By Piero Garau
ROME, Italy -- I normally pose as an architect and urbanist (not these two, me), and I suppose foreign readers might be genuinely interested in hearing about little-known architectural and urban wonders of the city where I live, Rome. More on that later, perhaps. But now I must share with you my current obsession with the latest mystery surrounding our leader, Silvio Berlusconi. Most of you are in the enviable position of being able to ignore the clown altogether, as well as his past and his actions. But we cannot. He is the one who is running our country -- and in the opinion of many, running it down. Fast.
His latest feat is slightly obsessive because it is hard to explain. Most of the fellow's past actions and doings are easy to fathom. That he cheated and bribed to become the richest man in the country, everybody knows. That he runs parliament like one of his own private companies, we are all aware. That he bought judges to expand his media empire, is common knowledge. That he harasses journalists he does not like during live shows, we can all see with our own eyes. That he pays young girls to keep him company in his lonely evenings in the cellar of his princely villa, is even certified beyond doubt by magistrates; as well as the fact that he tried to get one of them, and underage Moroccan, discharged by the police claiming she was the Egyptian president's niece. We all know all of this: and yet, a majority of Italians still feels some kind of sticky attachment to this man. Adhesive bondage, indeed. (Those of you who wish to sympathize may take a look at the despairing collection of my own cartoons from the celebrated Poerio Press).
No. my current obsession is not the adhesive bondage between Berlusconi and his admiring compatriots or between him and the foreign leaders he has been consorting with (see picture above). Rather, I am concerned with the Mysterious Case of the Adhesive Bandage.
Here are the facts. The other day, Berlusconi underwent surgery to fix a mastication problem. This was the consequence of a blow he had suffered some fifteen months ago at the hands of a deranged bystander in the aftermath of a public rally. And when he showed himself again to his fans after coming out of hospital, he was sporting a huge, white adhesive bandage on his left cheek.
The problem is that the surgery took place inside his mouth. So, a suspecting journalist interviewed a well-regarded specialist, who said that he had never heard of the need for external bandages after this kind of surgery. Then the journalist interviewed the surgeon who actually did the procedure. The answer was that the bandage had been placed there "in order to stabilize the internal stitches." Uhmmm.
A famous Italian politician, Giulio Andreotti, once famously said: You sin in thinking badly about people - but, often, your guess is right. So, here is my wily interpretation of the mystery.
There was no need for the adhesive bandage. And indeed, nobody in his right mind would want to sport something so unsightly. But it became very handy, for a number of reasons. First: our man has an obsessive need to be at the centre of attention -- at all times. Second: the sight of a medication always attracts sympathy and concern. Third: this was a wonderful opportunity to remind everybody of the horrible aggression he was the victim of more than a year ago, while discharging his duties to the nation. Fourth: it was also a message, "Here I am, sprung out of hospital with a terrible wound, ready to serve the nation as ever."
The bandage may have been imposed by the surgeon, after all. But the point is that the man's reputation for deceit is such that thinking it was a fake was the first thought many people had. To the point of turning it into an exercise of public mockery:
Hopes of sorting out the adhesive bondage paradox, I have lost long ago. But perhaps some expert doctors, psychoanalysts, or attentive students of the human soul can help me sort out at least the adhesive bandage riddle.
Piero Garau is an Italian architect and urbanist who worked with the UN and taught at the University of Rome.