Canada’s terrible euthanasia warning for Ireland

 

Today is the deadline for submissions to the Oireachtas Justice Committee concerning Gino Kenny’s ‘Dying with Dignity Bill’. What is happening in other countries that have gone this path becomes more relevant than ever. Euthanasia and assisted suicide were legalised in Canada in 2016 and, since then, the number of patients killed in hospitals and hospices has constantly increased. Like the examples of Belgium and Netherlands, it serves as a warning to us.

There have been more than 21,000 cases of assisted suicide and euthanasia in Canada since 2016 with constant, year-on-year increases to date.

Here are the figures from Ontario, which represents 39pc of the Canada population: 189 (2016); 841 (2017); 1,499 (2018); 1,789 (2019); 2,378 (2020). Last year alone represents 33pc increase compared to 2019.  It keeps growing and what is initially an exception becomes a social norm.

Canadian pro-life activists such as Alex Schadenberg of the Euthanasia Prevention Coalition have said: “The numbers keep going up, and they will continue going up unless more people speak out about this and demand our politicians step back and reconsider what we are doing as a country”.

After only four years from its introduction, the law is already becoming more permissive and many safeguards are going to be removed soon. In December, the House of Commons in Canada passed a new Bill that will extend euthanasia to non-terminally ill patients. It will also permit a doctor or a nurse to inject patients incapable of consenting, if they were previously approved for euthanasia. It will remove the 10-day period, when death is deemed to be reasonably foreseeable. The Bill will be debated in the Canadian Senate in February and is likely to pass.

The Canadian case confirms that after euthanasia laws are introduced, safeguards are relaxed with time and criteria for eligibility become elastic.

The Gino Kenny Bill is aimed at those ‘likely to die’ from a terminal illness, but we see how quickly this can change once doctors are permitted to kill patients. The logic of ‘choice’ and avoiding ‘unbearable pain and suffering’ becomes inescapable.

The logic progresses not simply through changes in the law, like in Canada at the moment, but also with more permissive interpretation of the law by courts, review committees and professional bodies.

The consequences of introducing assisted suicide inevitably go beyond initial predictions.

For instance, the new law instituted in 2019 in the state of Victoria, in Australia, was presented as ‘moderate’ in comparison with similar legislations in the world. Yet, in the first year there were ten times the number of deaths expected. The initial estimate of 12 people became in reality 124 cases in one year and another 107 more death permits were issued. No one will be surprised if the numbers for 2020 show a further increase.

Victoria was the first Australian state to introduce euthanasia but, sadly, not the only one. The state of Western Australia followed, with a new law that will be in effect this year, and now the state of Tasmania is considering voluntary assisted dying while the Queensland government has announced a similar law to be introduced in May 2021. In New South Wales, an independent Bill is expected to be tabled in Parliament by mid-2021.

The Victoria euthanasia law seems to be having a domino effect on the rest of Australia. Neighbouring that New Zealand is following suit after a referendum last year.

If Ireland goes down this road, we will still be one of the first in Europe to do so.

The Gino Kenny Bill is presented as ‘moderate’. It’s not, because assisted suicide is an extreme act by definition that preys on the most vulnerable, which is why almost all palliative care doctors are against it.

But the Kenny Bill will only be the start. The grounds for assisted suicide, and its victims, will only widen from there.

How the 8th amendment saved hundreds of babies with Down Syndrome

 Thanks to prenatal screening, far fewer babies with Down Syndrome are being born than was once the case. A recent study shows that across Europe as a whole, the reduction is in the order of half, but in Ireland prior to the introduction of abortion two years ago, it was ‘only’ 8pc, whereas in Spain it is above 80pc. This may become even worse with non-invasive prenatal testing becoming more widely available.

The study was published in the European Journal of Human Genetics.

The researchers, led by Dr Brian G Skotko from the Department of Pediatrics of Harvard Medical School, studied the period 2011-15 and discovered that 10.1 out of 10,000 live births in Europe involved children with Down Syndrome. They estimated that, in the same period, on average 54pc of babies found to have DS were aborted. Without these abortions, the prevalence would have been 21.7 per 10,000 live births.

 

As mentioned, this varies greatly country by country. It is very low here so far, but very high in countries like Spain, Portugal, Italy and Denmark. The fact that it is so high in the first three, shows how a eugenic mentality has overridden the Catholic culture of those societies.

Ireland had the highest prevalence of live Down Syndrome births in Europe: 27.8 per 10,000 against the European average of 10 per 10,000.

The population of Down Syndrome in Europe is estimated by this study at 5.6 per 10,000 inhabitants. In Ireland it is 13.9 per 10,000 inhabitants, the highest rate in Europe. What made Ireland different? Its pro-life culture and the 8^th amendment.

The study estimated that without selective abortions, which are a form of eugenics, the number of people of all ages with DS would be 27pc higher in Europe that it is. This would be much worse than it is were it not for the fact that many people with Down Syndrome were born before prenatal testing become widespread.

It would also be worse were it not for the fact that people with Down Syndrome, once born, live much longer than they used to because of medical improvements.

It is a paradox that when people with DS can live longer more fulfilling lives, they are also killed before birth as never before.

Things are likely to become even worse as noninvasive pre-natal screening is made available to more and more couples. These tests can detect conditions like Down Syndrome at earlier and earlier stages of pregnancy.

Under Irish law you cannot have an abortion specifically because a baby has a serious (but non-lethal) chromosomal or genetic abnormality. If you want an abortion for that reason, you must still travel to Britain, and in 2019 27 Irish women did so. Nonetheless, you can have an abortion here for any reason up to 12 weeks. If DS can be detected before 12 weeks, it will almost certainly lead to a big reduction in the number of children being born here with DS.

The study itself acknowledges that “reduction [abortion] rates are very low in Malta and Ireland where terminations are highly restricted”. (It refers to the years 2011-2015, before we changed our abortion law). The 8^th amendment has without doubt saved thousands of lives, including the lives of hundreds of babies with chromosomal or genetic abnormalities.

Before the 2018 abortion referendum, the pro-life side warned that with the repeal of the 8^th amendment more Irish babies with Down Syndrome would be aborted.

The experience of other countries shows this is absolutely true.

A pro-life take on the Covid-19 vaccines

 

Mother and Baby Homes report highlights how eugenics targeted unmarried mothers

Among the many other things it examines, the report on the Mother and Baby Homes published last week looks at how other countries in the past treated unmarried mothers. It throws a spotlight on how various countries in the first part of the last century promoted eugenics, which frequently targeted unmarried mothers, labelling them ‘feeble-minded’, often incarcerating them, or even sterilising them. This was done in the name of ‘science, not religion’.

