Writing Assignment #2: The Race Riots of Rosarno

I'll be honest, I was concerned about this assignment from the beginning.  I walked out of class last Thursday grumbling about the logistics; where was I supposed to find an Italian who was not only willing to talk to a complete stranger but also had the English language skills to communicate about topics as complex as xenophobia, illegal immigration, organized crime and corruption.  So I did what I do with most things I don't want to deal with, I didn't deal with it.  I didn't even read about the events in detail, allocating the limited time I spend perusing the news on the disaster in Haiti.

Late Friday afternoon, shortly after our independent research meeting I made a desperate bid to make it to the wedding cake monument hoping to catch a few beautiful shots of the sun setting for my vlog.  For whatever reason, perhaps the alacrity with which I took my leave from our group discussion, Teo and Giulia were captured by spontaneity and decided to accompany me.  Whether they would have made the same decision knowing the frantic pace I was about to set is another question.  Regardless I am glad they came.  As we stood at the top of the Vittorio Emmanuele II Monument watching the sun sink into Rome, creating an ephemeral mix of vibrant hues, a middle-aged to elderly couple was enjoying the same vista.  Teo, feeling significantly bolder about the assignment than myself, approached the woman and engaged her in conversation about the race riots. I listened in, intrigued, but had nothing of my own to add.  As such the experience did not qualify for this assignment yet I mention it because it set the stage by piquing my interest in the topic.  Additionally I am rarely at a loss for words in any conversation, be that a good or a bad thing, and the unfamiliar experience was not exactly a comfortable one. Duly inspired by this duality of interest and shame I googled "race riots southern Italy" upon returning to my apartment and began to arm myself with an intellectual armada in preparation for my forthcoming second encounter.  As fate would have it one of my best friends, and probably my favorite person to discuss philosophy with, skyped me during this mental excursion and I took the opportunity to refine my ideas regarding the race riots. A particularly relevant excerpt from the conversation went something like this,

[1/20/2010 2:27:57 PM] Alex Hakso: whenever you are economically reliant upon something illegal, things are bound to get complicated

[1/20/2010 2:28:05 PM] Tim Persson: the situations not that far off from our Mexican seasonal workers

[1/20/2010 2:28:19 PM] Alex Hakso: oftentimes locals (especially old, white locals) don't want them around

[1/20/2010 2:28:33 PM] Alex Hakso: yeah my sentiments exactly regarding the Mexican migrant workers

[1/20/2010 2:28:49 PM] Tim Persson: makes you wonder if the same thing will eventually happen in the states or if not what factors are different

[1/20/2010 2:28:33 PM] Alex Hakso: they are occasionally the victims of violence, and there is a lot of effort put into keeping them out

[1/20/2010 2:28:57 PM] Alex Hakso: but the sentence "who's going to pick the fruit next year" carries a lot of weight in that article

While a slightly disjointed dialogue it captures several points worthy of in-depth examination.  The first line prods at a glaring contradiction between legality and reality.  I find it nigh impossible to believe that the Italian government or any of its citizens are ignorant of the labor system that is exploited in the southern regions of their country to harvest crops.  Yet it is tolerated even encouraged in the sense that the majority are comfortable feigning ignorance, they don't care how their produce arrives at their table only that it is less expensive.  This is in direct conflict with the counter-culture of impoverished Italians who are forced to compete, and in all likelihood fail, against unbelievably cheap stream of immigrant labor flowing into their country.  The last line of the excerpt sums up the crux of the issue, farmers have become dependent on this cheap labor and in one article I read a farmer was quoted as saying that he did not have the capital to harvest his produce at the prices demanded by Italian citizen laborers so his fruit was rotting on the trees.  It is incredibly interesting to compare and contrast the circumstances leading up to this racialized violence here in Italy with the nearly synonymous situation in the United States.  While this is not the focus of my writing I would like anyone reading this to compare and contrast the two and if possible share their thoughts. America has a long history of racism and racially targeted violence, is it really so hard to believe that these things could rear their ugly head again. 

However Alex is, like me, an American and in order to fairly examine the issue an Italian opinion is necessary. Despite having no concrete plan for who or how to approach fate decreed that the encounter arrived sooner than expected.  On Sunday I made a return trip to Ostia Antica.  As you might imagine a forty minute train ride could provide an excellent venue for such a venture.  However the thought hadn't really occurred to me to utilize my travel time until I sat down near a finely dressed Italian businessman who was conversing, in quite fluent English albeit Italian accented, on his cell phone.  When he finally hung up I decided to seize the opportunity.  I introduced myself as a student from Washington State and after a few cordial minutes I had discovered that he was, as I had predicted an Italian businessman, named Enzo Moretti.  He had done several years of overseas work in India working for what I understood to be a tele-communications company.  About a year ago he had transferred back to Roma, Italy and had worked here since; a change he seemed quite happy about.  The fact that we both understood the ardours of living with a lingual barrier helped to smooth things out.  Introductions accomplished I decided it was time to reveal my ulterior motivation, "So what do you know about the race riots in Calabrias?" I asked.  He paused just long enough to make me start to believe I had overstepped the bounds of our limited relationship.  Finally he slowly shook his head and solemnly said, "well I know that they are a serious problem."  Unfortunately I did not have pen or paper with me on this trip so I cannot give you an exact account of our conversation however I will do my best to provide an accurate synopsis.  He explained at first that it was personally upsetting because he felt that it reflected poorly upon all Italians and he not did feel that he could be classified as a racist, a statement I will concur with.  Furthermore he lamented the situation that leads to so many immigrants coming to Italy, seeing it as the ever-elusive land of opportunity when in reality they are confined to a marginalized existence similar to slavery in all but name.  He expressed his confusion that people continue to immigrate here in such great numbers somehow uninformed by their relatives of the abysmal conditions.  This caused me to ponder the possibility that perhaps these people come from conditions somehow worse, unimaginable as that is from the confines of my pampered lifestyle.  When queried about the allegations that the mafia was somehow involved he confirmed that he did in fact believe this to be the case.  He added something quite similar to what Federica Bianchi stated about it, that the line between mafia and the rest of Italy is not as demarcated as it would be convenient to think. Unfortunately at this point our conversation came to an abrupt halt as the train reached his stop.

In a way these were not the responses I had wanted to hear, I was secretly wishing to encounter an Italian who supported the governments stance that there was no racism in Italy so that I could directly juxtapose my views with theirs.  However it is more than likely that my own insecurities regarding the language border had made this a significantly less likely possibility.  Regardless once I committed to this assignment that had at first inspired so much worry I found it to be an incredibly relevant social issue both here and abroad.  In retrospect it was not the assignment that made me upset, given a similar one in the States would have gotten no such reaction, but crossing my personal borders being a mandatory aspect of the class.  However I am glad I did