Neo-fascism comes to picturesque small-town Italy

 

Men outside Caffè Europa in the Roman hill town of Rocca di Papa.

We've always enjoyed watching the men (it's always men) in local bars, sitting around, playing cards, talking. It seems very communal, a good place for these apparently retired Italians. We were consequently horrified to see the small town where the photo above was taken, our favorite small town in the Alban Hills outside of Rome, identified by the New York Times this past week as a hot bed of neo-Fascism.

We had become inured to the fact that Giorgia Meloni, head of the Fratelli d'Italia party ("Brothers of Italy"), would become prime minister. For months the polls had shown her leading, even if her party received only about one-quarter of the vote. She made a pact with some other devils, including Silvio Berlusconi and Matteo Salvini, on her way to the top post in Italy. Salvini was rewarded with the position of Deputy Prime Minister and - get this and don't choke - Minister of Infrastructure and Sustainable Mobility (no wonder Italian Facebook went nuts over this Brave-New-World-speak).

We've also been keenly aware of the posters and graffiti around Rome that even decades ago promoted neo-Fascism. We wrote about some of these in our posts on posters and right-wing "heroes." (See here and here.)

What appalled us (and we can hear all our Roman friends going, "DUH!") was that our charming, special, sweet town voted 38% for Meloni's party, knowing they were reviving Fascism.

Are those men above likely Fascists? The New York Times featured the bar across the way, Bar Centrale. But my guess is, yes, you're looking at the right-wing there playing cards.

We had noted in a 2014 post a building we thought likely had been Fascist headquarters until after World War II. It's got the bulky look of buildings of that era, it's now a municipal building, and the date is obvious:  "A.D. 1935." One of our loyal readers, Marco, questioned that interpretation, saying: 

"I find it unlikely that the building in the photo may have been once the Party's HQ - not only the style is not Fascist in appearance, but the Fascist Era (Anno XIII E.F.) mark is nowhere to be seen on the building's façade, as are any remnants of chipped-away fasces one'd expect to find on such buildings."

He makes some good points, and perhaps we were wrong about the past (if there were some other factors we had taken into account there, I don't recall them), but there's no question about the present for Rocca di Papa.

One reason we favor the town is that it's the starting point for one of our best hikes, up Monte Cavo. In fact the photo we took, right, of Monte Cavo from the town, was taken from the now infamous (to us) Bar Centrale.

It's not hard to find men hanging out outside the bars or in the very large square that dominates the lower part of the town. (See photo below.)

From now on, we will have to listen more carefully to their conversations, though maybe we won't like what we hear.

Caffè Europa  is dear to our hearts because it's not only where we've always started (coffee) our hikes, it's also where we've ended (beer) them, and parked our scooter. The photo below was taken with our 2nd of three scooters (historically, not all at once), the foregrounded Malaguti, while the guys play cards, per usual.

That the town is picturesque is an understatement, and it's beautifully sited below Monte Cavo (see photo at end of this post). Its "shield" features the "rocca" or fortress - on the fountain that graces the top of the large square in the photo below. And the "Papa" is for a 12th century Pope who lived there (Eugenio III).

Another view below is from the cemetery, and in the distance the ruins of ancient Tusculum, a Roman town. Everything in Rocca di Papa, including the cemetery (and that 1935 building above) is on a slant, given its position on the steeply sloping hillside.

More in a later post on Mussolini and the rise of neo-Fascism.

Dianne

The town of Rocca di Papa, seen from the main piazza. The first phase of the hike to Monte
Cavo is getting to the top of Rocca di Papa via picturesque city streets. The mountain itself is straight ahead but is not visible in the photo. 

Assholes: the Italian Connection

RST has been reading Aaron James's 2012 book, Assholes: A Theory (Boston: Nicholas Brealey).   Although the title has the sound of pulp fiction, James is to be taken seriously: Harvard Ph.D., teaches philosophy at U. Cal. Irvine, recipient of a grant from the American Council of Learned Societies, time at Stanford's Center for Advanced Studies in the Behavioral Sciences, and so on.
If you wonder whether James is really a philosopher, try the discussion in Chapter 4 on whether it's appropriate to blame an asshole.