This is an issue The Iona Institute has previously highlighted. The report presents examples of countries that introduced policies and legislation inspired by eugenic ideology, which seeks to ensure only the ‘fit’ are born.

It says: “In the early-twentieth century a number of countries legalised the non-consensual sterilisation of women who were believed to be ‘feeble-minded’ or behaved immorally, including unmarried mothers.”

The countries it lists include the US, Canada, Switzerland, Denmark and Sweden.

It points out that in the US as late as 1968, a “total of 27 US states had compulsory sterilisation laws.”

It quotes a study which says: “The more recent application of eugenic legislation [in the US] was punitive or economically motivated as in the case of women with illegitimate children supported by welfare payments”.

About Switzerland, Denmark, and Scandinavia in general, it states: “In the aftermath of World War I, in order to protect society against ‘a visible dissolution of sexual morals among women’, the Danish authorities opened an institution on an island, close to Copenhagen, where ‘slightly imbecile, erotic girls’ were confined and sterilised. It was widely believed throughout Scandinavia that ‘the “degenerate” were more promiscuous, had more children and threatened social order’. In Switzerland, where compulsory sterilisations were carried out on the basis of agreements between local authorities and doctors, most sterilisations were carried out on ‘unmarried, socially deprived women with children born out of wedlock who were categorised as “maladjusted”, ‘sexually promiscuous’, ‘mentally disabled’ or ‘feebleminded’”.

In the UK, in 1913 the Mental Deficiency Act created the category or “feeble-minded person” that was used to incarcerate or put in institutions women who had children outside of marriage and could become pregnant again. (See more here)

After World War 2 in Britain, out-of-wedlock births were taken as “a prime example of something which interrupted the proper functioning of social processes, and revealed a failure of social control, the control of individual behaviour by family and kin, by political and education authority, by all the influences which persuade most people to obey the established order. The conditions which were associated with high illegitimacy levels in any one locality tended to be thought of as pathological, and the individuals who engendered bastards as in some way victimized, disordered, even mentally abnormal.” (The report is quoting here a writing by Martine Spensky).

About the Netherlands, the report says: “From the mid-1950s the moral-religious discourse was replaced with a psychiatric discourse in which the single mother was no longer represented as a sinner who had to do penance, but as a woman suffering from psychiatric illness.”

What was the main voice of opposition to eugenics and sterilisation in this period? It was the Catholic Church.

The 1930 papal encyclical Casti Connubii reiterated Church teaching against divorce and artificial contraception, but it was also one of the most important documents of its times condemning eugenics which was becoming more and more popular across the political spectrum.

If the Catholic Church did not exist, would Ireland in the 1930s have embraced eugenics and compulsory sterilisation of anyone considered ‘feeble-minded’ as countries such as Sweden did? It’s a question worth contemplating.

Una tensione morale incapace di riposo

 

Un intellettuale abruzzese poco più che trentenne, nato a Orsogna (Chieti) il 14 gennaio 1921, docente liceale di lettere, non avrebbe forse mai intrapreso una brillante carriera letteraria, destinata a conferirgli stima e notorietà internazionali, senza un fatidico incontro, nel marzo del 1953, con una suora. A rievocarlo fu, molti anni dopo, lo stesso Mario Pomilio, scrittore ormai affermato, pubblicando nel più autobiografico dei suoi libri, Scritti cristiani (1979), una lettera aperta indirizzata a quell’anonima religiosa: l’«angelo della carità» che a Napoli, città elettiva di Pomilio, nella clinica dove sua moglie era stata ricoverata per un delicato intervento chirurgico, rivelò ai due coniugi il grado umilmente eroico delle sue evangeliche virtù. Il giovane insegnante ne fu colpito sino al punto di rimettere in discussione l’agnosticismo connesso alla sua precedente militanza nel Partito socialista (alla politica attiva sarebbe tornato solo nel 1984, eletto al Parlamento europeo come indipendente nelle liste della Democrazia cristiana). Nella sua coscienza riaffiorò il sostrato di religiosità “fisiologica” che, durante l’infanzia e l’adolescenza, vi aveva impresso un’educazione cattolica di austero stampo tradizionalista. Da questo recupero interiore del retaggio familiare scaturì non tanto una conversione quanto una riconversione: una pensosa metànoia, una rinnovata (ancorché a tratti sofferta) adesione ai fondamentali valori cristiani, consolidati nel ricorso diretto al messaggio di Cristo e nella meditazione della Parola biblica così come nello stile del vissuto quotidiano; nell’approfondimento delle radici manzoniane del cattolicesimo liberale così come nella partecipazione all’aggiornamento promosso dal concilio Vaticano II e nella reverente ammirazione per le figure di Giovanni XXIII , Paolo VI e Giovanni Paolo II .

In pari tempo, la scintilla del cortocircuito spirituale scoccato al capezzale della moglie sofferente accese la fiamma di un’ispirazione creativa che generò frutti già maturi fin dall’esordio con L’uccello nella cupola (1954). Scritto di getto in pochi mesi, il romanzo mette in scena nella cornice di Teramo i drammi incrociati di un sacerdote inesperto, bisognoso di verifica sul proprio ministero, e di una giovane donna in preda a sensi di colpa, penitente ansiosa di espiazione. Inibito dal rigorismo dell’educazione ricevuta in seminario, don Giacomo non riesce a salvare la sventurata Marta dall’autodistruzione. Ma quella sconvolgente esperienza pastorale lo guiderà verso un umile riconoscimento della fragilità umana redenta dalla misericordia di Dio. La Grazia vince il peccato.

A reggere l’intero impianto narrativo, sulle orme dell’amato Manzoni, sono una tensione morale incapace di riposo, una concentrazione sulle problematiche esistenziali in tutta la loro dirompente drammaticità, una disposizione a percepire l’essenza creaturale dei personaggi che avrebbero innervato, nel segno di un cristianesimo «interrogante e inquieto» (Carlo Bo), anche le successive imprese di narratore e, in minor misura, saggista. Tra il 1956 e il 1959 vedono la luce tre romanzi: Il testimone, un “poliziesco” sui generis, giocato sul confronto tra un commissario parigino, dubbioso rappresentante della giustizia istituzionale, e l’angosciata compagna di un delinquente; Il cimitero cinese, breve ma limpida e profonda love story nello scenario della Normandia, protagonisti un giovane studioso italiano (alter ego dell’autore) e una studentessa tedesca chiamati dalla forza dei loro sentimenti a una simbolica riconciliazione in rappresentanza dei rispettivi popoli, oltre i condizionamenti psicologici del secondo dopoguerra; Il nuovo corso, apologo “distopico” e fantapolitico, allusivo alla repressione sovietica della rivolta ungherese del 1956.

