Mario Serandrei. Frame from Giorni di gloria. 1945.

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 Winners and Losers in at the End of the Second World War*

ROBERTO VIVARELLI

For an Italian reader pondering the subject of defeat and perhaps wanting to extract from it a lesson that can relate to our national experience, this book by Wolfgang Schivelbusch poses some problems, and not due to an absence of historical example. There is no doubt that the war into which the entered voluntarily, on June 10, 1940, concluded with a defeat that heavily marked the course of our history. But the very specific events in Italy between the summer of 1943 and the spring of 1945 create a disorderly picture, making it difficult to establish just who the winners and losers were. One obvious sign of this ambiguity is the fact that the final date for that chapter in history, April 25, 1943, corresponds to the end of the war in Italy and, as such, should correspond to the decisive act of defeat, but instead appears in our political liturgy as a national holiday: the anniversary of the Liberation. There are clearly good rea- sons why the date has taken on this significance, but even while the war’s end is celebrated as a victory, the fact remains that on February 10, 1947, Italy came to the Peace Conference table as a defeated power and was asked to pay the price for that defeat. Thus these events must be examined on various different levels. On the institutional level things are relatively simple. One might have doubts as to whether July 25, with Mussolini’s fall from power, corresponds in all respects to the fall of , and we shall return to this point. The symbiosis that had been established between Fascism and and the nature of those who came to political power suggest proceeding with caution. But there can be no uncertainty whatsoever about the importance and significance of September 8, 1943: a date that irrevocably marks the end of the national state that had been established in 1861, at the conclusion of the Risorgimento process. This inglorious end, which in subjective terms gave rise to the painful impression that the “death of the country” had taken place (and we have

* This essay was originally published as the introduction to the Italian edition of Wolfgang Schivelbusch’s The Culture of Defeat: On National Trauma, Mourning, and Recovery (New York: Picador, 2004): La cultura dei vinti (: Il Mulino, 2006). We would like to thank the author and Paula Pecchioli of Il Mulino for kindly giving us permission to do so.

OCTOBER 128, Spring 2009, pp. 6–22. © 2009 October Magazine, Ltd. and Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 8 OCTOBER

numerous accounts of this widespread sentiment),1 is measured in factual terms by the simple observation that, beginning from that date, Italy lost its indepen- dence. Whatever political judgment one wishes to give to the two different and contrasting sides, neither of the regimes established after September 8—the Kingdom of the South and the ( and Salò)—was an independent state. With significant parallelism, the former was dependent on the power of the Allies, the latter on that of the Germans. The awkward attempt by Victor Emmanuel III to save not only himself, but also his throne, by simply changing his allegiance, repudiating his previous and quite serious responsibili- ties, had no possibility of succeeding. The armistice that had been hastily signed established an unconditional surrender,2 and this crushing defeat was aggra- vated by the confused and irresponsible way in which the situation was handled. The crisis inaugurated a dramatic institutional problem. At the war’s end, although the institution of the monarchy was saved, at this point a new state was being established. In the immediate void that ensued, the Church—the sole institution to which Italians indiscriminately could turn and find at least some momentary shelter—unexpectedly gained ground.3 While on the one hand the collapse of the state and the dissolution of its authority abandoned individuals to their fates, on the other hand it loosened the bond of loyalty that, until that point, had in some manner tied Italians—even those who did not identify with Fascism—to its institutions. And since September 8 did not mark the end of the war, but indeed inaugurated an even harsher and more painful period, with the battlefield now the very territory of the nation, the new situation opened up the possibility of free choice.4 No longer tied to the obligation to remain aligned with the states in which they were citizens, Italians could now assert their own political preferences, which for the most part depended on their life circumstances. This was the most immediate consequence of the dissolution of the national community. Initially it would seem that choice would have to be limited to only two sides: following the fortunes of the king and accepting the British-Americans as new allies; or remaining loyal to an alliance

1. The expression, by Salvatore Satta, was revived and disseminated by Ernesto Galli della Loggia, La morte della patria. La crisi dell’idea di nazione tra Resistenza, antifascismo e Repubblica [The death of the country: The crisis of the idea of nation between Resistance, antifascism and republic], (-Bari: Laterza, 1996), a controversial essay that develops a thesis advanced in a 1992 report. 2. The most complete and well-documented reconstruction of the complex events subsequent to July 25, 1943, the negotiations with the Allies, up to the unconditional surrender, and the way that the Italian government managed the critical situation, is discussed in Elena Aga Rossi, Una nazione allo sbando. L’armistizio italiano del settembre 1943 e le sue consequenze [A nation adrift: The Italian armistice of September 1943 and its consequences], new, expanded edition, (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2003). 3. With his usual acumen, Federico Chabod emphasized this point in L’Italia Contemporanea (1918–1948) [Contemporary Italy (1918–1948)], (: Einaudi, 1961), pp. 125–226. For the Catholic world’s reactions to political developments, see Renato Moro, “I cattolici italiani e il 25 luglio” [Italian Catholics and July 25], in Storia Contemporanea, XXIV, 1993, pp. 967–1017. 4. A precise and extremely well articulated picture of the situation is presented in Claudio Pavone, Una Guerra civile. Saggio storico sulla moralità nella Resistenza [: Historical essay on morality in the Resistance], (Turin: Bollati Boringhieri, 1991), Chapter 1.

