Covid-19 Archives - Contemporary Humanism

Fundamental Freedoms and the Problem of Freedom (Stefano Biancu)

For more than a year now, we have been witnessing the biggest limitation of fundamental freedoms since the Second World War, at least in Europe and in many democratic countries. Limitations on social life, on traveling, on worship have become daily life for us. An unprecedented limitation of freedoms (in the plural) urges us to question ourselves about the nature of freedom (in the singular): what does it mean to be free?

The Ideal and the Concept of Freedom

When you lose something, you often learn the hard way how important it was what you had taken for granted. Today, in the midst of a long health emergency, being confined and limited in many ways, we perceive how essential freedom is. At the same time, we find it hard to say what is this freedom that we miss so much. The ideal of freedom is clear: we all agree on how important freedom is. But the concept of freedom is complex and someway mysterious: it is not easy to say what freedom really is.

Freedom is certainly a set of simple things: gathering with family and friends, traveling, going to the cinema or to an art exhibition, having a coffee sitting at a bar table, eating a pizza with friends, moving around, taking a walk under the stars in the middle of the night, not being forced to wear a mask. We understand all this very well: it is what we miss. But we are aware that freedom is not just that.

To try to understand what freedom is, let’s start with a distinction that has become a classic: the distinction between negative and positive freedom. It is a distinction already proposed by Immanuel Kant,[1] but which has become a classic after the famous inaugural lecture on “Two Concepts of Liberty” that sir Isaiah Berlin gave at Oxford University in 1958.[2]

Negative and Positive Freedom

Negative freedom is the mere absence of external limits or interference. It is therefore a freedom that has to do with society and which concerns the action of the agent. It corresponds to what is lawful and allowed. Negative freedom – to which Berlin gives a preference in the political sphere – can be easily understood in the plural (in the sense of the fundamental freedoms). As the absence of external constraints, negative freedom is now vastly more limited than it was before the pandemic.

Instead, positive freedom can be understood in terms of self-control and self-determination. It concerns the will of the agent and it corresponds to autonomy, in the sense of the power of the subject to give norms to themselves.

Positive freedom is complex. It is certainly to be understood as free will, that is, the ability to choose between different options. In this sense, it is an innate capacity of the human being. This capacity is very much discussed today in the debate on determinism raised by the neurosciences. For now, there is no philosophical or scientific evidence that allows us to deny this fundamental human ability. In the absence of this evidence, I firmly believe that we must assume this capacity exists. Especially in that the possibility of moral, legal and political responsibility is based on this same capacity.

Love and then do what you want

But positive freedom is not just free will, that is, the formal and innate possibility of choosing between different options, of doing what you want. Positive freedom is also an ability of autonomy which develops over time. It is not the mere possibility for the agent to do what they want, but it is the ability for the subject to truly want to do what they do, to fully own their actions. In this sense, freedom is being one with yourself, fulfilling your own humanity.

Let’s think about Saint Augustine’s iconic formulation of freedom – “Dilige et quod vis fac” (Love and then do what you want).[3] Only superficially freedom is the empty possibility of loving or not loving (or even hating).

Only if you act motivated by love, you are truly free. When you act out of fear, resentment, envy, vice, you may act within a space of non-constraint and free choice between different options, but you don’t feel like you are really free, you don’t feel like you are one with yourself. You don’t feel like you really want to do what you do. You are truly free only if you act motivated by love – love for yourself and love for your neighbour.

The first article of 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights reads, “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights”. This statement is to be understood as a regulative ideal and not as a matter of fact.[4] It is not true at all the human beings are born free and equal.

From a legal and political point of view, freedom must be understood as an innate right to be protected. Negative freedom must protect the innate free will of the human being. Human beings are born capable of free will, but freedom understood as being one with yourself is an achievement for them. Freedom is also a path to take.

Neoliberal Freedom

Today we are facing a neoliberal and very pervasive idea of freedom. A freedom which presents itself as the opposite of constraint, but which actually generates constraint itself. In 2014 Korean philosopher based in Germany Byung-Chul Han published his book “Psychopolitics: Neoliberalism and New Technologies of Power”.[5] In this book, Byung-Chul Han states that the neoliberal subject sees themselves as a project which is free from obligations and constraints imposed by others.

Nevertheless, being in competition with all their fellow humans, this subject forces themselves to efficiency and ends up submitting to internal obligations and self-imposed constraints. Believing themselves to be free, the individual is in reality a servant who exploits themselves. As Byung-Chul Han points out, “Neoliberalism represents a highly efficient, indeed an intelligent, system for exploiting freedom”. “People who fail in the neoliberal achievement-society see themselves as a responsible for their lot and feel shame instead of questioning society or the system”.

With respect to the neoliberal project, it is evident that a purely negative freedom – which aims to limit as much as possible the external constraints of freedom – does not guarantee in itself the quality and the strength of freedom. Freedom is not only the possibility to do what you want. As Byung-Chul Han shows it, this kind of freedom can put the subject against themselves.

