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ISSN 1355-6509 © St Jerome Publishing, Manchester
The Translator. Volume 6, Number 1 (2000), 67-86
The Censorship of Translation in Fascist Italy
CHRISTOPHER RUNDLE
University of Genova, Italy
Abstract. The purpose of this essay is to begin an examination into
how the fascist regime reacted to the high number of translations
which were being published in Italy; in particular translations from
English during a period, the 1930s, when Britain was often a
political antagonist and Anglo-American culture in general was
seen by the regime as a harmful and decadent influence on the
Italian people. The article focuses on non-periodical publications:
this means that the figures given do not take into account, for
example, the many translations which were published in literary
journals.1
The period 1924-26 was crucial in determining the long-term fortunes of the
fascist government. In 1924 the crisis sparked off by the murder of the so-
cialist politician Giacomo Matteotti almost led to Mussolini’s downfall. In
late 1926, in the wake of a surge of fascist anger and violence after the third
assassination attempt that year on Mussolini, the fascist government inter-
vened brutally: it closed down all remaining opposition papers, or forcibly
‘aligned’ them, and suppressed all opposition parties. By the end of the year
the regime was effectively in place. Once Mussolini felt himself to be firmly
in power he, and the liberal and nationalist forces on whose support his gov-
ernment depended, wanted to normalize the situation. They felt that what
was needed was a strong government that could bring stability to the coun-
try, and with all opposition either silenced or driven underground, there was
to be no more need for the notorious street-fighting tactics of the fascist
squadristi which had helped bring Mussolini to power, but which had also
led to the Matteotti crisis, and were now a source of unwanted instability. A
struggle therefore ensued to curb the destabilizing influence of the PNF, the
Partito Nazionale Fascista, which defended the ethos of the squadristi and
was able at times to call into question the Duce’s authority. Eventually the
PNF was brought into line with the new moderate orthodoxy both through
reform of its structure, which effectively disenfranchized its unruly rank and
file members, and through the flooding of its ranks with tame and obedient
new members. Spontaneous gang violence ceased to be an acceptable fascist
political tool and the task of political policing became almost the sole pre-
serve of the police prefects and the Interior Ministry.2
The Censorship of Translation in Fascist Italy68
There followed a period of relative stability in Italy, which has come to
be known by some as ‘the years of consent’, and which lasted up until the
Ethiopian war in 1935-36, when Mussolini’s popularity reached its peak,
only then to decline as he dragged the country reluctantly into the civil war
in Spain, into a largely unpopular alliance with Nazi Germany, and eventu-
ally into the Second World War.
The exact nature of this ‘consent’ is much debated and is not the subject
of this study. What concerns us is that Mussolini set about winning consent:
he wanted to be popular, he wanted to win the hearts and minds of the peo-
ple, and he knew that he could not achieve this by violent means. The result
was that while the opposition was brutally silenced, (without its members
being, in most cases, actually physically destroyed),3 all the propaganda skills
at his command, and these were considerable, were used to seduce, cajole
and hoodwink Italians into believing that his coming into power heralded the
beginning of a new era of prosperity and national pride, unmatched since the
days of the Roman Empire.
The bulk of his propagandist energies were therefore focused on an effec-
tive control and manipulation of the press. Then, as developments in modern
communications started to take root, attention was also paid to other forms
of mass communication and entertainment such as the cinema, theatre and
radio. The assault on the Italian press and other forms of entertainment os-
tensibly had a twofold objective. On the one hand the aim was to saturate the
public with images and accounts of fascist successes and triumphs; on the
other it was to make sure that no space was given to any form of criticism of
Mussolini and the regime, even when this was constructive criticism from a
sympathetic source.
In this context then, I intend to look specifically at what action was taken
concerning books. In particular I want to look at how the regime reacted to
the vast influx of translated fiction, especially English and American popular
fiction. I wish to establish whether translations met with the same hostility
that was afforded to other manifestations of Anglo-American culture, and
whether any positive steps were taken to obstruct their diffusion in Italy.
Were translations perceived as yet another symptom of that disease which so
worried the fascists: unconditional admiration for all things American? Or
were they largely ignored by the regime, thereby providing Italian readers
with some much needed variety and excitement amidst the stiflingly ortho-
dox literary climate that prevailed in Italy at the time?
1. Censorship in the regime
During the 1920s there was no centralized censor – unless we could say that
Mussolini himself performed this function. In line with the press clamp down
in 1925-26, all press agencies were also closed, except the Agenzia Stefani,
Christopher Rundle 69
which became in effect the state press agency. All papers had to apply to the
Agenzia Stefani for news, and by maintaining a tight control over the agency
and monitoring all papers closely, the regime maintained an effective control
over the information which was published. This control was exercised ini-
tially by the Interior Ministry and its Press Office (Ufficio Stampa), delegated
at a local level to the police prefects.
In August 1933 Galeazzo Ciano, Mussolini’s son-in-law and the future
Foreign Minister, became head of the Press Office, taking over from Gaetano
Polverelli. The placing of Mussolini’s protégé in this position signalled an
increasing awareness on the part of Mussolini of the importance of the Press
Office and an increased willingness to invest in it. Ciano brought with him
more generous funding and prestigious new premises. Later the same year
Goebels came and visited Italy giving advice on how to organize an effective
instrument of censorship and propaganda. Ciano put pressure on Mussolini
and the next year, in 1934, the Press Office was upgraded to the State Secre-
tariat (sottosegretariato di stato) for the Press and Propaganda. After barely
a year the Secretariat was upgraded again and became a Ministry.
