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    Fascism and Peace: Incompatible or Inseparable?

    For Benito Mussolini, life was an eternal struggle. Shaped by a social Darwinist worldview and following Georges Sorel’s philosophy of the virtue of violence, Il Duce (the leader), as Mussolini was known, regarded war as men’s essential purpose in life. It was through war that he intended to revolutionize Italian society and politics, destroy Italian vices like corruption, regionalism and individualism, and create the “new man” — a masculine, athletic peasant-soldier. Il Duce was convinced that “the character of the Italians must be forged in combat.”

    However, in January 1940, he confessed to his son-in-law and then-foreign minister, Galeazzo Ciano, that so far he had failed in this task: “Have you ever seen a lamb become a wolf? The Italian people is a race of sheep. Eighteen years is not enough to change them. It takes a hundred and eighty years or maybe a hundred and eighty centuries.”

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    However, it is not only Mussolini’s militaristic and violent rhetoric that put violence, war and struggle at the core of fascism. Il Duce and the fascist regime also followed up with violent action. Whether it was the bloody clashes between the fascist blackshirts and the Socialists in the 1920s, the brutal oppression of native rebellions in Libya in the 1920s and 1930s, the war crimes in Ethiopia or the atrocities committed during the Second World War, violence and war were fundamentally linked to the history of fascism. It is then not surprising that scholars who have attempted to define fascism emphasize the violent characteristics in an effort to capture the essence of the only “genuine ideology” of the 20th century, as Mussolini proudly called it in 1932.

    A Mutilated Victory

    Thus, the question arises: Where does “peace” fit in? Or was “peace” totally alien to fascist thinking and ideology? According to Johan Galtung, the founder of the Peace Research Institute Oslo, we can distinguish between a “positive” and a “negative peace.” Whereas the former refers to a constructive resolution of conflict and the creation of a social and political system that serves the needs of everybody, the latter refers to the absence of violence. How did fascists perceive a positive peace as promoted by Western democracies and new institutions such as the League of Nations after World War I? Did fascists’ long-term plans entail references to peace — at least in the sense of Galtung’s negative peace?

    Thomas Nipperdey began his history on 19th century Germany with the now famous words: “At the beginning was Napoleon.” When analyzing Italian fascism’s relationship to peace, one could make a similar statement: At the beginning was World War I. A majority of fascists, including Mussolini, Dino Grandi and Achille Starace, were staunch interventionists who were totally disappointed and appalled by the outcome of the Paris Peace Conference. They regarded the treaties as a betrayal to their own war commitment and perceived them as unjust terms that were forced onto Italy by Great Britain and France. When referring to these agreements, they commonly used the words “mutilated victory,” a slogan coined by Italian nationalist and poet Gabriele D’Annunzio.

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    When assessing the slogan’s devastating consequences for Italy’s political scene, it can only be compared with the infamous German Dolchstosslegende — the stab-in-the-back myth used by the German far right (including the National Socialists) against the Weimar Republic. On the one hand, Italian fascists used the mutilated victory myth against Italian liberals, whom they blamed for a failed negotiation strategy in Paris and consequently labeled traitors to the Italian nation. On the other hand, it was used to attack Western democracies accused of trying to stop Italy from taking its rightful place on the international stage.

    Interestingly, the phrase itself exposes the fascists’ preference for martial rhetoric. Instead of using the term “peace treaties,” the slogan “mutilated victory” implies an ongoing struggle as well as powerfully evoking those who returned from the war wounded. These soldiers who sacrificed themselves for the greater good of their fatherland had been shamefully betrayed by both Western democracies and liberal Italian politicians. Therefore, it is not surprising that one of the main goals of Italian fascism was to seek a revision of the postwar peace order and thus turn a “mutilated victory” into a “true victory” for Italy.

    The Rejection of Peace

    The fascists’ attitude toward the Paris Peace Treaties is just one example that illustrates their overall stance toward the peaceful order democracies sought to create following World War I. In 1932, when the regime in Rome celebrated its 10-year anniversary, the government published the “Doctrine of Fascism,” written mainly by Benito Mussolini and Giovanni Gentile. It contained one of the rare references to peace in an official government document, stating: “Fascism does not … believe in the possibility or utility of perpetual peace. It therefore discards pacifism as a cloak for cowardly supine renunciation in contradistinction to self-sacrifice. … War alone keys up all human energies to their maximum tension and sets the seal of nobility on those peoples who have the courage to face it.”  

