Of Lorenzo Zuppini
Saviano is not a symbol, because nothingness does not symbolize anything. Saviano is an end in itself, It's the hit of every summer that everyone listens to but no one dances to unlistenable, banal, profoundly rhetorical and corny. It's a cooked apple that can only be well-liked by those who think that talk television is a real information platform, those who think that Mamma Rai is a public service and not a box at the perpetual service of left-wing indignation and respectability. Saviano is tailor-made for that very civilized part of Italy, very attentive to trivial things, who two or three times a week needs to feel part of a great fight against great existential problems, always very honest and unequivocally on the side of good, unassailable, as is the anti-mafia or the humanitarianism of humanitarianists of non-governmental origin, NGO indeed. Saviano, said 'o writer, It's good for middle school and high school visits, in lecture halls full of idle students who want to applaud a hero of civil society, induced into this soporific idiocy by public teachers trained and flattened by respectable and left-wing positions. We could write a novel about it, titling it “The wooden tongues”, because it is precisely that kind of constant political correctness that characterizes Saviano and his followers, i philanthropy, committed intellectuals, the lounge journalists, always good, superheroes threatened by mafias and bad right-wing politicians, just as seems to be happening to the author of the novel Gomorrah, just to return to the daily news.
Salvini said the unspeakable, following in the footsteps of Verdi's senator D'Anna: he made it clear that Saviano is on his balls and that his escort is a ghost useful only to frighten anyone who would like to counter his ramblings by giving him his opinion. He has had the supply for eleven years; he's had it since he was twenty-six; wrote Gomorrah; he can no longer have an ice cream in peace; maybe he can't even have a fuck in peace anymore; he is an activist, he is the first anti-mafia activist; Today, really, he rediscovers himself as a humanitarian, black brother lover; open minded and looking towards the future: legalization of soft drugs. In a Palasharp country, of Repubblica and the journalistic investigations carried out with agents provocateurs (see Fanpage), in a country like Italy in short, what more do you want to give birth to the unassailable popular hero, the Batman who doesn't have an easy life, who takes on all the dicks from all over the world, who doesn't have a thing to say but says it with a seriousness that makes you vomit, always grey, always dark, rings under the eyes, threatened, freedom fighter, listen to that stuff, a kind of Jovanotti song.
But then the most grotesque aspect of the story is the immense and undeserved seriousness that is conferred, as a medal for valor, at every release, to each of his videos, to every one of his utterances. He spoke a few days ago about the economy and public debt: he spouted off a string of bullshit worthy of a stand-up comedian. The five billion that will be spent on immigration management seem non-existent, to hear him, because they will not be counted in the debt-to-GDP ratio. Ecco, since he has the supply and can't have the ice cream in peace, no one had the courage to tell him that he would do well to learn to write books without copying and avoiding trying his hand at activities that are not his competence:those five billion are more debt, a minute later, all of us Italians will find ourselves paying, to support, in addition to the other mountain of debt that has been accumulating relentlessly for decades. Saviano wrote years ago about the Casalesi, That, incidentally, if they were intimidated by this character then we are truly faced with the stylized mafia, and since then he knows practically everything and everyone. And use the right terms, the persuasive ones: cites the Constitution, mention racism, mentions his fight against the villains of the world, from the Camorra to Mexican narcos (them too, evidently, so unlucky as to slip away), always defends the least, and he seems to have gone to school with Gino Strada.
Another phenomenon of this century, another beg for approval and applause, sulky, falsely worried, pacifist when it would be necessary to fight and anti-racist while we are dying of philanthropy. From afar, from other worlds, This writer thunders against us and says in videos lasting a couple of minutes that the League must return the stolen money, that there were 'Ndrangheta supporters at a Salvini rally and that, to dig into the recent past, there is gomorrah in De Luca's lists. The State is always distant from the fight against the mafia, therefore the politicians are all close to those environments, comes to be deduced. And he continues undisturbed without specifying which state, which government, what money, which rallies and, above all, what the hell does he want from the lives of all of us. Which is already hardly bearable in itself, we are already dragging it forward armed with the lightness needed to avoid committing suicide. Ma we can say that we are tired of this censor of the collective conscience? We can say that Gomorrah is an unreadable novel and that Sciascia, unlike him, among men, the halflings, the little men, the piglet and the quaquaraquà is really part of the first category? There is a need for a common and heartfelt initiative, sincere and would be, not respectable and not hypocritical, using appropriately harsh but non-professorial tones, to say with a single voice: enough Saviano!
