A dicembre scorso è uscito il nuovo libro di Emanuele Ricucci (Indecenti, Passaggio al bosco, p. 195), prolifico autore romano, già collaboratore tecnico di Vittorio Sgarbi e di Marcello Veneziani, conferenziere e scrittore di approfondimenti culturali per i quotidiani “Il Giornale” e “Libero”, Indecenti è il culmine di una serie di riflessioni dell’autore sull’uomo moderno, accorata chiamata alle armi per ridestare i suoi lettori dal torpore in cui il politicamente corretto costringe l’uomo moderno.
Ricucci delinea un passaggio dell’età contemporanea dalle masse del novecento alle folle odierne, marcandone le differenze sostanziali. Se la massa era un insieme caotico e indifferenziato di individui – foriera però di grandi mutamenti sociali come le lotte per i diritti sociali, catalizzatrice di spiriti del tempo e cambiamenti -, la folla ne è la degenerazione atomizzata e poco utile, individui senza individualità, costretti a portare avanti rivoluzioni per conto di altri, soli, tanti e disuniti, un mero pubblico che spia un incidente.
In the modern world, where the sacred no longer exists, where the language of Western peoples is no longer anchored in reality but in neo-language that becomes abstract with schwa and improper declensions, the concept of decency also changes.
Previously, decency was the sense of limes, the modesty of good manners as a means of spiritual elevation, of adapting to society so as not to offend oneself and others, at this time the good has been replaced by the right, the right as the measure of those who hold cultural power, a precise metric in which to stand, within the perimeter of ideological right, linguistic right and even sexual right.
And precisely in this sense we have the paradox, where even the sexual revolution has been supplanted by its grotesque parody, think for example of the Sanremo Festival, overflowing with little singing quality but much noise, where Fedez mimicked a live sexual intercourse with Rosa Chemical, in which the singers more than song contested the most bizarre outfit, thirty or forty years behind those who had already done so, such as Loredana Berté or David Bowie, artists for whom stage personality was rebellion and not sterile rebelliousness.
In this case, the words of writer Nicolás Gómez Dávila, who asserts "...after discrediting virtue, this century has managed to discredit vices as well, seem prophetic. Perversions have become suburban parks frequented in the family by the Sunday multitudes."
Quoting Sergio Caputo's song, if the "radio stabs us with the Flower Festival, an angel on the intercom tells us come on out," Ricucci makes an appeal for us to see reason, without moralizing intent, far from it, his indecent people are not saints, they are not heroes, they are men who are becoming sovereign, recomposing themselves and not letting themselves be dominated by the present.
The sexualization of society is then bringing paradoxical effects, in which some research says that twenty-to-thirty year olds have very few real sexual relationships, supplanted in whole or in part by porn, which is not to be condemned in toto, but whose massive scope can lead to impotence even in youth groups. In today's TV bandwagon, sexuality no longer has the gentle beauty of the nudes portrayed by the Renaissance, or the foaming, aching eroticism of Schiele's paintings; it is only a parodistic imitation of the real as an end in itself, a game of uninhabited bodies.
Our advice for these days then is to turn off the television, read Ricucci's book, maybe cook a good simple dish, in short, all absolutely indecent things.
A graduate in Psychology, a political activist, she cultivates in parallel a passion for the topics of political communication, the relationship between the sexes and military history.
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