AMONG the consequences of Silvio Berlusconi’s long ascendancy over Italy is the numbing of his compatriots’ democratic sensibilities. That the most controversial bill before parliament is being fine-tuned at meetings chaired by Mr Berlusconi’s trial lawyer, for example, no longer even merits comment.
The bill, which was to be forced through the Senate with a confidence vote on June 10th, places sweeping restrictions on the conduct and reporting of criminal investigations. Its most obvious beneficiary is Mr Berlusconi. Last year he was embarrassed by a corruption inquiry that stumbled on evidence that he was hosting parties for large numbers of women, including call girls. One of them claimed to have recorded his pillow-talk; a magazine put her recordings on the internet.
Bad motives are one thing; bad law another. Something else to which Italians are largely oblivious is the routine trampling on the rights of suspects and others caught up in investigations. Information is selectively leaked to reporters before the accused come to trial, often creating a presumption of guilt that is difficult to reverse, whether in court or in the public mind. An example is the case of Amanda Knox, an American student, and her Italian boyfriend, Raffaele Sollecito, who were convicted last year of the murder of Ms Knox’s British flatmate. Much of what was published before the pair’s trial (heard by lay as well as professional judges) was irrelevant to the case. But it gave an impression of two young people lusting after extreme thrills. Since bugged conversations can be leaked, blameless citizens recorded talking to suspects can find intimate secrets released to the media.
Some restrictions proposed by the bill are considered normal in other countries. It bans the publication of the details of an inquiry until after an indictment, when journalists will be able to report the gist (but not the exact wording) of recorded conversations; it stops prosecutors commenting on investigations they are overseeing; and it restricts filming in courtrooms.
But Italy is not like other countries. It is notoriously corrupt, so politics and justice overlap. And its sluggish legal proceedings can take years to reach the point of indictment. Opponents of the law argue that it would have stopped many of the scandals that have moulded Italian politics from coming to light until they were irrelevant. But it can also be argued that prosecutors and judges would have been given a healthy incentive to speed things up.
Altogether less debatable are the restrictions the bill seeks to impose on investigation in a country where organised crime is rife. Wiretaps will require approval from a three-man panel of judges and become illegal after 75 days (unless the overseeing prosecutor obtains successive three-day extensions). The bill exempts inquiries into the Mafia and terrorism. But as judges, prosecutors and even conservative police trade unions have stressed, big successes against organised crime grow out of long, painstaking inquiries into more mundane activities like money-laundering and loan-sharking—which are not exempted from the restrictions.
A senior anti-Mafia prosecutor in Sicily has said that neither of Cosa Nostra’s last two “bosses of bosses” would be in prison if the law had been in force earlier. That is a warning Italy’s lawmakers should be taking more seriously than Mr Berlusconi’s right to keep his sex life private.
The Economist - Jun.10th, 2010
The bill, which was to be forced through the Senate with a confidence vote on June 10th, places sweeping restrictions on the conduct and reporting of criminal investigations. Its most obvious beneficiary is Mr Berlusconi. Last year he was embarrassed by a corruption inquiry that stumbled on evidence that he was hosting parties for large numbers of women, including call girls. One of them claimed to have recorded his pillow-talk; a magazine put her recordings on the internet.
Bad motives are one thing; bad law another. Something else to which Italians are largely oblivious is the routine trampling on the rights of suspects and others caught up in investigations. Information is selectively leaked to reporters before the accused come to trial, often creating a presumption of guilt that is difficult to reverse, whether in court or in the public mind. An example is the case of Amanda Knox, an American student, and her Italian boyfriend, Raffaele Sollecito, who were convicted last year of the murder of Ms Knox’s British flatmate. Much of what was published before the pair’s trial (heard by lay as well as professional judges) was irrelevant to the case. But it gave an impression of two young people lusting after extreme thrills. Since bugged conversations can be leaked, blameless citizens recorded talking to suspects can find intimate secrets released to the media.
Some restrictions proposed by the bill are considered normal in other countries. It bans the publication of the details of an inquiry until after an indictment, when journalists will be able to report the gist (but not the exact wording) of recorded conversations; it stops prosecutors commenting on investigations they are overseeing; and it restricts filming in courtrooms.
But Italy is not like other countries. It is notoriously corrupt, so politics and justice overlap. And its sluggish legal proceedings can take years to reach the point of indictment. Opponents of the law argue that it would have stopped many of the scandals that have moulded Italian politics from coming to light until they were irrelevant. But it can also be argued that prosecutors and judges would have been given a healthy incentive to speed things up.
Altogether less debatable are the restrictions the bill seeks to impose on investigation in a country where organised crime is rife. Wiretaps will require approval from a three-man panel of judges and become illegal after 75 days (unless the overseeing prosecutor obtains successive three-day extensions). The bill exempts inquiries into the Mafia and terrorism. But as judges, prosecutors and even conservative police trade unions have stressed, big successes against organised crime grow out of long, painstaking inquiries into more mundane activities like money-laundering and loan-sharking—which are not exempted from the restrictions.
A senior anti-Mafia prosecutor in Sicily has said that neither of Cosa Nostra’s last two “bosses of bosses” would be in prison if the law had been in force earlier. That is a warning Italy’s lawmakers should be taking more seriously than Mr Berlusconi’s right to keep his sex life private.
The Economist - Jun.10th, 2010
