Postwar Italy and the memory of Fascist antisemitism

In the years immediately following the Second World War, the memory of the Shoah, and Italy’s role in it, emerged problematically for several reasons. Full awareness of the Shoah’s scope developed only gradually, and the Nuremberg Trials, held in response to Nazi atrocities, had limited impact on international public opinion (Cavaglion Reference Cavaglion2006, 29). In Italy, survivors’ initial testimonies often highlighted efforts to rescue Jews during the German occupation rather than Italian complicity (Momigliano Reference Momigliano1946). Additionally, memory of the Jewish persecution was softened by a broader ‘resistance paradigm’, which cast Italians in a redemptive role as they fought against Nazi-Fascism. This focus on the Resistance, still taking shape in early postwar years, fostered the myth of the ‘good Italian’ as opposed to the ‘bad German’ in both war crimes and antisemitic policies. Depicting Italians as victims of Fascism, forced into antisemitic policies against their will, served the narratives of both Marxist and Catholic circles. Meanwhile, Cold War pressures reinforced ideological divides, limiting moments of self-reflection on Italy’s wartime responsibilities. Conservative circles further complicated matters, promoting lenient interpretations of Italy’s recent past to avoid a confrontation with communism. Against the backdrop of these processes, significant weight was accorded to what Claudio Pavone defined as the ‘continuity of the State’, namely the transition of institutions and organisations from Fascism to democracy, which certainly did not favour an in-depth investigation of the widespread guilt of those who had collaborated with the dictatorship (Bidussa Reference Bidussa1994; Pavone Reference Pavone1995, 70–159; Collotti Reference Collotti1998; Rossi Reference Rossi2003, 89–93; Schwarz Reference Schwarz2004, 5–18; Baldassini Reference Baldassini2007; Schwarz Reference Schwarz2010; Cooke Reference Cooke2011, 67–81; Focardi Reference Focardi2016; Formigoni Reference Formigoni2016, 171–177; De Nicolò and Fimiani Reference De Nicolò and Fimiani2019; Focardi Reference Focardi2020, 153–166). Additionally, the Catholic Church’s limited self-reflection on its role in fostering antisemitism impeded a more transparent reconstruction of wartime events, a particularly weighty dynamic in Italy, where Catholic culture and Vatican influence were strong (Moro Reference Moro2002; Mazzini Reference Mazzini2012; Zanini Reference Zanini2012; Rioli Reference Rioli2017; Palumbo Reference Palumbo2020, 70–85).

By the 1950s, various publications had begun broadening Italian awareness of the Shoah, although the distinction between racial and political persecution was often blurred. Si fa presto a dire fame by former deportee Piero Caleffi and the pamphlet L’oblio è colpa, published by the National Association of Former Political Deportees in Germany in (ANED Reference Aned1954), were among the works that addressed the Shoah (Caleffi Reference Caleffi1954; ANED Reference Aned1954). Also in (ANED Reference Aned1954), The Diary of Anne Frank was translated into Italian, and in 1955 one of the earliest historiographical studies, Léon Poliakov’s Il nazismo e lo sterminio degli ebrei, was published (Frank Reference Frank1954; Poliakov Reference Poliakov1955). Alberto Nirenstajn’s Ricorda cosa ti ha fatto Amalek appeared in 1958, and that same year, Primo Levi reached a wider audience with Se questo è un uomo, reissued by Einaudi after its initial, limited release in 1947 (Nirenstajn Reference Nirenstajn1958; Levi Reference Levi1958; Baldini Reference Baldini2014). Cinema, too, contributed with films such as Il processo di Norimberga by Félix Podmaniczky (1958) and Gillo Pontecorvo’s Kapò (1959). A travelling exhibition on deportations inaugurated in Carpi (Modena) in 1955 also saw increasing public success. Its stops in Rome and Turin in 1959 drew large audiences, indicating a growing Italian interest in this history (Mostra 1959; Consonni Reference Consonni2015, 142–166; Focardi Reference Focardi2020, 166–171). However, these works still emphasised German over Italian responsibility, reinforcing the perception that Italian antisemitism was less severe. The Contemporary Jewish Documentation Centre (CDEC), founded in 1955, played an important role in challenging this perception (Bassi Reference Bassi1979).

