Neo-fascism comes to picturesque small-town Italy

 

Men outside Caffè Europa in the Roman hill town of Rocca di Papa.

We've always enjoyed watching the men (it's always men) in local bars, sitting around, playing cards, talking. It seems very communal, a good place for these apparently retired Italians. We were consequently horrified to see the small town where the photo above was taken, our favorite small town in the Alban Hills outside of Rome, identified by the New York Times this past week as a hot bed of neo-Fascism.

We had become inured to the fact that Giorgia Meloni, head of the Fratelli d'Italia party ("Brothers of Italy"), would become prime minister. For months the polls had shown her leading, even if her party received only about one-quarter of the vote. She made a pact with some other devils, including Silvio Berlusconi and Matteo Salvini, on her way to the top post in Italy. Salvini was rewarded with the position of Deputy Prime Minister and - get this and don't choke - Minister of Infrastructure and Sustainable Mobility (no wonder Italian Facebook went nuts over this Brave-New-World-speak).

We've also been keenly aware of the posters and graffiti around Rome that even decades ago promoted neo-Fascism. We wrote about some of these in our posts on posters and right-wing "heroes." (See here and here.)

What appalled us (and we can hear all our Roman friends going, "DUH!") was that our charming, special, sweet town voted 38% for Meloni's party, knowing they were reviving Fascism.

Are those men above likely Fascists? The New York Times featured the bar across the way, Bar Centrale. But my guess is, yes, you're looking at the right-wing there playing cards.

We had noted in a 2014 post a building we thought likely had been Fascist headquarters until after World War II. It's got the bulky look of buildings of that era, it's now a municipal building, and the date is obvious:  "A.D. 1935." One of our loyal readers, Marco, questioned that interpretation, saying: 

"I find it unlikely that the building in the photo may have been once the Party's HQ - not only the style is not Fascist in appearance, but the Fascist Era (Anno XIII E.F.) mark is nowhere to be seen on the building's façade, as are any remnants of chipped-away fasces one'd expect to find on such buildings."

He makes some good points, and perhaps we were wrong about the past (if there were some other factors we had taken into account there, I don't recall them), but there's no question about the present for Rocca di Papa.

One reason we favor the town is that it's the starting point for one of our best hikes, up Monte Cavo. In fact the photo we took, right, of Monte Cavo from the town, was taken from the now infamous (to us) Bar Centrale.

It's not hard to find men hanging out outside the bars or in the very large square that dominates the lower part of the town. (See photo below.)

From now on, we will have to listen more carefully to their conversations, though maybe we won't like what we hear.

Caffè Europa  is dear to our hearts because it's not only where we've always started (coffee) our hikes, it's also where we've ended (beer) them, and parked our scooter. The photo below was taken with our 2nd of three scooters (historically, not all at once), the foregrounded Malaguti, while the guys play cards, per usual.

That the town is picturesque is an understatement, and it's beautifully sited below Monte Cavo (see photo at end of this post). Its "shield" features the "rocca" or fortress - on the fountain that graces the top of the large square in the photo below. And the "Papa" is for a 12th century Pope who lived there (Eugenio III).

Another view below is from the cemetery, and in the distance the ruins of ancient Tusculum, a Roman town. Everything in Rocca di Papa, including the cemetery (and that 1935 building above) is on a slant, given its position on the steeply sloping hillside.

More in a later post on Mussolini and the rise of neo-Fascism.

Dianne

The town of Rocca di Papa, seen from the main piazza. The first phase of the hike to Monte
Cavo is getting to the top of Rocca di Papa via picturesque city streets. The mountain itself is straight ahead but is not visible in the photo. 

ELFO in Rome

 

As those who follow Rome the Second Time may know, the administrators of the website are keen observers of Rome's WALLS.  Over the years, we have learned a great deal about the city's politics, about its heroes and villains, its neo-fascists and do-gooders, its martyrs and activists.  

And so, when we landed in the neighborhood of Pigneto in the spring of 2019, we were pleased to find an area dense with posters, graffiti, wall art and wall writing. Much of what we found was familiar.  But not the word ELFO, which appeared in several places, sometimes simply as "ELFO," but also as "ELFO AMOK" and "ELFO AMOK/LF.LF."  A mystery to be sure: possibly the initials of a local activist, or those of an anti-fascist martyred in the "Anni di Piombo," the "Years of Lead," a reference to a decade of ideological conflict and violence, assassination and murder, that began in the 1970s. Another layer of Rome's political onion, peeled away.  