An avid surfer, James got the idea for the book from observing "asshole" surfers who violate the long-
established surfing custom of deferring to another surfer who is in perfect position on a critical portion of a good wave.  The asshole is the guy (and assholes are mostly guys, though for James the term encompasses Ann Coulter) who "has decided that he should have almost any wave he wants"--and, when challenged for his violation of surfer etiquette, just gets angry and self-righteous. 



The surfer example illustrates James's more theoretical description of an asshole.  The asshole, he writes,

"1.  allows himself to enjoy special advantages and does so systematically
  2. does this out of an entrenched sense of entitlement; and
  3. is immunized by his sense of entitlement against the complaints of other people." 

More concretely, the asshole cuts in line, interrupts conversations often, drives as if he owns the road (and you don't), and regularly brings up the flaws of others.



OK, so you've thinking you've got the concept.  You wouldn't be an asshole to be wondering just what this has to do with Rome, or Italy.

Worse than an asshole

For one thing, James makes clear that Mussolini (or Hitler, or Stalin), though they might fit the definition, are not the people he's writing about.  "There are not enough harsh names for these figures, and it s fine to add 'asshole' to the list.  But it would be deeply offensive to only call Hitler or Stalin [or Mussolini] an asshole; there are much more important ways to describe them morally." 



For another, assholes are not evenly distributed across nations and culture.  According to James, some societies produce more assholes than others:  Brazil, Israel, the United States--and Italy.  Although James appears to offer little evidence for including Italy in the ranks of the cultures most likely to produce assholes, he argues that Italy has produced what he calls "asshole capitalism"--essentially a condition in which systems that would normally keep assholes in check have broken down.  (One could add that an American driver, in an automobile on Rome's streets for the first time, might conclude--erroneously--that all Italian drivers, and hence most Italians, are assholes.)



James may be on firmer ground in locating in Italy one of the turn-of-the-century's biggest assholes: Silvio Berlusconi, the "paradigmatic asshole of public life." 

Berlusconi: the "paradigmatic asshole of
public life," celebrating with another
asshole.

Here is James's argument:  "We for years heard lurid tales of parties and underage prostitutes; of embezzlement, fraud, and judges bribed; of laws passed to protect him from prosecution and promote his business ventures, usually followed by a Berlusconi charm offensive.  Berlusconi was not ashamed and clearly felt entitled to all of this, despite the fact that many Italian reviled him and felt deeply ashamed of the spectacle.  It is not that rationalizations are offered but they are flimsy ones; no attempt at rationalization is made.  That seems to be Berlusconi's point:  he pillages Italian public life for private gain, out in the open, not because it is right but because he can."



Although Berlusconi might claim that he is simply following in the grand tradition of "rule Italian style"--from Machiavelli to Mussolini--and hence only serves as Italy's latest "king," James disputes that reasoning.  "The trouble with the argument is that Italy is now a democracy, which itself makes Berlusconi not royalty but corrupt.  His royalty is at most the royalty enjoyed by assholes of a special royal kind."



In short, he's an asshole.
Bill

The Indignant Ones: Rome joins the Wall Street Protests

It was Thursday, October 13.  We had parked the scooter on the Quirinale hill and walked a couple of blocks to the Palazzo delle Esposizioni, one of Rome's great museums and the site of a major exhibition of Soviet art.  But when we came down the long stairs toward Via Nazionale, two large blue-and-white police vans, staffed by a dozen officers, signified something afoot, and when we turned the corner onto Via Nazionale, we found the steps of the museum crowded with tents and dozens of young people, talking and making banners--maybe planning a revolution.  The museum was closed, for "security reasons," and not scheduled to reopen until Sunday. 

