Sometimes that fascination produces genuine electoral success and even stable governments; other times it ends in one of those slightly pathetic psychodramas that mark the decline of a party. Roberto Vannacci, however, is a rather different case.
With his movement, Futuro Nazionale, Vannacci has become one of the most controversial, divisive and closely watched figures in Italian politics. He is not simply another loud populist who has wandered onto a television set. He is a decorated general with an impressive military record, real authority and an undeniable ability to turn widespread irritation into political support.
Born in 1968, Vannacci built a distinguished career in the Italian Army, particularly within the special forces. He served with the Col Moschin regiment, led Task Force 45 in Iraq and took part in operations across Somalia, Rwanda, Yemen, the Balkans, Afghanistan, Libya and other conflict zones. In 2016, he was placed in command of the Folgore Parachute Division, one of the most prestigious units in the Italian military. He later commanded the Italian contingent involved in the anti-ISIS operation in Iraq, earning praise from senior international officers.
His relationship with the military establishment eventually deteriorated. In 2020, he filed a complaint alleging that Italian soldiers in Iraq had been deliberately exposed to depleted uranium. His supporters argue that this clash with the top brass cost him further operational commands and relegated him to more bureaucratic positions. Other reconstructions suggest the opposite: that he challenged the establishment only after realising that his military rise had already reached its ceiling. Either way, it was around this point that Vannacci began transforming from a successful officer into a public and political figure.
The real turning point came in 2023 with the publication of The World Upside Down. The book became one of the publishing sensations of the year, selling tens of thousands of copies. It mixed a few legitimate questions—about nuclear power, European energy policy and industrial competitiveness—with xenophobic and homophobic arguments, climate scepticism, selective statistics and some fairly spectacular simplifications.
And yet the whole thing flowed. That was its strength.
Vannacci used plain language, strong opinions and easy reasoning to tell a large section of the public precisely what it wanted to hear. The progressive press reacted with predictable outrage, while many conservative voters saw a decorated general, wrapped in military authority and professional credibility, finally saying aloud what they privately believed.
It is difficult to know whether Vannacci’s rise was driven more by his own message or by the relentless attention he received from his critics. What is clear is that he soon became a reference point for voters disappointed with Giorgia Meloni’s government. These are people who believe the right entered government promising transformation but ultimately settled for administration, compromise and survival.
This disillusioned electorate includes conservatives angered by Italy’s support for Ukraine and NATO, nationalists unhappy with the government’s relationship with the European Union, people opposed to sanctions against Russia and a broader world of populist, anti-establishment and politically homeless voters. It is a confused coalition, but Vannacci has proved remarkably capable of speaking to all of it.
He has the medals, the military record and the combative image. He is also immediately disliked and mocked by the left—which, in this kind of political ecosystem, is often an excellent starting point.
Matteo Salvini understood the opportunity. Ahead of the 2024 European elections, he presented Vannacci as the League’s star candidate. The move worked spectacularly: Vannacci collected more than 555,000 preference votes, becoming the second most popular candidate in Italy after Giorgia Meloni. His speeches began attracting millions of views, and he quickly became one of the League’s most recognisable political figures.
His success does not depend exclusively on culture-war themes. Vannacci also addresses real and painful issues. His criticism of European environmental policy, for example, focuses on the demand that major industries such as automotive transform themselves almost overnight, often without sufficient resources, supply chains or access to raw materials. He also questions plans to spend billions on European rearmament while education and healthcare remain under pressure.
These are legitimate questions, even when Vannacci frames them through a strongly anti-European or isolationist lens.
Then, of course, there is everything else: the attacks on political correctness, the obsession with “woke” culture, the provocative declarations about homosexuality and the constant use of semantic tricks. When Vannacci calls gay people “abnormal,” he explains that he means statistically less common, with no positive or negative judgement attached. But everyone understands the emotional meaning of the word. The manoeuvre allows him to deny prejudice while delivering exactly the message his audience wants to receive.
This is not an especially original strategy. American conservatives have used it for decades. But Vannacci deploys it effectively in an Italian cultural environment that is particularly receptive to it.
For this reason, he should not be dismissed as a generic television clown. He knows how to combine nonsense with complex issues, place both on the same level and make the resulting argument sound coherent.
Many senior figures in the League never accepted him. Luca Zaia was sceptical, while Attilio Fontana openly described him as an anomaly with little connection to the party’s identity. They had a point: the old League was an autonomist movement rooted in northern regionalism, while Vannacci speaks of national unity, Roman and Christian tradition, military discipline and centralised state power.
The contradiction eventually became impossible to contain. On 3 February 2026, Vannacci left the League and founded Futuro Nazionale, creating the first serious political challenge to the right of Meloni’s governing coalition.
The new party’s programme is unapologetically radical. It proposes restricting abortion rights, banning the abortion pill, requiring women to listen to the foetal heartbeat and abolishing the recently introduced offence of femicide. It also calls for the abolition of civil unions, severe restrictions on LGBT content and openly gay people appearing on television, military education in schools, crucifixes in public buildings and even the restoration of blasphemy as a criminal offence.
At times, it reads less like the programme of a modern European party and more like that of a religious fundamentalist movement. There is also a familiar mixture of isolationism, aggressive identity politics and muscular but simplistic proposals, such as deploying the military in the streets as an answer to crime.
It would be easy to dismiss the entire document as fascist-flavoured political junk. That, however, would be intellectually lazy.
Buried beneath the provocations are several surprisingly developed proposals: nuclear energy, greater energy independence, food sovereignty, stronger strategic protections for Italian industries, more generous support for vulnerable citizens, attention to disability and mental health, and even a remarkably progressive analysis of the prison system.
The programme describes Italian prisons as overcrowded and degrading. It recognises that detention can itself encourage criminality, discusses its impact on human dignity and recidivism, and criticises punishment based exclusively on suffering. Some passages sound as though they were written by the Italian Radicals.
The problem is that the proposed solutions then include more criminal offences, harsher sentences, additional prisons and accelerated trials. The programme manages to be both unusually thoughtful and almost hysterically punitive at the same time. It condemns retributive justice and then enthusiastically proposes more of it.
Still, the ideological work behind it is real. The document quotes figures ranging from Dante to G. K. Chesterton, discusses the emergence of a multipolar world, questions globalisation and expresses scepticism toward Italy’s automatic alignment with the United States. Its historical references are often selective and instrumental, but this is not an improvised collection of slogans. There is a recognisable political architecture behind it, largely associated with Professor Lorenzo Gasperini, one of the movement’s principal ideologues and a trusted adviser to Vannacci.
Futuro Nazionale is therefore trying to gather several different constituencies: right-wing voters disappointed with the government, populists, anti-establishment movements and some of those who had stopped voting altogether. Their shared feeling is simple: no, things are not going as well as the government claims.
Meloni’s government must deal with realpolitik, European alliances, NATO, international crises, compromises and the basic need to remain in office. That is normal. But it is equally normal for disappointed voters to look elsewhere. Right now, “elsewhere” increasingly means Vannacci.
This is not only an Italian phenomenon. Across Europe, traditional conservative parties are being challenged by forces further to their right. Nigel Farage has overtaken the institutional Conservatives in Britain; Germany’s centre-right is under pressure from the AfD despite adopting tougher positions on migration and security; and even Poland’s Law and Justice faces competition from more extreme formations.
Meanwhile, the Italian left remains fragmented, the broad progressive coalition appears directionless and the political centre consists of several tiny parties ruled by leaders who can barely tolerate one another. Under these conditions, the governing right has a strong chance of winning another term.
The real question is whether Meloni should bring Vannacci into her coalition.
If Futuro Nazionale really reaches something close to eight per cent, leaving it outside the alliance could be dangerous. Vannacci could present himself as the only authentic representative of the Italian right, excluded by a political establishment that had betrayed its voters. But bringing him inside the coalition in the hope of neutralising him would also be risky.
Vannacci’s entire military and political career suggests that he is exceptionally skilled at recognising opportunities, moving quickly and capitalising on internal conflicts—even when that means challenging his own leadership. He does not look like the most reliable of allies.
There is another problem: Futuro Nazionale is growing very quickly, but it remains a new party built overwhelmingly around one man. Rapid growth can produce spectacular success, but it can also end in rapid collapse. The movement still needs a solid organisation, a credible leadership class and an identity capable of surviving beyond its founder.
Its current political personnel are hardly reassuring. Several members have changed parties repeatedly; others are involved in investigations or surrounded by serious controversies. The movement combines energy and visibility with a leadership class that often appears intellectually weak, opportunistic or simply reckless.
This exposes the central fragility of the entire project. Vannacci’s populism is broad enough to attract many different kinds of dissatisfaction, but it may also be broad enough for someone else to steal. More importantly, enthusiasm seems attached almost entirely to Vannacci himself. If the figure falls, the whole structure may fall with him.
For now, however, he is rising. He is collecting support, challenging the governing right and dominating attention. This is his golden moment. But turning personal momentum into a stable, rooted political organisation will require much more work.
Fortunately for him, he has time—and neither the Italian left nor its so-called broad coalition currently looks capable of causing him much trouble. All the rest of us can do, as usual, is watch.