These initial steps in documenting the Shoah in Italy coincided with a period of political transition amidst the country’s ‘economic miracle’. Tensions within the centrist coalition government sparked debate, especially within the DC, led by Aldo Moro since 1959, over new alliances. While some within the DC supported collaboration with the PSI with the aim of strengthening the popular base of the governing area, others preferred a more conservative stance, a view shared by various sectors of the economic, industrial, and ecclesiastical establishments. Amid this political climate, the neofascist MSI, under Arturo Michelini, sought greater institutional integration. In February 1959, a new DC-led government under Antonio Segni was formed, with external support from the Italian Liberal Party (PLI), the monarchists, and the neofascists. Although the neofascists’ support was not decisive, the situation nonetheless heightened concerns about the country’s potential rightward shift, a topic that loomed over the political debate (Crainz Reference Crainz2005; Forno Reference Forno2012, 157–166; Soddu Reference Soddu2017, 85–98; Formigoni Reference Formigoni2021, 57–65; Formigoni, Pombeni and Vecchio Reference Formigoni, Pombeni and Vecchio2023, 189–195; Ignazi Reference Ignazi2023, 88–92).

It was within this complex political context that episodes of antisemitism gained traction, thus becoming a focal point of political debate, intertwined with broader social discourses on Italy’s wartime past and national identity.

The continuation of antifascist resistance

In the final days of December 1959, the press briefly reported antisemitic incidents in Germany and the initial cases that had spread elsewhere, primarily in short articles on internal pages.Footnote ⁴ The coverage of the German cases intersected with that on Italo-German relations, given that Chancellor Adenauer’s arrival in Rome was scheduled for 20 January 1960, prior to Italian President Giovanni Gronchi’s trip to the USSR. As with many issues in Italian political debate, both domestic concerns and international factors played a role (Formigoni Reference Formigoni2016).

At the time, left-wing parties paid close attention to these incidents abroad even before similar acts occurred in Italy. That the antisemitic episodes took place primarily in West Germany, where a neo-Nazi party existed, was viewed through a Cold War lens, with some commentators emphasising the ‘Germany of Bonn’Footnote ⁵ and accusing Adenauer’s government of maintaining ties with Nazism.Footnote ⁶ Leftist newspapers highlighted figures in Adenauer’s government directly linked to Hitler’s regime, such as ‘Jew exterminator [Theodor] Oberländer, interior minister, Hitlerian general [Hans] Speidel, and racism theorist [Hans] Globke’.Footnote ⁷ This line was echoed by Gianni Rodari in Paese Sera. Footnote ⁸ Sergio Segre, a survivor of racial persecution and a communist partisan (Jesurum Reference Jesurum1987, 87–90), wrote in L’Unità that unlike East Germany, there had been ‘no self-criticism’ in the West, where the political and economic structures were continuous with the Nazi era.Footnote ⁹ In the same newspaper, Giuseppe Conato published investigations into the persistence of Nazism in West Germany,Footnote ¹⁰ while Carlo Casalegno in La Stampa addressed the issue more moderately.Footnote ¹¹ Criticisms of Adenauer often contained explicit references to his Christian Democratic Union’s (CDU) political alignment with Italy’s DC, thus merging international and domestic politics.

