No
matter where one goes in the world, a trace of Italy –
pizza parlors, high-fashion, the aroma of espresso and cappuccino
– is never far. From San Francisco to Tokyo, aesthetic
models introduced by the Renaissance still influence much of
global urbanism and architecture. From its ancient past is revealed
what created modern Italy in the now international Roman script,
when imperial Rome was the most cosmopolitan place in the world.
Counted among innovations from ancient Rome that spread rapidly
around the world are aqueducts, fast-curing cement, umbrellas
and scissors.
Today,
though, Italy seems to fear the fierce energy and exchange of
ideas that characterized its old cosmopolitan self, barricading
itself, like a protective charm, behind its traditions. Amidst
growing antipathy towards immigrants and foreigners, ethnic
food, language and attire have emerged as handy targets for
politicians professing to defend Italy’s traditional way
of life.
Part
of Italy’s population, nervous over globalization, keeps
electing into power a political class that often shows an anachronistic
inclination for trying to block incoming cultural influences,
lest they permanently change a familiar landscape. Many voters
belong to either the right-wing party called the Northern League,
which advocates splitting the country into a confederation of
semi-autonomous states along the lines of present-day Italian
regions, or Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi’s the People
of Liberty party.
Not
that the national government is too hands-on, leaving the matter
mostly to the more parochial city governments. The latter have
become unstoppable in their zealous churning out of laws and
ordinances that have chosen food as the terrain of greatest
danger for Italian identity.
The
Roman Empire built its culinary tradition on imported black
pepper from India, and modern Italian cuisine cannot be conceived
without tomatoes introduced from the New World. But in January
last year an Italian city – Lucca in Tuscany – shot
to global prominence with a bizarre form of food protectionism.
The municipal government announced a ban on kebab shops opening
inside the city walls, the area of town commonly referred to
as the historical center (citta vecchio). After a vigorous debate
(the Italian’s hunger for debate remains unmatched), the
motion passed with a large majority.
The
rationale for such an unusual measure was “to protect
[our] culinary tradition and the architectural, structural,
cultural, historic and decorative characteristics” from
“food and beverage establishments whose activity could
be sourced to other ethnic groups.”
In
subsequent elucidations on the measure, kebab shops and Chinese
fast-food outlets were singled out as prime spoilers of the
city’s ancient beauty. The ban became the talk of the
country: As the media covered every angle of the groundbreaking
decision and its consequences, Facebook groups rapidly formed,
both for and against kebab shops in ancient towns. People updated
their profiles, either exhorting friends to go and eat a kebab,
preferably downtown, or praising the protection of true ‘Italianity’
against interlopers. Soon, other municipalities followed Lucca’s
lead, prompting an anti-kebab backlash from Rome to Venice and
Milan to Pisa.
But
that was not the end of it. In April of this year, the city
of Florence decided that it, too, would no longer grant permits
for “cheap eateries” to open in the areas of town
best known for their artistic beauty. Another alien cuisine
came under municipalities’ watchful eye: curries. With
these too deemed threatening to Italian culture, Indian restaurants
face hurdles in gaining licenses to open in city centers.
This
attack against the corrupting influence of exotic gastronomy
is not limited to what can be easily purchased from restaurants
and shops. Less than two years ago, Mayor Gianni Alemanno of
Rome announced that public preschools and primary schools could
no longer be allowed to serve couscous or Chinese fried rice,
which had to be substituted with “regional cuisine dishes.”
Some
called it “gastronomic patriotism,” and while the
majority of the press scorned the measure, the most conservative
municipalities in Italy hurried to adopt the ban for themselves.
The latest version comes from the northern city of Cremona,
where administrators announced this April that the daily 3,600
meals served by public schools to young children would no longer
include couscous, substituting local dishes like polenta --
made out of corn, an import from the Americas (not that the
gastro-patriots seem to mind), – or pasta, the origins
of which, though disputed, could be in ancient Persia or China,
and some of which today is made with imported wheat.
Increasing
cultural disquiet has delivered electoral success to a growing
number of populists, who spew forth outlandish ideas on how
to protect the identities of Italian cities. The zealots no
longer limit themselves to “gastro patriotism,”
but frown on classrooms with more than 30 percent non-Italian
students, and shop signs in languages not from the European
Union.
Posting
shop signs without an Italian translation is already a finable
offence, with penalties ranging from €25 to €500,
but in the latest round of parliamentary discussions on regulating
shops and commerce, a parliament member belonging to the Northern
League proposed a law that would limit shop signs to Italian,
EU languages or local Italian dialects. Discussion centered
on Chinese, Arabic, Urdu and Albanian shops, suggesting the
signs violated the character of Italian streetscapes. Since
defeated in parliament, Silvana Comaroli has vowed to take the
proposal to the individual municipalities, which under Italian
law can decide locally on matters of this nature.
The
Italian parliament is also mulling over ban on wearing the full
Islamic veil in public, similar to the controversial measure
adopted in France. Other recent points of conflict range from
opposition to construction of mosques, to the requirement of
a crucifix in every classroom and hospital ward, even though
Italy does not have an official religion. On the crucifix mandate,
Italy has already been reprimanded once by the European Court
in Strasbourg, which will rule on Italy’s appeal on the
matter in June.
Italy
prepares to celebrate its 150th anniversary of reunification
next year. But the nation, long a country of emigrants, has
still not accustomed itself to its modern role as a wealthy
nation, capable of attracting hundreds of thousands of badly
needed immigrant workers. Already, more than 5 million recent
immigrants – the greatest numbers coming from Romania,
Albania, Morocco and China – call Italy home. Struggling
to adjust to this change and fearful about losing what’s
already a shaky sense of identity, some Italians have gone from
grumbling about McDonalds in city centers, sulkily accepted
in recent decades, to legislating against kebab shops and couscous
in school canteens. Globalization unexpectedly means more than
Americanization.
But
lest voters forget, this agonizing over newly arrived ethnic
food versus traditional cuisine remains a distraction from Italy’s
most pressing issue: its struggling, indebted economy. High
blue-collar unemployment goes hand in hand with a dearth of
local workers willing to accept work as hospital nurses, domestic
help and other posts, while a burdensome bureaucracy and an
excessively regulated labor market severely limit economic dynamism.
Unable to address some of the more structural flaws of its system,
Italy adopts controversial anti-foreign measures in a futile
attempt to prevent change and assuage its own anxiety.
Related
articles:
Tolerance
Misplaced
Situating
Honorcide
Letter
to a Muslim - Tariq Ali
Virus
of Immigrantitis
Female
Genital Mutilation
Phyllis
Chesler: Secular Islam on the Rise
Ayaan Hirsi Ali Interview
Reprinted
with permission from YaleGlobal Online
www.yaleglobal.yale.edu
(c) 2009 Yale Center for the Study of Globalization.
