Evicted From Eternity_ The Restructuring of Modern Rome - Michael Herzfeld [117]
The further implications of such accommodation ramify in capillary fashion through local power relations at every conceivable level. When it comes to bribery and extortion, for example, accommodation is the socially easiest way of dealing with a form of civility that dons the guise of friendship ~amicizia~, and that clearly anticipates an equally cordial idiom of response-even though, if a merchant rejects a policeman's approach, he may soon, or so locals assert, find his business in ruins, with permits withheld and a rash of citations for various petty but expensive offenses.
Collusion, on the other hand, would benefit officials and citizens alike. At least in the popular image, affable courtesies grease the wheels, protecting the minor extortionist from sustainable charges and reminding the victim that there is considerable benefit to be derived from cooperating. Reminisced a newspaper vendor, "My mother used to say, 'Eat so others can eat!"' (Magna e fa' magna!) A vendor who was twice stopped by carabinieri for some minor offense was delighted when they asked him whether he had heavy socks in his stock; "for me they were great.... A bunch of socks, and all is fixed!" This is, in short, an attitude that nurtures a commensality of corruption: eat and let others eat. Translated into indifference (menefreghismo), it becomes a more radical collusion with power-but also, sometimes, a means of keeping at least the pettier forms of power at bay and getting on with the ordinary business of life.
Officials quickly learn how to "let things go" when dealing with the people of Monti. An incident recalled to illustrate the former solidarity of neighbors also shows how the very reputation of Monti as "a bit delinquent" (un po' delinquente~ helped to impress on police officers and others the necessity of respecting local ways; it also nicely illustrates the deployment of gender ideology in defense of a collective interest. An official had come to demand payment of arrears on a gas meter. The woman of the house did not have enough money to pay him; the neighbors in other apartments in the building tried to help, but together they could not raise enough money. When the official threatened to cut off the gas altogether, a woman living upstairs on the third floor came down and started screaming at him that he was "a turd" (uno stronzo). He tried pushing her out of the way, whereupon she yelled that he "had put his hands on me" (mi ha messo le mani addosso)- a grave offense from an unrelated male. Then her husband appeared and demanded to know who had done such a thing. When the others indicated the gas man, a violent fistfight erupted. At this point a policeman showed up; but, knowing the kind of people he was dealing with in Monti, he sensibly enjoined restraint and did not try to arrest anyone or issue any citations-it was better, he said, "just to let it go" (lasciamo perde'). Life in Monti was already too complex and dangerous; a policeman who did not understand the social realities might have proceeded with some sort of legal action, giving rise to even more violence and achieving nothing. "Let it go": sage advice, then and now.
Such phrases do not signal only a stoic resignation to the realities of daily living or to the inevitability of conflict. They also demonstrate a recognition that standing on principle can sometimes damage one's own interests. A pugnacious Pugliese, a bar proprietor, who had quarreled with a jeweler when the latter got too friendly with his wife, discovered the latter hanging around near his shop and looking around, so he greeted him quite cordially, and expected