December 19, 2023  From CopyRiot



Two nights before the news of the death of Antonio – Toni – Negri reached me, I dreamed of him for a long time and his presence was so vivid that when I woke up I felt the need to write to him. My message to the old email address I hadn't used in years couldn't reach him. When I told her about the dream, a friend said to me, "He wanted to say goodbye to you before leaving." Even with the divergence of our thoughts, which became more and more evident over time, there was something stubbornly that connected us, which had primarily to do with his generous, restless, pointed vitality, which I immediately felt when I first met him in Paris in 1987.

With the disappearance of Toni, I have the feeling that something is missing – in me, under my feet, perhaps especially behind me, as if a part of my past suddenly becomes present and missing. And this absence affects not only me, but our whole country and its history, which is becoming more and more mendacious, more and more forgetful, as shown by the hateful obituaries, which only remind us of the bad teacher and not of the bad, cruel country in which he had to live and which he tried, perhaps erroneously, to make better. Because Toni, starting from the Marxist tradition to which he belonged and which may have shaped and betrayed him at the same time, has certainly tried to measure himself against the fate of Italy and the world in the most extreme stage of capitalism that we are currently experiencing, with who knows what miserable end. And this is what those who continue to denigrate his memory neither dare nor would ever be able to do.

Translated from the original Italian by Bonus Tracks.