The Pope and Mussolini

by David I. Kertzer

  Nor was La Civiltà cattolica alone. In the months before the anti-Semitic campaign began, much of the Italian Catholic press was urging the government to take action. Especially influential was L’Amico del clero (The Clergy’s Friend), the official publication of the Italian national association of Roman Catholic clergy, which counted twenty thousand priests as members.

  A spring 1938 article by Monsignor Nazareno Orlandi titled “The Jewish Invasion in Italy Too” began with the usual disclaimer: “We are not, nor can we as Christians be, anti-Semitic.” The monsignor went on to explain that while the “racist” anti-Semitism of the Nazis, based on a belief in the purity of blood, had to be rejected, “defensive anti-Semitism” was not only legitimate but necessary in the battle against “the Jewish invasion in politics, the economy, journalism, cinema, morals, and in all public life.” While thanks to the government’s vigilance, things were not as bad in Italy as elsewhere, “it is certain that many of the positions of command among us are also in the hands of the Jews who would, given the opportunity, probably do to us what they have succeeded so well in doing in other nations.” While our records are limited as to what millions of Italians who attended Sunday mass in those months heard from the pulpit, and studies are almost nonexistent, it would be surprising if they did not hear repackaged versions of these dire warnings.8

  In mid-July, while LaFarge and his colleagues were secretly drafting their encyclical in Paris, La Civiltà cattolica published a long, enthusiastic article on the recently introduced anti-Semitic legislation in Hungary. “In Hungary,” the journal explained, “the Jews have no single organization engaged in any systematic common action. The instinctive and irrepressible solidarity of their nation is enough to have them make common cause in putting into action their messianic craving for world domination.” Hungarian Catholics’ anti-Semitism was not of the “vulgar, fanatic” kind, much less “racist,” but “a movement of defense of national traditions and of true freedom and independence of the Hungarian people.”9

  ON JULY 14 MUSSOLINI kicked off the Fascist campaign against Italy’s Jews with a statement on race, published in Giornale d’Italia, one of Italy’s leading newspapers. The Manifesto of Racial Scientists, prepared at Mussolini’s direction, was a set of propositions drafted by an unknown twenty-five-year-old anthropologist, Guido Landra, and signed by a mix of prominent and obscure Italian academics.10 It set out the Fascist regime’s new racial theory. Italy’s population, it stated, was “of Aryan origin and its civilization is Aryan,” and indeed “a pure Italian race exists.” Ominously, it announced that the time had come for Italians to “proclaim themselves to be frankly racist. All of the work that the regime has done thus far is, in essence, racism.” Explaining that “the question of racism in Italy ought to be treated from a purely biological point of view,” it incoherently added, “This does not mean however introducing into Italy theories of German racism.”11

  Historians have debated why Mussolini chose to mount a campaign against Italy’s Jews. For years the Jewish Margherita Sarfatti had been both his lover and his trusted adviser.12 Several of Mussolini’s family doctors were Jewish, and after announcing the “racial” campaign, he would also have to find a new dentist.13 Nor had he previously taken seriously Nazi claims of racial superiority. In his 1932 interview with the Jewish Emil Ludwig, he had famously said, “Nothing will ever make me believe that biologically pure races can be shown to exist today.”14

  For many historians, the timing of Mussolini’s campaign—its kickoff coming just two months after Hitler’s visit to Rome—was no coincidence. Hitler, they argue, told Mussolini during his visit that if he truly wanted to cement their alliance, he would have to eliminate the most obvious difference between the two regimes and declare war on the Jews. Dino Grandi, then Italian ambassador to Great Britain, gave this account. In this reconstruction, Hitler tried to induce Mussolini to join his battle against the Catholic Church as well. The Duce refused but agreed to join the Nazis’ anti-Semitic campaign.15

  There are reasons to doubt Grandi’s account, not least the fact that it was written after the war, when Grandi—who had never supported the Nazi alliance—was eager to blame all that was wrong with Fascism on the Nazis. But this does not mean the timing of Mussolini’s anti-Semitic campaign was unrelated to Hitler’s visit. He was eager to impress the Nazi leadership and undoubtedly thought nothing would please it more than taking aim at Italy’s Jews.16