What was it then that the regime wanted from the press? It wanted con-
stant attention given to the ‘great’ achievements of fascism and its heroes; it
wanted the exalting of fascist, family and Christian values; it wanted the
press to promote the image of a serious, virile, hard-working people, driven
by a love of the nation and its great leader the Duce. A look at a few of the
telegrams sent by the Ministry of the Interior to the police prefects (so that
they could then forward instructions to local papers) will give us a sense of
some of the regime’s main concerns. Luigi Federzoni, the then Interior Min-
ister, wrote in 1925:
We recommend all organs of public opinion to tone down the con-
tinual and furious arguing which is in contrast with the hard-working
tranquillity of the absolute majority of the nation. (My emphasis)4
Ferretti, the Director of the Press Office, wrote in 1928:
Instead of lapsing into watered-down narratives ... instead of indulg-
ing in useless and sterile polemics and attacks, which nearly always
have some personal basis, and which create the impression of exas-
perated spirits which in no way reflects the hard-working tranquillity
of the great majority of the nation, the papers would do a patriotic
thing if they were to concentrate on important issues regarding cul-
ture and scientific progress. (My emphasis)5
The regime also wanted favourable opinions from abroad reported, and a
team of almost 40 translators were employed at the Press Office of the Min-
istry for Foreign Affairs to scour the foreign press and translate articles of
The Censorship of Translation in Fascist Italy70
interest concerning Italy or Mussolini. Critics of the regime were to be ridi-
culed and the ‘degenerate’ democratic culture of the West denigrated. The
regime did not want anything that might in some way contradict or be in
contrast with these aims. So all news stories of crime, murder, incest, sui-
cides, rapes, sexual deviance, and so on had to be severely curtailed. They
were preferably not to be reported at all, and when absolutely necessary only
in the sparest detail. The justification for this was that
These publications [full of “horrifying blood crimes”] create unwar-
ranted alarm amongst the populace and lend themselves to oblique
foreign manipulation to the detriment of our country. (Federzoni 1925)
[Dramatization of crime news] is a bad habit of the press which must
absolutely stop as it disturbs the spirits of the people [turba gli spiriti]
and is material which can daily be exploited by the international press
which is hostile to the regime STOP. (Capasso-Torre, Director of the
Press Office, 1927)6
However, not only were events of this kind not to be seen occurring in Italy:
the regime did not want the populace acquiring a taste for them in the theatre,
cinema, or from books. The same criterion, then, was applied in the censor-
ship of entertainment, especially foreign entertainment which was seen as
the main offender. Again the justification for this kind of control was that it
was damaging to the moral fibre of the people. A very vivid evocation of the
potential ills of ‘foreign’ (i.e. Anglo-American) culture can be found in a
speech to the Senate by Dino Alfieri, which is undated but was probably
given after June 1936 when he succeeded Galeazzo Ciano as Minister. In
this instance he is talking about the censorship his Ministry applies to the
cinema:
First of all we must rigorously uphold [the nation’s] morals; without
giving way to unreasonable prejudices. But it is certainly no preju-
dice to want to defend at any cost the spiritual and physical health of
our race. Corrupt nations don’t conquer empires but lose them. ...
Immorality immediately reveals itself as such and cannot withstand
the spirit’s inevitable reaction; but it is this confusion between good
and evil, this psychology which insinuates doubt in the souls of our
new generations which we cannot and never shall accept. It really
would be unheard of if a constructive regime such as ours should
allow itself to be taken by surprise and undermined in such a vast
sector. ... For this reason we intend to exercise increasingly strict con-
trol in order to prevent the circulation of those films of foreign
importation which, though they apparently contain no visible nega-
tive elements, from an ethical or political point of view harbour within
Christopher Rundle 71
them corrupting and dissoluting germs which strike the imagination
of sections of the public and slowly insinuate themselves only to flower
up again later, even much later, in all their virulent destructiveness.7
The censorship of the theatre and cinema falls beyond the scope of this arti-
cle.8 Suffice it to say that the scale of these industries was such that it was
feasible for the regime to exert preventive control over the works which were
performed or shown, though it was not until the mid-thirties onwards that
such control was effectively applied to the cinema. One fact that does con-
cern us is that a variety of quota systems were applied to the showing and
performing of foreign works. This quota system was a measure designed to
protect the Italian theatre and cinema industries from the competition of for-
eign (largely American) imports on the market, however, rather than a reaction
against the possible effects of a foreign culture on the Italian people.9
Books however, received very little organized attention. A watch was
kept by the police prefects on what was being sold in the bookshops (a system
that therefore operated at a local level) and they could appeal to a higher
political authority if in doubt over what steps to take over a specific case.
The first piece of fascist legislation which specifically mentioned the censoring
of books (editoria) was the decree law R.D.L.24/10/1935 n.2040, which
elevated the State Secretariat for the Press and Propaganda to Ministry level.
The Ministry was given the authority to order the confiscation of any offend-
ing publication, and a Divisione Libri was created and given the responsibility
for examining “all non-periodical publications”, thereby implying that prior
approval was needed in order to publish. The lack of evidence that this sort
of action took place regularly, however, would seem to imply that, at least as
far as books are concerned, this law remained a dead letter and did not bring
about any important changes in their censorship. This impression is confirmed
by an internal report of the Ministry written much later in 1943, which states
that “the problem of book production [has], until now, been completely
ignored”.10
So that although books were technically speaking supposed to be pub-
lished once they had been approved by the censor, in fact they tended to be
published without prior approval at the publisher’s own risk. The censor might
then be called in to evaluate a work once it was already in print. Alterna-
tively, publishers might, on their own initiative, request a prior opinion from
either the prefect or the Ministry. But even if the Ministry approved a publi-
cation, this was no guarantee that it would not be impounded anyway.