More deeply, freedom should be understood as the ability for the subject to want to do what they do, to be one with their own will and action. Freedom is the capacity for the subject to fully own themselves, and therefore to completely realize themselves. Only this way we will all be equal because we will all be enabled to completely fulfil our own humanity. Only love – love for ourselves and love for our neighbours – allows us to reach our humanity and autonomy.

This means that we should teach our children how to be truly free, how to be happy, not how to be successful.

Democracy and Freedom

Even on a political level, freedom cannot be understood as mere indifference, as mere possibility to think or not to think. Democracy not only guarantees freedom of action and thought, but presupposes and needs citizens that are truly capable of free action and thought. The democratic form of sovereignty can only be achieved if citizens are fully in control of themselves, of their wishes and needs – if they are truly free.[6]

A people incapable of controlling their wishes and needs produces a democracy of slaves. Otherwise, the free and active democratic participation is reduced to a list of complaints. The citizen is transformed into a passive consumer.[7]

In these times, when negative freedom is much more limited than it used to be before the pandemic, we can take the opportunity to work towards the development of a more positive freedom. A kind of freedom which is the ability for the subject to truly become themselves, to be one with themselves. A kind of freedom which is not mere indifference, not a mere possibility either to love or not to love, either to think or not to think.

Negative freedom is a precondition of love, but love is a precondition of positive freedom. “Love and then do what you want”.

References

Biancu (2020), Il massimo necessario. L’etica alla prova dell’amore, Mimesis, Milano 2020

Biancu (2021a), “Libertà”, in Dizionarietto di politica. Le nuove parole, Morcelliana, Brescia 2021

Biancu (2021b), “Libertà, invenzione (e manutenzione) di un concetto”, Munera. Rivista europea di cultura, 2/2021

[1] See Grundlegung zur Metaphysik der Sitten (1785).

[2] See I. Berlin, Two Concepts of Liberty (1958), in Id., Four Essays on Liberty, Oxford University Press, London 1967, n. ed. in Liberty, H. Hardy (ed.), Oxford University Press, Oxford 2002; I. Carter, Positive and Negative Liberty, in The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Winter 2019 Ed., https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2019/entries/liberty-positive-negative/.

[3] See Epistolam Joannis ad Parthos, tractatus 7, sect. 8; PL 35, 2033.

[4] See J.-M. Ferry, Les Grammaires de l’intelligence, Cerf, Paris 2004, p. 201.

[5] See B.-C. Han, Psychopolitik. Neoliberalismus und die neuen Machttechniken, S. Fischer Verlag, Frankfurt 2014.

[6] See E.-W. Böckenförde, Die Entstehung des Staates als Vorgang der Säkularisation (1967), in Id., Recht, Staat, Freiheit. Studien zur Rechtsphilosophie, Staatstheorie und Verfassungsgeschichte, Suhrkamp, Frankfurt a.M. 2006, pp. 92-114.

[7] See B.-C. Han, Psychopolitik. Neoliberalismus und die neuen Machttechniken, S. Fischer Verlag, Frankfurt 2014.

(Presentation at the SIIAEC online Conference 2021 on “Ethical Action: COVID Affecting Human Rights and Democracy”, April 30 – May 1, 2021)

Intergenerational Justice and the Pandemic

A webinar on the pandemic and its challenges to intergenerational justice took place on 4 December.

Stefano Biancu, Caterina Fiorilli, Fabio Macioce, Ferdinando Menga, Laura Palazzani, Matteo Rizzolli, Vincenzo Schirripa, and all the doctoral students discussed this this challenging topic from an interdisciplinary point of view.

The program.

The poster.

The video.

“I respectfully disagree with Agamben” (Slavoj Žižek on Covid-19) – Aleksander Adamski

Some years ago, Slavoj Žižek was asked to discuss a shattering, traumatic event, an event widely believed to hold world-historic consequence. Žižek began with the following, general qualification:

“When one hears this phrase: ‘nothing will be the same,’ the first approach of a truly thinking person is simply to doubt this.”^[1]

The conclusion to be drawn from this remark is that although Pandemic!, the short book of reflections on the Covid crisis that Žižek published in May 2020, was obviously put together at speed, it is not an impulsive first approach. For Žižek, this time round, does think that change is inevitable, and will prove lasting. In wake of the pandemic, writes Žižek,

“We will have to change our entire stance to life, to our existence as living beings among other forms of life. In other words, if we understand “philosophy” as the name for our basic orientation in life, we will have to experience a true philosophical revolution.”^[2]

At first approach, and not just to the average ironically distanced philosopher, such a statement reads grossly overblown; in fact, there is nothing overwrought about Pandemic!, which is a serious, almost solemn pamphlet. The philosophical revolution it heralds amounts, of course, to the ethical position Žižek has been elaborating for years, namely a rigorous, conscientious, atheist Christianity. But there is nothing vindictive in Žižek’s delivery, no perceptible delectatio morosa in the fact that an epidemic has, in a number of ways, proven him right.

