What Is HomoFascism?

by Zoltanous

Introduction

The role of Eros in fascist ideology reveals a profound tension between radical visions of social bonding and the authoritarian conformity that defined the Nazi regime. Rooted in ancient Greek philosophy, Eros transcends mere romantic or sexual desire, embodying a dynamic force that fosters intense interpersonal connections, communal virtue, and societal cohesion. Within fascism, this concept was both celebrated and suppressed, creating a fault line that challenges historians and political theorists alike.

French philosopher Georges Bataille argued that fascism lacked a true erotic dimension, viewing it as a sterile ideology of discipline and control, though it appropriated heterogeneous elements like sovereignty and violence to maintain power. This perspective aligns with Heinrich Himmler’s purge of Sturmabteilung (SA) leaders during the 1934 Night of The Long Knives, targeting figures like Ernst Röhm, Edmund Heines, and Karl Ernst, who embodied elements of Eros through their promotion of male camaraderie inspired by ancient Greek models. Their elimination marked a shift toward a more rigid, family-centric ideology, yet their ideas left a lasting imprint on non-Hitlerite strains of national socialism, complicating the narrative of a unified fascist doctrine.

This divide resonates among Third Positionists, who often struggle to assess Eros’s relevance to their ideology. Many dismiss it as marginal, citing Ernst Röhm’s execution as evidence of its incompatibility with fascism, but this overlooks the enduring influence of these ideas, rooted in German Romanticism and neo-Hellenic thought. The reluctance to engage with Eros has bred confusion about the SA’s early ideology and the journal Der Eigene, which promoted these concepts under editor Adolf Brand, hindering a comprehensive grasp of fascism’s intellectual origins. This avoidance may stem from intellectual caution or a deliberate rejection of historical complexities that challenge ideological purity.

For Christian conservatives in these circles, Eros clashes with their emphasis on sexual morality and traditional family structures, often leading to outright dismissal. In contrast, Traditionalists — drawing on Julius Evola’s adaptation of Hans Blüher’s Männerbund concept—view Eros as a foundation for elite, warrior-driven societies. Progressives might find it intriguing, as it questions normative sexual ethics and could support broader acceptance of diverse identities, though such perspectives remain peripheral in nationalist discourse.

The significance of Eros in fascism lies in its exposure of the movement’s internal contradictions. Early SA leaders envisioned a revolutionary social order based on the Männerbund — male-only societies rooted in loyalty and sacrifice — rejecting the bourgeois domesticity they despised. This vision conflicted with the Nazi regime’s later focus on moral purity and reproductive imperatives, which prioritized traditional family units. The purge of Röhm and his allies was not solely about personal behavior but a strategic move to align fascism with conservative elites and military interests, using moral rhetoric to mask political motives.

This tension informs modern debates, where Third Positionists grapple with whether to embrace Eros as a radical legacy or reject it as a deviation. This analysis is a historical inquiry, not an endorsement, aiming to illuminate how Eros shaped specific currents of German nationalism, particularly those distinct from Hitlerism. By exploring these dynamics, we gain deeper insight into the ideological battles that defined fascism and their echoes today.

Eros: In Ancient and Modern Thought

In ancient Greek culture, Eros was a profound force, far beyond mere romantic love, shaping individual desire, societal virtue, and communal bonds. Plato’s Symposium offers a rich exploration of this concept, presenting Eros as both a deity and a principle that drives passion while fostering moral and civic ideals. Unlike modern conceptions of love, which often prioritize personal fulfillment, Greek Eros operated on a grand scale, influencing personal relationships, political structures, and cultural practices. The Symposium portrays Eros as a primordial entity, emerging after Chaos alongside Earth, without parents, symbolizing its eternal significance. This cosmic role underscores Eros’s capacity to transcend individual experience, weaving together the personal and the political in a way that resonated with later ideological movements, including fascism.

Phaedrus opens the Symposium by emphasizing Eros’s antiquity and societal value:

“'For he is the eldest of the gods, which is an honor to him; and a proof of his claim to this honor is, that of his parents there is no memorial; neither poet nor prose-writer has ever affirmed that he had any. As Hesiod says, ‘First Chaos came, and then broad-bosomed Earth, the everlasting seat of all that is, and Eros.’”

— Plato, Symposium

He further elaborates, citing poetic consensus to affirm Eros’s foundational role:

“In other words, after Chaos, the Earth and Eros, these two, came into being. Also Parmenides sings of Generation, ‘First in the train of gods, he fashioned Eros.’ And Acusilaus agrees with Hesiod. Thus numerous are the witnesses who acknowledge Eros to be the eldest of the gods. And not only is he the eldest, he is also the source of the greatest benefits to us. For I know not any greater blessing to a young man who is beginning life than a virtuous lover, or to the lover than a beloved youth. For the principle which ought to be the guide of men who would nobly live—that principle, I say, neither kindred, nor honor, nor wealth, nor any other motive is able to implant so well as love. Of what am I speaking? Of the sense of honor and dishonor, without which neither states nor individuals ever do any good or great work. And I say that a lover who is detected in doing any dishonorable act, or submitting through cowardice when any dishonor is done to him by another, will be more pained at being detected by his beloved than at being seen by his father, or by his companions, or by any one else. The beloved too, when he is found in any disgraceful situation, has the same feeling about his lover.”