  La Civiltà cattolica, which published the manifesto at the end of July, greeted with relief its statement that Italy’s racism should be “essentially Italian.” The journal worried, however, that its propositions were not clear enough. Some might interpret them as supporting the worship of blood, a Nazi concept that ran counter to Catholic teachings on the universality of humankind. The journal made no comment on the manifesto’s proposition that “Jews do not belong to the Italian race.”17 L’Osservatore romano, in reporting the news, quoted this sentence but offered not a word of criticism. Meanwhile many papers republished part or all of a July 17 article by a member of the Civiltà cattolica collective commenting favorably on the manifesto.18 Italy’s major Catholic daily, L’Avvenire d’Italia, was one of them; four days later its editor, Raimondo Manzini, expressed his support for an “Italian racism” in its pages. Manzini would later serve for eighteen years as the editor of L’Osservatore romano.19

  At 7:15 P.M. on July 14, only hours after publication of the manifesto, the Rome correspondent for the Nazi Party newspaper, Völkischer Beobachter, relayed the exciting news to Germany. “Following the statement on the problem of racism, National Socialism and Fascism show that in this area too they are united. From today on,” the German journalist gushed, “140 million men profess the same Weltanschauung [worldview].”20 The following day German newspapers reported the news glowingly, expressing the belief that Italy would soon announce its own anti-Semitic legislation, following the Nazi example.21

  After considerable work behind the scenes, the anti-Semitic campaign got off to a strong start. Mussolini followed it closely, assigning the task to the ministry of popular culture, which had responsibility for the regime’s propaganda. Professors of known Fascist sympathies were solicited to add their names as supporters of the campaign, libraries devoted to racist literature were organized, and an archive of twenty thousand racist photographs was planned. A group of Fascist academics was enlisted to write about the reality of races, aimed at a broad audience. Of special importance was the launching of a new illustrated popular magazine promulgating the racial theories, to be called La Difesa della razza (The Defense of the Race).22

  In taking action against the supposedly dangerous Jewish threat, Mussolini was finally heeding the warnings that the pope’s emissaries, especially Father Tacchi Venturi, had been giving him. But the pope himself showed no sign of concern about any Jewish threat in Italy. What was most exercising him was the threat posed by the Nazis.

  The Duce had reason to worry that the pope would oppose his embrace of German racism. But he also had reason to believe he could keep the pope from speaking out against it. If he stood firm and distinguished his brand of racism from the Nazis’, he thought, the pope would ultimately back off. The effort to differentiate Fascist racism from Nazi racism helps explain the verbal gymnastics in the racial manifesto. The distinction was also important to Mussolini because nothing angered him more than being accused of imitating Hitler.

  Mussolini also knew that while the pope opposed German racial ideology, his views on state policy aimed at limiting Jews’ rights were much less clear. Indeed, the Duce was counting on using the Church’s own warnings about the Jewish threat to generate popular support for his anti-Semitic campaign.

  Most of all, Mussolini knew how much the pope depended on him for favors that benefited the Church. Some of them, including trying to influence Hitler on the Church’s behalf, involved major matters. Others, such as relying on the regime to prevent publication of books Pius XI found o
ffensive, were more minor but nonetheless important to him. One such instance was certainly fresh in the pope’s mind at the time.

  In late May, Pius had learned that a new biography of Cesare Borgia was about to go on sale at newsstands in inexpensive, illustrated installments. Borgia was not a topic the Vatican was eager to have explored. Born in 1475, he was made a cardinal at age eighteen. Borgia’s father was Pope Alexander VI. Renouncing his cardinal’s hat in his early twenties, Borgia went on to become a military leader, fathering two children by his wife and many more with other women.23 The pope got word to Ciano that he wanted all copies of the biography destroyed.24

  Mussolini’s son-in-law ordered a halt to the newsstand publication. The government would permit the biography to be published only as a single, weighty volume, which would cut down dramatically on its readership.25 But the Vatican soon learned that, despite Ciano’s order, the popular installments were still on sale. On instructions from the pope, the nuncio Borgongini met with Ciano on June 13.

