NEL BUIO DI VIA CAETANI
Questo non è un articolo nel senso tradizionale del termine: non mira ad offrire la ricostruzione di un fatto di cronaca, ad individuare una particolare lettura di situazioni controverse, a proporre nuove soluzioni per i tanti problemi che affliggono la nostra difficile quotidianità. No, la funzione di questo scritto è un’altra: riflettere su una storia, su come questa storia si è sviluppata e su come avrebbe potuto ipoteticamente svilupparsi, considerate quelle che erano le sue premesse iniziali.
walk to the center of Rome on a cold evening in late December: the Christmas lights lit just recall the past, the posters of the Democratic Party denounced the scandal of parentopoli happily created by Alemanno (ex-militant hard and pure than the right shareholder and reactionary, undeservedly fregiatasi the slogan: "clean hands and clear ideas") in his first two years at the Capitol, and the tricolor flag in front of Palazzo Grazioli mockingly reminds all anti-Berlusconi furious that the twilight of the Knight is not finished yet .
behind Piazza Venezia, the old Bottegone has retained its austere appearance that characterized it in victory and in defeat, which is identical to itself so much at the debacle of 1979 that magical night in 1996 when a large crowd celebrated under the great banner of a project supported by two generations of fifty years of progress: the left at government of the country, the final overcoming of the nightmare of anti-party system. Today, some offices have taken over the secretariat of the PCI and PDS, and the writing of "The Reform" occupies the premises of the legendary library "Rebirth". Alemanno and "Reform", the posters of the PD and the white flag of Palazzo Grazioli is as if Rome would confirm the sentence of history, the sentence with which history says that the left has been defeated, we have been defeated.
Then, one of those tricks that memories can do, the sound of a voice began to cover the noise of the cars, the sounds of the city, the obsessive chatter of tourists on their way to the last monument of the day: it is a young voice, slightly altered by a telephone set, played thousands of times in news, documentary and reportage of any kind. The words spoken by that voice young and metal have gone through a quarter of a century without losing their dramatic intensity, as they are carved into the stone of memory, in the stone of fear: "... in via Caetani…in via Cae-ta-ni…che è la seconda traversa a destra di via Delle botteghe oscure”. In via Caetani, in via Caetani: cosa è successo, in via Caetani?
Imbocco la seconda traversa a destra di via Delle Botteghe oscure e mi trovo in una strada stretta e senza lampioni, piena di macchine parcheggiate lungo il muro di un palazzo di ristrutturazione: una strada buia, che sembra davvero perdersi nelle tenebre della più profonda Notte della Repubblica. Perché quella strada non è solo una strada, perché in quel buio c’è qualcosa di più di una fila di auto in sosta: c’è la tomba di Aldo Moro, vittima consapevole di un gioco al massacro consumato the shadow of the palaces of power, variously located between Washington and Moscow for the sole purpose of strengthening the consistency of that damn gray wall that for years has determined the fate of the world. There is the end of a dream, the dream of two visionaries who wanted to turn Italy into a full democracy, is freed from the machinations of the CIA by tanks of the Red: the DC, Scelba a Catholic Democrat, and the PCI, from Sputnik to the center-left. There is hope for a different country, broken with blows of Kalashnikovs in the trunk of a bloody red Renault 4, parked along the same wall of that building being renovated.
in un film di seconda visione, dal buio di Via Caetani iniziano ad emergere volti, fatti, ipotesi, teorie e teoremi: politici e politicanti, eroi e spioni, monsignori americani e banchieri milanesi, bande criminali che sognavano di conquistare Roma e corpi paramilitari creati per alterare il regolare andamento della vita democratica. Treni che esplodono e strette di mano, logge nere e brigate rosse, Piazza Fontana e la stazione di Bologna: capitoli, paragrafi, protagonisti e comparse, di quel potentissimo,drammatico, dolente romanzo delle stragi che è stata la storia italiana del dopoguerra.
Nel buio di Via Caetani, mi trovo a immaginare quale Paese avrei conosciuto se quella telefonata non fosse mai partita, if that had never been red Renault parked along that wall, if that road had been only one way, perhaps, the AFC would not exist, and would never come to the construction of the City of bribes unveiled, survey after survey, Action by the monumental "Clean Hands" investigation of the Pool. Craxi would remain head of a small stick-free decision-making power, as such, unable to feed this vicious circle of Milan to drink in the bunga-bunga Berlusconi is the principal product: no flag flies in front of Palazzo Grazioli, the neo-fascist parentopoli Alemanno would be reduced to a few emaciated carouse among nostalgic light-years away from the splendours of the Capitol, and the PD could proudly boast of their nature of left-wing party, without resorting to strange balance that see him eternally suspended between support for the protection of big business and labor world. Perhaps, I met a different country, a country more just and more livable than Rome that offers to tourists on the march in this strange evening in late December, while I walk away through the streets of the capital, defeated once again by the darkness of Via Caetani.
Carlo Dore jr.
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