IN SEARCH OF ITALY:In the first of a three-part series to mark Italy's 150 years as a unified state, Paddy Agnew asks how united Italians really are
Despite talk of regional divisions, Italy is solidly united – not least by food and pacifism, writes
PADDY AGNEW
in Rome
ON ARRIVAL in this country 25 years ago, one of the first nuggets of street-wise, hard-core knowledge about the “real” Italy that was oft repeated to me was that this is a much divided country. From north to south, from the Alps to Sicily, regional differences are huge, regional loyalties fierce and, in effect, the only time that Italians ever actually come together to feel “Italian” is when the national football team plays in the World Cup finals.
In the early days, this wisdom used to perplex me greatly. Arriving in the Italy of the 80s was to arrive into a hermetically sealed, cultural monolith in which “outside” influences had but very limited impact. At first, I put it down to the fact I had not travelled enough through Italy to understand the issue fully.
Twenty-five years later, I am not so sure. As many Italians find themselves surprised by the not infrequent displays of unashamed patriotism (for example, the enthusiastic singing of the Mameli, the national anthem) that have accompanied the initial celebrations of this year’s 150th anniversary of Italian unification, I have the suspicion that, despite all the socioeconomic regional differences, Italy might be a lot more “unified” than certain (Northern League) politicians would care to admit.
IRISH READERS might understand the point better if I make a comparison with Northern Ireland. As a creature from those six wee, black Northern counties myself, I have often thought that one of the great ironies of the Northern conflict was and is the fact that, for all their stridently proclaimed “irreconcilable differences”, Northern Protestants probably have more in common with Northern Catholics than they too might care to admit.
In the case of Italy, what am I talking about?
Well, for a start, and obviously allowing for all the broad generalisations that accompany such reflections as this, there was and still is the sense of what I call the cultural monolith. For example, an estimated 20 million Italians from north, south, east and west tuned in to watch the San Remo song contest last month.
The what? Yes, indeed, the San Remo song contest is a week-long televisual extravaganza attended by major Italian and international “stars” and involving a usually intensely forgettable set of syrupy pop numbers. No one else in the world could watch or listen to this stuff for more than three minutes. Yet in Italy, it has become part of the national narrative since the emergence of the song contest on this Italian Riviera town in 1951 coincided with a critical moment of national rebuilding in the wake of the destruction and devastation of World War II.
Leave aside the San Remo song contest and let us consider other aspects of the cultural monolith.
TAKE THE vexed question of food. Sardinians, Sicilians, those from Tuscany, Piedmont or Lombardy are never likely to agree on what represents the “best” in Italian cooking but they are all certain to agree that when they step outside of the peninsula, they are headed for potential culinary disaster.
A good friend who runs his own bar and restaurant once told me he had only ever travelled to France once.
The food was so bad, he said, he could not eat for three days and, in the end, cut short his holiday and rushed home to get some proper food.
Most of you would probably argue that the French know a thing or two about good food but my bar owner (and millions of other Italians) would beg to differ.
Recently, the same friend set off for a fortnight in New York. When he returned, I inquired how things had gone on the culinary front. He smiled broadly. No problem, there are Italian restaurants all over New York, he assured me.
THE FEDERALIST Northern League might like to rant and rave about the crime-ridden south. Yet the guys from Lombardy or Sicily will be equally horrified at the sight of a tourist ordering a big creamy cappuccino after a heavy restaurant meal. It’s a bit like putting salt, pepper and tartar sauce on your vanilla ice cream.
The rest of the world has no idea what the fuss is about but, in this, as in much else, the Italian cultural monolith will out.
Once I ordered a cappuccino late in the afternoon with my bar owner friend. When he brought it across to me, he inquired if there was something wrong. How else could you explain Paddy drinking a cappuccino at five in the afternoon?
THAT UNIFIED culture touches on other, arguably more serious issues (mind you, for Italians, nothing is more serious than food).
It always struck me as logical that the largest anti-Iraq invasion protest in any western country in 2003 was held in Rome.
On February 15th, 2003, more than three million people marched in the city to protest against the imminent US-led military intervention in what the 2004 Guinness Book Of World Records dubbed the largest anti-war rally in history.
The vast majority of Italians loathe the concept of gung-ho, state-sponsored warfare. You could say that Mussolini cured the national psyche of that problem.
You could also say that a majority of Italians much prefer dialogue and negotiation to confrontation and warfare.
Even as we write, and with reasons that are obviously much closer to home, a serious Italian pacifist movement is urging a ceasefire and total caution in Libya.
It is easy, but wrong, to attribute these sentiments to a clichéd “tanks-in-reverse-gear” view of Italy.
Another of the great unifying elements in today’s Italy is, ironically, one of those “powers” which most vigorously fought against Garibaldi, Cavour, Vittorio Emmanuele et al. Namely, the Catholic Church.
STATISTICS OBVIOUSLY change and day by day migrants of other religious convictions (Muslim, Hindu, Sikh, Buddhist etc) arrive on Italian shores but in a 2006 Eurispes survey, 87.8 per cent of the Italian population declared themselves to be Catholic (36.8 per cent practising).
The importance of the tacit support currently offered by the Italian Catholic Church to the Berlusconi centre-right government, not to mention the kid gloves with which the normally rough and ready Northern League treats the church, only serves to make the point.
Italian Catholicism, be it à la carte or militant, lapsed or practising, remains a hugely unifying force in Italian life.
This survey of what I have called “unifying” elements in these Italian times has, of course, so far managed to leave out arguably the most unifying element of all, namely the Italian language.
Even allowing for a wide variety of still extant regional languages and dialects, today’s Italy is clearly a country where 99 per cent of the time, life is lived and business is done in Italian (albeit an Italian that may be very differently accented).
INEVITABLY, in a technological age, nationwide radio and TV services have done much to homogenise the usage of the Italian language.
Then there is the obvious consideration that, unlike, say, Chinese, English or Spanish, Italian is not a transcontinental language spoken by millions around the planet.
The International Linguistic Association estimates that of the 66.5 million people who speak Italian today, 60 million of them live in Italy. All of which is to say that to speak Italian is to be plugged into a very particular and “focused” culture.
There are thousands and thousands of other manifestations of the extent to which, unknown to themselves, Italians are much more “unified” than they think – the conformity of daily life in everything from dress code (one newspaper recently questioned the capability of a senior judge because he was photographed wearing turquoise socks) to co-ordinated national holiday celebrations.
SUFFICE TO say that there is no greater nonsense or more cynical manipulation in modern Italy than the myth of Padania, the Padanian people and the Northern League.
TOMORROW: Sex, love and the family in today’s Italy.