Cover Story

Forza Berlusconi!

Boris Johnson and Nicholas Farrell

06 September 2003

The embattled Italian Prime Minister summoned Boris Johnson and Nicholas Farrell to his Sardinian retreat, and accorded them an insight into his success

The Italian population liked him for his energy and they handsomely returned him. In 2001 he achieved an unprecedented majority, commanding both houses of parliament. He had a huge opportunity to enact what he proclaimed was his vision: a Thatcherian tax-cutting reform of Italy. His enemies went into spasms of indignation and, in truth, one can see the cause of their unease. It is unsettling that one man should have such a concentration of commercial and political authority. It does make one queasy to think that this charming man is not only the biggest media magnate in Italy, owning Mondadori, the biggest publisher, AC Milan, the biggest football club, several newspapers and a huge chunk of Italian television – but is also Prime Minister.

We put these concerns to him and Berlusconi bats it all back in phrases honed with use. No, he didn't go into politics to protect his own commercial interests, as Enzo Biagi, a columnist, has alleged that he privately confessed. 'I couldn't work all my life in Italy with a communist, left-wing government,' he says. No, there is no conflict of interest. People can write what they like in his papers. 'I am the most liberal publisher in history.' And no, the Economist charges are old, footling, groundless, and the table incurs a good thudding as he iterates his defence.

It is quite the done thing, he protests, to pass a law exempting himself from prosecution for the term of his office. Chirac has done the same. But it was never our goal, in this interview, to establish the dodginess of his business practices. We were trying only to judge whether he was on balance a good thing. Our answer, when the trolley-ride finally ends and we are sitting like a pair of oiled guillemots over a beer in Porto Rotondo, is an unambiguous yes.

It is hard not to be charmed by man who takes such an interest in cacti and who will crack jokes at important EU gatherings, not only about Nazi camp commandants but also about whether or not his wife is running off with someone else. There is something heroic about his style, something hilariously imperial – from the huge swimming pool he has created by flooding a basin in the Sardinian hills, to the four thalassotherapy pools he has sunk for Veronica, powered by computers more advanced than those used on the Moon shots.