Ed Banfield must have been about 42 when this book was published, yet it has a young man's astonishment and a young man's anger. Shrewd and observant as he was, he seems not to have realized what the world could be like until he settled down here in what was then (as, indeed, now) one of the poorest parts of Italy. It shocked him, as indeed it might have, for any number of reasons. But Banfield focused on just one: "the inability of the villagers to act together for their common good or, indeed, for any end transcending the immediate, material interest of the nuclear family." Until then, Banfield had been (he would surely hate this characterization) an American innocent-one thinks of the Ugly American in Graham Greene's novel, all good intentions and unintentional mischief. The difference is, of course, that Banfield did not remain an innocent: with his unflinching clarity of vision, and his shrewd capacity for synthesis, he used this inquiry to launch himself into one of the most important careers in political science in the 20th Century.
In hindsight, one may be tempted to say that he could have known better. He does quote from "Christ Stopped at Eboli," by Carlo Levi. But in addition to Levi, others had seen what Banfield came to see: one thinks of Verga or Silone (one is tempted to add Sciascia, but most of his work came later). Indeed, closer to home, he might have learnd from Norman Lewis' great "Naples '44."
But this, as I concede, is hindsight. The fact is that you can't think of any other American scholar of his generation in his time who approached this kind of problem in this kind of way.
Banfield's encounter with Montegrano clearly informs his later work: his studies of Richard Daley's Chicago and his later, more general work on city politics and on government in general. Superficially, this may appear paradoxical. In Montegrano, Banfield lamented the curse of "amoral familism." This might seem to suggest a distrust of families, and a hospitality to government participation ("It takes a village..."). Yet Daley's Chicago is a community of families and his later work shows a distrust of government that borders on truculence.
The paradox is, of course, quite superficial. Daley's Chicago is a community of families, but a community with a vibrant public life. And it is the very corruption of government in a place like Montegrano that adds such plausibility to Banfield's later critique. One thinks of James C. Scott and his admirable "Seeing Like a State".
There is another and wholly different virtue of Banfield's work that deserves mention. This is his use of scholarly apparatus. The blurb on my old Basic Books copy says mentions (appreciatively) his "use of T.A.T. materials" along with "intensive standardized fieldwork Neo-Freudian psychology, and structural-functional analysis." Even the concept of "amoral familism" bears the smell of the lamp. It is all bound to send the alert reader fleeing to the new Harry Potter. A critical mistake: Banfield not only survives all the academic detritus, he positively transcends it: he is one of the few who can make this kind of analytical structure produce something plausible and interesting.
Footnote: for further background on Banfield, there is a wonderful appreciation by his sometimes co-author, James Q. Wilson, in The Public Interest for Winter 2003. Google "Banfield Wilson Public Interest moral basis" and it ought to be the first hit.