Reflections of a stormy petrel

Ever since the shameful collapse of the last Prodi government, in which I had originally invested some hopes, I have taken the view that the best thing that I as a free man can do in the current Italian political situation is to refuse to vote. Voting for Berlusconi was out of the question, and after the Italian left had proved both utterly incapable of getting anything done and sold body and soul - including their "Catholic" figleaves - to the poison of PC, I could not but regard the choice as demeaning. However, the degeneracy of the Berlusconi forces is now so advanced, so shameless, and so terribly damaging in the middle of the world crisis, that I feel forced to admit that anything short of Mussolini or Stalin would be an improvement. But then I am also compelled to remember that there are a few things - abortion, marriage, the death penalty, euthanasia - on which I will not compromise, since I like to be able to look in the mirror in the morning without throwing up; and that, while the death penalty is luckily not an issue in Italy, the left are not only the champions of abortion and "gay marriage", but have made a particular battleground out of euthanasia and actually had a few people killed to score political points. I cannot and will not vote for this, especially, I would underline, the so-called "Catholic" judases kept in exactly to encourage people like me to vote against their consciences. And then there is the the third pole - a centrist, supposedly Catholic party opposing both left and right. You would think that would sound all right, except it is not. First, this party is made out of survivors and nostalgic of the old Christian Democrats, who were a failure and whom most Italians would not like to see back. Second, and typical of why I distrust them, they have been publicly hostile to people who "wantonly rock the boat" on abortion, and it seems they are quite happy with the current status quo on abortion, IVF, euthanasia and so on. Third, in order to become a majority force, they are apparently quite ready to make a deal with Fini's splinter party, which is as progressivist as they come. Some choice. But while I contemplate the political choice with horror, Berlusconi's men are using parliamentary immunity to protect villains among them from the judiciary, and Berlusconi himself is stuffing government, parliament and state legislatures with pretty 20/30 year old ladies who distinguished themselves by nothing except willingness to please in bed. Povera Italia

I don't like Berlusconi. ( Read more... )

Quite apart from the appalling mutual hatred that has poisoned the air for years, and in which at this point it is useless to blame the original culprits - since the whole political spectrum has thrown itself in it with a will - there is the quite extraordinary self-importance, vanity, lack of sense of proportion, and preference for empty and useless show initiatives. For instance, a few months ago, nearly a dozen Italian cities offered to hold the Olympic Games. Now, it is quite clear that only cities of several million inhabitants and/or national capitals will be considered by the International Olympic Committee (Barcelona a couple of decades ago was an exception, but then the head of the IOC at the time happened to be from Catalunya). With the possible exception of the capital, there is not one city in Italy of anything like the necessary size - which is all the better for us; we don't need Mexico City-sized blots on our all too crowded landscape. And Rome itself has repeatedly failed, while Milan, our second city, has been informed that, for all their prestige and prosperity, they stand no chance. But this did not prevent ridiculously unsuitable municipalities such as Venice, Bari and Palermo from putting themselves forwards. The only reason why the whole world did not start laughing at us loud and long is that foreign journalists do not report from Italy. And now here is something even worse: the city of Rome seriously proposes to host a Formula One race, not even on a new circuit, but on city streets in the modern EUR quarter! Forget for a minute that we have a legendary circuit in Monza which is in need of improvement but still popular with racers and fans. Forget that if we needed a second circuit in Italy, there is the beloved and neglected Imola one, the spiritual home of Ferrari, in dire need of restoration but with a history second to few. Forget all that, I say, and just ask this: my family live in Rome. The city is overcrowded, thick with problems of every sort, in constant need of attention. Who the bloody Hell, I ask, who in the name of everything that's insane, needs this obstruction on public roads, making a frightful noise, interfering with public life (several government authorities and offices are located in EUR), costing a fortune, and achieving very little for the price? And in the name of God and Jesus Christ, does the city of Rome - Rome, I tell you - require any kind of advertising fillip, when every feature of the history of the West points you back to her, and Chinese tourists with no English crowd her roads? And I am certain - heck, I have lived in Rome long enough, and my family are all from there - that the citizenship positively does not want such a thing there. I am willing to stake my head on the certainty that nine citizens of Rome out of ten will react to this piece of news with anything from indignation to horror to disgust. For what damned reason, then, has Mayor Alemanno - a right-wing outsider elected on a reform and "clear out the bums" ticket - given this useless piece of extravagance a second thought? For what reason, indeed, other than if he ever were a reformer he has now evidently gone native, and cares more for extravagant prestige projects calling the attention of the rich and useless of this world to his person, than for doing his duty by those who elected him.

Nothing since the treacherous behaviour of our government at the time of the Falklands War has made me so ashamed of being Italian as the appalling hero's welcome delivered to Hugo Chavez in the most beautiful city in the world. He should have been arrested and thrown in the local jail.