— Plato, Symposium

Phaedrus positions Eros as a civic force, fostering mutual accountability that inspires courage and leadership, even among the timid. However, his view is critiqued for its idealism, as other speakers reveal Eros’s broader dimensions. Pausanias distinguishes between Common Eros, driven by physical lust, and Heavenly Eros, which seeks intellectual and moral bonds with young men of maturing intellect. He emphasizes intent, noting that society tolerates lovers’ eccentricities — public devotion or obsessive gestures — suggesting Eros’s power to stretch ethical boundaries. This duality resonated with fascist thinkers like Hans Blüher, who saw Heavenly Eros as a model for disciplined male bonds.

Eryximachus compares virtuous love to healthy bodily desires, suggesting physicians nurture positive impulses to achieve harmony, paralleling lovers’ cultivation of virtue. Aristophanes offers a mythic narrative of humans split by Zeus from dual forms — male, female, or androgynous — yearning for their other half, with male-male bonds producing bold statesmen. Agathon praises Eros as a youthful god, inspiring arts, peace, and communal rites like feasts and sacrifices. Greek society integrated Eros through *erastes/eromenos* mentorships, where older men guided youths under strict Athenian rules to balance affection and discipline. Festivals like the Dionysia and Panathenaea wove erotic themes into public life, with art and drama celebrating love to strengthen civic ties. Spartan military culture revered male bonds as sacred, fostering loyalty through shared hardship, a practical embodiment of Heavenly Eros. Yet, Greece also feared Eros’s chaotic potential — jealousy and obsession could unravel households — prompting laws to curb seduction and maintain order.

Georges Bataille’s Erotism: Death and Sensuality reinterprets Eros as a pursuit of existential intensity, identifying physical, emotional, and religious dimensions. His concept of homoeroticism — non-sexual bonds like those among warriors — aligns with Heavenly Eros, emphasizing collective strength. This perspective influenced fascist debates, where Blüher, Adolf Brand, and Ernst Röhm embraced Eros as a foundation for social cohesion, drawing on Greek ideals to shape non-Hitlerite national socialism. Himmler’s purges, however, targeted these elements, reinforcing Bataille’s separate claim that fascism lacked Eros. This divide confuses Third Positionists, many of whom dismiss Eros due to Röhm’s fall, ignoring its roots in Blüher’s theories. Christian conservatives reject Eros as incompatible with family-centric morality, while Traditionalists like Julius Evola value its communal power, and progressives might see it as a challenge to rigid norms.

Eros’s influence extended beyond Greece, shaping Stoic self-control, Christian agape, Roman poetry, medieval mysticism, Renaissance Neoplatonism, and Freud’s libido concept. Its versatility — primordial yet adaptable — made it a potent force across cultures, fueling both creation and destruction, a dynamic that fascist thinkers both embraced and contested.

Neo-Hellenism, Masculinism, and The Homoerotic

Ancient societies like the Gauls and Greeks offer contrasting models of intimacy, providing a foundation for understanding fascist interpretations of Eros through neo-Hellenism and masculinism. The Gauls embraced open same-sex practices, while the Greeks institutionalized them through pederasty, reflecting diverse approaches to sexuality that influenced 19th-century Romanticism and fascist ideology. These historical practices, reinterpreted through a modern lens, shaped the Männerbund concept, which figures like Blüher and Röhm used to propose male-centric societies as a counter to bourgeois individualism.

Posidonius documented Gaulish sexual customs, noting their open acceptance of same-sex relationships:

“The Gaulish men prefer to have sex with each other. They often sleep on top of animal skins surrounded by other males and roll around together on the ground. The young men are unconcerned about proper behavior and will offer their bodies to anyone - and they are highly offended when anyone turns them down.”

— Phillip Freeman, The Philosopher and The Druids - A Journey Among The Ancient Celts

This account highlights a culture where same-sex intimacy was socially significant, with young men expecting reciprocity. Aristotle and Diodorus Siculus noted the Celts’ high regard for male bonds within warrior societies, a norm so prevalent that abstinence marked exceptional piety, as seen in the Vita of St Samson. Greek practices, by contrast, emphasized power dynamics, with pederasty institutionalized in Sparta to foster bravery, as Xenophon describes. The Sacred Band of Thebes, a unit of 300 paired lovers, exemplified love’s martial power. Plato’s Symposium explores these dynamics, reflecting on Achilles and Patroclus:

“Very different was the reward of the true love of Achilles towards his lover Patroclus—his lover and not his love (the notion that Patroclus was the beloved one is a foolish error into which Aeschylus has fallen, for Achilles was surely the fairer of the two, fairer also than all the other heroes; and, as Homer informs us, he was still beardless, and younger far). And greatly as the gods honor the virtue of love, still the return of love on the part of the beloved to the lover is more admired and valued and rewarded by them, for the lover is more divine; because he is inspired by God. Now Achilles was quite aware, for he had been told by his mother, that he might avoid death and return home, and live to a good old age, if he abstained from slaying Hector. Nevertheless he gave his life to avenge his friend, and dared to die, not only in his defense, but after he was dead. Wherefore the gods honored him even above Alcestis, and sent him to the Islands of the Blest. These are my reasons for affirming that Eros is the oldest and noblest and mightiest of the gods; and the chiefest author and giver of virtue in life, and of happiness after death.”

