Milan’s mayor chose darkness over decency

Milan’s mayor, Giuseppe Sala, never misses a chance to lecture the public on values. Diversity, equity, inclusion, social justice, human dignity—the usual sermon. But when it comes to putting those principles into action, especially when Jewish lives are involved, his moral clarity suddenly dims. His latest move? Refusing to illuminate City Hall to commemorate the murder of the Bibas brothers, two Israeli children slaughtered by Hamas in Gaza. A gesture so small yet so telling.

The decision, or rather the lack of one, has drawn sharp criticism. Across Italy, landmarks have been lit up to honor the young victims, yet in Milan—of all places—Sala opted for darkness. This is a city that once defied fascist oppression, the city of the Shoah Memorial at Platform 21, where Jews were packed into death trains bound for Auschwitz. And yet, its mayor sees no reason to mark the murder of Jewish children.

The Bibas brothers, Kfir and Ariel, were taken hostage by Hamas on October 7. Their mother, Shiri, clung to them as the terrorists dragged them from their home. For 504 days, the world held its breath, hoping for their survival. Instead, Hamas butchered them, leaving only grief. Even in death, the children’s fate was marked by unspeakable brutality, their small bodies desecrated to conceal the horror of their execution by hand.

Internationally, the response has been one of horror. Argentina, the country of the Bibas family’s origins, declared a national day of mourning. President Javier Milei, known for his sharp tongue and economic radicalism, found no difficulty in making a moral stand. Others, from European leaders to global Jewish communities, expressed their outrage. The Pope himself condemned the barbarity of the attack, calling for the immediate return of all hostages. Saudi Arabia’s Grand Mufti, Abdul Aziz Al-Sheikh, publicly condemned Hamas for this despicable action, describing their behavior as a “disgrace to Islam” and an act of blasphemy. But in Milan in the silence is deafening.

The contrast with the Lombardy Region could not be starker. The regional government, led by Attilio Fontana, had no hesitation in illuminating its headquarters in tribute. It understood that this was not about geopolitics but about basic decency. If Milan’s mayor had any doubts, he might have looked at the Holocaust Memorial just a few streets from his office. But perhaps that history is too inconvenient. Instead, he seems more concerned with appeasing the fashionable radicalism of his political base, the same ideological swamp that sees every Jewish tragedy as a political problem rather than a human one.

Luca Bernardo, the opposition leader in Milan’s city council, put it bluntly: “Mayor Sala’s choice is incomprehensible from a human standpoint. He represents all citizens, including the Jewish community. Leaders must rise above ideology.” Indeed, the problem is not that Sala has no principles. It is that his principles vanish the moment they require a stance that might upset the wrong people.

The broader question is what kind of city Milan wants to be. The Milan of history was a city of resistance, of defiance against oppression, of moral clarity. It was a city that stood against the darkness, both literal and metaphorical. Today, it risks becoming a place where gestures of remembrance are weighed against political expediency, where the fear of offending the perpetually outraged takes precedence over simple acts of human decency.

The refusal to illuminate City Hall is more than an administrative decision; it is a statement. And that statement is one of indifference, of moral cowardice, of an unwillingness to recognize Jewish suffering unless it can be framed in a more convenient narrative. If that is the Milan of today, it is a betrayal of the Milan of yesterday.

A light left off speaks louder than a thousand speeches. And in this case, the darkness reveals far more than Sala might have intended.