Introduction: A Novel for a Reactionary Epoch
Antonio Scurati’s M: Il figlio del secolo (2018) has been
celebrated by Italy's cultural elite as a major achievement: winning the Premio
Strega, becoming a publishing sensation, and inspiring a lavish Sky TV
adaptation. Its success is closely linked to the political context of its
release. The novel appeared in 2018, a year when the Five Star–Lega coalition
brought far-right politics into government, and just four years before Giorgia
Meloni’s Fratelli d’Italia—descendants of Mussolini’s movement—came to power.
The celebration of Scurati’s Mussolini novel isn’t just a
cultural event; it reflects a broader ideological trend. It contributes to
normalising, trivialising, and aesthetically sanitising fascism within
bourgeois society. As Peter Schwarz noted during the centenary of the March on Rome, the
anniversary was “not only of historical interest but of urgent political
relevance. Just a week prior, his political successors had taken control of the
Italian government.” The support for M by the Italian intellectuals should be
understood within this framework.
The Novel’s Method: Biography as Historical Obfuscation
Scurati’s main idea—that Mussolini is the “son of the
century' and embodies the spirit of his time—exposes a key ideological flaw in
the novel. The text rightly points out that this is a methodological mistake:
“Fascism is explained not as a product of the crisis of capitalism… but rather
as the expression of a historical Zeitgeist incarnated in a single
personality.” This is more than just an artistic decision; it constitutes a
political misrepresentation.
By focusing on Mussolini’s psychology, charisma, sexual
appetites, and opportunism, Scurati echoes typical bourgeois historical
narratives. The underlying issues, such as the crisis of Italian capitalism, betrayals by the PSI reformist leadership, the trade-union bureaucracy’s cowardice, and Stalinist sabotage of revolutionary potential, are overshadowed by the novelist’s obsession with the dictator’s personality.
Trotsky’s analysis, referenced in the document, begins with
a different assumption: “When the ‘normal’ police and military forces of the
bourgeois dictatorship… fail to uphold social stability, the fascist regime
seizes power.” Fascism is not a result of a “century spirit,’ but a tool of the
ruling class created by finance capital to oppose the revolutionary working
class. Scurati’s biographical approach consistently conceals this reality.
The Disappearance of the Working Class
M’s most revealing aspect is how it systematically removes
the working class’s presence. The Biennio Rosso—the period marked by factory
occupations, workers’ councils, and a near-revolutionary upheaval in
1919–1920—acts only as a faint backdrop to Mussolini’s actions. As the document
states: “The true tragedy of Italian fascism is not Mussolini’s charisma or
monstrosity; it is that a significant revolutionary working-class movement was
crushed for lack of a truly Marxist leadership.”
This is the history Scurati cannot disclose. His narrative,
focused on the dictator as the central figure, makes it impossible. The working
class appears as a faceless crowd, serving only as a backdrop for Mussolini's
actions. The revolutionary potential of the Italian proletariat—once a source
of concern for the bourgeoisie and an inspiration for workers across Europe—is
now reduced to mere atmospheric detail. This issue goes beyond literature and
has political implications. Omitting the working class from the history of
fascism becomes a necessary step toward its political rehabilitation.
Aestheticisation and the Seductions of Reaction
The novel’s use of documentary elements—such as archival
excerpts, letters, and newspaper clippings—has been widely recognised as a mark
of seriousness. However, this approach does not prevent fascism from being aestheticised;
in fact, it sometimes promotes it. The document itself warns that “the line
between critical representation and aesthetic complicity is thin,” and Scurati
often crosses this boundary. By centring Mussolini in a sweeping narrative, the
novel makes him inherently compelling. Readers are encouraged to view things
from his perspective, follow his rise, and see the consolidation of fascist
power as a compelling story arc. This reflects the long-standing danger in
bourgeois portrayals of fascism: the tendency to turn political tragedy into a visual
or artistic spectacle.
David Walsh’s critique of The March on Rome is relevant here
too: the work “includes much intriguing imagery… but is confused and, in the
end, quite wrong-headed.” Scurati compiles a comprehensive documentary record,
but the framework—Mussolini as the “son of the century”—fails to create an
accurate portrayal of fascism.
The Political Function of M: Fascism as Cultural
Spectacle
The widespread popularity of M
serves a clear ideological purpose in modern Italy. As was said before, the
novel enables middle-class readers to explore fascism as a historical event,
while those connected to fascism strengthen their political influence today.
The core of the novel’s political significance lies in its transformation of
fascism from a present threat into a literary relic. It allows intellectuals to
feel morally superior without confronting the rise of the far right today. It aestheticises
the bourgeoisie’s historical crimes, making them seem safe for consumption.
Additionally, it conceals the class forces that gave rise to fascism and are
behind its recent revival. This is no coincidence; it reflects the cultural
shift parallel to the political reintegration of the far right.
Conclusion: What the Working Class Requires
The working class does not require another grand novel about
Mussolini. Instead, it needs a scientific Marxist analysis of fascism as a
particular form of bourgeois dominance, rooted in the capitalist crisis and
only preventable through the autonomous political mobilisation of the working
class. The document ends with justified sternness: “On that score, Scurati’s
novel offers nothing.” This is the core judgment. M: Il figlio del secolo is
not a valuable contribution to understanding fascism. Rather, it stands as a
monument to the ideological evasions of today's bourgeois intellectuals—a
literary expression of the very crisis that is once again elevating the far
right to power.
