Buzz
In 1973, a high-ranking politician bowed before a former mattress salesman from Tuscany; a decade later, the same salesman walked out of a Swiss prison without explanation. In 1980, Bolivia’s government was toppled, and 22 years after that, a laptop vanished in Rome. In 1977, an Italian publishing firm was rescued from financial ruin, and 13 years later, the financier behind the deal was found hanging from a London bridge.
What connects these bizarre events? They were all tied to a shadowy group called Propaganda Due (P2). While history is filled with conspiracy theories, many remain unproven or outright absurd. However, P2 was undeniably real—and so were the men who orchestrated it.
10. Michele Sindona
By 1979, Michele Sindona was in dire straits. Despite whispers of his Mafia connections and dubious activities, he had climbed to become Italy’s leading banker, even serving as a financial advisor to the Vatican. However, his ambition led him to overextend into the American market, where he paid excessively to acquire Franklin National Bank, which quickly crumbled amid allegations of financial misconduct and outright fraud. As law enforcement closed in, Sindona attempted to delay the inevitable by faking his own abduction. When that failed, he turned hostile. The liquidator overseeing his Italian enterprises was assassinated, and Sindona began threatening to expose others unless the Italian government intervened. His efforts were futile. In 1986, six years into his prison term, he was mysteriously poisoned.
The investigation into Sindona eventually led authorities to Joseph Crimi, a Sicilian doctor who had aided in his fabricated kidnapping. Police were especially intrigued by a sudden trip Crimi took to Tuscany to meet with an obscure businessman named Licio Gelli. In 1981, they secured a warrant to search Gelli’s villa, expecting to uncover ties to Sindona. Instead, they uncovered something far more significant.
Inside a secured safe, investigators discovered documents belonging to a secretive Masonic lodge called Propaganda Due. Its membership roster included three government ministers, the son of Italy’s last monarch, and 43 parliament members. Additionally, it comprised the heads of all three Italian intelligence agencies, 213 high-ranking military officers, and numerous influential figures in media and business. It was, in essence, a “shadow state.” And at its helm was Licio Gelli.
9. Licio Gelli
The origins of Licio Gelli’s rise to power remain shrouded in mystery, as do the specifics of how he wielded it. From a young age, he was a staunch anti-Communist—at just 17, he joined Franco’s fascist forces during the Spanish Civil War. In World War II, he acted as a liaison for the German SS, earning notoriety for his brutal treatment of partisan captives. Post-war, he may have played a role in establishing the “ratlines” that enabled wanted Nazis to flee Europe. Yet Gelli’s story is far from straightforward. After being captured by the Allies, he was spared execution by a Communist partisan leader, who insisted Gelli had secretly been aiding the resistance all along.
In the 1950s, Gelli dabbled in politics but eventually lost interest, returning to his hometown in Tuscany. There, he built a modest career as a mattress salesman before founding his own clothing factory. Behind the scenes, however, Gelli was ascending the ranks of Italian Freemasonry. By 1967, he secured approval to establish his own lodge: the P2.
With the help of his deputy, Umberto Ortolani, Gelli cultivated relationships with high-ranking officials in Italian intelligence, gaining access to their confidential files on prominent citizens. This treasure trove of information became a tool for blackmail, and Gelli thrived on the influence it afforded him. Socialist Party politician Vanni Nistico claimed that Gelli once displayed compromising photos of Pope John Paul II, taken near his swimming pool, and ominously remarked, “Look at the vulnerabilities the secret services expose. If they can capture such images of the Pope, imagine how simple it would be to assassinate him.”
From its stronghold within the intelligence community, the P2 lodge swiftly extended its influence into politics, business, and media. Its allure was undeniable: members of P2 were bound by a pledge to support one another, and joining guaranteed access to wealth and power. Overshadowing everything was the menace of Gelli’s extensive files and the clout of his lodge. Once Gelli revealed the existence of P2, many of Italy’s elite felt they had no choice but to join. By the 1980s, Gelli’s authority was such that he could summon Italy’s highest military officials to his private villa for meetings.
