On April 25 in Milan, the annual march marking Italy’s liberation from Nazi-fascism unfolded along familiar lines: partisan songs, flags, and a civic ritual rooted in the memory of resistance.
By midday, that sense of unity had fractured. As the Jewish Brigade contingent entered the procession—joined by Jewish groups and pro-dialogue movements—it was met with escalating hostility from other demonstrators. Insults were shouted, chants intensified, and tensions moved from verbal confrontation toward physical threat.
Among the reported phrases were “assassins,” “genocidal pigs,” and “you should have been soap,” a phrase invoking Holocaust imagery. Police intervened, and the Jewish Brigade was eventually escorted out of the march.
The Milan confrontation quickly became a national argument over who belongs inside Italy’s Liberation Day memory, whether Israeli and Jewish symbols are being judged by a different standard, and where criticism of Israel ends and hostility toward Jews begins.
Days later, that debate widened with a separate incident in Rome. Italian police arrested a 21- year-old man identified in Italian reports as Eitan Bondì in connection with the shooting of two members of the National Association for Italian Partisans, known as ANPI, near Parco Schuster during Liberation Day events in the capital.
Italian media reported that Bondì, described as a member of Rome’s Jewish community, allegedly admitted firing an air or pellet gun, while prosecutors placed him under investigation on suspicion of attempted murder and weapons offenses.
The two victims, identified in Italian reporting as Rossana Gabrieli and Nicola Fasciano, were struck in the neck, face, and shoulder, sustaining injuries that were not life-threatening. Investigators identified the suspect through surveillance footage and the license plate of a white scooter allegedly used in the attack.
The events in Milan and Rome suggest that this space is no longer neutral.
Italian reports said police searched Bondì’s home and found knives, ammunition, soft-air weapons, and Israeli flags, though the weapon allegedly used in the shooting had not yet been found.
Jewish institutions responded quickly, condemning the violence while warning against efforts to turn one suspect’s alleged actions into an indictment of the wider Jewish community.
Victor Fadlun, president of the Jewish community of Rome, said the arrest filled the community with “dismay and indignation” and stressed that it “condemns and distances itself without reservation from any form of antidemocratic violence.”
He also called on political actors and civil society to avoid any exploitation of the incident that could fuel hatred and generate further violence.
The Jewish Brigade also denied any connection to Bondì, saying it did not know him and had no member by that name, while warning that using the Brigade’s name to associate it with the attack would insult the memory of those who fought under its banner.
The Union of Italian Jewish Communities and the Milan Jewish community also distanced themselves from the incident and condemned violence from any side.
For some Jewish community members, the scale and tone of the attention surrounding Bondì became part of the broader concern: that one alleged criminal act, already condemned by Jewish institutions, was being used to redirect focus from the hostility faced by Jewish participants at Liberation Day events and to recast a discussion about antisemitism as a debate over Jewish culpability.
That concern sharpened after ANPI called for investigations into what it described as extremist or intimidating behavior by some Jewish activists, including references to alleged “Jewish paramilitary groups.”
For many observers, the sequence marked a rupture: A group historically tied to the liberation of Italy was forced out of the public space commemorating that liberation. The Jewish Brigade was formed in 1944 within the British Army and was composed of Jewish volunteers from Mandatory Palestine.
Deployed in Italy in the final phase of World War II, it fought alongside Allied and partisan forces in the liberation of the country. Its members are buried in Italian military cemeteries, and its role has long been part of Liberation Day commemorations. The events in Milan exposed a contradiction that many find difficult to reconcile.
For Carlo Riva, president of the Italian Federation for Progressive Judaism, the episode reflects a deeper shift in the nature of public hostility. “What happened on April 25 is not just another episode of tension. It marks a turning point. What we are witnessing is a shift from political criticism of Israel to something broader—a generalized aversion toward anything perceived as Jewish.
That is a different phenomenon, and a much more concerning one,” he told The Media Line.
Riva emphasized that this transformation is not limited to identifiable groups. “What struck us most was not only the hostility itself, but who was expressing it.
“This is no longer confined to radical fringes or organized groups. It has extended into wider segments of society—people who would normally be perceived as moderate,” he noted.
The symbolic weight of the expulsion, he argued, lies in its historical contradiction. “We are talking about a march that commemorates the liberation of Italy from Nazi fascism. The Jewish Brigade fought in that liberation. To see Jews effectively pushed out of that space is something that is both symbolically and historically contradictory,” he said.
For Riva, the rupture is also personal: His father was a partisan who fought in the Resistance.
Pointing to a broader inconsistency in public discourse, Riva said that during the same period, many of the same actors had forcefully opposed measures they viewed as limiting the right to protest, while here, a group had effectively been denied the right to be present.
In the immediate aftermath of the Milan events, the confrontation moved quickly from the street into the institutional arena, exposing a widening rift between organizers and the Jewish community.
Walker Meghnagi, president of the Milan Jewish community, issued direct accusations against ANPI, holding it responsible for the climate that allowed the escalation.
Meghnagi described the episode as “a very bad day” and accused the organizers of enabling a context in which antisemitic hostility could emerge. The criticism followed what was widely reported as a prolonged standoff, during which the Jewish Brigade was prevented from marching for more than two hours before being removed for security reasons.
ANPI rejected accusations of antisemitism and instead attributed the breakdown to tensions linked to the conduct of some Jewish Brigade participants, as well as certain symbols they displayed during the march. Its leadership maintained that the episode should be understood within the broader context of a highly polarized environment shaped by the war in Gaza, while reaffirming its historical commitment to antifascist values and inclusivity.
