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Theory of General Infantilism

Protests that are (slightly) less violent – that’s good. But what a lot of Plaza de Mayo-style rhetoric

From glaziers expressing gratitude for the smashed shop windows to the manure piled up outside Turin City Hall, right through to mothers writing down their solicitor’s number on their children’s arms. The Interior Ministry’s preventative measures have worked, but there remains a certain rebellious childishness to contend with, which is also fostered by adults.

by
Maurizio Crippa
30 OCT 26
Translated by AI
Image of Protests that are (slightly) less violent – that’s good. But what a lot of Plaza de Mayo-style rhetoric

Photo: LaPresse

The demonstrations across Italy did not go particularly well in terms of public order, but they went much better than the Home Office had feared. The first reason is actually quite obvious – it’s Columbus’s egg: if you keep those 13-year-old troublemakers locked up at home with their frustrations, nobody’s going to smash shop windows. A bit of prevention, some checks, perhaps a few pre-emptive arrests, and security improves. But since, to paraphrase Lenin for the millionth time, infantilism is the extremist disease of protest culture, things did not go entirely smoothly. Starting with infantilism itself, precisely.
Take, for example, the young Lorenzo Pacini, an aspiring PD candidate in the Milan primaries with a platform that makes Mamdani and Mastella look like amateurs by comparison – and who is therefore a local hero in the city centre – who said on television: “The smashed shop windows? They’ve provided work for the glaziers.” Chaplin’s The Kid had already figured this out 105 years ago, but with a political awareness that made him look like Engels by comparison. Another noteworthy case of childish behaviour: the poo incident in Turin. A group of Savoyard rebels dumped manure in front of the town hall. Some time ago, it was the Askatasuna group who filled the editorial offices of La Stampa with dung. A fixation. One might say that Turin’s protesters have not yet moved beyond the anal stage, or coprolalia. There is also the childish behaviour of adults – or rather, of mothers.
In Bologna, the ‘anti-truncheon mums’ initiative was launched; they took to the streets with their little ones, dressed in red and carrying a banner reading ‘No to violence against our children’. One mum recounted, as if she were in Plaza de Mayo: ‘Before the demonstration on 24 October, I wrote the lawyer’s number on my son’s arm. I felt a shiver down my spine; I never thought I’d reach this point.” Her son was stopped for a routine check and immediately released: her dream of becoming the mother of a ‘desaparecido’ has been postponed until further notice. However, by constantly fostering rebellious childishness, by pampering it at home and at school, the results are becoming apparent. This is despite the all-too-zealous efforts of the police chiefs and the Home Office: to isolate the violent elements before they cause harm, to block infiltrators in the marches, to comb through social media, and even to monitor direct communication with the organisers of the marches.
The student demonstrations were the ones that gave the most cause for concern, but it turned out that certain trade union marches were no joke either. They circulated a list of rules to be followed: no hoods, no balaclavas and certainly no weapons. They even considered monitoring what might happen on Halloween night (here we go again with this childish behaviour, which often resurfaces). Yet common sense is of no use whatsoever in a country where mothers tattoo their solicitor’s number on their children’s arms. There is a young man in Turin (who knows why it is always Turin), more class-conscious than he is an idiot, who holds up a mirror to a police officer: ‘Is this what you wanted to become when you were little?’. If his teachers at the city centre secondary school, instead of defending him from a non-existent Gestapo, made him read Pasolini and Valle Giulia, perhaps this imbecile son of the well-to-do class might understand a little more.
Trade unions were also present in the streets, demonstrating their maturity. Members of the USB (Unione sindacale di base) in Milan blocked the Tangenziale Est ring road: the number of votes gained by the coalition backing the general strike can be calculated. A summary of the day: in Turin, there were various clashes and police charges; in Bologna, a motorway was blocked; in Rome, the situation was far worse, between Parliament and Ponte Sisto. The slogan of the student and trade union marches across Italy was: ‘Lay down your weapons, raise your wages’. Fine. But above all, raise the age at which one becomes – let’s not say an adult – but at least a sentient protester.

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Maurizio Crippa

"Maurizio Crippa, vicedirettore, è nato a Milano un 27 febbraio di rondini e primavera. Era il 1961. E’ cresciuto a Monza, la sua Heimat, ma da più di vent’anni è un orgoglioso milanese metropolitano. Ha fatto il liceo classico e si è laureato in Storia del cinema, il suo primo amore. Poi ci sono gli amori di una vita: l’Inter, la montagna, Jannacci e Neil Young. Lavora nella redazione di Milano e si occupa un po’ di tutto: di politica, quando può di cultura, quando vuole di chiesa. E’ felice di avere due grandi Papi, Francesco e Benedetto. Non ha scritto libri (“perché scrivere brutti libri nuovi quando ci sono ancora tanti libri vecchi belli da leggere?”, gli ha insegnato Sandro Fusina). Insegue da tempo il sogno di saper usare i social media, ma poi grazie a Dio si ravvede.

E' responsabile della pagina settimanale del Foglio GranMilano, scrive ogni giorno Contro Mastro Ciliegia sulla prima pagina. Ha una moglie, Emilia, e due figli, Giovanni e Francesco, che non sono più bambini"