Gaetano Mosca and the Ruling Class

Gaetano Mosca

Gaetano Mosca (1858–1941) stands as one of the great architects of modern political realism and a sober defender of constitutional order. Born in Palermo, Sicily, he rose from provincial beginnings to become a respected scholar, jurist, parliamentarian, and senator in the Kingdom of Italy. His life’s work was devoted to understanding how societies are truly governed—not in theory, but in practice.

Along with Vilfredo Pareto and Robert Michels, Mosca became one of the principal founders of modern elite theory—the study of how organized minorities inevitably shape political power in every society.

In his landmark study Elementi di Scienza Politica (1896)—later translated as The Ruling Class—Mosca advanced a simple yet enduring truth: in every civilization, an organized minority governs the majority. This was not, for him, a cynical observation but a historical constant. Stability, continuity, and cultural achievement depend upon a capable and disciplined ruling class—one shaped by law, tradition, and institutional restraint. Where leadership is competent and accountable, liberty can flourish; where it collapses into demagoguery or mass passion, disorder follows.

Unlike ideological revolutionaries of his era, Mosca favored constitutional government over utopian schemes. Serving in the Italian Parliament and later in the Senate, he advocated prudent reform while resisting political extremism. Although he initially viewed early Fascism with cautious interest amid the instability of postwar parliamentary politics, he never embraced its authoritarian direction. As the regime consolidated power and eroded constitutional safeguards, he distanced himself from its course, remaining committed to representative institutions and legal limits on authority.

Central to Mosca’s thought was the idea that every ruling minority sustains itself through what he called a “political formula”—a legitimizing set of beliefs that secures public consent. For him, elites endure not merely through force, but through organization, competence, cohesion, and a sense of institutional responsibility. Leadership, in his view, was not a matter of slogans but of structure and capacity.

His legacy is one of clarity and realism. He affirmed hierarchy as a constant feature of political life, emphasized the necessity of an organized and responsible governing minority, and understood that civilization depends upon institutions strong enough to channel power without surrendering liberty. His work remains a disciplined reminder that order is constructed, not assumed—and that free societies survive only when leadership is both capable and constrained.

~ By Antonio Isernia

Remembering Blessed Emperor Karl I of Austria

Blessed Karl I of Austria, ora pro nobis

On April 1, 1922, Blessed Karl I of Austria, By the Grace of God Emperor of Austria, King of Hungary, and the rest, died in exile on the Isle of Madeira at the age of 34.

O God, through the adversities of this world You led Blessed Karl from this earthly realm to the crown reserved for him in Heaven. Grant through his intercession that we may so serve Your Son and our brothers and sisters, that we may become worthy of eternal life. Through Our Lord Jesus Christ, Your Son, Who lives and reigns with You in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, for ever and ever. Amen

April, the Month of Awakening

La Bénédiction des blés en Artois, Jules Breton (1857)  

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
~ T.S. Eliot, from The Waste Land

April arrives with a quiet confidence. The struggle of early spring has passed; the earth now yields itself to growth. Fields soften, orchards begin to stir, and the light at last carries warmth.

On April 2nd, the Church honors San Francesco di Paola, the hermit of Calabria, whose life of austerity and humility drew princes and peasants alike. His example reminds us that true authority often emerges from solitude rather than power.

April 3rd recalls Santa Fara, abbess, noblewoman, and founder of the monastery of Faremoutiers. She helped anchor Christian life through discipline, prayer, and the quiet governance of a religious house.

On April 23rd, the Church celebrates San Giorgio, soldier and martyr. His legend, adorned through centuries of storytelling, preserves an older truth: that courage is not merely the triumph over monsters, but the willingness to stand firm when faith itself is under assault.

April 25th brings the Major Rogation Day, when fields and towns are blessed in solemn procession. The faithful walk the boundaries of their land, praying for protection from famine, storm, and pestilence. These processions remind them that the fruits of the earth are never simply taken—they are asked for.

The month closes with the feast of Our Lady of Montserrat on April 27th, honoring the Black Madonna venerated for centuries in the mountains of Catalonia. There, amid rock and cloud, the Mother of God is remembered as both refuge and throne—a presence that watches patiently over a restless world.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, March 31st, Feast of Beata Giovanna di Tolosa

Saints of the Day for April

(L-R) San Giorgio, Madonna Incoronata, Our Lady of Montserrat

April is traditionally the month the Church dedicates to the Blessed Sacrament, inviting the faithful to deepen their devotion to the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist through prayer, adoration, and reverence.