    This rejection of peace was not solely confined to the international arena; it also applied to domestic politics. The government attempted to infuse this anti-pacifistic attitude, which became a guiding doctrine for the fascists’ social and political agenda, into the every-day life of its citizens. The Italian new man was meant to embrace a fighting spirit, accept all kinds of risks and should not shy away from self-sacrifice. This concept of life mirrored the philosophy of Futurists such as Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, who intended, as he outlined in his “Futurist Manifesto” of 1919, “to sing the love of danger, the habit of energy and fearlessness” and embraced “courage, audacity and revolt.”

    This concept of life stood in contrast to the bourgeois lifestyle, which the fascists rejected as individualistic, feminine and weak. A bourgeois society, according to fascist doctrine, was only able to survive if it created what fascism despised the most: long-lasting peace. For Mussolini, the embodiment of such a society was Great Britain. He explained to Ciano that he had “studied the different generations of the English people. He observed that 22 million men faced 24 million women and that 12 million citizens were over 50 years old and thus have crossed the line of belligerent desires. Consequently, the static masses dominated the youthful-dynamic ones. That means: quiet life, ready for compromises, peace.” Compromise and peace, however, were, in the fascist worldview, obvious signs of weakness, cowardice and decay.

    This quote leads to a final point. Whether in domestic affairs or in international politics, fascists rejected any kind of status quo. They defined their movement as dynamic, led by a charismatic leader who was energetic and powerful and always moving forward. Mussolini himself, portrayed as the nation’s soldier number one and a reincarnation of the condottiere — a leader of mercenaries in Renaissance Italy — claimed that he was born to never let the Italian people rest. A positive peace, however, would maintain and safeguard a certain status quo and thus undermine the fascists’ constructed self-image of a dynamic movement. Robert Paxton argues that a fascist movement must constantly renew itself and challenge the status quo. If it fails to do so, it turns into a normal form of dictatorship. Thus, one could conclude that if a fascist regime accepts a positive peace, it has ceased to exist.

    Is peace, therefore, just another area where we could define fascism as an essential anti-movement? Such a conclusion, however, would be too simple. Historian Roger Griffin convincingly argued that it would be misleading to understand fascism purely as an anti-movement. On the contrary, fascists seduced the masses by promoting the idea of the rebirth of the nation, coined by Griffin as a form of palingenetic ultra-nationalism. Fascists were not nihilists by nature but wanted to create a brighter, better future for the nation by leading it out of whatever crisis it currently faced, which, in turn, means manufacturing a crisis if none can be found.

    *[Fair Observer is a media partner of the Centre for Analysis of the Radical Right.]

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    Of Hobbits and Tigers: The Unlikely Heroes of Italy’s Radical Right

    June 23, 1980: After the assassination of magistrate Mario Amato by Italian right-wing terrorists, an anonymous group published a leaflet endorsing the murder:

    “To the members of the ‘Great Fascist Organizations’ we say: Fuck off, you never achieved anything and never will; … you are idiots and sheep. … Our task is to find comrades, if need be, to create them. CREATE ARMED SPONTANEITY. We end this document by telling those who charge us with not being ‘political enough’ that we are not interested in their politics, only in the struggle, and in the struggle, there is precious little room for talking. … To him who needs a hand, we will give it, and it will be bullets for those who go on polluting our youth, preaching wait-and-see and the like.”  

    What distinguishes this flyer from other statements by right-wing terrorists is not its vulgar language or pseudo-sophisticated argument for a palingenetic rebirth of Italy, but rather the fact that it embodies key characteristics that would come to define a new form of right-wing terrorism that emerged and operated in Italy from the mid-1970s until the early 1980s. Although the number of right-wing terrorist attacks massively increased during this period, scholars have traditionally focused on the left-wing terrorism of the Red Brigades or the so-called strategy of tension in the early 1970s that saw the bombing at the Piazza Fontana in Milan in 1969 or the Italicus massacre of 1974.

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    This new form of terrorism emerged foremost as a youth rebellion against Italy’s “old right” in a situation when they faced further marginalization within Italian society and politics. In the attempt to restore their self-esteem and their damaged masculinity, a younger generation found justification for a “heroic” crusade against the modern world in the texts of the British writer and linguist J.R.R. Tolkien and the Italian philosopher Julius Evola.