When the wave of antisemitism reached Italy, public concern intensified, with the topic remaining prominent in the press for days. Interpretations of international events through the Cold War perspective began overlapping with Italy’s memory of the Resistance against Nazi-Fascism, making this a dominant theme. L’Unità warned that ‘the remnants of Nazism and Fascism would like to raise their repugnant heads again’.Footnote ¹² Paese Sera featured testimony from Andrea Gaggero, a former partisan priest deported to Mauthausen, who recalled encountering Jews marked for death at the camp. He denounced the national reconciliation that had allowed fascists to resurface.Footnote ¹³ In Critica Sociale, Mario Berti discussed Italy’s responsibility for antisemitic legislation in 1938 and the Italian Social Republic’s (RSI) active role in hunting Jews during the Nazi occupation. Berti criticised the neofascists, who distanced themselves from antisemitism without repudiating their past, and highlighted figures with Fascist backgrounds in Italian institutions.Footnote ¹⁴ In Mondo Operaio, Piero Caleffi went further, asserting that Fascism bore great responsibility for embedding antisemitism in Italy. He argued that, while anti-Jewish laws were formally implemented in 1938, Fascism from its outset contained elements that led to antisemitism – a very advanced and anticipatory historiographical interpretation (Sarfatti Reference Sarfatti2018). These incidents, Caleffi warned, threatened not only Jewish people but the democratic fabric itself.Footnote ¹⁵ PSI Secretary Pietro Nenni expanded on this, identifying antisemitism as ‘a primitive aspect of the reactionary challenge to the values of modern civilisation’.Footnote ¹⁶

Other left-wing perspectives also attempted to analyse these developments. In Il Mondo, liberal-socialist historian Aldo Garosci, former member of Giustizia e Libertà and the Action Party (Pipitone Reference Pipitone2017), remarked on attempts to attribute these incidents to communists. Though critical of communism, Garosci argued that the ‘swastika epidemic’ primarily indicated a fascist problem. He suggested that this antisemitism stemmed from the failure of postwar arrangements that re-established the primacy of nation-states, limiting European integration to economic matters alone.Footnote ¹⁷ Alessandro Galante Garrone similarly examined the persistence of Fascism in La Stampa Footnote ¹⁸, while Giovanna Berneri, in the anarchist Volontà, condemned the presence of the MSI in many municipal councils. She also broadened the scope to include non-antisemitic forms of racism prevalent worldwide.Footnote ¹⁹ In La Voce Repubblicana, Tullia Zevi, then a correspondent for the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, published an investigation into religious life in the Soviet Union, noting the Soviet authorities’ assertion that antisemitism was not a state policy and was actively opposed.Footnote ²⁰ Aroldo Benini offered a historical perspective on Fascist antisemitism in Il Paradosso, tracing the academic, journalistic, and cultural support for anti-Jewish policies under Fascism.Footnote ²¹ In Tempo Presente, Elémire Zolla traced antisemitism to its earliest roots,Footnote ²² while Luigi Salvatorelli was among the few who linked the long history of European antisemitism to recent events in the Middle East, arguing that hostility towards Israel further fuelled contemporary antisemitism.Footnote ²³

These events intersected with debates on educational reform in Italy, an issue extensively covered in Rinascita soon after the ‘swastika epidemic’.Footnote ²⁴ Left-leaning educational journals stressed the importance of using education to combat antisemitism. Riforma della scuola argued for updated curricula that would include the past 40 years of history.Footnote ²⁵ In Il giornale dei genitori, no explicit reference was made to these events, though articles clearly reflected their influence. Primo Levi noted the success of an exhibition on deportations, interpreting this interest as indicative of the need for a new language to teach Fascism and the Resistance – something the school system, in his view, lacked.Footnote ²⁶ Another article (likely by Ada Gobetti) encouraged a dynamic teaching of antisemitism that would help students recognise contemporary racism rather than viewing it solely as a historical issue.Footnote ²⁷ The socialist Il nuovo ideale lamented, ‘Nothing has been taught to the new generations’ Footnote ²⁸ and published a collection of deportation testimonies.Footnote ²⁹ Similarly, in the democratic-leaning Il Giorno, Umberto Segre highlighted the importance of educating young people about the Liberation’s role in countering Fascism.Footnote ³⁰ Ferruccio Parri in the socialist Avanti! argued that the problem lay not only in school curricula but also in the teachers, many of whom lacked knowledge of the Resistance. He contended that antisemitism reflected deeper issues within Italian democracy, which remained superficial; for this reason, socialists had to work towards a more substantive democracy (Parri’s comment alluded to debates on the PSI’s potential entry into government).Footnote ³¹ Paese Sera interviewed young people in Rome, finding widespread condemnation of antisemitism alongside enduring anti-Jewish prejudice and ignorance about the war.Footnote ³² The communist paper advocated for educational initiatives, including television programmes, and published a detailed investigation, serialised over several weeks, in which Carmine De Lipsis examined far-right organisations with racist ideologies. Although these groups were marginal, the overall findings were deeply troubling.Footnote ³³