  Galeazzo Ciano

  (photograph credit 22.1)

  Indignant that his order had not been followed, Ciano picked up the phone and called the second-in-command of the popular culture ministry, the minister being out of town.

  “Rizzoli [Angelo Rizzoli, the publisher],” Ciano told him, “is the most anti-Italian, anti-fascist, anti-Catholic person imaginable.” The book, he charged, was “a lurid speculation, prepared by the Jews.” Borgongini had pointed out to Ciano earlier that the author of the biography, Gustav Sacerdote, was Jewish. Rizzoli had to be taught a lesson. “Put your knee on his throat,” instructed Ciano, “and slap him around so that he never forgets it.”26

  A week after that meeting Ciano let the nuncio know that not only had the popular installments of the Cesare Borgia biography been banned, but so had the book itself. The following week Cardinal Pacelli wrote a note of thanks.27

  UNDER ACHILLE STARACE’S HEAVY HAND, Mussolini’s campaign to demonstrate the regime’s virility was in full swing. From June 30 through July 2, the dictator presided over highly publicized athletic events aimed at showing the intrepid spirit and toughness of the Fascist Party leadership. Summoned to Rome, the provincial party heads took part in a series of “tests.” These ranged from the ridiculous (as Fascism’s portly potentates attempted to vault over fake wooden horses) to the dangerous (as they leaped over upright rows of bayonets). The American ambassador described the bizarre event, noting that as Mussolini looked on, “two competitors fail[ed] to clear the bayonet hedge with somewhat uncomfortable results.” Italian newspapers featured a photograph of the valiant Achille Starace jumping headfirst through a flaming hoop.28

  At the time, Mussolini’s focus on his plans for Italian greatness was diminished by an unpleasant personal matter. Clara Petacci was growing increasingly prone to fits of jealousy. She had good reason for her suspicions, for even as she camped out in her Palazzo Venezia suite, the Duce continued to have brief trysts with some of his older lovers. Clara lashed out; to calm her down, Mussolini phoned her many times a day. Almost daily through much of July, he sneaked off with her to the beach at Ostia, leaving in mid-morning and returning in mid-afternoon.29

  The Duce’s son-in-law was left to manage the fallout from the newly announced racial campaign. On July 20 he sent the Italian ambassador, Pignatti, to the Vatican to learn the pope’s reaction. Two days earlier, speaking to a group of nuns, the pope had again lamented “exaggerated nationalism.”

  “Is it true,” Pignatti asked Cardinal Pacelli, “that the pope is thinking of adopting countermeasures in opposition to the anti-Israelite campaign planned by the royal government?”

  Pacelli was noncommittal: the pope had told him of no plans to speak out on the issue, he said. Pacelli expressed no opposition to the anti-Semitic campaign.

  What had the pope been referring to with the phrase “exaggerated nationalism”? Pignatti asked. Such comments, he pointed out, could be interpreted as criticizing the new racial policy.

  Pacelli hastened to assure him that the pope had no such intention, that his remarks were aimed primarily at Catholics in other countries to warn them not to become too identified with nationalist ideologies there.

  Catholic doctrine, argued Pignatti, had to recognize the existence of races.

  Cardinal Pacelli responded indirectly. Canon law, he said, was very clear: people who were baptized were to be considered Catholic. Whatever anti-Semitic policies Mussolini planned, it was crucial that he confine them to those who were truly Jewish.30

  Six days later Pignatti met Pius at Castel Gandolfo to discuss the racial campaign directly with him. The pope appeared thinner but had regained a good deal of his strength. He still wore elastic stockings to help with the pain in his legs, but he no longer needed daily massages. His personal physician drove up from Rome each morning to check on him but no longer felt the need to spend nights there, as he had the previous summer. The pope had no illusions that he would live very long, but he wanted to die at his desk.31

  Pignatti was pleased with the meeting. He gently scolded the pope for condemning “exaggerated nationalism,” telling him his remark was open to misinterpretation. In response, the pope echoed Pacelli’s explanation: he had not been referring to Italy.

