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SECOND WORLD WAR: 70 YEARS

WW2

Revealed: the Italians who worship Mussolini

He gagged the press, sent Jews to death camps and led Italy to defeat. So why do some Italians openly idolize Mussolini 70 years after his death, asks Angela Giuffrida.

Revealed: the Italians who worship Mussolini
Photo: Angela Giuffrida

Andreina climbs a ladder so that she can reach the high shelf where a dozen or so dusty bottles of wine stand at her restaurant in northern Rome.

She takes a couple down and proudly shows them off, not because they’re part of a vintage collection, but because they’re emblazoned with photos of someone she considers to be a hero, Benito Mussolini.

Alongside the bottles is a photo of the fascist dictator’s bed at Villa Torlonia, the Rome residence he rented for one lira a year, and another grainy image of him standing bare-chested next to a small crowd.

More visible to diners in the small restaurant in Rome are the collection of Mussolini calendars and other photos of ‘Il Duce’, the title he gave himself after dismantling democracy and making himself dictator, that adorn the walls.

Mussolini is one of the most reviled men in Italian history, but Andreina, who is in her 70s, doesn’t care that the shrine might deter or offend customers.

“It’s part of history, our culture, and I’m not changing it,” she tells The Local.

It’s almost 70 years since he was captured and shot dead by partisans, before his body was strung up with piano wire in a Milan square, but the spirit of Mussolini is still alive and well among some factions in Italy.

Mussolini led the country for over 20 years. During that time he introduced anti-Jewish laws, formed an alliance with Hitler, and sent thousands of Italian Jews to death camps.

He also gaggled the free press, had political opponents arrested and, in a bid to make amends with the Catholic Church after declaring himself an atheist as a socialist youth, tried to suppress homosexuality by sending gay people to internal exile on San Domino, an island in the Adriatic.

For the vast majority of people – including most Italians – this makes Mussolini one of the chief villains of the Second World War. Yet, extraordinarily, and despite his defeat at the hands of the Allies, some Italians like Andreina openly parade their admiration for 'Il Duce'.

“He made mistakes,” she admits. “But if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have gone to school. Things got done when he was leader. He built houses, stadiums and roads, he introduced pensions…before, you worked and got nothing.”

In a sense, it's the old cliché of the trains running on time, but it goes beyond that too.

Mussolini’s leadership “restored order”, Andreina insists, and “made the country stronger”.

Like many, she contrasts modern Italy's chronic economic and political woes with the supposed order of the Mussolini era: “Today Italy is destructive, we’re in deep trouble.”

Roberto Chiarini, a professor of contemporary history at the University of Milan, says the Mussolini admirers of today see him as a hero, and want to believe he “wasn’t that bad”, at least not as bad as Hitler.

People flock in their thousands each year to the Emilia-Romagna town of Predappio, where Mussolini was born and is buried.

Predappio Tricolore, a souvenir shop, does a brisk trade selling memorabilia, owner Pierluigi Pompignoli tells The Local, with “young people, not all neo-fascists, travelling from afar”.

“They’re people who’ve informed themselves,” he tells The Local by phone.

“They’re also fed up with an Italy they see as no good and where there is no more respect. A lot of young people travel here especially to find out more.”

The store has also managed to capture an online market through its website, which has everything from Mussolini mugs and key-rings to cushions and statuettes on offer.

Christopher Duggan, a history professor at the University of Reading in the UK, has written extensively about Mussolini and Italy’s fascist era. He also travels to Predappio several times a year for his research.

“It’s not all just 25-year-olds with shaved heads,” he tells The Local. “It’s average-looking families who have this vision of a man who helped make Italy great.”

Duggan says this positive vision is partly because Italy has still not really come to terms with what happened in the 1930s under fascism.

“Unlike other countries, Italy has never really squared-up to it. Any discussion on fascisms’s darker side has been mute or even actively repressed. It’s still very difficult to speak about it publicly, and it’s hard for serious academics to raise issues that might suggest that Fascist Italy was not morally much different from its Nazi ally.”

The rise in the number of Mussolini admirers has gathered pace since the mid-1990s, when Silvio Berlusconi first became prime minister.

His glowing rhetoric about fascism since then has helped to rehabilitate Mussolini, explains Duggan.

At a ceremony in Milan to commemorate the holocaust in January 2013, he defended Mussolini for allying with Hitler, saying the dictator probably reasoned it was “better to be on the winning side”.