    Far From Dead

    In December 1946, the neo-fascist Italian Social Movement (MSI) was created and enjoyed rapid success in regional and national elections. To increase its political influence, the party hierarchy collaborated with the ruling Christian Democrats as early as 1954. However, radicals like Pino Rauti and Stefano Delle Chiaie questioned the party’s legalistic approach and founded extra-parliamentary groups such as New Order (ON) and National Vanguard (AN). Due to their ideological and personnel continuity, these groups linked the 1940s with the terrorist groups of the 1970s, which became involved in what later became known as the strategy of tension.

    Already in 1972, the failure of the strategy of tension was obvious. Rather than leading to a decline of the left, the destabilized public order was exploited by the communist and socialist parties. In the mid-1970s, the political right came under further pressure when right-wing groups such as ON were banned, and left-wing terrorism began to rise. However, right-wing terrorism in Italy was far from dead.

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    In 1976, right-wing terrorists killed State Attorney Vittorio Occorsio, officially launching a new phase that saw nearly 1,200 terrorist acts committed between 1976-1980. Among the victims were members of left-wing organizations, so-called traitors and, for the first time, state officials. The perpetrators of the strategy of tension deliberately avoided attacking representatives of the state, in particular of the security apparatus as they were regarded more as allies than as enemies. But now, they were among the preferred targets of right-wing terrorists.

    The majority of those responsible for these attacks were short-lived groups or individual perpetrators — what people today might call lone wolf terrorists. In addition, we find organizations that existed for a longer time period even if their structure was also informal, including Armed Revolutionary Nuclei and Third Position. But what caused the shift within the right-wing terrorist scene in the mid-1970s?

    To better understand the internal changes and dynamics, we have to look at the socio-political framework, especially the cultural situation within the far-right scene. Since the early 1970s, the growing influence of the left in society, politics and the extremist milieu added to a feeling of marginalization among younger radicals, most of them born after 1955, having no ties to the roots of Italian fascism. To overcome this apparent crisis, they pleaded for a radical change of ideology and tactics.

    Led by nonconformist intellectuals like Marco Tarchi, they accused the MSI of being a corrupt party lacking the energy necessary for a revolution. They criticized the rigid hierarchy that had prevented the youth from becoming more involved and characterized the covert terrorist activities and the coup attempts during the strategy of tension years as both misguided and as the reason for the increasing marginalization of the right.

    The charge against MSI’s establishment was led by the satirical journal The Voice of the Sewer, founded by Tarchi in 1974 in Paris. Heavily influenced by the French New Right, the journal used comics and texts to question the actions of Italy’s “old right” and their obsession with nostalgia and tradition. Tarchi, who would become the leader of the MSI youth group Youth Front, wanted to “rejuvenate” the political and cultural debate within the Italian right by looking to the left for inspiration.

    Middle-Earth in Italy

    The scope of this iteration of Italy’s New Right was first demonstrated at the Campo Hobbit festival in June 1977 in Montesarchio, which was organized by Tarchi’s Youth Front and named after Tolkien’s fantasy novel “The Hobbit.” Despite the party leadership’s opposition, the festival drew over 3,000 people and imbued the younger right-wing extremists with a new feeling of strength toward a hostile society and an anachronistic neo-fascist party. Concrete political objectives were rejected and replaced by abstract values such as courage, heroism and, above all, comradeship.

    For the festival organizers and attendants, Tolkien’s fantasy novels served as a metaphor for their rejection of the modern world and their longing for a future that was better than any historical allegory. They perceived themselves as the heroes of Tolkien imagined Middle-earth, fighting against all odds for the betterment of the contemporary world. As Generoso Simeone, one of the organizers, stated: “Looking to the future, let us evoke from Tolkien’s fairy tales those images that enrich our imagination … We are inhabitants of the mythical Middle-earth, also struggling with dragons, orcs, and other creatures.” To express their attachment to Tolkien’s stories, which were deeply rooted in Germanic and old English legends, the Celtic cross became the new symbol of the Youth Front.

    While festivalgoers were able to purchase a variety of books written by, amongst others, Robert Brasillach, Ezra Pound, Pierre Drieu la Rochelle, Oswald Spengler and Julius Evola, the musical performances were the real attraction given that music was considered the most important and efficient form of expression in right-wing counterculture. One highlight was the performance of the right-wing alternative band Compagnia dell’Anello (Fellowship of the Ring). For the occasion of the festival, several far-right musicians, including Mario Bortoluzzi, joined forces and created the band, which was named after the first book in Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings” trilogy.