— Plato, Symposium

Aeschines adds a legal perspective:

“Indeed, they say he will not even spare the poems of Homer or the names of the heroes, but will celebrate the friendship between Patroclus and Achilles, which, we are told, had its source in passion. And he will pronounce an encomium on beauty now, as though it were not recognised long since as a blessing, if happily it be united with morality. For he says that if certain men by slandering this beauty of body shall cause beauty to be a misfortune to those who possess it, then in your public verdict you will contradict your personal prayers.”

— Aeschines, Against Timarchus

William L. Petersen summarizes ancient Greek and Roman views of male sexuality as act-based rather than identity-based: sexuality was “polyvalent,” with men freely combining roles such as husband (ἀνήρ), client of prostitutes (πορνοκόπος), lover of adult men (ἐραστής), lover of youths (παιδεραστής), or adulterer (μοιχός). Almost all sexual behaviors — except transvestism — were socially acceptable to varying degrees, and individuals were described simply by listing their acts, not by belonging to fixed categories. Even when Christianity introduced the distinction between “natural” and “unnatural” acts (drawing on Jewish sexual ethics), the focus remained on specific behaviors rather than on stable sexual orientations. Consequently, neither pagan nor early Christian antiquity recognized modern categories of “homosexual” or “heterosexual”; as Sir Kenneth Dover clearly demonstrated, such identity labels would have been incomprehensible. Roman tolerance of slave-based sexual practices and the honored status of Cybele’s gender-fluid galli priests further illustrate this broad acceptance of diverse expressions. Later figures such as Hans Blüher, influenced by Romantic neo-Hellenism, reinterpreted and rigidified these fluid ancient practices into idealized male-bonding models that helped shape fascist visions of male-centric societies.

The Intellectual Roots of Fascist Eros

German Romanticism reshaped perceptions of sexuality and social structure, drawing on Hellenic ideals to inform the Männerbund and Männerstadt concepts, which profoundly influenced fascist ideology. Flourishing in the 19th century, this movement idealized ancient Greece as a pinnacle of aesthetic and moral achievement, celebrating male beauty and camaraderie as pathways to spiritual and societal unity. Thinkers like Richard Wagner, Friedrich Nietzsche, Blüher, and Evola drew on these ideals to propose a vision of society rooted in hierarchical, warrior-driven male bonds, challenging the individualism and domesticity of modern Europe. This intellectual current provided a foundation for fascist interpretations of Eros, particularly within the SA, while highlighting tensions with the Nazi regime’s later orthodoxy.

Wagner celebrated the Spartan model of male camaraderie, emphasizing its spiritual and societal dimensions:

“This beauteous naked man is the kernel of all Spartanhood; from genuine delight in the beauty of the most perfect human body – that of the male – arose that spirit of comradeship which pervades and shapes the whole economy of the Spartan State. This love of man to man, in its primitive purity, proclaims itself as the noblest and least selfish utterance of man’s sense of beauty, for it teaches man to sink and merge his entire self in the object of his affection. The higher element of that love of man to man… not only included a purely spiritual bond of friendship, but this spiritual friendship was the blossom and the crown of the physical friendship. The latter sprang directly from delight in the beauty, aye in the material bodily beauty of the beloved comrade.”

— Richard Wagner, The Art−Work of The Future

Wagner’s idealization of male bonds as a unifying force resonated with fascist thinkers, who saw in them a counter to modern fragmentation. Nietzsche, influenced by Wagner, critiqued imposed moral frameworks, rejecting Stoic naturalism and emphasizing individual will, which indirectly supported diverse expressions of identity:

“You desire to LIVE ‘according to Nature’? Oh, you noble Stoics, what a fraud of words! Imagine to yourselves a being like Nature, boundlessly extravagant, boundlessly indifferent, without purpose or consideration, without pity or justice, at once fruitful and barren and uncertain: imagine to yourselves indifference as a power— how could you live in accordance with such indifference? To live—is not that just endeavoring to be otherwise than this Nature? Is not living valuing, preferring, being unjust, being limited, endeavoring to be different? And granted that your imperative, ‘living according to Nature,’ means actually the same as ‘living according to life’—how could you do differently? Why should you make a principle out of what you yourselves are, and must be? In reality, however, it is quite otherwise with you: while you pretend to read with rapture the canon of your law in Nature, you want something quite the contrary, you extraordinary stage players and self-deluders! In your pride you wish to dictate your morals and ideals to Nature, to Nature herself, and to incorporate them therein; you insist that it shall be Nature ‘according to the Stoa,’ and would like everything to be made after your own image, as a vast, eternal glorification and generalism of Stoicism! With all your love for truth, you have forced yourselves so long, so persistently, and with such hypnotic rigidity to see nature falsely, that is to say, Stoically, that you are no longer able to see it otherwise— and to crown all, some unfathomable superciliousness gives you the Bedlamite hope that because you are able to tyrannize over yourselves— Stoicism is self-tyranny—Nature will also allow herself to be tyrannized over: is not the Stoic a part of Nature? ... But this is an old and everlasting story: what happened in old times with the Stoics still happens today, as soon as ever a philosophy begins to believe in itself. It always creates the world in its own image; it cannot do otherwise; philosophy is this tyrannical impulse itself, the most spiritual Will to Power, the will to ‘creation of the world,’ the will to the causa prima.”

— Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil

Nietzsche’s rejection of universal truths provided a philosophical basis for challenging normative sexuality, influencing later fascist interpretations. Evola expanded the Männerbund as a metaphysical foundation for the state, emphasizing its warrior ethos:

“Anti-militaristic democracy is the expression of ‘society’ which, with its material ideals of peace or, at most, of wars waged to maintain peace, is opposed to the political principle that is, to the principle of the Mannerbund, the shaping force of the State that has always depended on a warrior or military element, that cherished less material ideals, such as honor and superiority.”

— Julius Evola, quoted in Männerbund and Homosexuality - Männerbund: Aspect of Male Mystery Cults by Aryan Futurism

Hans Blüher argued that Eros drives societal formation, challenging Freudian repression models. Rooted in Romanticism, Blüher’s theories posited that a specific form of male Eros — not necessarily sexual but a communal bonding impulse — shaped male-centric societies and state institutions. He contended that culture does not repress sexuality; rather, culture emerges from the repression of sexuality, particularly Eros, equating the existence of culture with the essence of being human. Joining the Wandervogel in 1902, Blüher’s experiences in this romantic, anti-industrial movement led to his controversial 1912 book, The German Wandervogel Movement as Erotic Phenomenon, which highlighted homoerotic friendships as central to the movement’s cohesion.

“The doctrine of the ‘Männerbund’ finds its highest expression in the three volumes of ‘Wandervogel’ by Hans Blüher, and in his main work, Die Rolle der Erotik in der Männlichen Gesellschaft. Blüher takes these two forms of association to a dual erotic tendency, which is inherent in every man. One eros tends towards the woman and leads to the constitution of the family, the other leads towards the man and determines the creation of ‘male leagues’. With the concept of ‘Männerbund’, Blüher does not refer to a simple age range from which a man begins to devote himself to the family; it indicates a half of life that runs parallel to the other throughout the existence of a healthy man.”

— Armin Mohler, The Conservative Revolution

He saw as Eros as a primal, creative force distinct from mere sexual instinct. In his view, culture does not suppress sexuality; rather, the sublimation of Eros —particularly through male bonding and homoeroticism — serves as the foundation for cultural development and the essence of human civilization.

“The repression of sexuality does not result from culture, but the reverse, culture results from the repression of sexuality. To be human and to have culture are identical.”

— Hans Blüher, quoted in Männerbund and Homosexuality - Männerbund: Aspect of Male Mystery Cults by Aryan Futurism

Blüher’s Romanticist framework idealized a militant, masculine form of homosexuality that was explicitly anti-feminine, drawing inspiration from the warrior-centric society of ancient Sparta. Blüher’s work, particularly in books like The Role of Eroticism In Male Society, posits that male bonding, rooted in a sublimated Eros, is the cornerstone of societal structures. He argued that the most robust societies, like Sparta, were built on hierarchical, all-male institutions where homoerotic bonds fostered discipline, loyalty, and martial prowess. In Blüher’s idealized vision, these bonds were not merely sexual but represented a spiritual and cultural force that elevated men above base instincts, creating a cohesive, militarized social order. Sparta, with its rigorous training of young men in the agoge, communal living, and emphasis on martial valor, served as his archetype. Blüher romanticized this model, seeing it as a pure expression of masculine vitality untainted by feminine influence, which he viewed as softening or degenerative to societal strength. The family, for instance, chained the man down and degraded him in this perspective. The family could only be seen as Jewish, which also explains his rejection of Christianity as Jewish and his embrace of paganism.

“With the Jews it is as follows: they suffer at one and the same time from a weakness in male-bonding: ‘Männerbundschwäche’ and a hypertrophy of the family. They are submerged in the family and familial relations, but as to the relations among men, the old saying holds true Judaeus Judaeo lupus. Loyalty, unity, and bonding are no concern of the Jew. Consequently, where other peoples profit from a fruitful interaction of the two forms of socialization, that is—the family and the Männerbund, with the Jews there is a sterile division. Nature has visited this fate upon them and thus they wander through history, cursed never to be a Volk, always to remain a mere race. They have lost their state. There are people who are simply exterminated as peoples and who therefore disappear, but this cannot be the case with the Jews, for a secret process internal to their being as a people constantly displaces the energies typically directed toward male bonding onto the family. Consequently the Jews, maintain themselves as race through overemphasis of the family.”

— Hans Blüher, The Role of Eroticism In a Masculine Society

This militant masculine homosexuality was explicitly anti-feminine in Blüher’s philosophy. He believed that femininity, associated with domesticity and nurturing, undermined the aggressive, disciplined ethos required for a strong society. Women, in his view, were marginal to the cultural project, relegated to reproductive roles rather than active participants in the Männerbund (male bond or brotherhood), which he saw as the engine of civilization.

“The sexual energy of the youth does not seek the woman, but the friend.”

— Hans Blüher, The German Wandervogel Movement as Erotic Phenomenon: A Contribution to The Knowledge of Sexual Inversion

"All cultures of grand style, all heroic worlds, have arisen out of male bonds."

