I start from afar, from the aftermath. It was the eve of war and in the world massive mobilizations were being prepared, notable both for the great participation and for the geographical extension of the dissent, an extended multitude well beyond the representation and the political institutions still existing.
Even the New York Times, it was February of the 2003, went so far as to announce on the front page the emergence of a new superpower alongside the US, the global public opinion.
As we know, the mobilizations that united Tokio in Moscow, Rotterdam in Paris and Florence in Oslo in a single request for peace remained unheard and did not in any way alter the war determinations of the governments then in office. Of that period I remember a huge demonstration in March when the war in Iraq was already done and the final words of a letter that a famous South American writer addressed to the powerful of the earth.
In that conclusion the importance of the words was evoked which, although unheard, also generated value only for having been pronounced. "You are eight us six billion" was one of the many slogans that stood out against Genoa, a city that in those days of the 2001 it became the involuntary capital of a better world.
For a short time, too short before masterly butchers in orchestrated orchestrated rape definitively our fragile democracy, torturing people, annihilating words. Because deep down and in spite of today's "specials" contained in the "big newspapers" that tell only the stories of public order, violence and clashes, there was more to it than anything else.
The history of my country, of its Republic, is dotted with unsaid, small incessabilimimute yet deafening caesuras that it is good to leave in the limbo, the blood of others that repays our daily peace. They began immediately in an arbëresh province near Palermo in Purtelja së Jinestrës to be exact, to then continue in an endless chain of horrors: Bologna, Piazza Fontana, Italicus, Via D'Amelio etc. Genoa is also part of this chain but it is a different ring, too small and at the same time too big for conjunctions still to be delimited.
The movement of the movements as it was defined was a new subject, unprecedented in history. It was the first movement that asked nothing for itself, it just wanted justice for the whole world just to paraphrase Susan George.
The soul was kaleidoscopic, in perfect Social Forum style, and the energies available to the Catholic nuns went to the antagonists of the social centers, from the boy scouts to the trade unionists and still environmentalists for the green economy alongside the fair trade activists, the glue was the profound critique of liberal globalization, the same monster that today, ten years later, produces its nefarious crunches between debt, environmental consumption and the subsumption of human beings. Then the careful "right-thinking" looks danced in a limbo between derision and demonization, complicit in the Western media, that multiple movement was liquidated and reduced to the single name "noglobal".
In the 2001 the criticisms of the financialization of capitalism, the green economy, the TobinTax made you turn up your nose even before being branded as ridiculous. And today? Today there are identical and unheard-of dynamics on the lips of heads of state (with the tiny s now). Was the word peace raised in a loud voice all over the world in the 2003? But what was then behind Genoa, behind that G8, infinite shame that violent anger and repression buried? The G8 of Genoa opened much earlier with the frantic campaign of "news" that preceded the appointment aiming at participation - according to the latter the protesters would have arrived in Genoa even carrying bags with infected blood - because, in reality, only hundreds of thousands of people arrived and never an international summit would have completed the own circus under such a large protest.
The first demonstration was opened by migrants, 50.000 people who claimed the rights of immigrants between groups of foreigners and representatives of the Lilliput Network.
Clanders of half the world marching through the streets claiming their existence between the party and the concert halls of Manu Chao that would have closed the day in the face of borders, Genoa was the involuntary capital of a better world.
For a short time because the lugubrious omens, which everyone sniffed between the construction of the red zone and the tightening of declarations, soon made Genoa a cursed place.
In Genoa I did not go but I remember perfectly the dull rage I felt in front of the TV, the silent fear of the Diaz school and of Bolzaneto but above all the incommunicado distance that separated me from the chatter of my city, which did not understand, adapted itself abandoning itself and the country to a future of widespread illegality.
Certainly also in that case, especially in that case.
Because the truths are documented. Written in innocent statute of limitations or turned into mild for easy promotions. But there are and just want to see them. I'm not going to dwell on the facts, for those the statements of Amnesty International would be as good as giving body, in my own small way, to those ideas and words that were massacred in the streets of Genoa. Those that today, even if only in part, are shared by most.
It frightens how a concocted slaughter may have reduced Genoa and that G8 to an endless flow of violent images. Perhaps that wide participation against an international summit was the reason why the Italian government - and probably not only that - decided to deal with the "noglobal" once and for all, stifling the protest in the blood of Piazza Alimonda because Genoa, in those days, managed to maintain a double global and national dimension within a single defeat.
In this context, the figure of a Fini who was running inside the police headquarters in the "hottest" moments is coupled with the absence of significant protest movements in the subsequent summits of the G8, after Genoa nothing was the same as before.
That city was a seal, just as that nefarious year in September would have given the world a decade of suspicion and fear.
Piazza Alimonda marked defeat. The cruelty of annihilation was staged at Diaz and Bolzaneto.
Of that boy, Carlo, I know nothing except for the little or so much I have read.
Years later, however, in a splendid event in Vicenza, I happened to "know" the father, walked side by side only for brief moments, no words, just a mutual prolonged look that, in my eyes, translated into a simple "sorry "Just before another exchange, this time of smiles. Reciprocal.
The most painful wear, however, is that carried out by the silence and by whom this silence has encouraged him, institutions and political parties in the first place, the same ones that a commission of inquiry on those days have strongly opposed it. to remember and not only for the tenth anniversary, because memory is a permanent exercise, which no one will ever do for us, while the consequences of oblivion are a price always paid by most.
Who was in Genoa knows. Those who have experienced the many protests in defense of our constitutional order in these years also know. The others? #I remember
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