FRANCO FERRAROm
Letter from Italy
It
is important to grasp the permanent undercurrent of a society's mean–
ingless details. Italians live by magic.
A
doctor in Modena, for instance, is
convinced he can beat cancer with a cocktail of his own invention-a
potion, easy to take, apparently infallible. Italians rave about it. They have
taken to the "piazza" against the Health Ministry that wants to check it.
And judges have gotten into the act. They have ordered that the mysteri–
ous cocktail be given to whoever wants it: the terminally ill should receive
it free of charge. Unfortunately, nobody knows what the effects of the
potion are going to be, whether it can actually cure cancer and, eventual–
ly, which of the many different forms of cancer. This seems to be of lesser
importance. In the meantime, in Rome, in front of the Palazzo Chigi, the
headquarters of the national government, a huge demonstration has taken
place in favor of the cocktail. Nobody is concerned with establishing its
therapeutic value, if any. We are back to the Middle Ages (had we ever left
them?) when people organized religious processions against cholera.
Obviously, the present-day situation is different. Yet, Italian culture
and most of its reputable representatives go to extremes rather than square–
ly face a given issue. A sober exploration of the actual situation is
considered too prosaic. Everybody claims that the first Republic is dead,
but the second one is nowhere in sight. Can a revolution be effected by
magistrates, the most conservative technicians of existing norms who want
to maintain the status quo indefinately? This is considered a trivial ques–
tion. The current Italian situation may be the clearest evidence that
Nietzsche was right after all: a revolution is the biggest emotion a nation
can offer itself. In the case of Italy one should add: it also is the biggest the–
atrical performance.
In France, youth unemployment turns to tragedy. Why not in Italy?
The answer is simple: because in Italy the family acts as a secret shock
absorber. Throughout southern Italy, in particular, the family acts as a safe–
ty net. The unemployed young man can stay at home with "mamma" and
have his meals ready at the right time, his shirts and underwear washed and
ironed until he is about thirty-five. If the young man is eager to go to
work, he can always enroll with organized crime. Choices are many, almost
embarrassing: mafia in Sicily;
ndrangheta
in Calabria;
camorra
in Naples;
sacra
corona unita
in Puglia. In the meantime, the best Italian journalists find
