Other than nation, homeland and tricolor. Italy does not exist, says Rondolino

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"To begin with, Italy does not exist." The incipit of Fabrizio Rondolino 's book, "Italy does not exist (not to mention Italians)" (Piemme) is lapidary. For the author, our being together is the result of chance, not history. In fact, things were better before, when we were divided into a plurality of kingdoms, republics and grand duchies. "The only pre-unification state that was badly governed and administered worse," says Rondolino, "was the Papal State, and this is what we are today: a vast, inefficient slum of bigoted sinners." Rondolino demolishes everything about Italy: its origins, its vocation for unity, its anthem, its flag, its ruling classes, the Church and obviously the family-mafia-mother triad. One could, to this jungle of hyperbole, object that, for a country that does not exist, for better or worse Italy has been together for a hundred and fifty years and more; and even with a certain success, or at least without too many failures. Rondolino would answer (and answers), meanwhile, that something unites us, but that something is the worst of us . “Our main characteristic,” he writes, “seems to be self-denigration: there is no period in the history of Italy, pre- and post-unification, in which writers, philosophers, politicians and intellectuals have not taken up the word and the pen to speak badly, indeed very badly, of their fellow countrymen” (he himself is, obviously, part of the club). From this does not derive the humble and laborious attempt to improve: on the contrary, it results in the constant and systematic self-absolution. In fact, Italians assert themselves, when they do so, not by virtue of their being Italian, but in spite of it; and, not by chance, they find their fortune abroad. Nemo propheta in patria on steroids.

Piero Gobetti, in 1922, was the first to recognize in fascism "the autobiography of the nation" or rather, the inevitable point of arrival of those who "renounce the political struggle out of laziness". The Italian left, which Rondolino knows well and to which he dedicates a chapter, has often found in these words a pass to underline its difference. But, Rondolino mocks them, they are not anti-Italian: they are very Italian, devotees of that same self-absolution that we have seen to be one of the stigmata of the Italian. "It is a left so lost, ours, that it even manages to discuss seriously and to split on whether or not the 5 Star Movement (the capital V stands for "fuck you") is a "left-wing" party, while it is, clearly, the most ferocious, intolerant and naturally fascist version of Italian indifference" . In short, having forced Italians into the same state architecture has brought out those defects that culminated in fascism. This is an important observation, precisely at a time when the Nation, the Fatherland, the Tricolour and so on seem to be coming back into fashion in capital letters. But Italians do not need Italy to exist: perhaps, with all due respect to the Marquis d'Azeglio, rather than being Italians it would have been better to dedicate ourselves to undoing Italy (which, according to this book, we succeed very well).

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