At the same time, remarks from Milan Mayor Giuseppe Sala suggested that tensions had been anticipated but that the presence of Israeli flags had not been expected, indicating that their display may have contributed to the escalation—an interpretation contested by participants, who pointed to the regular presence of other political symbols, including Palestinian flags.
The divergence between these positions reflects a broader divide: Whether what occurred should be understood as a breakdown in public order within a politicized demonstration or as evidence of a deeper shift in the boundaries of acceptable expression toward Jewish identity in public space.
For Riva, the issue is not the flags themselves, but the principle behind their selective acceptance. “If the argument is that certain symbols introduce tension, then that standard must apply equally. Otherwise, it becomes a selective application of principles,” he said, adding that even Jewish groups that were not carrying Israeli flags were targeted.
“That makes it difficult to argue that the issue was only about specific symbols. It suggests that what was being rejected was not a position, but an entire presence.”
The Milan episode is part of a broader trajectory that began after October 7. Data from the Center of Contemporary Jewish Documentation’s Observatory on Antisemitism show a sharp rise in antisemitic incidents across Italy in 2024, including vandalism, harassment, and physical aggression. In Milan, weekly cases increased from roughly 30 before October 7 to peaks of 80 to 90.
For the Union of Italian Jewish Communities, the shift is structural. A senior representative, Alex Zarfati, adviser to the Jewish community of Rome, described a rapid transformation. “From October 7 onwards, we witnessed a very rapid closure of the spaces of Jewish life in Italy. Activities that were once normal—open, shared with civil society have become increasingly difficult,” he told The Media Line.
“Living a full Jewish life today is no longer possible in the same way as it was even a few years ago,” he said, adding that the concern is not only about a few isolated incidents, but rather about a broader change in the environment.
“There are events that are no longer organized, invitations that do not arrive, and collaborations that become more difficult. What has changed is not only the level of hostility, but the level of normal interaction,” he elaborated.
According to Zarfati, this is not necessarily a new issue. “We have faced reputational crises before, related to crises in the Middle East, but never something of this magnitude. There are strong indications that this is not temporary, but something that has settled into public perception,” he said.
Zarfati also raised concerns about generational change, saying there was a large gap between an older ruling class shaped by awareness of Jewish history and European responsibility, and younger people exposed almost exclusively to a single narrative, a difference he said inevitably affected perception.
Pointing to the role of the media environment, he argued that what is happening is also the product of constant exposure to a particular narrative. “If someone is not deeply informed and relies only on what they see online, they are exposed to hundreds of similar messages and almost no alternative perspectives.
“At that point, it becomes very difficult to distinguish between information and propaganda.”
Jewish institutions remain under constant protection; without it, the level of vulnerability would be much higher, Zarfati said.
Yet, in his view, this protection does not address deeper concerns. “We saw over the last few years symbols linked to organizations such as Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran … something that had not appeared at this scale before. Along with this also episodes in Rome where people ripped off Israeli flags in the Jewish ghetto and tested the security of the area,” he said.
“Italy has already experienced phases in which internal extremism is connected with international dynamics.
The point is not to say that history repeats itself, but to ensure that early signals are correctly interpreted and monitored before they evolve into something more concrete,” he added.
The current climate is causing some people to change their behavior in public.
“In several cases, Israelis have chosen not to identify themselves openly—whether in hotels, public spaces, or even
in casual interactions—after experiencing hostility or fearing negative reactions,” Zarfati said, noting that these are not isolated cases but instead reflect an adaptation to an environment that is perceived as increasingly uncomfortable.
In Bologna, the issue takes a different form, as Carmen Dal Monte, president of the Jewish Reform Community of Bologna, told The Media Line: “What we are seeing is a form of antisemitism expressed through institutional behavior—through choices, silences, and symbols. It is less explicit, but precisely for that reason more pervasive,” she said.
Dal Monte also pointed to the role of narrative. “The way events are framed, what is said and what is omitted, especially on symbolic dates, becomes a political act,” she noted. She observed that Jewish contributions to the Italian Resistance are often underrepresented or absent from public narratives. “This absence is not neutral—it shapes how Jewish presence is perceived today,” she asserted.
Within this context, an alternative public initiative emerged. Dal Monte explained that, since in Bologna, the Jewish Brigade was not invited by ANPI to the April 25 march, but only to the April 21 march marking the liberation of the city, she decided to promote another civic demonstration on April 23, bringing together Israeli flags alongside Iranian anti-regime, Ukrainian, and Venezuelan flags.
“The question was whether we are still capable of recognizing resistance when it is expressed by others, under different flags. Different communities share the same necessity—to resist to exist,” she said.
“If resistance is recognized only when it aligns with a specific political framework, then it ceases to be a universal principle and becomes a selective category. Today it is up to us to stand by that history and by those who continue to fight for their own freedom.”
April 25 has long functioned as a shared civic reference point—a space where different strands of resistance converge.
The events in Milan and Rome suggest that this space is no longer neutral.
The contradiction is not only historical but structural: A commemoration built on resistance is now struggling to accommodate one of the groups that participated in it, while a separate violent incident in Rome has sharpened suspicions and hardened opposing narratives.
Taken together, the rise in antisemitic incidents, the normalization of certain rhetoric, the role of institutional signaling, the influence of the media environment, and the fallout from the Rome shooting point to a broader transformation.
What emerges is not a series of isolated developments, but a redefinition of the space in which Jewish identity is perceived and expressed in Italy.
It is increasingly evident that the line separating political expression from social exclusion is becoming unstable—and that once that line shifts, the civic space it defines becomes more difficult to reconstruct.
