Written by Matteo Ciaramella
“The term oriundo is an Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese noun describing an immigrant in a country, whose ancestry is from that same country” An immigrant in their own country. Confusing, I know. It has been a complicated phenomenon for the past century, so today we are here to clear up any doubts about the football players we call ‘oriundi’.
In the Italian football context, oriundi players are those that possess Italian blood somewhere on their family tree, despite usually hailing from South America. They are thus considered Italian, and there have been countless instances in which this reasoning was used to help Italian clubs and the national team.
Curiously enough, this story takes us back to somewhere rather unexpected.
1926. Mussolini’s Fascist Party is on the rise. For those of you who are not aware, a key component in Mussolini’s philosophy and one of the major factors in his popularity was his devoted patriotism. He vowed to make Italy great, and displayed utmost affection for the country’s colors. Knowing this, you will not be surprised to know that halfway through the 1920s, his party decided to create a document called la Carta di Viareggio (‘Viareggio’s paper’) which limited the amount of foreign players allowed on Italian football team rosters. This number was initially brought down to 2 and subsequently to 0 in 1928. So, by the dawn of the 1930s, no team in Italy was allowed foreigners. The clubs, unlike Mussolini, were indifferent to this radical ‘Italianization’, being rather unhappy with the departure of their star players from Hungary, Austria, and Switzerland like Ferenc Hirzer, and Heinrich Schönfeld. So, to preserve the quality of their teams and the league as a whole, officials began looking for loopholes.
At the time, there were lots of debates surrounding la Carta di Viareggio, mainly regarding the riveting question: ‘What makes an Italian, Italian?’ Someone born and raised in Italy by Italian parents? Of course.
What about someone born to Italian parents in a foreign country, or someone with Italian grandparents? This is where the debate had its focal point, but as it turns out, it was Mussolini himself who addressed it and left no interpretation to be made. According to his regime, people with Italian ancestry living in other countries were not foreigners, nor were they immigrants – they were simply ‘Italiani all’estero’ (‘Italians abroad’). No distinction whatsoever was made between those raised in Italy, and those who had never set foot in the country – the only thing that mattered was their DNA. This was in big part due to Italy observing the Ius Sanguinis law, which to this day dictates one’s right to citizenship by blood and ancestry, giving Italian clubs the perfect loophole to exploit and fill the league with ‘Italian’ talent from overseas.
Julio Libonatti became the first oriundo player in Italian history. From 1919 to 1922, the striker played for the Argentinian national team, but when Torino president Count Enrico Marone Cinzano traveled to Argentina looking for new talent, Libonatti was able to make a convincing sales pitch of his talents. This convinced Cinzano, who brought the Argentine – or rather, the Italian – into his club without breaking any rules. Being of Italian origin, Libonatti was able to easily get Italian citizenship, and thus be incorporated into the Torino roster and subsequently the Italian national team.
Mussolini was all for this idea. As an ultranationalist, he only wanted Italian blood in his country, which was perfectly in line with the origins of these players. So, the situation was a win-win for both Mussolini and Italian clubs, who so desperately needed foreign reinforcement. Additionally, as a big fan of the sport and someone who recognized the socio-political power that it held, Mussolini appreciated the oriundis for what they brought to the table. Sports can be used as effective propaganda, and by building a strong national team to compete in international tournaments, Mussolini was delighted with the image of Italy that his team full of oriundis sold to the world.
However unorthodox this strategy may be, it worked, as Italy went on to win the World Cup in 1934 with a staggering 5 oriundi players on their roster and 3 of them starting in the final against Czechoslovakia. The team retained the title in 1938, and despite criticism for this bizarre form of neo-colonialism, Mussolini could not have been more pleased with the “fascist superiority” concept that Italy’s success represented.
After WWII, oriundis kept creeping their way into the Italian football system, both on a club and national team scale. Famous examples from the 1950s-1960s era include AC Milan stars Juan-Alberto Schiaffino from Uruguay and Josè Altafini from Brazil, as well as the Argentinian Omar Sivori, who are considered to be some of the best players of all time. They performed incredibly at the club level, with Schiaffino winning 3 Serie A titles with Milan, and Sivori doing the same with Juventus, in addition to 3 Coppa Italias and a Ballon d’Or in 1961 (which he was eligible for only after his Italian ‘transition’). Josè Altafini even won the European Cup in 1963, and along with the other 2, permanently etched his name into Italian football history.
