Let the left start again with the poor Christians: "Merit, Need, and the Great Turmoil" by Claudio Martelli

The new essay
The latest literary work by the former member of the Italian Socialist Party, which starts from his speech in Rimini in 1982, is a reflection on socialism as an ethical requirement between merit, needs and social justice.

Where can the left—orphaned by all tradition—start again if not from a profound understanding of human nature, of how it works? This is the praiseworthy incipit of a beautiful and substantial essay by Claudio Martelli: Merit, Need, and the Great Tumult (La nave di Teseo). In this regard, I recall what Dwight Macdonald , an American libertarian socialist, said: the best approach to socialism is to always remember "that man is mortal and imperfect " and "therefore we should not exaggerate."
The concept of limit, obliterated by modernity, comes from the ancient Greeks and arises from a reflection on human nature. With Martelli's essay—which begins with his 1982 Rimini speech—I share both the general inspiration and the specific judgments on Italian society (RAI, newspapers, political parties, customs, etc.), on geopolitics, etc. (for example, yielding to force was not the virtue of our ancestors and our partisans). Reading it, I thought of Craxism, a great missed opportunity for our country, the then-minority idea of a liberal and libertarian, democratic, and Proudhonian socialism. A missed opportunity for a shared responsibility.
We, my generation, weren't ready to embrace it: we shared Marx 's contempt for Proudhon, we distrusted the Actionist tradition, that of Rosselli and Calogero, which seemed moralistic and culpably "social democratic," yet which instead possessed an absolute, almost anti-Italian, radical nature ( Veltroni attempted to annex it, but a bit hastily). On the other hand, Craxi , too, by choosing to ride the animal spirits of Italian society, deluded himself into thinking he could govern them, in a bloated political titanism, but was overwhelmed by it (personally, I would also have doubts about the famous cut in the sliding wage scale, but that's another story). I don't pretend to summarize Martelli's book—over 350 pages—I'll simply underline one of its fundamental qualities. Before doing so, however, just two critical observations. First of all: to understand how human nature works, we should turn a little more to literature, which is its only “science”, albeit a very singular one (at least this is what one of the greatest political philosophers of the last century, Isaiah Berlin , does).
It's true, Martelli mentions Balzac and Dickens, but they remain in a purely sociological dimension, cited as sharp reporters of bourgeois society. To delve into the heart of darkness of human beings, perhaps one should draw more on the novels of the 19th and 20th centuries. And then: the author engages fruitfully with contemporary philosophers, especially from the Anglo-Saxon world ( Sandel, Rawls, Martha Nussbaum , then the Indian Amartya Sen ...), but he never once mentions Ignazio Silone, who wrote the finest political memoir of the 20th century (Uscita di sicurezza) and who made a valuable contribution to the definition of democratic socialism! Why not mention him? Too provincial, him and the peasants of Marsica?
And now we come to the book's quality. Through an expository style of extreme clarity, equanimity, and intellectual honesty, Martelli addresses the themes of need and merit, interconnected not only in the Enlightenment and the socialist tradition, but in the Italian Constitution itself ( Article 37 : " The capable and deserving, even if lacking in means, have the right to reach the highest levels of education. " ). On the one hand, merit, a mix of natural talent and commitment: " A more rational, more just, more dynamic principle than the hereditary principle ," according to which positions and powers are passed down by right of blood. On the other, need, both as a liberation from material want— Marx in the Grundrisse insists on increasing free time, to indulge in idleness or to pursue higher pursuits—and as an evolved human need, coinciding with the desire for full recognition from others (the only need capitalism recognizes is that of money!).
Here, Martelli offers insightful pages on Kojève 's interpretation of Hegel (by the way, I don't mean to sound offensive, but I can't think of any member of the current ruling class capable of writing such pages!). I'd just add that meritocracy perhaps shouldn't be primarily about income. It's right to value individual talents and abilities (partly due to chance, let's not forget), but why, say, should a respected heart surgeon earn thirty times the salary of a hardworking nurse? This fuels social exclusion and resentment, which then form the basis of current populism. Earning too little, compared to the salaries of those higher up than us, can undermine people's self-esteem. Trump —paradoxically, of all people—was born from there, from the common people's sense of shame. For Proudhon , justice is a universal concept, present a priori in human consciousness: "The recognition in others of a personality equal to our own." Which coincides with the need to ensure that everyone can develop their abilities on an equal basis.
The critique of neoliberalism, incapable of embracing environmentalism and allergic to any state intervention (and necessary social leveling), is particularly pointed and non-ideological. The point is not to cultivate destructive class hatred. "Riot" is a healthy thing, as Machiavelli knew, but it must be orderly. Once again, Martelli insists on the rational "expediency" of socialism: allowing everyone to escape poverty generates dynamism, social justice is a factor of development that strengthens human bonds. This is also why I like Martelli's conclusion by speaking about poverty, recalling that the fight against poverty remains " the primary objective to be pursued by the state." It is immigrants—" the ten million slaves" —who pay the full price for injustice, while the upper classes make themselves invisible to the tax authorities (not to mention the disastrous way in which the basic income has been managed).
I return to Silone, who, commemorating Salvemini in 1957, spoke of his "socialism of the poor and oppressed ." As if a genuine need for fairness and truth could be found first and foremost in the hearts of the dispossessed, those who are literally "poor Christs," nothings... Now, it's difficult to translate such a statement into the so-called two-thirds society (of privileged people), in which workers become a minority, even though—as Martelli reminds us—the poor number in Italy almost 6 million. But the point is that any democratic socialism, even the most modern, the most theoretically sophisticated, will always need a reference to the poor Christs. If we no longer physically see them, we will have to constantly imagine them, and also recognize the " poor Christs " within us, that is, our part exposed to evil, chance, and misfortune.
Socialism, at least as a universalistic idea, concerns not only a specific social class, but rather the hidden part of each of us, the thirst for justice rooted, for Silone, in the hearts of all the humble and honest. And here Silone takes us beyond the political dimension itself: for him, socialism was the extension of ethical demands from the private sphere to the entire realm of human activity. This doesn't mean we must necessarily love our neighbor. However, we should treat them as we would a friend or loved one, with the same solicitude. Attentive to their merits and needs.
l'Unità