On Ninety years after the founding of the PCI is open to Rome, a beautiful exhibition. I went to see her and I was moved.
is so: and ends that I can never completely get rid of the baggage of the questions. Rather, the doors behind me, clinging like a second skin.
willy-nilly, because my path now is also the mirror of my past. It is a pity that my past is not good if they're the places where it should be, as an old dog that you have taken on a life and time does not move from his bed.
Here, one of the questions that I rummaged about in the sense of my political journey. I and millions and millions of people with me over the years, decades, have grown enormous hope - com'altro call? - Crystallized in a period that contained instead a nightmare for others.
one word: communism.
Yes, I know that today is not particularly fashionable to say, if not in form dell'abiura.
But I tell you: once, a while ago, I was a communist.
I was born into a family Communist, I attended a Communist party school, I was a militant communist, communist mayor of Cortona, in Tuscany Communist alderman ... As a young man I have distributed thousands of leaflets. I spent whole nights in discussions, until the eyes are not closed with fatigue and excess tobacco. I have participated in conferences and meetings, and active management, meetings and parties section of Unity, and so on, as indeed, so much so that now if I look back my life I feel a river of words in the middle ... I've been to years in the Central Committee of the PCI. I met men who made history in this country. Men like Enrico Berlinguer. I even met Gorbachev.
I studied I talked, I joked, I squabble and then I reconciled a communist.
And then what happened?
Or even worse: now what?
not to say that I speak only of the moral and human misery in which Berlusconi has dragged my country, is obvious.
And this is not the past that I can dismiss with elegantly a new card, a new membership. I could do it, I should do it, but not enough.
Because here there is life in dance: my life.
My life and, together, a huge tragedy: that of the countries that have been crossed, or rather rolled, from that socialism "real" so cruelly different from the socialism of my dreams.
Behold, this was a good reason to go and write books.
From the rubble of the Berlin Wall to the East Europe and then to Asia. And then again from today's China, hammer and sickle and rampant capitalism, to the Balkans in the confrontation of peoples and religions.
A trip back in search of traces of past failures and disappointments of the great communist utopia
But the journey of those who, for years, in the age of conflict he believed that in that utopia lurking freedom and democracy, justice with equality.
The journey is underway, but in my luggage is entirely the great experience I've spent in the PCI. A large national Democratic Party and that had nothing to do with the tragedies of communism, but his silence and, for too many years, the lack of courage, have swept in his failure.
Communism has failed, all right: and then?
The reasons that have fueled the communism and that communism has reduced wrongly, is that no longer exist. Bobbio said it well in 1989, with the rubble of the Berlin Wall still smoking.
"Democracy has won the historical challenge of communism let's face it. But by what means and what ideals you have to face the same problems from which she was born the common challenge? Now that the barbarians do not exist anymore what will become of us without barbarians? "
Already: What will become of us?
's been more than twenty years and this question does not yet have an answer.
I do not have an answer in this Italy property and unjust. Where young people was stolen in the future, where an old man suffering from compulsive satyriasis, surrounded by a court of pimps and pimps, screaming against the judiciary and hides the real country behind the shame of his partying and his lies.
But I am very aware that not even an exhortation has lost its relevance. Again, in the words of Bertolt Brecht:
"Change the world, you need it."
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