When on 8 March 2020 lockdown was declared in Lombardy, I had a national flag in a drawer waiting for 17 March – the birthday of unified Italy – to be hung down from my balcony just for one single day. Suddenly it seemed to me very natural to begin the ritual early, fixing it carefully and looking at it while it was moving softly in the mild evening breeze, amidst the surreal silence of the neighbourhood riven only by so many, too many ambulance sirens: a suspended time, a time of fear and resistance that I was sharing physically with my fellow citizens, and virtually, with my relatives, friends and colleagues living far away.

Writing about fascism and aviation has stressed the role technology played in Mussolini's ambitions to cultivate fascist ideals in Italy and amongst the Italian diaspora. In this article we examine Francesco De Pinedo's account of the Australian section of his record-breaking 1925 flight from Rome to Tokyo. Our analysis of De Pinedo's reception as a modern Italian in a British Australia, and his response to that reception, suggests that this Italian aviator was relatively unconcerned with promoting Fascist greatness in Australia. De Pinedo was interested in Australian claims to the forms of modernity he had witnessed in the United States and which the Fascists were attempting to incorporate into a new vision of Italian destiny. Flight provided him with a geographical imagination which understood modernity as an international exchange of progressive peoples. His Australian reception revealed a nation anxious about preserving its British identity in a globalising world conducive to a more cosmopolitan model of modernity.

Interest in the spread of human capital has grown in recent decades, as it is acknowledged to play an increasingly important role in supporting social and economic development. This paper, starting from the distinction between education – assessed by educational attainment – and literacy proficiency – that is, what people are actually able to do with the written word – examines the distribution of these properties in Italy. Results of analysis show that while the longstanding gap between the North and the South is gradually closing with regard to the distribution of educational credentials, there is still a significant difference in the acquired level of competence. There is also an unexpected result: the regions of the North-West, once the main driver of Italy's economic development, today deploy a smaller stock of human capital than the North-East and Central macro-regions. In light of these findings, improving the education system's effectiveness and creating adequate political, institutional and legal arrangements that favour the development of human capital appear to be an absolute priority for Italy.

Using an analysis of time series data over an extended period, this article describes the waning strength of the left-wing vote in Italy's ‘red regions’. By analysing changes to the provincial share of the vote for successive principal left-wing parties over the period 1953–2018, the degree of continuity in relation to the left's traditional territorial entrenchment is assessed. It becomes clear that after an extended period of minimal change, in more recent years there has been an increasing disruption of previous patterns. A thorough analysis of voter transitions during the 2001–19 period in Umbria, the first red region in which the left lost control of the regional government, shows that in this case the gradual weakening of the traditional left-wing ‘vote of belonging’ has experienced a dramatic acceleration during the more recent period. This has been expressed in a growing rate of abstention, vote-switching according to the type of electoral contest, and a marked propensity to vote for populist movements and parties on both the left and right.

This article examines Paolo Sorrentino's portrayal of moral degradation and pursuit of power in his twin biopics about Silvio Berlusconi: Loro 1 and Loro 2 (2018). It does so by performing a psychological reading of Sorrentino's representation of Berlusconi, as someone suffering from a personality disorder characterised by excessive power striving. It argues that this obsession with power also affects most of the films’ characters, who become obsessed with entering Berlusconi's inner circle – the pinnacle of wealth and power in a neoliberal society. In particular, it argues that their power striving circulates ‘virally’ in the film's narrative; the characters are willing to do anything to befriend their idol and attain absolute power. The ensuing analysis shows that Sorrentino's portrayal of Berlusconi – as the embodiment of a highly dysfunctional and obsessive, viral quest for power – comes to represent the deep pervasiveness of corruption, hedonism and commodification that marked the Second Republic.

Historical research acknowledges only cursorily the Catholic contribution to eugenics. Yet there is a substantial link between Catholic discourses on morality and the emergence of Italian eugenics. In this essay I argue that sexual normalisation was a key source of consensus. Masculine and patriarchal values strengthened the strategic collaboration between Fascist demographic policies, the Italian interpretation of eugenics, and Catholic doctrine. I draw on archival and printed material to show that the control of public morality and the support for reproduction met both Catholic and Fascist interests. In particular, I focus on the alliance between the State and the Catholic Church working against ‘the contraceptive mentality’. Mussolini wanted to stimulate religious sentiment as a basis for the fight against depopulation. The Catholic Church desired a set of laws against immorality, birth control and abortion. In this way, Fascism and the Catholic Church found a solid cultural agreement around restoring traditional mores, patriarchal values, and gender hierarchy.

In an article with the challenging title ‘Against Realism’, Alan O'Leary and Catherine O'Rawe (2011) argued that Italian cinema studies needed to move forward. In their view, the abuse of ‘realism’ as a prescriptive as well as descriptive term had stunted research into Italian cinema of the postwar period, channelling it exclusively towards neorealist trends and thus devaluing study of the other forms, movements, auteurs and productions that emerged during the same period. This historiographical tendency, which Christopher Wagstaff aptly called the ‘institution of neorealism’ (2007, 37), encouraged the development of reverential study and by the 1960s had assumed the form of a canon. While the position taken by O'Leary and O'Rawe was certainly provocative, it has served to stimulate thinking about the areas of postwar Italian cinema that had remained in the shadows and unexplored. Starting to focus on an ‘other’ cinema has not had to mean ‘forgetting’ neorealism, but has brought changes to the way that it is studied. Almost ten years later, the challenge seems to be to rethink neorealism as a transnational phenomenon that straddles different periods, genres and contexts; while it has its roots in postwar European culture, it continues to be influential on a global level.