« Ther mafia is an invention of the communists » -
Marcello Dell’Utri, senior advisor to Sergio Berlusconi. From Wikipedia: “Formerly
a member of the Italian Parliament from 1996 to 2013 and of
the European Parliament from 1999 to 2004,
Dell'Utri was found guilty of tax fraud, false
accounting, and complicity in conspiracy with
the Sicilian Mafia, also known as Cosa Nostra; the
conviction for the last charge was upheld on 9 May 2014 by the Supreme Court of Cassation, the
highest judicial court in Italy, which sentenced Dell'Utri to seven years
in prison.”
Going to an Italy ruled by the fascist party seems timely.
The last time I was in Rome (oh, I think I am so cooool to write “the last time
I was in Rome”, like I’m a cosmopolitan diva) was in the buttend of the
Berlusconi era, 2011. At that time, the air of neglect was over everything. I
was shocked – Paris, whatever its vices, has been a well governed city in terms
of the basics. Berlusconi’s associates notoriously pocketed public money, and
the far right schtick, then as now, was to “cut” government entitlements –
which is another term for rerouted state money to the wealthiest.
Berlusconi deserves a look now, especially, since the form
of far-right policies and far-reaching corruption seems to have glommed onto
Uncle Sam like some horrible poisonous squid. Berlusconi’s money, which
channeled Mafia money, was the result of plummy real estate deals, sports and
entertainment. Media – tv being freed from State constraint, which had forced a
sad population to watch Soviet art cinema before, now could show an abundance
of tits. But this turned out not to be the utopia that the wankers had been
looking forward to, as the financial system in the EU imploded.
Italy was a lab for cold war malfeasance and neo-lib
corruption after the fall of the Wall. Italy is our Id – and where the Id goes,
the US follows.
Rome, it must be said, is full of projects. Our friends said
the Catholic church had ponied up for some road repair. The shops and
restaurants seemed to be booming. Neglect had been left behind, or at least a
bit behind. Two weeks before we came to Rome, on the street where we were
staying, a landslide had tossed a dozen apartment buildings in the street.
Same as it ever was, I suppose you could say. The residences
in this part of Trastevere are, by the look of them, the products of the seventies
and eighties – a time when cutting corners and constructing in areas that have
been approved of by thoroughly bribed officials was the rule. Corruption haunts
the homeowner, even if he has long forgotten his unfortunate coup de coeur for
this or that fascist politico.
For our jaunt – five days – I took along Simonetta Greggio’s
book Les Nouveaux monstres, which is the successor of Dolce Vita – both of
them novels that combine telenovela plots (aristocratic decadents, mysterious
priests) with an encyclopedia of Italian scandals. What better way to learn
history than to peak at it between orgies and the impossibly beautiful romances
of impossibly beautiful heiresses? Greggio was born in Padua, but writes in
French. I am surprised that no enterprising editor has not had her books
translated – this is beach lit with footnotes, and I’m here to say: what better
thing to read on a train or airplane?
The New Monsters takes the story out of the heady years of
lead into the dissolution of the Communist party and the triumph of
anti-communism – which is, and was always going to be, the triumph of the most
anti-communist, ie the fascists and the ultra-right. The Italian part of that
history is a gaudy preview of coming attractions.
But I am not one who thinks the preview means that the
coming attractions will actually arrive. I’m more optimistic than that. Rome,
with its weather, food, and ordinary life, made me feel renewed. En avant!
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