It is Liberation Day in Italy today, the day when the Italian Republic celebrates the downfall of Fascism after World War II.
Italians have deep experience with Fascism. It was invented there, after all – the bastard child of nationalism and totalitarianism foisted off on the civilized world by a guy who had failed in pretty much every other aspect of his life and who would end his days strung up by his ankles in a public square in Milan as a warning to others, a warning that would have been good for us to heed.
Because like everywhere else in the western world Italy has seen a resurgence of Fascism in recent years. People have short memories and overgrown grievances and feel entitled to take those out on people they hate, and we here in the US do not hold any particular moral high ground in this regard. Despite sacrificing over 400,000 lives and a vast amount of wealth and equipment to help the Allies achieve the destruction of Fascism back in 1945 a large portion of the American population seems to be all too happy to see resurrected it here at home these days.
My ancestors fought in that war. They were given medals for shooting Fascists, in fact. I suspect they’d be infuriated to see what has happened here over the last decade and they’d have every right to be.
WWII has largely faded into a set piece of old movies and mythology these days, with the lessons of the war ignored by the powerful and their slaves. We forget these lessons at our peril, and it will be a long time before we recover from the current degradation.
Italy, though, has an entire holiday dedicated to not forgetting the fall of Fascism and what that meant for the country. They remember it, and this makes Italians better prepared than we are in the US.
I belong to a couple different social media groups connected to my genealogical researches, including several tied to Ruoti – the hilltop town in Basilicata where my great-grandparents were born. One of them posted this in honor of the day:
Italians have deep experience with Fascism. It was invented there, after all – the bastard child of nationalism and totalitarianism foisted off on the civilized world by a guy who had failed in pretty much every other aspect of his life and who would end his days strung up by his ankles in a public square in Milan as a warning to others, a warning that would have been good for us to heed.
Because like everywhere else in the western world Italy has seen a resurgence of Fascism in recent years. People have short memories and overgrown grievances and feel entitled to take those out on people they hate, and we here in the US do not hold any particular moral high ground in this regard. Despite sacrificing over 400,000 lives and a vast amount of wealth and equipment to help the Allies achieve the destruction of Fascism back in 1945 a large portion of the American population seems to be all too happy to see resurrected it here at home these days.
My ancestors fought in that war. They were given medals for shooting Fascists, in fact. I suspect they’d be infuriated to see what has happened here over the last decade and they’d have every right to be.
WWII has largely faded into a set piece of old movies and mythology these days, with the lessons of the war ignored by the powerful and their slaves. We forget these lessons at our peril, and it will be a long time before we recover from the current degradation.
Italy, though, has an entire holiday dedicated to not forgetting the fall of Fascism and what that meant for the country. They remember it, and this makes Italians better prepared than we are in the US.
I belong to a couple different social media groups connected to my genealogical researches, including several tied to Ruoti – the hilltop town in Basilicata where my great-grandparents were born. One of them posted this in honor of the day:
What’s particularly lovely about that photo is that the short house on the right is the one where my great-grandmother was born in 1870. I’ve stood in the street in front of it. Another family lives there now, of course, but it was still an experience I’ll treasure.
My great-grandparents left Ruoti for Philadelphia long before Fascism reared its head in Italy. Their son, my grandfather, spent WWII as a machinist in the Philadelphia Navy Yard, and their nephews fought in Europe. And when the war ended they celebrated.
But the fight against Fascism is never permanently won. It must be fought every day, by every generation, in every place where it might reappear.
“You don’t fight Fascists because you’re guaranteed to win,” said John Cusack. “You fight Fascists because they are Fascists, and the people of the world have memory, and they know where these stories end.”
Buon 25 Aprile, compagni!
No comments:
Post a Comment