A-Infos (en) Italy, FAI, Umanita Nova #22-26 - Reversing Eurocentric Historiography: Ethiopian "Shadow Women" and the Anti-Fascist Struggle in Africa (ca, de, it, pt, tr)[machine translation]

In bourgeois newspapers, we usually only read about anti-fascism on 
April 25th, a date that for us anarchists marks only a partial victory 
in the conquest of freedom. The anarchist resistance has made 
international anti-fascism its moral compass. When it comes to 
anti-fascism, European public memory continues to tell an incomplete 
story, one too convenient for Western consciences. The dominant 
imagination places the fight against fascism almost exclusively in the 
Italian mountains, in the occupied cities of Western Europe, or on the 
front lines of World War II. Even the experiences of popular 
anti-militarism that arose in our South, such as the "Non si parte" 
revolts against forced conscription, led by Maria Occhipinti in Ragusa 
in January 1945 (when, despite being pregnant, she lay down in front of 
the wheels of a military truck that was rounding up young people), end 
up relegated to marginal footnotes in a history written by the White 
States and armies. It is a partial narrative, which tends to begin in 
1939 and end with the military defeat of the Axis powers in 1945. Yet, 
the global war against fascism began well before that, and one of its 
first, most important and tragic battlegrounds was the African continent.

In 1935, the Italian invasion of Ethiopia represented a historical 
turning point. The fascist regime (like other European powers) sought 
its empire through a brutal war of conquest, based on biological racism, 
military expansionism, and the presumed civilizational superiority of 
Europe. This aggression was not a common colonial war like those of the 
previous century. It was the concrete and modern manifestation of the 
fascist project: total domination, racial hierarchization, and the 
militarization of society.

Ethiopia occupied a huge symbolic position. Along with Liberia, it was 
one of the very few African states to have retained its independence 
during the continent's violent colonial partition. For millions of 
Africans and the black populations of the diaspora, Ethiopia was living 
proof that white domination was not inevitable. The Ethiopian 
resistance, often dismissed by European historiography, constituted one 
of the first great experiences of armed struggle against fascism. 
Precisely for this reason, Mussolini's attack had a painful and enormous 
resonance well beyond the borders of the Horn of Africa, mobilizing 
hearts and consciences throughout the world.

The invasion war was characterized by ruthless violence. The Italian 
army systematically bombed civilians and used chemical weapons, banned 
by international conventions. Mustard gas and toxic gases were 
deliberately released on villages, waterways, agricultural areas, and 
resistance groups, with devastating effects. The most reliable estimates 
speak of hundreds of thousands of Ethiopian victims during the years of 
occupation; a terrible tragedy that still occupies a marginal place in 
our history books.

Among the darkest episodes was the Yekatit 12 massacre in February 1937 
in Addis Ababa. After a failed assassination attempt against Viceroy 
Rodolfo Graziani, the colonial authorities unleashed blind vengeance: 
for three days, the civilian population was massacred, entire 
neighborhoods were devastated, and thousands were killed simply because 
they were Ethiopian. Other horrific massacres followed, such as that of 
the Zeret Cave, where hundreds of resistance fighters and civilians who 
had sought refuge there were gassed and massacred by Italian troops. 
These events demonstrate that fascist colonialism was not a 
paternalistic, authoritarian administration, but a system founded on 
terror. The consolatory myth of "Italians are good people," in short, 
belongs to nationalist nonsense, not to the reality of history.

Faced with this war machine, the Ethiopian resistance, often dismissed 
by European historiography, constituted one of the first major 
experiences of armed struggle against fascism. Peasants, local 
communities, irregular fighters, and religious leaders put up tenacious 
resistance. Despite the overwhelming disparity in resources, the 
guerrilla warfare never stopped, preventing the regime from 
consolidating control over the territory.

While European democracies were choosing the path of appeasement and the 
League of Nations was demonstrating its utter impotence in the face of 
aggression-a powerlessness reminiscent, in a mirror image, of that 
displayed today by international institutions in the face of 
contemporary massacres in Gaza, Sudan, and Myanmar-thousands of Africans 
were already dying fighting fascism. The war in Ethiopia was, in effect, 
the first chapter of the global anti-fascist resistance.