The Ministry does not appear to have functioned as a single centralized
censor. Detailed censorship and expurgation of publications continued to be
carried out by the local police prefect’s office as well. Even at this local
level, however, it would appear that periodical publications absorbed most
of the censor’s time and energies.11
The Censorship of Translation in Fascist Italy72
Furthermore, up until 1938 no distinction was made between foreign and
Italian literature. No specific procedure was established for translations, there
was no specific censorship criteria. Although the regime recognized the in-
fluence of translations, talked of the insidious effects of foreign culture
generally, and complained about the high numbers of translations being pub-
lished, it was reluctant to openly obstruct the flow of foreign literature. This
may have been for a number of reasons.
Firstly, an efficient system of preventive censorship would not have tal-
lied with the regime’s pretence at maintaining a degree of freedom of speech.
Even when efforts were made later to curb translations, these were made
using official instructions sent via discrete channels, and not openly through
any legislative measure.
Secondly, the regime was aware how lucrative the translation market was
and was probably reluctant to damage publishers with restrictions, given that
the publishers had proved on the whole to be loyal supporters of fascism, and
with whom a constructive working relationship had developed.
Furthermore, the regime probably felt that books did not exert an influ-
ence on the public ‘mood’ or ‘spirit’ comparable to the propaganda potential
of the cinema or the theatre. Reading was largely indulged in by middle and
upper class Italians who on the whole either supported the regime or, at worst,
passively tolerated it.12 Consequently, any negative influence that foreign lit-
erature might have had was countered by the perceived reliability of the vast
majority of the reading public.
Finally, at least until the late thirties, the regime probably felt that there
was no need to police the introduction of foreign literature as it was confi-
dent that fascist culture was equal to the competition; they were confident
that Italians would seek out fascist culture of their own accord. Again in the
words of Alfieri,
... the public, the general public at least likes and prefers healthy read-
ing, of the kind that not only helps pass the time but that allows them
to profit from the time spent in terms of knowledge or at least in
gaining spiritual edification.13
2. The translation industry
In actual fact the situation was very different. So great was the Italian pub-
lic’s taste for popular fiction, especially Anglo-American fiction, that it had
led to a veritable translation boom during the thirties, contributing to the
success of publishing houses such as Mondadori and Bompiani, to name but
two of the most famous. The figures are interesting.
Throughout the thirties, contrary to what one might expect, Italy trans-
lated consistently more than any other country in the world (at least among
Christopher Rundle 73
those for whom figures are available). The graphs that follow compare the
three countries who published the highest number of translations.
(i) Number of Translations Published in Selected Countries 1932-39
0
200
400
600
800
1000
1200
1932 1933 1934 1935 193 6 1937 1938 1939
Italy
France
Germany
If we look at ‘literary’ translations then Italy stands out even more:
(ii) Number of Literary Translations Published in Selected Countries 1932-1939
0
100
200
300
400
500
600
700
800
1932 1933 1934 1935 1936 1937 1938 1939
Ita l
y
France
German
y
Of the translations published in Italy the greatest proportion were literary
texts (on average 68%): of these an average of 34% were translations from
English, with a peak of 42% in 1937. Next in descending order were transla-
tions from French with an average of 28.6%.14
The Censorship of Translation in Fascist Italy74
(iii) Percentage of Literary Translations into Italian from English and French
0
5
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
1932 1933 1934 1935 1936 1937 1938 1939
% from
ENGLISH
% from
FRENCH
The vast majority of these translations were of ‘popular’ literature: crime and
adventure novels, romances – what are called feuilleton or romanzi d’ap-
pendice in Italian – which were worldwide bestsellers at the time.
This flow of translations is a graphic illustration of how wide the gap was
between the propaganda of the regime and the reality it pretended to repre-
sent: far from preferring ‘healthy reading’, the Italian public was developing
an appetite for the novels of Agatha Christie, Edgar Wallace, Zane Grey and
P. G. Wodehouse. Despite official disapproval of the effects of Anglo-
American culture, English and American literature continued to be imported
into the country unhindered, and Italian readers cultivated their taste for it
unchecked.
3. The Axis and the racial laws
By 1938 it was difficult to continue pretending that fascist culture was popu-
lar with the general public. Gherardo Casini, the Director for Italian Press at
the Ministry for Popular Culture, wrote:
The tendency of publishers to print foreign books undoubtedly re-
flects a marked tendency of our public to read what is produced abroad.
... It is not just a matter of counting how many French novelettes,
Jewish storytellers, Hungarian playwrights or American pseudo-sci-
entists have been translated into Italian. We are more concerned to
know whether this is not one of the symptoms which reflect the present
state of Italian culture, and its continued subjection to certain forms
of foreign culture.15
It would hardly be surprising if, given this perceived subjection to foreign
Christopher Rundle 75
culture, the regime should more aggressively try to counter the flow of trans-
lated literature, whose success must have been so galling. And, in fact, the
conditions for these translations became steadily more difficult from 1937
onwards. This coincided with the build up towards, and the introduction of,
the infamous anti-Semitic racial laws which were introduced in 1938 follow-
ing the formation of the Rome-Berlin Axis.