— Hans Blüher, The Role of Eroticism In a Masculine Society

In his analysis, Hans Blüher posits that the foundation of the state rests not on the state itself or its populace, but on the Männerbund. This offers an anthropological framework for understanding state formation, aligning with theories like those in David Graeber’s Debt: The First 5,000 Years, which traces the origins of societal structures. Blüher argues that these warrior collectives, forged through loyalty and mutual bonds, were the primary catalysts for the emergence of civilization, overshadowing other contributing factors.

Blüher’s theories influenced the ideology of the SA, which embraced a hyper-masculine, militarized identity. The SA, under leaders like Ernst Röhm, who was openly homosexual, cultivated an image of rugged, fraternal camaraderie that echoed Blüher’s vision. Röhm himself admired the Spartans, seeing the SA as a modern equivalent — a brotherhood of warriors united by loyalty and a shared martial ethos. Blüher’s emphasis on sublimated Eros provided an intellectual justification for the SA’s cult of masculinity, which glorified physical strength, discipline, male camaraderie, and homosexuality while rejecting feminine or bourgeois values as incompatible with their vision of a reborn, militarized Germany. Initially, Blüher supported the Nazi movement for many reason, aligning with his radical views. However, his support waned after the Night of The Long Knives in 1934, when the Nazis purged the SA leadership, including Röhm, in a brutal crackdown. Blüher protested this betrayal, seeing it as a cynical move that destroyed the Nazis revolutionary potential and contradicted his ideals. This dissent led him to retreat from public life to avoid Nazi persecution, continuing his work quietly as a psychologist in Berlin. While his books were not explicitly banned in the Nazi book burnings of 1933, which targeted “un-German” books, Blüher’s writings on homoeroticism faced de facto suppression as the regime intensified its crackdown on homosexuality post-1934, rendering his ideas increasingly dangerous in the repressive climate of Nazi Germany.

Ernst Röhm’s HomoFascism and Its Demise

Röhm’s leadership of the SA, the Nazi party’s paramilitary wing, represents a critical moment in fascist history, where the concept of Eros — rooted in intense male camaraderie and the Männerbund ideal — served as both a driving force and a source of contention, ultimately leading to his demise and the Nazi rejection of his vision. A decorated World War I veteran, Röhm’s experiences in the trenches and postwar Freikorps shaped his belief in disciplined masculinity and martial brotherhood, drawing inspiration from ancient Greek models like the Spartan agoge and Theban Sacred Band. His vision for the SA, influenced by German Romanticism and thinkers like Hans Blüher, sought to forge a revolutionary masculinity that rejected bourgeois domesticity and glorified male bonds, often reducing women to mere reproductive roles. This masculinist ethos, with its homoerotic undertones, clashed with the Nazi regime’s ideological imperatives of racial purity and reproductive priorities, as well as its political need to consolidate power through alliances with conservative elites. The 1934 Night of The Long Knives, which eliminated Röhm and other SA leaders, marked the definitive rejection of Eros and the Männerbund, driven by a combination of ideological rigidity and political pragmatism. Despite his execution, Röhm’s legacy persisted in neo-Nazi factions, highlighting the enduring appeal of his Männerbund — inspired ideology and its tension with the Third Reich’s ideological conformity.

Born in 1887, Röhm’s military background profoundly shaped his worldview. His service in World War I and involvement in the Freikorps, volunteer militias that suppressed leftist uprisings in post-war Germany, instilled a reverence for hierarchical male camaraderie, aligning with Blüher’s Männerbund concept, which positioned male leagues as a counter to family-centric structures. Joining the Weimar Reichstag in 1924 via the National Socialist Freedom party (NSFP), a proxy for the banned NSDAP, Röhm immersed himself in Berlin’s vibrant queer subculture, frequenting venues like the Kleist-Kasino and Eldorado club, known for their homosexual clientele and drag queen performances. This environment, contrasting sharply with conservative rural Germany, reinforced his rejection of liberal bourgeois norms and his vision of a society rooted in intense male bonds. By 1929, Röhm joined the League For Human Rights, advocating for the repeal of Paragraph 175, Germany’s anti-homosexuality law, while deepening his ties to the National Socialist movement. His open acknowledgment of his sexuality was bold for the era. Röhm’s masculinist contempt for women’s societal roles, positioning them as secondary to the male project of building a warrior society, a view that resonated with the Männerbund”s exclusionary ethos and foreshadowed similar attitudes in modern groups like the Manosphere.

Röhm’s vision for the SA drew heavily on the Männerbund concept, aiming to transform the organization into a modern warrior league embodying loyalty, sacrifice, and a revolutionary masculinity. Under his leadership, the SA grew from a small militia to over two million members by 1934, surpassing the German army, which was constrained by the Versailles Treaty. Röhm’s focus on street activism and paramilitary training aligned with leftist factions within the NSDAP, envisioning a “second revolution” to dismantle capitalist elites and establish the SA as a people’s army. This radicalism, rooted in the glorification of male bonds, carried homoerotic undertones, as Röhm drew inspiration from ancient Greek models where love between men fostered martial prowess. His letters to Karl-Günther Heimsoth, a physician and SA member, reveal his intent to normalize homosexuality within the NSDAP, reflecting his belief in Eros as a unifying force.