First and foremost, the pandemic validates Žižek’s appeals for communism. Perhaps to the dismay of his belligerent followers (though most of those have long forsaken him), Žižek takes communism to stand for an attempt to institutionalise (and enforce) basic human decency – and the broad definition needn’t be snubbed at.^[3] Pandemic! contains a number of simple — no other are needed — argument-examples for the sensibility of collective action (the virus spreads across jurisdictions) and the nonsense of market forces (that incite speculation on the rising price of protective equipment). The book notes how the reality of a situation which boils down to biological survival has bent (if not quite broken) some ideological fantasies and forced even the most reactionary governments to introduce at least tokens of universal income (USA) or nationalisation (UK):

“This is not a utopian Communist vision, it is a Communism imposed by the necessities of bare survival. (…) As the saying goes: in a crisis we are all Socialists. (…) Trillions will be spent violating all conventional market rules.”^[4]

In short, Žižek believes there is a chance that the present predicament will cut across ideological distortions and lay bear the old, essential alternative: socialisme ou barbarie.

II
Second, the pandemic proves we need a strong, resolute state, something Žižek has long been arguing for (while, to a degree, making the case against ‘civil society’ – or what in reality may well be a reactionary, bigoted, anti-vaccine, homophobic ‘moral majority,’ from which the force of the state should protect us). In this context, the question of invigilation arises, and provokes the first disagreement with Agamben:^[5] in the form of a simple cui bono? Žižek dismisses a reading of the pandemic in the lines of a bio-political state of exception and overtly approves of military discipline in the face of crisis. The crucial work lies in maintaining a spirit of trust between the people and a (powerful) system of state:

“(…) the measures necessitated by the epidemic should not be automatically reduced to the usual paradigm of surveillance and control propagated by thinkers like Foucault. What I fear today more than the measures applied by China and Italy is that they apply these measures in a way that will not work and contain the epidemic, and that the authorities will manipulate and conceal the true data.”^[6]

Against Agamben and Foucault, Žižek recalls Kant’s injunction apropos the laws of the state: “Obey, but think, maintain the freedom of thought!” In practice, though, Žižek has to concede that some of those doing the thinking must at times make the choice to disobey; for such a contingency “(…) new activists following in the shoes of Chelsea Manning, Julian Assange and Edward Snowden are needed.”^[7]

III

Pandemic! takes issue with the preposition that an epidemic alleged to affect mostly the elderly invites a relapse into a ‘vitalist’ logic of survival of the fittest. While Žižek fully acknowledges the risk Agamben points out – in short: that decency, dignity, and religious convictions will be readily sacrificed for the preservation of ‘bare life’ – his own stance is surprisingly hopeful. Citing acts of solidarity and the massive engagement of volunteers, especially in Italy, Žižek points out that the threat of death actually can be a uniting force, or at least that the matter is ambiguous, and barbarity is not the only possible outcome. For Žižek, there isn’t a shadow of doubt that the proper ethical injunction is contra-vitalistic and anti-utilitarian, it amounts to the call ‘all hands on board:’

“(…) our first principle should be not to economize but to assist unconditionally, irrespective of costs, those who need help, to enable their survival.”^[8]

The pandemic and the ensuing enforced isolation have had positive effects in terms of self-reflection. This is a point Žižek is at great pains to contextualist correctly, and Pandemic! not only acknowledges (at considerable length) the all too real suffering, but repeatedly stresses the entanglement of the migrant, race, and ecological crises with the epidemic. Žižek well understands the social stratifications behind the sort of work that can be done remotely and work we call ‘essential,’ he also touches on the danger of widespread, long-term challenges to mental health. Still, taking his cue from Catherine Malabou,^[9] Žižek ponders the ‘epoché’ effect of enforced solitude. At their simplest, the reflections of a meditative lock-down are readily accessible, practically irrefutable: what good is an economic system that collapses the moment we buy only what we really need? Of the vulgar indulgence proper to so-called cruise-ships, Žižek writes succinctly:

“We should not be afraid to note some potentially beneficial side effects of the epidemic. One of the lasting symbols of the epidemic is passengers trapped in quarantine on large cruise ships. Good riddance to the obscenity of such ships say I (…).”^[10]

This and other examples point to a simple conclusion: a pandemic epoché reveals that our past ‘normal’ was in fact a-normal throughout: “why do we want things to go back to normal, when in fact things have never been normal?” More still, the ‘dead time’ of withdrawal into lock-down may bring about — to the privileged few, Žižek acknowledges — the sort of ‘Gelassenheit’ that reveals, behind the hectic struggle of everyday life, the basic nonsense of our predicament.^[11]

The ‘absolute’ ethical stance of unconditional commitment, together with an epoché that undermines the edifice of symbolic (or ideological) meaning, are all proper to the sort of materialist Christian position that Slavoj Žižek has been putting forward for the past twenty years. Uncannily, the current discipline of so-called ‘social distancing’ chimes perfectly with Žižek’s ideal of an ethical community – one need only recall Žižek’s perhaps best-known formulation of this position, from an exchange with John Milbank published in 2011:

“This is where I stand — how I would love to be: an ethical monster without empathy, doing what is to be done in a weird coincidence of blind spontaneity and reflexive distance, helping others while avoiding their disgusting proximity. With more people like this, the world would be a pleasant place in which sentimentality would be replaced by a cold and cruel passion.”^[12] (emphasis mine)

Pandemic! recalls John 20:17, Christ’s answer to Mary Magdalene: do not touch me, noli me tangere. The point being that, for Žižek, solidarity appears at the point where we acknowledge that we are all alone – and only as such, are all together. Paradoxically, authentic community is brought about by isolation. This, an idea of Žižek’s voiced a decade ago, is yet another point of his thinking that the pandemic appears to vindicate.

