There is a mini-tale in Italo Calvino’s 1980 book Italian Folktales that has always fascinated me. Titled “The Science of Laziness,” the tale is from the northern city of Trieste and is clearly politically incorrect, insofar as it targets Turks. No doubt, its disdainful origins were tied to the centuries-long enslavement of Christians by the Ottoman Turks.
As the story goes, a lazy father decides that his 14-year old son needs to learn from a professional how to avoid work. A “professor of idleness” happens to live down the street, and the father secretly watches the professor harvesting figs without effort. Lying down on a cushion under a large fig tree, the professor waits for figs to drop near him. Reaching out to the left or right as he is prone, he grabs the newly fallen figs and brings them to his mouth. The father decides this is the right teacher for the job. However, the father had underestimated his own son’s talent. With the professor watching, the boy lies beneath the same tree; and with his mouth wide open, waits for a fig to drop directly into it. “Why should I work myself to death reaching for figs?” says the boy. The professor is suitably impressed, stating the boy needs no lessons from him. The father beams with pride at the depth of his son’s laziness.
The past year of pandemic has revealed a depth of laziness in our society that is beyond medical caution. We have become a nation of couch potatoes existing on food deliveries, Amazon parcels, Zoom meetings…and even ballot harvesting. Venturing outside your home, for some, is deemed a foolhardy act. Voting in person is now considered “voter suppression”. Why reach for a ballot when the “ballot tree” will automatically drop one in your lap.
There is precious little our society asks from us, but so much is expected of society. Our youth no longer worry about a military draft. Personal responsibility is often a thing to be avoided. Despite an overload of cable stations, podcasts, blogs, and social media pinning us to our sofas, our younger generations only strive for greater laziness. I’ve yet to stumble upon an Amerian teenager mowing a lawn. I frankly don’t know if gym is mandatory at schools, anymore.
I could never reconcile the Italian saying dolce far niente (“[So] sweet to do nothing.”) with my actual experience with Italians. If there is one trait I find universal among our folk, it is being industrious. To me, dolce far niente is the time to relax at the end of a day’s work, or a lazy Sunday after a week of labor. To most outsiders, dolce far niente is living the good life – an Italian protest against working up a sweat. Tell that to our paesani who spend their off-hours growing vegetables, overhauling classical cars, tackling home improvements, playing sports, cooking for extended families, or volunteering for community service. Most of us feel guilty doing nothing, because we saw what our ancestors did to survive and thrive – not a lazy one among them! Sweat equity is as Italian as making pizza – try that career without sweating! We do not suffer couch potatoes lightly. Nor, do we respect whining or freeloading.
Of course, these are generalizations – perhaps even sentimental reflections on the past. But they are a celebration of Italian virtues, culled from years of study of Italian history and personal observation. The very word “virtue” comes from the Latin virtus (“manliness”). Our Roman ancestors set a high standard for men as role models. Those virtues were: Comitas (courtesy), Dignitas (self-pride), Frugalitas (economy), Gravitas (responsibility), Industria (hard work), Pietas (duty). The only dolce the early Romans spoke about was dulce et decorum est pro patria mori (“So sweet and fitting to die for your country.”) By the way, did you know that “werewolf” came from vir-wolf (“wolf man”) – the Latin v is pronounced as w.
The pandemic has accelerated our laziness as a society. We are certainly getting smarter, if you judge people by their computer skills, but not wiser. Our seniors and adolescents can be scammed or bullied at home. In fact, idling at home may be less safe than going out, these days. If the bullies and scammers don’t get you, depression and obesity will.
Fuori il divano! (Out with the couch!) -JLM
It is true, we scions of the mezzogiorno earned our dolce far niente solely on Sunday. In the warmer weather I always labeled it “under the grapevine factor”, when we sat together and chatted and the work week was totally discharged from our consciousness. In addition many fathers like mine had 5 day jobs, which meant Saturday smelled of turpentine as he went about his handyman tasks keeping up the home. A discussion of “are we getting smarter” vis-a-vis “computer skills” is certainly arguable. I know my ancestors would not classify our denatured lives as living smart, not to mention the other markers of intelligence.
As a (now) ex-teacher, I can testify that, although people can “process” a fact or a statistic much more quickly, literally with the touch of a button (“Google it!”), this is not the same as developing critical thinking skills. The same students who can skim a cell phone with the speed of looking through ticker tape can’t write a simple, well-developed paragraph.
And as for their socialization skills, it’s even worse. The constant staring into a computer or staring down at a cell phone has deprived them of visual intelligence; i.e., the ability to read someone’s facial expressions or emotions. They also don’t “get” irony or sarcasm.
Luckily, in Italy, they still resist this impulse to implode. Note the Italians who, during the early days of the COVID lock-downs, gathered on their balconies to sing and talk with their neighbors–even passing bottles of wine back-and-forth on makeshift dollies! Ditto the Italians happily interacting on the streets (with masks) after the lock-downs were lifted.
This eagerness to humanly reconnect speaks volumes about italianita`.