THE GOOD ITALIAN: THE RISE OF POPULISM IN ITALY AND BEYOND
“If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?”
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago
Sabaudia, Italy
August, 2019
What happens when you allow rising wealth inequality to fester for forty years, add in spiralling unemployment, distance politicians from people in layers of bureaucracy, throw in a legacy of political corruption and then whip up a social media storm about waves of invading African immigrants? It seems that Matteo Salvini, Italy’s populist-in-chief, is what you get.
At a rally in the seaside town of Sabaudia, Salvini bounds up onto the stage, full of rock-star zeal. Sleeves rolled up, rosary in hand, the ‘man of the people’ speaks. He works the crowd with emotive topics ranging from job-stealing multinational corporations and immigrants, to religion, national pride and family values. As the spectators around us mutter and nod in agreement, we can actually feel the group mentality washing over us and independent thought slipping away. It’s a powerful force, one that plays on our oldest instincts of belonging. But as the night wears on, the atmosphere turns more ominous and we snap out of it as one by one, immigrants, Roma, homosexuals and intellectuals are explicitly singled out as the target of derogation. Salvini often proclaims to his critics that, ‘we are not fascists, we are just good Italians’. Clearly though, not everyone here is considered a good Italian.
Populist parties on both the left and the right have made increasing gains not just in Europe, but also in India, Mexico, Venezuela, Brazil, the Philippines, Turkey and the US. Some could be said to be more dangerous than others, but one thing they all share is their tendency to promise simplistic solutions to complex societal problems. So just what is populism, and what drives it as a political force?
Politics is emotive stuff. Some of us might equate emotions with irrationality, but they are an integral part of our survival apparatus, designed to help us respond effectively to threats in our environment. Not being the fastest or strongest mammals in the animal kingdom, safety in numbers and social coordination was historically our best chance of avoiding being eaten. Ostracisation then, for most of our time on this planet, was not good for life expectancy, and our emotional responses are geared towards this fact, even today. No matter how ‘smart’ we think we are, our older biology still calls most of the shots. Contemporary neuroscience shows us that when confronted by threats – including, and for humans perhaps especially, that of social exclusion – the amygdala overpowers our prefrontal cortex and our ability to think rationally is hijacked in favour of short-term gains and simplistic either/or reactions. Useful in the savanna when fleeing from predators. Not so useful in trying to work out collective solutions to curb global carbon emissions.
The most successful populists are masters at creating a strong and uncomplicated sense of collective identity and belonging, not only by forging a cohesive narrative about who we are, but also, by necessity, deploying an equally strong narrative of who we are not. In the terminology of Swiss psychologist Carl Jung, populist politicians are adept at playing on the collective psyche’s fear of its ‘shadow’, or repressed identities – be that marginalised groups such as migrants, or elites such as the rich and the powerful. In short, the politician who understands the affective, or emotional nature of politics will often have the edge over those who think they can win over voters with facts, data and ‘objective’ truths. Advertisers, inspired by the ideas of another famous psychoanalyst, Sigmund Freud, have long understood this and populism is in many ways merely the political embodiment of the same idea. While we may believe ourselves to be rational thinkers most of the time, in reality, the limbic system – the area of the brain most implicated in emotional regulation – is older, faster and more powerful than that which deals with any attempts at objectivity.
Useful as it is as a tool for the aspiring populist, fear-based binary thinking rarely makes for smart politics though. Add to this a system of electoral democracy that is entirely constructed around the antagonistic dichotomies of party politics – one that positively thrives on fear and good guys/bad guys narratives – and you can start to get at least a partial sense of how we got into this mess. Indeed it seems that whether you’re optimistic or cynical about humanity, both approaches suggest similar conclusions about the need to make democracy more inclusive. For the optimist, keeping politics closed means we miss out on the potential of the greater population and our collective intelligence. For the cynic, our human fallibility means we’re better off spreading the risk and not concentrating power in the hands of too few. The ‘myth of the rational voter’ is used by critics of democracy to argue for restricting the popular input of ‘the mob’, but we could equally argue that the myth of the rational politician is just as fitting. We’re all human after all.
Is then our current model representative democracy really a happy compromise, or does it instead combine the worst elements of anarchy and tyranny together? There’s no easy answer, but if this logic has something to it, then so does the idea that populism (as opposed to genuine popular – meaning inclusive – politics), is far more than a temporary glitch in representative democracy. It’s built into its very fabric. Elections and ‘us versus them’ party politics play to our emotions far more than our rational brains. Matteo Salvini and other populists are simply playing the game better than others.
Genuine democracy doesn’t make grand promises, nor does it seek to charm or seduce. Compared to populist politics, it’s a pretty unsexy affair, and it’s hard work. You might well ask who would want to accept the boring and onerous responsibilities of truly democratic decision making, compromise and deliberation, and the shouldering of responsibility, as opposed to the instant gratification provided by a demagogue. But for some, the benefits of collaboration and ‘both/and’ thinking are worth it. In stark contrast to Salvini’s us versus them rhetoric, the small Calabrian village of Camini in Italy’s least developed region has tackled the immigration ‘crisis’ with principles of community, solidarity and inclusion – both of the opinions of the new arrivals and existing local residents. Pino Alfarano, Mayor of Camini explains the challenges and benefits of his community’s approach to refugee integration. Could such an approach be adopted at the national, or even European level?
Despite the optimism emerging from communities like that of Camini, challenges for democracy in times of economic, political and social polarisation remain. Taking our deeper cognitive psychology into account, we can see that the sense of segregation and separation engendered by the rampant inequality emerging in Europe and elsewhere makes for poor decision-making not just among the have-nots, but also the haves. Those without power fear for their survival, and those in power fear losing it at the risk of re-joining the very fight for survival they have created. It’s the classic game of in-group/out-group that plays on our deepest human insecurities. Everyone is seemingly climbing over each other to get to safety at the top of a ladder that only exists because we think we need to climb over each other to be safe. It would almost be funny, if it wasn’t so tragic.
As we leave Italy, Salvini makes an ill-fated power grab. He fails, but only just. Nonetheless, the question must be asked – what happens to liberal democracy when a right-wing populist wins?