As someone interested in politics, my first glimpse into an Italian-style political discussion was thrilling. Admittedly, I wasn’t prepared to see it up close.

It was a Wednesday night and I was getting ready for dinner with my host mother Daniella, her son Paulo, who is around my age, and one of Paulo’s friends. A news station was on television in the background, and when a story came on about Silvio Berlusconi, the former prime minister of Italy, I knew where the conversation was headed.

The news was about one of Berlusconi’s recent trials. Paulo’s friend had some casual criticism of him, and Paulo agreed. Daniella started to disagree, though, and the two sides went back and forth. Slowly, their voices got louder and eventually they started to fight.

I couldn’t get all of the details since they were speaking Italian, but I understood enough. Daniella was gesturing the most, her hands waving in the air and hitting the table, to the point where I had to move her wine glass. She was passionately — almost furiously — defending Berlusconi’s actions. She argued that he pays more taxes than any citizen and that all of these trials are an attempt by communist Democrats and the media to peg him for nonexistent crimes.

Paulo’s friend was calmer, retorting that Berlusconi’s policies hurt the economy and the country’s equality. At least he tried to argue that. Most of the time, Daniella cut him off with loud, repeated shouts of “No!” Still, he kept trying to get his point across, regardless of the volume or how many times it took. I could tell he was becoming progressively riled up, as he ultimately knocked over his own wine glass.

Paulo was also engaged, but fearfully so. He was arguing that more action be taken to help the poor and unemployed — he lives at home without a job. But he argued to little avail. He started telling his mother to get news from somewhere other than broadcast television – perhaps the Internet – for different points of view.

Daniella then scoffed and went into an animated rant about how she’s too busy working and running the house to read anything online. I would have said that she was avoiding the point, but I was too hesitant to interject.

In the end, Paulo just shook his head while repeatedly saying “Cosa dici?” or “What are you saying?” while his mother kept yelling.

At one point, Daniella even turned to me and said, “You have to pay for your mistakes, and I’m paying for mine now.” I’m not sure if she was talking about something like paying taxes, or mistakes she feels she made while raising Paulo.

The oddest part, though, was how quickly the fallout faded. Paulo’s friend went out for a cigarette and Daniella smiled and patted his back as he went. The two of us calmly talked for a while, and Daniella said she understood that they have different viewpoints. She only became mad when they said she didn’t understand anything.

Still, I could’ve said she was guilty of the same thing when she shouted that they were too young to understand anything. But I kept a neutral face and nodded, afraid to start another fight.

That evening around the dinner table gave me a glimpse of how differently people discuss politics in Italy. Their passion shows deep involvement and awareness, which is essential for democratic citizens. This can sometimes lead to serious disagreements, but Italians manage to keep their relationships intact. In a way, the discourse is actually better.

Despite that, though, it’s something I didn’t feel prepared to handle, even as a lover of politics myself. It looks like Italy is on a whole different level here, for better and for worse.

Max Antonucci is a junior newspaper and online journalism major. His column appears every Tuesday in Pulp. Visit his website at www.MaxwellAntonucci.com, find him on Twitter at @DigitalMaxToday or email him at meantonu@syr.edu.

Published on September 23, 2013 at 10:21 pm