Finally the blood of San Gennaro has melted: I’m not a fascist, the racial laws of the 1938 were the lowest point in the history of Italy, I hate all tyrannies, including fascism. So he said among the other yesterday Giorgia Meloni speaking in the House as Prime Minister. Meloni’s speech was also ideological. Which is disappointed on the left so much so that a woman of the PD of the intelligence of Debora Serracchiani kicked by sending the ball to the stands: “We heard an ideological manifesto, but little about gas bills”. As if to say that ideology is not political. Curious.
What most struck in the investiture speech was the image of a long journey, indeed of a navigation. The metaphor was like for Odysseus that of the ship threatening to sink, it re-emerges, it is a boat full of holes but still the most beautiful. The point is that that itinerary has become a surprising victory and that that victory has caused a profound frustration on the left. That little blonde woman whom we saw speaking in the House yesterday and who usually speaks fluently with some experienced drum rolls yesterday got awkward and tripped, asked a little too loudly for a glass of water, she thanked, she even thanked the young people, who will certainly take to the streets against her just as she took to the streets against all governments.
Freedom is also fighting with the police. And then theunderdog. The underdog is not an Italian concept so much so that Giorgia Meloni she translated it because she speaks good English cultivated on the sacred texts of JRR Tolkienlord of the rings, middle lands, hordes of foreign orcs, and she explained that she was an underdog, a word that in English means loser, the one you would not bet on but who then reveals himself, as the ugly duckling of Hans Christian Andersen or the Peppermint Patty from Charlie Brown. Everyone looked at her as the underdog with that ideological record that you carry around with you.
While Giorgia launched her seductive opa to the Chamber, meanwhile a London something happened that would have made him jump in his chair Rudyard Kipling, the poet of the British Empire: an Indian son of Indian Indians, therefore a son of the pearl of the empire for whose loss Winston Churchill threw words of fire against the Duke of Mountbatten, the last one who had lost it, has become him Prime Minister of that former empire. It is a novelty for the West which had already granted itself many points by sending it to the White House Barack Obama. Barack was also an underdog. There Melons, ex fascist from the unlucky adolescence, he claimed his status as underdog because a woman, for having emotionally brought to Parliament a vision that is right-wing because it is shamelessly sentimental. That girl with the sometimes coarse and hoarse voice is a sentimental creature like no male predecessor ever was. After the angry speech at the meeting with the Spanish fascists of Vox an American journalist asked her: “But don’t you think you have made a barbed figure?” and she replied that “Yes, but I was very tired. When I’m exhausted I become hysterical “. A career politician would never say he gets hysterical.
Meanwhile a London, standing at the door of 10 Downing Street, Mr. Rishi Sunak he greeted the reporters behind the barriers with the posh accent of someone who studied at Cambridge, certainly not as a underdog of poverty. And still in these days another right-wing object is taking off again: the abominable Donald Trump, the most hated mop in the world, accused of inciting crowds against Parliament as he did Beppe Grillo when he wanted to uncover ours like a can of tuna. That Trump is playing his revenge with a right-wing politics that is not understood in Italy: detach theAmerica from the world, to make it a separate planet, the opposite of imperialism which consists in occupying and subduing. On Sunday many Italians will have wondered once again what is right.
In our latitudes, if you want to say how far you are on the right or on the left, you have to accept the rite of the graduated tape on which a notch is marked on the far right with the inscription Fascism and on the other one with the inscription Stalinist.
Then you make intermediate notches from right to left, writing acronyms of movements and parties. The tape did not exist at the time when theEngland he adopted the democratic parliamentary system then imitated, often very badly in which there is a party that represents those who work under the boss and the party of bosses who produce wealth. With us thanks to the splits from the old Italian socialist party, (the communists in 1921 and the fascists since 1919 and then with the March on Rome of the 1922), with still poorly defined webbing. It then took two external events to form the sacred ribbon that is still preserved in the special effects crypt: a two-year alliance, not only military, between Nazism and Soviet communism and then the stab of Hitler to Stalin which became the Great Patriotic War of all the communists in the world who were suddenly forced to pass from pro-German pacifism to the armed war of the Resistances. This story is the snake egg that generates monsters after being concealed and made invisible by making believe and believing that the left end of the ribbon, the Stalinist one, was the good, and that Nazi-fascist the eternally absolute evil with no way of redemption.
Now, tell me: can someone who comes from the ashes of trade union and bourgeois fascism be worthy of winning democratic elections? If you remember, it had already happened with Gianfranco Fini who went to apologize to Israel and he had passed all the blood tests, but that he became the darling of the lefts when he opposed Silvio Berlusconi and was enlisted among the good guys. Hence the next question about what it means to be leftist when we stop being defenders of workers in great social conflicts but we improvise radicals by opening paths already plowed by the Anglo-Saxon democracies that precede us by twenty years. “I vote this time Melons “ said the workers of theIlva of Tarantowith the frown of Cipputi. Once the workers of Mirafiori shouted “I vote Berlinguer”. And then they voted for the League from Bossi and then for Berlusconi and for the Salvini southerner. Now it’s the turn of the Melons, but the victories are ephemeral, and Giorgia knows it. Berlusconi he had swept twice in that electorate and to silence him they had to use the reverse gear Severino law.
True, the Melons it is identity. And who isn’t? The French? Come on. British? They put the warships in the English Channel. And then what is happening in Ukraine shows the dramatic robustness of the identity question. Meloni’s only enemy can be the ally competing on the same electorate. In Italy we have had the good fortune of guides like that of Mattarella and much later, later, of Dragons who were able to keep appearing and being united, while the world was attacked by literary monsters such as the great Chinese pestilence, the ferocious Russian war that is forbidden to call war, the looming African famine, the price crisis as in the fifteenth century accompanied by plagues, predatory movements and the flight of peoples driven by the fragility of the world.
Today our ecosystem holds up and Giorgia Meloni, also by her choice, she is the little match girl of George Bernard Shaw became a leader without losing her Cockney township accent. Now that it is in its posh, or aristocratic, form, it is the same as Dragons with his benevolent shark smile. Forecast: if Meloni holds up, her left will be regenerated. If she does fall, as is possible, we will have another ice age both to the right and to the left.
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