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    Their most famous song, “Il domani appartiene a noi” (“Tomorrow Will Belong toUs”), was a rallying cry to fight together for freedom and a better tomorrow against the forces of “darkness” and ultimately became the hymn of the neo-fascist Youth Front.

    The Hobbit Camps, which took place 1977, 1978, 1980 and 1981, also featured theater, poetry and cabaret shows, art exhibitions as well as debates about issues like ecology, health and housing shortages. By including these traditionally leftist topics, the organizers intended to attract the leftist youth and start a dialogue with their former enemies. Through their engagement and willingness to incorporate these themes and types of events they sought to break out of cultural and social marginalization.

    Their effort to establish contact with their counterparts on the left can also be noted in their leverage of Tolkien’s reputation. In many Western countries, the British writer was associated with leftist student protests, and “The Lord of the Rings” became the “Bible of the hippies.” In Italy, however, his work became associated with the far right thanks to the preface philosopher Elémire Zolla wrote for the first Italian edition in 1970. In contrast to Tolkien, who rejected any deeper contemporaneous meaning of his book, Zolla argued that the myths of “The Lord of the Rings’” represented a perennial philosophy that must be viewed as an outright rejection of the modern world.

    Given Tolkien’s sociopolitical background, Zolla’s interpretation was not too far-fetched. Tolkien was a conservative writer, whose political and social ideas were grounded in a Catholic worldview that developed in opposition to the Anglican Church. He harbored skeptical opinions of economic and technological progress, both for the risk it poses to the human soul and for the damage it causes to its environment. Tolkien rejected socialism, Nazism and American capitalism and saw history as a long defeat. However, he still had hope. He identified among Western culture a strong romantic chivalric tradition of heroism and sacrifice, which would ultimately help to “turn the ship” around.

    Of course, not everyone who loved Tolkien’s fantasy novels or who attended the Hobbit Camps would ultimately turn to terrorism. Those who did would usually look for other texts to justify their path to violence. One of their favorite writers was the Italian philosopher Julius Evola. In particular, his works “Revolt Against the Modern World,” “Orientations” and “Riding the Tiger: A Survival Manual for the Aristocrats of the Soul” became standard reading among the New Right in both Italy and France.

    The Tigers

    Julius Evola, who died in 1974, became a guru-like figure for the radical youth looking for guidance while lost in the mythical lands of Middle-earth. First, Evola never joined a political party despite his well-known affinity with Italian fascists, the National Socialists and members of the Romanian Iron Guard. He called Benito Mussolini’s 1922 March on Rome a “caricature of a revolution” and rejected the Italian fascist regime as too populistic and devoid of any spirituality.

    Consequently, he heavily criticized the MSI’s nostalgia and its failure to create a unique ideology that embraced Evola’s own pagan and spiritual ideas. It was this uneasy relationship between Evola and the MSI that made him an ally of the disorientated radical youth who felt betrayed and abandoned by the party. Nevertheless, the MSI tried to benefit from Evola’s popularity with the younger generation, calling him “our Marcuse (only better).”

    Second, his ideology was abstract and frequently vague. He blended several schools of traditions, including Buddhism, eastern dogmas, Rene Guenon’s traditionalism and concepts of the German Konservative Revolution of the interwar period. This conglomerate of various ideologies and strands of far-right thinking attracted many people who were at odds with the fascist doctrine.

    Third, Evola’s use of myth mirrored Tolkien’s saga of Middle-earth with its eternal fight between good and evil. The similarity between Evola’s philosophy and Tolkien’s novels, which enjoyed immense mainstream popularity, ultimately increased the appeal of Evola’s work among a younger generation of radicals who were in desperate need of a system of cultural references untouched by historical fascism or the MSI.

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    On the surface, Evola and Tolkien shared another worldview: anti-modernism. It is Evola’s concept of anti-modernism that the terrorists found particularly useful when justifying their acts of violence. In his book “Revolt Against the Modern World,” Evola argues that history was not an evolutionary success story but a devolution from an imagined spiritual and traditional culture to the modern world. While he praises the Knights Templar and the Nazi SS for their efforts to stop further decline into anarchy, he characterizes the Renaissance, the liberal ideas of the French Revolution, and Italy’s postwar economic miracle as “false myths” leading the world into chaos. Moreover, he claims that modernity could never gradually transition into what he considered the “traditional order.” The only way to establish this order — which, according to him, was “outside history” as it has never existed before — was the total destruction of the modern world.