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 Winners and Losers in Italy 9

with , embracing the symbols of the new Fascist republic. In reality the picture immediately became less clear-cut. The forces of a waning but never- extinguished anti-Fascism were reborn from the ashes of defeat and reconstituted into parties, but only a few of these identified with the institution of the monar- chy. At the same time, in the part of Italy occupied by German troops, the majority of those who were preparing to engage in armed struggle against the Germans and their Fascist allies were gathering under the banner of anti-Fascism. This was the genesis of the composite movement collectively summarized in the term Resistance, which in some way represented a third pole, between Bari and Salò. In fact, most of those who were participating in this resistance were not impelled by a desire to align themselves with the King and his government. Moreover in that atmosphere of mistrust, uncertainty, frustration, and danger, many simply chose to not choose. As far as circumstances allowed, they preferred to remove themselves from a direct commitment to events that now, through weariness and delusion, seemed for the most part alien to the world of their own feelings. This impression of alienation was facilitated by the fact that the future of Italy, whatever side a person identified with, no longer depended at all on the Italians. After September 8, Italy’s future depended on the outcome of a war from which the Kingdom of Italy had been removed, and which was being fought in a much broader theater than that of our national territory, and in any case between foreign armies. Under these circumstances, apart from what each individual might resolve to do, the will to continue to fight that still animated a not-inconsiderable number of Italians, on one side or another, necessarily took on not so much or not only political significance, but rather and above all moral significance: the desire to bear witness. This understanding enables us to reach an initial, partial conclusion, in an attempt to resolve the question of who the losers and winners were. On a political level, to which we shall return shortly, this distinction is made on the basis of known results. It is obvious that those who, either by choice or because of fortunate circumstances, found themselves on the side of the winners, or in any case fought for the right side, opposing the barbarism of , deserved not only the approval of history, but our own commendation as well. On a moral level, that is, on a personal level, this same contraposition loses signifi- cance. The value of testimony is not measured by the quality of the cause in which one participates, but by the sincerity of the faith that animates that participation and by the honesty of one’s conduct. When it is the result of will (the case of con- scripts is different), participation in an armed conflict always implies a challenge to oneself more than to others. And just as finding oneself on the right side does not necessarily correspond to one’s merit, because it can depend on chance, so too ending up on the wrong side does not necessarily correspond to one’s guilt. The reasons presented by life, which do not have the advantage of hindsight, do

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 10 OCTOBER

not coincide with the reasons of history. And if, on a political level, it is obligatory to maintain a clear distinction between losers and winners, and grant only the lat- ter the effective merit of the results of their sacrifice, on a moral level all those who, in the secrecy of their souls, were able to overcome the selfish instinct of preservation, who were able to reject the still-easy rules of prudence and risk their safety and their lives for a conviction—and it matters little on what it is based—to act in the name of a superior duty, equally deserve to be considered winners. This clarification was especially necessary because, as Schivelbusch himself suggests, those who have experienced defeat on a personal level are often capable of extracting from that painful experience a more worthwhile lesson than the one their adversaries draw from victory. This is equivalent to saying that political vic- tory does not always end in moral victory, and not because that success is unmerited or because it does not also have moral significance, but by virtue of the fact that while defeat leads to meditation, victory easily engenders pride and thus risks corrupting those it has touched. But I realize that we are on elusive terrain, dealing for the most part with the personal manner in which individuals manage to come to terms with their life experiences, which they make use of in order to develop awareness: awareness of themselves as individuals, and more importantly, awareness of the community to which those experiences have always pertained. Specifically, the Italian situation and the events that devastated the country between 1943 and 1945 demonstrate how difficult it is to hand down a memory of a tormented past that is faithful to factual truth and how the assertion of this truth can rekindle strong conflicts. Returning to the more solid terrain of politics, or to public life, I will not say that the picture is simpler, but it is certainly easier to define. Let’s begin with a fact: it is simple to observe that the losers were all those who, practically or senti- mentally, fought on the side of Salò. And today we know full well about the tears and blood that flowed from that defeat.5 Thus this would seem to suggest that the dividing line between losers and winners corresponds on a political level to the Fascism/anti-Fascism dichotomy. If we limit ourselves to a consideration of only two of the poles of that divided Italy—Salò and the Resistance—although for rea- sons I will go on to explain, this assessment is misguided—it is easy to accept that the distinction between losers and winners does correspond to that dichotomy. And this justifies the fact that the 25th of April became a national holiday, the anniversary of the Liberation. But if we also want to take into account the third pole, Bari, as we must, things are less simple; some of those who were equally opposed to Salò also fought in the Kingdom of the South, and they must be counted among not the winners, but the losers. Take the example of Carlo Fecia di Cossato, a valiant Navy officer who, working from a base in , had long

5. For a wide-ranging description of the violence suffered by Salò militants after the end of the war, see recent works by , Il sangue dei vinti [The blood of the losers], and Sconosciuto 1945 [Unknown 1945], (: Sperling & Kupfer, 2003 and 2005).

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 Winners and Losers in Italy 11

commanded a , the Tazzoli, in bold exploits in the Atlantic. Taking on a new command, he found himself in on September 8, and after scrupulously and unhesitatingly following orders he believed came from the King, he first engaged the Germans in battle and then took his unit to . When in June 1944, with the marginalization of the king and the suspension of his authority, the actual significance of September 8 became clear, Fecia di Cossato felt betrayed, and in August of that year he committed suicide. In his last letter, to his mother, he wrote: For nine months I have thought only of the extremely sad moral posi- tion in which I find myself, following the ignominious surrender of the Navy, a surrender to which I resigned myself only because it was presented to us as an order from the King, who asked us to make this enormous sacrifice of our military honor, so that we might remain the bulwark of the Monarchy during peacetime. You know what is happen- ing now in Italy and you understand how we have been ignominiously betrayed and find that we have committed a vile act without any result . . . . For months I have thought about my sailors on the Tazzoli who lie honorably at the bottom of the sea and I think that my place is more with them than with the traitors and petty crooks who surround us.6 This document lends itself to many interpretations, in part because it exposes both one of the dramatic aspects of these events—heretofore deliberately and stubbornly obscured—and the reasons behind sentiments regarding the death of the country. Fecia di Cossato was not a Fascist, as demonstrated by his behavior on September 8; he was simply a faithful soldier, committed to serve Italy and its institutions, first and foremost the sovereign. Distant from politics, in com- pliance with our military tradition, he had accepted Fascism and its wars, since Fascism corresponded to the legitimate government of Italy, if one accepted that the King was always the head of state. One of the aspects of the drama of September 8 was that, even after the departure of Mussolini and the rupture of the alliance with Germany, the king and Badoglio remained accomplices of Mussolini and thus had no moral legitimacy to credibly represent now-victorious anti-Fascism.7 This resulted in the ambiguity of the Kingdom of the South and,

