Turin, virtue signalling and mosque building

According to its legend, Turin sits at the intersection of two magical triangles—one good, one evil—though its city politics seem firmly entrenched on the dark side.

The City Council, ever eager to embrace grand gestures, passed a motion to recognise the State of Palestine with nearly unanimous support. The applause that followed was almost certainly as grand as the gesture itself, an attempt at political relevance that, much like the city’s historic landmarks, offers little in the way of tangible impact. Meanwhile, a second motion, requesting the Italian government to encourage the recognition of Israel by the thirty or so countries still unwilling to do so, was met with a decidedly underwhelming response. A mere five votes in favour, seven against, and ten abstentions—a fitting reflection of Turin’s peculiar ability to speak loudly without ever committing to anything substantive.

This curious result speaks volumes about the city’s inclination toward the politically fashionable over the politically meaningful. Recognising Palestine, a concept that is at once distant and abstract, is far less troublesome than supporting Israel, a sovereign state with a long and complicated history. Turin’s City Council, it seems, is more comfortable aligning with the former than the latter. It is the sort of diplomatic manoeuvre that offers the comfort of virtue without the burden of consequence.

In parallel to these political performances, Turin has decided to turn its attention to the important issue of Islamophobia. New centres are being established to track and report such incidents, a move that might be seen as progressive in certain circles. Yet, the city’s approach to religious integration seems a touch contradictory when viewed alongside its rapid expansion of mosques. The Nebiolo Foundries, for instance, are now slated to host a mosque, part of a broader urban transformation that quietly reshapes the city’s religious landscape. There is, perhaps, something a little disingenuous in championing the cause of inclusivity while overlooking the complexities of the very changes that are being celebrated.

Turin’s political scene, then, reveals a city more adept at virtue signalling than at grappling with the real issues at hand. Its political gestures are as grand as they are hollow, offering the illusion of progress without the substance. The city’s politicians have perfected the art of appearing engaged without ever having to confront the uncomfortable realities of the world outside their chambers. In doing so, Turin sets a masterclass in how to appear forward-thinking while sidestepping the hard work of actual governance.

In the end, Turin may not be changing the world, but at least it’s giving us a front-row seat to the freak show.