Ultimately, the antifascist press, by framing these antisemitic incidents as an ideological continuation of Fascist attitudes, not only condemned the acts but also emphasised Italy’s unresolved reckoning with its Fascist legacy. This perspective aimed to highlight a narrative that insisted on the continuity between historical antisemitism and contemporary political complacency, implicitly questioning the effectiveness of postwar ‘national pacification’ measures that had enabled fascist elements to re-emerge in Italian society.

Between anticommunist controversy and ancient antisemitism

The conservative press, which was numerically dominant and also an expression of a more deeply rooted widespread culture, initially took a stance on the antisemitism crisis that viewed it within the Cold War framework. This attitude was also reflected within the government itself, which ‘seems in reality to be monitoring the mobilisation of left-wing parties and antifascist associations more closely than the activity of neofascist and neo-Nazi groups’ (Bertilotti Reference Bertilotti2011).

Many newspapers espoused the theory that the antisemitic incidents were orchestrated by communists and the Soviet Union – a position not entirely baseless according to later historical analyses, though tenuous based on contemporary evidence (Scholz Reference Scholz, Friis, Macrakis and Müller-Enbergs2010). This interpretation was present in commentaries by La Nazione and Il Resto del Carlino regarding the West German cases, attributing them to East German involvement.Footnote ³⁴ The hypothesis was also advanced by the conservative journalist Massimo Caputo in Corriere della Sera. Footnote ³⁵ Il Secolo d’Italia similarly posited that communists aimed to provoke a reaction from the Bonn government, accusing them of undermining Adenauer through support of neo-Nazi movements.Footnote ³⁶ The MSI outlet argued that this was a calculated ploy to damage Adenauer’s standing,Footnote ³⁷ a view echoed by Candido, whose cartoon by Giovannino Guareschi depicted Khrushchev with a swastika-emblazoned windmill.Footnote ³⁸

Some conservative voices suggested that the communists, in fact, harboured antisemitic sentiments themselves. L’Ordine Civile, under Gianni Baget Bozzo, published a review of Léon Leneman’s La tragédie des Juifs en URSS (Leneman Reference Leneman1959), accusing the left-wing press of ‘alarmism’ to conceal Soviet antisemitism.Footnote ³⁹ Filippo Anfuso, a former RSI ambassador in Berlin and leading figure in the MSI (Setta Reference Setta1988), accused Italian communists of hypocrisy: ‘antifascists in Rome and antisemites in Moscow’, as he wrote in Il Secolo d’Italia, Footnote ⁴⁰ which frequently ran provocative front-page headlines accusing communists and Soviets of antisemitismFootnote ⁴¹ – a stance also prevalent among conservative circles in Germany at the time (Bergmann Reference Bergmann, Bergmann and Erb1990). Any suggestion that fascists were to blame was firmly rejected by Il Secolo d’Italia, which threatened legal action if the left persisted in attributing responsibility to the ‘responsible fascist leadership [that] operates in Italy in broad daylight’.Footnote ⁴²

To the right of the MSI, Ordine Nuovo, the magazine linked to the neofascist organisation of the same name founded by Pino Rauti in 1956 (Tarchi Reference Tarchi2016; Conti Reference Conti2023), downplayed the incidents, calling them a ‘fabrication’ by the left.Footnote ⁴³ Ordine Nuovo dedicated minimal coverage to the antisemitic wave, although it had espoused Julius Evola’s racist theories since its inception (Picco Reference Picco2011; Parlato Reference Parlato, Resta and Zeno-Zencovich2015a; Giannuli and Rosati Reference Giannuli and Rosati2022). Some on the right accused ‘Western Jews’ of hypocrisy, claiming they condemned the European incidents but failed to address Soviet antisemitism. Il Borghese’s editor Mario Tedeschi, a former RSI volunteer, argued this amounted to a betrayal of their Soviet co-religionists.Footnote ⁴⁴