    In his books “Man Standing amid the Ruins” and “Riding the Tiger,” Evola argues that only political detachment — apoliteia — would allow the aristocratic elite to survive in a totally hostile environment. This elite expresses its racial superiority not through biological ideas but through spiritual qualities. Given his complex and seemingly contradictory arguments, his concept of apoliteia was interpreted by right-wingers in two ways. While one group saw it as a call for a complete retreat from all politics, others stated that activity was still possible, even desirable, as long as one’s acts were not influenced by political aims other than the destruction of the current world. For the latter group, absolute withdrawal was treason and achieving supreme spiritual identity was only possible through extreme engagement.

    It should come as no surprise that Italian right-wing terrorists of the late 1970s advocated for the latter. They aimed for the total destruction of the rotten and decaying modern world in order to make way for the new. Terrorist acts — and thus destruction — were regarded as heroic acts, the only way one could achieve spiritual fulfillment. Those who committed such acts were viewed as possessing greater spiritual value and would become part of the avant-garde.

    Debates about political aims and the right means were replaced by existential needs and slogans such as “restoring human values,” “building community” and “creating a new man.” “Evola,” as one right-wing terrorist said, “is a beacon. One of those men, who offers … all reference points necessary to lead a life in a world of ruins.”

    However, such an interpretation necessitated an oversimplification and vulgarization of Evola’s original ideas. What in his doctrine was long, painstaking and by no means linear was reduced to its most literally brutal aspects. Even though Evola did not exclude future action, he stated that “Riding the Tiger” “does not concern the ordinary man of today.” But in their attempts to accelerate the decline and destruction of the modern world, the young right-wing terrorists demonstrated an incomplete grasp of Evola’s core ideas.

    Dissatisfaction With the Modern World

    Tolkien’s popularity among the right-wing youth who felt marginalized in their own country symbolized a deep dissatisfaction with the modern world that was more rooted in a generational conflict than a specific political ideology — not for nothing did they try to transcend the traditional left-and-right divide. Given the many thematic overlaps between Tolkien’s novels and Evola’s philosophy, it was a small step for some radicals to accept Evola’s writings as applicable facts and use them to legitimize their terrorist activities.

    But, what can we learn from a cultural examination of Italy’s right-wing terrorist scene of the late 1970s? How does such an analysis contribute to a deeper understanding of past and present right-wing terrorism as a whole?

    First, Italy’s right-wing terrorist scene is much more diverse than often acknowledged. This might sound trivial. But especially in the public discourse, apodictic and sometimes ill-defined labels such as “fascist” overshadow the complexity of the right-wing extremist scene and its heterogeneous ideology, which often transcends our common understanding of the political left and right.

    Second, right-wing extremism turns to terrorism due to both external and internal dynamics. Analyzing Italian right-wing terrorism highlights the importance of examining the far-right extremist milieu itself, from internal rivalries between different generations to debates about the “right” ideological orientation and tactics.

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    Third, Tolkien’s world was dominated by male heroes and Evola’s anti-modernist philosophy centered on masculinity, arguing that an elitist group of men would ultimately overcome the materialist decadent modern world and ascend to true spirituality. The promise of a male-dominant, elitist patriarchal society helped to restore self-esteem to young men who felt emasculated by circumstances beyond their control.

    Finally, Evola’s theory offered young radicals who felt marginalized an opportunity to recover their self-esteem and overcome their isolation. Through committing a “terrorist deed” they felt part of a “male” order of “heroic” knights destined to accelerate the destruction of the modern world. I would argue that this behavior shows similarities to what Jeffrey Kaplan defined as “tribalism”— the feeling of belonging to a group even though no direct contact exists between individuals.

    Evola’s work has recently seen a transnational renaissance and has influenced the alt-right movement in the US, the Greek neo-Nazi Golden Dawn party and the Hungarian nationalist Jobbik party. Steve Bannon, Donald Trump’s former chief adviser, is also attracted by Evola’s traditionalist and anti-modernist philosophy, his anti-liberal aristocratic elitism, his spiritual racism and his male-dominated worldview. These groups and individuals use Evola’s work to call for a Christian-dominated Western world that must be defended against all immigrants, Muslims in particular.

