We might discuss the ideas the day after tomorrow. A blind review of Silvia Salis’s book

Silvia Salis has written a book, “E’ già domani”, to be published by Feltrinelli. I have not yet read it. This necessary preface may even be an advantage: one can form an idea of a political book by examining the author’s track record. And by asking not what it contains, but what it would be expedient to write in it. In Salis’s case, it could be the autobiography of someone who recounts where she comes from without explaining too much about where she intends to go.

I envisage stories about hard work, discipline, sport as a school of life, and the young woman who learns to throw the hammer and discovers that obstacles can be overcome through hard work. A respectable background and a past not forged in the corridors of party politics. I also envisage Genoa, listening to people, the neighbourhoods, and the beauty of getting your hands dirty. Each episode will perhaps be an invitation to believe that change is possible. It is less likely that we will find anyone who has to give something up for it to happen.

The point is not the biography but the geometry. Salis must appear left-wing enough to appeal to the left, centrist enough not to alarm the centre, new enough not to belong to any particular faction, and experienced enough not to seem like a last-minute choice. Reformist without sounding technocratic, popular without becoming populist, civic-minded without appearing apolitical. In sport, this would be called discipline. In politics, it’s called positioning. “The challenge is to convince everyone that you have clear ideas, whilst managing not to spell them out.” I imagine there are many words we can all agree on: opportunity, rights, merit, inclusion, security, freedom, the future. None of them are wrong, but they could all feature in a rally by Elly Schlein, a speech by Paolo Gentiloni or a conference of business leaders. The real test is understanding what they mean when they come into conflict: employment versus the needs of businesses, the environment versus the need to build homes, security versus mistrust of the authorities, and public services versus a shortage of resources. There is no doubt that Silvia Salis has opinions. The question is whether this is the right book to discover them.

Art, after all, is about being an ideal candidate without standing for election, speaking to a coalition without becoming its prisoner, offering a home to moderates without keeping progressives awake at night. This imaginary book does not bring a discussion to a close; it opens up a possibility. It does not spell out a programme; it broadens the scope. It does not name opponents; it sends out signals. It does not choose a leader; it suggests that, if someone were to insist, leadership might well emerge. It would be unfair to mistake all this for inconsistency. In a political climate where strong ideas are confused with loud shouting, seeking a reasonable tone is good news. Not turning every difference into a civil war is a virtue, not a flaw. But moderation, if it is to be more than just an elegant tactic to avoid losing votes, must become the ability to make choices, even when those choices come at a cost.

That is why the book I have not read interests me. It could be the manifesto of a new figure, capable of uniting without watering things down. Or it could be the manual for an old Italian temptation: to make people believe that simply avoiding difficult questions is enough to appear to be the most convincing answer. “It’s already tomorrow”, the title promises. Very well. All that remains is to work out what decisions we’re prepared to make today. But perhaps, for that, we’ll need the next book.

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