This vision, however, clashed with the Nazi regime’s ideological and political priorities, leading to Röhm’s downfall. The Nazi obsession with race, placed reproduction at the core of the volksgemeinschaft, emphasizing traditional family. Homosexuality, perceived as non-reproductive, was framed as a threat to this imperative, undermining the regime’s demographic goals. Heinrich Himmler, Reichsführer-SS and a key architect of Nazi social policy, intensified enforcement of Paragraph 175, leading to over 50,000 convictions and the internment of thousands of gay men in concentration camps between 1933 and 1945. Himmler’s rhetoric cast homosexuality as a moral and racial danger:

"There are people among homosexuals who take the position: what I do is nobody's business, it's my private affair. However, all things that move in the sex sector are not a private affair of an individual, but they mean the life and death of the people.”

— Heinrich Himmler, speech to the group leaders on February 18, 1937

This statement reflects the Nazi prioritization of reproductive imperatives. While Röhm’s masculinist vision similarly devalued women’s societal agency, his homoerotic ethos diverged from the regime’s emphasis on heterosexual conformity, creating ideological tension. The 1931–32 Röhm Scandal, when his private letters were exposed in the Münchener Post, intensified opposition to his leadership. The scandal inflamed conservative critics and the Catholic Church, who attacked the NSDAP’s moral laxity.

German cartoon by the Münchener Post, mocking Ernst Röhm's homosexuality

Despite dissent from figures like Alfred Rosenberg and Heinrich Himmler, Hitler initially defended Röhm, valuing his organizational skills. However, the SA-SS rivalry and Martin Bormann’s attacks on Röhm’s revolutionary politics escalated tensions, culminating in the Night of The Long Knives on June 30, 1934, when Röhm and key SA leaders were executed. His sexuality was used as a pretext to justify the purge, as noted by historians:

“Röhm was Hitler’s right-hand man as head of the Sturmabteilung (SA, the Brownshirts), the Nazi paramilitary wing. Instrumental in the rise of the party via the street-fighting and extra-judicial murders of the late 1920s and early 1930s, Röhm’s sexual orientation was no secret after the mid-1920s. Hitler either ignored it or said it was immaterial, depending on who he was talking to, including other Nazis.“

— Matthew Wills, Ernst Röhm, The Highest-Ranking Gay Nazi

The purge, orchestrated by Himmler and Hermann Göring, was driven by political motives rather than morality alone, as Röhm’s vision threatened Hitler’s alliances with industrialists and the military. Douglas Pearce reflects on its strategic nature:

“I had a conversation with a former member of the SS who was present in Germany during the 1930s. He mentioned that during the Night of the Long Knives, the issue of homosexuality was not brought up. The topic of homosexuality arose only after the removal of Ernst Röhm and his associates, serving as an additional pretext fabricated by Goering and Goebbels to justify the purge.”

— Douglas Pearce, quoted in Homosexualidad, muerte y recepción de Ernst Röhm by Francisco de Lizardi

The purge effectively suppressed the SA’s radical camaraderie, aligning the Third Reich with conservative elites and military interests. The Nazi rejection of Eros was further reinforced by propaganda that didn’t just confine women to reproductive roles. They respected and elevated women, as articulated by Joseph Goebbels:

“The mission of women is to be beautiful and bring children into the world. This is not at all as rude and unmodern as it sounds. The female bird pretties herself for her mate and hatches eggs for him. In exchange, the mate takes care of gathering food, and stands guard and wards off the enemy.”

— Joseph Goebbels, quoted in Mobilizing Women for War: German and American Propaganda, 1939–1945 Leila J. Rupp

This statement encapsulates the Nazi view of women, thereby rejecting the homoerotic elements as incompatible with the regime’s goals. The rejection of Eros marginalized a key dimension of early fascist thought, reshaping the Third Reich’s gender dynamics to emphasize heterosexual conformity. Röhm’s legacy persisted in postwar neo-Nazi factions, particularly through figures like Michael Kühnen, who revived his vision of fraternal socialism. Kühnen, a German neo-Nazi and homosexual activist, saw Röhm’s SA as a model for a revolutionary masculinity that prioritized male camaraderie over traditional families. Kühnen’s existence underscores the enduring appeal of Röhm’s ideology, which combined Eros, masculinism, and revolutionary politics, challenging the Nazi regime’s later emphasis on reproductive imperatives and gender roles. The Night of The Long Knives not only eliminated Röhm but also suppressed a radical vision of fascism that glorified male bonds while devaluing women’s societal roles, a dynamic that prefigures modern movements like the Manosphere, which similarly prioritize male camaraderie over gender equality.

Radical Traditionalism, Homosexuality, and The Third Sex

Dugin, a Russian philosopher born in 1962, is a leading theorist of neo-Eurasianism, blending nationalism with esoteric traditionalism. His early involvement in the Moscow bohemian underground, particularly the Iuzhinskii Circle, exposed him to thinkers like René Guénon and Julius Evola, whose Traditionalist School emphasized a return to pre-modern spiritual values. However, Dugin’s engagement with transgressive practices — magic, occult rituals, and explicit sexuality — during his time in the National Bolshevik party shaped his unconventional approach to traditionalism, setting him apart from strict Guénonian orthodoxy. In his 2009 book The Fourth Political Theory, Dugin critiques liberalism, communism, and fascism, proposing a new ideology that resists post-modernity and globalization while reimagining gender and sexuality. He argues that traditional societies often accommodated homosexuality as a sacred or neutral practice, challenging modern biases:

“The problem of homosexuality is a very difficult problem … in the primordial tradition, homosexuality as such is not condemned. On the contrary, it is a neutral phenomenon. Well, let’s take such Templars or some Eastern religions. Homosexuality – is part of the practice of seeking God, an attempt to reach sanctity through a fall, through a kind of moral death. It stands on a par with the mysticism of Manichaeism or some ideas of early Christianity.”

