Latest news with #ItalianSocialRepublic
Yahoo
27-04-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Eighty years after Mussolini's execution, nostalgia for fascism persists
On April 28, 1945, the dictator Benito Mussolini was executed by members of the Italian resistance, along with his mistress Clara Petacci. The next day, their bodies were dumped in a Milan square and subjected to mockery and abuse by the mob. Yet eighty years after the fall of the "Duce", the legacy of fascism is no longer deplored in Italy, and even gives rise to nostalgia. The photographs appeared in media around the globe. The body of the former dictator Benito Mussolini, hung by the feet from a metal girder, facing a jeering crowd in Milan's Piazzale Loreto on April 29, 1945. His body and that of his mistress Clara Petacci had been horribly abused: spat upon, beaten and urinated on. By the time they were sent to the city's morgue, the remains were unrecognisable. Unlike Adolf Hitler, the 'Duce' chose to flee as the end of the war approached rather than commit suicide. Influential members of Mussolini's government turned against him by 1943 with the Allies capture of Sicily. He was arrested by the Fascist Grand Council and deposed in July, 1943, before being freed from prison by German special forces in September. Mussolini was brought to German-occupied northern Italy to establish a puppet state, the Italian Social Republic, which lasted until April 1945. Another option was to 'enter into immediate negotiations with the Allies in an attempt to save his own skin', De Luna notes. 'In the end, he chose to flee in a column with an armoured car, disguised as a German soldier in the back of a truck." Read more on FRANCE 24 EnglishRead also:Italy's Berlusconi praises Mussolini on Holocaust Day'Gruesome' new documentary about Mussolini's corpse
France 24
27-04-2025
- Politics
- France 24
Eighty years after Mussolini's execution, nostalgia for fascism persists
The photographs appeared in media around the globe. The body of the former dictator Benito Mussolini, hung by the feet from a metal girder, facing a jeering crowd in Milan's Piazzale Loreto on April 29, 1945. His body and that of his mistress Clara Petacci had been horribly abused: spat upon, beaten and urinated on. By the time they were sent to the city's morgue, the remains were unrecognisable. Unlike Adolf Hitler, the 'Duce' chose to flee as the end of the war approached rather than commit suicide. Influential members of Mussolini's government turned against him by 1943 with the Allies capture of Sicily. He was arrested by the Fascist Grand Council and deposed in July, 1943, before being freed from prison by German special forces in September. Mussolini was brought to German-occupied northern Italy to establish a puppet state, the Italian Social Republic, which lasted until April 1945. As Allied forces advanced and the military situation deteriorated, the former dictator found himself with few options. Italy's Valtellina Valley bordering Switzerland was one possible stronghold, a place 'for a desperate last stand', says historian Giovanni De Luna, a professor at the University of Turin. Another option was to 'enter into immediate negotiations with the Allies in an attempt to save his own skin', De Luna notes. 'In the end, he chose to flee in a column with an armoured car, disguised as a German soldier in the back of a truck." The aim was to reach Switzerland to escape capture by the Italian resistance fighters, the partisans. "Mussolini was no Hitler; he lacked the tragically idealistic streak that would drive the Führer to suicide. He did not have a mission to be a martyr. In this respect, Switzerland was an ideal and important destination for the Duce. He had already fled there as a young man to avoid military service, and had considered taking refuge there in 1922, when he was unsure whether his coup d'état, the March on Rome, had succeeded,' notes Italian historian Francesco Filippi, author of 'Mussolini Also Did a Lot of Good: The Spread of Historical Amnesia'. 'The sentence is carried out quickly' But the attempt to escape failed. On April 27, 1945, Mussolini's column was stopped by a small group of partisans not far from Lake Como. The Italian leader was discovered slumped over in one of the convoy's vehicles. Condemned to death by the Committee of National Liberation for Northern Italy, Mussolini was executed the following day along with his mistress. Many accounts have been put forward as to the circumstances of his death in the village of Giulino di Mezzegra, at which few people were present, but as Filippi points out, 'the sentence was carried out quickly, as it was considered too complex and risky to transfer Mussolini to Milan'. Filippi says that even if the protagonists themselves gave contradictory versions of the facts over the years, what matters "is the unanimous agreement on the entirely Italian dynamic of the execution. It was the Italians who ended the life of the Fascist leader". On the evening of April 28, the bodies of Mussolini and Petacci, along with those of 16 other executed Fascists, were transported to Milan. In the early hours of the following day, they were dumped on the ground in Piazzale Loreto. The choice of this spot was deliberate: "It was the place where a year earlier, in August 1944, the bodies of 15 [executed] partisans had been left to lie in the sun for a whole day, as a warning intended by the Germans and Fascists to intimidate the population.' 