6. Achille Rastelli, Carlo Fecia di Cossato. L’uomo, il mito e il marinaio [Carlo Fecia di Cossato: The man, the myth, and the sailor], (Milan: Mursia, 2001), p. 150. The fact that Italy’s move to the side of the Allies violated the rules of honor was recognized, for example, by men as different as General Eisenhower and . For the former, see Aga Rossi, Una nazione allo sbando, cit., p. 90; for the latter, see his letter to Ernesto Rossi, December 12, 1944, in Ernesto Rossi and Gaetano Salvemini, Dall’esilio alla Repubblica. Lettere 1944–1957 [From exile to the republic: Letters 1944–1957], ed. M. Franzinelli, (Turin: Bollati Boringhieri, 2004), pp. 38–39. 7. Aga Rossi offers many examples of Badoglio’s disloyalty, his lack of scruples and his willingness to double-cross, in Una nazione allo Sbando, cit., pp. 74–75, 83, 109–112, 115–116, 182. Ibid., p. 10, he is cor- rectly described as “unfit for understanding what was really happening” between July and September 1943, an interpretive approach that opposes Fascism and anti-Fascism. Bastino provides two examples in this regard: the King’s desire to have , presented as “antifascist,” as his Foreign Minister (ibid., p.

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 12 OCTOBER

with regard to Salò, its substantial difference from the Resistance. This ambiguity had in some manner hidden the fact that, with September 8, the national state was finished, because it was impossible to simultaneously defeat Fascism and save the King. And the end of the national state also brought an end to a universe of sentiments and values, including the value of military honor, in which Fecia di Cossata and others had been trained. The case of Fecia di Cossato, while exceptional, is emblematic. Even without arriving at such extremes, the end of the national state, and with it the end of the monarchy, was unquestionably experienced as a painful defeat by all those who identified with traditional institutions. Although the results of the referendum of June 2, 1946 ratified the victory of the republic, supporters of the monarchy still represented about half the country (approximately 46% of the votes cast). With regard to the outcome of that electoral face-off, which, having ended the antago- nism of a traumatic civil war, established who were the losers and who were the winners in institutional terms, the Fascism/anti-Fascism dichotomy was meaning- less, since, as we know, a not inconsiderable number of anti-Fascists (the case of is exemplary) voted in favor of the monarchy. Instead, if we want to express it in conventional terms, we might say that the victory of the Republic corresponded to the feelings of those who, after the end of Fascism, had wished, in whatever fashion, for “another Italy.” But can it really be said that the Italian Republic, that is the new state—as it took shape after the referendum and whose contours would be defined by the constitution, which entered into effect on January 1, 1948—corresponded to the expectations of all those who had fought for “another Italy”? Can it really be said that all of them could be considered victors? The expression “another Italy,” which emerged after 1925 among the anti- Fascist ranks, summarized the hopes of all who opposed Mussolini and who considered the monarchy strictly responsible for the success of Fascism.8 Their belief, that in order for Italy to free itself from Fascism, it had to remove the monarchy, was reasserted, for example, in a pamphlet by Gaetano Salvemini and Giorgio La Piana, What to Do with Italy, addressed above all to the American gov- ernment—part of the political power that held the future of Italy in its hands—and written a few days prior to July 25, 1943, while Mussolini was still in power, but at a time when the Allied victory was already being taken for granted.9

283, note 45); and the fact that one of the few Italian units to react against the Germans with arms, after 8 September, was the coastal division to which Piombino belonged, commanded by Cesare Maria De Vecchi (ibid., p. 141; and see Sandro Setta, Cesare Maria de Vecchi di Val Cismon. Diario 1943 [Cesare Maria de Vecchi from Val Cismon. Diary 1943] in Storia Contemporanea, XXIV, 1993, pp. 1061–1062 and 1069–1113). 8. Regarding how the theme of “another Italy” specifically unfolded in the circle surrounding , see Santi Fedele, E verrà un’altra Italia. Politica e cultura nei “Quaderni di Giustizia e Libertà” [And another Italy will come: Politics and culture in the “Notebooks of Justice and Liberty”], (Milan: Fraco Angeli, 1992). 9. (New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1943); the text bears the date July 8, 1943. An Italian trans- lation appears in Gaetano Salvemini, L’Italia vista dall’America [Italy seen from America], ed. Enzo Tagliacozzo, (Milan: Feltrinelli, 1969), pp. 161–394.

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 Winners and Losers in Italy 13

Salvemini and La Piana’s proposal was clear: they hoped for a democratic republic that would reestablish a parliamentary regime. This entailed bringing back to Italy the free institutions of the Western world, which Fascism had destroyed, nothing more and nothing less. At least on a formal level, this is precisely what happened. But was this “the other Italy” hoped for by the totality of political forces, gathered together under the banner of anti-Fascism? In other words, did the new state, the republic that emerged from the ruins of war and which had to reestablish the national community that was dissolved on September 8, corre- spond to a victory for anti-Fascism? The question is not rhetorical. All the political forces that made up the anti-Fascist coalition participated in the drafting of the republican constitution, in the Constituent Assembly.10 It is equally true that, despite abundant redundancies and numerous flaws, which led Salvemini to call that text “a flood of foolishness,”11 the new republican constitu- tion turned Italy into a democracy, in the modern sense of the term. There is no doubt that, objectively speaking, this important result corresponded to a victory for anti-Fascism. However, if we compare the goal achieved with the intentions that the anti-Fascist forces had gradually expressed along the way, things are much more complicated. Two facts should be taken into consideration in this regard. First of all, anti-Fascism found its common denominator in the negative, that is, in the struggle against a common enemy. In terms of positive action, however—what to do after the fall of Fascism—the programs of the different political factions dif- fered profoundly.12 Secondly, among the majority of its forces and in its most active components, the restoration of liberal-democratic institutions was not part of the anti-Fascist program. It goes without saying that anti-Fascism and democ- racy are not the same.13 This is completely evident if one considers the positions of the Communists and their fellow-traveler Socialists, for whom the political model had been and remained the Soviet Union, so that Italy too, had it given in, would have had to adopt the sort of regime that was euphemistically known as “popular democracy.” But even within the , among its varied and sometimes dis- cordant voices, there were Jacobinic attempts that led to the proposal of political

10. In this regard there is a great deal of information in Le idee costituzionali della Resistenza [The con- stitutional ideas of the Resistance], Conference Proceedings, Rome, October 19–21, 1995, ed. C. Franceschini, S. Guerrieri and G. Moninna, (Rome: Presidenza del Consiglio dei Ministri, 1997). 11. In a letter to Ernesto Rossi, March 19, 1947, in Rossi and Salvemini, Dall’esilio alla Repubblica, cit. p. 235. 12. For understanding these differences, Claudio Pavone’s essay is still extremely useful: Le idee della Resistenza. Antifascisti e fascisti di fronte alla tradizione del Risorgimento [Ideas of Resistance: Antifascists and Fascists confronting the tradition of the Risorgimento] (1959), now in Id., Alle orig- ini della Repubblica. Scritti su fascismo, antifascismo e continuità dello Stato [At the origins of the Republic. Writings on Fascism, antifascism and the continuity of the State], (Turin: Bollati Boringhieri, 1995), pp. 3–69. As we know, the Resistance was also driven by differing goals, to the point that people spoke of three wars: the patriotic war, the civil war, and the class war (Pavone, Una Guerra civile, cit.). 13. This is asserted, for example, in Aurelio Lepre, L’anticomunismo e l’antifascismo in Italia [Anticommunism and antifascism in Italy], (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1997), pp. 8–9, 24–25.

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 14 OCTOBER

solutions incompatible with free institutions.14 Considering that, at this same time, entreaties for modern liberty met with little success in Catholic territory, it needs to be recognized that while the republican constitution had many fathers, it was difficult to say which of these was legitimate. Moreover in the anti-Fascist camp after 1946, the somber moods, dissatisfactions, and disillusionments result- ing from the view that the goal attained—the new Italy—was so different from what had been hoped for, were articulated in a variety of voices that reveal quite widespread feelings.15 How should we judge these voices today? Is it legitimate, as many of them seem to suggest, to speak of a betrayal of anti-Fascism? I think not, and I believe that this is a false impression, above all an erroneous perception of the reality and its limitations, which caused people to forget the new responsibilities that the return of freedom would have imposed upon everyone, including, perhaps, greater forgiveness of others and less focus on oneself, namely a modicum of mod- esty. These sentiments did not take into account the fact that Fascism had not been an invasion of the Hyksos—that ancient tribe that staged attacks marked by sudden appearances and disappearances. Political struggle had accomplished what it could, had removed Fascism as a power system and had given birth to new, free institutions. Now it was a question of imbuing those institutions with sub- stance, so that their formal foundation would be accompanied by and in tune with the country’s moral foundation. It was a problem of education, and not only in political terms. Like all problems of education, this was interwoven with social issues. In essence, what was required was a renewal of customs. A constitution, like every charter of rights, is a point of departure, not arrival. Beyond every legal guarantee and every affirmation of principle, for a political community to actually be free, its citizens need to behave like free peo- ple.16 Behaving like a free person, that is, like a responsible person, signifies wanting to think for oneself and knowing how to act according to one’s con- science; it is not a question of natural virtues. It is fully evident that after twenty years of Fascism, these conditions did not exist in Italy. But is it legitimate to won- der if, after 1946, these conditions were promoted? In other words, did the new ruling class, which was an expression of anti-Fascism, confront the problem of establishing material and moral conditions that would truly allow freedom to be exercised in terms of its rights and duties? In reality, if we now reconsider the cir- cumstances of that time, with the benefits of hindsight, we must gloomily

14. See, for example, Dino Cofrancesco, Sul gramsciazionismo e dintorni (Lungro di Cosenza: Marco Editore, 2001), pp. 24–28. 15. As, for example, in the pages of Il Ponte. 16. As Gaetano Salvemini wrote in “I coronamenti strutturali” [Structural accomplishments], in Il Ponte, March 1954, now in his Italia scombinata [Italy in disarray], ed. B. Finocchiaro, (Turin: Einaudi, 1959), p. 302: “If citizens—or a sufficient number of citizens—do not feel they have the right, and the resolute will to defend it for themselves and not allow it to be violated to the detriment of others, no legislation, no constitution, no structure on printed paper will save from servitude those who do not wish to live free.”

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 Winners and Losers in Italy 15

conclude, since the opportunity was lost, that it was precisely around the question of the country’s education, after the war’s end, that the anti-Fascist struggle was played out; and that it was proposed not in words, but in deeds, that Fascism might be overcome, not only in terms of institutions, which did occur, but also in terms of customs. The premises for renewal were in place, since economic reconstruction was relatively rapid and effective, so that the country soon experienced clearly improved material conditions. What remained unfinished was moral reconstruc- tion, precisely because there was a lack of the requisite sincerity for clarifying the uncomfortable past and the actual responsibility that lay with every segment of the national community. Fulfilling this requisite sincerity, an educational task, would have preliminarily demanded that two specific questions be confronted. First: why had Fascism been able to so easily tear down free institutions? The second ques- tion, which is closely tied to the first: why, despite its numerous acts of infamy, was the Fascist regime, until the eve of its downfall, able to enjoy such broad support? The urgency of coming to terms with one’s past, if one wished to overcome that past and move forward, depended particularly on the fact that, unlike other countries that were equally prey to dictatorships, Italy had experienced democratic institutions prior to Fascism.17 At the same time that these institutions were being restored, it was of primary importance, in order to assure their stability, to under- stand why they had proven to be so fragile in the past. Studying their origins, one would have had to have recognized that Fascism emerged above all from a situation, that is, from a totality of specific circumstances, so that it is substantially misleading to claim its success can be attributed to its deep roots. And while this situation in large part depended on the war and its outcomes, it was due, to an ever-greater degree, to internal circumstances. Without underestimating Mussolini’s unquestion- able political qualities, his success was owed above all to the actions of his opponents. After 1945, when the latter, while only in part reconstituted, returned to power, they would have had to have wondered about the errors that had been com- mitted by the parties to which they were heirs, in order to avoid repeating those mistakes; and they would have had to have wondered—if in the period after the First World War, free institutions had not been able to combat the assault of the Fascist movement—to what extent those parties had been responsible. But the principal political powers that appeared as protagonists in our revived public life showed no sign of this sort of salutary soul-searching. The so- called “liberals,” despite a memorable debate between Croce and Einaudi, didn’t know how to choose between the two,18 and there was a total failure to recognize the reasons why, even given the quality of his theoretical assumptions, the adjec- tive that would have most accurately defined Croce’s political position was