Alas, none of that proved to be true. As we later learned, ELFO (which means "elf," a mythical being), refers to the animated television series "Disenchantment," written and produced by Matt Groening (best known for "The Simpsons," whose characters also appear on Rome walls), which premiered on Netflix in August, 2018--just in time to inspire the person or persons who chose to celebrate it on Pigneto's walls.  

It's in the genre of medieval fantasy, and it's set in the kingdom of Dreamland. As far as I know, it has nothing to do with Rome.  Sorry about that. 

Bill 

Tor Bella Monaca: A Church, and a Shopping Center

Our goal in heading out to the Rome suburb of Tor Bella Monaca was to see the church of Santa Maria del Redentore, one of many built in recent years on the city's outskirts.  We weren't disappointed--more on that building in a forthcoming post--but having seen it, we couldn't resist poking around.







Tor Bella Monaca suffers from a bad reputation--something along the order of
Rome's armpit--and it's not entirely underserved.  But coming from rustbelt Buffalo, with a similar reputation that we know is overdone, we're willing to give any place a chance.

We found ourselves interested in, if not quite fascinated by, the big concrete shopping center across the street.  It was built in architecture's awkward period, between 1960 and 1970, when modernism was washed up and searching, and postmodernism, despite all its flaws, hadn't yet come to the rescue.







Concrete was all the rage--the structure participates in the beginnings of brutalism--and there's plenty of it here, softened a bit with playful--or what were once playful--curving awnings of plastic.

Appropriately for Rome, it's an open-air facility.  Just a hint of postmodernism in exposed overhead steel beams.











Nice views of the Colli Albani from elevated walkways beween the 2nd and 3d floors
.












Downstairs, on the ground floor, we found the standard array of shops, including a newsstand, but also a "New York City Industry" store, solidly plugged into American mythology, including Muhammad Ali.










Nearby, a pay-to-play park for the little ones--no kids present--and a seating area with large ashtrays and now-shabby wooden benches.  At one of the building there's a performance space, with rounded concrete seating.











We stopped for coffee in a bar--with tables outside, but under cover.  Asked about Tor Bella Monaca, the barista, a woman of about 20, replied that the community was a comfortable one that had "everything," or everything she needed, anyway.

Things got toney upstairs.  A 1960-style sculpture.

And, lo and behold, a legitimate theater, whose manager, noticing our interest, talked the place up. Tor Bella Monaca has everything.











For those entertained by graffiti, there's plenty of it, mostly the colorful, less offensive kind, on the center's exterior walls.  Those walls reveal, too, that Tor Bel Monaca has a neo-Nazi or otherwise right-wing constituency.  One script read, "E Neo Fascista/L'Uomo Sano [The Neo Fascist is the Sane Man], signed by a group called Azione Frontale [Frontal Action], whose sign is a fasce.  Rapinato/Ti Hann Umiliato/Ti Hanno Tradito" [They've robbed you, they've humiliated you, they've betrayed you]: "Popolo Italiano/Alza La Testa" [Italians, Raise your Heads"].  It's by a right-wing organization, Forza Nuova.  Raising his head, and leading the charge, is our own crazy king of right-wing paranoia: Mel Gibson.


Bill

The Story of Zippo

Free Zippo, with schematic fasce below

Zippo Libero/Free Zippo.  If, like RST, you walk the streets of Rome's outlying neighborhoods, you'll now and then see the words Zippo Libero written on a wall.  And Zippo is not purely of local, neighborhood interest. 

Zippo (right)

The 23-year-old young man was the subject of a well-atttended march on via dei Fori Imperiali, obviously undertaken with city approval, the marchers uniformed in white T-shirts decorated with the Zippo Libero slogan.  And on December 5 of last year, hundreds of demonstrators gathered in protest outside the Regina Coeli prison, where Zippo was being held. 

Siamo quello che Facciamo (We are what we do).
A CasaPound sticker attached to a light pole near
Stadio Olimpico. Looks like the mascot is
a turtle. 

