Come exiled brother, let us embrace. Wherever you are, whatever your name, whatever you do, you are my brother. What does it matter to me if nature and social conventions try to separate you from me, with names, conditions, restrictions or laws?
The heart cannot be restrained, the will knows no limits and by making an effort to love we can overcome all these divisions and reunite as a family.
Don’t you recognise me? Nature placed you elsewhere, made you different, within other borders, you may be German, Romanian, Chinese, Indian… You may be yellow, olive-skinned, black, bronze, copper-toned… but what does it matter?
What does it matter that you are from a different country? When this small, still-glowing globe consolidated, no one could have imagined that for such accidental outgrowths, people would kill each other for ages.
And even today, in the face of our political systems, do you think that nature ever asks our permission to express itself through volcanoes, earthquakes or floods? And do you think it cares about our disparities, appearances or hierarchies?
Unknown brother, love your land, your fragment of the shared crust that supports us, but do not hate mine. Under all the trappings, under the all the social classifications, no matter how codified, you are a soul that God created as a sister to mine, to that of every other person (there is only one Father) and you are like every other person who suffers and perhaps you cause suffering, who needs more than he possesses, who falters, who gets tired, hungry, thirsty, sleepy, like me, like everyone else.
“Unknown brother, love your land, your fragment of the shared crust that supports us, but do not hate mine. (…) In you I recognize the Lord. Free yourself and even now, brothers that we are, let’s embrace. “
You are a poor pilgrim following a mirage. You believe yourself to be the centre of the universe and yet you are nothing more than an atom of this humanity that from millennia to millennia struggles more through sorrow than through joys.
You are a speck, brother, so let’s join forces instead of fighting. Do not be proud, do not isolate yourself, do not accentuate the marks of differentiation devised by man.
Didn’t you cry when you were born, as I did? Will you not groan when you die, as I will? Whatever its earthly shell, the soul will return to be naked, equal. So come. From beyond all seas, climates, all laws, from beyond every social, political or intellectual compartment, from beyond all boundaries (man knows only how to circumscribe, divide and isolate) come, brother.
In you I recognize the Lord. Free yourself and even now, brothers that we are, let’s embrace.
I couldn’t understand how anyone could give life to a young person, have him worn out by studies and sacrifices, in order to prepare him for an operation, in which he would have to kill strangers, unknown, innocent people and in turn, he would be killed by others to whom he had done no harm. I saw the absurdity, the stupidity and above all the sin of war: a sin made more acute by the excuses used to justify it and by the futility with which it was decided.
The Gospel, long meditated upon, taught me that to do good, not to kill was a fundamental duty; to forgive, not to take revenge. And reason itself gave me a sense of how absurd it was to engage in a conflict where victory did not go to the just, but to those with more cannons; not to justice, but to violence.
In the “radiant May” of 1915, I was called to arms. […]
So many bugles, speeches and flags! All this only deepened within me the sense of revulsion for those clashes, in which governments, entrusted with the public good, carried out their task by slaughtering the children of the people, hundreds of thousands and by destroying or allowing the destruction of the assets of the nation: the common good. How stupid it all seemed to me! And I suffered for the millions of people, who were forced to believe in the sanctity of those murders, a sanctity also attested by clerics who blessed the cannons destined to offend God in His masterpiece of creation, to kill God in His image, to carry out fratricide among baptized brothers.
“I saw the absurdity, the stupidity
and above all the sin of war…”
As a recruit I was sent to Modena, where there was a kind of university for the training of warriors and commanders. Coming from the world of Virgil and Dante, the study of certain manuals that taught how to deceive the enemy in order to kill him, had such an effect on me that, in an act of reckless defiance, I wrote in one of them: “Here we are learning the science of imbecility”. I had a very different concept of love of country. I understood it as love and love means service, the pursuit of good, the promotion of well-being, to provide a happier coexistence: for the growth and not for the destruction of life.
But I was young, and I did not understand the reasoning of the older generation, who didn’t really want to understand. They distracted themselves with parades and shouted slogans to numb their senses.
[…]
After a few weeks, having completed my training in Modena, I returned home briefly before departing for the front. I hugged my mother and father, my brothers and sisters (we rarely embraced in my family) and boarded the train. From the train I saw the sea for the first time, much wider than the Aniene River, it felt as though I had fulfilled one of life’s duties. After three days, I reached the trenches along the Isonzo and joined the 111th Infantry Regiment.
The trench. In it, from school I entered life, between the arms of death and cannon fire. […]
If I fired five or six shots, into the air, I did so out of necessity: I never aimed my rifle towards the enemy trenches, for fear of killing a child of God. […]
If all those days spent, in the bottom of the trenches, watching reeds and tufts of brambles and bored clouds and shining blue sky, had been spent working, we would have produced enough wealth to meet all the demands for which the war was being fought. Clearly: but that was reason and war is the opposite of reason.