We had stumbled upon the protests of the "indignati"--the indignant ones--modeled after the "indignados" of Madrid and, in the United States, the Wall Street protesters.  Here in Rome, their target was the Bankitalia (the Bank of Italy), located just down the street from the museum.  Apparently the first tents were in front of the Bank, spilling into the street and seriously disrupting the traffic--and the bus routes--on one of the city's busiest thoroughfares.  A "braccio di ferro" with the police--literally "arm of iron" but translatable as a "trial of strength"--moved the tents off the street and onto the steps of the museum.

"Gli indignati" also call themselves the "Dragi rebelli"--Dragi rebels.  Dragi refers to Mario Dragi, departing president of the Bank of Italy and the next head of the European central bank.  Conveniently, Dragi also means "dragons," so the Rome movement has a convenient symbol--the dragon.  Dragi is an advocate of immediate and severe budget cuts, beyond those generally suggested.  Like right-wingers in the United States, he claims these actions will restore growth and benefit Italy's legions of young unemployed.  But the "indignati" aren't buying Dragi's line or his stature as head of Italy's biggest bank.  They jokingly refer to Bankitalia as "Banca d'Itaglia" (pronounced similarly, but meaning "Bank of the Cuts").  In the lingo of the rebels, another large bank, Banca Intesa, becomes Banca Intrusa (intrusive) and Unicredit becomes Unidebit--not too hard to figure out, even if you don't know Italian.  Thus far it's been a good-humored movement: lots of singing and dancing. 

On the steps at the University of Rome (La
Sapienza): Continue the encampment in Via Nazionale
after the forced removal of last night!  Today at
4 p.m. everyone to Via Nazionale.  The protest
continues.  October 15 has already begun!  Rise Up.

Although centered on the young, the movement is diverse; it includes environmentalists, university research assistants, various youth associations, some union people, many undergraduates, and thousands of people brought together spontaneously through Facebook and Twitter.  They oppose the privatization of the water systems; defend the public schools and the universities from budget cuts; and want the banks--and not citizens--held responsible if the state fails to make its payments.  They oppose Dragi's austerity measures.  They know the Berlusconi government is troubled and fragile, and they hope their mobilization will prove powerful enough to bring it down. 

Another part of the movement, seemingly separate but contributing to the state's anxieties about public order, is an anti-government group centered around Gaetano Ferrieri, a 54 year old Venetian who has been fasting for 131 days (and lost 20 kilos).  Ferrieri has presented the government with 3 petitions, calling for the elimination of government waste and bureaucracy (and excessive stipends for managers) and for reform of the Italian election laws.  But so far he's been ignored by the authorities.

Seen at Montecitorio, the Italian "house." 
I love Italy.  I am with Gaetano Ferrieri. 

Like the Dragi Rebelli, Ferrieri's legions have taken to the streets, blocking traffic on Via del Corso while singing "Fratelli d'Italia."  Although Ferrieri's hunger strike began long before protests on Wall Street set things moving worldwide, Gaetano shares the basic concerns of the Dragi rebels.  "I giovani oggi," he says, "non hanno futuro, non hanno prospettive.  Non siamo rassegnati, siamo indignati."  Today's youth have no future, no prospects.  We are not resigned, we are indignant.

Saturday, October 15 is a big day for the movement.  A poster for the event employs the slogan, "Yes we camp"--in English--a combination of  the Palazzo tents and "yes we can."  The rebels hope to have 150,000 people in the streets--in "piazza" as they say--culminating at Piazza San Giovanni in Laterano.   But they also insist that the movement will go on, that the occupation will continue.  "Portate una tenda," they say: bring a tent. 

Bill

Berlusconi and "The Bachelor"

We're big fans of ABC's long-running hit reality show, "The Bachelor"--since, that is, our son Bennett Graebner began sculpting the program's story lines as Supervising Story Producer. And so we were intrigued, pleased, amused, and shocked when Columbia University journalism professor Alexander Stille, writing in the The New York Review of Books, figured out that Silvio Berlusconi's bizarre performance in office was straight out of reality TV, and specifically, "The Bachelor."