Zippo, whose real name is Alberto Palladino, is a right-wing militant and activist, with ties to rightist organizations, including the Blocco Studentesco (Student Bloc) and CasaPound, which takes its name from the American poet Ezra Pound who, living in Italy and enamoured with Mussolini's Fascism, made hundreds of radio broadcasts citicizing the United States during World War II. 

1930s public housing in Monte Sacro

The event that landed Zippo in jail took  place on the night of November 3, 2011, in via dei Prati Fiscali, a major thoroughfare in Monte Sacro, a hilly, middle- and working-class neighborhood north of the Center.  According to the Carabinieri, who happened by that evening, Palladino was one of 15 men who, with their faces covered and armed with wooden clubs and "mazze ferrate" (iron cudgels) set upon five members of the youth movement of the Democratic Party (PD) who had just moments before finished with some postering--a common activity among political youth groups.  Four persons, all affiliated with the PD, required hospital treatment. 

Marchionne Infame (Infamy)

Palladino was identified as one of the aggressors by Paolo Marchionne, head of the PD in the Monte Sacro area (how he made that identification is not clear), and Zippo was arrested in early December, on his return to Italy from Thailand, where he was doing volunteer work. 

Zippo Libero March.

Despite the marches and protests, Zippo was convicted of assault and battery and in early July, 2012, was sentenced to 2 years and 8 months of house arrest (domicilio coatto) in Ronciglione, a town between Rome and Viterbo were he had previously lived.  At the sentencing, Palladino's mother confronted Marchionne, the only one who had identified Zippo as among the aggressors. 




CasaPound, which occupied a small building near the scene of the November 3 confrontation, claimed the arrest was "purely political," a reponse to Palladino's social activism.  The source of the identification--a political operative on the left--would lend credence to that claim.  Even so, an armed assault took place, 4 young men were injured, and Zippo, given his strong political convictions, may have been among those wreaking havoc.

Zippo Libero?  Maybe, maybe not.

Bill 
Two other posts on right-wing graffiti incude one centered in Piazza Vescovio and one generally deciphering Rome's walls.

A "Zippo Libero" sign makes an appearance among extreme
soccer fans (Ultras)

PRESENTE: A Close Look at a Tuscolano Poster

While spending a pleasant evening in the quartiere of Tuscolano, one of our old haunts, we--Dianne, actually--noticed a poster.  On the surface it was hardly unusual.  There were the standard signs of right-wing propaganda: the Celtic cross, the hyper-masculine body in marble, referencing the muscled, athletic frames of the statues across the city at Foro Italico (once Foro Mussolini) and, in the distant past, the glories of ancient Rome. 

Later that evening, and the next day, we saw dozens of these posters in Tuscolano, and for good reason.  As the very small print on the posters reveals, there is a time, a date, and a place at issue here: 7 p.m., January 7, Acca Larenzia. 

Acca Larenzia is a street nearby.  It was there, on January 7, 1978--as historian Paul Baxa explained on this blog--that a left-wing militant shot and killed two members of the neo-fascist Movimento Sociale Italiano.  The event, yet another tragedy of Italy's Anni di Piombo, is remembered today where it took place.  A plaque names the two victims (and another who died days later in the chaos that followed). 




The poster, then, commemorates an event that took place 34 years ago.  But it also commemorates the Italian effort in the Great War, fought against an entrenched Austria-Hungary enemy in the northeast of Italy.  One would think that the conflict would by now be long forgotten, or at least remembered in a neutral way.  But the poster reveals the emotional intensity with which that war is recalled and politicized, even a century later.  With the prominently featured word PRESENTE, the poster announces the military roll call, where each soldier responds to his name with "presente."  There is an additional valence to this word that we discovered only recently, as we explored World War I battles sites and commemorations. 

By any measure, the most impressive commemoration of the war is the massive monument and burial site at Polazzo, southwest of Gorizia, north of Trieste, and just a few kilometers from Monte San Michele, where thousands of Italian soldiers died in a critical and much-acclaimed battle on the rocky reaches of the Carso massif. 

The monument was designed and constructed by Mussolini's Fascist regime in the late 1920s  Above the tombs, repeated hundreds of times as the monument rises on the Carso--honoring those who fought, critical of those who did not, emphasizing the duty and privilege of combat, inspiring the Fascists of the twenties and the neo-fascists of  today's Rome--is the word PRESENTE.   

Bill