Italy’s areas of wartime fascist resistance remain less susceptible to the far-right today

A cross Europe, far-right parties are making unforeseen breakthroughs – from local councils to national and supranational parliaments. As their presence becomes normalised, these parties promote nationalist rhetoric, challenge democratic institutions, and attempt to reshape a political present rooted in hard-won struggles against authoritarianism.

Yet, not all communities are equally permeable to these growing forces. Some actively resist, mobilising to block authoritarian ideologies and defend democratic values.

Our recent research in Italy offers one explanation as to why some communities are less easily enticed into far-right politics than others. Local histories of wartime resistance continue to shape political cultures in ways that, even generations later, inspire people to push back against the resurgence of fascist and neo-fascist ideologies.

In areas where anti-fascist resistance movements were active during the Second World War, civic engagement to defend democratic values is stronger. In these communities, support for far-right parties is weaker.

These legacies aren’t accidental. They are cultivated, reinforced, and passed on through intensive and continuous local memory work.

During Italy’s civil war (1943–1945), students, workers, farmers and clergy mobilised into bands of resistance to fight the Nazi-fascist regime. Their efforts were central to Italy’s liberation and the establishment of its democratic republic. While this story is often told at the national level, our research examines its enduring local consequences.

Using an original dataset mapping resistance activity across about 8,000 Italian municipalities, we compared places with strong partisan mobilisation to those without. Even today, eight decades later, residents of areas with a resistance past are more likely to support initiatives that counter far-right ideologies.

This was especially evident in the response to a recent initiative. In 2020 and 2021, a grassroots campaign proposed a law to ban the public glorification of fascism. To bring it for discussion before parliament, the campaign needed 50,000 signatures.

Despite the pandemic, it collected over 240,000 within a few months. While support was widespread, municipalities with strong resistance histories were significantly more likely to participate. Our estimates show roughly 40% more signatures in these places.

These patterns suggest that wartime resistance can leave legacies that translate into contemporary political behaviour. But data alone can’t explain how these legacies endure. That’s where our fieldwork comes in.

We have been closely studying towns with deep resistance roots and strong support for the 2021 initiative to see how they keep these legacies alive and who is involved.

We have followed (and participated in) memorialisation efforts in the Cuneo region, one of the main centres of wartime resistance, and in areas deeply affected by Nazi violence and known for creating some of the strongest partisan brigades. These include villages around Stazzema in Tuscany and Marzabotto in Emilia.

The main insight is that remembrance isn’t just ceremonial – it’s part of daily life. Schools, hiking clubs, cultural associations, and city halls all contribute to preserving and activating the memory of resistance.

One public elementary school in the rural hills around Bologna, for example, created a “memory garden” to honour local residents who died fighting fascism. Through interviews, art and storytelling, students have engaged directly with their community’s past, creating not only a commemorative space but a living bridge between generations.

— The memorial garden planted by students in.

Similarly, local Alpine clubs in Emilia Romagna and Piedmont restored partisan trails through the mountains, now used for memory treks. These hikes attract people who might not otherwise engage politically but who, by walking the paths of wartime partisans, connect with stories of sacrifice and solidarity. What begins as recreation becomes an encounter with democratic values.

These deeply localised memory efforts – anchored in the names, stories and spaces of the community – often intensify during democratic threats. The 2021 campaign emerged amid growing support for parties like Lega and Fratelli d’Italia (Brothers of Italy).

Related studies show that when exclusionary welfare policies gain ground, local communities sometime organise in defence of vulnerable groups. In towns with a resistance past, local “memory entrepreneurs” doubled their efforts in response to far-right victories.

Memory as a political battle

This is not just an Italian phenomenon. Across Europe, historical memory is a political battleground. In Germany, the Stolpersteine – brass plaques in sidewalks commemorating Nazi victims – serve as grassroots reminders that shape civic attitudes. In Hungary, activists have created “living memorials” to Holocaust victims, directly contesting government efforts to whitewash fascist collaboration.

These commemorations also have measurable political effects. In Berlin, neighbourhoods where one or more Stolpersteine was placed before an election saw fewer votes for the far-right AfD (a 0.96%-point decrease) compared to those with no Stolpersteine. This happened across federal, state and EU elections between 2013 and 2021.

— A stolperstein in Berlin.

What unites these efforts is a belief that remembering the past matters – not only to honour it, but to shape the future. Local narratives of wartime resistance and victimisation help instil democratic values and inoculate communities against authoritarianism.

But this doesn’t happen automatically. It requires effort. Teachers, students, parents, associations, and local councils all play a role in keeping memory alive and politically meaningful.

— A local cycling club marks liberation day with a tour of monuments dedicated to partisans.

Recognising this is especially vital today, when the meaning of anti-fascism itself is a polarising subject. Far-right leaders, including those in office, downplay and discredit the resistance’s legacy, replacing it with revisionist myths.

When communities take ownership of their histories, they are more likely to uphold democratic principles not only in ceremonies, but at the ballot box and in everyday actions. The past is never just the past. The legacies of wartime resistance continue to shape how people view democracy, justice, and belonging. In times like these, remembering the resistance is more than homage – it is civic defence.

Sources:

▪ This piece was originally published in The Conversation and re-published in Europeans TODAY on 7 May 2025. | The author writes in a personal capacity.

▪ Cover: Dreamstime/Enrico Della Pietra.