There are two ways of confronting the tensions that have seized hold of Europe in recent days and weeks. Two ways, that is, of trying to understand the fears (genuine or misplaced), and the promises (vacant or smilingly hopeful), that fill the air. Method A is adopted by well-informed and gravely troubled citizens who read the Times and recall, with a pang, that lovely little place near the Pantheon where they first ate carciofi alla romana. These days, they fret about the rightward lurch that was evident in the elections to the European Parliament in early June; about the armfuls of votes that were gathered in by the National Rally, in France, and that have spooked Emmanuel Macron into calling a snap election; about Fidesz, in Hungary; the Brothers of Italy; and the question of whether there is an alternative, in Germany, to the Alternative for Germany; about mass immigration, climate change, farmers’ protests, and what it all means for the carciofi harvest. Was ever a landmass so plagued, and what on earth is to be done?
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