"Berlusconi," writes Stille, "has transformed the political life of a major nation into a kind of reality TV show in which he is star, producer, and network owner: he is the ultimate "Survivor," who will lie and cheat to kick others off the island as well as 'The Bachelor,' distributing roses to a group of beautiful young women."


Well, we've heard he distributes more than roses, but that aside, we wondered if Mike Fleiss and the folks who produce and cast the show would consider
the Italian premier as their next Bachelor.
Silvio could be the first married Bachelor, or wait until the divorce proceedings initiated by his wife had run their course. By that time Vienna Girardi might be available. We think he'd find her irresistible.

Bill

Sorry for this Lousy Post

We’ve been entertained this week by Governor Mark Sanford of South Carolina, a married man and a Republican, who got caught visiting his Argentine mistress while he was supposed to be hiking the Appalachian trail, while he was supposed to be governing the state. Then it came out that this wasn’t the first visit, that Mr. Sanford had managed a rendezvous last summer, while he was on a taxpayer-financed trade mission (that he set up). So he apologized. “I made a mistake while I was there,” he said, “in meeting with the woman who I was unfaithful to my wife with.” Well there’s another mistake—ending a sentence with a preposition—that one forgiveable, given the stress that comes with public knowledge of one’s private passions and indiscretions.

Since the revelations, Mr. Sanford has apologized to just about everyone: his wife, his staff (“I wanted generally to apologize to every one of you all, for letting you down”), two cabinet secretaries, the head of the State Law Enforcement Division, the people of South Carolina, his housekeeper. If, as the New York Times suggested, “Mr. Sanford’s many apologies did not seem to put the scandal behind him,” it may be partly because of the way he apologized, as in “I apologize,” rather than “I’m sorry,” the latter a form of the apology that he never, apparently, used, and one, we think, that suggests deeper regret, that carries with it the flavor of authenticity.

Still, Mr. Sanford’s apologies, however inadequately put, stand in stark contrast to the bombastic bluster of Italian Premier Silvio Berlusconi who--despite evidence that he hosted wild parties with naked women, brought in so many hot babes from Puglia he can’t remember them all (and slept with at least one), and has been cavorting around with a minor (or minors)--has failed to issue any sort of apology, to his wife or anyone else, preferring the “boys will be boys” defense.

We thought Stefano Bartezzaghi was on the mark when he opened a recent story in La Repubblica with the line “Italy means never having to say you’re sorry.” For evidence, Bartezzaghi offers the Fonz of Happy Days fame, whose last name is, of course, Fonzarelli; maybe the young man Silvio was watching. After playing soccer for 25 years with Italians, I have a similar impression: they just don't have it in them to acknowledge a mistake.

But there is better evidence, and it comes by way of the Catholic Church. Those lovely, wood-carved confession booths are nearly empty. Nobody confesses anymore. Of practicing Italian Catholics, 58% go to confession once a year, and 30% don’t engage in the ritual, ever. To say nothing of the 80% of those Italians who are not practicing Catholics. Almost nobody says they’re sorry.

What’s best: to apologize too much, and in the wrong circumstances, or not at all? In the aftermath of the recent elections to the European parliament, British Prime Minister Gordon Brown used the Mark Sanford approach, apologizing profusely for letting his party down. But as sorry as he said he felt, he didn’t resign (or even suggest any reasonable future path for his Labor Party) and neither did Mr. Sanford, who seems to believe that his apologies set the stage for absolution.

Mr. Sanford's wife is not so sure. And in our view, apology does nothing to resolve the contradiction that Mr. Sanford and so many other Republicans present: public piety, private immorality—to wit, hypocrisy. The Italian way—less hypocritical, to be sure, but rather mean-spirited and unattractive—doesn’t seem any better. Perhaps there’s another approach, one we haven’t thought of (oops! sorry for that preposition). Bill