February 7, 2020
Cover image: Memorial to victims of the Spiegelgrund clinic in Vienna (Vienna, 2008)
When Darkness Is Complete
Ombre e Luci is our magazine's name, our motto, three words that reflect how we have reported on and lived within the world of disability and fragility for nearly forty years now. But this time the darkness is total. The shadows deepen when we speak of Operation T4—the systematic extermination of people with disabilities conceived and carried out by Nazi Germany. Germany was not alone in this crime (we must return someday to the eugenics of so-called civilized nations), but as Memorial Day approaches, we must remember that alongside Jews, Roma, homosexuals, Jehovah's Witnesses, and political prisoners, infants, children, adolescents, adults, and elderly people of both sexes with disabilities were the systematic targets of a policy of death. The operation took its name from a Berlin street, Tiergarten Straße, at number 4 of which stood a villa confiscated from a Jewish family—the seat of the office responsible for the program. Devised in 1936, officially suspended in 1941 due to protests from parts of the population and the courageous sermons of Bishop Clemens von Galen, yet in fact carried out until 1945, the extermination of "lives unworthy of living" officially began in October 1939. In a deliberately vague letter that left room for the "specialists'" imagination to run wild, Hitler authorized the "granting of a merciful death to patients deemed incurable." The final toll was roughly 250,000 people killed, including 5,000 children, most after enduring terrible suffering and criminal experiments. That toll is made even more bitter by the fact that several zealous officials—such as the Austrian physician Heinrich Gros, who after the war had a long and distinguished career as a forensic psychiatrist—essentially escaped punishment. Once a subject of historical research after initial neglect, Operation T4 has recently become the focus of scholarly essays, novels, exhibitions, theatrical productions, and films,
some examples of which we cite here. Reading, hearing, and watching these accounts is genuinely difficult—but necessary. Not only because remembrance is above all a duty to the victims ("I wanted those names and faces to become individuals again," declared Steve Sem-Sandberg, author of The Chosen), but because remembrance is the only light left to us to avoid losing ourselves in darkness. And to try not to fail again.
Building a World Different, Equal for All
In the 1970s, a member of the Order of the Sons of the Immaculate Conception brought medical care and assistance to one of Africa's poorest communities, in Sangmelima, Cameroon. His name was Brother Clemente Maino, a missionary and nurse—a dokita, a doctor, in the local Bulu language. Clemente died in 1974…
Read more.
Continuing our feature on
Film and Disability, we now hear from
Claudio Cinus (starting from a
Variety article that, a few weeks ago, asked why actors with disabilities remain chronically absent from Oscar nominations) and
Enrica Riera (who reminds us all of the universal message "I have the right to be heard").
I am very happy that my classmates Francesco and Joelle broke up. Very happy. Really, truly happy. That whole thing with them being together and kissing each other...
Read more.
Agenda
Online — To connect with caregivers (or "curacari," in the wonderful term coined by
Flavio Pagano) across Italy and push institutions toward thoughtful legislation on their role, the association Genitori Tosti in Tutti i Posti has launched an
online survey. Essential for anyone providing round-the-clock care for a loved one—please share it.
Udine — From February 3 to 7, over 500 athletes compete in the
Special Olympics National Winter Games. Now in its thirty-first edition, the Games bring together athletes with intellectual disabilities.
Florence — On January 29 at 5 p.m., the Museo degli Innocenti and L'abilità onlus present a
discussion of Museum for All, a project designed to guarantee people with intellectual disabilities access to culture.
Faith and Light
On February 2, the
Festival of Light returns, an annual celebration of the movement. But why was this date chosen? On the Faith and Light website, we tell the story of its origins and share this year's festival calendar.
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