Cosa Nostra Read Online Free PDF Page B

deliberately ended by men of honour. For eliminating women and children is only deemed dishonourable if it is unnecessary; it can become necessary when a mafioso’s survival is at stake; and simply by being a member of Cosa Nostra, a mafioso often puts his life in danger.
    Like nearly all mafia killings, the murder of Giuseppe Di Matteo was committed after it was collectively decided that it was necessary. The boy’s death was part of a strategy adopted by some of Cosa Nostra’s leaders vis-à-vis the families of mafia defectors who were putting the whole organization at risk. Once such a decision became policy, it would have been considered dishonourable not to put it into effect.
    Which is where obedience comes in. The mafioso who actually implemented that policy and strangled Giuseppe Di Matteo on Brusca’s orders later explained his thinking to a court:
    If someone wants to have a good career [in Cosa Nostra] he must always be available … I wanted a career, and I’d accepted this from the outset because I was walking on air. At that time I was a soldier in Cosa Nostra, I obeyed orders, and I knew that by strangling a little boy I would make a career for myself. I was walking on air.
    Honour accumulates through obedience: in return for what they call ‘availability’, individual mafiosi can increase their stock of honour and in doing so gain access to more money, information, and power. Belonging to Cosa Nostra offers the same advantages as does belonging to other organizations, including the achievement of aspirations, an exhilarating sense of status and comradeship, and the chance to pass responsibility, moral or otherwise, upwards in the direction of their bosses. All of these things are ingredients of mafia honour.
    Honour also involves the obligation to tell the truth to other men of honour and, therefore, the notoriously elliptical way in which mafiosi talk. Giovanni Brusca relates that, when he visited American mafiosi in New Jersey, he was appalled by how talkative his hosts were by comparison. A dinner was held to welcome him, yet on entering the restaurant Brusca was astonished to see that the mafiosi had all brought their mistresses, and that they chatted openly about which Families various mobsters belonged to. ‘In Sicily, none of us would dream of talking that way in public. Or even in private. Everyone knows what needs to be known.’ Brusca claims he was so embarrassed that he made his excuses and left. ‘It’s a different mentality,’ he concluded about his American experience. ‘They live out in the light of day. They only commit murders in exceptional circumstances. They never carry out massacres like we have in Sicily.’
    The mafioso’s duty to tell the truth is partly a way of promoting the kind of mutual trust that is in short supply among outlaws. This need for trust also explains the components of mafia honour that relate to sex and marriage. Newly ‘made’ mobsters swear not to take income from prostitution, and if they sleep with another mafioso’s wife they face a death sentence. Moreover, if a mafioso gambles, womanizes, and parades his wealth, he is likely to be considered unreliable and therefore expendable. Keeping to these rules is an important way of showing your fellow men of honour that you can be trusted. For the same reason, the mafia’s top management makes a virtue of getting its hands dirty, and old-school patriarchal machismo is crucial to the company culture. For example, there are work social events that usually revolve around manly pursuits like hunting parties and banquets.
    Honour is also about loyalty. Membership of what mafiosi used to call the ‘honoured society’ brings new loyalties that are more important than blood ties. Honour implies that a mafioso must put Cosa Nostra’s interests above those of his kin. Enzo Brusca, brother of ‘lo scannacristiani’, worked for the organization, took part in killings, but was never made into a man of honour.