In this struggle, a fundamental and profoundly human role was played by 
Ethiopian women, too often erased. They were neither spectators nor 
figures left behind. They were active protagonists: they took up arms, 
organized logistical support networks, transported ammunition, cared for 
the wounded, ensured clandestine connections between villages and 
partisans, and wrote poems encouraging resistance. According to 
historical research, approximately a third of the officially recognized 
partisans after the liberation were women. Some assumed military command 
roles, undermining the idea of an all-male war.

This memory has been forcefully reclaimed by contemporary literature. In 
Maaza Mengiste's novel The Shadow King , the "shadow women" represent 
precisely those whom official history has sought to marginalize. Many 
protagonists of the African anti-fascist struggle have been forgotten 
not because they were absent, but because a colonial, patriarchal, and 
white historiography has chosen not to mention them. For them, 
resistance took on a double meaning: it was a struggle against the 
invader and against a system that sought to simultaneously impose 
colonial domination and gender subjugation. Their experience remains one 
of the first manifestations of an anti-fascism capable of combining 
opposition to racism, social emancipation, and self-determination.

This difference in perspective is crucial. Western states, which would 
later present themselves as the world's liberators from fascism, 
continued to govern colonial empires founded on exploitation and 
segregation. But for much of the colonized world, the struggle against 
fascism and the struggle against colonialism were precisely the same thing.

This contradiction exploded dramatically at the moment of the Allied 
victory. While Europe celebrated 1945 as the triumph of "freedom," 
millions of people in colonial territories continued to suffer violence, 
forced labor, and the denial of civil rights. The victory over Nazism 
gave the European powers a renewed moral authority, allowing France, 
Great Britain, Belgium, and other victorious powers (e.g., the United 
States) to present themselves as the "good guys," defenders of freedom 
and civilization while continuing to govern vast empires built on a 
brutal colonial domination.

A case in point occurred on December 1, 1944, in the military camp of 
Thiaroye, Senegal. The Senegalese tirailleurs, African soldiers who had 
fought in Europe to liberate France from Nazism, demanded the promised 
compensation. The French army's response was military violence: the 
veterans were shot in cold blood, leaving hundreds dead (perhaps 400) on 
the battlefield. Men who had defeated fascism were treated as subjects 
when they demanded dignity, simply their pay, not colored medals, not 
institutional recognition.

A few months later, on May 8, 1945, while European cities celebrated the 
end of the war, peaceful demonstrations demanding autonomy in the 
Algerian cities of Sétif, Guelma, and Kherrata (also fueled by the 
feeling of "liberation" in Europe) were bloodily repressed by French 
authorities with unprecedented brutality, resulting in thousands of 
deaths. The day of European liberation coincided with one of the 
bloodiest colonial massacres in African history. It should give us 
pause, right?

The end of the war in Europe, therefore, did not mark the end of 
structures of domination. The subsequent wars of national liberation, 
from Algeria to Kenya, from Mozambique to Angola, were a continuation of 
that same struggle against systems that shared with fascism 
institutional racism, military violence, and the cult of authority. The 
interesting point is that it was not simply a matter of demanding state 
independence; in many cases, radical social aspirations also emerged, 
along with forms of community self-organization and collective practices 
that challenged not only colonialism but every form of authoritarian power.

From a libertarian perspective, this story highlights that anti-fascism 
cannot be reduced to the defense of one state against another. If 
fascism is the extreme expression of hierarchy, nationalism, and 
militarization, then anti-fascism must necessarily reject colonialism 
and racism globally.

Today, as nostalgic Vannah soldiers resurface in our societies and 
authoritarian rhetoric cyclically resurfaces from the sewers of history, 
the African continent too is confronted with new forms of 
authoritarianism, extractivism, and militarized borders separating the 
global North and South. But popular mobilizations, youth movements for 
social justice, and feminist struggles in Africa demonstrate that this 
tradition of resistance has not disappeared. Where is our international 
solidarity with them? Is it really possible that it has all been shipped 
onto the flotillas and nothing remains?

Remembering African anti-fascism means breaking with a Eurocentric 
narrative and speaking about a global anti-fascist struggle that has 
never ended. Freedom is not commemorated in state rituals; it is a daily 
practice of opposition to all forms of domination. From the Ethiopian 
mountains of 1935 to the streets of today, the global anti-fascist war 
and the resistance against militarism, colonialism, and exploitation 
must continue under the banner of international solidarity.

Gabriele Cammarata

https://umanitanova.org/ribaltare-la-storiografia-eurocentrica-le-donne-ombra-etiopi-e-la-lotta-antifascista-in-africa/
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