LA FORZA DEL DESTINO

Matt Frei investigates the electioneering tactics of Europe's most modem and bizarre political party Rome THE CANDIDATE clutched the micro- phone clumsily with both hands, looked at the camera and, flicking back his fringe of slightly greying hair, continued his speech: `We will lower taxes, we will restore confi- dence, we will create another economic miracle.' The candidate thought he was doing well until a shrill female voice inter- rupted him: 'No, No, No! Start again. More stress on "lower", look into the camera, don't be afraid and be careful with the microphone lead. You'll trip up if you're not careful.' The speech therapist, a wiry woman in a garish red suit, was getting impatient. In the room next door, equally bare but for a desk, two chairs, a video camera and a television screen, another candidate was learning how to breathe. 'In and out, in and out,' the voice trainer urged the businessman from Milan while keeping her hand firmly on his tummy. Down the corridor six candidates were watching themselves being interviewed on television.

Luigi Caligaris, a former carabinieri gen- eral, is in charge of political instruction. He moulds what he calls 'the party's raw clay' and teaches the candidates 'how to oil their weapons'. They are subjected to a rigorous programme of lectures about the Italian constitution, the principles of democracy, the workings of parliament and the econo- my. Equipped with a bag of gadgets, including a party tie and pin, a badge, a briefcase, a watch and a foldable hand-held rattle, the candidate is ready to enter the electoral fray.

Welcome to the Dr Strangelove memori- al laboratory of Europe's most modern and bizarre political party, Forza Italia or 'Go For It, Italy!' Its creator and president, Sil- vio Berlusconi, is on a mission to groom 267 parliamentary candidates to look, sound and think as he does. The aim: to get them elected on 27 and 28 March, to make Forza and its right-wing partners, the neo- fascist National Alliance and the populist Northern League of Umberto Bossi, the majority block in parliament and thus Mr Berlusconi prime minister.

The media tycoon-turned-politician is confident of victory. 'I have always carried out my projects and I will do it again this time,' he told reporters. He may be right. Only three weeks after its official launch Forza has become Italy's most popular PAY.

Mr Berlusconi is not just any old tycoon. The former night-club crooner owns half the country's television stations, several publishing houses, advertising and PR agencies, a real estate empire and Italy's biggest chain of supermarkets. It's as if Rupert Murdoch, the Sainsbury family, Lord McAlpine and Max Bygraves all rolled into one stood for election and had a good chance of winning.

Berlusconi has an ego to match. The first time I saw him was last December near Turin, in one of Europe's biggest shopping malls. We thought that Mr Berlusconi had come to open one of his supermarkets. He must have thought he was being inaugurat- ed as president. Having descended from the wintry skies by helicopter, he and his entourage of 15 bodyguards, elegant secre- taries wielding clipboards, advisers and bag-carriers moved through the rows of washing powder, frozen meats and garden chairs like a royal procession. The guard of honour was provided by a phalanx of gig- gling cashier girls in pink. Berlusconi and his perpetual grin levitated past the giant mortadellas under a ceiling dripping with red balloon hearts. I expected him to break into song at any moment. The spirit of Fellini was clearly with us.

When he finally stepped into the political fray after months of hesitation, Berlusconi recorded a nine-minute presidential-style address to the Italian people in which he promised to save the country from another communist menace — the end of the Cold War seems to have escaped him — to give Italy back its self-esteem, to bring about another economic miracle and create a genuine free market. Critics point out that Berlusconi's own companies have com- bined debts of over £2 billion and that his worship of the free market sits uneasily with his own virtual monopoly of commer- cial Italian television. Moreover, although Berlusconi may be new to politics, he has some very old political friends. It was the former Socialist Prime Minister, Bettino Craxi, now disgraced by graft and corrup- tion charges, who helped to redraw Italy's broadcasting law, enabling his friend to acquire three television channels.

But Berlusconi and Forza Italia are a unique phenomenon in European politics. His is not just a party influenced by market research and television; it has been created by them. In its spartan but elegant new Rome headquarters, a restored 17th-centu- ry palazzo near the Via del Corso, Mario Valducci, a management consultant who now acts as the party's national administra- tor, explained Forza's genesis. 'Last September we launched phase one,' the former executive of the accountants Price Waterhouse told me. 'We conducted a market research project which told us that there was a demand for a new right-wing party headed by Mr Berlusconi. Then in December we launched phase two and set up over 7,000 Forza Italia clubs around the country, collecting signatures, selecting candidates, handing out T-shirts, posters and badges. And three weeks ago we start- ed phase three: preparation for the poll and victory.'