Others portrayed the incidents as acts of vandalism or madness rather than a neo-Nazi resurgence. Three days after the Cologne incident, Il Resto del Carlino attributed responsibility to the German communists but cautioned against rushing to conclusions, citing the ‘teddy boys’ – a rebellious youth subculture blamed for disturbances in Notting Hill in 1958 – as likely responsible for the defacement of a London synagogue (Volpi Reference Volpi2019, 109–123).Footnote ⁴⁵ Giovanni Ansaldo, former collaborator of the minister and Mussolini’s son-in-law, Galeazzo Ciano, expressed similar sentiments in Tempo, warning against overemphasising the issue, which, he argued, could provoke negative reactions towards Jews.Footnote ⁴⁶ Articles in Gente and by its editor Edilio Rusconi similarly downplayed the events, claiming the perpetrators were not neo-Nazis but rather part of the ‘party of idiots’.Footnote ⁴⁷ Giorgio Pisanò, a former RSI volunteer (Parlato Reference Parlato2015b) and supporter of the theory that Mussolini was not antisemitic (Carioti Reference Carioti and Flores2010), described the incidents as the work of ‘reckless individuals’ without political ties, causing ‘unnecessary alarmism’.Footnote ⁴⁸ The decision to commit a young man with a swastika tattoo to a psychiatric hospital bolstered this narrative of the incidents as isolated acts of non-political disturbance.Footnote ⁴⁹

In Il Borghese, Alberto Giovannini, a journalist charged in the postwar period with advocating Fascism (Vallauri Reference Vallauri2001; Allotti Reference Allotti2010), minimised the issue, characterising it as mere vandalism inflamed by press sensationalism. According to Giovannini, the ‘swastika affair’ (he placed ‘swastika’ in quotation marks to suggest inauthenticity) was exploited by the left to foster a ‘victimisation psychosis’ intended to hinder conservative politics in Italy. He also noted Jewish involvement in early Fascism, aiming to demonstrate that antisemitism was absent in Italy, yet omitted any mention of the antisemitic laws and persecution from 1938 to 1945.Footnote ⁵⁰ In a later article, Giovannini argued that the 1938 antisemitic laws were ‘mimicking, albeit mildly, Hitler’s racial laws’, asserting that Mussolini was overly influenced by the reception he received in Germany in 1937.Footnote ⁵¹ Lo Specchio, a popular magazine aligned with the MSI, similarly claimed that ‘racism does not exist in Italy, it has never existed: the Fascist antisemitic campaign was more endured than embraced by the Fascists themselves’.Footnote ⁵² Similarly, in Oggi, editor Emilio Radius, also with a Fascist past (Murialdi Reference Murialdi1973, 113), argued that Italy’s Catholic traditions had prevented antisemitic traditions, suggesting that Italians helped Jews during the war.Footnote ⁵³ Edilio Rusconi in Gente acknowledged the antisemitic laws of 1938 but contended that they were unenforced, claiming no one persecuted Jews until the German occupation in 1943.Footnote ⁵⁴

This trend of self-exculpation, attempting to dissociate the right from antisemitism and to portray Fascism as non-antisemitic, was evident even in more reputable publications. Corriere della Sera’s Manlio Lupinacci cautioned against downplaying the severity of the current events, recalling that ‘those few words, before seeing them written on those walls today, we saw them written on too many sealed train cars’. Yet, Lupinacci also offered a revisionist history of Fascism, asserting that in Italy ‘there was never antisemitism’.Footnote ⁵⁵

