L’analisi impietosa (e forse un po’ troppo severa) di Peter Popham.
«From the windows of my flat in central Milan, I look out on a smoggy scene of Austro-Hungarian-era tenements and ancient trams. A hundred and fifty years old next year, Italy the unified nation has always seemed less than the sum of its parts. Where its neighbours have functioning states, capable of self-renewal, Italy has a rusting apparatus that’s good for little other than keeping an army of civil servants in easy work. The role of the prime minister, which the elderly Berlusconi fulfils pretty well even in these last days, is not to repair, scrap or replace it, but to hide it from view».