by Oriana Fallaci (one of Italy's best known journalists)
March 12, 2002
I find it shameful  that  in  Italy there  should  be  a  procession  of  individuals dressed as suicide bombers who spew  vile abuse at Israel, hold up photographs of Israeli  leaders on whose foreheads they have drawn  the swazitka, incite people to hate the Jews. And  who,  in  order  to  see  Jews once  again  in the extermination  camps,  in  the  gas chambers, in  the  ovens of  Dachau  and Mauthausen and Buchenwald and Bergen-Belsen et cetera, would sell their own mother to a harem.

I find it shameful  that  the Catholic Church  should  permit  a  bishop,  one  with  lodgings in  the Vatican  no less, a saintly man who was found in Jerusalem with an arsenal of arms and explosives hidden in the secret compartments of his sacred Mercedes, to participate  in that  procession and  plant  himself in front of a microphone to thank in the name of G-d  the suicide  bombers  who massacre the Jews in pizzerias and supermarkets.  To call them "martyrs who go to their deaths as to a party".

I find it shameful  that  in  France,  the  France  of Liberty-Equality-Fraternity,  they  burn synagogues, terrorize  Jews, profane their cemeteries. I find  it shameful that the  youth of  Holland  and Germany and Denmark  flaunt the  Kaffiah  just as, Mussolini's avant  garde  used  to flaunt  the club and  the  fascist  badge.  I  find  it  shameful  that  in  nearly all  the universities of  Europe Palestinian  students  sponsor  and  nurture  anti-semitism.  That  in  Sweden  they  asked  that   the  Nobel  Peace Prize given  to Shimon  Peres  in  1994  be  taken  back  and  conferred  on  the  dove  with  the  olive  branch  in  his  mouth,  that is  on Arafat. I find it shameful that the distinguished members of the Committee,  a Committee  that  (it would appear)  rewards political color rather than merit, should take this request into consideration and even respond to it. In hell the Nobel Prize honors he who does not receive it.

I find it shameful  (we're back in Italy) that  state-run television stations contribute to the  resurgent  anti-semitism, crying only over Palestinian  deaths  while  playing  down  Israeli  deaths, glossing over them  in  unwilling tones.  I find  it shameful  that  in their debates they host with much deference the  scoundrels with  turban or kaffiah who  yesterday sang  hymns to the slaughter at New York  and  today  sing  hymns  to  the  slaughters at Jerusalem,  at Haifa,  at  Netanya,  at Tel Aviv. I find it shameful that the press does the same, that it is indignant because  Israeli  tanks surround the  church of the  Nativity in Bethlehem, that it is  not indignant because inside  that same  church  two  hundred  Palestinian  terrorists  well  armed  with  machine  guns  and munitions and explosives (among  them are various leaders of Hamas and Al-Aqsa) are not welcome guests of the monks (who then accept bottles of  mineral water and  jars of honey  from  the  soldiers  of  those  tanks).  I find it  shameful  that,  in giving the number of Israelis killed since the beginning of the Second intifada  (four hundred twelve),  a  noted daily  newspaper found   it appropriate to underline in capital letters that more people are killed in their traffic accidents.  (Six hundred a year).

I find it shameful  that  The Roman  Observer,  the  newspaper  of  the  Pope - a  Pope who not  long  ago  left  in the Wailing Wall  a  letter  of  apology  for   the Jews  -- accuses  of  extermination  of   people  who  were  exterminated  in  the millions  by Christians. By Europeans. I find it shameful that  this  newspaper denies  to  the survivors  of  that  people  (survivors  who still have  numbers  tattooed   on  their   arms) the right  to  react,  to  defend themselves,  to  not  be  exterminated  again.  I  find  it shameful that in the  name  of Jesus Christ (a  Jew  without  whom they would  all  be  unemployed), the  priests of our parishes or Social Centers or whatever  they  are  flirt with  the  assassins of those  in  Jerusalem who cannot go to eat a pizza or buy some eggs without being blown up. I find it shameful that they are on  the side of  the  very ones  who  inaugurated  terrorism, killing us on  airplanes, in  airports, at the Olympics, and who today entertain themselves by killing western journalists. By shooting them, abducting  them, cutting  their throats, decapitating  them. (There's  someone  in  Italy  who,  since the  appearance of Anger and Pride, would  like  to do the same to  me. Citing  verses  of  the Koran he  exhorts  his  "brothers"  in the mosques and the Islamic Community to chastise me in the  name  of  Allah.  To kill me. Or rather to die with me. Since  he's someone who  speaks  English well,  I'll  respond to him in English: "F--K you!")

