The fanatics of our tribes

After Trump, who was elected to end all wars and then started one every day; after the German Nazis who are against gay people, immigrants and foreigners, and whose leader is a lesbian, has a girlfriend from Sri Lanka and lives in Switzerland; after Meloni, who used to make a fuss about high petrol prices, and now we have ‘Verde’ petrol that costs as much as Brunello di Montalcino, Fantozzi began to think that his bosses were taking the mickey out of him.

We have already discussed the German Nazis’ blue moped – the one on which Ulrich Siegmund, the victor in Saxony-Anhalt, made his triumphant appearance at the elections. To reassure ourselves, we remind ourselves that it is a region roughly the size of Milan, with two million inhabitants and a population that is elderly by their standards – the average age is 48 (which, to us, is akin to a group of students who have just failed their exams at the Polytechnic) – yet this moped business is certainly peculiar.

The Nazi Lambretta is a major joke of our times: it was, in fact, the symbol of the GDR, and those Germans went on and on for years about wanting to get out of the GDR, yet now they’d love nothing more than to go back (perhaps like those who flee Milan in search of ‘southern working’ and then have second thoughts). And the Nazis are winning the elections on this very issue.

And yet nobody, seeing the Nazi on his communist moped, stops and says: ‘Excuse me, Nazi mate, let me get this straight for a moment.’ And then there’s the whole ‘Nazis’ thing. The Fantozzi in me simply cannot understand how Putin wants to exterminate the Ukrainians on the grounds that they are Nazis, whilst at the same time Moscow congratulates the German Nazis (even as the leader of the German Nazis claims that Hitler was actually a communist!). ‘Not exactly a communist…’, the editor-in-chief might remark. Fantozzi is more confused than ever and does not even have a comrade Folagra to advise him.

I had convinced myself that it was a problem confined to the right, who would swallow anything: on the right, as we know, they are somewhat ignorant, in short, the Bonaccini theorem, whilst we good people on the left have ruined our lives sorting recycling, marching for every possible cause, splitting hairs and thus making ourselves hated, with all our worries – or rather ‘bias’, as they say in Milan and perhaps even in Saxony-Anhalt – whilst those on the right stayed at home watching Mediaset and Colpo Grosso. The result is that we are exhausted – or rather, as they say these days in Saxony-Anhalt, we have ‘burnout’ – while the others are as fresh as a daisy.

Subsequent research revealed an extensive body of literature on the subject. In a 2017 study, Dan Kahan of Yale presented data on a skin cream and comparable data on the effects of gun control on Americans. The analysis showed that, regarding the cream, those strongest in mathematics performed better. When it came to guns, those best at maths were more confused. Rather than the ‘Bonaccini Theory’, it is ‘identity-protective cognition’. Bias wins out. It is, says the study, ‘the tragedy of the commons in scientific communication’; that is, if I think the opposite of those I work, live and eat with, I immediately pay the price in ‘loss of trust amongst peers’ and ‘stigmatisation within my own community’. In short, despite having fibre broadband and electric cars, we still live in tribes.

We are in a new tribal era, and we have nothing to wear. The new tribes are characterised by new symbols, which are everywhere: if you have a slice of watermelon on your social media profile, you’re pro-Pal, and you generally won’t speak to anyone with a Ukrainian flag; the person with a certain symbol won’t speak to anyone; the one with ten followers is a Russian bot and will therefore be against the Ukrainian fascists. Then social media becomes reality: Trump with his caps, Mamdani with his pins, but even in Milan there’s a candidate, Lorenzo Pacini, who preaches ‘municipal socialism’ and organises ‘neighbourhood watermelon parties’; another potential right-wing candidate, Roberto Parodi, aka ‘il Parods’, drives an old light blue diesel Range Rover nicknamed ‘il naftone’, symbolising his opposition to the left’s ‘green’ agenda. ‘Il naftone’ is the Yuppie version of the Simson moped (evoking nostalgia for Vanzina rather than the GDR).

However, the two candidates—although it remains uncertain whether they will actually stand—appear to be virtually interchangeable; they even resemble each other in appearance, Both are impeccably dressed, and Pacini might one day pull out a zero-emission SUV, just like that, out of the blue, claiming – I’m making this up – that he’s against Elon Musk’s techno-fascist lobby, whilst Parodi might turn up on an electric scooter, a symbol of the much-hated ‘green’ movement, arguing (insert random justification here). The fact is that everything remains undefined and resembles something else, and at the same time nobody tries to convince anyone else any more (unless they’re already convinced).

Further scientific experiments on neo-tribalism: a psychologist named Geoffrey Cohen asked a group of Americans to read two opposing welfare reform proposals: one extremely generous, offering eight hundred dollars a month, and one meagre, offering two hundred and fifty. The only difference was the label: this one was proposed by the Democrats, the other by the Republicans. The result: the Democrats approved both, provided they were ‘in line with their views’. The Republicans did the opposite. However, nobody admits this; instead, everyone explains that they assessed ‘the details of the measure’ and ‘their own personal philosophy’.