    Such calls ignore the fact that Evola was highly critical of Christianity and regarded Islam as the more spiritually advanced and thus more traditional religion, a classic example of the cherry-picking also seen during Evola’s initial adoption by Italy’s far-right in the 1970s. Nevertheless, Evola’s growing popularity among the radical right today calls for a deeper understanding of his teachings and philosophy if we want to gain a better understanding of the present transnational right-wing extremist and terrorist scenes.

    *[Fair Observer is a media partner of the Centre for Analysis of the Radical Right.]

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    The Bologna Attack of 1980: Italy’s Unhealed Wound

    The clock struck 10:25 am on August 2, 1980, when a bomb exploded at Bologna’s Central Train Station. The attack plunged the city, known at the time for its left-wing politics and home to one of the oldest universities on the continent, into chaos. One of the deadliest terrorist attacks in Europe, the explosion had a devastating effect, killing 85 people and injuring over 200. After years of investigations, trials and false leads, Francesca Mambro and Giuseppe Fioravanti, members of the right-wing terrorist organization Armed Revolutionary Nuclei (NAR), were sentenced to life imprisonment in November 1995. Both, however, have always maintained their innocence.

    Many others were also put on trial, some of whom eventually received prison sentences for supporting the terrorists or for obstruction of justice. Among them were Licio Gelli, head of the infamous Propaganda Due lodge, and Pietro Musumeci, an officer in the Italian military secret service.

    Not All Terrorists Want to Claim Responsibility for Attacks

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    Despite these convictions, the Strage di Bologna, or the Bologna massacre, as the attack is now known, continues to be a source of heated debate in Italy, and serious doubts remain as to whether the masterminds behind the attack have really been caught. Every now and then, for example, the Italian judiciary issues new sentences in connection with the attack. Moreover, as recently as January this year, nearly 40 years after the incident, Gilberto Cavalli was found guilty of aiding and abetting Mambro and Fioravanti.

    The ongoing sentencing seems to confirm the widespread belief that we still do not know the whole story and that Italy has struggled to come to terms with this horrible act of terrorism. This state of seeming paralysis is symbolized by the fact that the main station’s clock has not been replaced and, as a reminder for future generations, still shows the exact time of the attack.

    A New Lead? The Palestinian Theory

    Former politicians, judges and magistrates, as well as investigative journalists and academics, have often added to the confusion and uncertainty surrounding the attack. Manifold theories about the true masterminds exist, alternately accusing left-wing terrorists, the Mafia or Gladio of having orchestrated the attack. In 2008, Francesco Cossiga, member of the former Christian Democratic Party (DC) who served as minister of interior between 1976-78 and held the title of prime minister between 1979-80 and president of Italy from 1985 to 1992, cast doubt on the culpability of the neo-fascists.

    In an interview with an Israeli newspaper, he argued that the Bologna attack was an act of retaliation by Palestinian terrorists because the government in Rome had violated the so-called Lodo Moro — a decades-old secret agreement between Rome and the Palestinian Liberation Organizations (PLO), in which the Palestinians offered to spare Italy from PLO orchestrated terrorist attacks in return for Rome’s diplomatic support and for allowing the PLO to roam freely in Italy. In July 2016, Rosario Priore, who has investigated right-wing terrorism in Italy for years, propagated Cossiga’s thesis in his book, “I segreti di Bologna: La verità sull’atto terroristico più grave della storia italiana” (“The Secrets of Bologna: The Truth About the Most Serious Attack in Italy’s History”).

    According to Priore, everything started in November 1979 when the Carabinieri arrested three left-wing extremists — Daniele Pifano, Giuseppe Nieri and Giorgio Baumgartner — and a Palestinian man, Abu Anzeh Saleh, for arms smuggling. When the Italian government declined to release Saleh, the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) under George Habash contacted Libyan leaders Muammar Gaddafi, who in turn asked the Venezuelan militant Ilich Ramirez Sanchez — better known as Carlos the Jackal — to retaliate against the Italians. The German Thomas Kram, a member of Carlos’ group, was duly dispatched to Bologna to carry out the bombing. However, Kram and Carlos denied any involvement, arguing that Kram was under constant surveillance by the Italian police as soon as he entered Italy and therefore could not have carried out the attack undetected.