— Alexander Dugin quoted in Putin’s brain Dugin calls for support of nationalist, traditionalist homosexuality by Kresy24

This statement, from a preface to a book on homosexuality and national liberation, reflects Dugin’s view that traditional societies integrated homosexuality into spiritual practices, such as the Knights Templar’s alleged rites or Tantric rituals in Eastern traditions, where same-sex acts symbolized transcendence. His reference to the Templars, accused of homoerotic practices during their 14th-century trials, draws on historical narratives that portray male bonds as sacred, while his mention of Tantric rituals aligns with practices in some Hindu and Buddhist sects where same-sex acts were ritualized to balance spiritual energies. This perspective contrasts with Vedic texts like the Manu Smriti, which prescribe penalties for homosexual acts, but aligns with the Kama Sutra’s recognition of third-gender categories and same-sex partnerships, highlighting tradition’s ambivalence.

Dugin’s synthesis extends to anthropological evidence, such as Two-Spirit roles in Native American tribes and Mesopotamian gala priests, who performed ritualized same-sex acts to balance gender energies in pre-modern societies. He argues that these practices challenge liberal individualism’s mainstreaming of homosexuality, which he sees as diluting its radical, spiritual edge:

“However, I would like to point out the most important thing that regardless of the above, such a phenomenon as homosexuality (and, by the way, corruption) may have a different character – comprador but it can also be patriotic. As a state, as a civilization, we have made a fundamental mistake.”

— Alexander Dugin quoted in Putin’s brain Dugin calls for support of nationalist, traditionalist homosexuality by Kresy24

Dugin’s call for “patriotic homosexuality” opposes Western liberal models, advocating a return to elite, spiritual male bonds akin to Röhm’s SA ethos, where Eros fostered revolutionary identity. This vision, however, carries a masculinist undertone that glorifies male bonds while relegating women to reproductive roles, mirroring Röhm’s rejection of women’s societal influence and prefiguring modern movements like the Manosphere. Dugin’s critique of liberal gender norms is further evident in his eschatological view of Western decadence. He frames liberal gender policies as a sign of civilizational decline, aligning with his broader rejection of Western individualism. Yet, Dugin’s radical traditionalism paradoxically embraces homosexuality as a counter to this decline, provided it serves nationalist and spiritual aims, reflecting a tension between inclusivity and traditionalist hierarchies.

Dugin’s views on gender also intersect with his concept of the “neo-family,” which he sees as a revolutionary unit against western liberalism. While advocating for a traditional family structure, he critiques modern homosexuality as a globalist phenomenon, yet supports a “neo-family” that integrates radical, anti-liberal erotic practices, potentially including homosexual bonds. This masculinist framework prioritizes male-driven societal structures, reducing women to reproductive roles within the family, much like Röhm’s SA vision devalued women’s societal agency in favor of male camaraderie. Dugin’s alignment with Blüher’s Männerbund concept is evident here, as both see Eros as a cultural glue that binds men in opposition to bourgeois domesticity.

The masculinist contempt for women in Dugin’s ideology mirrors Röhm’s SA and modern movements like the Manosphere, where male bonds are glorified at the expense of female inclusion. This is further contextualized by Dugin’s broader geopolitical vision, which seeks to unite right and left elements under a “red-brown alliance” to challenge Western hegemony. This vision prioritizes male-dominated, hierarchical structures, echoing the SA’s revolutionary ethos and the Manosphere’s rejection of gender equality. Dugin’s engagement with figures like Alain de Benoist and Steve Bannon, as noted in Benjamin Teitelbaum’s work, further situates his ideas within a global network that often elevates male bonds over female agency. Dugin’s reinterpretation of homosexuality as a sacred element challenges both liberal and conservative norms, yet its masculinist interpretation reinforces a worldview that devalues women, aligning with the broader rejection of gender equality and resonating with Röhm’s legacy of counter-enlightenment.

“The national-socialist revolution has made a complete break with the philosophy that inspired the Great French Revolution of 1789.”

— Ernst Röhm quoted in Russian fascism: traditions, tendencies, movements by Stephen D. Shenfield

How It Manifests Now

The Charles Martel Society got started back in 2001 when William Regnery II set it up in Atlanta. It’s basically the money behind a bunch of white nationalist intellectual outfits — like The Occidental Quarterly and Counter-Currents. They were the ones who wrote the first checks for Richard Spencer’s National Policy Institute, and they’ve kept Counter-Currents afloat too (Atlanta antifascists have tracked a lot of this). A big chunk of what they fund ends up pushing the “Männerbund” idea.

People sometimes call the Charles Martel Society a secret gay cabal, but that’s mostly internet gossip with no real receipts at the moment….. The journals and books they bankroll are almost all about white identity, Jews-as-the-enemy, and “save the west” rhetoric. That said, they’re totally fine publishing Greg Johnson, who’s openly gay and argues that nationalism shouldn’t be anti-gay. So there’s some overlap here due to this networking.