• The last Saturday in April is the Feast of the Madonna Incoronata
• April 1 — Feast of San Lodovico Pavoni
• April 2 — Novena to San Leone Magno
• April 2 — Feast of San Francesco di Paola
• April 3 — Feast of Santa Fara (Burgundofara)
• April 4 — Feast of San Benedetto il Moro
• April 5 — Feast of San Vincenzo Ferreri
• April 8 — Prayer for Servant of God Maria Rosa Zangara
• April 9 — Feast of San Demetrio di Tessalonica
• April 10 — Feast of San Michele dei Santi
• April 11 — Feast of San Leone Magno
• April 12 — Feast of San Giuseppe Moscati
• April 12 — Feast of San Giulio I Papa
• April 14 — Novena to San Giorgio Martire
• April 15 — Feast of San Cesare de Bus
• April 16 — Feast of San Benedetto Giuseppe Labre
• April 17 — Feast of Sant'Aniceto

• April 18 — Novena to Our Lady of Montserrat
• April 19 — Feast of Sant’Espedito di Melitene
• April 20 — Feast of Sant’Agnese di Montepulciano
• April 21 — Feast of Sant’Anselmo d’Aosta
• April 23 — Feast of San Giorgio Martire
• April 25 — Feast of the Madonna delle Armi
• April 25 — Feast of San Marco Evangelista
• April 25 — The Greater Rogations

• April 26 — Feast of Santi Cleto e Marcellino
• April 26 — Feast of Santa Franca Visalta
• April 27 — Feast of the Madonna di Monserrato
• April 27 — Feast of Santa Zita
• April 28 — Feast of San Vitale
• April 29 — Novena and Consecration to San Michele Arcangelo
• April 29 — Feast of San Severo di Napoli
• April 30 — Feast of Santa Caterina da Siena
• April 30 — Feast of Beato Benedetto da Urbino

Holy Thursday at Our Lady of Sorrows Church in Jersey City, New Jersey

Apocalypse Now: A Friendly Billion-Dollar Wager

My friends and I are currently locked in a hotly contested dead pool with a prize of one billion U.S. dollars. This is not the usual celebrity or politician affair. We have standards. Ours concerns the manner in which the Earth will meet its end.

I’ve put my money on the imminent return of our alien ancestors and the total enslavement of the human race. It feels long overdue. Others favor more conventional catastrophes: nuclear holocaust, a virulent plague, global warming, a new ice age, a sequel to the Great Flood, or even a rerun of the Permian–Triassic extinction event—because once just wasn’t enough.

The theological wing of the pool is divided between Ragnarök, the Rapture, and the Apocalypse, each argued with surprising confidence by people who still renew their gym memberships.

Our friend Concetta, however, chose death by asteroid. She has been insufferable ever since learning that Asteroid 99942 Apophis is scheduled to pass dangerously close to Earth on Friday, April 13, 2029. She’s already rehearsing her victory speech.

I remain confident that her celebration is premature and our future alien overlords will simply swoop in and blast the rock out of the sky. After all, one doesn’t cross the universe to conquer a planet without protecting the prize. Our esurient saviors will save the day.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, March 30th, Feasts of Beato Joachim di Fiore and San Giovanni Climaco 

Il Portastendardo di Civitella del Tronto (n. 57 - Marzo 2026)

Photo of the Week: Egyptian Granite Atlantes at the Entrance of the Round Hall, Vatican Museum

Photo by New York Scugnizzo

Candlelight Way of the Cross in Brooklyn, New York

A Thin Lent and a Restless Heart

Justice and Divine Vengeance Pursuing Crime (1808) by Pierre-Paul Prud'hon

As Holy Week approaches, I find my Lent lacking. The practices I keep—Mass, daily prayer (hesychasm, the Holy Rosary), and fasting—are already part of my routine. Even my other devotions come easily. There has been little real sacrifice.

For almsgiving, I do what I can, though my resources are limited. The other night, for example, I bought food for a homeless man begging for something to eat beside a hot dog stand. He refused it and asked for money instead. Unsure whether to discard it—wasting food—or eat it myself—which would break my abstinence—I returned it to the vendor at a loss.

Apart from this, life remains relatively comfortable. On Sundays, I visit museums after Mass, then share meals with friends and family. In the evenings, I read, write, and tend to small hobbies—such as philately and stargazing—and watch the occasional film. None of it is wrong, but I question whether I should be setting more of it aside.

