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BloombergBusinessweek March 23, 2020SOMETIMES,LITERATURECANHELPFRAMEATRAGIC,
historicmomentandputit intoperspective.Onereference
that’spoppinguponFacebookisTheDecameron, Giovanni
Boccaccio’s1350sbookinwhicha groupofyoungpeopleflee
Florencefora countryhousewheretheyrideouttheplague
bytellingstories.It’sa perfectfitforthecurrentlockdown,
butit doesn’tcapturethephenomenonI’mmostconcerned
about:theabilityofpeopletoremainblindtoa changing
worlduntilit’stoolate.
Forthat,we’llneedGiorgioBassani’sTheGardenofthe
Finzi-Continis.A coupleofweeksback,I watchedmysonhit
tennisballsonorangeclaycourtssurroundedbyumbrella
pineswhileI scannedheadlinesaboutthefirstinfections.
I fearedwewerelivinga versionofthenovel,whichwas
turnedintoa moviethatwonthe 1972 AcademyAwardfor
bestforeign-language film. The Finzi-Continis are an Italian
Jewish family, and during the rise of fascism they feel unjus-
tifiably safe as they play tennis and live out their lives within
the walls of their villa. While their fate—Nazi death camps—
in no way compares to our current situation, I got the first,
unnerving sense that we were living in cloistered denial.
Two weeks ago it had seemed like a big deal when cases
topped 1,000. Now that number seems naively small. The out-
break has infected more than 180,000 people in at least 138
countries and territories, shuttering cities, disrupting trade,
and battering financial markets. As Europe braces for a reces-
sion, Italy is at the center of it all. And we barely saw it coming.
The evening I had my Finzi-Contini moment, I should have
known we were beyond normal. The government had already
closed schools, and soccer practices were banned because
contact would be too close. But tennis continued. Kids made
small adjustments—instead of high-fiving, they tapped the
ends of their rackets.
By March 6, a Friday, the tourists had largely cleared out
of the city, but for Romans life went on with barely a hiccup.
We wanted to support local businesses and planned a din-
ner at a popular restaurant on our cobblestoned street. We
couldn’t get a table before 10 p.m., and then only because the
owner (kiss-kiss to customers’ cheeks) added an extra chair.
By Saturday afternoon, life had started to shift in small ways
that portended further change. Schools had announced what
was supposed to be a one-week shutdown, and one of our
kids followed a workout video sent by the gym teacher. Our
local cinema was still open, but only alternating seats in every
second row were supposed to be occupied.
That evening, we had friends over for dinner (those were the
days). As we tucked into the liver pâté appetizer, we were all
surreptitiously checking our phones. By the time we served the
gelato, the checking was no longer furtive: News leaks indicated
the government was about to extend the “red zone,” which had
closed a dozen towns in the north, to the entirety of the Milan
region and a few other provinces, shutting in a third of the
populace. The leak sparked confusion, even panic, prompting
thousands to abandon what had been a warm evening of Aperol
Spritzes in piazzas and rush onto packed night trains to escape.If they could shut Milan, Rome might not be far behind. On
the sofa after dinner, finishing the last of the bottle of wine,
we contemplated returning to New York before getting caught
ina clampdown.Afterourfriendstaxiedhome,ataround
2:30a.m.onSunday,PrimeMinisterGiuseppeContetookto
theairwavestomaketherumorednorthernrestrictions offi-
cial. Milan, Venice, Padua, and points in between were sealed
off for all but essential travel for work or health reasons.
Less than two days later, those measures were extended
to Rome and the rest of Italy. Conte decreed that the world’s
eighth-biggest economy would be frozen in place. Pubs, dis-
cos, and gambling halls—anyplace people might be in tight
quarters—were closed. Coffee bars and restaurants had to
shut by 6 p.m., and when they were open, they, along with
supermarketsandanyothershops,hadtokeepcustomersat
a one-meterdistancefromoneanother.Theprimeminister
drovehomehispointwitha Twitterhashtag,#iorestoacasa:
“I stay at home.”
Italians reacted with a mix of fear and relief: This was
serious, but now there were rules they could cite in telling
others to mind their personal space. At a butcher shop, I saw
patrons in a line that extended into the street, with every-
one spaced a meter or two apart. At supermarkets, bicycle
deliverymen suddenly appeared, waiting to pick up online
orders. To comply with the rules against nightspots, the
Abbey Theatre Irish Pub, a popular spot for watching soc-
cer, became a restaurant only, turning off its TVs, pasting
signs over the storefront to obscure the word “Pub,” and
restricting drinks and food service to tables. As the curfew
descended, the police showed they were serious, patrolling
the streets with lists of bars and restaurants to check that
they were empty and locked.IN THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED, HEALTH OFFICIALS,
especially in the north where infection numbers were soar-
ing, protested that the measures weren’t enough. Conte lis-
tened, and on March 11 he tightened things further, ordering
virtually all retailers other than grocery stores, pharmacies,
and gas stations to close. Factories, public transit, banks, and
the postal service can operate, but restaurants, cafes, and
bars were ordered to shut down.
Across Italy, the traditions of a gregarious, social people
were upended. The piazzas, the heart of any Italian city or
town, where kids roughhouse and their parents and grand-
parents meet for morning coffee or afternoon cocktails,
were abandoned. Professional soccer matches were called
off. Churches were closed. Local news reports say police in
Sicily issued citations to an entire funeral cortege for violat-
ing a ban on group activities.
What’s happening in the hospital wards—first in China, now
in Italy and the rest of the world—threatens a chain reaction of
unpaid bills, defaulted loans, and perhaps even a banking cri-
sis with echoes of 2008. The economic impact is expected to
be so great that the Italian government has earmarked €25 bil-
lion ($28 billion) for emergency aid to companies and workers