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One of the
most difficult, and under-rated, jobs undertaken by the historian
is that of the synthesis. Text books covering long periods
of historical time demand the exclusion of vast quantities of
material. Traditional text books were also always intended to
be readable, to be chronological and to go beyond the interest
of the specialist, although there is now a trend away from this
kind of approach towards the use of assorted sources which ask
questions of the student, and do not give definitive versions
of historical moments. Accomplished syntheses can only really
be done by historians who know the whole, inevitably complicated,
story of the period they are dealing with. They are aware of
what they can leave out, and what they must leave in. Normally,
this is also a task made easier by long experience of teaching
in specific areas.
In the sphere of Italian history, there is a great tradition
of fine text books by British historians, which have, in many
cases, become standard works in Italy. Denis Mack Smith’s classic
Italy: a Modern History (University of Michigan Press
Ann Arbor, new edn, 1968), recently revised and updated and re-issued
as Modern Italy: a Political History (Yale University
Press: New Haven and London, 1997) remains a standard work in
Italy and the UK and is still to be found on numerous Italian
bookshelves. Christopher Seton-Watson’s Italy from Liberalism
to Fascism, 1870-1925 (Methuen: London, 1967) is probably
still the best general account of the first fifty years of the
history of unified Italy. More recently, we have seen Martin
Clark’s popular history (Modern Italy, 1871-1995 (2nd
edn, Longman: London, 1996)), the excellent volume by Christopher
Duggan (A Concise History of Italy (Cambridge University
Press: Cambridge, 1994)) and two collections of useful, synthesis-type
essays, edited by John Davis (Italy in the Nineteenth Century,
1796-1900 (Oxford University Press: Oxford, 2000)) and Patrick
McCarthy (Italy since 1945 (Oxford University Press: Oxford,
2000)), as well as the high quality Oxford illustrated history,
edited by George Holmes (An Illustrated History of Italy
(pbk, Oxford University Press: Oxford, 2001)). For the post-1945
period, Paul Ginsborg’s two monumental studies, and in particular
his A History of Contemporary Italy: Society and Politics,
1943-1988 (Penguin: London: 1990) have become set texts in
numerous schools and universities both in the English-speaking
and Italian-speaking world.
Harry Hearder’s elegant book first appeared in 1990, the product
of a long teaching and research career in Italian history, and
is now revised and updated by Jonathan Morris, with a completely
new chapter on the events of the 1990s. This volume, however,
fits somewhat uneasily into the tradition of textbooks on Italy
cited above. In the first place, Hearder has covered an extraordinarily
long period of time – from ‘the ice age to the present day’ –
in 276 pages. This ambitious (and unorthodox) time span leads
necessarily to an extremely rushed view of certain periods. All
the previous histories have taken specific historical periods
– ‘early modern Italy’, ‘Risorgimento Italy’, ‘Liberal
Italy’, ‘Fascist Italy’, ‘Republican Italy’. Hearder chooses
the period that covers the whole history of the land mass
which later became known as ‘Italy’. Yet, the time and space
devoted to the various historical periods is clearly, and probably
inevitably, unbalanced. Fewer than one hundred pages cover the
thousand years from 600 to 1600 AD, whilst the successive four
hundred years get over 120 pages for their story. It is clear
that, for the historian, nothing new will come out of such a
volume. But this is to take the wrong approach to this kind of
book, clearly based on secondary sources and not intended as
a guide to extensive further reading.
How then can we judge the success of such an enterprise? Perhaps
by stepping back from our position as historians, if such a move
is possible. The blurb for the book notes that it is aimed at
‘both students of Italian history and culture, and … the general
reader, whether tourist, business person and traveller, with
an interest in Italian affairs’. From this point of view, as
a first introduction (or even an only introduction)
to Italian history, the volume is admirably clear, readable and
succinct. Hearder and Morris are often exemplary in their ability
to summarise or evoke long periods of history in brief paragraphs,
descriptions and examples. Both authors are not afraid to put
their opinions concerning various phases of Italian history on
paper, and are fond of the elegant phrase. Cavour ‘loved moderation
immoderately’ (p. 179), Crispi’s ‘exuberant oratory and ... imperial
ambitions ... anticipated Mussolini’ (p. 207). For Morris, Spadolini
was ‘the rotund leader of the diminutive Republican Party’ (p.
264).
Yet, we can also begin to introduce sharper critical methods
to our analysis. First, this is clearly and unambiguously ‘history
from above’. The masses make few, if any, appearances. Ordinary
people are all but ignored, unless they form part of categories
such as ‘rioters’, ‘unions’, or ‘peasants’. This is a history
of Kings and Queens, Prime Ministers and Dictators, Great Moments
and Great Events. As such, this is a work of very traditional
history (with the exception of the new chapter on the 1990s),
which for students can be seen only as a first, tentative step
into Italian history. Very few nods are made to any kind of new
historical method – be it social, cultural, micro or anthropological.
There is also little idea of the huge debates over history which
have marked the telling of Italy’s story – we get very few hints
at the work of other historians on the peninsula, or of disagreements
between them. More specifically, Hearder’s praise of Giolitti
leads him to leave out any mention of the numerous ‘proletarian
massacres’ which saw hundreds of peasants shot dead by the Italian
army in the early twentieth century. The anarchists, extremely
strong in parts of Italy, such as eastern Tuscany, are reduced
to a few assassins. Italy is described as a ‘full democracy’
in 1913 (the small matter of women not voting is more or less
ignored!). The Communist Bordiga is described, rather strangely,
as a ‘wild man of the left’ (p. 220), whilst his image has always
been one of a rather grey functionary. The section on the post-1945
period is quite inadequate, and is rescued by Morris’s more analytical
and detailed postscript chapter. Hearder, for example, makes
no mention of the most important social and cultural phenomenon
of the post-1945 period – the mass migration of Italians from
the countries to the towns and, more broadly, from the south
to the north. The Piazza Fontana bomb massacre of 1969, which
changed Italian history, is ignored. 1968’s movements are minimalised
and political violence in general is reduced to a few lines of
prose. Of course, all these quibbles are, as I have already stated,
unfair in relation to the type of book this is, and its
intended audience.
May 2002 |