An even more basic ‘Hegelian’ arching of opposites in an ‘infinite judgement’ occurs in how, as Žižek observes, the very lowest iteration of life, the blindly self-replicating virus, provokes the very highest, namely the ‘Holy Spirit’ of universal human communion in solidarity.

Renouncing the pose of philosophical distancing and facile scepticism, Slavoj Žižek chose, in his booklet of reflections on the pandemic, to voice hope. Giving the unfolding of events since May, the reader is left wondering whether this attitude can possibly hold. The anticipation his book provokes is certainly not lost on Žižek: granted the pandemic has proven him right on so many counts – will it not prove him wrong just now, on his grand bet on solidarity and change? The second part of Pandemic! is due for publishing in September.

[1] Slavoj Žižek and Glyn Daly, Conversations with Žižek, 1 edition (Cambridge, UK : Malden, MA: Polity, 2003) p 157.

^[2] Slavoj Žižek, Pandemic!: COVID-19 Shakes the World (Polity, 2020) p 78.

^[3] Žižek-scholars have been wary of looming ‘functional conservatism’ in Žižek’s writings since the early 2000s, and especially in his rapprochement with Christianity. The ‘problem’ of Žižek’s conservatism is, to the mind of the present author, a paragon of warped tunnel vision endemic to the modern campus.

^[4] Žižek (2020), pp 92, 93.

^[5] Agamben’s much-publicised remarks on the pandemic are accessible in Italian: https://www.quodlibet.it/giorgio-agamben-l-invenzione-di-un-epidemia and in English: http://www.journal-psychoanalysis.eu/coronavirus-and-philosophers/. Additional ‘clarifications’ added at a later date in Italian https://www.quodlibet.it/giorgio-agamben-chiarimenti and in Adam Kotsko’s translation https://itself.blog/2020/03/17/giorgio-agamben-clarifications/.

^[6] Žižek (2020), p 76.

^[7] Comp. Žižek (2020), pp 7, 66, 75.

^[8] Žižek (2020), p 87.

^[9] Malabou’s quarantine reflections (English): https://critinq.wordpress.com/2020/03/23/to-quarantine-from-quarantine-rousseau-robinson-crusoe-and-i/

^[10] Žižek (2020), p 45.

^[11] Žižek (2020), p 57.

^[12] Slavoj Žižek and others, The Monstrosity of Christ: Paradox or Dialectic?, ed. by Creston Davis, Reprint edition (Cambridge, Mass. London, England: The MIT Press, 2011) p 303.

The Pandemic – an Intellectual Challenge

At least at our latitudes, the Covid-19 pandemic represented an absolute and radical novelty. Not even the most elderly among us, who have witnessed immense tragedies such as war, have ever experienced anything like this. In a short period of time everything changed under the threat of a terrible and invisible enemy: lifestyles, educational systems, the labor market, public policies, and international relations. Nothing seems to be the same as before: a new normal, still characterized by many uncertainties, has imposed itself on a global level. The whole world has been touched by it. In this sense, the pandemic represents a testing ground for intellectuals, who have posited novel interpretations of a radically new phenomenon based on pre-existing paradigms which have not always proven adequate. The round table – resulting from the collaboration between the University of Notre Dame Rome Global Gateway and the international PhD program “Contemporary Humanism” at LUMSA University – aims at drawing an early assessment of those intellectual attempts. In the awareness that the pandemic represents, in all respects, a challenge also for thought.

Time: Fri Sep 11, 2020, 3:00 pm – 5:00 pm

Location: Webinar and In-Person Event – Notre Dame University Rome Global Gateway

PANELISTS:

Vittorio G. Hosle – University of Notre Dame

Ferdinando Menga – Università degli Studi della Campania Luigi Vanvitelli

Francesco Valerio Tommasi – La Sapienza Università di Roma

MODERATOR:

Stefano Biancu – LUMSA Università di Roma – Doctoral Program in Contemporary Humanism

REGISTRATION REQUIRED

What Ethics after Covid-19? (Stefano Biancu)

“What can I know?” “What must I do?” “What may I hope?” are the three questions that, since Kant’s time, are recognized as essential in every attempt to think about human existence and reality. Three questions to which the experience of the pandemic has taken away any simple answer.

What is in our control and what is not.

Many times, during the pandemic, the situation appeared out of control. The Kantian question on what we can know could be translated as follows: what is in our control and what is not? You control what you know, what you do not know controls you.

The virus has forced us to grieve over the illusion that we can have everything under our control. It has also unfolded right before our eyes the necessity to do all the possible good things that are in our power. The virus – in other words – has made evident to us our condition of both vulnerable and responsible beings.

We are vulnerable: something we do not control can, at any time, hurt and even destroy us. No life insurance can protect us from that. On the other hand, the vain attempt to immunize ourselves from any risk brings more disadvantages than the expected benefits. If you avoid every risk in order to protect life, you end up destroying the life you want to protect and preserve.

