Overwhelmed by the media hype and political implications, we too are forced – not without a hint of ill-concealed disgust – to dwell on the Sangiuliano case, which – of course – is not the Dreyfus affair but the usual scandal, or presumed such, of the Italy of power. We don’t care about the gossip that has unleashed the usual prudishness. But when the owner of a clothing store becomes a consultant to the Ministry of Culture (precisely “advisor to the minister for Major Events”), with access to documents on the security of the G7, eight trips with the minister, repeated and confirmed presences in the ministry’s pool, dinners in restaurants overlooking the sea of the Riviera di Ponente (who paid?), it is legitimate to ask whether something has gone wrong.
The minister clumsily tried to deny or downplay the matter, but the “non-consultant” overwhelmed him with a flood of evidence, refuting him blow by blow. Times have changed and perhaps the Ministry of Culture hasn’t noticed. Once upon a time, the unfortunate woman would have gone to the editorial office of a newspaper and – if she was received – she could have confided her hatred and bitterness in an interview and that would have been the end of it, the Italy of power would have tried to contain that voice that had escaped from the Senate, like a wound that needed healing. Today, the “disowned” or “dumped” consultant – take your pick – doesn’t even need a newspaper, a smartphone is enough for her. The doctor in question has unloaded – even live during a television broadcast – on the minister a flood of languid selfies, audio, video, documents, recordings (even filmed with glasses equipped with cameras available in any optical shop) such as to reply to the minister’s denials blow for blow in front of 30 thousand followers (and then by viral effect to the whole country). The occult rooms of power, the “arcana imperii”, no longer exist. A pair of Ray Bans is enough to crumble the plasterboard wall of privacy protection (but which privacy?). The first lesson, for the minister and the little Italy in question, is that the impudence of power no longer exists and that naivety, in politics, is paid dearly.
But beyond the gossip, there are serious implications if we look at things from a political and institutional perspective. The “non-consultant” often traveled aboard the minister’s blue car, paid for by taxpayers. You can’t offer rides on government cars to the first person who passes by, and even less can a minister not deliver sensitive documents and information to the aforementioned first person who passes by, because it is detrimental to national security. Then there is a question of institutional decorum, of public morality that certainly in this twisted case, between trips, dinners with a sea view, overnight stays in cramped hotel rooms and so on, posting on social media, certainly did not exist. And that Prime Minister Meloni – very careful about these things, at least in words – will have to take into account.