In January 1937 the prefects were told to order all publishers under their
jurisdiction to send complete lists of their books in print and those about to
be printed “in order that we can monitor and co-ordinate all Italian book
production with greater discipline and rationality”.16 Furthermore, it became
a requirement that publishers seek prior permission for all publications and
that they notify the Ministry each time they decided to translate a foreign
work. Ostensibly these measures served to collect data for a bibliographical
survey which the Ministry had launched, but they are also important in that
they provide the first official sign of a potentially hostile attitude to transla-
tions on the part of the authorities.
In May 1937 the Ministry underwent a further upgrade. It changed its
name to Ministry for Popular Culture (Ministero della Cultura Popolare)
and the number of people working for it rose from 183 to 800. In January
1938 the Ministry requested a list from publishers of all the translations that
they had both published and were intending to publish.17 This request is further
indication of the Ministry’s increasing sensitivity on the subject of translations
and particularly to the fact that so many were being published in Italy. During
1938 and 1939, it seems that the Ministry restricted itself to monitoring the
translations which were being published a little more closely without actually
intervening against them. It should be said that while there can be no doubt
that the fascist regime deeply disapproved of Anglo-American culture, there
is no evidence to justify attributing this increasingly hostile attitude to
translations to anti-American and anti-British sentiment alone. The problem
was really of a more general nature. As we shall see later, the regime did not
like the image of Italy as a very receptive country, and eventually its distaste
for this image would outweigh its scruples in openly obstructing the pub-
lication of translations, and limits would be imposed on their numbers.
In the meantime the anti-Semitic campaign which was one of the legacies
of the pact with Germany was steadily getting under way. The Ministry formed
a special commission called the Commission for the Purifying of Books
(Comissione di Bonifica del libro),18 whose principle aim was to examine all
books printed since WWI and eliminate those by Jewish authors. Work pro-
gressed slowly however. The first meeting was held in October 1938, when
they discussed the general need
that literature and art on the one hand, and the culture of the people
and of the young on the other, conform to the aspirations of the new
Italian Soul and to the requirements of fascist ethics.
The Censorship of Translation in Fascist Italy76
At the 6th meeting in February 1940 the commission finally made some
decisions. Firstly, the commission unanimously agreed that Jewish works
which had become classics (“which are by now part of our universal cultural
heritage”) could be published and sold freely. Secondly, concerning contem-
porary Jewish authors, there were two schools of thought: the publisher
Arnoldo Mondadori and a colleague felt the Ministry should examine each
case separately. Mondadori (“this last in favour of foreign authors of particu-
lar value and importance”) was clearly defending his own privileged province
of translations and probably felt that in such a scenario he would, in most
cases, be able to exert his considerable influence and obtain a favourable
decision from the Ministry. Two other members of the commission however,
argued that “any work by any Italian or foreign Jewish author should abso-
lutely be excluded quite independently of any possible merit”. The conclusion
states: “the commission has adopted the intransigent viewpoint”.19 Most Jewish
literature was therefore banned and a blacklist of Jewish authors was eventu-
ally distributed.20
4. The case of Americana
In the wake of the anti-Semitic drive, and with war approaching, the climate
became harsher for translations. Nationalistic considerations now became
more important and aggravated that climate of xenophobic hostility that the
anti-Semitic policies of the regime had already fostered. In the Autumn of
1939, Alessandro Pavolini replaced Alfieri as Minister. Pavolini had been a
journalist and the founding editor of the literary journal Il Bargello: he enter-
tained a very fascist notion of culture and its role21 and was an unabashed
promoter of the regime’s racial policies:
But the edges of that great and pure current which is the Italian tradi-
tion … were clouded, in the dark years of our nation’s life, by a
disorganized and poisonous importation of doctrines, intellectual fash-
ions, modes of thought, of art and of life that were entirely alien to
the style and genius of the race. It is our constant effort, by now largely
realized, to purify our native culture from this marginal pollution.
The purification of books, the monitoring of translations, the selec-
tion of foreign books and periodicals for importation, an ever more
severe selection of theatrical, musical and cinematographic produc-
tions from abroad: all these and other analogous provisions … have
helped to render our Italian culture ever more ‘Italian’. Italian: that is
herself, free from any small-minded protectionism, but conscious of
her own eternal role as disseminator rather than receiver.22
This passage is very telling. The minister is reluctant to acknowledge the
xenophile tastes of the Italian people which are considered undignified, so he
Christopher Rundle 77
minimizes the ‘pollution’ of foreign imports as a marginal phenomenon. He
clearly feels that Italy should by right export more culture than it imports:
that Italian culture should receive the same degree of attention abroad as it
gives to foreign culture at home.
On 10 June 1940 Italy declared war against both Britain and France. That
Autumn the Ministry held a series of meetings with various representatives
of the publishing world, including amongst others Vallecchi, who was the
President of the Publishers’ Federation, and Mondadori.23 There was talk of
a maximum quota of 10% being applied to translations. Things came to a
head during a meeting with a group of representatives of the Federation when
the Minister Pavolini instructed the publishers that the number of transla-
tions being published must be reduced. He said that Italy must have a great
national literature worthy of the important political role that Italy was play-
ing on the world stage, a typical fascist blend of cultural and political aims,
and that for this reason he intended to
limit translations of foreign works, when these are not of particular
value, and restrict the importation of foreign books to a minimum.
All this, however, would concern so called ‘fictional’ works and works
of entertainment, and would not involve classics or scientific works.24
In the nationalistic climate of the war, questions of national prestige were
becoming more important than any other consideration.
