Four years ago, young people from Palermo launched a website called Adio Pizzo to condemn illegal taxes imposed on Sicilian traders. Today, they have convinced almost 200 shopkeepers to break the silence and refuse to pay the ‘Pizzo' mafia tax. One of the scheme's organisers, Chloe Tucciarelli, and a local businessman, Riccardo Agnello, tell us about their fight against the Cosa Nostra.
Chloe Tucciarelli, one of the Addio Pizzo campaign's organisers
We launched the campaign in 2004 to put an end to the
silence. Everyone knows that shopkeepers are charged illegal taxes, but nobody
ever says anything. It always happens the same way. A mafia guy comes to a shop
and says he's collecting for a Christmas fund, or to help prisoners' families.
If the owner refuses to pay, the mafia comes back later and tries to intimidate
them. If they still refuse, then they might find their locks full of glue or
their tyres punctured. It can go on until the shopkeeper gets beaten into doing
what they tell him. The mafia now spares those who resist because they realised
it was counterproductive to kill them. They don't insist on too much money
either, if the traders can't pay. The amount varies a lot. A baker pays €100 to
€200 a month. It can be up to tens of thousand of euros for the big companies.
Today, almost 200 traders have publicly said that they're fighting the Pizzo. And for the moment we haven't been threatened by the mafia. I don't think they take us seriously yet. But some traders have had problems. One of them even had his company burnt down recently. We campaign in Sicily where we live. But it's a problem that affects all of South Italy. And even the South of France I think."
A fabric designer from Palermo, Riccardo Agnello was approached more than once by the Cosa Nostra. Each time, he refused to pay.
The first time they called me was about ten years
ago. It was my secretary who answered the phone. They threatened and insulted
her, saying that they were going to ‘put me in line'. That's the technique they
use. Generally, after this type of phone call, you look for someone who's got
links with the mafia to negotiate with them. But I went to see a judge I knew.
He wired my phone to record conversations, as well as some others. And that saw
Del Borgo, the Naples
ring-leader at that time, put in prison.
The second time it happened was in 2000. This time, they contacted an antique dealer friend of mine. They demanded that he and eight other antique dealers pay the pizzo. I went to the Palermo citizens' advice bureau. The adviser warned the police, who asked me to help them set up the gangsters. I left the money in a flower pot along an avenue, according to the mafia's phone instructions. The police arrested them. And I didn't have any more problems. People think that it's very dangerous not to pay the pizzo, but it's not. Most of the time, traders pay because they think it'll mean they get in with the gangsters. They pay because they have the same mentality and they think that it will help their business. ButI come from a family who's always refused to pay."
The address of this business fell under the territory of mafia boss Salvatore Lo Piccolo, one of Bernardo Provenzano's successors. The company owner, who now has a new address, always refused to pay the pizzo. The fire caused an outcry in the local population.
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