Speech in Bologna, April 3, 1921

By Benito Mussolini

Fascists of Emilia and Romagna! Citizens of Bologna! All the circumstances, beginning with the reception of last night, by the songs of this night, to this magnificent sea of heads, to the greeting which I received with the greatest veneration from the widow of our unforgettable Giulio Giordani (applause), to the presence of two heroic women—widows of very great heroes: I speak of Battisti and Venezian (applause); all this might carry me off into a sphere of eloquence which is not my own. But I believe, and am almost certain, that you do not expect a rhetorical discourse from me, but a short abrupt speech, as is my style. Thus I will proceed to speak frankly, in the Fascist manner.

I thank my friend Grandi for having presented me to you and with such flattering words. I do not think, however, that I am guilty of the sin of pride if I accept them. I think I may say, in accordance with Socrates, that I know myself (applause). How then was this Fascism born; amid what tumultuous passions, sympathy, hatred, bitterness, and incomprehension? It was not only born in my mind and in my heart; it was not only born in that meeting held in March 1919 in the little hall at Milan; it was born of the profound and perennial need of this our Mediterranean and Aryan race, which felt the essential foundations of its existence threatened by a tragic folly and a mythical tale which today crumbles to pieces, in the very place where it was born (applause).

We felt then—we, who were not penitent Magdalens; we, who had always had the courage to exalt intervention and reason in those days of 1915; we, who were not ashamed of having defeated Austria on the Piave and having crushed her at Vittorio Veneto; we, who wished for a victorious peace, felt at once, almost before the exultation of victory had passed, that our task was not finished, and I myself felt that my work was not finished. In fact, at every turn of events it was said that my task and the task of the forces who follow me was finished. In May 1915, when the Fasci of Revolutionary Action had swept away all neutralists from the streets and squares of Italy, even in the smallest villages, it was said: "Mussolini has nothing more to say to the nation." But when the sad and tragic days of Caporetto came, and Milan was grey and ghastly for those who felt that if the Austrians passed and came to the city of the Cinque Giornate it would be the end of Italy, then we felt that we still had a word to say. And again, after victory, when there arose the more or less democratic school of renunciation which was intent upon mutilating the victory, we Fascists had the supreme and unprejudiced courage to proclaim ourselves imperialists and against all renunciation.

That was the first battle, fought in the theatre of the Scala in January 1919. But how did it happen? We had won; we had sacrificed the flower of our youth, and they came to us with accusations of usury and extortion! They disputed with us the sacred boundaries of the Fatherland, and there were Democrats in Italy, whose democracy consisted in imperialism for others and no imperialism for us, who threw this ridiculous accusation at us, simply because we intended that Italy should be bounded on the north by the Brenner—as she shall be so long as there is Italian blood in Italy! (Applause). We intended that the eastern boundaries should be at the Nevoso, because those are the just and natural boundaries of our Fatherland, and because we did not turn deaf ears to the passion of Fiume, and because we feel in our hearts the sufferings of our brothers in Dalmatia, because ultimately we feel those bonds of race to be alive and vital which bind us, not only to the Italians of Zara, Ragusa and Cattaro, but also to those of the Canton Ticino, even to those Italians who no longer wish to be so, to those in Corsica, to those beyond the oceans, to all that great family of fifty million men whom we wish to unite in the same pride of race (applause). Already we have noticed the first signs of the Socialist offensive. On 16th February, Milan was witnesses—to the shock and terror of the trembling bourgeoisie—a procession of 20,000 Bolsheviks, who, after having hymned Lenin from the top of the castle towers, proclaimed that the Bolshevik revolution was imminent.

On the morrow of that day I issued an article, which made a certain impression also among some friends. It was entitled, "The Return of the Triumphant Beast." In it was said: "We are ready to dig trenches in the squares of Italy and set up barbed wire, in order to win our battle, and fight to the last against the enemy within." And the defeatist battle, begun with that parade, continued through the summer, ad nauseum, when it ignited that investigation into the disaster of Caporetto which a certain infamous, defamed, to be defamed minister (cries of "Death to Nitti! Death to Cagoia! Long live D'Annunzio!"; applause) had added to the fire of exasperation and righteous pains of a good part of the Italian people.

Even then we Fascists had the courage to defend certain actions which, measured by the standard of current morals, perhaps were indefensible. But, gentlemen, war is like revolution, it must be taken as a whole; detail cannot and must not be gone into.