    Embed from Getty Images

    Nevertheless, the question remains: Were the Palestinians really responsible, in one form or another, for the terrorist attack in Bologna? As time goes by and more and more archives declassify their documents and make them available for researchers, we may be able to get closer to the truth. In the meantime, however, as historians, we can try to sort myth from reality by contextualizing the events and critically examining the arguments presented. This approach reveals that the Palestinian theory is not as cut and dried as Priore and others claim.

    We do not currently have any evidence that the PFLP and its main leaders, Habash and Bassam Abu Sharif, or any other Palestinian group actually demanded the release of Saleh. Furthermore, bombings were not typically the first weapon of choice for Palestinian terrorists, who preferred kidnappings and taking hostages at the time. In addition, the Palestinians usually claimed responsibility for terrorist attacks they committed. Even Carlos, who worked for the PFLP until 1975, usually claimed responsibility for his actions.

    Moreover, neither the Palestinians nor the Italian government would have gained anything from a stand-off caused by the arrest of one person and the confiscation of weapons. Given the vulnerability of the Italian economy and its dependence on Arab oil, Rome continued to negotiate with rather than confront the PLO. In June 1980, for example, the European Council under Italian leadership issued a statement in favor of the PLO. In addition, in 1980, the various factions within the PLO — including Habash’s PFLP — supported Yasser Arafat’s more cautious and diplomatic approach toward the European countries.

    Why would the PFLP, whose leadership had been weakened when Habash suffered a stroke in 1980, go through all this trouble when there was really nothing to gain? Only when Arafat’s leadership role was challenged in 1982 did Palestinian attacks in Europe resume, with the Achille Lauro affair of 1985 serving as a prime example.

    Going back to Francesco Cossiga’s testimony, it seems that he used the 2008 interview primarily to present himself in a favorable light for the newspaper’s Israeli readership by rejecting any involvement in the pact between Rome and the PLO. He claimed that the secret service did not tell him any details about the agreement between Rome and the Palestinians, which, considering his positions at the highest level of government, is hardly convincing. In addition, by blaming foreign terrorists for the deadliest attack in Italy’s history, he avoided taking responsibility for neglecting and underestimating homegrown terrorism.

    Moreover, we should not forget the tensions between the leadership of what was formerly known as the Christian Democratic Party and the Italian judiciary. Cossiga’s interview shows his distrust toward the judiciary and might have also been an attempt to undermine their authority, by implying that they were unable to find and prosecute the real perpetrators of the attack despite all these years that have passed since.

    A Familiar Pattern: Right-Wing Terrorism

    Considering these points, it seems unlikely that the Bologna attack was an act of retaliation against Italy orchestrated by the PFLP. The extent of Gaddafi’s involvement might tell a different story, but only further investigation and declassification of documents will clarify that case. As it stands, all the concrete evidence and indications we do have point to Italy’s extreme radical right.

    The Bologna attack mirrored how right-wing terrorists have previously operated in Italy, particularly during the strategy of tension period between 1969 and 1974. Though skeptics may claim that the attack was designed to mimic the tactics of the extreme radical right and thus shift blame, it was not just the attack itself — the indiscriminate bombing without anyone claiming responsibility — but also the target that reminded many contemporaries of the chaos right-wing terrorists inflicted on Italy a decade earlier: placing bombs in or close to trains in the summertime, thus causing maximum civilian casualties.

    On August 4, 1974, for instance, right-wing terrorists of the group Black Order carried out an attack on the Italicus express, killing 12 people and injuring 48. The Italian singer and songwriter Claudio Lolli commemorated the attack in his famous song “Agosto”— August — which experienced a revival after the Bologna attack.

    One important aspect of the strategy of tension, however, was missing in 1980, thus implying that it was not just a copycat attack. In contrast to the early 1970s, the attempts to blame the Italian left for the attack were marginal and had not been picked up by Italy’s major newspapers. It shows that the perpetrators were able to adapt to a new socio-political situation. Blaming the Italian left, which had established itself as an integral part of the Italian political landscape in 1980, for the Bologna attack would have been a lost cause.

    That does not mean, however, that the right-wing terrorists did not attempt to influence Italian politics. Bombings, bloodshed and chaos on the streets usually favor conservative groups who claim to be the protectors of law and order. Why right-wing terrorists thought 1980 would be a good year to launch another campaign to push Italy further to the right can only be fully understood when we contextualize Bologna within Italian and European history of the time.

