Umberto Santino and Anna Puglisi of the Centro Siciliano di Documentazione Giuseppe Impastato made my Palermo trips stimulating and productive. Researchers on the mafia will be ever grateful to you. Cirus Rinaldi and Giovanni Frazzica also contributed to my enjoyment of that strange city during my time there. Thanks to Barbara Grüning for helping with any German translations that came up and for giving me a sense of Italian and even mafia life in comparison with German social life, especially in the DDR. Federica Cabras made me aware of the Nigerian mafia and what young scholars can do while studying young victims of that kind of mafia. Federica Timeto helped me to better understand Sicily and Sicilians, while generously hosting me in Palermo with her cats, showing me films, books, pictures, places and much else. Marco Solaroli and Matteo Gerli helped as research assistants in many professional and friendly ways.
The list of colleagues deserving mention would be too long, but I want to specifically recall here the following: Raimondo Catanzaro, Umberto Santino, Nando dalla Chiesa, Alberto Vannucci, Monica Massari, Maurizio Catino, Federico Varese (who also read and commented on Chapter 3: thank you, Federico!), Felia Allum, Filippo Sabetti, Rocco Sciarrone, Alessandra Dino, Lucia Michelutti, Damiano Palano, Filippo Barbera. Barbara Carnevali deserves a special mention for reading and supporting an early statement of Chapter 2’s ontological argument. I haven’t been so generous with her symmetrical requests of reading, and for this I’m still apologizing.
I would thank Diego Gambetta whose work on the mafia I discovered while writing my undergraduate thesis and attending a seminar he gave in Milan in 1987. His harsh reaction to a critical note of mine published a few years later indirectly fostered my research on the mafia to this day (an exemplary case of unintentional effects of intentional actions, I would say).
Thanks to Richard Burket for your precious and professional help in making my English correct and more readable and much shorter, and to Jonathan Skerrett at Polity for patiently awaiting my chapters over all these years, offering suggestions and encouragement: I’m sure I would never have finished without your gentle but determined spurs.
In the many years I have been working on this book (very slowly at the beginning and then quickly in the last two years), my personal life has been animated by many changes and challenges. Thank you, Roberta, with whom this book project started (as did many other projects, including the biggest one): without you I doubt I would ever have thought about it. Thank you, Federica, for giving me the pathos, flavour, generosity and love of your detested Sicily, as well as a clear idea of what feminism and anti-speciesism may be in sentimental affairs. The Minotaur is still with me! Thank you, Federica, for your critical but passionate approach to mafia studies, your very special antimafia militancy, and your attitude towards life. Battiato has gone, but I always remember you with deep affection. Thank you, Barbara: you have been so close to me so many times and in so many ways in all these years that no words can do justice. Finally, thank you, Chiara: your grace and love is a wonderful ‘free’ gift (it does exist, indeed!). Time will tell us where le vent nous portera.
My son has been a source of joy and personal growth in all these years. I dedicate this book to you, Riccardo. Grazie per sopportare un padre che ti tormenta da quando avevi nove anni per farti vedere Salvatore Giuliano. Ancora non sono riuscito a convincerti. Un giorno lo guarderemo insieme, ne sono certo.
Opening epigraph from: Becoming Deviant, David Matza, Copyright 1969, Prentice-Hall. Reproduced by permission of Taylor & Francis Group.
Epigraph to chapter 3, reproduced with permission, is © 2008 by the University of Klagenfurt, Karl Popper Library.
Epigraph to chapter 5 is reproduced, with permission, from The British Journal of Sociology © 1957 London School of Economics.
Quote
Among their most notable accomplishments, the criminological positivists succeeded in what would seem the impossible. They separated the study of crime from the workings and theory of the state.
Matza 1969, 143
Crime is a political phenomenon and must be analyzed accordingly.
Chambliss 1989, 204
Preface
The political philosophers who taught me a generation ago were quite clear that whatever was to be called ‘political’ must have something to do with the State: if phrases like ‘University politics’ or ‘Church politics’ were used, then they meant that these institutions were playing a part in State politics: otherwise the phrases were simply metaphors. But political structures can be recognized at all levels and in all kinds of activities and can, when appropriate, be compared with one another.
Bailey 2001 [1969], 12
Unlike Frederick Bailey, the political theorists who taught me (in the early 1980s in Italy) were well aware that politics can have a life of its own, quite distinct from the ‘state’. Moving from ideas originally proposed by scholars such as Gaetano Mosca, Vilfredo Pareto, Max Weber and Carl Schmitt, and apparently, though not often explicitly, backed by scientists operating in the life sciences (e.g., Wilson 1975; de Waal 2007 [1982]), they were not afraid to recognize ‘political structures … at all levels and in all kinds of activities’ (to follow the words of Bailey). The so-called ‘mafia’ could easily fit these ideas. In the case of Mosca, this fitness was probably not incidental. As a Sicilian, Mosca was well aware of the limits of the state in monopolizing politics, even though, as a liberal scholar educated in law and committed to national unity, this awareness was not something he could so explicitly and publicly extend to the mafia. In fact, Mosca wrote intensively about the mafia, but never explicitly about it being a ‘political structure’. Weber came closer to this vision, referring to the camorra and the mafia as cases of ‘intermittent financing of political groups’ (1978 [1922], 195) – but it is far from clear whether he considered camorra and mafia as political groups in themselves or as channels for financing more established and acknowledged political groups. Schmitt never wrote a line about the mafia, but his seminal and much debated ‘concept of the political’ is capable of accommodating almost anything that might generate a certain degree of intensity in the relations among friends and enemies – a suggestion that could inspire a whole research programme about all those ‘social unities’ that are commonly labelled as ‘criminal organizations’, including not only mafias but also terrorist groups and even hybrid formations claiming to be states, such as ISIS.
None of these research lines has been systematically pursued in mafia studies – a few attempts moving along these lines notwithstanding (e.g., Sabetti 1984; Calise 1988; Catanzaro 1992 [1988]; Santino 1994; Schneider and Schneider 2004; Collins 2011). In mafia studies, the assumption of an almost perfect and normatively backed equivalence between ‘state’ and politics has been dominant, and only rarely called into question. It is as if social scientists, when studying mafias, tend to believe in states and their claims much more than when they are studying states as such. In some way, this may be considered an indication of the success of criminology, the discipline that, in the words of an influential sociologist of deviance, ‘has managed the astonishing feat of separating the study of crime from the contemplation of the state’ (Cohen 1996, 4). Suspended between the mafia and the state, mafia scholars have little doubt about where to go. If mafia has to do with politics, says the common wisdom, this is only because it also has to do with the state – as an object of law enforcement and a potentially disruptive force within the state (with mafia being responsible for criminal activities such as corruption, collusion and even violence against representatives of the state). Mafias may at best have ‘policies’, but not ‘politics’ – because ‘politics’ is another thing. Or