There could be no dictatorship without propaganda; no strength without diversion. ‘Bread and games,’ they called it in Roman times – the people must be kept distracted and asleep, and the authorities must court their good graces. Their free time must be occupied, so they did not have too much time to think. Strike your enemy head on and you will foment his anger, but slip beside him unnoticed and you will hold the reins of power.
Brothers of Italy
Italy has awoken,
Bound Scipio’s helmet
Upon her head.
Where is Victory?
Let her bow down,
For as a slave of Rome
God created her.
So they sang as they walked through the mountain roads of the Dolomites. How beautiful was nature, and how great their God. Long live Italy!
They followed along behind the car driven by two men from the Nazional Dopolavoro Afterwork Club. The mood was joyous, and the people happy to be together. Mussolini was the father of all Italians, and had reformed the entire country; ever since Il Duce had brought in his program for managing the leisure time of working people from cities and the countryside, one would often see crowds gather in the name of leisure, in the mountains or the fields, or at village crossroads. People used their free time to take long excursions in nature, to meet other people and get to know them, and generally to rejoice in their nation’s existence. They would sing patriotic songs in chorus as they walked. The National Afterwork Club was created to promote sport, culture and entertainment, and was a way for families to meet up after their day’s labour. The men could play football and learn DIY, while the women learned first aid, hygiene and home economics. Italian traditions were revived, and the people of its various regions came together to engage in all kinds of activities. The banners and flag of the nation fluttered proudly. This was how the working people of Italy were subsumed into fascist society.
“My boy Luca and I came from Naples to participate in this Dopolavoro hike,” said one women to another, who would not take her eyes off her own son.
“My name’s Nina. I joined the Dopolavoro six months ago. You learn a lot on these excursions. For example, I learned that you could mix ingredients from the mountains with fish from the sea.”
“Is that what they call surf and turf?” the other woman asked.
“That’s right! You can cover anchovies with olive oil, then dry them. Then you mix the dried anchovies with mushrooms. You add some canned tuna and cook it all together with your spaghetti.”
“Al dente, I hope,” winked Nina.
“My boy Luca loves it,” the other woman added.
Luca had just made his first communion; a good Christian and a good Italian. Today he was happy to make this excursion with his mother. His father was in Ethiopia with the fighting men of Italy. He sent them regular letters, telling them he was proud to be fighting for his homeland, helping extend Italy’s power and expand its economy. Luca did not like war, patriot or no; he was too sensitive to understand conflict. His mother had explained to him many times that Ethiopia was a poor country, and they needed Italy’s help to grow, but still – wasn’t it wrong to invade another country?
Alan Alfredo Geday
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