An accepted vulnerability is also what gives us access to the greatest experiences of our humanity. Investing your energy in a project that – despite everything – may fail; expressing your convictions freely, even if they may not be accepted and later you will have to pay for them; declaring your love to a person who may not return it; choosing to share your life with a person who may one day hurt you; trusting a friend who may not understand you or even betray you; being generous with someone who may take advantage of it. These are all experiences of an accepted vulnerability that exposes us to the risk of suffering and failure, but which also opens up the only gateway to our humanity, making us truly alive. At the end of our existence, we will know that we have lived inasmuch as we have accepted our vulnerability. Missed opportunities are as many sacrifices on the altar of the pretension of not exposing us to the risk of suffering and failure.

If the fact that we cannot control everything makes us vulnerable, the fact that we can control something makes us responsible to ourselves and to others. We are not almighty and yet, for our part, we are responsible.

The choice to quarantine entire countries around the world, putting at risks the world economy, was a choice of responsibility for the benefit of all, and in particular the most vulnerable. In the near future, we will have to be as much responsible towards those made vulnerable by the economic crisis.

From here, ethics will have to start again: from accepting that not everything is under our control and that the pretension of protecting ourselves against all risks kills life. But also from accepting the responsibility of doing all the good which is in our power to do: in favour of all and in particular the most vulnerable.

What we must do.

We have called them heroes – doctors, nurses and healthcare workers who, in the dark days of the pandemic, have put their lives at risk to save others’. Proportionally, similar risks were taken by many other workers. None of that was included in their employment contracts and yet none of these heroes have ever claimed – and presumably ever even thought – that they did something beyond the call of duty.

What we have experienced will urge us to radically change our understanding of duty. We need to recognise that duty is broader than what is required by a rule or by the rights of a third party. Up to now we have considered solidarity, fraternity, love as supererogatory attitudes: i.e. good, but not strictly due. The experience of the pandemic has shown us that, beside the “minimum necessary” of what is due (what someone can demand from me), there is also a “maximum” that is just as necessary. No one – individual or institution – can demand it from me and yet I know that it is somehow due. I must do it.

No one can demand love from me, but if I do not love – and do not act accordingly – I do not respond adequately to the appeal that comes to me from the other. Nor do I live. It is not only for believers that love is a commandment – it is to live as humans. It is from here, from a broader understanding of duty, that ethics should restart after the Covid-19.

What we may hope.

“It’s gonna be okay”, we have repeated ourselves like a mantra. But we have ended up repeating it with less and less conviction. A column of military trucks taking away the coffins of the dead ones has also taken away our illusions. By the end, not everything will have gone well, at least not for everyone.

Yet the experience of the virus, which has left a huge pile of human rubble, has shown us that – despite everything – we can hope, and therefore we must do so. At the condition that we do not understand “it’s gonna be okay” as “nothing bad will happen to us”. Hope is not the illusion of not being vulnerable, i.e. immune from evil and pain. Rather, it means hoping that all this immense pain will have a meaning – that bad things do not happen in vain. A meaning, perhaps not immediately evident, must be there. And it is up to us to act so that it will be there.

For this hope, which does not illusorily remove vulnerability but accepts it, we are all responsible. It will depend largely on us if all this will make sense – if from this rubble we will be able to rebuild a different and better human world. In the name of a love which is certainly a “maximum”, but a “necessary” one.

Learn more.

L’etica che verrà (Stefano Biancu)

Che cosa possiamo conoscere, che cosa dobbiamo fare, che cosa possiamo sperare sono le tre domande che, fin dai tempi di Kant, riconosciamo come essenziali per ogni tentativo umano di pensare l’esistenza e il reale: tre domande rispetto alle quali l’esperienza della pandemia ci ha sottratto ogni facile risposta.

Ciò che è in nostro controllo e ciò che non lo è

Molte volte, durante la pandemia, la situazione ci è apparsa fuori controllo. Proprio così potrebbe essere tradotta la domanda kantiana intorno a ciò che possiamo conoscere: che cosa è in nostro controllo e che cosa non lo è? Ciò che conosci lo domini, ciò che non conosci ti domina.

Il virus ci ha imposto di fare il lutto della illusione di poter avere tutto sotto controllo. Ma ci ha anche messo davanti agli occhi l’esigenza di fare tutto ciò che di buono è in nostro potere. Il virus – in altri termini – ci ha con forza ricondotti alla nostra condizione di esseri vulnerabili e responsabili.

Siamo vulnerabili: qualcosa che non controlliamo può, in ogni momento, ferirci e finanche annientarci. Non c’è assicurazione sulla vita che tenga. D’altra parte, il tentativo vano di immunizzarci da ogni rischio produce un danno maggiore del beneficio atteso. Se per salvaguardare la vita eviti ogni rischio, finisci per annientare quella vita che vorresti proteggere e preservare.

