Italians, good people?

Twenty years ago, a truly important book was published: Italians, Good People? by Angelo Del Boca, a journalist and historian who made a crucial contribution to understanding our colonial past in Africa (Libya and the Horn of Africa). Conceived as a synthesis of his previous works, the book aimed to offer the reader a new narrative of our recent history, highlighting some of the most violent and brutal episodes of our unification.

The central thesis is that, starting from the end of the nineteenth century and starting directly with the successive governments at the helm of our country, a myth was created—that of the good Italian—which allowed for a sugar-coated and magnanimous interpretation of our attitudes during wartime actions.

"The myth of the 'Italians, good people,' which has covered up so many infamies [...], actually appears, when examined in detail, to be a fragile, hypocritical artifice. It has no citizenship rights, no historical foundation. It has been arbitrarily and cunningly used for over a century and still has its adherents today, but the truth is that Italians, in certain circumstances, have behaved in the most brutal manner, just like other peoples in similar situations. Therefore, they have no right to any clemency, much less self-absolution.

The episodes Del Boca presents are numerous and span from the unification of Italy to the end of the Second World War: from the relentless fighting to banditry to the hell of Nocra (an island off the coast of Eritrea that became a punishment and torture camp), passing through China, the Horn of Africa, and Slovenia. Wherever they have been, Italians have left traces of violence and ferocity, episodes that are second to none compared to more famous and cruel episodes from other nations.

Del Boca wants to demonstrate that violence is not a parenthesis, an element detached from our history, but is a dramatically intimate part of it and permeates it profoundly. Even today, we are still held hostage by a myth that prevents us from coming to terms with the past and from having a clear view of the present and the future. Recognizing ourselves as capable of atrocious crimes is the only way to activate antibodies and effective strategies. Thinking of ourselves as immune risks exposing us to potentially dangerous situations, leaving us defenseless, ready to repeat the same mistakes. It's interesting that the book begins with a discussion of brigandage, the phenomenon of a full-blown civil war that ravaged the newly united Italian state from 1861 to 1865. During the Italian army's ferocious repression of the "brigands"—certainly some were, but the rebels' ranks included over ten thousand Bourbon soldiers who refused to join the Italian army, and many laborers disillusioned by a failed agrarian reform—a whole series of repressive actions and techniques were tested and implemented in subsequent periods. These included: "constant abuse of extraordinary military tribunals," "summary executions," "secret repressions following the disappearance of corpses," "waves of imprisonments," and deportations to Italy.

Added to this were the destruction of entire villages and towns, and the killing of civilians—men, women, children, and the elderly. "It was a colonial-style war, which, due to its unprecedented violence and contempt for its adversaries, anticipated those later fought in Africa."

Del Boca's thesis provoked discussions and sharp reactions, as in the case of Indro Montanelli, who countered the historian's ideas by proposing a "mild" Italian colonialism, entirely different from that of our European colleagues and adversaries. Montanelli supported his assertions based on his personal memories, which were valuable but limited and biased. Following extensive and detailed documentation and the Italian government's own admission of the use of chemical weapons in the Horn of Africa, even the renowned journalist from Fucecchio had to step back.


Renato Bonomo
NP November 2025