17. I drew attention to this very pertinent opinion of Salvemini in R. Vivarelli, Il fallimento del liberal- ismo. Studi sulle origini del fascismo [The failure of : Studies on the origins of Fascism], (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1981), pp. 5 ff. 18. The principal texts in Benedetto Croce and , Liberismo e liberalismo [Free trade and liberalism], ed. P. Solari, (Milan-: Ricciardi, 1957) (II ed. 1988).

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 16 OCTOBER

conservative, not liberal.19 Catholics, now gathered around the cross-emblazoned emblem of the Christian Democrat Party, had no idea how to distance themselves from the authority and interests of the Church, and indeed they made ample use of that institution to favor their electoral success, paying the price, both politi- cally and psychologically, for their acquiescence. Finally the Communists and their fellow-traveler Socialists, continuing to cultivate the myth of the Russian rev- olution and to extol the Soviet Union, gave a new lease on life, in new forms, to the extremist view that had been primarily responsible for the Fascist victory. In turn the question of people’s acceptance of Fascism must have provided a warning about both anti-Fascism’s actual margin of victory and, above all, the nation’s political maturity, showing how the values of democracy had remained extraneous to national customs. In the first case, one would have had to recognize the fact that Italian anti-Fascism had played only a small role in the fall of Fascism. Whatever one’s opinion about the events of July 25, 1943, whether it should be con- sidered the definitive defeat of the Fascist regime or, more narrowly, for prevailing elements that had supported the regime, the advent of a “Fascism without Mussolini,” the fact remains that those who promoted that change of scene had noth- ing to do with anti-Fascism.20 Even in late 1942, despite the state of the public mood, which (as far as we can know) was characterized by discontent and defeatism, because of disappointments about our military exploits, shortages and bom- bardments, discontent and defeatism were spreading, it cannot be said that there was any true opposition to Fascism, that is, any active dissent. At that time, moreover, people still calmly expected a possible victory on the part of the Fascist Axis, with contributions by men who would shortly thereafter be prominent figures in the Resistance: for example, Giorgio Bocca, Davide Lajolo, Giovanni Pirelli, Giaime Pintor, and Nuto Revelli, to name a few. Only when faced with a drastic reversal in the military situation, in reaction to the pressing events of war that made people see the defeat of Fascist Italy and as inevitable, did public sentiment undergo an increasingly rapid change, so that the day after July 25, most of the coun- try declared itself to be anti-Fascist.21

19. Regarding the relationship between Croce and liberalism, the essay by , Benedetto Croce e il liberalismo [Benedetto Croce and liberalism], in Id. Politica e cultura [Politics and cul- ture], (Turin: Einaudi, 1955), pp. 211–268, is still fundamental and, in my opinion, completely con- vincing, despite varying opinions that have appeared more recently. 20. See, for example, the unanimous agreement of Aga Rossi, Una nazione allo sbando, cit., pp. 71–72; and F. Etnasi, “25 luglio 1943. Fine di un ” [July 25, 1943. End of a duce], in Annali dell’Istituto Ugo La Malfa, (VIII, 1993), pp. 246–47. 21. An accurate description of the public mood between the second half of 1942 and the first half of 1943 appears in Renzo De Felice, Mussolini l’alleato 1940–1945 [Mussolini the ally]. I: L’Italia in Guerra 1940–1943 [Italy at war], II, Crisi e agonia del regime [Crisis and death throes of the regime], (Turin: Einaudi, 1990), pp. 720–777. Also see Simona Colarizi, L’opinione degli italiani sotto il regime 1929–1943 [The opinion of the Italians under the 1929–1943 regime], (Rome-Bari: Laterza, 1991), pp. 383–393; Pietro Cavallo, Italiani in Guerra. Sentimenti e immagini dal 1940 al 1943 [Italians at war: Sentiments and images from 1940 to 1943], (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1997), pp. 227–259. Etnasi provides a well documented analysis of the fact that it was only when faced with defeat that the Italian people converted to anti-Fascism, in 25 luglio 1943, cit., pp. 158–180; and see the opinion of Lepre, L’anticomunismo e l’antifascismo, cit., pp. 86–87.

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 Winners and Losers in Italy 17