What troubles me most is not what I do, but what I lack. I do not see in myself a true conversion of heart. I grow angry at the corruption around me and the dishonesty of those in power. I want justice, but I worry that this desire for retribution borders on vengeance. That, more than anything, shows how far I still have to go in trusting God’s justice.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, March 28th, Feast of Saint John of Capistrano

Holy Week at Holy Trinity Church in Hackensack, New Jersey

Remembering Princess Cristina Pia of the Two Sicilies

24 December 1869 – 28 March 1870

In memory of Princess Maria Cristina Pia Anna Isabella Natalia Elisa di Borbone delle Due Sicilie, daughter of SG King Francesco II and Queen Maria Sophia of the Two Sicilies, we pray for the happy repose of her soul.

Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord and let perpetual light shine upon her. May her soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

Good Friday Traditional Latin Mass Shuttle

Remembering Charles III, Duke of Parma

14 January 1823 – 27 March 1854

In memory of Carlo III di Borbone, Duke of Parma and Piacenza, we pray for the happy repose of his soul. While out for a stroll on Sunday 26 March 1854, the Duke was mortally wounded by an assassin’s blade and died at 5:30 PM the following evening on 27 March.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

Celebrating the Solemnity of the Annunciation at Transfiguration Church

Et ait Angelus ei: Ne timeas Maria, invenisti enim gratiam apud Deum. Ecce concipies in utero, et paries filium, et vocabis nomen eius IESUM. (Lk 1:30–31) *

On Wednesday evening, the Solemnity of the Annunciation was beautifully observed at Transfiguration Church in Chinatown, New York. The turnout was remarkable—the church was nearly full.

I was glad to see that the church had retained the Passiontide custom of veiling statues in purple, a striking reminder of mourning, penance, and of Christ hiding Himself from His persecutors. The Sung Latin Mass featured Byrd’s Mass for Four Voices, performed beautifully by the choir, whose effort elevated the Liturgy.

Before Mass, there was an unexpected moment. On my way out, a friendly Border Collie wandered up to me and began playing at my feet. His owner, a tall blond woman, soon followed and introduced him—Benjamin, a therapy dog. Learning that, I joked that it must have been what drew him to me.

In passing conversation, I mentioned that I was on my way to church. She asked if I was Catholic, and then why Catholics “worship” Mary. I explained that we do not worship the Virgin; we honor her as the Mother of God, and worship God alone.

She replied that most Christians do not venerate her—a claim that is not quite accurate, given that most Christians are Catholic. Already running late and not inclined to debate, I answered simply: “Well, that’s their problem,” patted Benjamin one last time, and made my way to church.

After Mass, we broke the Lenten fast with a simple serving of pommes frites. A modest end to a solemn day—marked by grace, music, and the quiet persistence of faith.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, March 26th, Feast of Beata Maddalena Caterina Morano

Notes
* The Angel said to her: Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found grace with God: behold thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and shalt bring forth a son, and thou shalt call His Name Jesus. (Lk 1:30–31)

Traditional Holy Week at Our Lady of Sorrows Church in Jersey City, New Jersey

Feast of Beata Maddalena Caterina Morano

Beata Maddalena Caterina
Morano, ora pro nobis

March 26th is the Feast of Blessed Maddalena Caterina Morano (1847–1908), a Piedmontese religious sister of the Salesian Sisters of Don Bosco, devoted to the education and spiritual formation of young people. Born in Chieri, Piedmont, she became a teacher at a young age and later joined the Daughters of Mary Help of Christians, inspired by the mission of Saint John Bosco.

Sent to Catania as a missionary, she founded schools, oratories, and houses for poor and abandoned girls, becoming a beloved mother and educator. Known for her charity, humility, and tireless dedication to youth, she played a key role in expanding the Salesian mission in Sicily.

She was beatified in 1994 by Pope John Paul II. Her life remains a model of joyful service and unwavering faith.

Evviva Beata Maddalena Caterina Morano!

In celebration of her feast, we offer this prayer:

Prayer to Blessed Maddalena Caterina Morano

Father, you planted in the heart of the virgin, Blessed Madeleine Morano, your word of truth, which prompted her to dedicate herself with constancy and wisdom to the education of the young: grant that through her intercession and following her example, we may be docile to the action of the Spirit in fulfilling with joy your loving design. We make our prayer through your Son Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God for ever and ever.

Ponderable Quote from Textos de Doctrina Política by Juan Vásquez de Mella (IV)

Juan Vásquez de Mella y Fanjul
(8 June 1861—26 February 1928)

Because you hold a very strange concept of the Nation and of the Fatherland, which you confine within the narrow limits of the present. The nation is like the human organism, which is governed by the law of constant renewal whereby all the molecules that compose our body disappear, yet the spiritual soul remains, revealed through the continuity of memory and the unity of consciousness. And thus, in the generations that succeed one another upon the national soil, there is also a soul, a vital activity, and, in a certain sense, an informing principle—not subsisting as does that of individuals, but resulting from the beliefs, sentiments, aspirations, interests, memories, and hopes that form that treasury which tradition transmits from one generation to another, as though it were an ark in which the living essence of the Fatherland were enclosed. 

