In 2014, during the Israeli attack on Gaza, which killed more than 2,200 Palestinians, Giorgia Meloni, then a member of the Italian Parliament, wrote on social media: “Another massacre of children in Gaza. No cause is justifiable when innocent blood is shed.”
More than a decade later, that moral clarity is still nowhere to be found.
As Prime Minister, Meloni’s comments on Gaza have become increasingly cautious and evasive, marked by a “on the one hand, on the other” tone that frustrates many Italians. His address on war against Iran last March captured that ambiguity perfectly. She declared that she “neither condones nor condemns” the conflict, a sentence that managed to confuse many people while clarifying nothing.
So when Italy announced earlier this month that it was suspending the automatic renewal of its defense agreement with Israel, many observers hailed it as a turning point: evidence, perhaps, that Meloni’s government was finally bowing under the moral weight of Gaza’s destruction. Some hoped that this gesture, no matter how cautious, was a rare nod to the conscience of Italians who had been marching for months demanding an end to the war.
Yet it is impossible to ignore the sequence that led to the suspension. This did not happen after the killing of approximately 75,000 Palestinians, nor after the destruction of Gaza’s hospitals, schools and mosques. Meloni took action only after Israeli forces fired warning shots at a convoy of Italian UN peacekeepers in Lebanon, a sequel to the 2024 incident in which two UNIFIL bases manned by Italian personnel were attacked by Israeli forces.
This pattern is telling. For the Italian government to move this was not a humanitarian disaster, but another direct insult to Italian personnel.
The same reaction was seen when United States President Donald Trump insulted Pope Leo XIV. Then Meloni issued a rare criticism of Trump, calling his words “unacceptable.” Until then, he had found his conduct in Gaza, Cuba, Venezuela and Lebanon quite tolerable. Once again, calculations struck: She could not afford to alienate the conservative Catholic voters who are the backbone of her political base.
Meloni’s foreign policy follows this script of moral performance. Italy is the only Western European and G7 nation to also participate as an “observer” on Trump’s so-called peace board, a body that many Italian commentators have derided as cynical theater, calling Italy a “vassal of the United States.”
A European citizens’ petition gathered over one million signatures calling on the EU to suspend its cooperation agreement with Israel for “crimes in Gaza”; Italy came second in participation after France. This surge in public protest came after last October’s general strike in solidarity with the Global Sumud Flotilla, when more than two million Italians filled the streets to demand what many consider to be a massacre.
But the government’s symbolic gestures routinely fall apart as soon as they make headlines. Within days of suspending the defense deal, Italy quietly joined with Germany to once again block the EU’s attempt to suspend the trade deal with Israel.
Meloni’s Italy, it turns out, performs dissent but practices obedience.
Just like in January 2024, Foreign Minister Antonio Tajani loudly announced a moratorium on arms exports to Israel, but Defense Minister Guido Crosetto made it clear that the moratorium only applies to new licenses, not existing contracts.
And this week, Meloni “condemned” Israel for seizing international vessels from the Global Sumud Flotilla and detaining activists, including several Italians, yet taking no concrete diplomatic action. Instead, he doubled down on his claim that the flotilla “does not provide meaningful assistance to those in need.” But surveys now show a wide gap between government rhetoric and public sentiment. Even many conservative voters who were once sympathetic to Israel have become uncomfortable with the scale of civilian suffering and recent events survey found that only 11 percent of Italians consider Israel “an ally”. This unease is politically dangerous for Maloney, who has defined his leadership by nationalistic pride and sovereignty.
Thus symbolic currency becomes important.
It costs little to suspend the “automatic renewal” clause in defense agreements. Israel’s own Foreign Minister admitted that the agreement had “no concrete content”. In contrast, trade and technology cooperation involves billions of euros and intense strategic coordination. While the Rome announcement made front-page news, Italian diplomats in Brussels made sure that nothing of economic importance was jeopardized.
The reality is that Europe’s dependence on Israeli defense technology, cyber-intelligence and AI systems runs deep and Italy is no exception. Italian industry giants Leonardo S.p.A. and Fincantieri maintain strong partnerships with Israeli companies such as Elbit Systems, with Leonardo producing components for the F-35 fighter jets heavily used in Gaza. Despite worker protests and petitions calling for a complete end to the relationship, these contracts continue unabated.
The contradictions extend to diplomacy. Italy has repeatedly abstained from or voted for UN General Assembly resolutions calling for a ceasefire, refused to support Palestine’s bid for UN membership in May 2024, and sided with Israel against the International Criminal Court, with Tajani dismissing ICC prosecutor Karim Khan’s request for arrest warrants for Netanyahu and his defense minister as “unacceptable”.
Yet after the International Court of Justice ruled in January 2024 that a potential risk of genocide existed in Gaza, Italy, as a signatory to the Genocide Convention, became legally obliged to take action to stop it. Continuing to supply weapons, munitions, explosives and components that facilitate Israel’s war effort is not only collusion but a violation of international law. Every missed vote, every silent license renewal, reinforces that violation.
So then, what is Meloni’s end game?
Sociologist Alessandro Orsini offers an apt metaphor. In her book Gaza Meloni: The Foreign Policy of a Satellite State, she describes Meloni’s behavior as “viper tactics”: “When the sun is bright, the viper enjoys the light on the exposed rock. When the cameras shine on her, she says she ‘feels sorry’ for the Palestinians.
It’s a cruel but accurate picture. Meloni’s humanitarian instincts come to the fore only when he bears no policy costs.
Part of this stems from Europe’s own collective guilt. The continent’s colonial and anti-Semitic history has created a moral cowardice when confronting Israel. The second part is pure pragmatism: energy interdependence, defense cooperation and intelligence sharing make Israel an indispensable partner for the EU project. European capitals, despite being horrified by the images of Gaza or Lebanon, are reluctant to jeopardize that alliance.
However, double standards are destructive, and this form of moral language that hides self-interest seems to reflect Europe itself. France condemns Netanyahu one week and sends war material the next. Germany cites historical responsibility to justify almost unconditional support. And Italy has allowed itself to become a little more of a follower of Trump and Netanyahu’s agenda.
Yet, as a country, we once played a unique role as a bridge between Europe and the Arab world, a role that combined pragmatism with empathy. That identity can still be saved. But doing so requires more than a formal suspension of defense agreements or carefully worded expressions of concern. It demands consistency, the courage to align foreign policy with professed values.
For Giorgia Meloni, that courage appears to be in short supply.
If Italy truly wants to lead as a sovereign nation, it must rediscover the moral clarity that Meloni once expressed as a young parliamentarian. The conviction that no cause is justifiable when it results in the shedding of innocent blood. Until then, Italy will remain a bridge that does not connect but collapses under the weight of its own hypocrisy.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial stance of Al Jazeera.