'Bringing Mussolini's corpse to Piazzale Loreto was nothing more than the application of the law of an eye for an eye,' says Giovanni De Luna, author of a book that focuses on what happened in Milan on April 29, 1945, entitled "Una domenica d'aprile: Piazzale Loreto, 1945: una fine, un inizio" (A Sunday in April: Piazzale Loreto, 1945: An end, a beginning). But for De Luna, it wasn't just the desire for revenge that drove the crowd to physically attack the Duce's remains: "You can't understand Italians' fascination with Fascism and Mussolini if you don't take Mussolini's body into account. He put his body on stage, shirtless, bathing on the beaches of Rimini and Riccione and being photographed in 1,000 poses. This body, so idolised and loved, became an object of mockery, profanation and insult in Piazzale Loreto." De Luna also says that this outpouring of violence occurred at a specific moment, during the transition between two regimes: "The old power is no longer there and the new one has not yet arrived. The partisans don't know how to control this crowd, which is regaining its sovereignty and almost getting drunk on blood, because it knows that this moment will come to an end." 'The Duce's brutal contempt for Italians' After his death, Mussolini's body was buried in an anonymous grave in a Milan cemetery. Exhumed by neo-fascists in 1946, it was then hidden for 11 years, before being returned to his family in 1957. It was then transferred to the crypt of the family chapel in the cemetery of San Cassiano in Predappio, in the northern region of Emilia-Romagna, which has become a pilgrimage site. On the anniversary of his execution, thousands of those nostalgic for fascism gather there. Eight decades after the fall of the dictator, this anniversary has taken a new turn. The far-right Fratelli d'Italia (Brothers of Italy) became the largest party in parliament after the 2022 legislative elections, propelling its leader Giorgia Meloni to the post of prime minister and making nostalgia for fascism acceptable. 'Things risk being watered down,' says De Luna. He notes that the president of the Senate, Ignazio La Russa, who holds the second-highest office in the Italian Republic, 'has a bust of Mussolini in his room'. 06:09 Fellow historian Filippi says that we are witnessing a rewriting of history: "Many people are trying in various ways to recuperate and revalue the memory of historical fascism. There's the version that Mussolini was basically a 'good person' concerned with the welfare of his subjects. An affectionate father who had made mistakes, but who had acted for the good. In reality, many accounts show the Duce's brutal contempt for the Italian people, whom he tried to transform over a period of twenty years. Mussolini wanted to create 'new Italians' because he didn't like the old ones." Filippi says that the country did not undertake a repudiation of fascism, or "defascistization", after the war because 'too many links had been forged between fascism and Italian society over a 20-year period'. He also says that the return of fascist ideas and nostalgia for Mussolini are 'a clear symptom of the crisis of representative democracy'. Coincidentally, the 80th anniversary of the Duce's death is occurring during the period following the death of Pope Francis. Mourning the death of a pope is a perfect pretext for the far right to downplay the events of 80 years ago, says Filippi: 'Taking advantage of his death, the government proclaimed five days of national mourning, compared with three for John Paul II, including April 25' – Liberation Day in Italy, marking the end of Nazi occupation and fascist rule. "The government has called upon citizens to celebrate this Liberation Day with sobriety, in other words, without too much enthusiasm," Filippi notes.
Yahoo
25-04-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Opinion - 80 years after liberation, Italian anti-fascists deserve more than solemn remembrance
Italy today celebrates the 80th anniversary of its liberation. After two-and-a-half years, Italian partisans got rid of both the Nazi German former ally that had occupied half the country and morally rid itself of the already-fallen Italian fascist regime. To put it jokingly: We Italians invented fascism, but luckily we also invented anti-fascism. Fascism, before it was a regime, was (and remains) a political model based on the overpowering of the other and the utter refusal to resolve conflict peacefully. Both before and after Mussolini's fascists seized power in 1922, the squadristi exercised violence daily in the countryside and in the headquarters of political opponents — torturing, humiliating and killing. Mussolini declared in his famous 1925 speech claiming moral responsibility for the murder of Socialist politician Giacomo Matteotti, 'When two elements are in struggle and are irreducible, the solution is force.' An anti-fascist movement developed against all this, but it was quickly stifled. Scattered, the rebels of the first hour continued to work against the regime, but their voices sounded faintly. When King Victor Emmanuel III turned his back on Italy's German ally on Sept. 8, 1943, throwing the country into chaos, anti-fascists took to organizing to repel both the Nazis and the newly formed Italian Social Republic, the puppet state in which Mussolini sought to reassert his power in the northeast. But their anti-fascism was different from the previous one. It was first of all a less intellectual and thought-out affair. A great many partisans were young renegades and stragglers. They went up into the mountains to join the Resistance driven by ideals as much as by personal confusion. The actual political training took place live, in the heat of battle and in the small community created among them, the microcosm of the 'banda,' the gang. ('Just a f—–g bandit,' the partisan of Luigi Meneghello's 'The Outlaws' memorably shouts to a British officer questioning him about who he was). Living in gangs, and with the difficulty of communicating among the various