Some right-wing publications revived past antisemitic sentiments in implicit ways. Il Secolo d’Italia accused communists of attempting to instil ‘pietism’ (pietismo) in Italians to discredit the MSI, which was reportedly growing in electoral support.Footnote ⁵⁶ The term ‘pietism’ held notable significance; it had been used in 1938 by the Fascist press to denounce Italians who showed compassion for Jews persecuted under the regime (De Felice Reference De Felice1993, 315–316). In L’Italiano, Claudio De Risio, associated with the faction led by former RSI fascist Pino Romualdi, accused ‘Jewish International’ propaganda of exaggerating Nazi crimes while ignoring other atrocities, notably those committed by the Soviets and other past civilisations. De Risio claimed the focus on Nazi-Fascist culpability was excessive and motivated by a political vendetta.Footnote ⁵⁷

Enrico Insabato, a noted scholar of Islam, wrote in L’Ordine Civile criticising the reaction of international Jewry to the antisemitic incidents, which he regarded as mere acts of emulation or vandalism. In his commentary on the World Jewish Congress meeting in early January, which condemned the Cologne incidents and urged the German government to act against antisemitism, Insabato spoke of a supposed ‘sense of racial superiority’ and interference by international Jewry. He suggested that the antisemitic episodes were orchestrated by Israel to encourage Jewish emigration from Europe as part of its strategy against Arab nations.Footnote ⁵⁸ This perspective reflected a cultural current within the Italian right, influenced by René Guénon and Julius Evola, that viewed Eastern societies, including Islam, as upholding traditional values against Western materialism. Evola’s concept of ‘spiritual racism’ resonated with these views, as did an anti-Israel stance that revived older European antisemitic stereotypes (Guénon Reference Guénon1924; Evola Reference Evola1934; D’Annibale, De Sanctis and Donati Reference D’Annibale, De Sanctis and Donati2019, 85–131). This oscillation between downplaying or denying Fascist antisemitism and reasserting antisemitic attitudes became a distinctive feature of Italy’s neofascist right in the postwar republic (Rossi Reference Rossi2003, 91). It is noteworthy that such references to the Arab world occasionally produced divergent interpretations. In Corriere della Sera, Augusto Guerriero suggested that the centre of the ‘swastika epidemic’ was in Egypt, implicating Arab ‘antisemitism’.Footnote ⁵⁹ Here, the focus was not on the Arab-Israeli conflict but rather on a Cold War-era view that equated Egyptian President Nasser’s ‘Arab socialism’ with Hitlerism, particularly given Nasser’s alignment with the USSR.

The conservative press’s framing of antisemitism as primarily a Soviet or Eastern phenomenon strategically deflected attention from Italy’s historical responsibility, promoting a narrative that cast antisemitic incidents as foreign provocations. This narrative perpetuated a selective memory that preserved Italy’s image as fundamentally ‘innocent’, distancing it from direct Fascist culpability while weaponising antisemitism within the Cold War’s ideological battleground.

Lack of self-awareness

Catholic culture, politically represented by the DC, reflected the broader divides between left and right. Conservative views, such as those in L’Ordine Civile, stood in contrast to more democratic, antifascist perspectives aligned with the Resistance. The DC leadership condemned the antisemitic episodes, although it remained committed to supporting its ally Adenauer and interpreting events within a Cold War framework. This response was further complicated by postwar Catholic reflections on the long-standing relationship between the Church and the Jewish community. Debates emerged over Christian responsibility for fostering an anti-Jewish culture that had long marginalised Jews in European societies and was seen as a prelude to the Shoah. In line with this, Pope John XXIII had recently removed the terms ‘perfidious’ and ‘perfidy’ from the Good Friday prayer, responding to calls within the Church to reform its stance on Jews – a change that revived divisions within the Catholic world (Palumbo Reference Palumbo2020, 132–139).

