November 1970. The Chamber of Deputies is about to approve one of the most troubled laws in our history: the law on divorce. In Italy, in fact, until then, marriage was “indissoluble”.
The young doctor. Ciro Amendola, who has just been hired by the Ministry and therefore moved to Rome from Naples, finds himself having to directly follow this story, which is very dear to him for family reasons and his passion for sport. It is in this historical context that Alfonso Celotto sets his novel (published by Einaudi). A novel about conformism and the fight for social evolution, about how a respectable boy can cultivate the confidence to influence the destinies of a nation.
The speech by the Honorable Tozzi Condivi
«Mr President, Mr President…».
In the Montecitorio courtroom the air was heavy. After a whole morning of fighting over the economic decree, everyone was tired and tired. As tired as the path of the Colombo government, which just three months after taking office was in great difficulty, between attacks, economic crisis, political complexities. And now the hassle of divorce law. Finally, on that gray afternoon, the discussion about divorce resumed. Now in the final stages. After it had been approved first by the Chamber of Deputies and then by the Senate of the Republic with some modifications, in a tiring process of months. Now it was the final approval in the Chamber. And they were still fighting, because there was little time left before the final vote. For more than half an hour the microphone had been all for the Honorable Tozzi Condivi. Who, like a good lawyer, mixed legal quibbles and apocalyptic tones. President Pertini struggled to contain the buzz and comments in the chamber.
The Honorable Tozzi Condivi raised his voice. He was on the last corner. He was about to conclude: «This is why we, defending this thesis of ours, fighting this battle of ours, are not deluded: we know that we are fighting for truth and for freedom. We are not deluded when we defend our families, the Constitution, the blood that has been shed, when we fight as we fight tonight, by the few against the many, by the weak against apparently strong men. Liberals and social democrats should know that the intention is to destroy the family to destroy society; we intend to destroy marriage to destroy the bond on which this civilization of ours is still attested, which must be defended. Do we want to defend this family? Do we want to defend this marriage? This is why we fight this battle, certain that we are doing our duty, that we are fully fulfilling our mission.”
The Montecitorio classroom was seething. The center applauded. The left was roaring. Lots of buzz.
The Christian Democrats were fielding their strong pieces. Just like Renato Tozzi Convidi, one of the pillars of Catholic Action, even before the party. That law should have been avoided. The country was not ready.
While the honorable member resumed his seat, Dr. Amendola felt the sweat running down his neck, chest and back again. That same sweat that had accompanied the doctor. Amendola throughout the first day at the ministry. And who now accompanied him towards the exit turnstiles, for a short break. All the (frequent) times that Dr. Amendola did not feel comfortable and regularly began to sweat.
Dr.’s day Amendola still had a long way to go. How long that of the Honorable Tozzi Condivi and all the deputies would have been. Instead they would have remained in the courtroom until at least 11pm, trapped by the discussions.
…
After walking briskly for a while, Dr. Amendola felt from his belly that Ciro was pushing him to one side. The Dr. Amendola followed that push and they found themselves on the river. The Tiber flowed strongly, near the waterfalls of the Tiber Island. The Dr. Amendola was amazed by that river, he who had always lived in a city like Naples that had none. There was plenty of water where he came from, but it was different. Ciro, on the other hand, was attracted by the river. From energy. From all that water flowing noisily. The water, the wind, the leaves moved Ciro and perhaps even the doctor a little. Amendola. Who started muttering to himself. Not just to put things in order and let the events of that morning settle. But also to reflect on a word that had struck him: divorce. A word that he felt about him. Because young Ciro had intertwined his life with the problem of divorce ever since he was a boy. And now he himself found himself working on that law. A coincidence? Coincidences don’t exist. A fatalist like Ciro knew this well. First, Dr. Amendola began to think that that law could change the life of his favorite champion. Fausto Coppi. If only that law had been passed fifteen years earlier. Or perhaps seventeen, to be precise. Oh yes, because Ciro remembered that he was still in primary school when all that commotion over the White Lady had broken out. Because Fausto was married. And he had left his wife and daughter to take up with a married woman with children: what a scandal.