But, in the meantime, the campaign had its results upon the elections. One million eight hundred and fifty thousand electors registered their vote with the symbol of the sickle and the hammer. One hundred and fifty-six deputies to the Chamber. Catastrophe seemed imminent. Then I was fished out, a suicide of the waters—not by any means too limpid—of the old Naviglio!

But one thing had been forgotten—my tenacious spirit and my sometimes indomitable will. I am proud of my four thousand votes—and those who saw me in those days know how immovably I accepted that electoral response, I said: "the battle continues!" Because I firmly believed that the day would come in which the Italians would be ashamed of the elections of 16th November, that the day would come in which the Italians would no longer elect in two cities that ignoble deserter whom I do not wish to name. (Applause. Cries of "Death to Misiano!"). And it has proved true, because this man today, not being able to maintain his part in the drama, has descended from the stage and, having despised the Royal Guard, now asks them for protection.

But the growth of this movement of Fascism, this young, courageous and heroic movement, is not yet finished. I sometimes—I who vindicate the paternity of this, my creature so overflowing with life—I feel sometimes that it has already overstepped the modest boundaries I laid down for it. Now we Fascists have a clear program; we must move on led by a pillar of fire, because we are slandered and not understood. And, however much we might deplore violence, it is evident that we, in order to make our ideas understood, must beat refractory skulls to the sound of blows.

But we do not make a school, a system or, worse still, an aesthetic of violence. We are violent when it is necessary to be so. But I tell you at once that this necessary violence on the part of Fascism must have a character and style of its own, distinctly aristocratic, or, if you prefer, surgical.

Our punitive expeditions, all those acts of violence which figure in the newspapers, must always have the character of a just retaliation and a legitimate reprisal; because we are the first to recognize that it is sad, after having fought the external enemy, to have to fight the enemy within, who, whether they like it or not, are Italians. But it is necessary, and as long as it is necessary, we shall continue to carry out this hard and thankless task.

Now the Democrats, the Republicans and the Socialists accuse us of various things. The Socialists, hitherto, have said that we were sold to the profiteers and the landowners. Now there are not enough profiteers in the whole of Italy to subsidize a movement like ours, and in any case I must say that they would be rather stupid profiteers, because since March of 1919 we Fascists, in our programs, have laid down fiscal provisions which are quite severe and in any case anti-profiteer.

The accusations of the Democrats are equally ridiculous, and also those of the Republicans. I cannot explain to myself why the Republicans are against a movement which has republican tendencies. I could understand them being against us if we were in favour of the monarchy. They say to us: "You have no preconceptions." We have not, and we are proud of it. But you must explain the phenomenon of the anger and the incomprehension of the Socialists. The Socialists had formed in Italy a State within a State. If this new State had been more liberal, more modern, nearer the old type, there would have been nothing against it. But this State, and you know it by direct experience, is more tyrannical, illiberal and criminal than the old one; and for this reason that which we are causing today is a revolution to break up the Bolshevik State, while waiting to settle our accounts with the Liberal State which remains. (Applause).

There are those who think that the Socialist crisis is only limited to a few men; to those small men you know, such as Bucco, Zanardi, Bentini (cries of "Down with them!") and similar human waste; but the crisis goes deeper, my dear friends, and is a collapse of all values. It is not merely an ignoble escape of men, because among other absurd things, there has been that of baptizing Socialism as scientific. Now there is nothing scientific in the world. Science explains the "how" of phenomena, but does not explain the "why." If, then, there is nothing scientific in what are called the exact sciences, what is more absurd and grotesque than trying to pass off as scientific a vast, uncertain, underground and dark movement such as Socialism has been, even though it may have had a useful function at first, when it directed the oppressed peoples towards new ways of life. I am sure you will agree with me that there is no turning back. Foolish contraband, reactionary or conservative, must not be carried on under the Fascist banner. To wrench from the working masses the conquests they have obtained through sacrifice would be impossible. We are the first to recognize that a State law should grant the eight-hour day, and that there should be a social legislation corresponding to the exigencies of the new times. And this is not because we recognize the reigning majesty of the proletariat. We look at the question from another point of view. We realize that there cannot be a great nation, capable of current and potential greatness, if the working masses are constrained to a system of degradation. (Applause). It is necessary, therefore, that by preaching and practicing the reconciliation of right and duty, which I call Mazzinian, this enormous mass of tens of millions of people who work shall be raised to an ever higher level of life.