He also praised him for “having done good” and said Italy “did not have the same responsibilities as Germany”. Last year, his Forza Italia party fought an ultimately unsuccessful campaign against plans by the city of Turin to revoke Mussolini's status as an honorary citizen of the city. All of this coincided with a campaign to denigrate anti-fascism.

“This has made people think it was positive,” Duggan says.

The hugely controversial role of the Catholic Church, with which Mussolini fostered good relations to gain strength and moral legitimacy for his regime, is also crucial in influencing how fascism is remembered.

“You can’t get away from the massive support for fascism from the Catholic Church,” Duggan says. 

Seventy years after Mussolini death, and with the church failing to lead by example and completely address its role in Fascist Italy, many Italians remain unwilling to recant their own support for Il Duce. 

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HISTORY

Denmark’s German refugees remember forgotten WW2 chapter

Barbed wire and tunnelling beneath it to go and pick flowers outside his refugee camp in Denmark are what Jorg Baden remembers most clearly 75 years on from World War II.

Denmark's German refugees remember forgotten WW2 chapter
A picture taken in 1945 shows German refugees accommodated at the General Motors assembly plant in Sydhavnen, Copenhagen. Photo: AFP

Baden's experience — a largely forgotten chapter of history — was one shared by some 250,000 fellow Germans interned in neighbouring Denmark following the conflict.

Between the ages of five and eight, Baden — now a cheerful German pensioner — was a refugee in Denmark, after his family and tens of thousands of his compatriots fled Germany as the Red Army advanced towards Berlin.

From February 1945 Denmark, then occupied by the Nazis, was forced to take those refugees, the majority consisting of old people, women and children, as well as wounded soldiers.

Mostly spared the fighting, the Scandinavian nation was Berlin's favoured destination for exiles.

The lion's share of the refugees arrived by boat, some of which were torpedoed by the Allies, across the Baltic Sea. They initially ended up in makeshift camps around the country.

After the May 5th “liberation of Denmark by the Allies, the Danish resistance realised that there were about 250.000 German refugees all over Denmark,” accounting for five percent of the population, John Jensen, historian at Varde Museum, told AFP.

Fearing the establishment of a German minority with too much influence, the refugees were gathered up into new larger camps or re-purposed military camps.

Exhausted from the journey and plagued by various illnesses, many refugees died shortly after arriving.

Some never received medical assistance as the Danish Medical Association recommended that its members should refrain from intervening.

 

“The common thought was if Danish doctors helped a refugee they were indirectly helping the German war machine,” Sine Vinther, historian at Roskilde University, said.

Between 1945 and 1949, when the last refugees left the country, 17,000 died, with 13,000 of those in 1945 alone — 60 percent of whom were children under the age of five. 

According to Vinther that is more than the number of Danes killed during the occupation. 

But even after the end of the occupation, Danish doctors remained hesitant to offer help.

“They could not get rid of their enemy image of Germans… Danish doctors failed their oaths in this period of Danish history,” Vinther told AFP at the Vestre Kierkegaard cemetery in Copenhagen, where more than 5,000 German refugees were laid to rest.

Jorg Baden was one of the lucky ones to receive help. At five years old he came down with diphtheria, but was hospitalised and treated.

“It was a critical time for many children, but I made it through,” the former English and history teacher said.

He recalled his family's hasty escape from Warnemunde in north Germany and the perilous journey across the Baltic to Haderslev in Denmark.

At the end of September 1945, they were transferred the Oksbøl camp — which would come to house up to 37,000 people, becoming the de facto sixth largest town in Denmark.

“We were first accommodated in horse stables which was very primitive… we had very little privacy,” Baden said.

“But my father was asked to teach mathematics… because of that we were allowed to move to a stone house where we had a room for ourselves, running water and flushing toilets which was a great step forward,” Baden, who is now 80, explained.

That was a luxury at the camp which allowed the family to live a “quite unspectacular and normal” life.

The camps were set up on the fringes of Danish society with the authorities aiming to “de-Nazify” the refugees.

 

“The general idea was to re-educate them to a more democratic way of thinking,” Jensen noted.

According to Vinther, the “refugees were almost prisoners.” 

“Danes were not allowed to interact with German refugees, the German refugees were not allowed to learn Danish or to talk to Danes because they were not supposed to get the feeling that they were wanted,” she said.

However, leaving Denmark took longer than expected.

“The Germans wanted to go back but they weren't welcome in the areas they came from, so the Danes had to negotiate with the Allied powers to repatriate them,” Jensen explained.

Jorg Baden and his family left Denmark for his father's hometown of Duisburg, where he had found work with the British army, in September 1947.

READ ALSO: How Denmark was liberated at the end of WW2

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