A scandal that had greatly affected the young Amendola (who had not yet graduated and, at the time, lived in greater symbiosis with Ciro). He was already passionate about cycling in elementary school. He is a Coppi fan more than a Bartali fan. What memories, from when I was a child. The great comeback on the Stelvio in 1953, the World Championship in Lugano, with an impressive show of strength. As impressive as that photo that went around the world: the Champion with the rainbow jersey and next to that beautiful brunette with short hair and a dark blouse. Unknown to most. Yet, one step away from Fausto on the world podium there was her. The White Lady. About her About her Giulia about her.
Ciro was not yet ten years old, but he already understood and knew about betrayals because of what was happening at home to aunt Mena, mother’s sister. And so he followed the newspapers carefully. Which told of the Italian climb to K2 and of the carabinieri who broke into the villa in Novi Ligure to catch the lovers red-handed. With the hot bed test. A first time, a second time. It was the summer of 1954. September, almost certainly. The Dr. Amendola remembered well that Mrs. Occhini, the White Lady, had been arrested and imprisoned and they had taken away Campionissimo’s passport. Incredible. What a scandal! All this only because there was no law on divorce yet. That law he was now following.
Ciro walked through those Roman streets, trying, almost unconsciously, to distance himself from the ministry. He fantasized. Of Fausto Coppi, of bicycles, of heroic deeds, of plots, of divorce. Of his dream of helping Fausto, with a leap back in history, and perhaps of finding a woman to accompany him himself. He was working too by now. The work. He had grown up, a man, no longer a boy. That thought passed from Ciro to Dr. Amendola. The Dr. Amendola first considered that work was the foundation of the Republic, pursuant to art. 1 Constitution. Then he thought that work was a watershed in life. Those who work no longer study: they have become adults. He realized that being a ministerial advisor, even if still on probation, was a good match. He had to find a suitable girlfriend, as well as settle that divorce law.
The Dr. Amendola darkened in his solitary thoughts. He wanted to return to the ministry, being alone with his thoughts. He won Dr. again. Amendola, with his unscratchable rigor. And he started walking towards the ministry again. With his martial pace, like a general on parade. But without emotions, without feeling. Only by classifying thoughts, as an entomologist classifies the morphology of insect skeletons. Getting lost in the smallest, useless details, without considering the whole. Not considering that the inevident order is more powerful than the evident order, as Heraclitus had already intuited.
The Dr. Amendola was so thoughtful that he didn’t even notice those two men walking excitedly in front of him. Two austere, authoritative men. Surrounded by a squad of plainclothes police. Because those two gentlemen were none other than one of the greatest notables of the Christian Democracy, Mariano Rumor, who until a few months earlier was President of the Council, and Oronzo Reale, a great republican, who at that time was also Minister of Grace and Justice. That is, the boss of the boss of the boss of the doctor. Amendola. If he had been less absorbed in small and big thoughts than him, Dr. Amendola would have been very surprised to see that those two men were talking, incessantly, about the same things he was thinking about. No. They didn’t talk about Fausto Coppi or possible girlfriends. They were talking about the divorce law, which was now in its final stages. And it created great agitation in the country and among the political bigwigs. An obsession. And incredibly, even for Dr. Amendola divorce law was a kind of obsession. Not only for the passion for Fausto Coppi, but for an important family event, so important that it convinced Ciro to do his degree thesis on divorce, also to resolve a family issue. Because since he was a boy he couldn’t understand that divorce, the sacrosanct divorce, the way to be free if things didn’t go well in the family, didn’t exist in Italy. That of Dr. Amendola, if you think about it, had, until then, been a life based on divorce. Or rather on studying him.