  Then the pontiff raised a complaint of his own. He had been getting disturbing reports that the Italian government was giving privileged treatment to Protestants in the Italian areas in East Africa. Not only was this bad for Catholicism, it was bad for Italy, he told Pignatti, as the Protestants were acting as British agents in Africa.32 The pope also expressed concerns about the latest accusations that Catholic Action was involving itself in politics. “I pray to the Lord every day,” said the pope, “that Signor Mussolini not touch Catholic Action.” He added, “you can obtain anything from the pope just as long as you don’t attack Catholic Action.”33

  A week after the meeting, the pope, ignoring Pignatti’s warning, resumed his attacks on “exaggerated nationalism.” In remarks to two hundred students at Rome’s College for the Propagation of the Faith, he took his criticism a step further. There was but one, big human race, he told the students; and in a comment that would infuriate Mussolini, he added, “One can ask how it is that Italy, unfortunately, felt the need to go and imitate Germany.”34

  The pope reserved his strongest words for his defense of his beloved Catholic Action. “I warn you,” he said, clearly addressing Mussolini, “not to strike Catholic Action, and I beg you for your own good, for he who strikes Catholic Action strikes the pope, and he who strikes the pope dies.”

  Angered above all by the charge that he was imitating Hitler, Mussolini ordered that no Italian paper publish the pope’s speech.35 Ciano told the nuncio Borgongini that if the pope continued such attacks, he would provoke a major rift. “I spoke very clearly to Borgongini,” Ciano recalled. “I explained the promises and the aims of our racism.” The nuncio again tried to minimize the pope’s remarks. Pius had only wanted to be sure that Italian racism remained within proper bounds. Ciano was pleased: Borgongini “appeared to me to be very convinced. And he revealed himself to be very anti-Semitic.”36

  On July 31 the Italian ambassador went to see Cardinal Pacelli to complain about the pope’s latest remarks. The pope could not continue his criticisms and expect to maintain the Church’s productive collaboration with the regime. Pacelli promised to convey Mussolini’s concerns to the pope. Pignatti thought he had Pacelli on his side but doubted the pope would pay any attention to his advice.37

  Ambassador Bonifacio Pignatti (right), with Galeazzo Ciano, May 1939

  (photograph credit 22.2)

  “Collaboration was sometimes hard,” Pacelli would later tell Cardinal Verdier, the Paris archbishop, in explaining his relationship with Pius XI. The pope would listen to no one, not even his secretary of state, or so it seemed to him. “My affectionate nature suffered,” Pacelli confided, “but I knew that he loved me, and this thought consoled me.” Later, he of
fered Verdier another example of this sometimes-tense relationship. Once he had felt so overwhelmed that without realizing it, he “almost violently” banged his fists on the pope’s desk. He could not continue as secretary of state, he told the pontiff. “It does not fulfill me, and I am suffering.”

  “The pope looked at me coldly and slowly said these words that I will never forget,” Pacelli recalled. “ ‘We have only one task, you and I, that is to do the politics of good!’ ” Pacelli was touched: “What a magnificent response! Humiliated by the weakness my nerves had caused me, I fell down on my knees at the pope’s feet and begged his pardon. The Holy Father lifted me up affectionately and hugged me.” “Quelle tableau!” observed Verdier, conjuring up the image, “What a picture!”38

  Worried about the damage the pope could do to the anti-Semitic campaign, Pignatti turned to a man who could help. On August 4 he traveled south to the Sorrento peninsula, where Father Ledóchowski was staying in a Jesuit residence recovering from a recent illness. “I went to see the general of the Jesuits,” Pignatti later explained, “because in the past … he did not hide from me his implacable loathing for the Jews, whom he believes are the origin of all the ills that afflict Europe.”

  The ambassador found Ledóchowski well informed about the problem and highly sympathetic to Pignatti’s cause. “Father Rosa,” he said, “told me that the pope did not understand.” His illness was robbing him of his mental abilities: “It is terrible, but that’s the way it is.” During the pope’s illness, Pius had prayed to God to take his soul to Him, but “the Lord did not grant the pope’s prayer, and as a result the Church today is going through a serious crisis.” Pius “does not reason and does not want to hear reason.” Cardinal Pacelli was at his wit’s end: “The pope no longer listens to him as he once did. He carefully hides his plans from him and does not tell him about the speeches he will give.”