is historical awareness—democratic sustainability is not a guarantee and targeted dangers are convenient scapegoats to consolidate power. Therefore:

If we see history as it is, we see our places in it, what we might change, and how we might do better. We halt our thoughtless journey from inevitability to eternity, and exit the road to unfreedom. We begin a politics of responsibility. (p. 281)

In a similar call for a conscientious citizenry, Gesson (2020) posed, “will we commit ourselves to reinvention?” (p. 233).

Just as bygone warnings can inform present resemblances, past antidotes can be revitalized for current menaces. Antifascism is a social movement that combines preservation of individual self-rule with fierce commitment to equality. It emerged in the early 1900s to counter racism, antisemitism, colonialism, and xenophobia by championing a people-centered political system that is pro-equality, pro-liberation, pro-transformation, and pro-autonomy. This movement and its derivative nickname antifa have been appropriated by the political right as bogeymen and on the political left as extremists. Misnomers aside, Bray (2017) insisted for “everyday anti-fascism, [because] we must bear to mind that the fascist regimes of the past could not have survived without a broad layer of public support” (p. 203). Mental health professionals have much to offer for assessing root causes and preventing threats to democracy (Jackson & Hinsz, 2022). Some ideas for art therapists to integrate everyday antifascism in their work are contained in the 1930s Iron Front logo of three arrows that represent “unity, activity, discipline” (Bray, 2017, p. 24).

Per unity, antifascism arises to combat discrimination based on several identity factors. Coercions against one are not viewed in isolation but symptoms of a supremacist ideology. In describing antifascist feminism, Lee (2019) identified antifascist feminism to counter sexism and misogyny along with interventions “concerned with commitment, collectivity, and effectiveness” (p. 41). Everyday antifascism broadens perspectives on discrimination against any group as curtailments of general political power. Art therapists can challenge concurrent influences—interpersonal, institutional, societal—against specific groups while also championing equitable policies for all.

Per activity, antifascists disrupt fascism, whether full-blown or in a nascent form. They engage in organizing and protesting but also more confrontational activities to halt messages (referred to as deplatforming). One of the more controversial aspects is a refusal to commit to nonviolence, although reliance on violence is rare and only strategically deployed (Bray, 2017). Artists dissent through depictions of satires and testimonials as well as future devastations and imagined alternatives (Cichocki et al., 2019). An everyday antifascism practice challenges injustice in the manner most suited given one’s situation, ability, and safety. Art therapists can promote clients’ choice-making while countering oppressive activities.

Per discipline, antifascism embodies outlooks necessary in pluralistic societies. Two of the activists Bray (2017) interviewed reinforce this point. M from Poland proposed, “Antifa is a state of mind, a way of reflecting and critical thinking (also about ourselves), not about black clothes and martial arts” (p. 221). Similarly, Daniel from Spain offered, “Keep an open mind about different opinions and don’t try to impose your opinion … create together through consensus.” Art scholars Gogarty, Dimitrakaki, and Vishmidt (2019) translated such notions into an antifascist art theory “that is capable of consistently unsettling the subject in some way, or at least the subject’s convictions … as we support its development and growth” (p. 457). In everyday antifascism, curiosity is paramount. Art therapists can maintain an inquisitive and critical outlook regarding intersections among client circumstances, agency regulations, educational pedagogy, and social policies.

It is risky to combat authoritarianism in any of its incarnations—governmental, occupational, educational, or relational. That might be why guarding and maintaining universal voice, participation, and egalitarianism can feel overwhelming. Everyday antifascism replaces doubt with assurance. When creatively combined, attentiveness, action, and critique offer significant tactics for art therapists to preserve free societies.

In This Issue

I sometimes wonder what role a peer-reviewed journal can take in defending against authoritarianism. Two of Snyder’s (2017) strategies stood out to me: believe in truth, discern “between what you want to hear and what is actually the case” (p. 66), and investigate, “Figure things out for yourself. Spend more time” (p. 72). In other words, invest in the challenging work of questioning. In that light, this issue calls readers to confront assumptions. As a metaphorical frame, Lora McNeil’s cover art introduces how a messy process can yield important and unexpected results.

Several research studies question presumptions that have operated in art therapy to arrive at answers that seem to upend conceptions but actually strengthen the profession. Two articles challenge mandala making, which has long been associated with anxiety reduction. Siri Jakobsson Støre and Niklas Jakobsson’s study uncovered the values of both structured mandala making and free drawing. Ashley Hartman and C. Estelle Campenni discovered the impact of art material selection and directions. From a focus on art therapy as a psychological intervention to one that is also a physical one, Noah Hass-Cohen, Rebecca Bokoch, Katherine Goodman, and Julia McAnuff identified evidence to bolster claims that art therapy offers a crucial means to pain reduction. To support art therapy for healthy aging, Eileen Misluk-Gervase and Haley Rush identified overlooked areas of leisure and learning to augment a purely emotional approach to art therapy. In the interest of revisiting history, Lisa Hinz, Megan VanMeter, and Vija Lusebrink (posthumous) clarify ideas and origins of the Expressive Therapies Continuum, which is especially timely given Lusebrink’s death prior to this work’s publication. To reinforce how the assembled contributions strengthen by tearing down established notions, Mindy Jacobson-Levy and Gretchen Miller offer a model of altered bookmaking to indicate the roles of destruction and transformation as necessary creative forces in the service of renewal.