Fascist Pigs: Technoscientific Organisms and the History of Fascism

The possibly humorous effects of the undertaking shouldn’t keep us from exploring what was actually at stake. To complement his vision of sperm fluxes fertilizing local ewes and cows, Bonadonna’s institute developed mobile artificial-insemination units that included “an artificial vagina, needle, forceps, a thermos, a microscope, sperm-physiologic dilution solutions, and disinfection material.”[116] Basic training courses were considered enough to prepare technical personnel to operate artificial-insemination centers. Although these centers would be located in the newly projected white settlements, the herds of native populations were also to go through “obligatory passage points.” Bonadonna didn’t hesitate to recommend the use of force if natives resisted the application of the technique. Combining Bonadonna’s words and the jargon of Science Studies, we can say that artificial-insemination centers worked as obligatory passage points for the performance of colonial relations. Determining which animals would be allowed to reproduce and which would be eliminated from a herd meant intervening at the core of indigenous life. As the above comments on the relations between the Herero and cattle or Sanusi and sheep made clear, colonial domination meant breaking the relations between natives and their animals. In terms likely to be familiar to present-day scholars of Science Studies, control of animal reproduction constituted an obligatory passage point translating questions of colonial power and political independence.[117]

Artificial insemination, whether done to supply newly established white settlers farms or to intervene in indigenous traditional herding practices, centralized animals for reproduction. The most valuable animals were kept under highly controlled hygienic and sanitary conditions, were fed well, and were under constant surveillance by experts.[118] To prevent sexual transmission of diseases, they were kept isolated and only their sperm was allowed to travel to the places in which it was needed. One could thus imagine, as Bonadonna and Maiocco did, that a few elite animals could have big effects over vast territorial areas. It was under such presuppositions that a large experimental Karakul sheep farm was projected for the Giggiga Plain in the Harar region (eastern Ethiopia) of Africa Orientale Italiana (Italian East Africa).[119]

By late 1939, the director of the agrarian office of Italian East Africa approved the building of a gigantic facility occupying at least 25,000 hectares (49,000 acres), destined first and foremost to launch Karakul farming on a grand scale in Italian East Africa. The brevity of Italian control of the area didn’t allow for its completion, but the project illuminates the significance of Karakul for Mussolini’s African empire. The largest expense was, not surprisingly, the acquisition of the first thirty pureblood Karakul rams and ewes, which cost about 250,000 lira (one fourth of the total expenses). Needless to say, the cost of land was not computed in the budget, since it was taken by the colonial administration as a result of the occupation of the territory. The climate and the altitude at Giggiga (1,600 meters above sea level), and the existence of underground water, were allegedly perfect for raising Karakul. The proximity to a railway line and the short distance to the cities of Harar and Dire Daua were also obvious advantages. But the choice of the place was decided first and foremost by the presence among indigenous herds of large numbers Somali sheep, a breed that had been shown to be suitable for crossing with Karakul by Maiocco’s experiments in Alexandria. Although local populations were reticent to sell their sheep to white buyers, and asked exorbitant prices, the project of the experimental farm trusted in the power of the colonial administration to impose lower prices. “National and colonial interests” justified such measures and the overtaking of land from the local economy.