In short, the problem isn’t communication (when things go wrong, people always bring up ‘aaa communication’, as they say in Rome). It’s not the medium, nor the message: it’s the sender. It’s who says it that matters, not what they say; even though we’re all absolutely convinced of the opposite. Once again, there was no need to go to Yale; all you had to do was get to Monteverde, Rome. It’s the Ranucci method. This approach should not be confused with the ‘Report’ method: the one that for years kept audiences glued to their sofas with thriller music playing in the background, watching unsuspecting individuals who still fell for it, disclosing all sorts of information ‘off the record’ to someone on the phone, or filmed from a hundred metres away in a bar using a zoom lens, and then ending up on late-night television with a Kubrick-style montage.

The Ranucci method, on the other hand, is something else entirely; I have experienced it first-hand, speaking to people who clearly operate on a different set of rules. Whilst the story was unfolding – involving Lavitola, the Cefalù Bistrò, and the whole affair centred on Alberto Sordi, a story that, amongst those in my professional circle, was mostly commented on with a smile, given the Italian-comedy element that emerged from that den of moralists; but when you switched circles and spoke to people who were also intelligent, yet had a different icon on their profile – Ranucci – they would all immediately tell you, in all seriousness, ‘he’s clearly the victim of a conspiracy’. And they’d say this out of concern for you, as if to ask, ‘What, didn’t you know? I thought you were so clever.’ And so you could stand there, explaining, reminding them, showing them articles, but to no avail; they were only ever more convinced.

Confronted with a conspiracy theory—much like when faced with bucatino pasta—one simply gives in. The conspiracy theory is the third pillar, following the end of relativism and the new absolutism we are experiencing. The conspiracy theory comes into play when reality simply cannot be bent in any way whatsoever: one stumbles upon a tediously solid fact that simply proves one wrong. At that point magical thinking comes into play; it does not deny the fact — on the contrary, the conspiracy clings tightly to the fact, revels in it, capitalises on it! — but instead changes who is behind it. Not ‘it didn’t happen’, but ‘it happened because someone wanted it to happen’. The more things don’t add up, the better. The opposite of Occam’s razor. If the newspaper says it isn’t true, it’s obvious they’d say so. If nobody says it, it’s because they’re hiding it. They’re not telling us!

According to this logic, the United States allegedly brought down the Twin Towers alone; in Ukraine, the Russians are not genuinely involved—it is all a NATO provocation; and on 7 October, they were fully aware of what was happening and permitted it. Vaccines? That topic is best left untouched. The phenomenon is bipartisan: everyone has their own theory, yet no one ever acknowledges their own—the conspiracy theorist is always the other person.

Conspiracy theories span a diverse and intricate spectrum, ranging from the global to the hyper-local; it is unlikely that anyone will ever convince those who believe there are numerous new trees in Rome, even as they observe healthy specimens being felled with chainsaws and cannot fathom the reason why. To those who admire Claudia Conte, Piantedosi’s mythical friend who has emerged unscathed from it all, it will seem perfectly logical and natural that Claudia Conte has reappeared on the red carpet at the Venice Film Festival (to present a brand-new Conegliano Film Festival – ‘Colline del Prosecco’; Alberto Sordi, where are you?). As for the trees, there is already an explanation: it is not that, as I believe, those responsible for managing them do not know how to do their job; rather, they are cutting them down because they interfere with 5G. Conspiracy theories, in this new tribalism, are fundamental. Thinking things through, after all, takes effort; changing your mind alienates you from the tribe; a conspiracy theory, on the other hand, costs nothing, and what’s more, it rewards you with the satisfaction of being in the know.

Of course, newspapers matter too – and here the democratic professor in me would very much like to blame the crisis, the end of those publications where on one page you’d read something you expected and on the next something different, and then even something you didn’t agree with. There was no ‘tab’ asking you: ‘Are you interested in this article? Are you seeing too many adverts of this sort?’ Nor was there an algorithm whereby, if you dropped your phone and Instagram accidentally opened on a post about pythons, you’d see nothing but pythons for months afterwards.

However, even here, the search function undermines the nostalgic effect. A study (yet another one!) from Oxford has calculated that those who access news via social media, search engines or news aggregators have a more varied information diet than those who go straight to their newspaper’s website. This means that the very serious gentleman, whether from Milan or Saxony, who every morning – whether from his Range Rover or his scooter – opens only the homepage of his favourite newspaper is more ‘in a bubble’ than the person whose phone fell onto the pythons. In 2023, three studies published in Science and Nature attempted to remove the algorithm from a group of Americans for three months during an election campaign: feeds in chronological order, no reposted content, fewer like-minded friends. The only result was that the content they saw changed, but not their underlying beliefs. In short, the tribe is the structure; the algorithm is the superstructure. The tribe was already there; the feed simply serves it up to us, setting the table. We sat down at the table already foolish.

