“People who are against the mafia are no longer afraid to step forward.” – Linda Vetrano, anti-mafia activist
Telford Vice / Catania, Sicily
MARLON Brando and Al Pacino don’t live here. But Sicily makes us an offer we can’t refuse: to come and see for ourselves that the achingly beautiful, elegantly crumbling, rough-edged, warm-hearted island is not a mafia movie set.
Even so, it doesn’t help that the climax of The Godfather III — when Mary, Michael Corleone’s daughter, is killed by a bullet meant for her father — was shot on the steps of Teatro Massimo, the opera house that dominates Piazza Verdi and is the pride of Palermo.
It also doesn’t help that the tourists and Palermitani who tread these ancient streets are assailed by tat featuring Don Vito Corleone, as portrayed by Brando, for sale on everything from aprons to playing cards to beermats.
Let the buyers of this stuff beware. They are paying to own the likeness of a fictional mob boss, but some of the money they spend is probably funnelled to the mafia. The real mafia.
South Africans who think their country has a monopoly on corruption can think again. The sophistication and scale of Cosa Nostra — “Our Thing” — reduces the Guptas to petty pickpockets.
Like South Africa’s first family of financial felony, the mafia’s reach goes all the way to the top. But also all the way to the bottom: most Sicilian businesses pay pizzo, or protection money. Umberto Santino, in his book “Mafia and Anti-mafia, yesterday and today”, describes the practice as “parallel taxation”.
Pizzo could come from pizzu, the Sicilian for beak. As in a bird dipping into many small sources of nourishment. Or it could be derived from the term used to describe the beaker of wheat an overseer was entitled to claim from the peasants who had threshed it. Often the overseer was a smalltime mafiosi.
So your purchase of Godfather-branded goods from a Palermo street seller has a better than even chance of helping to finance the mafia. But while Cosa Nostra still hides in plain sight, it’s not as strong as it used to be. And for that local businesses deserve a large share of the credit.
Around 80% of companies in Sicily used to pay pizzo — either in money or favours, like giving jobs to Cosa Nostra types or using mob-approved suppliers. But the Addiopizzo campaign, which started in 2004, has helped whittle that down to 60%.
Addiopizzo began when a group of friends who wanted to open a bar in Palermo knew they would run into the pizzo problem. So, late on the night of June 28, 2004, they distributed leaflets throughout the city that were designed to look like obituaries. They read: “An entire people that pays protection money is a people without dignity.” More than 1,000 businesses have since pledged to refuse to pay pizzo.
Linda Vetrano, an activist who works in Addiopizzo’s travel section by running anti-mafia tours in Palermo, enjoys pointing out three businesses on Via Vittorio Emanuele, where tourists can marvel at the 12th-century cathedral, enjoy a cannoli and avoid being run over by someone on an electric scooter all in the same few steps.
The owner of a souvenir shop knew the Addiopizzo organisers and naturally felt drawn to the campaign. A bar a few doors down was told to put slot machines on the premises, or else. The owners reported the approach to the police. Addiopizzo didn’t exist when the men from the mob came calling, but the bar became one of the first signatories. Across the street is an outlet of a gelato chain, which signed up before opening its first set of doors. None of their branches have been threatened by the mafia.
Was the tide turning against Cosa Nostra? “No,” Vetrano told the FM. “It’s a very good sign, but it just means that people who are against the mafia are no longer afraid to step forward. There are, sadly, still shopkeepers who either are too afraid or don’t want to be bothered by the mafia. There is an idea that if they pay protection the mafiosi will be on their side. We can call this a mafia mentality, which is the biggest obstacle to be defeated. That will take a long time.”
That’s because Cosa Nostra “live inside our society. They evolve as our society evolves. They adapt. They are not good people, but they are successful because they have managed to integrate.”
South Africans could say something similar about their country’s own corruption corporation. The crooks live among us. And they engineer the opportunity they could, as they have done before, pull the levers of the highest power.
The Guptas are not Marlon Brando or Al Pacino, and they don’t live in Sicily. Neither does the Don of Nkandla, and they’re unlikely to collide with justice on the stairs of an opera house. The best we can hope for is that the Dubai connection holds firm, and makes them an offer they can’t refuse.
First published by the Financial Mail.