Thus the chronology for the history of anti-Fascism cannot be edited, and a clear distinction needs to be made between those who, in prison, exile, or hiding— whether real or simulated, it matters little—were enemies of Mussolini and his regime, when Fascism appeared victorious (since the opposition paid a high price), and those who, instead, revealed themselves to be anti-Fascist only when Fascism already seemed doomed to defeat. And it was a defeat that, as I have already men- tioned, was not determined by Italian anti-Fascism, even after September 8, 1943 when, with the Resistance, this form of anti-Fascism was able to handle an armed struggle. At that point Fascism would have been defeated all the same, even if all Italy had remained united under Mussolini’s government until the war’s end. However this late anti-Fascism and the presence of its counterpart in the Republic of Salò, resulting in a civil war, lost sight of the fact that, for over twenty years, the history of Fascism and the history of Italy were one and the same, an admission that, however uncomfortable, was the reason why the entire nation had to seriously come to terms with Fascism and its legacy. Instead it was alleged that all the faults of Mussolini’s regime were summed up in the dramatic and very specific experience of Salò, as if Fascism had assumed power not on October 28, 1922, but only after September 8, 1943; and while the Salò militants, both in the immediate future and later, were judged with implacable severity, people preferred for the most part to mercifully overlook the deeds and misdeeds of all those who had actively participated in the life of the Fascist regime until the summer of 1943. The claim that coming to terms with Salò was the same thing as coming to terms with Fascism produced two negative consequences: it led people to believe that a geographically delimited civil war had sufficed to liquidate the legacy of twenty years of history; and it completely avoided the problem of consensus and its founda- tions. Since it was considered sufficient to have distanced oneself from Salò in order to qualify as anti-Fascist, a spontaneous legend arose about a majority of the country having been forced to bear the yoke of Fascism, but without participating in it and without bearing any responsibility whatsoever for it.22 This prevented people from taking note of or acquiring an awareness about the reasons that had favored Fascism’s capacity for seduction—reasons that were historical and, as such, made obsolete by the times, but also by reasons having to do with mentality and custom. The latter reasons, if unacknowledged and repressed, not only made the Italians still vulnerable to falling victim to new seductions, but above all prevented them from learning the rules of democracy and participating as free people in the life of their new institutions.23

Therefore the recurring opinion, that Fascism as such produced a crisis of national identity, is not convinc- ing; as long as promises of victory were credible, there was no sign of such a crisis. 22. See “The invention of an antifascist past,” in Lepre, L’anticomunismo e l’antifascismo, cit., pp. 99–102. 23. For this reason I continue to consider ’s lapidary definition of Fascism as the “autobiography of the nation.” This definition (in “Elogio della ghigliottina” [“In praise of the guillo- tine”], in La revoluzione liberale [The liberal revolution], November 23, 1922) obviously could not apply to Fascism as a system of power, which had not yet taken shape, and therefore must be understood as referring to the moral conditions of the country, which had allowed the Fascist victory.

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 18 OCTOBER

Fascism’s capacity for seduction, of which the Salò militants were still vic- tims, had found one of its strong points in propaganda. It had succeeded in quite effectively accomplishing its task, above all thanks to the contribution of intellec- tuals. We now know that the majority of the Italian intelligentsia had placed itself in the service of Fascist propaganda, and this presents some problems.24 It is not easy to say to what extent this enlistment occurred through conviction, and to what extent mere opportunism, but there is no doubt this was not a case of imposed discipline. Except in specific cases of extreme economic discomfort that deprived people of independence, Fascism allowed even well-known opponents to live in isolation; without caving in, other than sometimes offering formal homage, they could continue to carry out their professional and scholarly activities; exam- ples (with the exception of Croce, who is a case unto himself) include Piero Calamandrei, Luigi Einaudi, and Adolfo Omodeo.25 During those years, the innu- merable demonstrations of flattery and servility on the part of intellectuals, whether or not they were in full agreement with those in power, went well beyond the boundaries of necessity. One might add that there was no significant drop in this voluntary participation, even when, after the institution of the racial laws in the autumn of 1938, the mask of propaganda was no longer able to hide the dark face of the regime. The Fascist press, which took it upon itself to highlight the theme of racism in its propaganda, was able, no less than before, to count on con- tributions from some of the most illustrious Italian cultural figures.26 And so one has to ask: at the end of the war, what contribution could this culture really have made to accustoming Italians to democracy?

24. Among the many studies that are now available, I will limit myself to mentioning: Luisa Mangoni, L’interventismo della cultura. Intelletuali e riviste del fascismo [The interventionism of culture: Intellectuals and Fascist journals], (Rome-Bari: Laterza, 1974); Mario Isnenghi, Intellettuali militanti e intellettuali funzionari. Appunti sulla cultura fascista [Militant intellectuals and official intellectuals: Notes on Fascist culture], (Turin: Einaudi, 1979); Gabriele Turi, Lo Stato educatore. Politica e intellettuali nell’Italia fascista [The state as educator: Politics and intellectuals in Fascist Italy], (Rome-Bari: Laterza, 1992); Giovanni Belardelli, Il Ventennio degli intellettuali. Cultura, politica, ideologia nell’Italia fascista [Twenty years of intellectuals: Culture, politics, ideology in Fascist Italy], (Rome-Bari: Laterza, 2005); Mirella Serri, I redenti. Gli intellettuali che vissero due volte 1938–1948 [The redeemed. Intellectuals who lived twice 1938–1948], (Milan: Corbaccio, 2005). For an extremely well-documented picture of a spe- cific and important local situation, see Angelo d’Orsi, La cultura a Torino tra le due guerre [Culture in Turin between the two wars], (Turin: Einaudi, 2000). 25. Regarding the relationships between intellectuals and power, there is a great deal of useful information contained in two surveys: Angelo d’Orsi, “Intellettuali allo specchio nell’Italia fascista” [Intellectuals in the mirror of Fascist Italy], in Annali della Fondazione Luigi Einaudi, XIX, 1985, pp. 303–363; P.G. Zunino, “Musicisti e letterati nell’Italia del fascismo. Nuove ricerche, nuove fonti” [Composers and scholars in Italy under Fascism. New research, new sources], in Rivista Storica Italiana, XCIX, 1987, pp. 488–523. The case of Aldo Mautino (born 1917) illustrates how young people who did not care about drawing attention to themselves could, in the end, progress seriously with their studies, without agreeing with Fascism; see Gioele Solari, Aldo Mautino nella tradizione culturale torinese da Gobetti alla Resistenza [Aldo Mautino in the cultural tradition of Turin from Gobetti to the Resistance], ed. Norberto Bobbio, in Aldo Mautino, La formazione della filosofia politica di Benedetto Croce [The formation of the political philosophy of Benedetto Croce], III ed., (Bari: Laterza, 1953), pp. 1–132. 26. Serri correctly emphasizes this in I redenti, cit., pp. 14–15 and 66ff, which picks up the argument presented by Michele Sarfatti.