The whole Manosphere thing that blew up online in the early 2000s (Roosh’s Return of Kings, all those forums) is pretty much the 21st-century version of the same Männerbund fantasy. It’s obsessed with lifting, fighting, bro-code loyalty, and the idea that feminism ruined everything. You see the same vibe: modern life has gone soft, women shouldn’t be in charge of anything important, real men need a tribe of other men to become who they’re meant to be. It’s Sparta, it’s the SA marching songs, it’s Viking war bands — just with memes and protein shakes.

Jack Donovan took that impulse and ran with it. He’s openly gay, writes under his real name, and in 2012 dropped The Way of Men, which is basically a love letter to primal, all-male gangs. His whole argument is that men only figure out who they are when they’re tested alongside other men — strength, courage, loyalty, hierarchy. Civilization, equality, women in the mix — it all dilutes the raw masculine fire, he says. He straight-up glorifies the street gang or the war band aka the Männerbund as the purest form of male existence, the same way those old German theorists romanticized knightly orders or the Sacred Band of Thebes. He writes:

“The Way of Men is the Way of the Gang.

We feel more comfortable and less vulnerable and more at home in the world if we have some kind of close-knit group — some sense of brotherhood.“

— Jack Donovan, The Way of Men

Donovan’s focus on male exclusivity marginalizes women’s societal roles. This reinforces a masculinist worldview that prioritizes male bonds, often with homoerotic undertones, over female inclusion, resonating with historical precedents like Röhm.

Greg Johnson, editor-in-chief of Counter-Currents Publishing, advocates for incorporating homosexuality into white nationalism, invoking historical male bonding traditions to bolster his case. In his 2010 article Homosexuality & White Nationalism, Johnson posits that homosexuality is a biological reality rather than a moral failing, and that homosexuals can advance nationalist objectives.

“I must protest Andrew Westphal’s ‘Homosexuality Ain’t Cool’ and other examples of queer-bashing on VNN. I have two arguments for why this is misguided and for why tolerance is a good thing for the White Nationalist movement. First, homosexuality is beside the point. Because of the distorting effects of Christianity and other religions, many people think that homosexuality is a moral issue. But it isn’t. It is a biological fact. Some people are homosexual, some are heterosexual, some are bisexual. That’s just how it is.”

— Greg Johnson, Homosexuality & White Nationalism

Johnson emphasizes the potential contributions of homosexuals:

“I have met a number of homosexuals in the contemporary White Nationalist movement, and I have my suspicions about a few others. All of these people, however, are intelligent and accomplished. They are real assets to the movement.”

— Greg Johnson, Homosexuality & White Nationalism

In his 2016 piece Gay Panic on The Alt Right, Johnson calls for a nuanced stance:

“This brings up the question of the proper role of homosexuals in ‘the’ movement. Again, I can only control my little corner of the movement, but my view is that White Nationalism should be ‘straight but not narrow,’ meaning that we should uphold and defend heterosexuality as the norm but also recognize that not everyone fits that norm. But as long as homosexuals uphold healthy norms and have something positive to contribute, they can and do make our movement stronger, if we stop worrying about it.”

— Greg Johnson, Gay Panic on the Alt Right

Johnson layers in historical context, referencing pederasty among ancient Aryan societies:

“Jesus saw fit to condemn divorce but not sodomy. Christians have to turn to the Old Testament, to the record of the Jews and their wanderings, crimes, superstitions, and hatreds. There we find homosexuality condemned as a capital crime. Why? The whole aim of the Jewish law is to set Jews apart from the rest of humanity. The Jews condemned buggery because they and all their neighbors were engaging in it. Homosexual pederasty, which still remains a taboo in our culture, was widely practiced by the ancient Aryan peoples of the Mediterranean world. The Persians, Greeks, and Romans all practiced it, including some of the manliest men in history and legend, like Achilles and Alexander the Great.”

— Greg Johnson, Homosexuality & White Nationalism

James J. O’Meara’s The Homo & The Negro, published by Counter-Currents, explores the Männerbund as a transcendent male bond rooted in excellence and sacrifice, transcending physicality. It applies a masculinist perspective to homosexuality’s historical significance, urging nationalists to reconsider there views on male bonding to defend western civilization effectively. This tension echoes throughout Johnson’s body of work, which revives Blüherian motifs to a tee.

Conclusions

The Männerbund concept, still festering in cesspools like Active Clubs, bastardizes historical intellectual traditions and props up vile gender hierarchies. Any view that trashes women is not just brain-dead but deserves to be obliterated for the sake of a society that’s not stuck in the Stone Age. Homosexuality has no place in nationalist groups — it’s a corrosive, anti-social force that needs to be rooted out completely. Masculinism is as rotten as its radical feminist twin; both need to be torched. Hating women is gay, and pederasty is straight-up evil. Blüher’s so-called evidence about Celtic homosexual practices is just recycled garbage from ancient Greek and Roman smear campaigns, now peddled by pro-gay “scholars” who twist history to fit their agenda. The idea of Eros justifying homosexuality is a sick joke — Plato and Christian doctrine reject it outright. This homofascist spin on Eros is nothing but a disgusting lie to prop up an abomination.