I find it shameful that  atmost all of  the left, the  left  that  twenty  years ago permitted one of its union processionals to deposit a coffin  (as a mafioso warning) in front of the  synagogue of  Rome,  forgets  the  contribution  made  by  the  Jews  to the  fight against fascism.   Made  by Carlo  and Nello Rossini, for  example,  by  Leone Ginzburg, by Umberto Terracini, by Leo Valiani, by Emilio Sereni, by women like my friend Anna Maria Enriques Agnoletti who was shot at  Florence on June 12, 1944,  by  seventy-five of the three-hundred-thirty-five people killed at the Fossee Ardeatine, by the  infinite others killed  under torture or in combat or before firing squads.  (The companions, the teachers, of my  infancy and my youth.)  I find it shameful  that  in  part through the fault of the left -- or rather; primarily through the fault of the  left  (think of the left  that inaugurates its congresses applauding the  representative  of  the  PLO  leader   in  Italy of  the  Palestinians  who  want  the  destruction  of  Israel)  -- Jews  in  Italian cities  are  once  again   afraid.  And  in  French cities  and  Dutch  cities  and  Danish cities  and  German  cities, it  is  the   same. I  find  it shameful that Jews  tremble  at  the  passage  of the scoundrels dressed like the  suicide bombers just as they trembled during  Kristallnacht, the night in which Hitler gave free reign to the Hunt of the Jews.

I find it shameful that  in  obedience  to  the  stupid, vile, dishonest,  and for them  extremely  advantageous fashion of Political Correctness the usual opportunists -- or better than usual parasites -- exploit the word  Peace. That in the name of the word Peace, by now more debauched than words Love and Humanity, they absolve one side alone of its hate and bestiality. That in the name of a pacifism (read conformism) delegated to the singing crickets and buffoons who used to lick Pol Pot's feet they incite people who are  confused or  ingenuous or  intimidated.  Trick  them,  corrupt them, carry them back a  half  century to the time of the yellow star on the coat.  These charlatans who care about the Palestinians as much as I care about the charlatans.  That is not at all.

I find it shameful  that  many  Italians  and  many  Europeans  have  chosen  as  their  standard-bearer  the  gentleman  (or so it is polite to say) Arafat. This nonentity who thanks to the money of the Saudi Royal Family plays the Mussolini and perpetuum and in his  megalomania  believes he will pass into  history as the  George  Washington  of  Palestine.  This ungrammatical wretch who when I interviewed him was unable even to put together a complete sentence, to make articulate conversation.  So that to put it all together, write it,  publish it,  cost me a tremendous  effort and  I concluded  that  compared  to him  even  Ghaddafi  sounds  like Leonardo da Vinci.  This  false warrior  who always goes around in  uniform like  Pinochet,  never putting on civilian garb, and yet despite this has never participated in a battle.  War is something  he sends, has always sent, others to do for him.  That is, the poor souls who believe  in  him. This  pompous  incompetent who  playing the  part of  Head of  State caused  the  ailure  of  the  Camp David negotiations, Clinton's  mediation. 'No-no-I-want-Jerusalem-all-to-myself'. This eternal  liar who has a flash of sincerity only when (in  private) he  denies  Israel's  right  to  exist,  and who as I say in my  book  contradicts  himself every five minutes. He  always plays the double-cross, lies even  if  you  ask him what time it is, so that you can  never  trust  him.  Never!  With him you will always  wind up  systematically  betrayed.  This  eternal  terrorist  who  knows  only  how  to  be  a  terrorist  (while  keeping himself  safe) and who during the Seventies, that is when I interviewed him, even trained  the  terrorists of  Baader-Meinhof.  With them, children ten years of age. Poor children. (Now he trains them to become suicide  bombers.  A hundred baby suicide  bombers are in the works:  a hundred!) This  weathercock  who  keeps  his  wife  at  Paris,  served and revered like a queen, and keeps his people down in  the   s--t.  He  takes them out of the  s--t  only to send them to die,  like the eighteen year old girls who in order to earn equality with men  have  to   strap  on explosives  and  disintegrate   with  their  victims.  And  yet  many   Italians  love  him, yes.  Just like they  loved   Mussolini.  And   many  other   Europeans   do  the  same.  I  find  it  shameful   and  see  in  all  this the  rise  of  a  new  fascism,  a  new  nazism.  A  fascism,   a  nazism,  that   is  much  more   grim  and  revolting   because  it is conducted  and  nourished  by  those who  hypocritically  pose  as  do- gooders,  progressives,  communists,  pacifists,  Catholics or rather Christians, and who have the gall to label a warmonger anyone like me who screams the truth.

I  see  it,   yes,  and  I   say  the  following,  I   have  never  been  tender  with  the  tragic  and    Shakespearean   figure   Sharon. ("I  know   you've  come  to  add  another  scalp  to  your  necklace,"  he  murmurmed   at  most  with  sadness  when  I went  to interview him  in 1982.)  I have often  had  disagreements  with  the  Israelis,  ugly  ones,  and  in  the   past I  have  defended  the Palestinians a  great deal.  Maybe   more  than  they deserved. 
But  I   stand  with   Israel.  I  stand  with  the  Jews. I  stand  just as I stood as  a young  girl  during  the  time  when  I  fought  with  them,  and  when  the  Anna Marias  were  shot.  I  defend their  right  to  exist, to  defend  themselves,  to  not  let  themselves   be  exterminated  a  second  time.  And  I'm  disgusted by the anti-semitism of many  Italians, of  many  Europeans,  I  am  ashamed  of  this  shame  that  dishonors  my  Country  and Europe. At   best, it  is  not  a  community  of  States,  but  a  pit  of  Pontius  Pilates.  And  even  if   all   the  inhabitants   of this  planet  were  to  think  otherwise, I  would  continue  to  think   so."
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