In a deliberately provocative launch that echoed across European capitals, former Italian general and MEP Roberto Vannacci inaugurated his new party, Futuro Nazionale, before a locked‑down audience of some 1,750 supporters in Rome’s Auditorium della Conciliazione, a stone’s throw from the Vatican. The message was blunt: “Italy for the Italians,” a slogan Vannacci urged the crowd to chant without shame. He hailed his followers as “the scum, the children of nobody, and proud of it,” reading them a French paratroopers’ prayer and attacking the “politically correct” left and the “globalist” centre‑right with equal vigour. Italian press described the gathering as a ritualised repudiation of mainstream political manners, with the neo‑party’s logo flanked by a stylised Colosseum and the national anthem playing before a speech that lasted an hour and spared virtually no adversary.

From the outset, the event was marred by disorganisation that underscored its insurgent, outsider aesthetic. Journalists were crammed into a small side room, barred from the main hall, and prevented from moving freely; one reporter noted fire exits were blocked and a disabled attendee could not reach lavatories. Inside, the assembly drew a heterogeneous mix of post‑fascists, no‑vax activists, former members of the Five Star Movement, Lega defectors, and people entirely new to politics—a constellation Vannacci dubbed his “dirty dozen” in parliament, now expanding into a self‑styled movement of the disaffected. Organisers had screened speeches to avoid fascist symbols and instructed delegates to beware of undercover journalists, whom Vannacci compared to Viet Cong infiltrators hunting for careless talk.

The new party’s positioning is an explicit challenge to Prime Minister Meloni’s three‑party coalition. Vannacci accused the government of perpetuating the “Draghi agenda,” demanding the centre‑right choose between his sovereignty‑focused platform and the Europeanism of Ursula von der Leyen. Forza Italia’s Antonio Tajani retorted that Vannacci’s outfit would become “a fifth column of the left,” while Lega and Fratelli d’Italia sent only low‑level representatives, declining the general’s invitation to the party leaders. Analysts in Rome warn that even modest electoral support for Futuro Nazionale could split the conservative vote, inadvertently boosting the centre‑left opposition. The risk is amplified by reports, strongly denied by Vannacci, of back‑channel messages from former prime minister Matteo Renzi, who has publicly praised the general’s security critique.

Viewed from Berlin, the emergence of Futuro Nazionale raises familiar alarms. German outlets note Vannacci’s contacts with the AfD and his record of racist and homophobic statements, framing the party as part of a broader European far‑right surge that seeks to outflank traditional conservatives. The movement’s rhetoric—remigration, opposition to a wealth tax, and the invocation of “God, fatherland, family”—echoes motifs common to Europe’s nationalist right. Yet Italian commentators remain sceptical about its staying power, pointing to the absence of a clear organisational structure and Vannacci’s reliance on personal charisma. For now, the general has thrown down a gauntlet that tests just how far Meloni can stretch her coalition’s credibility without confronting the anti‑system energies gnawing at its own right flank.