These issues come out in Pavolini’s correspondence with the publisher
Valentino Bompiani over the authorization of an anthology of contemporary
American literature entitled Americana. The letters provide us with rare docu-
mentary evidence of the attitude of the Ministry towards translations and of
what tactics publishers would use to negotiate the publishing of a potentially
‘sensitive’ translation. What this episode shows us is that despite the much
harsher climate in which the publication of translations was being negoti-
ated, there was still a surprising amount of room for manoeuvre. The anthology
Americana was edited by Elio Vittorini and it has become a famous instance
of fascist censorship, largely due to the fame of Vittorini, who was also the
victim of another notorious case when the literary journal Solaria was con-
fiscated in part for having serialized his novel Il Garofano rosso. Americana
was a selection of pieces by contemporary American authors, translated by a
number of Italian writers including Eugenio Montale, Alberto Moravia and
Cesare Pavese.
In November 1940 Bompiani writes to Pavolini as follows:
When I had the honour of being received about 20 days ago, I asked
you if the limitations on translations of which you were talking also
applied to classics of the various literatures, and I referred in par-
ticular to two short novels by HENRI JAMES [sic] and to the
The Censorship of Translation in Fascist Italy78
anthology AMERICANA. You replied that they did not, and in ac-
cordance with your instructions I immediately suspended publication
of a number of modern foreign works and continued preparing the
two mentioned above, the proofs of which were sent to the Ministry
shortly afterwards.25
This letter confirms the Ministry’s preference for communicating restrictions
of this kind in private interviews rather than by written instruction, which
would have been the normal channel. This is consistent with Pavolini’s de-
sire not to be seen as a ‘small-minded protectionist’ and is in line with the
regime’s habit of denying, for the benefit of foreign observers, that it exerted
control over what was published,26 and that the press in particular, but all
cultural activity in general, was simply the spontaneous expression of the
‘hard-working’ fascist people. The only censorship that the regime would
admit to was that which they argued was morally justified, and from 1938
onwards that which enforced the new racial laws. It is also interesting to
observe Bompiani’s skill in handling the minister. Aware of Pavolini’s atti-
tudes, he has, by a kind of slight of hand, slipped in his anthology of
contemporary American authors, who have hardly had time to become clas-
sics yet, alongside two short novels by an author of almost unquestionable
stature and moral probity. Unfortunately for Bompiani, the minister was not
taken in by this manoeuvre. The letter continues:
Now I am told that, for reasons of general disposition, you will not
allow the publication of the American anthology, this when, unfortu-
nately, due to the festive season, and assured of your later approval,
we have already printed three quarters of the work.
It is noteworthy that the Ministry will not publicly give a reason for this ban,
beyond the meaningless reference to a general disposition (ragioni di indole
generali): to do so would be to risk an indefensible justification. Bompiani,
for his part, does not give up easily, and so plays the card of the inevitable
financial damage which he will suffer because of this ban. He then tries to
rescue his original sleight of hand by attempting an even more ambitious
one: he tells Pavolini that the American anthology was to be the first of a
series of anthologies of Classic literature, including four volumes of Italian
classics, one volume of German classics, one of Hungarian and one of
Scandinavian classics, all “balanced by analogous publications in the vari-
ous countries from which we are translating”, and finally tries to pass the
whole enterprise off as an effort to promote Italian literature:
this enterprise … has an obvious cultural purpose and will contrib-
ute to a better and wider diffusion and understanding of ancient and
modern Italian literature in our country and abroad.
Christopher Rundle 79
I have quoted at length from this letter because it brings home to us the posi-
tion of publishers dealing with fascist censorship. On the one hand they
benefited from a degree of laxity and flexibility which gave them room for
manoeuvre and negotiation; on the other, they suffered from never really
knowing what the ‘official’ position would be, and from the tendency on the
part of the Ministry to change its mind – with sometimes quite serious finan-
cial consequences for the publisher. That censorship was applied so
inconsistently is not surprising when one considers the regime’s reluctance
to ever admit to censoring publications, and the absence therefore of any
clearly defined policy.
Bompiani was clearly not one to be easily discouraged, however. A month
after the letter quoted above, he sent Pavolini a volume entitled ‘Love letters
of Italian Writers’ claiming it was the first of that same series which Ameri-
cana was to have been a part of. Then in January of 1941 Vittorini went to a
meeting with Pavolini where he showed him the proofs of Americana. Fol-
lowing this meeting Pavolini writes to Bompiani to repeat his ban on
publication. His justification for this decision reveals the same concerns that
he expressed in the speech quoted above:
The work is admirable both for the judgement shown in selecting the
material and in the information provided, as well as for the presenta-
tion as a whole. I remain of the opinion, however, that publishing
this anthology – at this moment in time – is not a good idea. The
United States are a potential enemy of ours: their President has shown
himself to be hostile to the Italian people. This is no time to perform
acts of courtesy towards America, not even literary ones. Further-
more, the anthology would simply rekindle that excessive enthusiasm
which has been shown for recent American literature: a fashion which
I am determined not to encourage.27
Pavolini then goes on to congratulate Bompiani on his intention of counter-
balancing the anthologies of foreign literature he intends to publish with
analogous publications abroad, and adds: “if an anthology of Italian litera-
ture were actually to be published in America then I would see no difficulty
in allowing Americana to be published here”.
