In memory
In the previous post we mentioned a page of the books (ton bibliòn). Today I offer you another one, this one:
Many of you certainly remember the taxi driver of "L'Italia può farcela", the protogrillno who "Se sò magnati tutto!" However, few noticed at the time, or at least few, practically none, pointed out that they had noticed where it was taking me. It had been my way of signaling you, observing the necessary confidentiality, that there had been an interest in our work, that a conversation was going on. Because some of you had asked me to start that speech, and I had no reason not to listen to you.
But maybe we should take a step back, going back here , i.e. here , i.e. here:
It was August 23, 2011, I was just an economic policy associate, away from the buildings, unaware of the grammar and syntax of politics, but I understood how it was going to end, and I found it profoundly unfair. If this blog that does not exist has had the success it (since it does not exist) has had, it is, I believe, because many of you, despite having been educated, like me, by those masters of hate speech who are the media who despise Berlusconi, you understood that what was happening was profoundly unfair, because Berlusconi had been wanted there by the Italians, perhaps not by us, but in any case by other Italians. It was unfair that the smile of two characters on whom in the meantime the ax of history had fallen ( this and this one ) was enough to depose him, and the real motivations of this daring operation were absurd and dangerous: to pave the way for austerity, for the butchery with a red apron (which it would have been, but in August 2011 I could not know this, Mario Monti).
While today those of the cowardly outrage unbalance themselves in all personalistic encomium servants, whose only purpose, as Daniele Capezzone always reminds us, is to put one's ego in the cone of light left by the shadow of the deceased on duty, here I limit myself to give you only a political evaluation: the Debate, that is this blog that doesn't exist, has always had it clear that the looting and cowardly attack to which Berlusconi was subjected at the time we started talking was total nonsense. The conditions in which the country found itself could not be attributed to him nor, as was customary in the salons of the prurient and right-thinking left, to the excesses (actual or presumed) of his private life. Here an important stage in my detachment from the left took place: in the Savonarolian enthusiasm with which the latter led back to a subjective theme, to personal hatred (abundantly imbued with envy), the objective dynamics that were at work, and of which he evidently preferred not to be interested, or worse still that he wanted to hide from his electors, for fear that the inevitable would happen (i.e. that these, having recognized the consubstantiality of the left with these objective dynamics, asseverated his nature as fifth column of the foreign podestà, would abandon it, despite his desperate attempts to save themselves by clinging to the leaky lifebuoy of "rightism").
I don't want to add anything else: the operation "that time he told me…" or "the last time I saw him…" we gladly leave to others. I limit myself to observing that, in some way, the Debate was born, if not from him, from what they were doing to him, and what they were doing to us: that is, as you will recall, from the observation that the bailouts that were supposed to save us (implied: from him, according to the left) they would not have saved us.
And so it was.
We'll talk about the rest another time.
This is a machine translation of a post (in Italian) written by Alberto Bagnai and published on Goofynomics at the URL https://goofynomics.blogspot.com/2023/06/in-memoriam.html on Mon, 12 Jun 2023 18:03:00 +0000. Some rights reserved under CC BY-NC-ND 3.0 license.