Tracce di un’ancora oscillante ricerca di compatibilità tra impegno sociale e integrità morale solcano La compromissione (Premio Campiello 1965), parabola amara di un ambizioso parvenu di provincia che, cedendo alle lusinghe della corruzione politica, finisce per bruciare una carriera in embrione e incenerire la sua vita privata. Studi specialistici su Verga e Pirandello precedono nel frattempo la pubblicazione, nel 1967, di saggi e interventi polemici raccolti in Contestazioni, con cui Pomilio si pone al centro del dibattito culturale alla vigilia del Sessantotto.

Cinque anni di lavoro febbrile, in un silenzioso “ritiro” intellettuale, approdano nel 1975 alla clamorosa quanto luminosa epifania di un capolavoro assoluto, senza precedenti e senza paragoni: Il quinto evangelio, pubblicato e più volte ristampato da Rusconi, poi ricomparso presso altri editori, da Mondadori-Oscar (1990) a Bompiani (2000) a L’orma (2015). Un caso davvero straordinario di longevità editoriale, tanto più stupefacente in quanto si tratta di un libro “iperletterario”, accessibile solo a lettori colti, raffinati e sensibili. Alla sua fortuna diede fin da subito un impulso decisivo l’accoglienza entusiastica di autorevoli critici in Italia, in Francia (Prix du meilleur livre étranger), in Polonia (Premio Pax) e altrove, tutti concordi nell’elogiare «un sinfonico epos cristiano», memorabile per l’equilibrio tra mole e qualità della scrittura, per la complessità d’orchestrazione, per la stratificata storicità del disegno, per il connubio tra rigore filologico e arditezza d’invenzione narrativa, per l’iridescente varietà di temi, toni, cifre espressive.

Seme generativo di questo opus magnum, anzi maximum, articolato in diciassette corposi “capitoli”, fu — secondo una testimonianza dello stesso Pomilio — l’idea di un romanzo-saggio che raccontasse, in un arco temporale esteso all’intera vita della Chiesa, il mito di un vangelo sconosciuto, ripetutamente intravisto, balenante per frammenti, sfuggente, mai posseduto, scrigno di un arcano «supplemento di rivelazione»; metafora, in definitiva, dei quattro Vangeli canonici nel loro continuo, vivificante reincarnarsi nella storia dell’umanità. Geniale “falsario”, Pomilio fabbrica fonti fittizie o manipola fonti autentiche, con un’operazione di mimesi linguistica che ricrea la patina sintattico-lessicale propria di ciascun contesto storico. Tale mimetismo insieme concettuale e stilistico risalta soprattutto in tre episodi: Il manoscritto di Vivario, un intreccio epistolare che attraversa l’Europa lungo una pista di sette secoli; Vita del cavalier Du Breuil, memoriale della transizione di un gentiluomo seicentesco dalla severa ascesi dei giansenisti alla gioiosa apertura verso la speranza della salvezza; La giustificazione del sacerdote Domenico De Lellis, ritratto di un presbitero dedito, nella Napoli del Settecento, alla cura pastorale di miseri popolani, in polemica con un clero sfarzoso e corrotto. Riepilogo della quête all’inseguimento del “criptovangelo”, del Sacro Graal della Parola, è infine un testo teatrale, il dramma Il quinto evangelista, ambientato nella Germania del 1940. Se Il quinto evangelio si staglia nel panorama della produzione pomiliana con la maestosità di una cattedrale, la raccolta degli Scritti cristiani, edita da Rusconi nel 1979 e ripubblicata da «Vita e Pensiero» in una «nuova edizione accresciuta» nel 2014, può essere paragonata a un armonioso battistero che custodisce una sorta di “sesto evangelio”. Oltrepassato l’atrio delle memorie familiari (Lettere al padre,, alla figlia, a un amico, a una suora), Pomilio apre il tabernacolo delle sue meditazioni all’incrocio tra fede e letteratura. Rifulgono di sapienza e intelligenza le “accordature” eseguite in preparazione al grande concerto del Quinto evangelio: Cristianesimo e cultura, La Bibbia come letteratura, I Vangeli come letteratura. Si schiude anche, attraverso Preistoria d’un romanzo, uno spiraglio sul laboratorio “quintoevangelico”. E ancora affascinano mente e cuore dei lettori le riflessioni deontologiche sulla Responsabilità dell’uomo di cultura e quelle di sapore profetico su Dio nella società d’oggi.

La «filologia fantastica di Pomilio» (definizione di Pietro Gibellini), la sua attitudine a trascendere la realtà storica per attingere una superiore verità artistica, torna a librarsi ad alta quota nell’ultima opera compiuta, il romanzo breve Il Natale del 1833 (Rusconi, 1983), insignito del Premio Strega. Occupa il centro della scena Alessandro Manzoni, “prigioniero” nel suo palazzo milanese. Dove un lutto devastante, la morte dell’adorata sposa Enrichetta Blondel, lo ha trafitto proprio nel giorno della Natività di Cristo. È, il suo, uno strazio intimo, come un’implosione dell’anima rivelata solo da scarni sedimenti scritti, fra cui due abbozzi frammentari del Natale del 1833, due “aborti” poetici che documentano la crisi del rapporto con un Dio non più amorosamente vicino in Cristo, ma silenziosamente lontano, non tanto «pietoso» quanto «terribile». Da queste labili tracce Pomilio prende lo spunto per una finissima indagine sugli stati d’animo del vedovo, per un’anatomia della sua perturbata sensibilità religiosa. Finché, grazie a un colpo di scena spirituale, il drammatico interrogativo «perché il dolore nel mondo nonostante Dio?» si risolve in una folgorante illuminazione: «La croce di Dio ha voluto essere il dolore di ciascuno; e il dolore di ciascuno è la croce di Dio».

Col trittico Il quinto evangelio – Scritti cristiani – Il Natale del 1833 Mario Pomilio, giunto all’incontro con «sora nostra morte corporale» il 3 aprile 1990, ha consegnato ai posteri un’eredità d’inestimabile valore. Ma finora, in questo XXI secolo segnato da un generale declino umanistico — che si spera non sia irreversibile —, nessuno scrittore ha saputo o voluto raccoglierla nell’intento di svilupparla e perpetuarla. Per quanto ardua, è una sfida che resta comunque aperta. Oggi, cento anni dopo la sua nascita, Pomilio continua a tenderci la sua mano invisibile.

di Marco Beck

New Zealand’s darkly paradoxical attitude towards protecting life

In 2020, New Zealand had great success in protecting its people from Covid-19, a naturally-caused infection, but in a seeming paradox it opened the door to euthanasia, and further liberalised its abortion law, both of which allow for the deliberate killing of human beings.