Igino Giordani Memorie di un cristiano ingenuo, Città Nuova 1994, pp.47-53
War is a mass murder, clothed in a kind of sacred cult, as was the sacrifice of firstborns to the god Baal: and this because of the terror it instils, the rhetoric with which it dresses up and the interests it serves. When humanity has progressed spiritually, war will be classified alongside the bloody rites, the superstitions of witchcraft and other barbaric practices.
It relates to humanity as sickness does to health, as sin to the soul: it is destruction and devastation, striking both soul and body, individuals and the community.
[…]
According to St. Thomas, “All things seek peace”. In fact, they all seek life. Only the insane and the incurable may desire death. And war is death. It is not wanted by the people; it is wanted by minorities to whom physical violence serves to secure economic advantages or, worse, to satisfy base emotions. Especially today, with its cost, its deaths and its ruins, war reveals itself as a “useless slaughter”. A slaughter which is moreover useless. A victory over life which is becoming humanity’s suicide.
According to St. Thomas, “All things seek peace”. In fact, they all seek life. Only the insane and the incurable may desire death. And war is death.
[…] Saying that war is a “useless slaughter “, Benedict XV gave the most precise definition. Cardinal Schuster called it, “a slaughterhouse of men.” It means whole regions destroyed, thousands and thousands of poor people without homes or possessions, forced to wander in the desolate countryside, until death cuts them down from hunger or cold.
[…] The material gains from a victorious war can never compensate for the damage it causes; so much so, that it takes several successive generations to painstakingly rebuild the full sum of spiritual and moral values that were destroyed during an excess of war frenzies[1]. ” […]
[…]
2uman ingenuity, destined for far nobler purposes, has today devised and introduced instruments of war of such power as to arouse horror in the soul of any honest person, above all because they do not only affect armies, but often still overwhelm private citizens, children, women, the old and the sick, as well as sacred buildings and major monuments of art! Who is not horrified at the thought that new cemeteries will be added to the countless ones of the recent conflict and new smoking ruins of towns and cities will pile up more mournful wreckage?» [2]. […] […]
Wars, massacres and bloodshed, extreme polarizations, situations in which even pacifism can become divisive: this is the current situation in which we are immersed.
The figure of Igino Giordani (1894-1980), a man of peace because he was a just and coherent man, gives us some inspiration today to lift our gaze and continue to hope, attempting to foster a dialogue even where it seems impossible, to break down crystallised ideologies and absolutisms, to build an inclusive society and to rebuild peace on unity.
One of the most vivid witnesses of the culture of peace of the twentieth century, his pacifism draws directly from the Gospel: killing another man means murdering a being made in the image and likeness of God. Giordani therefore yearned for peace, spent himself in every possible way for it ways, engaged in dialogue with anyone in the name of peace, did not back down even when it came to lending his support to the ratification of the Atlantic Pact and ensuring the security and defence of Europe and Italy… We can say that his pacifism was comprehensive and spared no effort.
Let’s look at some of his writings.
“…World War I broke out […] And massive pro-war rallies took place in the streets, which I attended so as to protest against the war; so much so that once a person I respected, upon hearing my shouts, admonished me: ‘You’re asking to be killed!’…
[…] In the “radiant May” 1915, I was called to arms. […] […]
The trenches. It was there, that I left school and entered life, in the arms of death under the salvos of cannons. Mud, cold, filth, there I bitterly discovered that the soldiers were all opposed to the ‘murder’ called war, because murder meant the killing of a man: they all detested it… […] We were in Oslavia, near some ruins called Pri-Fabrisu: Later during a three-year hospital stay, I recalled the memory of the agony (from the Greek, “agon” meaning struggle) suffered in those places in a short poem entitled The faces of the dead. I remember the last verse that said: “This is curse of war” [2]».
Giordani was seriously injured and when he returned from the trenches, he spent three years in the military hospital in Milan, suffering irreversible damage to one leg. His pacifism was therefore grounded in life experience. Later, when he was engaged in political life, he always strove for dialogue with everyone, even with those whose views differed from his, firmly believing that every person should always be welcomed and understood. He never entrenched himself in absolute positions. This is how he described his speech in Parliament in favour of the Atlantic Pact:
“I remember a speech I gave in the Chamber on 16th March, 1949 […], about the Atlantic Pact, which had for too long been presented solely in its anti-communist aspect, that is, as a military build-up against the Russians […] I said that every war is a failure of Christians: “If the world were Christian, there would be no wars… […] War, I added, is murder, it is deicide (killing of God’s image, that is, of man who is made in his image) and it is suicide”
Giordani’s speech was applauded by both the right and the left: a patient weaver of relationships, he highlighted the positive value of a choice by Italy that could have been interpreted as in favour of war. Giordani firmly believed that for peace to prevail, every possible path must be pursued, transcending strategic allegiances. He hoped that Christian politics would be capable of unravelling the existing polarizations to act in favour peace.