Here, then, we come to the nub of the question. Pavolini admires the
work but does not want to encourage the idea that the Italians have a dis-
proportionately keen appetite for foreign literature. Neither does he want to
appear small-minded, however, so he clings to a rather arbitrary principle of
reciprocity.28
Bompiani did not insist further on the matter of Americana, but did re-
quest that he be refunded some of the money lost as a consequence of the
ban; a request which Pavolini refused, though he agreed that the Ministry
The Censorship of Translation in Fascist Italy80
might buy a certain number of copies of his anthologies of classics by way of
compensation. This concession is interesting, in that it betrays a desire on the
part of Pavolini to appease Bompiani in some way, though he was under no
obligation to do so. It is impossible to say whether he does this out of a sense
of friendship for Bompiani, or because he felt he had to make up for a harsh
decision. Over the next year Bompiani kept up the pressure on Pavolini with
a letter in March 1941 announcing the publication of another volume in the
series of anthologies, and a letter in December 1941 where he provided
Pavolini with a list of his publications, underlining the number of Italian
works in his catalogue.
Then in March 1942 there was a breakthrough. Back in February 1941
Bompiani had tried to argue that far from encouraging an excessive enthusi-
asm for American literature, an anthology such as his would have the opposite
effect and “throw water on the fire” given that the quality of the classics in
his anthology would cast the moderns currently in vogue in an unfavourable
light.29 In line with this reasoning, Bompiani had the eminent critic Emilio
Cecchi write an introduction expressing a rather critical opinion of contem-
porary American literature, to replace the enthusiastic introduction originally
written by Vittorini. In this new guise, Pavolini finally agreed to let Bompiani
publish Americana:
The preface by Emilio Cecchi is excellent and should make it possi-
ble to authorize the publication of the anthology of American writers:
but … the notes [by Vittorini] which precede each group of writers
must be removed as they are not only unadvised at the current state
of affairs, unilateral and critically questionable, but they wholly con-
tradict the position expressed by the preface.30
Before the volume could actually come out, then, Vittorini’s introductory
notes to each section of the anthology were also removed and were replaced
by a selection of critical writings chosen by Cecchi. That Americana did not
meet with the approval of the fascist cadres is borne out by the following
unsigned note to the new Minister Gaetano Polverelli, who was appointed to
succeed Pavolini in February 1943, and which is worth reading for its curios-
ity value alone:
In the days of the massacres at Grossetto, in Sardinia and in Sicily,
the editor Bompiani has the gall to publish a ‘lump’ [mattonissimo]
entitled ‘AMERICANA’, an anthology of little value with a preface
by an academic and translations by Vittorini; an anthology modelled
on that Jew Lewis. And the same Bompiani continues to publish and
republish Cronin, Steinbeck and others – out and out Bolsheviks, and
in any case extremely pernicious. Mondadori too, having for years
helped to ‘educate’ our youth to appreciate American immorality and
Christopher Rundle 81
frivolousness with the series ‘La Palma’ and the crime series, today
continues to publish English and American authors.
[In red type, the Cabinet Chief has added:]
I agree entirely. I have given instructions that a strict ban be applied
and that the titles mentioned above be taken out of circulation
[In blue pencil, the Minister himself has written:]
“Yes. It’s time this stopped!”31
The cabinet reshuffle in which Polverelli succeeded Pavolini as Minister,
just over 5 months before Mussolini was deposed, only made conditions for
translations harsher. The new minister was sent a report by the General Di-
rectorate for the Italian Press, Division IV (the office which was supposed to
be monitoring the translations being published in Italy) in which a lot of
emphasis is placed on past laxity and on the renewed severity now being
operated by the Directorate in protection of the ‘newer generations’.
The report begins with a list of problems which needed to be solved,
including:
Concerning comics:
a) An almost complete Americanization, carried out via the repro-
duction of illustrations which are either imported or simply copied
from foreign models. …
Concerning books:
f) The diffusion of works which are absolutely incompatible with
the new international political situation and the current state of con-
flict. …
h) The invasion of translations of foreign works, which are often
disrespectful of Italy, nearly always very mediocre, and essentially
inflationary: hindering the rebirth of a healthy national production.32
The report outlines the severe measures which the Ministry had recently
taken to purge children’s comics and adventure stories: removing all ‘harm-
ful’ material, such as Buffalo Bill and Mandrake, and making them more
Italian, to the extent that the characters with Anglo-Saxon physiognomies
were “drastically eliminated”. It then moves on to books in general and states
that
of the books presented for revision (86% Italian and 14% foreign
[not clear if this means translations]), about a third (35%) were ap-
proved without comment, a third (34%) had substantial modifications
suggested, and the remaining third was not authorized. Of the for-
eign books that were to be translated ex novo or reprinted, 60% were
rejected. In this way only excellent foreign material was approved, in
a proportion of merely 8% compared to the Italian material.33
The Censorship of Translation in Fascist Italy82
5. Conclusion
Contrary to what we might have expected, then, there was no ‘blacklist’ con-
cerning translations, or even Italian authors, until the racial laws in 1938.
Each case was considered, when it was considered, on its individual merits.
Up until the onset of the war there was no official policy against translations
or against the importation/introduction of foreign literature, and when limits
were finally imposed they tended to be applied generally and were not openly
aimed at any single culture.