Una vulnerabilità accettata è anche ciò che ci permette di accedere alle esperienze più grandi della nostra umanità. Investire energie in un progetto che – nonostante tutto – potrebbe fallire, esprimere liberamente ciò di cui si è convinti anche se magari non sarà accettato e dovremo pagare per questo, dichiarare il proprio amore a una persona che forse non lo ricambierà, scegliere di condividere la vita con una persona che forse un giorno ci ferirà, confidarsi con un amico che potrebbe non comprenderci o che magari ci tradirà, essere generosi con qualcuno che forse se ne approfitterà: sono tutte esperienze di una vulnerabilità accettata che ci espone al rischio della ferita e del fallimento, ma che anche costituisce l’unica porta di accesso per la nostra umanità, rendendoci vivi. Alla fine della nostra esistenza, sapremo di aver vissuto nella misura in cui avremo accettato la nostra vulnerabilità: le occasioni perse saranno altrettanti sacrifici sull’altare della pretesa di metterci al riparo dal rischio della ferita e del fallimento.

Se il fatto di non poter controllare tutto ci rende vulnerabili, il fatto di poter controllare qualcosa ci rende responsabili, di fronte a noi stessi e agli altri. Non siamo onnipotenti e tuttavia, per la parte che ci compete, siamo responsabili.

La scelta di mettere in quarantena interi Paesi del mondo, con gravi rischi per l’economia mondiale, è stata una scelta di responsabilità a favore di tutti, e in particolare dei più vulnerabili. Nel prossimo futuro altrettanta responsabilità dovremo esercitarla verso coloro che la crisi economica avrà reso vulnerabili.

Da qui l’etica dovrà ripartire: dall’accettare che non tutto è in nostro controllo e che la pretesa di assicurarci da ogni rischio uccide la vita; ma anche dall’accettare la responsabilità di fare tutto ciò che di buono è in nostro potere fare: per il bene di tutti e in particolare dei più vulnerabili.

Ciò che dobbiamo fare

Li abbiamo chiamati eroi: medici, infermieri e personale sanitario che, nei giorni bui della pandemia, hanno messo a rischio le loro vite per salvare altre vite umane. Proporzionalmente, rischi simili li hanno assunti molti altri lavoratori. Niente di tutto questo era previsto nei loro contratti di lavoro eppure nessuno di questi eroi ha mai dichiarato – e presumibilmente neppure pensato – di aver fatto più del proprio dovere.

Ciò che abbiamo vissuto ci imporrà di cambiare radicalmente la nostra comprensione del dovere. Dovremo riconoscere che il dovere è più ampio di ciò che è esigibile rispetto a una norma o ai diritti di un terzo. Finora abbiamo considerato la solidarietà, la fraternità, l’amore come attitudini supererogatorie: buone, ma non strettamente dovute. L’esperienza della pandemia ci ha dimostrato che, accanto al minimo necessario di ciò che è esigibile (ciò che qualcuno può pretendere da me), esiste anche un massimo che è altrettanto necessario: nessuno – singolo o istituzione – potrà esigerlo da me, eppure so che è in qualche modo dovuto. Lo devo fare.

Nessuno può esigere da me amore, ma se non amo – e non agisco di conseguenza – non rispondo adeguatamente all’appello che dall’altro mi giunge. E neppure vivo. Non è soltanto per i credenti che l’amore è un comandamento: è per vivere da umani. E da qui, da una comprensione più ampia del dovere, dovrà ripartire l’etica che verrà.

Ciò che possiamo sperare

Andrà tutto bene, ci siamo ripetuti come un mantra. Ma abbiamo finito per crederci sempre di meno e abbiamo iniziato a ripetercelo con sempre minore convinzione. Una colonna di camion militari che portano via le bare dei caduti si è portata via anche le nostre troppo facili illusioni: alla fine non tutto sarà andato bene, perlomeno non per tutti.

Eppure l’esperienza del virus, che ha lasciato dietro di sé una immensa montagna di macerie umane, ci ha dimostrato che – nonostante tutto – possiamo sperare, e che dunque dobbiamo farlo. A patto di non intendere quel “tutto andrà bene” come un “non ci accadrà nulla di male”. Sperare non significa illudersi di non essere vulnerabili, di essere immuni dal male e dal dolore. Piuttosto significa sperare che tutto quell’immenso dolore avrà un senso: che ciò che di male accade, non accada invano. Un senso, forse non immediatamente evidente, ci deve essere. E a noi spetta di agire perché ci sia.

Di questa speranza, che non rimuove illusoriamente la vulnerabilità ma la accetta, siamo tutti responsabili. Da noi dipenderà in buona parte se tutto questo avrà avuto un senso: se da queste macerie sapremo ricostruire un mondo umano diverso e migliore. All’insegna di un amore che sa di essere un massimo, ma un massimo necessario.

Per approfondire clicca qui.

Vulnerability and Responsibility (Stefano Biancu)

I am a Professor, I work with words. I know how to fill in any kind of space or time gap with words. I know how to catch the attention of an audience through funny words or emotional phrases. I know how to skirt issues smartly when I do not have all the answers. I have learned all of that, these are the tricks of my job.

But now I have no more words. The words I used to have are not enough to express what I am witnessing, what we are going through. They are not enough and they even bother me. I would like to escape from all this, but I do not know where to go, for we are all in the same boat: the neighbour next door and the faraway neighbour who lives in the other hemisphere.