In 1953, he wrote:
“War is a large-scale murder, cloaked in a kind of sacred cult […]. It is to humanity, what disease is to health, what sin is to the soul: it is destruction and devastation, affecting both body and soul, individuals and communities.
[…] The end may be justice, freedom, honour, bread, but the means produce such destruction of bread, honour, freedom and justice, as well as human lives, including those of women, children, the elderly and innocents of all kinds, which tragically nullifies the very purpose for which they were intended.
In essence, war accomplishes nothing except to destroy lives and wealth
Giordani therefore reminds us that peace is the result of a deliberate project: a project of fraternity among peoples, of solidarity with the most vulnerable, of mutual respect. This is how a more just world is built, today too.
[1] Igino Giordani, L ‘inutilità della guerra, Città Nuova, Rome, 2003, (third edition), p. 57 [2] Igino Giordani, Memorie di un cristiano ingenuo, Città Nuova, Rome 1994, pp.47-51 [3]Idem, p.111 [4] Igino Giordani, L’inutilità della guerra, Città Nuova, Roma, 2003, (third edition), p. 3
Peace is the result of a project: a project of fraternity between peoples, of solidarity with the weakest, of mutual respect. This is how a fairer world is built; this is how war is set aside as a barbaric practice belonging to the dark phase of the history of humanity. Many years have passed since the first publication of this writing, which is still very relevant today, at a time when the world is torn apart by terrible conflicts. History, Giordani tells us, could teach us a lot.
War is murder on a grand scale, clothed in a kind of sacred cult, as was the sacrifice of the first-born to the god Baal: and this is because of the terror it incites, the rhetoric in which it is clothed, and the interests it implies. When humanity will have progressed spiritually, war will be catalogued alongside bloody rites, the superstitions of witchcraft and the phenomena of barbarity.
War is to humanity, like illness to health, like sin to the soul: it is destruction and devastation, it affects body and soul, individuals and the community.
According to Einstein, human beings have a need to hate and to destroy: and war would satisfy this. But it is not so: most human beings, entire peoples, do not manifest this need. At any rate they repress it. Reason and religion condemn it.
« All things crave peace, » according to St Thomas. In fact, they all crave life. Only the insane and the incurable can desire death. And death is war. It is not desired by the people; it is desired by minorities to whom physical violence serves to secure economic advantages or, even, to satisfy harmful passions. Especially today, with the cost of war, the dead and the ruins, war manifests itself as “useless slaughter”. A massacre, and a useless one at that. A victory over life, and one that is becoming a suicide of humanity.
[…] Human ingenuity, destined for quite different purposes, has today devised and introduced instruments of warfare of such power that they strike horror in the soul of any honest person, especially since they do not only affect armies, but often still overwhelm private citizens, children, women, the elderly, the sick, and at the same time, sacred buildings and the most distinguished monuments of art! Who is not horrified at the thought that from the recent conflict, new cemeteries will be added to the numerous existing ones and new smoking remains of villages and towns will accumulate more sad ruins? Who, indeed, does not tremble to think how the destruction of new riches, the inevitable consequence of war, may further aggravate that economic crisis, by which almost all peoples, and especially the humblest classes, are afflicted? » [1]. […]
The futility was reaffirmed by Pius XII in 1951: « Everyone has manifested with equal clarity their horror of war, and their conviction that it is not, and now less than ever, a proper means to settle conflicts and restore justice. This can only be achieved by freely and legally consented understandings. If it could be a question of popular wars – in the sense that such wars respond to the votes and will of the people – it would only be in the case of such a flagrant and destructive injustice of the essential goods of a people as to revolt the conscience of an entire nation. » [2].
Just as the plague serves to infect, hunger to starve, war serves to kill: moreover, it destroys the means of life. It is a funeral industry: a factory of destruction.
Only a fool can hope to derive benefit from a massacre: health from a fainting spell, energy from pneumonia. Evil produces evil, as the palm tree produces dates. And the facts show, even in this field, the practical inconsistency of the Machiavellian saying that « the end justifies the means ».
The end may be justice, freedom, honour, bread: but the means produce such destruction of bread, honour, freedom and justice, as well as of human lives, including those of women, children, the elderly, the innocent of all kinds, that they tragically annul the very end that is proposed.
In essence, war serves no purpose other than destroying lives and riches.
