Again about Berlusconi
It says something about Italians' complete lack of self-confidence that the main news in the leading newspapers over the last few days is that the L'Aquila G8 meeting "went well". Even from those who consciously hoped it would fail and discredit Berlusconi, there is a kind of silent sigh of relief; and not coincidentally, Berlusconi Derangement Syndrome has fallen largely silent.
In fact, the summit went rather better than just "well". Some useful work, especially on the financial side, was done. But that is the least of it. By taking the world's leading politicians to a disaster area, rather than shutting them behind luxurious gated compounds, it gave a real sense of the stakes of politicians' work. Its efficient running left Italians with a sense that the issues of L'Aquila itself can be resolved; and last but not least, it allowed all the guests to do something that is second nature to them as professional politicians, and which yet they do too rarely together - meet the public, shake hands, listen to problems and promise help, be photographed with heroic firefighters and dignified victims. I am not being sarcastic; in itself, this pleasure in public contact is an innocent part of a politician's nature, and may from time to time be constructive and useful. It is at any rate something that is bred in them from the beginning of their careers, and that they nearly all enjoy doing. To move the summit from the island of La Maddalena to the L'Aquila disaster area was s stroke of showman genius on Berlusconi's part.
But the thing that most Italians are grateful for - and that is increasing the PM's stature among them - is simply this: "Thank God nothing went wrong". There is an expectation that, in international company, Italy will somehow manage to disgrace herself. Indeed, that is a good part of Berlusconi Derangement Syndrome: a widespread sense that the style, as much as the substance, of the man, reflects negatively on us. In a country where far bella figura, to look good in the eyes of others, is a desperate ambition, and conversely public ridicule is the universal nightmare; a country, too, that lives with the pressure of an overwhelming and ever-present past, to which the average Italian simply does not feel equal; the idea that Italy is represented in the world's eyes by a vulgarian of the deepest dye, whose fashion disasters are legend, whose frothy jocosities are of the kind that embarrass people at family reunions, whose attempts at literacy and culture are if anything even worse - the idea that Italy is represented in the world's eyes by Berlusconi is a genuine nightmare.
Therefore, when the vulgarian in question proves able to arrange an international meeting, in difficult circumstances and to a high standard, to the outspoken satisfaction of all his guests - the country rejoices. To an Englishman, such things may be routine and hardly to be noticed; to an Italian, they are at the heart of his conflicted and painful relationship with his country.
In fact, the summit went rather better than just "well". Some useful work, especially on the financial side, was done. But that is the least of it. By taking the world's leading politicians to a disaster area, rather than shutting them behind luxurious gated compounds, it gave a real sense of the stakes of politicians' work. Its efficient running left Italians with a sense that the issues of L'Aquila itself can be resolved; and last but not least, it allowed all the guests to do something that is second nature to them as professional politicians, and which yet they do too rarely together - meet the public, shake hands, listen to problems and promise help, be photographed with heroic firefighters and dignified victims. I am not being sarcastic; in itself, this pleasure in public contact is an innocent part of a politician's nature, and may from time to time be constructive and useful. It is at any rate something that is bred in them from the beginning of their careers, and that they nearly all enjoy doing. To move the summit from the island of La Maddalena to the L'Aquila disaster area was s stroke of showman genius on Berlusconi's part.
But the thing that most Italians are grateful for - and that is increasing the PM's stature among them - is simply this: "Thank God nothing went wrong". There is an expectation that, in international company, Italy will somehow manage to disgrace herself. Indeed, that is a good part of Berlusconi Derangement Syndrome: a widespread sense that the style, as much as the substance, of the man, reflects negatively on us. In a country where far bella figura, to look good in the eyes of others, is a desperate ambition, and conversely public ridicule is the universal nightmare; a country, too, that lives with the pressure of an overwhelming and ever-present past, to which the average Italian simply does not feel equal; the idea that Italy is represented in the world's eyes by a vulgarian of the deepest dye, whose fashion disasters are legend, whose frothy jocosities are of the kind that embarrass people at family reunions, whose attempts at literacy and culture are if anything even worse - the idea that Italy is represented in the world's eyes by Berlusconi is a genuine nightmare.
Therefore, when the vulgarian in question proves able to arrange an international meeting, in difficult circumstances and to a high standard, to the outspoken satisfaction of all his guests - the country rejoices. To an Englishman, such things may be routine and hardly to be noticed; to an Italian, they are at the heart of his conflicted and painful relationship with his country.