Italy's new government is unlikely to break with the past

The left-right coalition represents a continuation of the old, discredited politics - and a victory for Berlusconi.

When compared to other geographical areas Italian politics often looks very colourful. This is the nation which, in some ways, still represents a sort of laboratory for the western world, and acts like a model for other countries – from the building of the nation-states to the rise of fascism and the contemporary relations between media and power. This went along with the presence of characters like Garibaldi, Berlusconi, and, of course, Beppe Grillo. Different to some northern European states, Italy also experiences high levels of politicisation in national life, and a strong political and ideological polarisation and fragmentation. This contributed in making Italian politics so argumentative and, often, quarrelling.

Yet, miracles, at times, happen and for the second time in a row a "grand coalition" is being established, gathering together the centre-left and the centre-right. A government led by one of the leaders of the Partito Democratico, Enrico Letta, has been established. It is clear that Italy does need a government and a leadership. But is this the right one to deal with the economic and social turmoil Italy faces? President of the Republic, Giorgio Napolitano, talked about the need for "unity", like during the years of the anti-fascist Resistance (probably overlooking that politicians in Berlusconi’s party never rejected interwar fascism). Other commentators looked instead excited at the welcome, but cosmetic-only presence of young and female senior ministers. A source from the Partito Democratico even suggested that they had to back it because this government represented a "chance" for Italy.

Along with an evident lack of political strategy, the centre-left is showing a quite high degree of hypocrisy. Over the years, anti-Berlusconism was the only magnet to keep together some of its own forces and streams – and these anti-Berlusconi stances are very strong in the leftist electorate. At the same time, their poor attitudes contributed to the incredible endurance of Berlusconi’s political activity, and recently to the rise of Grillo's Five Star Movement. It also seems that they hardly learned from the history of Italian elections. Elections took place on 24-25 February, and the Partito Democratico was leading in polls. However, Berlusconi came very close, and the centre-left could not gain any realistic and stable parliamentary majority. Following the establishment of this governmental coalition, the real winner is Berlusconi, the one politician who many European elites and international organisations would have loved to see disappear.

We might wonder what these leading foreign and economic forces think about this development – especially if we consider that Berlusconi has recently employed anti-EU and anti-Euro propaganda which generated criticisms in Brussels. Moreover, it is unclear what this mixture of centre-right, centre-left, and liberal politicians will do in foreign policy, economic plans, conflict of interests, unemployment, and, intriguingly given Berlusconi’s ongoing trials, justice. It will probably be the centre-left losing votes again as it happened following their backing of Mario Monti's technocratic government. Berlusconi will, in fact, play the card of elections when he feels to be strong enough. He has already done this, and then played an electoral campaign against austerity, Germany, and the same Monti (after having initially supported him).

In some ways, Grillo won too. The left-right coalition gives strength to his argument that all parties are the same. However, millions of Italian people voted against traditional politics, against austerity (at least in part) and the technocratic government of Monti, yet they end up now with this type of catch-all government. The coalition also represents an attempt to react against Grillo and common citizens voting for the Five Star Movement. Traditional parties prefer to stay together, hoping that the economy will improve and Grillo lose votes. However, this is well in line with the ethical decline of contemporary Italian politics too. This is, in fact, the outcome of a couple of decades of failing political elites. Many people, and especially the youth, voted for the Five Stars because they wanted a moralisation of public life, meritocracy, cuts to politicians' privileges, a halt to the brain drain, and have deputies pursuing collective interests. A good part of the centre-left electorate also probably hoped that a new political era could start after years of Berlusconism, scandals, bribery, foreign media attention, and economic downward. Will a government backed by the heirs of the Bunga Bunga-like politics reverse the economic trend, save the country from mafia and corruption, and regain international prestige and the votes of the young generations?

Andrea Mammone is a historian of modern and contemporary Europe at Royal Holloway, University of London. He is author of a forthcoming book on transnational neo-fascism (Cambridge University Press) and coedited “Italy Today. The Sick Man of Europe” (Routledge)

Slight ritorno: Berlusconi, in the Italian senate on 30 April 2013. (Photo: Getty.)

Andrea Mammone is a historian of modern and contemporary Europe at Royal Holloway, University of London.

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France is changing: an army stalks the streets and Boris Johnson wanders the Tuileries

Will Self on the militarisation of France, and Boris Johnson at the Foreign Office.

At the corner of the rue D’Hauteville and the rue de Paradis in the tenth arrondissement of Paris is a retro-video-games-themed bar, Le Fantôme, which is frequented by some not-so-jeunes gens – the kind of thirtysomethings nostalgic for an era when you had to go to an actual place if you wanted to enter virtual space. They sit placidly behind the plate-glass windows zapping Pac-Men and Space Invaders, while outside another – and rather more lethal – sort of phantom stalks the sunlit streets.

