Liberation Day

Today, the 25th of April, is a national holiday in Italy that commemorates the end of the Nazi occupation during WWII and the victory of the Resistance in Italy. Liberation Day. It’s a day to remember those who gave up their lives, their dreams, hopes and chances to love to allow us today to live, dream, hope and love.  I know that history is written by the victors, but I do still believe that good won out here and that we live in a better world for it. I grew up thinking we all believed that, everywhere.  

Of course, time would prove me wrong on that front. 

I met a guy back in 2004.  He was older, and short.  He owned the construction company that was the main contractor for a power plant being built in the Veneto region.  I’d been hired as an interpreter for the American company who was supplying the machinery and innovative gasifier technology that would turn trash into electricity with virtually no emissions.  He was one of the many I’d gotten to know on the project, given I was the go-between for the language barrier but also because my past work as a civil engineer made me useful in other ways.  I’d given up that life as a civil engineer twenty years prior when I’d moved to Italy.  Since then I’d applied myself to creating connections, building bridges between cultures, between people. I found a lot of freedom in that.

In early November 2004, with the project roaring along to meet deadlines so as not to lose European Community funding for new environmentally-friendly power plants, I came to the plant anxious about the results of the presidential election in the states.  My older, short friend (who was clearly interested in the project for the money, as opposed to many others who were excited about the prospect of clean energy), asked what was wrong.  I wasn’t sure who he might prefer to be the leader of the “free world” given the Italians always noted that “when the USA gets a cold, Europe gets pneumonia.”  Not wanting to rock any boats, I simply said “just worried about the election.” To this he replied, “Oh, I don’t care who wins that election. I hate all Americans.” 

Ouch.  

He went on to say that because of the Americans and the outcome of WWII, things hadn’t gone his way, that his family had lost everything they owned.  He went into detail, listing villas, properties and businesses that had been sequestered. He went on to tell me how one of the worst days of his recent life was when his wallet was stolen.  Not because of the money that was taken.  But because in that wallet was his “Duce” pin he couldn’t conceive of living without. Mussolini, Hilter’s Italian cohort during the war, was known as “Il Duce,” which derives from the Latin dux, or Leader. He said he eventually recovered the wallet and his Duce pin and covets it still.  I then watched as he stared into space towards some other reality and dreamily claimed Mussolini for himself, saying sottovoce, “il mio Duce…” A moment later, he looked pained to have to return from his reverie.

I didn’t know what to say to this.  Growing up in the states (in California, no less), I naively thought that we’d settled this matter - that the Nazis and Fascists like them had been declared WRONG, were no more, and the human race of the western world had moved on to a better understanding of how to live in the world.  Obviously it was I who was wrong. Because here was a fascist standing before me, still very alive and well, albeit captured by his stolen un-lived past.

I pretty much avoided him for the remaining time I was on the project.  My mom always told me “It takes all kinds,” but this was a kind that I felt was better left alone. It would be a number of years before I’d come to know there were many more like him out there.  And even more time for me to learn that such misguided people, virtually imprisoned by hard-hearted beliefs, warrant my compassion but that it was still and forever best to put my efforts into bridge building, continuing to make connections between cultures and people.  

As it turned out, the power plant didn’t go his way either. They just couldn’t get the technology to work. I’d moved on to another project by then so wasn’t present at the end to get his take on things. I’m guessing he was even more caught up in hating Americans and had more reasons to mourn his losses along with his Duce. I doubt he every got free from that.

Today, April 25, 2020 we honor those who fought for the cause of liberty. But in the background, with the pandemic affecting so many worldwide, today we also hear voices challenging what these ideas of liberty and freedom really mean. It’s easy to get caught up in all of that hoopla, to pass judgement, to point fingers. I’m guilty of that. Then I remember what my mom says: “It takes all kinds.” And I think that I’ll feel a lot freer if instead of pointing a finger, I just roll up my sleeves and start building those bridges.