Jonathan Turley

Opinion columnist

After the new White House communications director, Anthony Scaramucci, went on a profanity laced tirade in a conversation with New Yorker writer Ryan Lizza, Scaramucci explained that he sometimes uses “colorful language,” and many noted that this was part of his Italian heritage.

Indeed, Italians are known for their passionate speech, but there are a couple of useful lessons in this scandal. Consider it my own Rosetta Stone language program for those who want to understand casual Italian.

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Like Scaramucci, I come from a large Italian family. Both of our grandfathers came to this country about the same time. My maternal grandparents were from the same village in Sicily (my name is from the Irish side of my father). There is indeed a “problem of translation” that occurs when outsiders come into an Italian family. When I first took my wife, Leslie, to meet my family in Chicago, she witnessed a fight between my mother and one of my sisters in which my sister Angela told her kids to “say goodbye to your grandmother,” since they would never see her again. Leslie was almost in tears and asked me to “do something.”

At first I was confused and realized she was referring to the argument. I explained that by evening they would be at the kitchen table having coffee. They were.

The point is that Italians do speak to each other in ways that can shock people. When my Irish family says that you are dead to them, they mean it. They will next see you at your funeral. When Italians say it, it could last until … dinner.

It does not mean that there are not red lines. When one of my sisters was going out with a guy that Mom opposed, the two had a full cathartic scream session. However, when Jennifer moved toward the door, my mother met her with a broom and said, “I gave you life and I can take it away.” Jennifer turned around and went upstairs. My mother then collapsed on the couch. As my father and I comforted her, I turned to Dad and said that we had witnessed perhaps the greatest moment of maternal Italian history: My mother had succeeded in actually hyperventilating in arguing with one of her daughters. It was the equivalent of Tenzing Norgay and Edmund Hillary reaching the top of Mount Everest or Roger Bannister breaking the four-minute mile. It was perfection — pure passion driving an athlete past her physical abilities.

The point is that these comments reflect both a depth of love and vulnerability among Italian family members. The problem is that the same comment can make you look like an unchained lunatic if you say it in a subway … or to a reporter.

Scaramucci, however, forgot a few unwritten rules for Italian venting.

First, we actually do not speak this way to non-Italians. Even relatives like Leslie in my family are viewed as non-combatants. Years of conditioning prepare us for understanding that being told as a kid that your mom will cut off your hand if you take another cookie means simply that you have had enough. So when Scaramucci said he wanted to “kill” staffers, it sent staffers to the news media saying that they felt unsafe. Of course it did. Telling someone you will cut off their hand if they take another roll at a restaurant is taken not as maternal but homicidal.

Second, we never do this in public, except in controlled and entertaining environments such as weddings, where there are contextual warnings of the cultural content, like Italian bunting or a majority of guys named Dominick and Tony. Telling a stranger that your co-worker likes to engage in self-fellatio tends to confuse non-Italians who try to determine whether that is physically possible and legally permissible. They don’t get it.

Third, Italian venting is a matter of focus even when it seems indiscriminate. Though most people who have witnessed an Italian tirade can be shocked or even fearful, they are actually controlled explosions by experts bred for such displays. This is why the best firework companies are Italians — Zambellis, Gruccis, Parentes, Fazzonis, Rozzis, Cartianos, de Sousas and others. They were raised in environments of controlled explosions and know how to use them safely. Scaramucci might have thought he was talking to a fellow paisan, but there is a difference. Lizza is not paisan, he is press. His job is to report. Scaramucci tweeted, “I made a mistake in trusting in a reporter. It won’t happen again.” Well, that should not have taken a scandal to learn. In Italian tirades, the difference between a beautiful high-altitude firework and an indiscriminate street explosion is control.

Scaramucci showed the cost of an uncontrolled Italian explosion. In so doing, he did not harm just himself but also his administration. At a time when the White House had to convey strength and strategy to jittery GOP members on Capitol Hill, he conveyed not passion but panic. He should have known that. This is why NFL players do not randomly tackle people on the street. They are professionals and know when a sack is appropriate and when it is a felony.

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Scaramucci is right when he said, “I’m not trying to build my own brand off the f---ing strength of the president. I’m here to serve the country.” He can serve it better than this.

What he said was outrageous and amateurish. And do not blame it on us. To paraphrase the late senator Lloyd Bentsen, D-Texas, I know Italian venting. Italian venting is a friend of mine. This is not Italian venting.

Jonathan Turley, the Shapiro Professor of Public Interest Law at George Washington University, is a member of USA TODAY’s Board of Contributors. Follow him on Twitter @JonathanTurley.

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