New Zealand was the first country to put euthanasia to a referendum and, in October 2020, a two-to-one majority of voters confirmed the End-of-Life Choice Act approved the previous year by the Parliament.

Now euthanasia is permitted for those who have a terminal illness and are expected to live no longer than six months. Very few countries in the world allow this.

The Abortion Legislation Act, which came into effect in March 2020, decriminalised abortion in New Zealand. It is one of the most extreme laws in the world.

It permits abortion for any reason up to 20 weeks (around 90pc take place before 12 weeks), and now terminations will also be permitted after 20-weeks gestation if it is “necessary to save the life of the woman or girl or to prevent serious permanent injury to her physical or mental health”.

This might seem a limitation, but in Britain almost all of its 200,000 abortions per annum are conducted on grounds like this. In practice, it is abortion-on-demand.

Pro-life groups say the new law amounts to late-term abortion-on-demand, as there is no limit to what might be deemed to cause permanent injury to the “mental health” of the mother.

The New Zealand legislators also refused to introduce an explicit ban on sex-selective abortion and there is no legal requirement to give pain relief to the foetus, even after 20 weeks. The same happened in Ireland when pro-life deputies introduced similar amendments.

In the previous legislation, a termination could only be performed by a doctor while now any qualified health practitioner can perform an abortion in New Zealand. The absence of a doctor increases the risk for the woman in case of a complication.

A recent article from University College Cork researchers highlighted that in Ireland conflicts have emerged within medical teams when considering the practice of feticide as an alternative to induced delivery. Feticide has been described as “brutal”, “awful”, and “emotionally difficult” by those doctors. The alternative is an induced delivery but there is a possibility that the baby survives, raising the question of if and what kind of care the newborn is entitled to. 

The study says: “This generated concern for the Fetal Medicine Specialists as they are ‘unclear as to who will look after these babies’ if a baby is born alive following termination of pregnancy by induction of labour and without feticide, resulting in them ‘begging people to help’ them in providing palliative care” … Some participants expressed ‘friction’ with neonatologists because of an expectation for ‘universal feticide’ to ensure that no baby was born alive. … some expressed that feticide needed to be mandatory for late gestations because it was in the best interest of the baby to not be born alive.” (p. 5) 

To avoid such conflicts in New Zealand, the Minister of Health has stated in a document setting the “standards for abortion services” that “feticide should be part of the medical abortion process after 22 weeks. Should a woman not consent to feticide, the New Zealand Maternal Fetal Maternity Network considers the abortion should not go ahead, because induction of labour where there is the possibility of neonatal survival is not an abortion.” (p. 19)

This document, following the new legislation, makes feticide the obligatory method of abortion after 22 weeks so that no aborted baby has a chance to be born alive. This is the morbid logic of abortion: no one should survive.

The New Zealand law also introduced censorship zones around abortion facilities, which are quite rare in the world. 

Thankfully this provision has no practical consequences as some deputies voted by accident a free -speech amendment that deleted the parts of the bill that would give legal effect to the censorship zones. This happened due by some misunderstanding but the vote, once cast, was not repeated. While the definition of “safe zones” remains in the legislation, it is legally redundant as the effects have been removed from the Bill. 

What is happening in New Zealand shows that while a country can go to extraordinary lengths to protect its people from death by natural causes, it will also go to great lengths to facilitate the choice of killing the unborn, the old and the infirm by deliberate means.

To put it another way, death by natural causes is considered a greater evil than death-by-deliberate choice.

How to Sound Like Scriabin

Legion of Mary’s humane alternative to the Mother and Baby homes

 

The report on the Mother and Baby Homes makes for often disturbing reading. Unmarried mothers were routinely consigned to institutions such as mother and baby or county homes and eventually separated from their children. One organisation followed a different path, namely the Legion of Mary. The report itself acknowledges this. It says: “before the 1970s, Regina Coeli was the only institution that assisted unmarried mothers to keep their infant”. Regina Coeli is a hostel in Dublin opened by Frank Duff in the 1930s and run by the Legion of Mary which offered a more humane alternative to the Mother and Baby Homes.

Dr Finola Kennedy, academic and biographer of Frank Duff, in a talk hosted by the Iona Institute in 2017 described how, from that time, and very much against the prevailing mood of society, Frank Duff and the Legion of Mary helped unmarried mothers to keep their babies. The Legion’s approach was not judgmental or condemnatory. Duff, the Legion’s founder, very strongly believed in the mother/child bond. He offered a true, Christian alternative to what was happening elsewhere.

Dr Kennedy’s full talk can be found here. A summary of it can be found here.

 

Cento anni fa nasceva Pomilio genio e gentilezza abruzzesi 

Intellettuale attraversato da passione politica, studioso di Pirandello e Manzoni