I have refused to vote in the Italian elections, holding that none of the candidates on offer were worthy of even reluctant consent by a free man. Or by anybody free to choose. To have to choose between supporting Veltroni, Berlusconi or the lesser lists is a choice that demeans a human being, and I will not make it. Until the Italian political system finally presents a candidate that does not make you want to turn your eyes in revulsion, I will stay home.

But even admitting that the others were bad, the Bossi-Fini-Berlusconi coalition is genuinely the bottom. Its leadership is so crass that it is genuinely difficult to explain to the rest of civilized mankind just how unimaginable it is that some of them had ever been allowed anywhere near power by an electorate that was free to choose.

Fini, the ex-Fascist, is the least intolerable of the three - and also the one who matters least. There is nothing to worry about in him: in his rush to shed all suspicions of Fascism or nationalism, he has morphed into the most predictable, shallow, and featureless middle-of-the-road PC politician, managing even a dumb little sex scandal that cost him a quite attractive wife. The trouble is that in seeking the consensual centre, he has taken several positions - in particular over embryo experimentation - that offend Catholics, and one of the lessons of the last two years is that you cannot govern Italy without Catholic support. What is more, his own party (now merged in Berlusconi's alliance) is made of people who, while they could see the sense of dumping Fascism as such, had a lot more respect for nationalism and old-fashioned values than he has. So he has lost support on two different grounds: the politically disastrous choice of challenging the Church, and the disaffection of a highly conservative and nationalistic base. What saves him is that there is nobody of any stature in the party to challenge him: the strongest figures are currently under investigation for very serious scandals - the kind of appropriation of public money that the old Fascist base were proud of not practicing in the days of the First Republic. So Fini stands because possible rivals are even less credible.

Bossi, the head of the Northern League, is not easy to explain to anyone who has no direct knowledge of the multiple train wreck that passes for Italian politics. Ignorant as a street thug, incapable of manners of any kind, he is the living embodyment of the worst kind of pub-philosopher, taxi-driver-hair-dresser political maunderer, of the kind of person whose attempts at an opinion you hear out in embarrassed silence. He relies on a base like himself, with no principles or religion (in a party that has to appeal to Catholics, he is an avowed pagan), who dropped out of school at fourteen to earn money and never learned anything else in their lives. Worst of all, he is a man who continuously uses the threat of violence without having the nerve to use it. To give an example of his incendiary rhetoric - one that did not reach the foreign press, because by now they discount him - was that if a certain kind of confusing electoral paper, which he supposed would work against him, was not changed, "we will take up our rifles". Governments of both sides have been subjected to this kind of repeated threat of violence for years. They, too, have learned to discount him. During the first Prodi government, ten years or so ago, he actually pretended to start a march for independence of the North from Rome. If this had been taken seriously, there was more than enough to suppress his party, chuck him in jail for high treason and assault upon the Constitution (both life-without-parole charges) and risk a civil war. Prodi, however, was coolly cynical. He let them have their fun. At the end of it, not a single state functionary had been turned out, the army, police and carabinieri were where they had always been, the Leghisti had had a lot of fun, nothing had changed, and nobody had been arrested. However, this constant talk of violence does have an effect - at the lowest level, where nobody notices. IN the last fifteen years, assaults upon Romans and southerners, and more recently upon immigrants, have become so frequent and vicious that the government has had to change the number-plates of cars to a system that does not show local origin. You cannot pour hatred into a country, build your power exclusively upon the most ignorant and vicious hatred, encourage your supporters in their ignorance and hatred, and not worsen conditions in the long run. Bossi is the scum of the Earth. I hate him particularly because, being myself half northern and half Roman/southern, he wants to take my country from me. But even if had no dog in this fight, I could still not begin to treat him as a decent human being without losing all my self-respect.

And Berlusconi... ahh, Berlusconi. How shall I explain our once and future Prime Minister to anyone who does not know that such thing can be? Firstly, by telling you that Berlusconi is nothing like what you would fear from a man in his position. He is not Citizen Kane. A foreigner thinking of a business tycoon, the richest man in the country, in control of most of the local television network and large financial and industrial holdings, and at the same time at the head of the country's largest party, would fear a direct assault on the freedom of thought and self-expression, the party use of television and other resources, the exclusion of other viewpoints. And Berlusconi has indeed sporadically made use of his resources. But the truth is that he is not coherent enough to develop a policy even within his own family business (his companies are tightly controlled, in the usual Italian fashion, by members of his own family). Being chiefly, indeed purely, a salesman, he shows whatever will sell. This has, in general, cheapened Italian TV - which, God knows, never was any great shakes - but the dreaded use of the jackboot to control popular culture has not come about. Apart from pathetically obvious and therefore easily resisted interventions in the news programs, there is not even the beginning of a coherent cultural policy in his enormous TV empire: unless showing as much female flesh as legally possible in prime-time shows amounts to a policy. There certainly is nothing conservative or Catholic, although these ought to be the support areas for his party.

