Plugging the brain drain
Plus a tourist decalogo, and Bach in streaming
Easter in Italy is one of the many moments in the year when hedonism reigns supreme. Christ’s birthday is about private time with close kin. His supposed resurrection, though, is an excuse for real partying. There’s even a proverb to this effect, Natale con i tuoi, Pasqua con chi vuoi [Christmas with the folks; Easter with whoever you like], which does make me feel a little better about being separated from family for the second year running... In Florence, residents usually mark the occasion with the Scoppio del carro. This is a somewhat bizarre ritual in which the local clergy parade cows around the Duomo and set light to a giant and curiously oriental-looking cart. Despite the ongoing lockdown, the council is going ahead anyway and the explosion will be livestreamed on Sunday @ 11am CET. There are some other colourful traditions further south of course. In Chieti, in Abruzzo, 100 violinists play their annual ‘Miserere’ which the baroque composer Saverio Selecchy wrote in the 1700s. In Prizzi, near Palermo, the town’s men dress up as ‘devils’ and dance around playing ‘pranks’ on passers-by (which doesn’t sound that Christian to me). My favourite of all is the Vasa Vasa from the Sicilian town of Modica, in which local guilds lug two enormous models of Jesus and the Madonna around the streets. The crowd reaction when the mother and son finally meet [see 04.00 below] captures the essence of this festival better than words ever could.
There have been some really interesting pieces about Italy in the international media this week. The standout for me was this POLITICO feature by Stefania D'Ignoti which looks at Covid-19 and the possible reversal of the ‘brain drain.’ For readers unfamiliar with this term, Italians use ‘brain drain’ to refer to the mass of young people who have emigrated to wealthier nations like the UK and Germany since the 2008 financial crisis. Obviously, migration can be a good thing. The fact that this exodus was so vast, though, and that it was forced by the collapse of the labour market, is clearly a problem. Interestingly, according to D'Ignoti’s piece, many of these individuals are now returning as a direct and indirect consequence of Covid-19. Honestly, it’s hard to know if Italy is ready for this. The potential is undeniable though. If institutions can provide greater financial support for youth initiatives, particularly in poorer cities like Naples and Palermo, they might yet encourage these people to stay put and build lives here…
Another nugget of news caught my eye this week: local politicians in Florence and Venice have apparently drawn up a new manifesto for developing a better tourist industry. Some of the measures in the so-called ‘Decalogo’ (i.e. ‘ten commandments’) are encouraging. It would be hard, for example, to argue against the plan to regulate AirBnbs, and reign in on short-term rentals. Other proposals, though, like the apparent need to increase surveillance via ‘smart control rooms’, sound like a surefire waste of cash if you ask me. It’s a tale as old as time. Imagine, for example, if the local authorities actually used that money to invest in supporting the aforementioned youth or the growing migrant population instead of just pandering to reactionary pressure. Wouldn’t that be, err, a little more inspiring? The British Institute has recently recommended that councils could provide direct grants for those working in the ‘Knowledge Economy’ and ‘Green Tech’, which seems sensible. Five Hundred Years ago Machiavelli wrote that punitive measures should always be a last resort, and that successful governance always requires vision. Today’s politicians like to claim they are the inheritors of this kind of renaissance wisdom. I’m afraid, at the moment, that seems pompous at best.
Arts and culture: philhellenism or teutonophilia?
Last week my friend and ex-OpenDemocracy colleague Alex Sakalis published a fascinating overview of Greco-Italian relations in 19th Century which I highly recommend you take a look at. This is an unashamedly niche tale of cross-border Mediterranean solidarities. It takes in an astonishing range of figures, from swashbuckling social movements like the carbonari and Filiki Eteria to the work of poets like Giacomo Leopardi and Ugo Foscari. Sakalis argues that “Italy was probably the most philhellenic place outside of Greece itself” in the 1820s and home to “an overlapping network of secret societies buzzing with revolutionary fervour” that helped push back the Ottomans in the Peloponnese. The other side of this, of course, is that the Greek nationalist struggle was actually, in some respects, a prime mover for Italian unification itself. Either way, the two go hand in hand further than I’d previously realised, and Sakalis is a well-versed guide. My advice? Bookmark for breakfast and read over with a large coffee (and wikipedia on standby.)
Some good news for fans of classical music. Tomorrow evening (2 April) Ruben Jais and the Verdi symphony orchestra will be live-streaming their annual Good Friday performance of Bach’s St. John passion from Milan’s Duomo. The link is here, and all you need is a free account. By now Bach is a standard part of easter celebrations in Central and Northern Europe. But I do find it interesting that Italians, the same people who create such bombastic and rather kitsch spectacles in their piazzas, so enjoy gathering around this sombre music. It’s a good reminder that everyone has their own vision of Italian culture and none are exactly definitive. Just as I focus on Tuscany and Sicily, and Sakalis on the Adriatic, so many others are inspired by Milan and its north-facing capitalism. But that’s what’s so fascinating about Italy right? It really is a microcosm of Europe in a single country: the continent in a nation-state.
Recipe of the week: Crescia (Easter Cheese Bread)
This week’s recipe is barely known outside of its place of origin, Le Marche. It is, however, delicious. So I’m delighted to have a chance to publicise it a little. Crescia is basically a doughy take on the flavours that make cacio e pepe so wonderful: namely pecorino and black pepper. This might sound rather heavy, but I promise you it’s not. In fact, the result is airy and actually far easier on the stomach than you’d expect. Families usually gather round to nibble on this bread at the start of the Easter meal as part of an antipasto spread of cured meats (though that’s hardly mandatory). There aren’t many English language recipes out there, though Paola Bacchia has a decent one in her underrated book Adriatico that I’ve tried and tested. Based on the versions I’ve seen online, this looks and sounds the most authentic take on this pre-prandial indulgence.
That’s it for this week - as ever I do hope you enjoyed this instalment. If you haven’t already, please do follow the ‘Week in Italy’ Facebook page, or my twitter, for a few extra links and easy-access to the substack archive. If this email was forwarded to you, or you’re accessing on the web and would like to receive further updates, you can subscribe using this link below. Oh, and of course, buona pasqua a tutti!
About Me
My name is Jamie Mackay (@JacMackay) and I’m an author, editor and translator based in Florence. I’ve been writing about Italy for a decade for international media including The Guardian, The Economist, Frieze, and Art Review. I launched ‘The Week in Italy’ to share a more direct and regular overview of the debates and dilemmas, innovations and crises that sometimes pass under the radar of our overcrowded news feeds.
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