The other side of this story, however, is their lack of success with the national team. Schiaffino only managed to play in two friendlies and two qualifying games, while Altafini and Sivori took part in the wildly unsuccessful 1962 World Cup, during which the Azzurri failed to get out of the group stage. For this reason (among other ones), Serie A banned entrance into the league for new foreign players starting in 1966, thus putting a temporary stop to the oriundi legacy.
During the late 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s the Italian national team had no oriundi players, despite the gradual easing of foreign player restrictions in Italy. The Azzurri were successful on their own, winning a European championship in 1968 and a World Cup in 1982, making the World Cup final in 1970 and 1994, and a European one in 2000. In 2003, however, Argentinian-born midfielder Mauro Camoranesi came along and paved the way for modern oriundis. He obtained his citizenship thanks to his Italian great-grandfather Luigi. Camoranesi went on to win the 2006 World Cup with the Italian national team, playing an important role in what would eventually become a historic campaign.
After Camoranesi, the level of oriundi dropped. In recent times we have seen figures such as Thiago Motta, Éder, Tolòi, and Emerson Palmieri all make appearances for the national team, with the latter two going on to win the 2020 European Championship alongside fellow (albeit more popular and appreciated) oriundo Jorginho. This has been subject to controversy, as Italy’s current manager, Roberto Mancini, declared in 2015 that “the national team must only be Italian, no oriundi”. This was 3 years before he took charge of the Italy team, but many still question his integrity on the matter. Regardless, Tolòi, Palmieri, and Jorginho are regularly called-up to the Azzurri, in an attempt to carry on the legacy built by the all-time greats that preceded them.
The oriundi practice has gifted Italy with many joys and triumphs. Italians should be grateful for it. However, the oriundo ordeal is dictated by the impractical, outdated law that is Ius Sanguinis, as it often grants Italian citizenship to the wrong people. I have nothing against players such as Mauro Camoranesi, and I acknowledge his distant origins. But is it not unfair that Mario Balotelli and Angelo Ogbonna (both born and raised in Italy by foreign parents) had to go through more trouble than Camoranesi to be considered eligible to play for the Azzurri? Despite his football genius, he should realistically only have been able to represent Argentina. He got his Italian citizenship thanks to his great-grandfather, who not only left Italy at the turn of the 20th century, but also passed away more than two decades before Camoranesi was born. During the 2006 World Cup, Camoranesi was often spotted not singing the national anthem because he did not know the words to it, and he never went to visit his great-grandfather’s hometown, despite being invited multiple times. There is no mild way to put it – he has no connection to the country and most importantly, he has never tried to build one. He is more of a foreigner than an Italian, just like many other oriundi players.
Players should represent nations that are close to their heart. That may be the country they grew up in, where they went to school, where they first learned how to play football, and where they have their childhood friends. Some people are brought up in households where the parents’ culture and homeland are strongly remembered and celebrated, and they may be inclined to play for their country of origin. The point is, I do not want to see someone that feels no connection to Italy representing my country. When players suit up for my flag, they need to feel Italian. It is unimportant whether their Italian lineage goes back to the 9th century or if they are second-generation immigrants. What is important is that they feel the weight of the Azzurri shirt and understand the sacred connotation that it carries for us fans.
References
https://blogs.dickinson.edu/italian-diaspora/calciatori-oriundi/oriundi-players/: Oriundihttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oriundo
https://www.gentlemanultra.com/2017/12/01/oriundi-and-national-identity-in-a-multicultural-italy/: Oriundihttps://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Juan_Alberto_Schiaffino
https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omar_S%C3%ADvori
https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Campionato_mondiale_di_calcio_1962
https://www.ilrestodelcarlino.it/macerata/2009/02/24/153789-potenza_picena_paese_tarocchi.shtml
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omar_S%C3%ADvori
https://calcio.fanpage.it/mauro-camoranesi-l-italiano-di-tandil/