Berlusconi, I said, is a salesman. To be precise (I have been a salesman myself), he is a snake-oil salesman. You can see it in his face - no man ever had a face that showed more plainly his character - in his vacuous grin, in his inevitable vulgarianhood, in his dyed hair and hair replacements. He will say anything that will please anyone. One or two fanciful statements have come close to dooming Hillary Clinton's formidable and disciplined campaign; but Berlusconi commits Hillary-isms every day of the week, and nobody seems to mind. We are used to it. Take the Alitalia situation. I posted about it (http://fpb.livejournal.com/290951.html), though I did not detail Berlusconi's part in it. Berlusconi is at least businessman enough to know that he would never invest in a company as wretched as Alitalia, and that, if he ever had to manage one, sackings and cutbacks would be the order of the day. However, in spite of being a businesman, he has been shamefully encouraging the craziest hopes of Alitalia and of the Milan airport Malpensa - which sees itself as an intercontinental "hub" airport, although there is not enough traffic in Italy for it. He has even said that he had arranged a goup of Italian investors to take over the company on better terms than Air France/KLM offered. His associates floated the names of a number of big businessmen. The very next day, every single one of these businessmen indignantly denied having been part of any such thing. Would this sort of crap not have sunk any candidacy, to so much as dog catcher, in any civilized country? And yet Berlusconi sails serenely on. Such trash is daily bread for him, and nobody ever presents the bill.

The truth is that Berlusconi has a servile soul. If you saw him on TV and were asked what kind of profession you would expect him to be in, the answer would be obvious: a waiter. And not a top-notch waiter in a really top-notch restaurant, but an ordinary waiter in a mediocre back street eatery. Even his climb to power has been, until 1992, a servile thing: he became the top TV magnate essentially in the service of another corrupt Milanese politician, Bettino Craxi - whose fantastic appropriations and arrogance eventually brought about the scandals that broke the First Republic. He was Craxi's friend, and oh so proud of the privilege. The little bully following the big bully. And when he eventually set up in politics on his own, it was mainly as Craxi's avenger, taking vengeance on all those who had destroyed his Big Friend - politicians, judges, journalists. He has never had a coherent policy in his life beyond cutting back the judiciary (which, admittedly, is an increasingly necessary job). And after fifteen years in politics, he is still the same snake-oil salesman. Snake-oil selling is suited for his servile soul - for a soul that wants to see people cheaply satisfied, cheaply pleased.

If this is the choice, you may ask, why on Earth vote for them? Because the other lot, as a whole, are worse, and have proved it. But I am tired and depressed and don't want to go on. Maybe in a day or two I will post on what passes for left-wing politics in Italy.

Former Senator Severino Citaristi has just died in his home town of Bergamo, northern Italy, aged 85. He was very little known outside Italy, and, until 1992, even in his own country; but his passing has been met with unanimous grief from politicians and journalists, for he was personally beloved even by political opponents.

He entered politics, as many did, via the partisan war against Nazi invaders, and became a deputy in the first republican parliament in 1946. From then on, he was never out of Parliament, first as deputy, then as senator, but never prominent either. He was one of those industrious persons who keep the wheels of any organization turning while more rumbustious personalities play at being leader, and his honesty and competence were undoubted. It was because of these qualities that he was to gain the all-comers' record for criminal charges and final guilty sentences of any Italian politician in history - and that is saying something.

Even a corrupt system needs an honest person to manage it. At some point in the seventies or eighties, I forget when, Senator Citaristi was made the treasurer of his party, the majority Christian Democrats, and as such he was in charge of receiving, managing and distributing the enormous flow of corrupt donations and bribes that constantly flowed in from most economically active subjects in Italy - which he did in his usual hard-working, personally honest, and efficient manner. In 1992, the lid finally blew off - the situation, thanks in particular to the rampant greed of Bettino Craxi's Socialists, had become unsupportable, and one entrepreneur after another started giving evidence to a bunch of young, ambitious and angry investigating magistrates in Milan. Poor Citaristi, already an old man, not in the best of health, and looking forward to retirement, found himself in the thick of it, and collected the astounding total of seventy separate criminal proceedings, many of them ending in convictions. Throughout it all, he maintained that he had not personally either taken a penny, or bribed anyone; and both magistrates and journalists seem to have believed him, for the Press always treated him with remarkable consideration, and all the dozens of guilty sentences in criminal trials ended up costing him no more than about a month total of house arrest. Unlike most other people involved, he never saw the inside of a cell from beginning to end, and when the storm had spent itself, he just went home to spend his last days in the peace and respect of a minor elder statesman. Except for a terrible tragedy when his daughter and grandson died in an airplane accident, his last days were quiet. But is it not strange that a man might live all his life at the centre of a corrupt, inefficient and damaging political system, and still keep his own reputation for honesty and morality? Looking at what the Italian State was in Citaristi's time, and what it has further degenerated into since, would you excuse his role? I really do not know.