di Giovanni D’Alessandro

L’Abruzzo ha in questi giorni un’occasione da non perdere per celebrare la propria presenza nella cultura del Novecento, ricordando lo scrittore Mario Pomilio, nato da famiglia abruzzese a Orsogna nel gennaio 1921 e poi trasferitosi ad Avezzano, a Pisa e a Napoli, dove insegnò nelle scuole superiori e poi come cattedratico di Letteratura Italiana al Conservatorio di San Pietro a Majella.
Morto nella città partenopea ad aprile del 1990, Pomilio espresse una personalità artistica e una levatura intellettuale così peculiari che è difficile tracciarne le coordinate in una breve rievocazione, sicché converrà partire da una domanda sulla quale tutti convengono, al di là della varietà di risposte: perché al nome di Mario Pomilio, pur oggi che non è tanto ricordato, elogiativamente si sollevano tutte le sopracciglia, in segno di ammirazione? Per la sua attualità: fu un intellettuale attraversato dalla passione anche politica – fin dagli esordi nell’antifascismo letterario a metà degli anni Quaranta, quando studiava alla Normale di Pisa, e fu sorpreso qui in Abruzzo dall’8 settembre 1943; sicché riversò questa passione in uno dei romanzi più dolenti del dopoguerra, ambientato a Teramo, “La compromissione” (1965), apprezzato sia da sinistra sia da destra, vincitore del Premio Campiello, con tema l’Italia tradita dal partitismo nei suoi ideali di resistenza e tratteggiò nel protagonista, un professore di provincia, l’incomponibile rapporto tra ideali e ideologia, coscienza e militanza.
Ma anche – viene da rispondere – perché in Mario Pomilio si riconosce un’autenticità di interrogazione sul senso della vita e sulla fede cristiana ispiratrice di vari suoi romanzi; per questo viene di solito ascritto ai romanzieri cristiani del Novecento sebbene le etichette siano sempre riduttive, in quanto indagò il mondo laico con scandaglio mai moralistico, didascalico o confessionale.
Oppure l’ammirazione per lui nasce da uno stile elegante e limpido, come una partitura di rare melodie e armonie, in cosciente contrapposizione agli sperimentalismi nati nei primi anni Sessanta, destinati ad affliggere lingua e letteratura nostrane – e che lui sempre avversò anche quale critico, insieme con scrittori napoletani coetanei come Rea, Compagnone, Prisco –; limpidezza e nitore di scrittura che gli venivano dall’amore per il verismo italiano (pubblicò saggi su Verga), per la scena (fu studioso di Pirandello) e soprattutto dal suo amore per Alessandro Manzoni, alla cui moglie Enrichetta Blondel dedicò “Il Natale del 1833”, solo romanzo abruzzese insignito dello Strega (nel 1983), dopo “Tempo di uccidere” di Ennio Flaiano (nel 1947). Bisogna fermarsi qui coi meriti e coi premi di Pomilio, passando in secondo piano quanto fu amato dai lettori; pubblicato e tradotto all’estero a ogni uscita, in molte edizioni (con numeri altissimi, specie per il suo romanzo forse più famoso, attraversato dalla tematica cristiana, “Il quinto evangelio”; ma anche per “Il Cimitero cinese” e per lo stesso “Natale del 1833” che furono long seller, non solo best seller).
Di un aspetto non può tuttavia rimanere privo un ritratto di Mario Pomilio: la gentilezza. Pomilio fu uomo straordinariamente garbato, amabile e per questo da rimpiangere oggi, in tempi nei quali il narratore, l’intellettuale devono praticare la cifra urlata, aggressiva per avere cittadinanza nei media.
Appartenne alla rara compagine degli intellettuali ecumenici per superiorità; immergersi in un suo romanzo significa lasciarsi avvolgere da un’affabulazione complice, quasi affettuosa, che rapisce; ma significa anche entrare in un mondo nel quale le stesse disarmonie, le brutture, che denunciò, si elevano a rappresentazione di contrasti senza tempo dell’animo umano, di cui fu grande scrittore e descrittore. Appartenne all’inquietudine, anche personalmente irrisolta sotto l’aspetto politico e religioso: ma che lo portò ad ospitare il contributo altrui, pur se idealmente remoto, in vista di una superiore composizione nella grazia dei toni e dell’apertura al dialogo.
Lo provano le sue interviste televisive, che trasferiscono l’immagine di una grande anima abruzzese, nutrita di sofferta sensibilità e sorridente nel rapporto con gli altri; forte della coscienza del proprio valore e gentile nel non farlo pesare.

The morality of Covid vaccines

 A number of vaccines are being produced to fight Covid-19 but some of them are creating problems of conscience, as it is well documented that some cell lines used in the development, production or testing of vaccines are derived from aborted foetuses. 

Does this mean that those vaccines should always be rejected? Is their use always ethically unacceptable? There is no simple answer to these questions, as we will see. We need to distinguish the process from the product, even if it is not an easy task. 

There is no doubt that the harvesting of foetal tissue is deeply immoral. It is always morally wrong to participate, at any stage, in the experimentation and production of vaccines that involve cell lines derived from abortions, as this would be a direct cooperation with an evil practice. No good intention, such as saving lives through vaccination, can justify what is intrinsically (always and per se) evil. But what should we do once the product exists? If we use it, to what extend are we responsible for its unethical production? 

While the process is intrinsically wrong, the product, in itself, is not. I will use an analogy to clarify my argument. It is not unethical to cross a bridge that was built by slaves 2,000 years ago. The building process was morally wrong but the product, i.e. the bridge itself, is not. But imagine there is a construction company that nowadays uses forced labour to build bridges. Not only it would be immoral to employ this company for public works, but we also have a duty to publicly denounce this awful practice and do our best to stop it. 

Suppose the bridge exists and it was built only recently by a company that it is still active and it charges a fee for its use, making profit. Is it wrong to make use of it and pay the toll if there is no alternative available and the bridge is necessary to save lives? To what extend are we accomplices with the unethical builders? Here is where the difficulty lies. 

We need to bear in mind that the purchase of a product fosters its production. Using vaccines obtained from unethical practices does contribute to their public legitimisation and encourages the perpetuation of those immoral practices. On the other side, we need to consider that there is a duty to save lives with legitimate means, and there are degrees of responsibility. Those who are at the end of a long chain that goes from the production to the intake, are the least responsible. 

Ethical alternatives always have to be preferred. When this is not reasonably possible, there could be grave reasons to accept morally contentious vaccines, in order to save lives, but only as the last resource and until a more ethically acceptable alternative becomes available. 

At the same time, moral objections should be clearly made public so that the use of an ethically contentious product should in no way appear as a form of endorsement or condoning of a wicked form of production. 

On December 21 the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith produced a document stating: 

When ethically irreproachable Covid-19 vaccines are not available (e.g. in countries where vaccines without ethical problems are not made available to physicians and patients, or where their distribution is more difficult due to special storage and transport conditions, or when various types of vaccines are distributed in the same country but health authorities do not allow citizens to choose the vaccine with which to be inoculated) it is morally acceptable to receive Covid-19 vaccines that have used cell lines from aborted foetuses in their research and production process … the licit use of such vaccines does not and should not in any way imply that there is a moral endorsement of the use of cell lines proceeding from aborted foetuses.

Some bioethicists and religious leaders have argued along these same lines. The Irish Catholic Bishops’ Conference, for instance, has recently stated: 

If a more ethically acceptable alternative is not readily available to them, it is morally permissible for Catholics to accept a vaccine which involves the use of foetal cell-lines, especially if the potential risk to life or health is significant, as in the case of a pandemic. Refusal to accept a vaccine could contribute to significant loss of life in the community and especially among those who are most vulnerable. This reality must inform any judgement of conscience. We reaffirm the consistent teaching of the Church that abortion is always gravely immoral. The Church has always made a distinction, however, between formal (deliberate) involvement in an immoral act and material involvement, which may be incidental and remote. The decision of those who decide to accept vaccines which have had some link with foetal cell-lines in the past does not imply any consent on their part to abortion.