Perhaps it was already like this in Sordi’s day, and even back then there were certainly those who hated him: apart from the fact that I never met any of them, perhaps they kept quiet and didn’t comment on social media. And besides, if you didn’t like Sordi, there wasn’t much else you could do apart from not going to see his films. You couldn’t listen to a podcast about Sordi-phobia.

One person who did not like him was Nanni Moretti — “You deserve Alberto Sordi,” says Michele Apicella in Ecce bombo (1978) — who was one of the first trailblazers without an algorithm. Moretti has recently returned to Venice with a film about which the reviews leave readers wondering whether it is brilliant or a load of rubbish, because, as Andrea Minuz wrote here in Il Foglio, his true masterpiece is having terrified the critics — all of them terrified that if you write badly, he’ll actually turn up, emerging from the film like in Rosa purpurea del Cairo, to give you a good thrashing (In the meantime, it did happen: a man on his mobile was told off, in the cinema, whilst the film was screening, by the real Moretti). Even so, those who like Moretti will find him marvellous, legendary, always the same and always new; and even being told off by Nanni will amount to an extraordinary experience – forget IMAX. As Nanni intended.

And what of Jasmine Trinca, declaring herself an anti-capitalist whilst wearing that now-famous €1,100 Prada T-shirt? Just background noise, which won’t even reach the ears of her own supporters. The battle cry of the ‘Jasmintrinchists’ drowns it out. The democratic teacher in me insists. The blame, it is argued, lies with the newspaper crisis. In the meantime, journalists have left the newspapers and are now increasingly active on stage, becoming ever more like gurus and spiritual leaders; and the public, who would never set foot in a newsagent’s, flock to drink in the wisdom of the stage-bound reporter. Travaglio has been on tour since 2009, more successfully than Taylor Swift, with twenty-five shows this year, most of which were sold out; Stefano Nazzi and Pablo Trincia do around sixty dates a year, and Trincia now describes his profession as a ‘crossover’. And Ranucci? He’s booked right through to April. Meanwhile, in Italy, trust in the news stands at 32 per cent – an all-time low – and the proportion of those declaring a strong interest in the news has fallen to 34 per cent, down from 74 per cent in 2016. Forty points in ten years: news, move over, let me see the journalist!

This should come as no surprise: today’s tribes have an oral culture. And orality presupposes a certain duration and endurance, which are not infinite. Whilst the medium of the written culture from which we come was the book, we are now in the age of the podcast. The new contemporary warrior listens to them mainly at the gym; indeed, one notices more and more muscular people around, increasingly full of unshakeable opinions. It is unlikely that, having completed sit-ups while listening to a pro-Ukraine podcast, one would then proceed with forty minutes of cardio while hearing a programme extolling the virtues of Putin. Such ‘equal treatment’ in the podcast world could be enough to provoke a heart attack.

The contemporary male in his thirties or forties is notably enthusiastic about ETFs. These financial instruments have become a popular topic of conversation (some commentators even suggest that this focus could be a sign of societal decline). When a group of heterosexual men meet for dinner, conversation may briefly touch on football or cars, then shift to podcasts and eventually to ETFs. This represents a notable shift: in the past, investment funds were discussed only at gatherings of bankers and would-be ‘Car Carlo Pravettoni’ types. Here too, dialogue is impossible: if you mention Jasmine Trinca to an ETF warrior, they won’t understand you. And what about ‘woke’? Half the world thinks we’re dominated by it; the other half thinks it never existed. The debate between ‘woke’ advocates and anti-‘woke’ professionals is worse than impossible – it’s pointless.

While we await the possible conclusion of this tribal era—which could leave humanity the way of the dinosaurs, whether due to an epoch-making cause such as climate change, AI running amok, or men who only mate with ETFs—the preeminent figure of the tribal era, Trump, continues to declare that if he wins the election, he will give five thousand dollars to every American. Analysts are now explaining to him that such a plan would be illegal and, even if feasible, would cost 1.2 trillion dollars; however, these arguments appear to be having little effect. The figure of five thousand is not a precise policy detail; it is a rallying cry, an ‘augh’. Trump is truly the tribal chief, Trump who believes his opponents are all extremists, all ‘communists’ (except for his North Korean friend – in that case, it is fine). Another study—the last one, I swear: there’s an American institute that has found that Republicans and Democrats estimate that more than half of their opponents hold extreme views, when in reality it’s less than a third. Will we get through this? Will we manage to talk to each other again? But then, as that genius used to say: you and me, Aboriginal, but what are we supposed to say?