The only word still left in my mind is “why?”. Why all this? Why in these proportions? I have no answer to this question, and this time I cannot skirt the issue smartly.

Who is responsible for that? To my students I always explain that an action is not a “mere fact”. It presumes a free and responsible agent, someone I can hold responsible for their action, someone I could ask to justify their action, to make it fair to my eyes.

But today there is no one we can hold responsible for what is happening to us. All attempts to find a culprit – someone who can answer for what is happening – seem to be vain. The virus is not even a living creature. It kills and destroys even lacking the motivation – questionable but understandable – of having to survive: mors tua, vita mea.

We have tried to find some culprits: pollution, some kinds of husbandry practices with animals, the lies of the Chinese government, the inefficient organisation of our country, the cuts in the healthcare system budget, and even the runners. At some point, it looked like it was them – the runners – the cause of the catastrophe. If you run while people are dying, you must be the one to blame. I must confess that, as long as it was permitted, I was one of the runners, too. I used to run to feel alive and I did it without putting anybody’s life at risk. Because of this, I know runners are not the ones to blame. We are very mean to each other, desperately searching for a culprit. Let’s find that someone and the problem will be solved!

Here lies the tragedy: this time there is no one to blame. There is no one who can answer for all this. Some choices – wrong or delayed – may have made the situation worse, or may not have sufficiently limited the damage, but no one is really guilty of all this death and destruction. And in lack of a response, we do not even have words anymore. And yet we need words as much as we need the air that the virus takes away from those who are attacked by it.

It is not true that everything will be fine. This time the cure will inevitably have some very serious side effects. We are saving lives by putting others’ at risk. The choice between pandemic and famine is an unsolvable dilemma, just as it is having to decide who must live and who must die. At the moment the most important principle is to concentrate on the most urgent threat, but this argument will not be valid forever. Very soon hunger and solitude could start killing just like the virus. We do not know what to say, everything is so uncertain.

Everything will be fine, this is what we have been saying to ourselves repeatedly like a mantra. But now we know that not everything will be fine, at least not for everyone. The human cost of this sad event will be very high for many, and for some it will be even higher. Also in this case the motto we were holding on to – “everything will be fine” – collapsed, dragged away from a trail of military trucks crammed with coffins.

What will ever give words back to us in the midst of this void of answers? In this situation in which it seems that, whatever we do, we are mistaken or at least we do not solve anything? In this continuous killing of illusions for which every day it becomes more and more obvious that not everything will eventually be fine?

Now more than ever, it has become clear that hope is not a passion, not just a feeling. It is the result of a decision, a choice. Today we can choose hope. In what we are experiencing, we are more vulnerable than responsible. There are more things beyond our control than in our control. And yet there is one thing we are responsible for: our hope.

Hope is not the illusion that evil will not strike us, the illusion that we are not vulnerable. It is the confidence that this immense nonsense can make sense. Words will come back to us. But for this sense and for these words we will be responsible.

All of this will make sense if we do not waste this extreme time of isolation and quarantine. It will make sense if we use it to work on ourselves, now that the situation requires that we face our real selves without any social filter. The manager, the worker, the janitor, the top model are alone, confronting themselves the same way. This time will make sense if we use it to build up on our human relationships, now that the social relations have thinned out. It will make sense if each of us, according to our possibilities, contributes to dream and design a different world. Different politics, different economy, a different Europe, even a different ethics.

A kind of ethics that will have measure up with those impassably vulnerable and responsible beings which the virus has revealed we are. A kind of ethics for beings who do not have everything in their control but who must do the good they can, far beyond what the rights of a third party or the obligations of a law may require.

Everything that in the past we considered supererogatory – that is to say, good but not required – has now become a daily duty. That is the necessary response to the appeal of the most vulnerable ones, and the essential condition to live as humans. The commandment of love – the supererogatory par excellence –, that something that nobody can demand from you – has always been considered valid only for the believers. Today, it has imposed itself as the living core of ethics. Sine amore non possumus.

Perhaps the happy ending will not be what we imagined while saying to ourselves that everything would be fine. We are vulnerable. But another happy ending is still possible and it is within our reach. And for that, we are responsible.

Vulnerabilité et responsabilité (Stefano Biancu)

Je suis professeur : je travaille avec des paroles. Je sais comment remplir de paroles toute espèce d’espace ou de temps. Je sais comment captiver l’attention d’un auditoire avec une parole amusante ou une autre émouvante. Je sais comment m’en tirer avec élégance lorsqu’on n’a pas réponse à toutes les demandes. Cela, je l’ai appris, ce sont les ficelles du métier.

Mais voilà que maintenant je n’ai plus de paroles. Les paroles dont je disposais ne suffisent pas pour dire ce à quoi j’assiste, ce que nous sommes en train de vivre. Je voudrais bien échapper à tout cela, mais je ne sais où aller, car nous sommes tous dans le même bateau : le voisin de la porte à côté, l’éloigné qui habite dans l’autre hémisphère.

La seule parole qui me soit restée est « pourquoi ? ». Pourquoi tout cela ? Pourquoi dans ces proportions ? A cette demande, je n’ai pas de réponse, et, cette fois, je ne peux pas m’en tirer avec élégance.