The Bishops’ Conference of England and Wales explained the distinction between deliberate and accidental involvement, making reference to the questionable history of vaccination: 

The Church distinguishes between the present unethical sourcing of vaccines and the use of historical cell-lines which were derived from aborted foetuses in the 1970s. Human society has often benefited from the wrongs done in the past for which we must repent. We live with the benefits of very questionable medical experimentation. For example, Edward Jenner, who invented vaccination, conducted research by injecting an 8-year-old boy with cowpox followed by smallpox. While today such experimentation would be unethical by any standards, we wouldn’t deny life-saving vaccination because of its dubious historic provenance. 

Bioethicists Jeffrey Barrows and Jonathan Imbody tackle the same issue. In a recent Public Discourse piece they write: “Several mitigating principles can help assuage the concerns of conscientious end users of drugs that have some connection to abortion: the distance in time from the original abortion to the present use of the drug and the lack of availability of any ethical alternatives.” 

Peter A Comensoli, Archbishop of Melbourne and Chair of the Australian Bishops Commission for Life, Family and Public Engagement, on behalf of Australia’s Catholic bishops, says that “the use of an ethically compromised vaccine is acceptable if no other option is available, in order to protect lives.” 

The US Catholic Medical Association agrees and quotes from a Vatican document on the licit use of vaccines dating back to June 2005, during the early days of the Benedict XVI pontificate. The Association states: “When no alternative vaccines are available, it must be reaffirmed that the use of vaccines whose production is connected with acts of procured abortion is lawful ‘on a temporary basis’ and ‘insomuch as is necessary’ to avoid significant risk to the health of an individual or the community.” However, they add: “When no alternative vaccines are available, there is a ‘moral duty to continue to fight and to employ every lawful means’ to pressure the pharmaceutical industry, government authorities and national health systems to make ethical alternatives available.” (The document of the Pontifical Academy for Life quoted is called Moral Reflections on Vaccines Prepared from Cells Derived from Aborted Human Foetuses.) 

Totally ethical vaccines always have to be preferred over morally questionable ones but, when they are not available, there can still be good reasons to use morally contentious vaccines that have already been created, as outlined by the various authorities quoted above. Hopefully in due course, vaccines that protect against Covid and have no connection to abortion, even a very remote and distant one, will become available for use.

Contrary to popular belief, religious men do more housework than the norm

 

It goes against the lazy stereotype of the traditionalist, bread-winning male and the subservient wife who does all the housework, but new research has found that men who attend religious services regularly spend more time doing housework than most other men. The other group of men who do more housework than the norm, are non-religious and egalitarian-minded. What both groups may have in common is, simply, conscientiousness.

The impact of religion on the domestic division of labour has not been properly investigated to date, but new research from academics at the Department of Sociology in the University of Utah presents evidence using data from the International Social Survey Programme (ISSP). The sample included 10,619 men from 34 countries and measured men’s housework participation, according to their religiosity.

Several unexpected findings emerged.

Contrary to expectation, this study found that more frequent religious attendance is associated with greater participation in some housework chores and time spent on housework.

Women’s share of housework is higher than that of men in all societies but there is a general movement, particularly in Western countries, toward greater equality in the division of chores. The study shows that this increased participation of men can be motivated by a nonreligious equalitarian ideology as much as by a religious, family-centered one. Those who practice only occasionally are those less involved in the house.

The researchers from the University of Utah write: “our findings indicate that conservative religious membership and reduced housework participation do not enjoy a direct, linear relationship; rather, highly religious men may find themselves taking on a greater share of housework despite their feelings on the gendered nature of those tasks.” (p. 405)

Faith sets high expectation for husbands and fathers and this translates into more time in the home, especially if children are present, and also in greater cooperation with their wives.

With regard to the total amount of time spent, “men in all Catholic countries, Hindu, and non-religious countries report more housework hours than men in Western Protestant countries net of a broad range of individual and household characteristics”. (p. 404)

The study concentrated on four tasks: laundry, shopping for groceries, preparing meals, and cleaning.

The researchers found that “men who attend religious services weekly share more in laundry tasks and report significantly longer housework hours” (p. 401) They also found that, when compared to non-religious men, those who attend less regularly are the group reporting a more traditional division of labour for grocery shopping, preparation of meals, and cleaning.

The association between religiosity and men’s housework involvement is definitively complex and there are variances within the same religion, depending on sociocultural factors. Still, a stronger religious sentiment enforces a sense of responsibility at home, which can also translate into more chores sharing and, generally, more time spent housekeeping.

Commenting on this study, Laurie DeRose and Anna Barren wrote on the blog of the Institute for Family Studies: “There is discourse that claims gendered ideologies inhibit men’s involvement. But most religions are pronatalist and family-oriented. Many religions are also proponents of traditional gender ideologies that view the man’s role as leader, protector, and provider. Given that understanding, it seems safe to assume that many highly religious men have a vested interest in carrying out their role as the family head with involved love and devotion, especially, since faith adds a certain divine calling to each of the roles. It would be surprising if a man called to value his wife above his work would be content to spend his evenings being served by her.”

HSE letter whitewashes conflict between doctors over late-term abortions

 

Last November, the Iona Institute drew attention to an academic study from University College Cork which strongly indicates that late-term abortions are taking place in Irish hospitals, with the babies sometimes being left to die following a termination.

The study was mostly ignored by mainstream media in Ireland but attracted some attention internationally. It was also mentioned twice in the Seanad and it sparked a debate in the Dail.

During the debate the Minister for Health, Stephen Donnelly, who wasn’t present and spoke through a representative, failed to recognise the horror of what is happening in Irish hospitals. He simply referred to the current legislation and to the clinical guidelines.

After the debate, Deputy Carol Nolan asked Minister Donnelly to address the study which referred to conflicts between abortion doctors and neonatologists about what should happen to a baby if it born alive following a late-term abortion. The Minister referred the question to the HSE, which have replied with a letter that you can read here.

There was also the question of when an unborn child actually has a fatal abnormality and therefore a legal abortion is permitted after 12 weeks pregnancy. This has also given rise to disputes between doctors.

The HSE letter contains some claims that are in obvious contradiction with the personal testimonies of the doctors interviewed in the UCC study.

For example, the letter says: “The multidisciplinary team including both foetal medical specialists [some of whom conduct abortions] and neonatologists works together in a cohesive manner in the provision of this care [care for the mother only]. Discussions between the specialities are both complex and detailed. The entire multidisciplinary team is united in providing respectful, compassionate care, advocating for the needs of both mother and foetus.”

