by Mark Dyal
After the mass the leadership of Boys Roma stood next to a photo of Zappavigna, accepting the hugs, kisses, laughs, and condolences of all who approached them. Fabio, my main contact in the group, introduced me to Signora Zappavigna, Paolo’s mother. She thanked me for being there to honor her son. I asked her why she had not spoken about her son, or stood with the Ultras after the mass. ‘These were his brothers,’ she said. ‘They built something special together; so much that they organized this mass for Paolo to honor him — just like they do every Sunday’ (the traditional game day for soccer).
Even to a relative outsider — although had I been a stranger I would never have been allowed in the church — the afternoon was emotional. In the ritually and emotionally charged environments of the stadiums, I knew them to be eager to sacrifice and suffer. But to see them come to mass to honor one of their own with the same passionate commitment that they show at the games somehow seemed more important. I was beginning to understand that being Ultra was not something to be experienced only on weekends.
Upon telling the Ultras at the café how impressed I had been with the mass, they explained to me that the Ultras are not normal people. They are given to extremes of emotion, being at home with both great love and hatred. These extremes alone, I suggested, did not fully explain the hushed outburst during the mass. ‘Certainly,’ Marcello, a thirty-four-year-old baker and member of Padroni di Casa said, ‘each of us in the church today had either been in battle with Paolo, or grew up in an Ultras group hearing stories about him and his courage. He was fearless and never turned his back. When you went into battle with Paolo there was no chance of being left behind.’ ‘Restare indietro [being left behind]?’ I asked for clarification. ‘To be taken advantage of — by enemy Ultras or the police,’ he continued. ‘We are warriors steeled by war. Therefore, we understand the importance of the war. Otherwise, what the hell are we to do?’
The talk of war surprised me and they could tell. Augusto, a recently married thirty-one-year-old waiter at a nice pizzeria off Via Veneto and a member of Boys broke in, ‘Five years in the Curva made me hard, especially at the end of the 1990s [when fights were a regular part of the Ultras experience].’ ‘We have done and seen things that normal people would cower against,’ he said. ‘As such there is an incredible distance between us and those outside the Ultras.’ I asked if there was difficulty relating to those outside the Ultras. ‘Those who live that way are already dead,’ answered Marcello. I asked if theirs was an extreme position. ‘Absolutely,’ said Augusto, ‘we are perhaps most extreme, but all Ultras are extreme. That is why they are Ultras.’
‘Per esempio (for example),’ said Marcello, a phrase that I would come to identify with him, ‘we in Padroni di Casa understand that the war of the Ultras is not one for the politics of the State, nor completely for the honor and security of the city or the Ultra movement. In a much bigger way it is ultimately for liberation from [bourgeois moralism]. We cannot be at the stadium everyday but our experiences there prepare us for when we are not. I padroni (members of Padroni di Casa) are Ultras in all aspects of life.’
Marcello and Augusto went on to explain that the Ultra, the true Ultra that is, those like Paolo Zappavigna who devoted their lives to Curva Sud, demand ‘unconditional sacrifice’ from one another. In return the Ultra is united in confraternity with others who can be counted on in any situation. For many hundreds of Ultras, what happened at the mass was the culmination of times spent in defense of their brothers and sisters and in the protection of Paolo.
In exchanges like this, it was again made clear that I needed a way of understanding the Ultras that went beyond their merely being a subculture with its own values or characteristics. I wanted to find a way to understand how experiences in Curva Sud, the various cage-like structures comprising guest sections, and in Ultra dominated social settings, came to create and transform the ethics of many (Ultra) men and women (the few women who were, primarily as girlfriends, involved). The idea that oppositions are the driving force of the Ultra phenomenon was already clear. However, what I added to this as time went on was the idea that war played a crucial role. Not only does warfare need warriors, it also needs an ethical approach to conflict. The Ultras have both.