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 Winners and Losers in Italy 19

The problem was related to the very way the concept of citizenship was understood. Establishing a national community in an atmosphere of freedom sig- nifies forming a community of citizens, subjects with identical rights, all equally responsible for the common good. This was a task that liberal Italy was not able to fulfill. Fascism had repressed the problem, because it aimed instead to turn the nation into a community of followers, loyal and ready to take up arms. The regime did not want Italians to feel like citizens because, as in an army, the responsibility for command lay with the Duce, the one who held ultimate power and to whom obedience was owed. Consequently, the culture of the Fascist era was a culture that turned away from personal responsibility, because it took away a commitment to freedom of opinion—a freedom that was at very least inopportune, once deci- sions from above could not be challenged. Aimed not at encouraging reflection, but at gaining consensus, Fascist culture was a militant culture, and like every mili- tant culture, it was a culture that imposed conformity. The presupposition of a militant culture is that there is a state of war, it mat- ters not which one. It is a state of war that imposes a demand for discipline that impedes freedom. If one wanted to turn over a new leaf, not simply in political terms, but in terms of customs, it was necessary, after 1945, to close the books on the civil war and its divisiveness, and not to forget the past but, on the contrary, to con- front it as everyone’s problem. In order to perceive it as everyone’s problem, it was necessary for anti-Fascism to admit its limitations, recognizing that, despite the moral value of its contribution, it was not responsible for the defeat of Fascism. A deception prevailed. It was necessary to have people believe that Fascism had been conquered out in the open by the forces of the Resistance.27 No longer seen as a sad but true page in our national history, a page that related to all Italy, Fascism was thus reduced to the history of a faction, contrasted with anti-Fascism, which was equally reduced to a faction, where in the end, the element most radically hostile to the principles of a , the Jacobin spirit, necessarily prevailed. Within this insincere framework, the country, even after the war’s end, was condemned to remain divided. On one side were citizens who participated—how legitimately was of little importance—in one of the components of the winning faction: citizens in Division A. On the other side were those who were, in any case, outside the winning faction, and as such were relegated to the role of citizens of Division B. The good and the bad. And new pedagogues, intellectuals—for the most part the same ones who, until 1943, had been agents of Fascist propaganda—immediately put them- selves forward to reeducate the bad. On this basis, the moral reconstruction of the country immediately took a wrong turn. Having achieved its purpose, anti-Fascism

27. This explains the extremely harsh thoughts about the Resistance and the partisans that were repeated in Rossi’s letters to Salvemini, such as those of March 12 and June 12, 1945, December 24, 1946, February 23, 1947 (to Egidio Reale), February 24, 1955: Rossi and Salvemini, Dall’esilio alla Repubblica, cit., pp. 83, 99–102, 200, 229 and 788–780. It is clear that these opinions are unjust in their vehemence. Nonetheless they capture real aspects that have defiled that phenomenon: distortion of facts, factiousness, and rhetoric.

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 20 OCTOBER

could have become a value shared by the entire national community, but since its primary goal was already fulfilled, this was, in fact an outdated value. The new values around which the country would have to gather were now the values of its new insti- tutions, namely the values of democracy. “Everyone in Italy,” Salvemini wrote in a letter of February 19, 1947, “seems to have forgotten that freedom is not my freedom, but rather the freedom of those who don’t think of it as I do.”28 Very appropriately, this observation brought to mind one of the fundamental rules of a democracy—respect for others, and the right of all members of a democratic political community, without distinction, to have personal opinions, often dissimilar to current ideas. There is no compati- bility between freedom and conformity. Salvemini was in the midst of his final political battle, which, as has been justly emphasized, was once again a battle for democracy.29 In this, his final undertaking, one of his most loyal allies was Ernesto Rossi: Salvemini and Rossi—two anti-Fascists of proven character and, at the same time, two authentic democrats.30 What made them particularly similar and united them in this common action was what one might call a cultural assumption: both asserted the value of empiricism and, consequently, intolerance for ideological schemes that lead to judging things not on the basis of their functionality, that is, results, but on the basis of their presumed correspondence with abstract princi- ples and with goals that are distant but close to their own biases; and to judging people not for who they actually are, which is translated into their behavior, but rather according to where they presumably fall into line, or are deemed to be adversarial. It was a question of mindset. One might say that both Salvemini and Rossi, exemplifying this attitude, were equally averse to Hegelians on both the

28. See the letter to Mario Vinciguerra, ibid., p. 224. 29. Noberto Bobbio, Salvemini e la democrazia [Salvemini and democracy], in Gabinetto Scientifico Letterario G.P. Vieusseux—, Proceedings of the Conference on Gaetano Salvemini (Florence, November 1975), ed. E. Sestan, (Milan: Il Saggiatore), 1977, pp. 113–138. It is worth remembering that Salvemini’s first contribution to the Florentine magazine Il Ponte was “Il concetto di democrazia” [The concept of democracy] (January 1946, pp. 15–26), a text that, it seems to me, has never been repub- lished. In it he writes: “A party that is in power respects the rights of its adversaries only if it is per- suaded that they too in turn will respect its rights when they govern. In other words there must exist between the various parties a minimum of faith and reciprocal good will, the will to peacefully coex- ist . . . . That is, it is necessary to have some awareness of belonging to a community in which opposing interests will always be able to be reconciled as best as possible through free discussion and through compromises that do not create in anyone the feeling of being tyrannized or irreparable defeat. In other words, a democratic regime cannot exist if there is not a minimum of cooperation, even among parties that seem most irreconcilable.” (ibid., pp. 23–24). And again: “Fundamentally a conflict between two moral viewpoints lies behind the conflict between democratic and dictatorial philosophy. He who wants to tyrannize those who are weaker and who is ready to yield before a tyrant who is stronger than he, desires a dictator. He who wants neither to tyrannize nor to be tyrannized attaches himself to democratic institutions. The choice depends on the measure of respect that is felt toward others and toward oneself” (ibid., p. 26). 30. This led them to clearly distinguish themselves from their numerous friends in the Action Party, just as, earlier, it had led Salvemini to break away from Justice and Liberty and from Carlo Rosselli; see R. Vivarelli, Carlo Rosselli e Gaetano Salvemini (1977), now in Id., Storia e storiografia. Approssimazioni per lo studio dell’età contemporanea [History and historiography. Approximations for the study of the contem- porary era], (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2004), pp. 73–101.