It forms the solidarity among generations, which resemble the waves of an immense river that one day reflects serene and starry skies and another day dark tempests; that one day mirrors the greatness of Covadonga and another the misfortune of Guadalete; one day the shadow of Alarcos and another the splendor of Las Navas, the glory of Lepanto, or the sublime misfortune of Trafalgar; yet which always flows along the channel of History, traced through the march of the centuries by the tradition of a people. When the will of the nation—the nation which is not the fortuitous aggregate of people gathered within the shifting limits of a territory, but the moral organism of a series of generations united by an internal spiritual bond—arises, not as the fleeting and passing work of a day, not as an ephemeral will, but as a constant and enduring will revealed in the perennial traditions of History, then those institutions which depart from that tradition and that national spirit, which do not wish to derive their title from it, or which attempt to divert that current from its natural channels, are swept away and cast into the abyss from which they cannot rise again, for they sink forever, and the principle of tradition passes triumphantly over their ruins, to continue History.

Translation my own. Speech delivered in the Congress, May 6, 1898; published in Juan Vásquez de Mella, Textos de Doctrina Política, Preliminary Study, Selections and Notes by Rafael Gambra (Madrid, 1953), p.28.

Palm Sunday at the Oratory of St. Josaphat in Bayside, New York

Simple Pleasures: Pulcinella-Themed Gifts at the Italian American Emporium in Little Italy, New York

Traditional Neapolitan Pulcinella dressed in cotton with
hand-painted terracotta hands, feet, and heads

Found a couple of Pulcinella-themed gifts imported from Naples at the Italian American Emporium in Little Italy, New York. A classic character from the commedia dell'arte, dating back to 17th-century Naples, Pulcinella is often shown with a hooked nose and a black mask, symbolizing the Neapolitan spirit and representing the voice of the people and the complexity of the human soul.

Hand-painted terracotta Pulcinella mask

From the Museum to the Drawing Board

Young Ladies of the Village, 1851-52, oil on canvas, Gustave Courbet

Lately, I have been thinking about taking life drawing and painting classes again. My recent experience with writing courses has made that decision easier. Friends have been encouraging me for some time, and I finally decided to give it a shot.

If I am honest, there is also a sense of guilt. I was given some natural ability, and my parents believed I would develop it further. Instead, I let many years pass without seriously pursuing it.

Summer, 1911, bronze, Aristide Maillol

Another reason comes from my frequent visits to galleries and museums. Standing before paintings and sculptures awakens something that never quite went away. It reminds me that art once played a much larger role in my life.

Now I am well past my prime. My hand is less steady, and my eyesight is not what it was. Still, it is never too late to try again.

I have no expectations of success, and no interest in popularity or money. The goal is simpler than that. I just want to create something—and in doing so, make myself a little happier.

As I prepare for my first class, I went back to the Metropolitan Museum of Art for inspiration, revisiting the European sculpture court and a few of my favorite figure paintings, especially those by Camille Corot (1796–1875) and Gustave Courbet (1819–1877).

Corot’s figures are quiet, introspective, and poetic, shaped by soft light and muted color. Courbet’s, by contrast, are grounded, weighty, and direct, presenting ordinary people with an unidealized, almost confrontational realism.

While I am nowhere near their level, I look forward to putting pencil to paper and being surrounded by others who take creating seriously.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, March 24th, Feasts of San Gabriele Arcangelo and Sant’Aldemaro da Capua

(L) Alphonse Promayet (1822-1872), 1851, oil on canvas, Gustave Courbet. (R) Louis Gueymard as Robert le Diable, 1857, oil on canvas, Gustave Courbet

(L) Woman in a Riding Habit (L'Amazone), ca. 1855-59, oil on canvas, Gustave Courbet. (R) Madame Auguste Cuoq (Mathilde Desportes, 1827-1910), ca. 1852-57, oil on canvas, Gustave Courbet

Woman with a Parrot, 1866, oil on canvas, Gustave Courbet

(L) The Woman in the Waves, 1868, oil on canvas, Gustave
Courbet. (R) The Source, 1862, oil on canvas, Gustave Courbet