This picture of an unhindered flow of translated literature into Italy needs
to be set into perspective, however: we should not under-estimate micro-
effects on translations of the cultural climate in which they were being
published. The absence of any real policy against translations or foreign lit-
erature, even in such a nationalistic country as Italy became under fascism,
does not mean that the translations which were published in their millions,
(thousands of titles), were uncensored. The moral crusade which the regime
embarked on and which it successfully imposed on all forms of culture, in-
formation and entertainment also took its toll on translations. On the evidence
available, and if Mondadori and Bompiani are to be taken as typical, it would
seem that a large proportion of the translations that were published had un-
dergone some kind of review, as a precautionary measure, by the publishers
themselves, and where necessary were bowdlerized. It is difficult, if not im-
possible, however, to measure the scale of this process of self-censorship.
The regime exerted no systematic control but the threat of its intervention,
the occasional instances where editions were impounded, were enough to
ensure that a large amount of material that the regime would have considered
offensive was probably removed. Very few publishers could afford the fi-
nancial risk of publishing an unacceptable book without censoring it. If a
book was impounded they got no compensation (as we saw in the case of
Americana) and could therefore risk bankruptcy because of an unfortunate
decision. It was in the publisher’s interest therefore to try and remove any
potentially dangerous material. If doubts remained, then prior permission was
in some cases sought, though this was not a failsafe option as the Ministry
was quite capable of revoking an earlier decision.
By the thirties the people working both in the press and in publishing had
a fairly good idea of what was likely to offend those in authority. When
faced, then, with a work which was at risk – because it dealt with the theme
of incest, or contained a suicide, or portrayed Italians in a negative light – the
publishers faced two options: either remove the offending material and go
ahead, or seek a prior opinion from the Ministry.
If the status of the text was such that they could manipulate it freely, then
they did not hesitate to remove anything that might put the enterprise at risk.
They were apparently sensitive to the damage they might do to the work, and
they were wary of offending the authors and losing the rights to a potential
Christopher Rundle 83
bestseller, but the risk of having an edition confiscated was clearly a more
important consideration.
If, on the other hand, the importance of the author made it imperative not
to put his or her contract with the publishing house at risk by making too
many unauthorized cuts, or the artistic status of the work imposed a greater
than usual level of respect, then the publisher could apply to the Ministry
arguing that the importance of the work and its author were such that certain
‘faults’ should be overlooked.34
What the study of translation in this period highlights is the surprising
permeability of the ‘totalitarian’ fascist state. Despite its nationalistic and
partisan exaltation of all things Italian, it was unable to organize any effec-
tive resistance against the invasion of Anglo-American culture, a culture that
it so deeply disapproved of. Another surprising fact that emerges from this
study is the reluctance of the regime to admit that it was exerting any control
over what was being published. The fascists were very sensitive to world
opinion and sought to maintain the illusion of an industrious and contented
people basking in the reflected glory of their beloved leader. This same propa-
ganda, however, also tied their hands, given that any drastic censorship
measures would also be an admission that the consensus enjoyed by the re-
gime was not as unanimous and as uncritical as the regime liked to think.
CHRISTOPHER RUNDLE
Via Cerbai 2, 40134 Bologna, Italy. rundle@altavista.net
Abbreviations
ACS Archivio centrale dello stato, Rome
AFM Archive of the Fondazione Arnoldo e Alberto Mondadori, Milan
ASMi Archivio di stato, Milan
FAM Fondo Arnoldo Mondadori
MCP Ministero della cultura popolare
PMG I Prefettura di Milano, Gabinetto – I serie
Notes & Acknowledgements
My thanks to Patrizia Ferrara at the Archivio centrale dello stato in Rome for her
generous help and to the Fondazione Arnoldo e Alberto Mondadori in Milan for
their kind permission to publish excerpts from the documents in their archive.
1. A shorter version of this essay was presented as a paper at the conference
Translation and Power at the University of Warwick in July 1997 with the
title ‘Censorship in Fascist Italy: the Case of Translation’.
2. See Lyttleton (1987) for a manageable account of how the fascist regime
was put in place.
3. Some notable exceptions being: Piero Gobetti and Giovanni Amendola who
The Censorship of Translation in Fascist Italy84
both died as a result of health difficulties following severe beatings at the
hands of fascist squadristi; the Roselli brothers who were murdered in exile
in France; and of course, the socialist member of parliament Giacomo
Matteotti.
4. ACS, MCP, b.38, f.59. Quoted in Maurizio Cesari (1978:17). All transla-
tions from the Italian are my own. See list of abbreviations above.
5. MCP, b.38 circolare n.420/B, 26 September 1928. Also quoted in Cesari
(1978:29).
6. Both telegrams are in MCP b.38 f.59 and are quoted in Cesari (1978) on
pages 17 and 26, respectively.
7. MCP, b.105 ‘Dino Alfieri’.
8. For censorship of the cinema in these years see Nowell-Smith (1986) and
Quargnolo (1986). For censorship of the theatre see Zurlo (1952).
9. See the chapter ‘The Fascist State and the Cultural Industries’, especially
the section on cinema, in David Forgacs (1990:68-72).
10. ACS, MCP, b.143, f. ‘Atti riservati. Varie’, sf. ‘Stampa italiana’. Report
dated 15 February 1943.
11. The essay ‘La censura del Garofono rosso’ in Greco (1983:99-132) pro-
vides an interesting insight into how the local censor at the prefecture in
Florence functioned.
12. Eventually efforts were made to change this situation and lip service was
paid to the notion of placing a shelf of books in each Italian home, as we
see in Alfieri’s speech to the Senate quoted earlier: “We must resolve the
very complex and serious problem of the diffusion of books ... we must
make books into consumer goods. We must ensure that books enter equally
into the homes of professionals and workers”. What the regime was reluc-
tant to admit, however, was that this could only be achieved through the
translation of works that had mass appeal.
