In the tale of Italy’s fight against organized crime, a turning point arrived in 1992 with the assassination of Judge Giovanni Falcone. He stood as a solitary, courageous figure challenging the Mafia and paying a terrible price for truth. The era demanded a shift in strategy: Falcone could not rely on a blood-soaked modus operandi if public opinion was increasingly unforgiving. His legacy lives on in conversations and video testimonials that reveal how the Mafioso world adapted under pressure. The author of Gomorrah, a universal best-seller that peels back the inner workings of the Honorable Society, offers a lens into this complex landscape.
Roberto Saviano, born in Naples in 1979, chronicles Falcone’s life across two catastrophic explosions, one nearly annihilating Totò Riina, the top boss known as the capo di tutti capi, and the ultimate assassination that felled Falcone and his wife on the Palermo road. If Riina’s aim was to consolidate power by killing Falcone, the circle of influence among clans tightened in defiance of the judge’s mission. Saviano frames this through a narrative that reads like a biography of a public martyr, yet built on meticulous research, including a substantial 60-page bibliography to anchor every claim in evidence. The work is not mere fiction; it is a deliberate reconstruction grounded in documented facts and testimony.
“The novel form allowed me to reconstruct dialogues and explain emotions from the inside,” Saviano explains. “Everything rests on evidence, and when a hypothesis is proposed, it rests on preexisting proof.” This approach is part of a broader conversation about how Italy confronts a controversial history. The censorship experienced by RAI after canceling a program last summer stands as a testament to the tension between narrative and accountability. In discussing the work, Saviano faced defamation inquiries from political figures, including high-profile leaders, while accusations of ethical breaches were also raised in the courts.
Postmortem Credits
Threats do not come only from the far right; a cautious, unsettled left sometimes raises doubts about the author as well. Saviano does not shy away from this reality, acknowledging the parallel between Falcone’s lonely courage and the threats that later circled Saviano himself. “Falcone was left alone, a defeated man who earned only posthumous praise,” Saviano remarks, tracing a pattern that many Italians recognize. He recalls an episode that reflects this attitude: when a bomb failed to explode on a Palermo judge, major newspapers suggested Falcone himself was responsible. Years later, a former gang member confessed that the attack was a signal of the Mafia’s unchallenged power. This admission underscores how deeply entrenched criminal influence can be, and how difficult it is to break without risking one’s life.
Two months after Falcone’s death, judge Paolo Borsellino was killed in a parallel strike against the anti-M Mafia effort. Borsellino’s words, that Italy is a beautiful yet unhappy country, reflect a love that fuels critique and reform. Saviano carries that torch, insisting that Italy deserves honest critique and fearless storytelling, even at personal cost. Critics—the British, French, and Spanish among them—have noted how Saviano’s candor challenges prevailing narratives about Italian culture. Some prefer lighter topics like cuisine or romance, rather than a hard examination of the nation’s criminal networks. Yet the author presses on, arguing that truth should not be silenced by comfort or convention.
Andreotti’s shadow
The alleged collusion between the Christian Democrats and the Mafia was a long-standing bone of contention, and Falcone’s contemporaries faced scrutiny for how such cases were pursued. Saviano acknowledges Falcone’s care: careful about what was said and how it was said, aware that colleagues would challenge any bold accusation without solid proof. The era’s politics left many questions unanswered, a reality Saviano treats with measured restraint rather than sensationalism. In this light, the narrative considers the absence of definitive proof and what that means for historical judgment, a nuance that scholars and readers frequently debate when revisiting the era.
What remains of mafia culture in the 21st century? Italy has achieved a strong jurisprudence against the Mafia, and public opinion now leans heavily against it. Yet Saviano argues that the culture is deeply rooted and sometimes invisible, a kind of criminal capitalism where contracts and concessions carry the same logic as protection. The economic power of criminal organizations remains substantial, and some observers see Europe as an indifferent ally—someone to be reckoned with, not ignored.
In 2006, an anonymous journalist in Saviano’s orbit faced direct threats from Cosa Nostra for exposing Omertà and publishing Gomorrah. The author had to receive an escort for protection, a reality that forced him into the global spotlight. The book’s impact was transformative, shaping a new national conversation about crime and justice. If there is a takeaway, it is that courage is a choice rather than an innate trait, and speaking truth to power often requires the kind of persistence that changes a country’s moral compass.