By the time his lodge was uncovered, Gelli had arguably become Italy’s most influential figure. But what were his true motives? Was he, as he often asserted, driven by a mission to “halt Communism in its tracks” and rescue the Italian people from their own vulnerabilities? Or, as one P2 member later reflected, was he simply “a pragmatist devoid of ideals . . . in retrospect, I understood that he never sought a stable government. In a stable government, mediators like him would be rendered obsolete.”
8. Umberto Ortolani
However, P2’s operations extended far beyond Italy. Umberto Ortolani, Gelli’s right-hand man, established himself in Uruguay, where he served as an ambassador for the Knights of Malta and owned a leading local bank. From Uruguay, Gelli and Ortolani set up lodges across South America, a region ripe for arms dealing and money laundering. In Argentina, where Ortolani was a media mogul, P2 allegedly played a role in reinstating Juan Peron to power in 1973. At Peron’s inauguration, former Italian prime minister Giulio Andreotti claimed he “witnessed Peron kneel before Gelli.”
During World War II, Ortolani held a high-ranking position in Italian military intelligence and retained strong ties to the intelligence community. According to Canadian economist R.T. Naylor, his bank was instrumental in a P2 scheme to devalue the lira by promoting capital flight to South America, bypassing Italy’s currency regulations. When this failed to destabilize the government, the lodge shifted its focus to “building a shadow government where true authority would reside.”
There are also claims that Gelli and Ortolani collaborated with Klaus Barbie (pictured above), the notorious Nazi “Butcher of Lyon.” After fleeing Europe post-war, Barbie settled in Bolivia, where he became a prominent drug trafficker. He also had connections to Western intelligence agencies and reportedly took credit for orchestrating the military operation that led to Che Guevara’s capture. In 1980, Barbie and Italian right-wing extremist Stefano delle Chiaie were central figures in the “Cocaine Coup,” which temporarily toppled Bolivia’s government. Barbie was extradited to France in 1983 to face trial.
7. Francesco Pazienza
The reach of P2 even infiltrated American politics. During the 1980 election, the lodge attempted to deploy its typical underhanded tactics against Jimmy Carter, who was perceived as being too lenient on Communism. In 1985, a Wall Street Journal exposé revealed that the lodge was behind a major scandal that erupted during the campaign, likely part of a “broader disinformation scheme” designed to sway the election results.
Earlier in Carter’s presidency, his brother Billy (pictured above), often seen as a liability, stirred controversy by accepting a loan from Libyan dictator Muammar Gadhafi. Though the scandal had faded, P2 associate Francesco Pazienza ensured its revival. Collaborating with American journalist Michael Ledeen, Pazienza spread a story alleging that Billy Carter had accepted another loan from Gadhafi and held a secret meeting with Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat. “Billygate” resurfaced as a major news story, further damaging Carter’s already declining approval ratings.
An Italian court later convicted Pazienza for orchestrating the scandal. While Ledeen faced no charges, the court explicitly named him, and he was accused of receiving $120,000 from Italian military intelligence shortly after the story broke. Ledeen denied all allegations and eventually secured a position on Ronald Reagan’s National Security Council. Meanwhile, Licio Gelli, a relatively unknown Tuscan businessman, was extended an invitation to Reagan’s 1981 inauguration.
6. Stefano Delle Chiaie
One of the most contentious aspects of the P2 lodge was its suspected ties to right-wing terrorists during Italy’s turbulent “Years of Lead.” Among the most infamous figures was Stefano delle Chiaie, accused of participating in the 1969 Piazza Fontana bombing, the 1980 Bologna station bombing (pictured above), and a rumored plot to overthrow the government and install a dictatorship led by Prince Valerio Borghese. He was definitively linked to the massacre of left-wing protesters in Spain and is believed to have served as an assassin for Barbie during his time in South America.
The P2 is widely believed to have been involved in the Bologna bombing and is often connected to the Borghese coup plot as well. In 1985, Italian authorities formally charged Gelli with aiding delle Chiaie in planning the Bologna bombing, which claimed 85 lives and injured approximately 200. While neither man was convicted, Gelli and Francesco Pazienza were later found guilty of deliberately hindering the investigation into the attack. Gelli received a 10-year sentence, later reduced to seven on appeal. This marked a dramatic fall from grace for the once-powerful figure.