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 Winners and Losers in Italy 21

right and the left. At that time, in a country like Italy, this sufficed to make them quite atypical, and this atypicality was the true substance of their democratic spirit. Norbetto Bobbio’s thoughts on Salvemini are still essential for understand- ing the close consonance between empiricism and democracy.31 Retracing the relationship between Salvemini and Rossi in the years after 1945, and following it through their quite lively and dense exchange of letters, one notes the bitterness of those who, once again, were struggling against the tide.32 And, particularly in Rossi’s letters, there are numerous comments about the public spirit and the observation that in Italy, while there was, indeed, a return to democracy, there were no democrats.33 Salvemini’s and Rossi’s main opponents existed on two different fronts: clerics and Communists. And it is sig- nificant that while the clerical front could boast only a modest anti-Fascist component, the Communist front was an integral part of the forces of anti- Fascism. For different reasons, both equally opposed the freedom of those who wanted to think for themselves.34 In fact, it is a rather partial truth, and therefore untrue, to say that after the war’s end the Communist party of loyally contributed to the birth of democratic institutions. In terms of govern- ment, this statement is admissible, but at the same time one cannot forget that both in their daily activities involving the widespread political education of the masses, and in terms of their quite well-programmed cultural policies, the Communist party made every effort to turn its militants into followers and by no means into free people, and to impose a culture, corresponding to an overview of the world marked by a rigid and dogmatic conformity. Clearly it was not a lesson in democracy that was imparted.35 Salvemini died in September 1957, Rossi in February 1967. We can easily say that both, in their attempt to educate people about the price of freedom, left the

31. Norberto Bobbio, “La non filosofia di Gaetano Salvemini” [The non-philosophy of Gaetano Salvemini], in Gaetano Salvemini nel centenario della nascita [Gaetano Salvemini in the centenary of his birth], Proceedings of the Round Table Held in Rome on 15 November 1973, in Quaderni del Salvemini, 15, pp. 12–26. Rossi describes to Salvemini, in a letter of March 11, 1945, that while in prison, in contrast to Riccardo Bauer, who was aligned with Croce and who Rossi described as “meta- physical,” he had assumed an “empirical” position: Rossi and Salvemini, Dall’esilio alla Repubblica, cit., p. 78. 32. See especially Rossi and Salvemini, Dall’esilio alla Repubblica, cit. For a selection of Salvemini’s writings from 1947 to 1953, Salvemini, Italia scombinata, cit., is extremely important. 33. See, for example, the letters of June 12 and November 4, 1945, March 20 and November 1, 1946, January 12, 1948, March 16, 1949, February 6 and August 5, 1953, and December 23, 1954, in Rossi and Salvemini, Dall’esilio alla Repubblica, cit., pp. 102, 111, 115, 181, 297, 439, 618, 658 and 755. 34. See Giovanni Miccoli, “Cattolici e comunisti nel secondo dopoguerra. Memoria storica, ideolo- gia e lotta politica” [Catholics and Communists in the period after World War II. Historical memory, ideology and political struggle], in Studi Storici, 38, 1997, pp. 951–991. 35. Two recent works add new and important documentation to what was previously known: Franco Andreucci, Falce e Martello. Identità e linguaggi dei comunisti italiani fra stalinismo e Guerra fredda [Hammer and sickle: Identity and languages of Italian Communists between and the ], (Bologna: Bononia University Press, 2005), and Maurizio Degl’Innocenti, Il mito di Stalin, Comunisti e socialisti nell’Italia del dopoguerra, (Manduria-Bari-Rome: Lacaita, 2005).

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021 22 OCTOBER

stage substantially defeated and remained so.36 But a distinction needs to be made. Beginning with the death of Pope Pacelli (1958), clerics gradually left the field. With time, the Communists also underwent their own metamorphosis and, while still maintaining some typical distinctive traits, much of their base ended up, along the way, becoming less ideologically rigid. The ranks of the steadfast unfortunately included the figure of the militant intellectual, who played a role that, among the Communists, had often been assumed by the same people who had learned to serve under the banner of Fascism.37 Masters of intolerance, their example soon gained a following. As for the fate of militant intellectuals in Italy, they remained and still are indomitable opponents of democratic culture, in part because of their propensity, as advocates of permanent civil war, to progress from militants to militiamen. Much remains to be said about how militant intellectuals, working under the banner of a now anachronistic anti-Fascism, easily transferred modes of celebrating their side and denigrating that of their opponents—modes typically characteristic of Fascism—but this is not the place to do so. I shall limit myself here to one concluding observation. Looking carefully at the years subse- quent to 1945, the fact that two men of the stature and character of Gaetano Salvemini and Ernesto Rossi cannot be counted among the winners eloquently confirms the ambiguous outcome of this troubled period in our history that con- cludes with the end of the Second World War, and illustrates how difficult it is, even today, to say who the losers and who the winners really were.

—Translated from Italian by Marguerite Shore.

36. The substance of this teaching is eloquently summarized in Salvemini’s essay, “La pelle di zigri- no” [Sharkskin] (, February 21, 1953), now in Id., Italia scombinatai, cit., pp. 231–242. 37. Renzo De Felicia’s observations (revived by Serri in I redenti, cit., p. 186), deserve consideration; with regard to those who easily moved from one side to the other, he points out “a notable basic cultur- al and psychological affinity and a continuity between former Fascism and subsequent anti-Fascism and and indicates not so much a cultural rupture as a persistent loyalty to a view of the world and politics.”

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/octo.2009.128.1.6 by guest on 23 September 2021