The Ultras: An Ethic Against Bourgeois Ideals
During my time with them, particularly the periods immediately following the 2007 deaths of police officer Filippo Raciti at the hands of Catania’s Ultras and Gabriele Sandri, Roma-born Ultra of SS Lazio, at the hands of Arezzo police officer Luigi Spaccarotella, the Ultras made it clear to me that they hated and were a direct contrast to ‘il modo di vivere della borghesia,’ or the bourgeois form of life. From Evola and Nietzsche, as well as the contemporary Far Right, many Ultras have been given, in their minds, a clear understanding of the forces at work within the bourgeois phenomenon. Nota bene, however: The Ultra critique is hardly ‘class-based,’ focusing instead — as does their critique of globalization — on ‘spiritual’ issues.
The Emptiness of the Universal and Bourgeois
The Ultras’ use of Nietzsche ultimately focuses on his critique of the forces of modernity, through which he demonstrated the ‘emptiness’ of universal values and concepts such as equality and democracy. I found Nietzsche useful in thinking through the distance between universal and particular values and specifically how such a distance is maintained by the Ultras’ critique of globalization.
Although the Ultras are against the economic and political aspects of globalization, at least those which impact upon soccer (in the form of Calcio Moderno), their revolt against this form of modernity is primarily against its ‘spiritual’ or intellectual aspects, which they understood to be hedonism, multiculturalism, rights-based movements like Gay Pride, and universalist assumptions of culture based on the market.185 It might be more clear to discuss these things under the rubric of postmodernity, as does Baudrillard, who explains postmodernity as a ‘glandular corpse’ that celebrates ‘handicaps, weirdos, degenerates, and asocial persons’ at the expense of the ‘heroes’ of previous forms of life.186 In the language of the Ultras, however, postmodernity hardly figures, although globalization is a big concern.
Instead of dismissing their rhetoric, I suggest that the Ultras, by focusing on the intellectual or epistemic aspects of globalization, point to a different way of understanding the phenomenon and how it impacts, or is understood to impact, local cultures. What the flourishing of American fast food would mean for Roman cuisine and culture is more upsetting to them than merely the specter of a McDonald’s on every Roman corner.
Additionally, how they understand the issues connected to immigration and ‘minority rights’ is not the vulgar racism, xenophobia, or sexism that many expect of them, but something closer to issues of sovereignty and counter-modern writings on the degeneration of culture. In other words, the Ultra rejection of the form of modernity promised by globalization is not motivated by saying ‘No’, as some who study such phenomena assume, deploying labels like ‘parochialism,’ ‘racism,’ and ‘discrimination’.187 Instead it is a ‘Yes’ that is put into action by preferring and loving their own form of life, even if that means refusing and even hating the life forms of others.
The Ultra are opposed to a bourgeois life — that is, a life devoted to concerns of the market at the expense of spirituality, values, and ethics. According to Evola, the bourgeois type lives a life dominated by concern for safety, wellbeing, and material wealth.188 In the inter-Ultra discourse on Calcio Moderno, one continuously hears laments that soccer is being made the domain of those who are unwilling to fight for anything — those who seek to purchase a connection to AS Roma, rather than getting their hands dirty or putting themselves in danger.
It is this part of the crowd, the consumerist bourgeois fans, that is referred to as just ‘fans’ by the Italian media. According to Claudio of Ultras Romani, this ‘manipulation of our understanding of who is and isn’t a fan is another aspect o
f the game’s coming to be considered in the American style, as mere entertainment [without any ludic or even affective value]. One need only have money to be worthy of taking part.’ The Ultras consistently speak of the normal fans, the bourgeois who live vicariously through the Ultras so long as there is no violence, and who castigate the Ultras at the first sign of unrest, as those ‘without spirit.’ As Claudio explained, ‘these fans like the passion we bring to the stadium but they want us to have that passion only while the game is on and only in forms which conform to their morality. They want us to live orizzontalmente (horizontally) and passivamente (passively) as they do.’ ‘This is strange,’ he continued, ‘because certainly they understand that our courage is foreign to them.’
