A country with a mission statement

It’s an enormous advantage for a country, as it is for an individual, to have a cohesive sense of itself, especially if there’s some set of representative values around which citizens can coalesce when times are hard. Pre-eminent examples of this phenomenon would be France and the United States: both born of revolutions at around the same time, and both profoundly attached to the notion of “liberty” – though with interestingly different connotations; for the French it’s inseparable from equality and social justice, while for the Americans it means above all untrammeled individual self-expression and self-development.

Of course the existence of this sort of national mission statement in no way eliminates bitter, even fratricidal and sororicidal conflict over its translation into social and political reality, but a country without a mission statement that also lacks a unitary ethnic identity can very easily fall apart altogether. Belgium, like so many other countries a by-product of war and of the dissolution of empires, is an example – and one need only look to Africa to find many other similar ill-contrived ethnic mash-ups, arbitrarily carved up by departing colonial administrators.

But there are some countries that don’t fit neatly into either of these categories, and Italy, where I’m currently on vacation, is one of the most interesting, attractive and compelling ones. Even the origins of the modern state are a matter of controversy: a sort of revolution against the various colonial, ex-colonial and quasi-colonial powers then ruling over Italy’s regions which morphed into an effective take-over by the rulers of the North-Western region of Piemonte. The cultural and ethnic coherence of the country is also a matter of debate – economic development and income levels are very uneven, and until fairly recently a majority of citizens spoke one of the many mutually unintelligible dialects at home rather than standard Italian. And in recent years a political party has emerged in the North which argues for the separation of Italy into two States, North and South; far from being a despised minority of head-banging extremists, these people are actually in government, as a key element in Berlusconi’s coalition.

The question of what Italy stands for and what it represents has become one of great importance and centrality; it is after all one of the world’s leading industrial powers and a member of the G7, and this commercial success has ensured until recently a good standard of living for most citizens and high levels of investment in public transportation, health and other services. In recent years, however, as Italy’s predominately small and medium-sized businesses have been seriously challenged by lower-cost competitors from Eastern Europe and Asia, economic growth has fallen to well below the levels of its European neighbours – and an ineffectual and dishonest government which is tolerated by some and profoundly detested by many others has done nothing to improve national morale. Living standards for the majority are steadily falling, as the individual and collective wealth built up over the past 50 years is slowly dilapidated, and jobs become scarcer and scarcer: large numbers of people in their 30s still live with their parents, unable to find permanent jobs well enough paid to buy or rent their own homes.

So Italy poses in a particularly acute form the question which we all face at the moment, irrespective of the rate of economic growth where we happen to live – is economic growth really all that nationhood and government are about? Italy offers an alternative answer to the question, blessed as it is with a unique and precious cultural heritage, exceptionally beautiful landscapes and a near-perfect climate (all of them significantly damaged by the breakneck race for growth of the past 60 years). We’ve all of us become blind to the beauty that surrounds us, prepared to destroy the heritage of centuries or millennia in exchange for a few more gadgets, another tank full of gas, a more powerful air-conditioner. Like all addictions, it’s unsustainable but also unstoppable – and the profits which this addiction gifts to huge corporations add an additional layer of compulsiveness and apparent inevitability. When the process starts to unwind, or stops altogether – what’s left? If you’re fortunate enough to live in Italy, a lot is left – everything that really matters, in fact – for those who have the eyes to see and the heart to love.

Perhaps a new Renaissance could emerge from this troubled country, a movement affirming the values of natural and created beauty and human love, friendship and solidarity, bringing light to a world which has lost its way; there are perhaps enough people here who believe it, and enough of a heritage to support it. That would be a mission worth following.