5. Roberto Calvi
On the surface, Roberto Calvi seemed an improbable member of a clandestine, illicit organization. Dubbed “the man with the eyes of ice,” he climbed from a humble clerk to lead the Banco Ambrosiano, one of Italy’s largest financial institutions. His close ties to the Vatican earned him another moniker: “God’s Banker.”
However, beneath his polished exterior, Calvi was a deeply anxious and insecure individual, constantly seeking influential allies for protection. His first mentor was Michele Sindona, who brought him into the P2 fold. Soon, Calvi became Gelli’s most valuable resource, providing a steady flow of funds for the P2 and its associates.
To be fair, Calvi’s need for a powerful protector wasn’t entirely unfounded—he genuinely required legal shielding. Despite his rise to the top of the bank, Calvi wasn’t personally wealthy. His obsessive secrecy and need for control prevented him from being a mere employee. For years, he funneled massive loans to overseas “shell companies,” secretly controlled by himself. The funds were then transferred to another shell company, still under his control, and brought back into Italy to purchase shares in the parent bank. In essence, Calvi used the bank’s own money to gain control of it, all while boosting profits and share prices.
The scheme was both ingeniously inventive and utterly reckless, as it relied entirely on a stable exchange rate. The shell companies operated in dollars, while Ambrosiano shares were traded in lira, meaning Calvi was borrowing dollars to purchase assets in lira. When the lira’s value dropped, the shell companies incurred massive losses. The only way Calvi could conceal these losses was by issuing even larger loans to the shell companies, creating a vicious cycle. Moreover, a significant portion of the funds sent to the shell companies didn’t return to Ambrosiano but simply disappeared. It’s believed that up to half of the money financed Vatican initiatives, such as Poland’s Solidarity trade union, or bailed out other P2 members. By 1982, $1.3 billion had been siphoned through the shell companies, leaving Calvi terrified.
4. The Rizzoli Family And Bruno Tassan Din
A prime example of P2’s operations was its takeover of the struggling Rizzoli publishing empire. Among the documents discovered in Gelli’s safe was one titled “the Plan for Democratic Revival,” which outlined the lodge’s strategy to infiltrate Italy’s three power centers: political parties, trade unions, and the media. To achieve the latter, Gelli targeted the Rizzoli group, which, despite heavy losses, controlled several newspapers and magazines, including Italy’s most popular and respected publication, the Corriere della Sera, whose offices are pictured above.
In 1977, the Banco Ambrosiano abruptly intervened to rescue the company from ruin. A more compliant editor was installed, and the Corriere began aligning with the P2 agenda. For instance, the paper suppressed a story about Ortolani’s bank funding Latin American death squads. To mark the takeover, Gelli, Ortolani, and Rizzoli director Bruno Tassan Din awarded themselves a $30 million commission from the deal. Meanwhile, Calvi was left to absorb the mounting losses, which grew as Gelli used the Rizzoli group to acquire newspapers nationwide. Gelli gained influence, but the Banco Ambrosiano’s financial woes deepened.
3. Silvio Berlusconi
The investigation into Calvi’s death faced significant obstacles. A prime suspect was fatally stabbed in his home, while another died in a car bomb explosion in Rome. Initially, the inquest ruled the banker’s death a suicide, but the case was reopened in 2002, and it was definitively proven to be murder. A Scotland Yard detective traveled to Rome to investigate, only to have his computer stolen and case files erased. In 2003, Carboni, Vittor, and three others were charged with the murder, but all were eventually acquitted.
It remains uncertain whether Calvi was murdered by mobsters furious over losses from Ambrosiano’s collapse or by former associates aiming to silence him. As his son aptly noted, Calvi “was a driven businessman but a poor judge of character.”
Other P2 members fared slightly better. Umberto Ortolani, Gelli’s right-hand man, initially evaded prosecution in South America but later returned to Italy, where he received a 12-year sentence for his role in the Rizzoli and Ambrosiano scandals. He was released early due to poor health and passed away in 2002. Francesco Pazienza fled to the Seychelles, where he orchestrated an oil trade scheme to bypass sanctions against South Africa. Gelli remained elusive, escaping a Swiss prison in 1983 by claiming all doors were left open for him. He evaded capture for several more years but eventually served time for obstructing the Bologna bombing investigation.
