The accusations of "collaboration" levelled at the presenters of "Report" – a perfect example of the most narrow-minded journalism

In history, ‘collaborators’ are those who chose to support the Nazi occupation of their countries for personal gain – people who actively and unquestioningly coexisted with the horror, the dishonour and the suffering of the resistance fighters and the persecuted. "Collaborators" is the accusation that sensationalist journalism—for that is what it is—levies in threatening tones at members of the "Report" journalism team who have declared themselves willing to continue the programme’s work without Sigfrido Ranucci, who has been suitably reassigned to new heights of egotistical narcissism, the ‘Duce of Investigative Journalism’ who has fallen into the clutches of a famous elephant hunter in Zimbabwe and a restaurateur in Monteverde, Rome – the man who, before taking it out on the elephants to ride on their backs, had organised a political poll for the entry into politics of the ‘Super-presenter’ and ‘Super-seducer’ of female interns, complete with a staged bomb attack. A rather peculiar safari, that one in Pomezia, hard to swallow as the summer-time plot of a wholesome and vigorous professional friendship between the good Ranucci and the excellent Lavitola, even for the ‘tough guys’ at Rai – who aren’t tough at all – but in the end, backed by the evidence of the untenable, they have decided to entrust the running of the censorship circus—managed until yesterday by the censor himself—to two young journalists from within the company and the programme, Giulia Presutti and Daniele Piervincenzi. They are the two ‘kapos’, according to the gentle definition used by the daily Safari, who will end up literally squeezed dry and then thrown in the bin by the Nazis of Viale Mazzini.

This manner of reasoning in public—labelling and insulting individuals, intimidating them, dehumanising them as well as undermining their professionalism—casts a new light on Danilo Toninelli’s psychiatric outburst, in which he asked Ranucci—and ought to ask his own lamentable bard—to look within themselves to find the strength to free themselves from this mental infection. We may well be living in the worst of all possible worlds, unlike in Candide, but the bard of the prison and the handcuffs—who in this imaginary world poses as a moralist of the gallows against Hitler’s lackeys—has found a habitat of comfortable realism. On the other hand, this individual is one who despises the investigating magistrate Giovanni Falcone, many decades after the ‘assassins’ who got him out of the way, following the punitive attack by his little friends that had struck him down in the competition for the post of investigating magistrate in Palermo, because he had worked in the Criminal Affairs Department under Giulio Andreotti’s government. The root of the grotesque affliction afflicting these singers at Ingroia’s political wedding – ready to sing at the Ranucci-Lavitola, and to sing the blues against the international hero of the true anti-Mafia movement – for this is their notion of what constitutes politics and moral issues – lies in the fact that history does indeed need to be rewritten, as they demanded when they were working to replace democratic institutions with judicial coup-mongering, but it must be rewritten not to attack the parties of the First Republic and their leaders—who destroyed the Mafia—but rather to deal with those who, through the antics of the Nazi collaborator Rai, defile those few ordinary people who are reluctant to sink into the recently uncovered cesspit of the world’s most obtuse, partisan and politically ambiguous journalism.