13. MCP, b.105 ‘Dino Alfieri’.
14. All figures compiled by the author from the Index Translationum (1939 is
a projection based on the first six months only). There is no Italian biblio-
graphical source for the 1920s and 30s which lists translations separately,
so that unfortunately it is impossible to gauge the accuracy of the figures in
the Index. The one alternative source is the annual statistics reports pub-
lished by ISTAT, the Italian Statistics Institute. On an irregular basis, and
often with very different criteria, these volumes do provide figures on the
number of translations published in Italy. Those few years which are com-
parable to the figures in the Index on the whole coincide with the figures I
have compiled – except that the ISTAT figures would imply that more
books (of all genres, not just literary) were translated from French than
from English in the years 1934-36.
15. Gherardo Casini (1938:54), quoted in Forgacs (1990:79).
16. ASMi, PMG I, b.716 ‘Rassegna Bibliografica. Elenco delle pubblicazioni’.
17. Telegram from Gherardo Casini dated 15 January 1938, a copy of which
can be found in AFM, FAM, ‘Ministero della Cultura Popolare’.
18. The word bonifica is very difficult to translate, and it is worth reflecting on
Christopher Rundle 85
its use here. It is usually used to describe the reclaiming of marshland for
agricultural purposes: making the land productive in other words. One of
the famous public works which Mussolini promoted, and which was hailed
as a great fascist achievement, was the reclaiming of the Maremma
marshlands, an area which for centuries had been ridden with malaria. Its
use in the title of this commission, then, would appear to be a conscious
attempt to insert its operations within a ‘glorious’ fascist tradition of great
public works of improvement: weeding out Jewish works of literature was
to be an achievement that would go down in the history books alongside
the transformation of hundreds of square miles of marshland into fertile
arable land.
19. All quotations from: ACS, MCP, b.56, ‘Produzione libraria italiana e
straniera: bonifica libraria’.
20. See Giorgio Fabre (1998) for a detailed account of how fascist anti-Semitic
policies were applied in publishing.
21. “We are not men of culture, we are men of ‘a culture’, ours, and we are
exclusively hers.” From a speech given by Alessandro Pavolini to the Gen-
eral Command of the Fascist Militia on the closing ceremony of the first
Course on the Problems of Race, 21 May 1942. ACS, MCP, b.103, f. ‘Dis-
corsi dell’Eccellenza Pavolini’.
22. Speech given by Pavolini at the annual inauguration of the Italo-Germanic
Association. Undated. ACS, MCP, b.103, f. ‘Discorsi ed articoli del Ministro
Pavolini’.
23. Mondadori and Vallecchi both had meetings with Casini in September 1940
at the MCP and exchanged letters afterwards which are preserved in AFM,
FAM, ‘Ministero della Cultura Popolare’ and ‘Federazione Nazionale
Fascista degli Industriali Editori’.
24. The quote is from a type-written report of the meeting in AFM, FAM,
‘Federazione Nazionale Fascista degli Industriali Editori’.
25. Letter from Valentino Bompiani to Alessandro Pavolini dated 30 Novem-
ber 1940. ACS, MCP, b.116 ‘Valentino Bompiani (Editore)’.
26. Cf. Alfieri in a speech given to the Italian parliament (undated but prob-
ably in 1936): ‘The Ministry does not hand out secret or even restricted
orders, it merely provides clarification, information, generic directives,
guidance …”. ACS, MCP, b.105 ‘Dino Alfieri’.
27. Letter from Pavolini to Bompiani 7 January 1941. ACS, MCP, b.116
‘Bompiani Valentino (Editore)’.
28. See Rundle (1999) for the way in which Arnoldo Mondadori used ‘recip-
rocal’ translations of Italian literature abroad to protect himself from the
criticism that he was somehow damaging Italy with the number of transla-
tions he was publishing.
29. Bompiani to Pavolini, 6 February 1941. ACS, MCP, b.116, ‘Bompiani
Valentino (Editore)’.
30. Pavolini to Bompiani, 30 March 1942. ACS, MCP, b.116, ‘Bompiani
Valentino (Editore)’. Pavolini also chose a quotation from the preface to
go on the book jacket: “30 years ago we succumbed to the ineffable of the
The Censorship of Translation in Fascist Italy86
Slav soul; now we were succumbing to the ineffable of the American soul.
And so a new literary bacchanal was beginning”.
31. Unsigned note to the Minister dated 26 June 1943. ACS, MCP, b.116,
‘Bompiani Valentino (Editore)’.
32. ACS, MCP, b.143, f. ‘Atti riservati. Varie’, sf. ‘Stampa italiana’. Report
dated 15 February 1943.
33. It is worth comparing this figure to the ISTAT figures given for the period
1934-39. The average proportion of translations compared to the total number
of books published in this period is 11.4%, while the figure for 1939 is
7.8%. Assuming the Ministry’s figures are correct, its efforts do not appear
to have brought about any drastic reduction in the proportion of translations
published. Cf. Annuario statistico italiano, ISTAT, Rome, years 1939-41.
34. Albonetti (1994) contains a selection of readers’ notes on books being con-
sidered for publication by the Mondadori publishing house, in which
judgements concerning how the censor was to be dealt with are often made.
See also Rundle (1999) for a detailed examination of the strategies used by
Arnoldo Mondadori in publishing so many translations and of his negotia-
tions with the Ministry.
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