Ranucci’s epiphany on the path to the rule of law

The wild and chaotic summer of a thousand twists and turns – which, following a script that not even the most diabolical of screenwriters could have imagined, involved Italy’s most famous presenter, Sigfrido Ranucci – offers both mischievous and shrewd observers two different perspectives from which to navigate the most gripping coming-of-age story of the year. The first way of looking at it is through the lens of indignation. The second is through the lens of admiration. The lens of indignation leads us to focus on what does not add up in the relationship between Ranucci and Lavitola, on the unusual caution with which the Rome Public Prosecutor’s Office has chosen to proceed in monitoring the dealings between Ranucci and Lavitola, and on the absurd as well as ridiculous double standards generated by the champion of moralism, whose own story has turned him into a moralist. The second, inevitable perspective is one of profound admiration, which cannot fail to arise when faced with Ranucci’s extraordinary epiphany, achieved through a path far more evocative than Lavitola’s.

His ‘Damasco’ is not the Cefalù Bistrot. His ‘Damasco’ stands for the rule of law. And for this we must thank Ranucci – not for what he is doing for himself, but for us, for an entire country, for democracy, for the rule of law – with his definitive ten-point manifesto against the culture of mob justice, which, as far as we can recall, he has not helped to shape in Italy in recent years. A few notes and a brief summary that may prove useful for the future. Firstly, coming across a chat with a suspect accused of having planted a bomb under your house in order to boost your notoriety and your untouchability is proof neither of guilt nor of complicity: it is a curious, perhaps anomalous, development, but nothing that could put the public in a position to consider you guilty until proven innocent. The link between suspicious behaviour towards a suspicious individual and actual evidence to be included in a case file remains to be proven: let us not turn mere coincidences into convictions. Secondly. Associating with someone with a dubious track record does not mean the person associating with them inherits the sins of the other: one must learn to exercise common sense, even in one’s private life, and draw a clear distinction between one’s public conduct – as the moral hero – and one’s private conduct – as the sinner. Thirdly. Boasting about being a ‘Latin lover’ in a book, recounting sinful acts committed with a colleague, is not evidence of a dominant male – a symbol of violence stemming from a patriarchal society imposed by the right – but is this, too, a sin, perhaps, which remains to be proven, and which cannot and must not tarnish the public image of a person with, moreover, an impeccable reputation; for whilst careers may perhaps be inseparable in the judicial world, one’s public and private lives can be kept separate, and let us not go overboard with this #MeToo movement, which tends to criminalise even episodes that should be regarded as mere, innocent courtship. Fourthly. To regard a suspect as guilty without having conclusive evidence against them, even going so far as to suspect that the prosecutor investigating the case is completely off track, is not an attitude of complicity towards that suspect but is the very essence of the rule of law, which requires you to treat anyone – even someone suspected of planting a bomb outside your home – as a citizen who should not be subject to hasty judgements, even if that same suspect goes so far as to confess to what they have done. Prudence is required, not hasty judgements, not improvised verdicts. Fifth. Publicly offering incorrect answers to detailed allegations does not mean trying to mislead; absolutely not, but rather having a poor memory; and if, in response to the question ‘what were Ranucci and Lavitola doing together five days after the attack, without a mobile phone, talking intently?’, the aforementioned Ranucci replies that it is not true that he spoke intently with the aforementioned Lavitola five days after Lavitola was served with the notice of investigation, there is no bad faith – at most, there is distraction. Sixth. Displaying a certain inclination to protect the interests of a much-talked-about and decidedly compromised individual—going so far as to give interviews to the Zimbabwean media in defence of that person and their business affairs—does not automatically make one an ‘accomplice’ of that individual; if anything, it demonstrates one's naivety, your good faith, as Luciano Capone would say, and to prove a ‘subordination’ to be regarded as ‘complicity’, much more is needed – far more, in fact – not just some Zimbabwean gossip. Seventh. Using telephone wiretaps as evidence of guilt against a person whose calls have been tapped is a deep, genuine, sincere blow to the rule of law, and if, by chance, the wiretaps seem to suggest collusion between two individuals, as there appears to be between Lavitola and Ranucci on the night Lavitola receives news of the investigations and Ranucci tries to help Lavitola find a strong alibi for himself, this does not mean that there is, even here, any form of intent or complicity: let us not be overwhelmed by the anxiety of needing certainties; much more is required to discredit someone or to investigate them. Eighth. Specialising in the pursuit of scoops derived from information obtained through leaks – perhaps even misusing wiretaps that should not have been transcribed, the names of third parties that should not have been transcribed, or rumours concerning the personal lives of those under surveillance that should not have been transcribed – is not good journalism; it is not, but it is a way of feeding the reader rubbish, because the protection of a person’s privacy is infinitely more important, in a state governed by the rule of law, than the protection of the right to report the news, even taking into account the fact that the right to discredit one’s neighbour should not be passed off as the right to report the news. Ninth. The use of legal action, taken by a powerful figure against those who provide information deemed false about them, is not and cannot be regarded in any way or in any form as a subversive, intimidating or anti-democratic tool, but must be regarded as a normal means of defence, to protect one’s reputation in the face of possible slander, because news reports must always be substantiated, detailed and contextualised, and public shaming cannot be regarded as an acceptable practice within a country’s public life, as is sometimes the case on certain programmes – though we cannot recall which ones. Tenth.

Finally, a point for which we can never thank Dr Ranucci enough for his global tour in defence of due process: the party of quick arrests, summary trials and due process used merely as lip service must finally convince itself that no, really, no, it is not acceptable to continue living in a country dominated by the perverse logic of ‘he couldn’t possibly not have known’, ‘he couldn’t possibly not have been aware’, ‘he couldn’t possibly not have seen’. Evidence is one thing, suspicion another; that is the lesson of due process à la Ranucci, and even if the individual who ‘couldn’t possibly not have known’, who ‘couldn’t possibly not have been aware’, who ‘couldn’t possibly not have seen’ is regarded by many as the prince of investigations, the champion of piecing together the threads, we must be cautious and refrain from speculation, because evidence is one thing, theories another; and in a country that wishes to combat the culture of lynch mobs, the ‘Report’-style Ranucci model may set a bad example, but the ‘Lavitola’-style Ranucci model can serve as a good example to explain why friendship does not mean collusion, context does not imply complicity, and seeing everything without knowing much does not equate to guilt.