Living Dangerously and Heroically
Claudio made it clear that the normal bourgeois fans lack courage because, from the Ultra perspective, they thrive only within an environment of neutrality. It could be said that they ‘swim in a sea of moderation, diluting their passion for life in the gently flowing current.’189 ‘If there is one thing we Ultras despise it is neutrality,’ said Claudio, which they equate with a deficiency of conviction; or with a life devoid of what Evola called a ‘transcendent reference point.’190
Months after we had originally spoken in the San Lorenzo café I met Augusto of Boys Roma outside the guests’ section in Livorno. We hugged and complimented each other for coming to an away game of the highest seriousness and symbolism for many of AS Roma’s Ultras. AS Livorno Calcio plays in the city of the same name. Their Ultras are fiercely of the Far Left, matching the political affiliation of many of the townspeople. The Partito Comunista d’Italia (PCI) was founded in Livorno in 1921 and the Left has been entrenched there ever since. Naturally, the political Right dominating Curva Sud intensifies the rivalry with AS Roma’s Ultras. When the clubs meet, the chanting, flag waving, and banners often have less to do with soccer than with political affiliation.
Figure 12. AS Livorno banner, ‘Our tricolor [Italian flag] has a red star,’ Livorno, 2007.
Indeed, without politics, the clubs have no relation whatsoever. AS Livorno has played in Serie A for only three seasons since 1949. Many non-Ultra fans of AS Roma know little of Livorno and care not for the rivalry, understanding it as an ‘Ultras thing.’ For the Ultras, it is a rivalry that defines the Ultra phenomenon. To get to Livorno in 2007, AS Roma’s Ultras filled a special train, three charter buses, and numerous cars. Two thousand of the most committed Ultras made the trip. Most of these, it seemed, went to chant ‘Duce! Duce! Duce!’ for ninety minutes and then return to Rome. When AS Roma scored, the Duce chants rang out in place of their various songs in devotion to Rome and AS Roma. There were several flags of the Italian Social Republic and a few of Nazi Germany in the guests’ section. Additionally, Roman Salutes sometimes replaced clapping. These were countered in the Livorno Curva Nord with raised fists, chants of ‘Stalin Vive!’, flags of the USSR and PCI, and a large banner announcing that Il nostro tricolore è con la stella rossa (our tri-color [Italian flag] has a red star, in reference to the international symbol of Communism).
When I mentioned to Augusto that I never see him away from Rome and had not seen him since the mass for Paolo, he told me why. ‘Livorno is all or nothing,’ he said. ‘For us Fascists there is nothing like this game. You will see. This has nothing to do with soccer, just pure hatred.’ I told him that it was the away game I had most looked forward to experiencing.
‘Games like this,’ he told me, ‘made Zappavigna the legend he is. He used to tell us ‘Onore e nobilità vengono da odium et bellum’’ (honor and nobility come from hatred and war — he used the Latin purposefully). Later he explained to me how, for many of the older members of Boys, this was a motto — something to keep in mind in violent and intense situations. I asked if he thought about it beyond his life as an Ultra. ‘That’s impossible,’ he said. ‘The Ultras’ understanding of soccer is the Ultras’ understanding of the world. It makes sense when you use ‘strength, honor, rivalry, and Romanità’ to see how to live.’ Such values, he went on, had given him something for which to fight, and a willingness to do so, making him stronger and more ‘Ultra’ than other normal people.191
Those who willingly commit their lives to a form of life that frowns upon rivalry and discrimination are seen as weak-willed seekers of comfort and coddling. What is worse, to the Ultras this bourgeois form of life seeks the diminution of exaltedness. Whether the Ultras reach those states in stadiums following AS Roma, in violent encounters, or through organized action in their communities is less important than their ability and willingness to seek occasions rich with meaning and seriousness. These moments are part of the Ultras’ commitment to live a life ‘a rischia il tutto per tutto’ (all or nothing).
For the Ultras, danger, adventure, and even pain are the most valid parts of life, for they require a commitment and resolve that most people would not consider worthy of our modern liberal societies.192 Just as the Futurists and Fascists of the early twentieth century heeded Nietzsche’s call to ‘live dangerously,’ the Ultras of today are using the same ideas to place distance between themselves and the bourgeoisie.