It is foolish and absurd to depict us as the enemies of the laborious working classes. We feel ourselves to be brothers in spirit of all those who work; but we do not make absurd distinctions; we do not put work-worn hands into the first rank, above the work of the brain. We do not place the new divinity, manual labour, upon the altar. For us all work—the astronomer who in his observatory consults the trajectory of the stars, the lawyer, the archaeologist, the student of religion and the artist, also the miner, the sailor, the farmer, if they are increasing, by their work, the sum total of spiritual wealth which is at the disposal of mankind. All work complements one another; we wish to see the realization of a communion between spirit and matter, between the arm and the brain, the realization of the communion and solidarity of the race.

Fascism is then the blast of all heresies which beats at the doors of all the churches, and says to the old and more or less mournful priest: "Get out of the way of these times which threaten ruin, for our triumphant heresy is destined to bring light to all minds and all souls!" And we say to all men, great and small, of the national political scene: Make way for the youth of Italy, which wishes to impose its faith and its passion. And if you do not make way spontaneously, you will be overwhelmed by our universal punitive expedition, which will collect all the free spirits of the Italian nation and bind them together in a Fascio. (Applause).

We are now face to face with a fact, which is that of the elections. The Chamber being old, and more than old, rotting and decayed, the protagonists of this semi-tragedy being used and abused men, tired and even worse misled, it is time to make that new appeal to the electors which is imperative. Do you not feel that, if the elections of 1919 had the character of defeatism and misianism, the elections of 1921 will be definitely Fascist? Do you not feel that the helm of State will never return to the old men of the old Italy; neither to Salandra, nor to Sonnino, nor to the lachrymose Orlando, nor to the porcine Nitti? Do you not feel that the helm passes through a spontaneous transition from Giovanni Giolitti, the man of the neutralist faction of 1915, to Gabriele D'Annunzio, who is a new man? (Applause; prolonged ovation; cries of "Long live D'Annunzio!").

This your applause says many things; and disperses misunderstandings which have previously been dissipated. I received a message today on the strength of which I feel I can state that the difference, more or less artificially created, which existed between the defenders of Fiume—to whom we pay the homage of our gratitude—and us, her defenders within, has no more raison d'etre. And this difference, which, rather than by the legionaries, was created by certain politicians who were not even at Fiume when it was attacked seriously, will be put an end to by Gabriele D'Annunzio. I think I have said enough because everyone understands. (Applause).

Another characteristic of Fascism is pride in our Italianity. And, in connection with this, I am pleased to tell you that we have already decided the Fascist day. If the Socialists have May Day, if the Popular Party have 15th May, and other parties other days, we Fascists will have one too, and it shall be the day of the Birth of Rome, 21st April. Upon that day, as a sign of Eternal Rome, in memory of that city which gave two civilizations to the world and will give a third, we Fascists and the regional legions will march in the Fascist order, which is neither military nor German, but simply Roman. We have abolished the procession and substituted it with this ancient form of manifestation, which imposes individual control on each participator and order and discipline upon all. For we wish to introduce strict national discipline, without which Italy cannot become the Mediterranean and world nation of which we dream. And those who accuse us of marching like the Germans must remember that it is not we who imitate the Germans, but they who imitate the Romans, for which reason it is we who go back to the original, who return to the Roman, Latin and Mediterranean style.

We have no judicial rulings, because we are not a church, we are a movement. We are not a party, we are a band of free men. If anyone is tired of being Fascist, there are twenty shops, twenty churches at whose doors to knock and ask for hospitality. We have not institutions either, we consider them superfluous. Ours is an army characterized by its passion and voluntary discipline; and known, above all, not in the light of guardian of some party or faction, but as guardian of the nation. We are especially known for the love we feel for Italy, for her history and her civilization, as well as for her inhabitants and geographical structure.

Yesterday, while the train carried me to Bologna, I felt myself in harmony with all things and all men. I felt bound to this earth; I felt myself an infinitesimal part of that magnificent river which flows from the Alps to the Adriatic; I recognized my brothers in the peasants, who possessed the sacred and serious attitudes of those who work the soil; I saw myself in the blue sky, which awakened my inextinguishable passion for flight; I recognized myself in all the aspects of nature and man. And then a profound prayer arose in my heart. It is the prayer that every Italian should recite, when the sunrise illumines the sky and the twilight descends over the earth. "We, Italians of the twentieth century, who have witnessed the great tragedy which has brought about the fulfillment of our nationality; we, who carry in the depths of our souls the memory of all our dead, who are our religion; we, O citizens of Italy, shall make one oath, one single resolution: that we only shall be the modest but tenacious architects of her present and future fortunes." (Applause and ovation).