A Memorial Day shame in Milan’s city council
On January 27th, Holocaust Remembrance Day, a decision by the Milan City Council left many stunned and deeply disheartened. A proposal to include the term ‘antisemitism’ in the denomination of a newly established special commission against hate speech and racial hatred was rejected by the council’s left-wing majority. This new commission was said to be inspired by the work of Senator-for-Life Liliana Segre, herself a Holocaust survivor and an indomitable voice against antisemitism. Yet, the council’s refusal to include the word that is so central to Segre’s mission is a paradox that deserves unflinching scrutiny.
The commission’s purpose is, ostensibly, noble. Hate speech and hateful ideologies are a scourge on civil society, and addressing them through systemic measures is undoubtedly necessary. But to strip the reference to antisemitism, particularly when the commission’s very existence claims to honor Segre’s work, is a baffling choice that raises uncomfortable questions about the city’s commitment to combating the specific and persistent threat of antisemitism. The decision feels like a slap in the face of historical memory, as if acknowledging the particularity of antisemitism in a world still grappling with its resurgence is somehow too much to ask.
The disgraceful decision has far-reaching implications. By choosing to omit ‘antisemitism’ from the denomination, the council sends an implicit message that may resonate beyond the walls of Palazzo Marino. Antisemitism, unlike some other forms of hatred, has a uniquely pernicious history, rooted in centuries of prejudice, persecution, and ultimately culminating in the systematic extermination of six million Jews during the Holocaust. It is not merely one form of hate among many; it has shaped European and world history in ways that demand a dedicated and unambiguous response. To lump it under a generic umbrella of ‘hate’ risks diluting its specificity and the tailored efforts required to combat it effectively.
The timing of this decision makes it all the more egregious. On Holocaust Remembrance Day, a day when the world pauses to reflect on the horrors of the Shoah and vow ‘never again,’ Milan’s council chose to sideline a term that represents the very hatred that led to those atrocities. This choice cannot be brushed off as mere bureaucratic oversight or a minor semantic disagreement. It’s a deliberate move that signals, at best, a profound misunderstanding of the weight of history and, at worst, a willingness to pander to modern relativism, where specificity is sacrificed on the altar of inclusivity.
Senator Liliana Segre has dedicated her life to educating the public about the dangers of antisemitism and the broader threats posed by hate and intolerance. Her work in the Italian Senate has been emblematic of the need to confront these issues head-on. The Segre Commission, established in 2019 in the Italian Senate, explicitly names antisemitism as one of its focal points. For Milan’s council to omit this critical term from its own initiative is not just an oversight; it’s an erasure of Segre’s core mission.
Some defenders of the council’s decision argue that broadening the scope of the commission to include all forms of hate is a more inclusive approach. On the surface, this argument has merit. Hate manifests in various ways—racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia—and all deserve robust countermeasures. However, inclusivity should not come at the expense of specificity, particularly when it concerns a form of hatred with such a distinct and catastrophic history. Combating antisemitism does not diminish efforts to fight other forms of hate; on the contrary, it strengthens them by addressing the interconnectedness of bigotry and prejudice.
The broader context in which this decision takes place is also troubling. Antisemitism is not a relic of the past. It is alive and alarmingly well in contemporary society. From desecrations of Jewish cemeteries to the proliferation of conspiracy theories online and the rise of political movements that traffic in antisemitic tropes, the evidence is overwhelming. Ignoring or minimizing this reality risks allowing it to fester further. Milan, a city with a rich Jewish history and a tragic legacy of Holocaust deportations, should be leading the fight against antisemitism, not shying away from naming it.
This decision also underscores a deeper problem within modern political discourse: the tendency to shy away from difficult truths for fear of controversy or perceived imbalance. By avoiding explicit mention of antisemitism, the council’s left-wing majority may have sought to avoid alienating segments of the electorate or provoking debate. But such an approach is not only cowardly; it is also counterproductive. Addressing hate requires courage, clarity, and an unwavering commitment to naming the problem before attempting to solve it. Diluting language in the name of consensus only serves to obscure the issues at hand, making meaningful action less likely.
The backlash against this decision has been swift and justified. Minority leader Luca Bernardo has labeled it a ‘shame’ and ‘incredible’ that such a move could occur on a day meant to honor the memory of Holocaust victims. Bernardo’s indignation is not only understandable but necessary. Silence in the face of such decisions risks normalizing them, and normalization is the first step toward complicity.
As the dust settles, one can only hope that Milan’s leaders take this opportunity to reflect on the gravity of their choice. A commission against hate is a step in the right direction, but it must be anchored in honesty and historical awareness. To truly honor Liliana Segre and the millions of victims of antisemitism, the city council must reconsider its decision and restore the term to its rightful place in the commission’s denomination. Anything less would be a betrayal of memory and a disservice to the fight against hate in all its forms.