Berlusconi's Italy shows a strange type of feminism

Surely only the most unreconstructed of chauvinist societies would elect and tolerate such a man as its head of state, a man who appears to treat women as commodities to be bought and sold for the indulgence of his ego.

Here is a man who holds the second highest office in Italy (let us not forget the Pope). He has won it three times now, and on each occasion there have been serious questions about his performance. Yet he appears to have interpreted the role of Prime Minister of the Republic of Italy as a cross between that of a nightclub entrepreneur and a cabaret act (many of the most amusing anecdotes about his parties include details of his singing and his proclivity for make-up). Il Cavaliere, as he is known, is an exaggerated, cartoon version of your standard Italian male stereotype: vain, pompous, full of hot air, patronising and sexually insecure. He certainly fancies himself as a big shot with the ladies, but all the evidence points to the contrary.

In fact, many Italians see his philandering not as an expression of his insatiable virility but, as one friend to whom I spoke at the weekend put it, clear evidence of his sexual impotence. Poveretto,” she said. “He can’t get it up any more, so he has to ship in carloads of hookers to make him feel like a man again.”

Although my friend may be furious about his behaviour, underneath her exasperation there is a weary acceptance. He is, after all, an Italian man. What else do you expect?

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