Mussolini and Hitler’s sisters in Marco Patricelli’s latest book

Historian, essayist, journalist, former professor of Contemporary European History at the Gabriele D’Annunzio University of Chieti, author of books published by some of the most important Italian and European publishing houses (Mondadori, Utet, Laterza, Rusconi, Solferino, Lattès, Wydawnictwo Literackie, Bellona, ​​Neriton, University of Warsaw, Grada, Arte), winner in 2010 with ‘The volunteer’ of the Acqui History Prize, Marco Patricelli has recently returned to bookshops with ‘The shadow of the Duce. The forgotten story of Edvige, Mussolini’s sister (Solferino). To find out more about his work, AGI met him.

How did the book come about?
Beyond the fact that few know that Mussolini had a sister, the book is the result of my historical curiosity: I wanted to understand how the Duce related to her and what her role had been over the twenty years. In their report I identified two aspects
fundamentals, the first of which is strictly personal: despite being smaller than Benito, from the age of fourteen onwards, following the death of her mother, Edvige self-appointed herself as the mother hen of this restless and unmanageable boy since childhood. After having lived the experience of being the daughter of a revolutionary socialist, often in trouble with the law, and of a teacher with a strong Catholic faith, the young woman was able to synthesize within herself the red paternal part and the white, cultured and clerical, maternal part, taking on a role as an educator who was an expression of the rural bourgeoisie from which she came. The second aspect of their relationship takes shape when Mussolini rises to power, becoming head of government and then Duce: Edvige does not become his advisor, but becomes a link between her brother and those who had no way of speaking to him. TO
she Benito didn’t know how to say no, a circumstance that made her unique. Suffice it to say that when Edvige and Rachele Mussolini argued, the Duce asked his wife not to force him to make a choice: as always he would have favored his sister.

In the book, Hedwig’s life is told in parallel to that of Hitler’s sister. I found this symmetry very interesting precisely because of its discontinuity. While Edvige could go to Palazzo Venezia whenever she wanted without anyone daring to stop her, and open her yellow folder full of requests, pleas and requests for recommendations often coming from those persecuted by the regime in the presence of the Duce – above all the case of De Gasperi, for whom Edvige interceded by also acting as spokesperson for the Vatican – Paula Hitler was literally erased by her brother, who forced her to change her surname to Wolff and effectively destroyed her life by intervening against two of his engaged couples, a Jew and a doctor sent to the Eastern Front. In summary: while Edvige was the shadow of the Duce, Paula Hitler disappeared in the shadow of the Führer, even losing her own identity. Yet after the war both defended the memory of their brothers in the same way: Edvige sweetened the darkest passages in the history of fascism with superficial justifications even for the laws
racial, and Paula even denying that Adolf had been responsible for the Shoah.

Now that he is dead, he said of him, who can defend him but me?
Edvige also justified Benito in her memoirs, but the last part of her existence was worthy of a character from a Greek tragedy: after her brother, her favorite son and her son-in-law were killed on 28 April 1945, she never left the house again. Her entire world disappeared in a single day, suddenly burying her between four walls.

From the perspective of a modern rereading of the twenty years, what does the story of the Duce’s sister represent?
It cannot be a lens for a historical framework, however the twenty years seen through it cannot be said to be observed from the keyhole. Edvige’s filter is that of a profound affection, which leads her to glorify the works of the regime and tone down its crimes. According to her, Mussolini never wanted and is therefore not responsible for any violence, while from the point of view of personal ethics in his relationships with the many women he had, the Duce simply behaved like a man, who does not hold back if desired. Finally, the Concordat born from the signing of the Lateran Pacts also puts it at peace with its more Catholic part.

Why does the topic of fascism continue to be so current in Italy?
Because fascism is in the autobiography of our nation. This is a period that has had a strong impact on the Italian conscience, but which has not yet been historicized, remaining unresolved in many aspects. This explains some of the holds
anachronistic positions from both the most extreme sides of politics. We continue to talk about fascism with a conceptual anarchy that has no solid basis. We are not ready. Just think of the disorganized criticism received by the reconstruction work carried out by Renzo De Felice. In short, it is an open wound, which in a country that lives on the founding myth of the Risorgimento still needs time to heal.

You have taught Contemporary European History: to which period of the past do you think the 1920s are comparable?
I don’t believe in appeals nor in the Ciceronian maxim according to which History is the teacher of life. Unfortunately, human beings tend to always make the same mistakes in different ways, with the tools that the present grants them. History does not predict the future, but it can provide the codes to understand current events and give meaning to what is happening. Galli della Loggia spoke about the political use of ignorance of History, that is, the tendency to pull it by the jacket and make it instrumental to different or even conflicting positions. It is a maxim that today can be valid for Gaza, Israel, Syria, Russia and Ukraine: you take sides and build a theorem based on a portion of history. But it is not repeated, and even if lessons are learned, it does not mean that man knows how to avoid mistakes that have already been made. This is why it is important to know the
History: the price of not doing so is condemning yourself to not understanding the era in which you live.