In his Gay Science, Nietzsche suggested that by living dangerously one would expand the horizons, or conditions of possibility, of existence. The modern world had made of life a struggle only to avoid struggle, strife, danger, pain, and discomfort. Conversely, by living with contempt for safety, security, and caution, one could re-invigorate life with commitment, bravery, and nobility.193 As Mario, formerly of Antichi Valori and now Romulae Genti, explained to me, the love of hatreds and lack of fear of dangerous situations have set the Ultras apart from non-Ultras. ‘The days we live together, like going to a big game in Milan or going to Brescia (another of the political rivalries of Roma’s Ultras), are deeply felt. None of us will ever forget these battles,’ he said.
As many journalists point out, attending soccer games can be dangerous. However, it was my experience that they are not exceedingly dangerous, and not dangerous at all for the bourgeois fans. Nonetheless, in comparison to spectating live sports in the United States, the Ultras experience is downright frightening. While boarding a train, arriving at a ‘hostile’ city, entering their stadium, and exchanging insults and projectiles with the locals, there is an element of the unknown that keeps one alert and tensed for contact. Add to that the aggressive nature of all interaction with those outside the group of AS Roma fans and after a handful of away games one begins to feel like a warrior marching into battle. It certainly amounts to very little compared to actual wartime experience, but it still offers considerable distance from passing one’s afternoon on Via del Corso (a popular shopping street in Rome).
Evolan Heroism
In this environment, where one sings ‘songs in honor of hostility,’ a feeling of heroism and virtue emerges.194 Evola outlined the two foundations of heroism in Men Among The Ruins. The first is that ‘the measure of what one can demand of others is dictated by the measure of what one can demand from oneself.’ The second is that ‘those who cannot be their own masters should find a master outside of themselves’.195 Both principles are entrenched in the ideas of dedication, discipline, and sacrifice. Vittorio of Boys Roma presented them to me as we drove to witness the return game of the Coppa Italia final in Milan.
He explained that the groups that maintain themselves over time, such as Boys and Fedayn (both in existence since 1972), are aware that leadership is crucial. As a youngster in the group he had found a copy of Evola’s synthesis of the revolt against modernity that someone had left behind on a special train. Parts of it became ‘a Bible of Ultra life,’ he said, ‘especially those on Rome and the specialness of being Roman — and at war with this world. Look behind us,’ he said, referring to the back of the bus, ‘why is there only a handful of people on this bus? Why aren’t we being mobbed in a sea of humanity? Because it cannot be so: these ideas, these fists, these hard eyes — they are only for t
he few. You meet a lot of people in your life, yes? But how many Ultras? How many men who can live beyond the comfort and safety of this [form of life]?’
For other Ultras, though, there seems to be an unthinking devotion to the first of Evola’s foundations of heroism. Their amount of self-mastery is measured in unflinchingly defending themselves and their group (and whatever group of AS Roma fans they are standing with at any moment). The Ultras most respected by other Ultras are those who have been witnessed standing their ground when under attack. Violence and the Ultras’ ethic of violence were explained in the two previous chapters. As we saw then, aggressive oppositions occur only with great sacrifice and sense of duty toward other Ultras.
Nietzschean Distance and Ultras at Away Games
The heroic principles are supercharged with value in Evola’s work because they oppose the strict utility with which the ‘merchant class’ approaches life. For Evola, the heroism of the warrior functions by way of deep interpersonal commitments and sacrifices, while the utility of the merchant functions only for vulgar self-preservation;196 those who live with a code of honor act from a sense of duty, responsibility, and ‘love of distance’.197 It was often repeated to me that the essence of the Ultras’ mentalità was the experience of the away game; that there one felt an intense brotherhood with fellow AS Roma fans and an undeniable hatred for the enemy. Importantly, one felt hated by the enemy in return. ‘At away games, there is only aggression. We sing against them and them against us. The people in the curva or tribuna [sideline seats] seem so far away from us. Like this, it is difficult to imagine what they think of us or the game,’ Fabio of Boys explained.