groups (many 'relay girls' dealt with this heroically, a legacy too little remembered), the partisans were forced to give themselves autonomous rules. When they liberated larger territories, they gave birth to short-lived but full-fledged republics with advanced constitutions. Above all, the Italian Resistance offered an entire generation the chance to make radical choices, to decide not only on their deeds but on the ultimate fate of a continent battered by violence. In the absence of governing powers to which they could delegate responsibility, they took it on in full — without abdicating their own youth. The partisans fought and danced, and laughed, and freely created their own lives after years of regimented education. It was very hard yet also, as many remember, very exciting. Such narrative erases the martyr-like appearance so typical of public rhetoric, and restores them in their truth: young men and women who sacrificed everything to liberate their homeland, but also to build a new world. Not that there was agreement on its realization. Communists, Catholics and others had conflicting views, but all adhered to the core idea of denying fascism both as a totalitarian political structure and as the vindication of violence as a lifestyle. If this were only an Italian national fight, the value of Apr. 25 would be limited, and this article not needed. Instead, the aims and gestures of partisans must take on a universal character. Before he was shot by the Nazis, a teenage Italian freedom fighter kissed one of them and smilingly told him, 'I die for you too. Long live free Germany!' Today, the idea of historical fascism returning in full is untenable. But the presence of the drives that defined fascism persist: contempt for democracy, smug admiration of force, totalitarian aspiration and expansionist intent. So I would like to reiterate the goodness of anti-fascism as a method and ideal, even in the absence of 'true fascism,' however one wishes to understand it. Europe, as has been said in recent days, is at a historic crossroads. But in fact it has been at this crossroads for years. In facing this challenge, the initiative cannot be left solely to the 'upper echelons' and international politics. Blindly delegating political action to them would mean giving into the indifference and fatigue that circulated long before the recent outbreak of Russian aggression. So yes, the moment is crucial and very difficult — but also harbors great opportunities. In 1946, Albert Camus expressed it memorably: 'We can't pretend to escape from history for we are in history. We can only aspire to do battle in the arena of history to save from it that part of man which does not belong to it.' This is 'the obligation each person incurs with regard to others,' which must however be 'balanced by time for reflection, pleasure, and the happiness every person owes themselves.' This is nothing to be optimistic about, just as Camus was not. But his stark realism did not prevent him from cultivating a modest utopia — and from inviting every person to fight for it, building small, active groups that can influence the world from below. In this regard, the Italian partisans give us an invaluable moral lesson. They refused both the easy indifference that afflicted the majority of the population, and the proxy of commitment to the Allied forces alone. They immediately acted because they couldn't stand the situation anymore, and did it with humanity, courage and responsibility. What a contrast to today's general refusal to be held accountable! Without taking refuge in some idea of moral sanctity, the partisans took up the fight when necessary, and paid its price. So we should not remember the partisans standing still in a photograph, but in motion. In fact, Apr. 25, 1945 did not mark the end of the war — it launched the insurrection of the cities of northern Italy. That helped the forces of resistance to accredit and legitimize themselves, also through a display of force, to the Allies. Yet the symbolic meaning stands intact: It is not the victory that is celebrated, but the liberation process, the very conflict. Historical perspective helps to avoid making erroneous comparisons and normalizing the partisan experience. Surely Italy has not been up to the Resistance over the last 80 years. Yet such critical distance can also create a trap: to consider these facts accomplished and buried, simply to be studied and known — available only as the objects in a moral museum. They are not. The living experience of Apr. 25 gives us reasons to undertake the hard task of being better. Giorgio Fontana is a writer and novelist who lives in Milan, Italy. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
The Hill
25-04-2025
- Politics
- The Hill
80 years after liberation, Italian anti-fascists deserve more than solemn remembrance
Italy today celebrates the 80th anniversary of its liberation. After two-and-a-half years, Italian partisans got rid of both the Nazi German former ally that had occupied half the country and morally rid itself of the already-fallen Italian fascist regime. To put it jokingly: We Italians invented fascism, but luckily we also invented anti-fascism. Fascism, before it was a regime, was (and remains) a political model based on the overpowering of the other and the utter refusal to resolve conflict peacefully. Both before and after Mussolini's fascists seized power in 1922, the squadristi exercised violence daily in the countryside and in the headquarters of political opponents — torturing, humiliating and killing. Mussolini declared in his famous 1925 speech claiming moral responsibility for the murder of Socialist politician Giacomo Matteotti, 'When two elements are in struggle and are irreducible, the solution is