One P2 member who largely avoided repercussions was Silvio Berlusconi, a young businessman with political aspirations who later became prime minister. Berlusconi has never denied his P2 membership, and allegations suggest that the funds enabling his media empire’s launch originated from Ambrosiano. It has also been suggested that Berlusconi’s strategy of leveraging his media outlets to bolster his political career was partly inspired by Gelli’s “Plan for Democratic Revival.” Berlusconi, however, has consistently denied any business ties to Calvi. He recently finished a year of community service for tax fraud.
2. Flavio Carboni
Calvi soon began to crumble under immense pressure. Living in constant fear, he started carrying a gun everywhere. “Try to understand,” he confided to investigators, “Banco Ambrosiano isn’t mine. I’m merely serving someone else.” He hinted at cooperating with investigators but then retracted, likely terrified of his former allies. Seeking protection, he distanced himself from Pazienza and turned to Flavio Carboni, a shady Sardinian businessman known for his cocaine addiction and alleged Mafia ties. In April 1982, a senior Ambrosiano banker narrowly survived an assassination attempt, shot twice by a local mobster on his way to work. Funds for the hit were later linked to Calvi.
On June 10, Calvi fled Italy. His exact intentions remain unclear, though he assured his wife that his associates would salvage his company and reputation. Otherwise, he hinted, he might expose them. Carboni arranged for Calvi to be smuggled out of Italy by Silvano Vittor, a cigarette smuggler, while Rome’s underworld boss Ernesto Diotallevi provided a forged passport at short notice. Traveling through Austria, Calvi and Vittor reached London, where Carboni joined them. Calvi reportedly spent much of his time complaining about the low-quality hotel they stayed in.
On June 17, Calvi’s secretary allegedly committed suicide by jumping from her office window. Hours later, in the dead of night, Calvi told Carboni he was going for a walk. The next morning, he was found hanging from London’s Blackfriars Bridge. His pockets held £8,000 in cash and several bricks. His Patek Philippe watch had stopped precisely at 1:52 AM. God’s Banker was no more.
1. Paul Marcinkus
By May 1981, Calvi's empire started to unravel. The P2 lodge had previously thwarted probes into Ambrosiano, even leading to the arrest of the central bank's chief on fabricated charges. However, financial regulators were closing in, and the discovery of Gelli's safe marked the beginning of the end for the lodge. Shortly after the lodge's exposure, the prime minister stepped down, a former minister tried to end his life, and a top police official committed suicide. Gelli tried to justify his actions publicly but soon fled, realizing the inevitable.
In his fragile state, Calvi sought the help of Francesco Pazienza, offering him a substantial fee for political safeguarding. However, by July, Calvi was sentenced to four years for illegal currency transactions. He missed the court ruling due to recovery from a suspected self-harm incident, aimed possibly at disrupting the trial or a genuine cry for help. Simultaneously, the shadow firms were losing money rapidly, pushing Ambrosiano to the brink of failure.
Despite the turmoil, Calvi wasn't finished. He stayed out of jail awaiting his appeal, and surprisingly, Ambrosiano's stock value increased amidst the scandal, as investors believed Calvi's connections would protect him. Although the P2's power had waned, Calvi still had a formidable ally: the Vatican.
It was later revealed that a large portion of the illegally moved funds through the shadow firms was directed to the Institute for the Works of Religion (IOR), commonly referred to as the Vatican Bank, to aid the Church's global activities. Calvi had a close relationship with the IOR's head, Archbishop Paul Marcinkus. In September, Marcinkus provided Calvi with two letters suggesting the Vatican owned the shadow firms and would cover their debts, calming creditors and delaying the bank's downfall. However, Marcinkus insisted on a confidential third letter, releasing the Vatican from any obligations related to the shadow firms or their debts. As Calvi's condition worsened, Marcinkus declined further assistance, with a Vatican official warning Calvi's daughter to never mention the IOR, even in confession.