This complexity extended to Vatican-linked publications. L’Osservatore Romano, the official Vatican newspaper, attributed the events to neofascism and neo-Nazism,Footnote ⁶⁰ while Vatican Radio issued severe criticism on 9 January.Footnote ⁶¹ In contrast, La Civiltà Cattolica, the Jesuit journal, used the events to criticise communists for exploiting antisemitism for political gain. An article by Father Alessio U. Floridi cited Leneman’s work to remind readers of Jewish persecution in the USSR.Footnote ⁶² Later, Giovanni Caprile, a Jesuit scholar, documented the responses of Catholic leaders worldwide to antisemitic incidents, underscoring the Church’s distance from antisemitism by highlighting papal teachings, particularly those of Pius XI and Pius XII, against totalitarianism and antisemitic violence.Footnote ⁶³

Most Catholic newspapers approached the theory of Soviet involvement cautiously. Il Popolo, the Christian Democrat paper directed by Ettore Bernabei, mainly blamed the far right, affirming Catholic condemnation of the incidents while noting Soviet efforts to exploit the crisis.Footnote ⁶⁴ Although there were reports of left-wing arrests, these received less attention than in right-wing publications.Footnote ⁶⁵ The conservative faction’s magazine Concretezza, led by Giulio Andreotti, hinted at communist hypocrisy, stating that those protesting were sometimes themselves complicit in persecution.Footnote ⁶⁶ The DC magazine La Discussione went further, claiming that the leftist press ignored restrictions on Jewish emigration to Israel from ‘behind the Iron Curtain’.Footnote ⁶⁷ The magazine accused Italian communists of inflating minor Western antisemitic incidents while ignoring East bloc oppression, criticising Soviet leaders as ‘pharisaical’ – a term laden with anti-Jewish connotations.Footnote ⁶⁸

Similarly, L’Avvenire d’Italia questioned whether the swastika incidents merited scandal from communists who ignored the Soviet Union’s persecution of Jews.Footnote ⁶⁹ Without making direct comparisons, L’Italia recalled Soviet antisemitismFootnote ⁷⁰ and tentatively suggested a Soviet role in the incidents.Footnote ⁷¹ In a L’Avvenire d’Italia article, Lorenzo Bedeschi, a priest and antifascist historian, argued that excluding fascists from postwar democratic reconstruction had fostered resentment towards democracy and its symbols, including Jews.Footnote ⁷²

Even the Catholic newspapers did not reflect on the antisemitism of Fascist Italy but instead attributed the phenomenon to Germany. Reporting on a Jewish community event in Venice attended by Shoah survivors, L’Avvenire d’Italia referred only to ‘Hitlerian racism’, omitting mention of Italian complicity in denunciations and arrests.Footnote ⁷³ Moreover, the Catholic press did not reflect on the Church’s own long-term role in shaping anti-Jewish hostility. In L’Italia, editor Monsignor Ernesto Pisoni, a priest active in the Resistance, referred vaguely to ‘a very ancient evil’, yet stopped short of addressing the link between Christian anti-Judaism and the Shoah.Footnote ⁷⁴

Il Popolo featured contributions from prominent cultural figures, including the ‘No to Racism’ manifesto published on 9 January 1960, in which mostly Catholic intellectuals condemned antisemitism.Footnote ⁷⁵ Later, personalist philosopher Armando Rigobello advocated for teaching the Resistance’s moral rather than military dimensions in schools.Footnote ⁷⁶ In a passionate article that still attributed the crisis to the USSR, La Discussione insisted that Christians had been foremost in defending Jews, arguing that ‘our Christian moral conscience, after all, “naturally” rebels even at the mere thought of racial discrimination’.Footnote ⁷⁷

Within this mix of perspectives, a few figures called for a more critical assessment of Fascism. In L’Italia, Ruggero Orfei warned that anticommunism could not excuse the Italian public from confronting wartime history, hinting at the need to reconsider religious education in light of Jewish-Christian relations.Footnote ⁷⁸ However, L’Italia also published an article by theologian Giovanni Battista Guzzetti, who, reflecting on historical Jewish persecution, suggested ambiguously that ‘something in the Jews’ might have provided ‘a pretext for such aversion’. He distinguished between racist antisemitism, which the Church condemned, and a supposed merciful antisemitism, which he portrayed as protecting Christians from Jewish influence without malice.Footnote ⁷⁹ These contrasting views reflected the Catholic world’s internal divisions on the Jewish question, revealing a tentative but increasingly visible debate.