 The UCC study, instead, highlights the conflicts arising between different members of the multidisciplinary team when cases involving late-term abortions of children with possibly lethal conditions arise.

It says: “Despite identifying the need for collaborative working, nearly all participants experienced ‘conflict’ or ‘opposition’ when discussing the fatality of conditions. Half of the fetal medicine specialists described meetings involving ‘contentious cases’ as being ‘divisive’.”

It continued: “They shared that there was ‘a massive uncomfortableness’ and ‘suspicion’ with termination of pregnancies. Over half of the Fetal Medicine Specialists experienced conflict with neonatologists. Participants reported frustration that these colleagues would engage in decision making for termination of pregnancies for fatal foetal abnormality but would refuse to care for the woman and her baby ‘if the driving force was termination’. This generated concern for fetal medicine specialists as they are ‘unclear as to who will look after those babies’ if a baby is born alive following termination of pregnancy by induction of labour and without feticide, resulting in them ‘begging people to help’ them in providing palliative care.” (p. 5)

This is the opposite of what the HSE letter claims. The UCC study clearly mentions conflict among specialist among its results: “Although they recognised teamwork as essential, conflict and opposition was widespread within their practice, as a result of differences of opinion regarding what qualifies as an fatal foetal abnormality and the practice of feticide.” (p. 6)

Both the Minister and the HSE should not downplay the level of division and conflict about abortion that exists within the Irish maternity system, and they should acknowledge the brutal reality of late-term abortions and feticide.

The HSE letter amounts to a white-wash that covers up the grim reality of what is happening in our hospitals.

ASPETTANDO IL CENTENARIO DANTESCO

SPIRITI MAGNI E GRANDI BUFALE

Di Franco Cardini

Nell’approssimarsi del 2021, “Anno Dantesco” – e nella speranza ch’esso ci porti in dono anche la liberazione dall’epidemia –, è utile auspicare che alcune questioni dantesche vengano definitivamente risolte; e che su alcuni equivoci si faccia finalmente piena luce.
In tempi di trasformazione epocale della “cultura diffusa” in seguito alla crisi delle istituzioni tradizionali scolastiche e universitarie e del diffondersi dei social (con la conseguenza allarmante di un intensificarsi della confusione dei linguaggi e della perdita progressiva di ancoraggi culturali autorevoli sui quali fondarsi) stanno pericolosamente riemergendo questioni dalle quali speravamo di essere definitivamente usciti.
Una delle più divertenti da un lato e angoscianti dall’altro riguarda Dante e il suo tempo: quella dei “Fedeli d’Amore”. Una strana storia, un equivoco nato fra Otto e Novecento e in seguito bizzarramente trascinatosi dopo l’affermarsi nella nostra cultura sia d’élite, sia “diffusa”, dell’interruzione di un dialogo che ha dato luogo a una sorta di schizofrenia, di dialogo tra sordi.
Cominciamo dal principio. Nel sonetto dantesco A ciascun’alma, il primo accolto nella Vita Nova, il poeta allora diciottenne (si è quindi nel 1283) c’informa di essere stato còlto nella sua stanza “da un soave sonno” dopo aver incontrato per la seconda volta “la gloriosa donna de la mia mente, la quale fu chiamata da molti Beatrice”. Durante il sonno, egli narra di essere stato visitato verso l’alba da uno di quelli che Carl Gustav Jung avrebbe definito “sogni significanti”: svegliatosi, aveva composto un sonetto e lo aveva inviato alla ristretta cerchia di coloro che egli chiama “tutti li Fedeli d’Amore” – Guido Cavalcanti e Lapo Gianni principalmente –, pregandoli “che giudicassero la mia visione”. La quale era terribile: Dante aveva sognato il loro “signore”, cioè Amore personificato, il quale teneva fra le braccia “madonna” (cioè Beatrice) addormentata e che stringeva nella sua mano il cuore di Dante stesso, ardente; e, svegliatala, la costringeva spaventata a mangiarlo. Il “cuore ardente” e il “cuore mangiato” sono immagini archetipiche fondamentali nella nostra cultura, e anche in altre: ne parla anche il Boccaccio, nella nona novella della IV giornata del Decameron^[1].
L’ispiratore primario del giovane Dante era il poeta Guido Guinizzelli, il quale a sua volta era divenuto un celebre caposcuola per la sua canzone Al cor gentil, nella quale con efficace e affascinante chiarezza, ma sulla base di un’esile autocoscienza filosofica, aveva diffuso la lezione ripresa in pieno XII secolo dal trattato De amore di Andrea Cappellano, chierico al servizio di Maria di Champagne, figlia di Luigi VII di Francia e della grande Eleonora d’Aquitania, e pertanto sorella di Riccardo Cuor di Leone. Ora, Eleonora aveva fatto conoscer in Francia settentrionale, cioè nel “paese della lingua d’oïl”, la poetica di suo padre Guglielmo IX, duca d’Aquitania e celebre trovatore, fondata sul servizio dell’innamorato all’amata: il primo considerato vassallo (fizel, cioè fidelis) della seconda, che gli ha concesso in feudo il suo stesso cuore. Ma la dottrina di Andrea era una metafora del magistero relativo all’amore che risaliva a Platone e che, dopo aver animato tutto il neoplatonismo medievale, era giunto nella cristianità occidentale alla sua piena maturazione con il platonismo della scuola di Chartres, cui ha dedicato un “classico” Tullio Gregory^[2].
Il fatto è che nella Christianitas latina l’aristotelismo scolastico di Tommaso d’Aquino, principale referente di Dante, aveva spazzato via quasi del tutto – e il poco rimasto lo aveva stravolto – quella grande tradizione neoplatonica ellenistica che aveva resistito fino alla scuola di Chartres del XII secolo e senza la quale gli stessi Agostino e Boezio, capifila della filosofia cristiana medievale, risultavano quasi incomprensibili. Il grande successo di Dante, quindi il profondo mutamento culturale della Modernità e la riscoperta dantesca d’età romantica fecero il resto.
Durante il secolo XIX Dante e il suo richiamo ai “Fedeli d’Amore” (ormai divenuto un gruppo penitenziale esclusivo e segreto, una “sètta”) fu reinterpretato alla luce dell’equivoco misticismo politico laicista “ghibellino” di Ugo Foscolo^[3], di Gabriele Rossetti^[4] e di suo figlio il pittore preraffaellita Dante Gabriele^[5], ohimè legittimati dalla sterminata, equivoca erudizione di Giovanni Pascoli^[6]. Tutta questa affascinante, ingovernabile massa di coltissimi malintesi trovò un rielaboratore e sistematore in un professore liceale di filosofia, Luigi Valli, responsabile tra Otto e Novecento di una teoria generale complottistica che di Dante e dei suoi immaginari sodali faceva gli eroi contro una congiura oscurantistica ordita nei secoli dal papato^[7].
Era così nata la “sètta” medievale dei “Fedeli d’Amore”, oscuramente collegata al catarismo, al templarismo e alla Weltanschauung massonica, alla quale avevano fornito credibilità gli stessi saggi dell’esoterista René Guénon. Il tutto era stato sigillato da un altro geniale e coltissimo pasticcione, Alfonso Ricolfi, anch’egli documentato critico dei “Fedeli d’Amore” e delle “Corti d’Amore” in polemica col Valli^[8].
Bisogna dire che i professionisti della ricerca storico-filolgica dantesca, anziché replicare mostrando semplicemente gli equivoci generati dalle scarse cognizioni filologiche del giovane Dante (e anche di quello non più giovane) a proposito del neoplatonismo antico e medievale, si erano dottamente impegnati a sottolineare che i “Fedeli d’Amore” erano una costruzione immaginaria; e l’avevano fatto in modo irreprensibile, ma con l’aiuto di documenti autentici sì, che per loro natura tutto potevano provare però meno che l’inesistente non fosse mai esistito.
Risultato di tutto ciò, un’allucinante follia schizofrenica: da una parte storici e filologi occupati a scomunicare – si leggano le pagine di Eugenio Garin, di Antonio Viscardi, di Natalino Sapegno – l’inconsistenza e l’irrazionalismo dei seguaci del Rossetti e del Valli, dall’altra coloro che ne approfondiscono incuranti le tematiche. Il punto però è che entrambe le “scuole” – chiamiamole così – sono partite da dante e hanno seguito le polemiche nate sui “Fedeli d’Amore” fino ai giorni nostri senza ascoltare mai l’altra campana. Sarebbe stato sufficiente che gli studiosi seri e i dantisti filologicamente attrezzati avessero ricostruito – e avrebbero potuto ben farlo – le lacune di Dante relative ai fondamenti neoplatonici dell’Amor cortese. Il Contini e il Vinay c’erano andati vicini; nel segno ha colpito la scuola di Maria Teresa Beonio Brocchieri, che però non si era preoccupata di “disincantare” né il Pascoli né il Valli. Oggi, Franco Galletti torna sui “Fedeli d’Amore” con La bella veste della verità, (Udine, Mimesis, 2020, pp. 602), nel quale ricostruisce l’influenza della dottrina avviata (involontariamente) dal giovane Dante sui secoli successivi senza però nemmeno toccare “l’anello debole”, la sua inconsistente conoscenza del neoplatonismo del XII secolo che gli avrebbe fatto capir tutto; e sì che nel frattempo il capolavoro di Tullio Gregory è stato ristampato (esaminate il silenzio della sua bibliografia su alcuni autori a proposito di catari, di poesia francese medievale e di templari: capirete tutto). Quanto ad Alberto Ventura, che ha fornito al Galletti l’assistenza delle sue solide cognizioni islamologiche, egli parla certamente con ottime ragioni del sufismo musulmano, senza avvertirci (non era suo còmpito il farlo) che esso – pur essendo l’Islam, col commento aristotelico di Averroè, alla base della scolastica tomista – non aveva mai reciso né dissimulato il rapporto con la tradizione neoplatonica.
Insomma: un grazie a Rossetti che ha riportato la nostra attenzione sull’equivoco tardoromantico-esoterico-massonico della lettura di Dante e un invito a tutti a riprendere in mano le cose dal principio. Cultura, alla fine e nella sostanza, è questo: avere il coraggio e l’energia di rimettersi in discussione.

