The
Italianization of Europe
Over more
than a quarter-century, I’ve watched Europe’s politics become more like
Italy’s, with all the resulting instability, as the far right came in from the
cold.

Supporters
of Giorgia Meloni’s Brothers of Italy party at a rally in Rome before general
elections in 2023. Her victory was the first for a party with post-fascist
roots since Mussolini.Credit...Gianni Cipriano for The New York Times
Jason
Horowitz, previously bureau chief in Rome, is now bureau chief in Madrid. This
article is adapted from his recent book, “The Italian
Job: A Memoir of an American Reporter in Rome.”
Nov. 15,
2026, 12:01 a.m. ET
https://www.nytimes.com/2026/11/15/world/europe/italy-italianization-europe-horowitz.html
When I
first moved to Rome, I spent my time living in the past.
At the
turn of the century, I drifted through a vintage postcard of postwar Italy: old
women sitting around tables they had dragged into the street, old men playing
cards in caps, cats arching their backs on the hoods of snub-nosed Fiats.
As
newspapers filled with talk of Silvio Berlusconi, a media mogul with ambitions
and appetites worthy of a Roman emperor, my meanderings inevitably took me
toward Tiber Island, a sliver of land in the middle of the river that divides
Rome.
An
ancient bridge on the island’s left bank had a strange statue of weather-beaten
faces positioned back-to-back as if they couldn’t stand one another. The heads
rose out of the shared torso of a square pillar and represented Janus, Rome’s
god of the past and future, the deity of transitions and change.
Back
then, I didn’t see the change around me, but now, more than a quarter-century
later, after spending decades reporting on Italian politics and changes across
Europe, I have come to understand that I was living in the future.
Image

A
billboard featuring Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi and his Forza Italia party
in Rome in 1994.Credit...Franco Origlia/Getty Images
In the
time since, I have seen an Italianization of politics all around the continent,
with coalitions of small parties resulting in instability, with fed-up voters
desperate for new saviors. But more than anything, I have seen — in Britain,
France, Germany — countries following the Italian model by allowing the far
right into the political mainstream.
Spain,
where I’m now The New York Times’s bureau chief, will hold elections this
month. Polls show the far-right party Vox — which largely feeds on anti-Muslim,
anti-migrant and anti-E.U. sentiment — is likely to join the mainstream
conservative party in a new government. The current left-wing government led by
Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez, a beacon for Europe’s liberals, is trying to
mobilize supporters by warning against the regressive politics Vox represents.
Some of his officials invoke the dictatorship of Francisco Franco.
But I
keep thinking back to Mr. Berlusconi.
The
Italian Laboratory
Soon
before I arrived in Italy as a student in the late 1990s, Mr. Berlusconi, who
many see as creating the mold for President Trump, first brought
in “the fascists,” as he called the far right, to help govern with him.
Berlusconi’s calculus was purely political. He needed the votes to form a
winning coalition in 1994 and to gain power, not least to protect his vast
business interests from prosecutors.
His
decision broke a major postwar taboo. Mr. Berlusconi eventually claimed credit
for upending the political establishment that had governed Italy since the end
of World War II. Those mainstream politicians had made something of a backroom
deal to keep the fascist forces descended from Mussolini, the dictator who had
nearly destroyed the country, away from power. Mr. Berlusconi clearly
understood he had violated that pact. “We let them into the government in ’94
and we legitimized them,” he said.
Image

Forza
Italia supporters cheering after the general election in 1994.Credit...Alberto
Pizzoli/Sygma, via Getty Images
In Mr.
Berlusconi’s eyes, he was neutering, not normalizing, the “fascists.” Their
alliance was an act of what Italian politicians taught me was “Romanization,”
the age-old process by which any “barbarian,” no matter how ferocious and
dangerous, could be tamed by the transactional nature, and irresistible
gravity, of the Roman swamp. “In Italy, you can never have a revolution,
because we all know each other,” went one famous phrase.
Plus,
this particular swamp came with powerful guardrails created after World War II
to prevent another strongman like Mussolini and, as time went on, added
restrictions imposed by the European Union.
Those
limits, and Italy’s deeply embedded conservatism and resistance to radicalism
that could threaten the jealously guarded wealth — and real estate — of its
people, produced a paradox: Italians were apt to let a party try out newfangled
ideas — because nobody really expected anything to change.
It’s not
for nothing that the national motto often seemed to be an observation from the
great novel “The Leopard” by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa. “Everything must
change so that everything can stay the same,” a prince famously puts it, or, in
another translation, “If we want things to stay as they are, things will have
to change.”
Italy’s
insulation from change was exactly what made it a safe space as a political
laboratory. Over the years, I had seen no shortage of experiments —
megalomaniacal mogul turned face of the nation, a government run by proudly
unprepared Internet-native populists, save-the-day technocrats. Whenever it
seemed things were going off the rails, the flexible Italian system would call
time on the experiment — and new elections were held. The infamous Italian
instability was actually a way to preserve stability.
But one
experiment seemed more significant, and sticky, than the others, and that was
Mr. Berlusconi’s decision, out of political necessity or — in his telling —
civic duty, to bring the far right into power.
Forward
or Backward?
In the
decades after Mr. Berlusconi’s short-lived 1994 government, the neo-fascist
leaders who had joined it inched away from the margins and their taboos.
They
distanced themselves from Mussolini and decried the Holocaust. Eventually,
Giorgia Meloni, a teenager reared in the victimization culture of neo-Fascism,
became a party leader, government minister and, during my time as the Rome
bureau chief for The Times, the country’s most popular politician.
Image

