As I sat down to write this column, I knew there was only one possible topic – an international dispute that had the United States throwing its weight around and the other side refusing to back down.
No, not the Iran negotiations. I’m talking about the much more consequential battle between President Donald Trump and Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni.
History may record that the first one involved nuclear weapons, terrorism, and the future of the Middle East. But the other involved an Italian mother being told she begged for a photograph. Trust me, that’s the more dangerous conflict.
I know that as an American citizen, I’m not supposed to have dual loyalty, but does that include fights over table manners? Not sure, but since I’m 100% Italian-American (150% if you include my stepfather’s side), I feel like I have a vested interest in sorting this out.
I’ve defended Trump numerous times, including as recently as my last column, but if the tough-talking New Yorker doesn’t want to get his lunch handed to him, he’d better apologize to the Italian mother as soon as possible. And I say that not just as someone with his own Italian mother, but as someone who’s been researching his own roots for a book-length study on Italian genealogy. Don’t mess with Mama.
For those of you who have been more interested in falling gas prices or the latest hubbub about the Reflecting Pool, here’s a quick summary of the “Thrilla by the Villa” that took place during and after the G7 summit in the resort town of Évian-les-Bains, France, on Lake Geneva.
The main event was supposed to be Trump vs. the European alliance. The big man brought his big right hook to the fight and rattled European leaders almost immediately with his smack talk and his Iran war. When Trump announced that the Strait of Hormuz was open, the Europeans went to the canvas – more in shock than from the glancing blow.
Despite an undercard full of skirmishes in the street from anti-G7 protesters, it looked like the fight card was over, and against all odds, the octogenarian Trump had prevailed against younger and fitter opponents.
But that was before Trump took a victory lap around the ring and bragged about how one of his vanquished foes had begged for a photo with the champ. That was Giorgia Meloni, the Italian prime minister.
“She begged me to take a photo with her. She wanted a photo with me so badly – I could have skipped it, but I felt sorry for her,” Trump said.
Meloni should have been crushed. Stronger men had fallen hard when Trump used his razzle-dazzle to mock and minimize an opponent, but Meloni got to her feet and threw back as good as she got.
She not only declared that Trump’s claims were invented out of whole cloth, but went for the jugular:
“I can only say it’s a shame he doesn’t show the same resolve toward the enemies of the West and toward the enemies of the United States – toward leaders with whom he, on the other hand, is much more accommodating. But there is one thing he should remember: Italy and I do not beg.”
I knew exactly where she was coming from. Anytime my mother found herself minimized by male chauvinist bosses who thought they could walk all over her, she fought back twice as hard. No surrender.
Likewise, when Trump claimed that Meloni wanted to be photographed with him to help her popularity ratings, she rightly took him to school about his own standing in Europe: “As for my popularity, being your friend has certainly not helped it.”
That’s the crazy thing. Meloni has been the most stalwart Italian ally of the United States in decades. She is arguably the most pro-American major leader in Europe. So why did Trump try to publicly humiliate her? It made no sense, and revealed far more about Trump’s Achilles heel than any weakness on the part of Meloni – namely, his attempts to diminish his allies in hopes of making himself look bigger. That’s a useful tactic against adversaries. Against friends, it’s self-defeating. If she’s your ally, shut up and take the picture.
Trump may not understand it, but every Italian-American reading this exchange already knows who won. You can beat an Italian mother in an argument. You can even beat her in a vote. But once you’ve insulted her dignity, the fight is no longer about politics. It’s about respect.