Why are so many Italians falling for Forza? One reason is the party's use of what can only be described as blatant pro- paganda on its own television channels. The daily schedules of soap operas and downmarket talk-shows are spiced with election spots that look like a compendium of all the most glossy advertisements. While the advertising budget of other par- ties stretches no further than a dour elec- tion appeal broadcast by the candidate in question, Forza uplifts voters with aerial shots of Italy and a catching tune. It's all very reassuring at a time of great political confusion.

The other reason is Berlusconi himself. In a country which has traditionally despised politicians and worshipped its business condottieri, he is one of the few tycoons not to have been personally tainted with corruption, although his brother Paolo, who is in charge of the family's real estate business, did spend a short spell in jail for bribery. The fact is that after two years of head-spinning revelations the Ital- ian public is suffering from corruption fatigue. Berlusconi is increasingly seen as a political saviour tailor-made for the televi- sion age.

But this isn't enough. To win a majority in parliament under the country's new elec- toral system — 75 per cent first past the post, 25 per cent proportional representa- tion — Berlusconi has had to form elec- toral alliances with the most unlikely partners: the neo-fascists in the south and the populist Northern League in the north.

While Berlusconi's Forza is slick and glitzy, Umberto Bossi's Northern League is gruff and gutsy. Their styles couldn't be more different. During his public address- es, Berlusconi strokes the air like a cat; Bossi punches it with his fists. The latter's speeches, slamming the 'corruption in Rome and the laziness of the south, are laced with menacing insults and curses. The audience is a motley mixture of hard- working dentists from wealthy cities like Mantova and hooligans from the run-down working-class suburbs of Milan. At one recent party rally in Bologna many support- ers were draped in the white and red flag of Lombardy. Several had their faces paint- ed white with a red cross in the middle. One even turned up in full mediaeval body armour in homage to the 11th-century knights of the first Lombard League against the Holy Roman Emperor — the inspiration behind today's political move- ment.

In the foyer outside, vendors were doing a roaring trade in a bizarre collection of League paraphernalia: videos of the recent wedding of Mr and Mrs Bossi, wine bottled by the Lombard League, Y-fronts with the party's rallying cry splashed across the crotch: C'e l'ho duro (`I've got a hard-on'), women's lingerie embroidered with the face of the party leader, as well as cigarette ends smoked and stubbed out by Bossi, sold to the faithful at 1,000 lire or 45 pence a piece. The price of these trophies can only go up, by the way, because Mr Bossi, who suffers from a heart disease, gave up smoking last year.

But my prize for party political recre- ation and style goes to the third partner in the right-wing 'Freedom Alliance', the neo- fascists. The political heirs of Mussolini recently changed the party's name from Movimento Sociale Italiano — a title inherited from the Duce's Nazi puppet state, the Italian Social Republic of Salo to the more harmless-sounding Alleanza Nazionale. Fist salutes and black shirts are definitely out. Dark blue suits and hand- shakes — very firm ones, mind you — are in. `Not neo-fascist,' one of the party's senior members reprimanded me the other day. Post-fascist!' Spot the difference.

The party has definitely changed its style. The only fascist torchlight parade I have ever seen was one involving fruit salads. At a party function over 1,000 'post-fascists' reminisced, chatted, danced and sang in a restaurant on the outskirts of Rome that had all the charm of an airport hangar. When it was time for dessert the lights were dimmed, Verdi's Trovatore seeped from the loudspeakers and a procession of waiters marched in, each bearing a large bowl of fruit salad. Rising out of the sugary stew of diced apples and sliced kiwis was a clenched silver fist with a little gas flame.

Those who still suspect something sinis- ter behind the little flame — which also happens to be the party emblem — can try a neo-fascist ski weekend or a summer cruise through the Mediterranean on the Achille Lauro, the ship that was hijacked by Palestinian terrorists in 1984. I went to the neo-fascist travel bureau on the Via della Scrofa to inquire about the availability of tickets. The man in the shop flicked through his files and, looking decidedly dis- appointed, gave me the bad news. 'The ski weekends are all booked out, I'm afraid. We still have one place on a rambling weekend in the Abruzzi, picnic included. Or, if you're interested in the summer cruise, there are a couple of luxury berths left. And don't worry,' he added, 'Gianfran- co Fini [the party leader] is coming for the whole cruise. You're bound to meet him. He's having dinner at a different table every night.' By then, of course, thanks to Mr Berlusconi, the neo-fascist leader might also be one of Italy's new rulers.

Matt Frei is the BBC's southern Europe correspondent.