Giorgia
Meloni, alongside Mr. Berlusconi, at a rally in Rome in 2022.Credit...Gianni
Cipriano for The New York Times
I had
watched her political rise over decades, and when we sipped spritzes together
in a Sardinian courtyard shortly before her election
as prime minister in 2022, she insisted she led a mainstream conservative
party.
I asked
her whether she agreed with what she had simply called “the historical
judgment” that Mussolini was bad for Italy — even if one subtracted the usual
neo-fascist caveats that he had erred in allying with Hitler, in enacting
racial laws and in almost destroying Italy and Europe by getting involved in
World War II. With some prodding she even uttered a quiet “yeah.”
Ms.
Meloni’s election seemed the culmination of something. I wasn’t sure then if,
like Janus, I was looking forward or backward. I wasn’t sure if Mr.
Berlusconi’s “Romanization” bet had succeeded in sapping neo-fascist forces or
if it had backfired spectacularly and breathed them new life, bringing the
world back a century.
But it
mattered, I thought. Even if Italy seemed inoculated against the risks of its
own political experiments, I wasn’t convinced that a lab leak to a world with
fewer antibodies would not be a dangerous thing.
Since
then, Ms. Meloni has become the Italian Republic’s longest-serving prime
minister, likely to serve out her five-year term ahead of elections next year.
Her fiscal and foreign policies are essentially those of a mainstream
conservative. She has not wavered in her support for Ukraine. An initial effort
to become Europe’s
bridge to Mr. Trump failed. She has clearly taken the side of the European
Union, on which Italy depends for financial aid, another illustration of the
continent’s guardrails against rogue nationalism.
The
establishment has gone from fearing Ms. Meloni to embracing her. The European
Union values her as a partner and has moved closer to her positions on
immigration.
Image

Ms.
Meloni speaking with the news media at the European Council building in
Brussels last year. She has become the Italian Republic’s longest-serving prime
minister.Credit...Omar Havana/Associated Press
After Ms.
Meloni gave remarks to a gala held by Italy’s Foreign Press Association in
2025, during which she called the evening “an occasion to know one another,”
she sat for more than an hour on a couch in the corner as reporters from around
the world took turns talking to her, but mostly taking selfies.
At the
end, I watched with disbelief from the back of the room as they gave her a
bouquet of flowers, and Ms. Meloni danced with some of the reporters to “Billie
Jean.” It was a raging success for Ms. Meloni, whose international
normalization campaign was going splendidly. On the way out, I caught her eye.
She gave me a look as if to say she couldn’t believe how well it had gone
either.
Ahead of
Italy’s elections, critics are arguing that Ms. Meloni hasn’t done much in
government. While some still worry that she might feel bolder about taking the
country farther right if she wins next year, they cannot, in any credible way,
accuse her of governing Italy as a fascist or authoritarian.
As
important as how she has governed is the very fact that she’s governed at all.
She’s shown Europe’s hard-right forces — similarly inspired by neo-Fascism, but
in countries without Italy’s kind of restraints — that they
can win. It’s hard not to see that leaders of parties once seen as
extremist — Marine
Le Pen in France, Alice
Weidel in Germany, Santiago
Abascal in Spain — owe her a debt.




Clockwise
from top left: Marine Le Pen of France’s National Rally, Nigel Farage of Reform
U.K., Alice Weidel of Alternative for Germany, and Santiago Abascal of Spain’s
Vox party.Credit...Alain Jocard/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images; Temilade
Adelaja/Reuters; Lisi Niesner/Reuters; Jean-Francois Monier/Agence
France-Presse — Getty Images
She had
made any lingering neo-fascist odor much less offensive.
“For us
it would happen the same,” Carlos Flores, a member of the Spanish Parliament
and a prominent voice in the nationalist party Vox, told me soon after I
arrived in Spain. He looked to Ms. Meloni as a model, envisioning a Spain that
protected its culture and traditions, embraced nationalism and closed its doors
to immigrants.
“We will
carry out a portion of our program,” he said, and like he hoped Ms. Meloni
would do, “We will wait until people give us the sufficient mandate to carry
out the rest.”
As he
envisioned that new, or maybe old, Spain over coffee in Valencia, I thought
back to the Janus statues on the Tiber Island in Rome and to what my life in Italy had taught me. The land of the past often
pointed toward our future.
Image

The Janus
statue on Ponte Fabricio, leading to Tiber Island.Credit...Katja Hoffmann/Laif,
via Redux
Jason Horowitz is the
Madrid bureau chief for The Times, covering Spain, Portugal and the way people
live throughout Europe.


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