by Paolo Guzzanti
The cameras are never satisfied with the embrace between a joyful Romano Prodi, white but hilarious, and an Enrico Letta who looked like Garibaldi after the conquest of the Two Sicilies. Around them, the Feast of Unity of Bologna which is not a geographical place but of the soul and which, while the Soviet Union lasted, was used to collect some change by selling sausages and then claim that the Party, the Communist one, drew his wealth from the feast of Unity and not from the briefcase that Mr. Ponomariov filled every year with dollars destined for the Dark Shops.
But today there are no longer the Dark Shops, there is no Ponomariov. And finally, both Enrico Letta and Romano Prodi do not come from the PCI but from the Christian Democrats and this enthusiasm of two Christian Democrats who pretend to be children of the ecosystem of the old PCI caused a feeling of intellectual cheating. But in that prolonged and moved embrace like that of Geppetto when he retrieves Pinocchio after the long imprisonment in the womb of the Shark, there was both the comedy and the drama of the Democratic Party that we no longer know who he is, who he is and what is beautiful. . Romano Prodi who, at least, with his olive tree among whose branches the fake squirrels Cip (D’Alema) and Ciop (Veltroni) jumped twice after putting together pieces destined to disintegrate despite the glue.
The lip of that meeting and that embrace left little doubt: “What have you done with my party?” Romano asked the young Enrico as if he were immodestly Augustus asking Varus what happened to his legions. But the legions of Letta politically speaking – they are not cruelly ambushed legions, they simply do not exist.
Letta certainly realizes this – because he is a cultured and intelligent man even if he chews little and badly about politics because he was not learned or by Prodi (who, too, was defeated by the famous 101st office that blocked him access to the Quirinale). nor by Walter Veltroni.
Do you remember Veltroni’s great strategic idea? A left party totally copied from the American Democratic Party, for which it had a personal vocation. We still remember when he convinced the last scions of President Kennedy’s family to sponsor him at the Mignon cinema in Rome: a great democratic party, but an American party.
Veltroni confided that he had never been a communist in his heart not even five minutes and in fact the real communists of the previous generation sang “E noi farèm like Russia, noi farèm like Lenìn” while he wanted to do like America and like the Kennedys: a a project for which he wore the “botton down” shirts with a precursor spirit that you could only find at the time on Manhattan’s Fifth Avenue.
How did that project go? It was not a triumph, but it was something nonetheless, at least a creative attempt to imitate the identity of others, not very exportable to Italy.
But then? The reformist people of the left, that mythical people that we always talk about but almost never see, assigned a great result to another leader of the Democratic Party and Prime Minister, that Matteo Renzi who collected a robust forty percent at the Europeans, a success that for an excess of self-esteem Renzi sacrificed in the roulette of the constitutional referendum against which the whole world of no to reformist modernity took sides, the same one that opposes the reformist center-right and that only wants to guarantee the permanent state of cave culture, as they do today Letta’s new allies.
Letta was truly extraordinary and perhaps this is why Romano Prodi embraced him with such commitment. To strangle him without showing him. Letta was a standard-bearer of Westernism, of Atlanticism, of technological reformism who seemed to hear about a consolidated liberal, while instead he kept himself and his party in the same sack in which the inconsistent Five Star movement was unraveling.
And in the end it was the Five Stars who sent him to hell, and not the other way around. Prodi covered him with kisses. But there were sharp, retractable teeth like vampires in a Quentin Tarantino movie.