I often go to Paris for work, and so have been able to register the incremental militarisation of its streets since President Hollande first declared a state of emergency after last November’s terrorist attacks. In general the French seem more comfortable about this prêt-à-porter khaki than we’d probably be; the army-nation concept is, after all, encrypted deep in their collective psyche. The army was constituted as a revolutionary instrument. France was the first modern nation to introduce universal male conscription – and it continued in one form or another right up until the mid-1990s.

Even so, it was surprising to witness the sang-froid with which Parisians regarded the camouflaged phantoms wandering among them: a patrol numbering eight ­infantrymen and women moved up the roadway, scoping out doorways, nosing into passages – but when one peered into Le Fantôme, his assault rifle levelled, none of the boozing gamers paid the least attention. I witnessed this scene the Saturday after Mohamed Lahouaiej-Bouhlel ran amok on the Promenade des Anglais in Nice – it was a little preview of the new state of emergency.

On Monday 18 July the French premier, Manuel Valls, was booed at a memorial service for the victims of the Nice attacks – while Marine Le Pen has been making all the populist running, whipping up anxieties about the enemy within. For many French, the events of the past week – including the failed Turkish coup – are steps along the way limned by Michel Houellebecq in his bestselling novel Submission; a via dolorosa that ends with La Marianne wearing the hijab and France itself annexed by a new caliphate.

Into this febrile drama comes a new player: Boris Johnson, the British Foreign Secretary. What can we expect from this freshly minted statesman when it comes to our relations with our closest neighbour? There is no doubt that Johnson is a Francophile – I’ve run into him and his family at the Tuileries, and he made much of his own francophone status during the referendum campaign. In Paris last winter to launch the French edition of his Churchill biography, Johnson wowed a publication dinner by speaking French for the entire evening. He was sufficiently fluent to bumble, waffle and generally avoid saying anything serious at all.

Last Sunday I attended the Lambeth Country Show, an oxymoronic event for which the diverse inhabitants of my home borough gather in Brockwell Park, south London, for jerked and halal chicken, funfair rides, Quidditch-watching, and “country-style” activities, such as looking at farm animals and buying their products. Wandering among ancient Rastafarians with huge shocks of dreadlocks, British Muslims wearing immaculate white kurtas blazoned with “ASK ME ABOUT ISLAM” and crusty old Brixton punks, I found it quite impossible to rid my mind of the Nice carnage – or stop wondering how they would react if armed soldiers were patrolling, instead of tit-helmeted, emphatically unarmed police.

I stepped into the Royal Horticultural Society marquee, and there they were: the entire cast of our end-of-the-pier-show politics, in vegetable-sculpture form and arrayed for judging. There was Jeremy Corbyn (or “Cornbin”) made out of corncobs – and Boris Johnson in the form of a beetroot, being stabbed in the back by a beetroot Michael Gove. And over there was Johnson again, this time rendered in cabbage. The veggie politicians were the big draw, Brixtonians standing six-deep around them, iPhones aloft.

The animal (as opposed to the vegetable) Johnson has begun his diplomatic rounds this week, his first démarches as tasteless and anodyne as cucumber. No British abandonment of friends after Brexit . . . Coordinated response to terror threat . . . Call for Erdogan to be restrained in response to failed coup . . . Blah-blah, whiff-whaff-waffle . . . Even someone as gaffe-prone as he can manage these simple lines, but I very much doubt he will be able to produce rhetorical flourishes as powerful as his hero’s. In The Churchill Factor: How One Man Made History, Johnson writes of Winnie overcoming “his stammer and his depression and his ­appalling father to become the greatest living Englishman”. Well, I’ve no idea if Bojo suffers from depression now but he soon will if he cleaves to this role model. His Churchill-worship (like so many others’) hinges on his belief that, without Churchill as war leader, Britain would have been ground beneath the Nazi jackboot. It may well be that, with his contribution to the Brexit campaign, Johnson now feels he, too, has wrested our national destiny from the slavering jaws of contingency.

Of course the differences between the two politicians are far more significant: Johnson’s genius – such as it is – lies in his intuitive understanding that politics, in our intensely mediatised and entirely commoditised era, is best conceived of as a series of spectacles or stunts: nowadays you can fool most of the people, most of the time. This is not a view you can imagine associating with Churchill, who, when his Gallipoli stratagem went disastrously wrong, exiled himself, rifle in hand, to the trenches. No, the French people Johnson both resembles and has an affinity for are the ones caught up in the virtual reality of Le Fantôme – rather than those patrolling the real and increasingly mean streets without. 

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt