Superintendencies in the trenches, between Pnrr to spend and hunger for renewables

They are not seen, but they are somehow everywhere, the forty-four superintendencies of Archeology, Fine Arts and Landscape, peripheral organs of the Ministry of Culture and a symbol, depending on the eye of the beholder, of precious protection or short-sighted conservation, of garrison of the artistic heritage or of a dead end, of anti-dismantling bulwark or of Nimby’s moloch (not in my backyard). They don’t work with trumpet blasts, but when they do they produce long-term effects. They are almost not mentioned, not even evoked, until they exercise their power of veto, for the detractors, or of protection, for the admirers, on works and interventions that concern cities, countryside, sites. And it is in that case that they are produced media, political, legal battles, with appeals to the TAR and appeals, kick drum in newspapers and collected signatures. Several times in the past the question has arisen: should the superintendence system be reformed or not? And if so, how? But now, in a moment of dramatic changes in the economic, social, energetic and cultural order, between pandemics, war, crises and certainties that crumble, the history of these territorial institutions gets confused with the urgency of the energy transition, and the question becomes another: how to speed up the process of adaptation to new needs and current emergencies, while protecting the territory, monuments and cities? How to get out of the superintendence-companies or superintendencies-local administrations (and private citizens) polarization? And you can really draw such clear outlines, with such strong mutual accusations, with the superintendent saying “no” seen as a sort of mandarin, grim guardian of the pastand with the others, those who want to change and innovate, seen as the barbarians who want the dismantling of artistic and landscape treasures?