^[1] Se con Dante il cuore mangiato ha una dimensione onirica e metafisica, in Boccaccio recupera la fisicità della tradizione precedente. Due novelle del Decameron contengono questo tema: nella IV.9 «Messer Guiglielmo Rossiglione dá a mangiare alla moglie sua il cuore di messer Guiglielmo Guardastagno ucciso da lui ed amato da lei; il che ella sappiendo poi, si gitta da un’alta finestra in terra e muore, e col suo amante è sepellita». Nella IV.1 «Tancredi, prenze di Salerno, uccide l’amante della figliuola e mandale il cuore in una coppa d’oro; la quale, messa sopra esso acqua avvelenata, quella si bee, e cosí muore». Entrambe le novelle sono inserite nella quarta giornata, quella degli amori infelici; nel secondo caso il pasto immondo non avviene, nel primo invece sì, in una delle varianti più note nella letteratura: l’amante si vendica del tradimento costringendo a mangiare il cuore dell’amante; tuttavia, in altri esempi è l’amante morente a chiedere che il suo cuore venga estratto e portato alla donna come prova della fedeltà. La storia del cuore di Guglielmo Guardastagno trova un parallelo molto preciso nella letteratura indiana (La storia di Raja Rasálu), mentre Boccaccio lo trae dalla leggendaria vita del trovatore occitano Guilhem de Cabestaing, vissuto a cavallo fra XII e XIII secolo: Guilhem è amante di Seremonda, moglie del signore Raimondo di Rossiglione, e quando quest’ultimo viene a sapere della loro relazione, lo uccide durante una battuta di caccia, ne estirpa il cuore e lo fa cucinare per essere servito a tavola alla sua consorte la quale, venuta a conoscenza della verità, si suicida gettandosi da una finestra del palazzo.

^[2] T. Gregory, Anima mundi, n.ed., Firenze 1955, n.ed. Spoleto 2020.

^[3] Per Ugo Foscolo e il suo equivoco “ghibellin fuggiasco”, cfr. l’edizione degli Atti del I congresso nazionale di studi danteschi, 1962, con contributi – fra gli alti – di B. Nardi e T. Marcialis, e P. Giannantonio, Dante e l’allegorismo, Firenze 1969.

^[4] G. Rossetti, Il mistero dell’amor platonico nel medioevo, voll. 5, Londra 1840; Idem, La Beatrice di Dante, ivi 1842.

^[5] R. Lo Schiavo, La poesia di Dante Gabriele Rossetti, Roma 1957.

^[6] G. Pascoli, Scritti danteschi, a cura di A. Vicinelli, Milano 1952.

^[7] La sua opera più nota è L. Valli, Il linguaggio segreto di Dante e dei Fedeli d’Amore, voll. 2, Roma 1928-30.

^[8] A. Ricolfi, Studi sui Fedeli d’Amore, Roma 1933; Idem, Dal problema del gergo al crollo d’un regno, Genova 1940.