From the wings of the Sala dei Notari, the anti-Castroists, originally from Cuba, shouted in turn against the strictly Umbrian demonstrators. Quite picturesque their exit, after ten good minutes of protest, shouts and invectives against Sanchez, who remained seated, protected by Calabresi’s 194 centimeters, singing “Bella ciao”.
Yoani Sanchez’s hot comment was laconic: “We in Cuba too would like to protest as they did. It’s nice to see people free to demonstrate and for that I thank them. Their protests make my voice louder”. Then, in a low voice, she whispers to her friends: “I’m so used to these manifestations that if nothing happens, I get bored.”
A final with a bang, for the seventh Journalism Festival, at its first demonstration against, which took place on the first Italian day of Sanchez. A young woman who through a blog, Generation Y, a simple telematic window, has generated a violent whirlwind of thoughts, information, controversies. In 2008, the Cuban government put a filter to make his blog invisible on the island, a problem immediately bypassed by hundreds of friends who bounce his messages through all possible doors. Today the Generation Y blog is listed among the 25 most influential in the world.
A woman, Sanchez, who wanted to return to live in her Cuba, despite the exile of her uncle Adolfo Fernandez, who was released from prison thanks to the patient diplomatic work of the Church, despite the fact that her sister left three years ago, like so many of his friends and acquaintances. “I could not live anywhere else. Every time I ate a plate of meat I thought of the privations of my fellow citizens, of their difficulty in living which is mine every day. I want to be useful to my country and to my people”.
Sanchez has an 18-year-old son and lives on the fourteenth floor of a house with a run-down elevator. He claims his battle against the inflexible and granite Cuban government but he does so by recounting the scenes of everyday life, from the washing machine that does not work to the market under the house. His technological capacity and his distinctly digital nature were decisive in a robust classical culture, reaffirmed by his degree in Philology. And, of course, its narrative quality.
On Raul Castro, Yoany Sanchez cuts short: “His is an original sin. Raul was not elected, he inherited power by blood, something unimaginable in the third millennium”.
At the end, there was a few outbursts of protests, this time through questions from the audience. But the audience is for her. And it will be difficult to silence his voice.
Bernardo Valli and the correspondents on the postThe
Before the Sanchez the last day of the Festival was gone. smooth Illuminating the annotations of Bernardo Valli, dean of the envoys (he must not like it, to hear his hymn to youth during the interview with Luisella Costamagna). In this orgy of new devices to intercept contacts and readers, Valli recalls that a good journalist “must” beware first of all of his own readers, not to go too far, not to indulge them; that enemies not only dictators, censorship or competition but sometimes the editors or editors of their own newspaper; that it is not good to immolate oneself in the flood of news and posts of others to maintain one’s identity. A connotation dear to Valli, that of identity. The correspondent of Repubblica recognizes the greater cultural and specialized preparation of young people who have come out of journalism schools but identifies their often colorless character, the lack of personality. Unfortunately, the interview insists on current issues, losing the great service that Valli could give to the Festival, recounting the incendiary years of his journalistic passion, a love that is now untraceable and that should be found among the thousands of opportunities at your fingertips.
Children insult us
The first Sunday curtain is tasty and light, conceived by Unicef with Michele Serra and Claudio Bisio, an opportunity for both to talk about their children and the small generational clashes in the home. We pass from the competitive approach of Claudio Bisio, who the well-informed say is capable of blasting his son who beats him at tennis, to the laconic young Serra, reprimanded because he was surprised on the phone while surfing on the PC and underlines the book on which ‘exam. “But how do you study like this?”, Complains the father in a friendly tone. “It is the evolution of the species”, thunders the heir.
Italian donkey breed
Roberto Ippolito talks about his book “Ignoranti”, a shocking screening on the regression of knowledge in Italy. It is difficult not to relate the Italian cultural dive with the policies of the last twenty years, decidedly adverse to the public school system. The data declare that only 30 percent of Italians are fluent in their own language, that our country is in the queue for public education expenses, that all 43 graduate candidates were rejected in a recent competition in Orbetello, clearly not up to the role required. The competitions are also an unparalleled source of neologisms and idioms: they range from “burrocrazia” (logical that it is heavy …), to the town of Bentegodi, an irresistible tribute to the Verona fans. In the meantime, those who have studied and would be entitled to the scholarship do not receive a lira. Not to mention families, forced to pay out a billion a year to exercise a right written in the constitutional charter. Money that is largely destined to find another paper, now unavailable, in our school complexes: the toilet paper.
The Talking Arrow
Carlo Freccero has been chewing Grillo for months to understand its true flavor but we are not there yet. Even in Perugia, the TV guru of the 80s and 90s admits that he still studies the phenomenon but that he has not yet managed to grasp its deep meaning. He certainly finds similarities between the founder of the 5 Star Movement and the well-known generalist TV: he traces the inconsistencies in self-referencing, far removed from the logic of the network, but appreciates its generalist appeal. Who knows that he too may not succeed in the work of commercial TV, the one that gave the whole Italian periphery a way to have a space for representation.
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