force.' An anti-fascist movement developed against all this, but it was quickly stifled. Scattered, the rebels of the first hour continued to work against the regime, but their voices sounded faintly. When King Victor Emmanuel III turned his back on Italy's German ally on Sept. 8, 1943, throwing the country into chaos, anti-fascists took to organizing to repel both the Nazis and the newly formed Italian Social Republic, the puppet state in which Mussolini sought to reassert his power in the northeast. But their anti-fascism was different from the previous one. It was first of all a less intellectual and thought-out affair. A great many partisans were young renegades and stragglers. They went up into the mountains to join the Resistance driven by ideals as much as by personal confusion. The actual political training took place live, in the heat of battle and in the small community created among them, the microcosm of the 'banda,' the gang. ('Just a f—–g bandit,' the partisan of Luigi Meneghello's 'The Outlaws' memorably shouts to a British officer questioning him about who he was). Living in gangs, and with the difficulty of communicating among the various groups (many 'relay girls' dealt with this heroically, a legacy too little remembered), the partisans were forced to give themselves autonomous rules. When they liberated larger territories, they gave birth to short-lived but full-fledged republics with advanced constitutions. Above all, the Italian Resistance offered an entire generation the chance to make radical choices, to decide not only on their deeds but on the ultimate fate of a continent battered by violence. In the absence of governing powers to which they could delegate responsibility, they took it on in full — without abdicating their own youth. The partisans fought and danced, and laughed, and freely created their own lives after years of regimented education. It was very hard yet also, as many remember, very exciting. Such narrative erases the martyr-like appearance so typical of public rhetoric, and restores them in their truth: young men and women who sacrificed everything to liberate their homeland, but also to build a new world. Not that there was agreement on its realization. Communists, Catholics and others had conflicting views, but all adhered to the core idea of denying fascism both as a totalitarian political structure and as the vindication of violence as a lifestyle. If this were only an Italian national fight, the value of Apr. 25 would be limited, and this article not needed. Instead, the aims and gestures of partisans must take on a universal character. Before he was shot by the Nazis, a teenage Italian freedom fighter kissed one of them and smilingly told him, 'I die for you too. Long live free Germany!' Today, the idea of historical fascism returning in full is untenable. But the presence of the drives that defined fascism persist: contempt for democracy, smug admiration of force, totalitarian aspiration and expansionist intent. So I would like to reiterate the goodness of anti-fascism as a method and ideal, even in the absence of 'true fascism,' however one wishes to understand it. Europe, as has been said in recent days, is at a historic crossroads. But in fact it has been at this crossroads for years. In facing this challenge, the initiative cannot be left solely to the 'upper echelons' and international politics. Blindly delegating political action to them would mean giving into the indifference and fatigue that circulated long before the recent outbreak of Russian aggression. So yes, the moment is crucial and very difficult — but also harbors great opportunities. In 1946, Albert Camus expressed it memorably: 'We can't pretend to escape from history for we are in history. We can only aspire to do battle in the arena of history to save from it that part of man which does not belong to it.' This is 'the obligation each person incurs with regard to others,' which must however be 'balanced by time for reflection, pleasure, and the happiness every person owes themselves.' This is nothing to be optimistic about, just as Camus was not. But his stark realism did not prevent him from cultivating a modest utopia — and from inviting every person to fight for it, building small, active groups that can influence the world from below. In this regard, the Italian partisans give us an invaluable moral lesson. They refused both the easy indifference that afflicted the majority of the population, and the proxy of commitment to the Allied forces alone. They immediately acted because they couldn't stand the situation anymore, and did it with humanity, courage and responsibility. What a contrast to today's general refusal to be held accountable! Without taking refuge in some idea of moral sanctity, the partisans took up the fight when necessary, and paid its price. So we should not remember the partisans standing still in a photograph, but in motion. In fact, Apr. 25, 1945 did not mark the end of the war — it launched the insurrection of the cities of northern Italy. That helped the forces of resistance to accredit and legitimize themselves, also through a display of force, to the Allies. Yet the symbolic meaning stands intact: It is not the victory that is celebrated, but the liberation process, the very conflict. Historical perspective helps to avoid making erroneous comparisons and normalizing the partisan experience. Surely Italy has not been up to the Resistance over the last 80 years. Yet such critical distance can also create a trap: to consider these facts accomplished and buried, simply to be studied and known — available only as the objects in a moral museum. They are not. The living experience of Apr. 25 gives us reasons to undertake the hard task of being better.
