These days one pops up a week. Perhaps it depends on the fact that we only realized it now and with a guilty delay. In Florence, in Reggio Emilia, in Vimercate. The profile is very similar. They are young, sometimes very young, even minors. They are second generation immigrants, perhaps with Italian citizenship. And they are angry. They are (predictably) not comfortable in Western modernity. They spend hours and hours on the Internet – the case of the twenty-one year old in Brianza is emblematic in this regard – and frequent groups, chats and sites where violence and hatred for Europe, Italy, and in part the human race as a whole are celebrated. There are videos of attacks and propaganda material from Al Qaeda and Isis. Then, one fine day, they begin to think that an attack could give meaning to their existence. They begin to dream of martyrdom, they interpret it as a sort of catharsis, they believe that it can represent the ultimate and sublime goal.
This, in summary, is the identikit of the new generation terrorist. An aspiring assassin much less aware of the attackers of the past, less ideological and grouped and, for this reason, probably even more dangerous. We saw it in the case of Modena, hastily dismissed as a mental disorder: a classic, we prefer to say that “it was a madman” who struck. This is how we clear our conscience, remain politically correct, and avoid pointing the finger at the distortions of multiculturalism.
It is not (just) a religious problem. Islam has something to do with it, and above all the so-called migratory background has something to do with it. We are talking about young people suspended between two worlds, not integrated, indeed alienated in everyday life. The nation and culture of origin become a sort of escape route: if the Western world in which I find myself is corrupt and rejects me, the reserve identity I have can transform into a foothold, a path to salvation and redemption.
It would be wrong, however, to stop here and think that the problem concerns only Islamic radicalism. If anything, as many observers have noted, we need to pay attention to what the French scholar Olivier Roy calls the “Islamization of radicalism”. Taking this perspective allows us to understand that the violent impulse, today, also exists independently of Islam. And it also exists (perhaps to a lesser extent) among white Europeans of ancient origin. We also saw him recently in Italy, he covered a hugely successful series like Adolescence. There are, locked in their bedrooms, kids who vent their anger and frustration by taking refuge in chat rooms and web groups where violence, rape and contempt for women are celebrated. Even in these cases we witness a sort of radicalization, which can lead to a terrorist-like attack, perhaps with teachers as targets.
In short, it is quite clear that the problem of terrorism is now closely linked to those posed by youth violence and alienation. For this reason, in order to delve deeper into the issue, it is not enough to read the fundamental reports of this or that security expert analyst. There is certainly something more obscure and underground to investigate, which has to do with the malaise of our society and the flaws in our culture. Entering this dark forest is the task of literature. To put it simply: if we want to understand the terror that grips us today we must read Chuck Palahniuk. The man who had already foreseen everything with Fight Club. That apocalyptic and extraordinary novel turns thirty, and it couldn’t bring it better.
It told of lost young males who sought an escape route in extreme violence. In the punches and kicks of the club they found a way to feel their body again, otherwise devastated by an only apparently comfortable and peaceful life. Starting from Fight Club, a real terrorist group was formed: the desire for nihilistic devastation was totally evident, perhaps the visceral hatred that characterizes some of today’s radicalized people was missing.
But Fight Club isn’t enough to exhaust the theme. Palahniuk has also developed it elsewhere, in particular in Talbott’s book and in the very recent Shock Induction, just published by Mondadori. In the latter, we examine a society in which critical thinking is essentially disappearing, in which girls and boys no longer read, and make themselves much more vulnerable to manipulation and control. If on the one hand the novel is pure social satire with traits of dystopia, on the other it is also an engaging hymn to reading and the beauty of thought that comes from books.
Yes, books can help. They are precious allies not only because they alleviate loneliness but because they train, among other things, the critical capacity which is instead totally annihilated by the Web and screens. It can be said that Palahniuk has dedicated his entire career to this type of criticism. “I write Brothers Grimm fairy tales for adults,” he said of himself. «As a child I adored Little Red Riding Hood and Cinderella! Toes are cut off. People go to hell. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. If you think that my books ultimately offer a cathartic and soothing sensation similar to that of a visit to the dentist, I must disappoint you. A dentist fixes things. I do not. The pain remains.”
Yes, in fact Palahniuk is not an anaesthetic. Indeed, he puts his finger in the wound and twists it. And it is exactly thanks to this immersion in Western nightmares that he manages to show, or rather scan, our darkest side. By examining ours, he obviously also stages his own.
“My best writing teacher, Tom Spanbauer, instilled this in me,” Chuck wrote again. «Tom called it “Dangerous Writing,” and by that he meant that a writer had to explore an unresolved personal issue that couldn’t be resolved. A bereavement, for example. Something that felt intimately dangerous to face. By doing so, the writer could exaggerate, vent, and eventually exhaust the pain or fear related to the issue, and that gradual relief would push him to return to work on the project despite the lack of a promise of a publishing deal, money, or readers.”
Be careful though: talking about unresolved and painful issues does not mean substituting sociology for literature. On the contrary. Palahniuk’s main aim is to write great novels, which then – as a side effect – also have the aim of exploring fundamental themes for public and political debate.
«Everyone has a mother. Everyone’s mother will die,” Chuck continues, offering a great lesson in creative writing. “Few people want to read about your mother’s death, even if she’s a movie star. A metaphor allows other people into your story. Better yet, it entices you to delve into the pain more than you otherwise would. You forget what you’re actually writing about, but you don’t. Plus, with a metaphor you don’t face the pain head-on. According to Michel Foucault, going into direct opposition to a problem only gives it more power. It makes the pain worse. But approaching it from one angle, with humor or a metaphor, works. As for me, people always invite me for coffee or lunch. They offer them. I can always tell what’s going to happen. “I have a great idea for a book,” they say. “I already have everything planned in my head,” they say. “You should write it down and we’ll split the profits.” These people have no idea how unpleasant the act of writing can be. To return to Tom Spanbauer, Tom calls writing a first draft “shitting out a lump of coal.” Which means it’s slow and painful. Even using the best metaphor in the world, dangerous writing requires long periods of isolation. Isolation is the least of the problems. But at least when the draft is finished there is relief. It’s your shit. While we’re on the subject, everyone’s shit smells good because it’s the smell of relief. Proof that the pain is gone. On the other hand, someone else’s shit simply smells bad. Sitting at these lunches, I always think: why would I want to take your excrement? That’s why so-called Big Ideas rarely get written down. There is nothing personal, nothing dangerous at stake. And if they are written, the result is mediocre. Formulated. Just like the kind of outline and presentation that can be exchanged over coffee and sandwiches.”
In the Chuck novels, however, almost everything is dangerous. But having the courage to face this danger could save us. From ourselves first of all.