(L) Sibylle, ca. 1870, oil on canvas, Camille Corot. (R) A Woman
Reading, 1869 and 1879, oil on canvas, Camille Corot

Bacchante by the Sea, 1865, oil on wood, Camille Corot

Bacchante in a Landscape, 1865-70, oil on canvas, Camille Corot

Bather, 1782, marble, Jean Antoine Houdon

Andromeda and the Sea Monster, 1694, marble, Domenico Guidi

(L) Leda and the Swan, 1654, limestone, Michel Anguier. (R) The Nymph of Dampierre, marble, signed and dated 1763, Louis-Claude Vassé

Girl with Doves, ca. 1780, cast terracotta, Claude Michel, called Clodion

Festmesse anlässlich des Todestages

Finding The Calypso

An old black-and-white photograph of my father's fishing boat

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I recently began taking creative writing classes. One of our first exercises was deceptively simple: choose a random photograph and write whatever it inspired. No research. No overthinking. Just let the image guide you.

For the exercise, I chose an old black-and-white photograph of my father’s small fishing boat. I’ve only ever seen the picture; the boat itself was lost before I was born. My father said the boat sank during a bad storm in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn. It had been moored to a pier, and if I remember correctly, he forgot to clear the clogged scuppers. The storm intensified, rainwater collected, and the boat slipped beneath the surface. He couldn’t afford to raise her.

My father was a skilled and passionate fisherman, but owning a boat was different from fishing off one. He bought it impulsively from a friend—cheap, enthusiastic, and short on experience.

The Cousteau Society logo, depicting the nymph Calypso with a dolphin

In my story, I named the boat The Calypso. I never knew its real name. But choosing that name sent me off on an unexpected tangent. “Calypso” immediately brought to mind one of my childhood heroes, Jacques-Yves Cousteau, and his famous research vessel. Cousteau’s Calypso, in turn, was named after the sea nymph in Homer’s Odyssey, who detained Odysseus on her island, Ogygia.

That single invented name pulled a thread that unraveled an entire tapestry of memory.

Illustration from Jules Verne's Twenty
Thousand Leagues Under the Sea (1870):
Captain Nemo and Professor Aronnax
view Colapesce from the Nautilus 

A precocious and imaginative child, my interests rarely stayed in neat categories. Oceanography, art, mythology, fantasy, and science fiction blended seamlessly in my mind. I devoured Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Captain Nemo and the Nautilus felt as real to me as any historical figure. I was equally fascinated by Scylla and Charybdis, by Galatea and Pygmalion, by nymphs and nereids, by Atlantis rising and sinking in equal measure.

Even folklore crept in—tales like Colapesce, the boy who could live beneath the sea, holding up Sicily on his shoulders. Later, films like The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou felt less like parody and more like a knowing wink to that same childhood wonder.

Looking back, I realize those interests weren’t separate at all. They were syncretic, overlapping currents feeding the same internal ocean. The photograph of my father’s lost boat became a portal. It wasn’t just a writing prompt; it was a convergence point between experience and imagination.

And with it, the desire to make things again.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, March 23rd, Feast of San Giuseppe Oriol

Annunciation at the Oratory of St. Josaphat in Bayside, New York

Gustave Moreau at the Met

Salome with the Head of John the Baptist,
oil on wood, ca. 1876, Gustave Moreau (1826-1898)

A couple of paintings by Gustave Moreau, currently on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, recently brought back a vivid memory.

My copy of Between Epic and Dream

In 1999, the museum hosted a major exhibition, Gustave Moreau: Between Epic and Dream. I had first encountered Moreau’s work years earlier in high school, and that exhibition was my first and only chance to see many of his paintings in person. Captivated by the strange, jewel-like worlds of the French Symbolist painter, I felt that his canvases were less like illustrations of myth and scripture than visions—rich with color, ornament, and mystery.

I remember walking slowly through the galleries, examining the intricate details and shimmering surfaces. I had brought a date with me that afternoon. While we lingered in front of the paintings, she seemed largely uninterested. The contrast between my fascination and her indifference became clear quickly, and by the time we left the museum, I had already decided there would be no dinner.

I didn’t take photographs that day—I don’t think they were allowed—but I did buy the exhibition catalog, which I still own. Looking at Moreau’s work again now, even in a small group of paintings, instantly brought that afternoon back. Some exhibitions leave a lasting impression. That one definitely did.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, March 22nd, Feast of Sant'Isidoro l'Agricoltore

(L) Salome with the Head of John the Baptist, oil on wood, ca. 1876. (R) Oedipus and the Sphinx, oil on canvas, 1864, Gustave Moreau (1826-1898)