Overall, the Catholic press’s cautious treatment of Italy’s role reflects a tension within Italian society, where Christian Democratic influences sought to redefine Italy’s national identity while strategically distancing it from its Fascist past. This dynamic illustrates the selective approach to memory, often marginalising Jewish suffering as a peripheral issue relative to Cold War priorities.

Long-term consequences

On an international scale, the ‘swastika epidemic’ catalysed debates at the United Nations on racial discrimination. This began with the Sub-Commission on Prevention of Discrimination and Protection of Minorities meeting on 27 January 1960, where a document condemning the antisemitic incidents was approved.Footnote ⁸⁰ The process, alongside demands from the post-colonial world, ultimately led to the 1965 adoption of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (Loeffler Reference Loeffler2018, 234–239; Schabas Reference Schabas2023, 244–268).Footnote ⁸¹

In Italy, after January 1960’s intense debates, media focus on antisemitism faded, partly due to rising political tensions following the formation of Ferdinando Tambroni’s government in April, supported by the decisive vote of the MSI. The antifascist mobilisation against antisemitism evolved into broader political protest, capturing public attention for months (Cooke Reference Cooke2011, 84–86; Franzinelli and Giacone Reference Franzinelli and Giacone2020). Nevertheless, January’s discussions produced significant outcomes, notably the public’s overwhelming rejection of antisemitism. Gianni Granzotto in Epoca noted: ‘Never before had antisemitism encountered such total and indignant condemnation’.Footnote ⁸²

Paradoxically, the antisemitic episodes sparked new cultural activism within the Italian Jewish community, leading to an increased focus on Jewish history and persecution (Toscano Reference Toscano2003, 289–290). One major outcome was the Union of Italian Jewish Communities (UCII) commissioning a young historian to study Fascist antisemitism, resulting in Renzo De Felice’s landmark work Storia degli ebrei italiani sotto il fascismo, published the following year (De Felice Reference De Felice1993; Gentile Reference Gentile, Goglia, Moro and Fiorentino2002; Sarfatti Reference Sarfatti2004).

This debate on antisemitism also impacted parliamentary discussions, particularly on 25 and 26 January 1960 in the Senate, where representatives from across the political spectrum (including some Jewish members) recalled their antifascist and Resistance backgrounds. MSI Senator Enea Franza, amidst protests from antifascist forces, reiterated that Fascism was not responsible for antisemitic persecution, with the MSI willing to support a condemnation of antisemitism only if it excluded a denunciation of Fascism. Progressive politicians emphasised the need for greater awareness of antisemitism in schools, urging the government to update history curricula to reflect these issues.Footnote ⁸³ Such calls paralleled ongoing debates on educational reform and the implementation of the Constitution, which had once been a tool of the Fascist regime (Palumbo Reference Palumbo2024).

Notably, the 1960 public debate did not yet factor in the State of Israel as an interpretive element. Efforts by the Israeli government to link Israel’s identity to Jewish history, including the Shoah, had yet to gain full traction (Zertal Reference Zertal2005). This would change with the 1961 Eichmann trial, complicating the discourse on antisemitism with Middle Eastern politics (Di Figlia Reference Di Figlia2012; Tarquini Reference Tarquini2019; Palumbo Reference Palumbo2020). Nonetheless, on 27 January 1960, Senator Adone Zoli (DC), along with jurists Vincenzo Arangio-Ruiz (PLI) and Tommaso Perassi (PRI), founded the ‘Italy-Israel Association’ to strengthen cultural and political ties between Italy and Israel – a project reportedly accelerated by the ‘swastika epidemic’. The founding drew prominent members like the former President of the Republic Luigi Einaudi, the Resistance leader Ferruccio Parri, Piero Caleffi, and Ada Sereni, wife of antifascist Zionist Enzo Sereni (executed in Dachau in 1944) and organiser of illegal Jewish emigration to Palestine. In his address, Zoli highlighted Israel as both the Promised Land and a democratic bulwark in the Middle East, merging Christian theological views with Cold War politics.Footnote ⁸⁴