    Given the rising tensions between the West and the Eastern Bloc since 1979, anti-communism became a powerful recruitment tool for the radical right in Europe and again offered an opportunity to form alliances with the conservative milieu, including elements of the state secret services. Thus, it comes as no surprise that everywhere in Europe, extreme parts of the radical right started a new campaign of terror to influence the politics of their respective countries and push them further to the right. The campaign started in February 1980 and lasted, with pauses, at least until 1984-85, when the regime in Moscow began to noticeably decline.

    France and Spain experienced a series of right-wing attacks, and after Bologna, a bomb exploded at the Oktoberfest in Munich on September 26, 1980, killing 13 people. Given the latter’s proximity to the Bologna attack, rumors quickly circulated that some kind of connection must have existed between the Italian terrorists and the German perpetrator, Gundolf Köhler. In 2014, the German federal prosecutor general decided to reopen the case due to inconsistencies and omissions in the original investigations. Until July 2020, when the case was closed again, over 300,000 pages of evidence were examined and over 1,000 witnesses interviewed. In the end, however, the prosecutor could not find additional co-conspirators or backers as possible evidence was carelessly — some would argue deliberately — destroyed early on.

    He did, however, establish that Köhler indeed committed a right-wing terrorist attack to shape West Germany’s politics and was more than just a disgruntled youth. Köhler wanted to influence the political landscape in his country in favor of conservative change — after all, parliamentary elections in West Germany occurred only a couple of days after the bombing, and Franz-Josef Strauß, the candidate of the conservative CDU, was known for his anti-communist stance.

    Fluid Politics

    In Italy, the political situation in 1980 was also fluid, even though no general election was on the horizon. Francesco Cossiga formed a fragile coalition government in April 1980 between his Christian Democratic Party, the Republican Party and the Socialist Party under Bettino Craxi. In the regional election in June 1980, the Christian Democrats gained new seats, and right-wing terrorists might have thought that by destabilizing public order this trend could be pushed even further, maybe resulting in an end to the Socialist’s government involvement.

    Also, the city of Bologna as a target can be taken as a clear sign that it was the extreme radical-right milieu that sought to benefit from public turmoil: Bologna was a, if not the symbol in Italy for a successful, leftist local government: Since 1970, Renato Zangheri, a member of the communist party, has served as the mayor of the city.

    Last but not least, we should also consider the Italian extreme right-wing terrorist scene at the time. Internal rivalry between different factions within a terrorist milieu is often an important factor to explain a process of radicalization. While the strategy of tension of the early 1970s was dominated by a form of reactionary right-wing terrorism, the second half of the decade saw the emergence of a heterogenous right-wing “armed spontaneity” that showed similarities to the American idea of leaderless resistance of the 1970s and 1980s.

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    During the second half of the 1970s, former heroes of the strategy of tension like Stefano Delle Chiaie were sidelined. When the security apparatus was able to arrest exponents of the armed spontaneity faction, and when the Cold War tensions once again increased, the old guard of Italian right-wing terrorism might have seen an opportunity to regain control over the country’s radical-right extremist milieu.

    One last question remains, however: Why do the arrested right-wing terrorists deny all the charges? Should we believe them? Despite the fact that nearly everyone who was accused of having committed the terrorist bombing in Bologna has denied their involvement, the right-wing terrorists have another motif: Spreading terror and fear is a core aspect of every terrorist group. So, when they deny their involvement in the attack, which remained shrouded in mystery for decades, they increase a sense of unease, fear and terror — a feeling that something similar can happen anywhere and at any time because the true puppet masters are still out there, giving even those who have been accused of or arrested for a crime the opportunity to advance the group’s agenda.

    On this 40th anniversary of the Bologna attack, the citizens of Bologna will observe a minute of silence as they have done every year since 1980, commemorating the 85 victims whose names are enshrined on a plaque with the title “Victims of Fascist Terrorism.” Like each year before, the anniversary will be accompanied by newspaper articles and commentaries, continuing the controversial debates surrounding the attack. These discussions, however, should not distract from the fact that currently the judicial and the historical evidence point only to one group of perpetrators: right-wing terrorists.

    However, as long as theories and rumors circulate and documents remain classified, the victims and their families still await closure. Even if the terrorists might have not succeeded in their ultimate goal, the fear and terror they unleashed on August 2, 1980, still haunts Italy’s public memory — and Bologna’s main station, with its stricken clock — to this day.

    *[The Centre for Analysis of the Radical Right is a partner institution of Fair Observer.]

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More