A mes étudiants j’explique qu’une action n’est pas un « simple fait » : elle suppose un agent libre et responsable, quelqu’un à qui je puisse demander de rendre compte de son agir, de le justifier, de le rendre juste à mes yeux.

Mais aujourd’hui, il n’y a personne à qui nous puissions demander des comptes. Toutes les tentatives de trouver un responsable – quelqu’un qui puisse répondre de ce qui arrive – apparaissent vaines. Le virus n’est même pas un être vivant. Il tue et détruit sans même la motivation – discutable mais compréhensible – de devoir assurer sa propre subsistance. Mors tua, vita mea.

Des responsables, nous avons essayé d’en trouver : la pollution, certaines pratiques de zootechnie, les mensonges du gouvernement chinois, la désorganisation de notre pays, les coupures dans le budget de la santé, et jusqu’aux adeptes du jogging. Ne serait-ce pas eux les responsables de la catastrophe : si tu coures alors que les gens meurent, c’est toi qui dois être le coupable. Je le confesse : tant que cela a été possible, j’ai été l’un d’eux. Je courais pour vivre et je le faisais sans risquer la vie de personne, et je sais bien que ce n’est pas là qu’il faut chercher le responsable. Nous sommes devenus mauvais les uns à l’égard des autres dans notre recherche désespérée d’un responsable : trouvons-le et le problème sera réglé !

Voilà bien le drame : un responsable, cette fois-ci, il n’y en a pas. Il n’y a personne qui puisse répondre de tout cela. Certains choix – erronés ou en retard – ont pu aggraver la situation, ou ne pas limiter suffisamment les dégâts, mais un véritable responsable à qui demander des comptes de cette mort, de cette destruction, il n’y en a pas. Et dans cette absence de réponse, il n’y a plus de parole. Et pourtant nous avons besoin de paroles, autant que nous avons besoin de cet air que le virus soustrait à ceux qu’il frappe.

Les traitements cette fois-ci auront inévitablement de très lourds effets collatéraux. En sauvant des vies, nous en risquons d’autres. Le choix entre pandémie et famine est un dilemme indécidable comme l’est tout choix entre qui vit et qui meurt. Sur le moment, vaut le principe de se concentrer sur le péril le plus imminent, mais l’argument ne sera pas indéfiniment valide : rapidement la faim et la solitude pourraient bien tuer, autant que le virus. Nous ne savons pas quoi dire, tout est si incertain.

Tout ira bien, répétons-nous comme une mantra. Aujourd’hui pourtant, nous savons que tout n’ira pas bien, en tout cas pas pour tous. Le coût humain de cette mésaventure sera très élevé pour beaucoup, davantage encore pour certains. Ici encore, disparaît la parole « tout ira bien » à laquelle on s’agrippait, supprimée par une colonne de camions militaires remplie de cercueils.

Qui pourra nous redonner une parole au milieu de ce vide de réponses ? dans cette situation dans laquelle il semble que, quoi qu’on fasse, on se trompe ou du moins on ne résout rien ? Dans cette tragédie continue d’illusions au travers desquelles il devient chaque jour plus évident que tout, en fin de compte, ne sera pas allé bien ?

Aujourd’hui comme jamais, il devient clair que l’espérance n’est pas une passion, non plus qu’un sentiment. C’est le résultat d’une décision, d’un choix. Aujourd’hui, nous pouvons choisir l’espérance. En ce qui concerne ce que nous sommes en train de vivre, nous sommes plus vulnérables que responsables. Il y a davantage de choses qui échappent à notre contrôle que de choses sous contrôle. Et pourtant, il y a une chose dont nous sommes responsables : notre espérance.

L’espérance n’est pas l’illusion que le mal ne nous frappera pas, l’illusion de ne pas être vulnérables. C’est la confiance dans le fait que cet immense non-sens peut avoir un sens. Nous pourrons recommencer à avoir des paroles, mais de ce sens et de ces paroles, nous serons, nous, les responsables.

La condition sera de ne pas gâcher ce temps extrême de l’isolement, de la quarantaine. Il aura du sens si nous l’employons à travailler sur nous-mêmes, alors que la situation nous impose de faire face à la réalité que nous sommes nous-mêmes, sans les filtres sociaux. L’entrepreneur, l’ouvrier, le domestique, le modèle sont ici à la même enseigne : en face d’eux-mêmes. Ce temps aura du sens si nous l’employons à travailler sur nos relations humaines, maintenant que les sociales se sont espacées. Il aura du sens si chacun, à la mesure de ses possibilités, contribue à rêver un monde différent, à en faire le projet : une autre politique, une autre économie, une autre Europe et jusqu’à une autre éthique.

Une éthique qui devra être à la hauteur de ces êtres inséparablement vulnérables et responsables que le virus nous a fait découvrir en nous-mêmes. Une éthique pour des êtres qui n’ont pas tout sous contrôle mais qui doivent faire le bien qu’ils peuvent, bien au-delà de ce que peuvent exiger les droits d’un tiers ou les préceptes d’une loi.

Tout ce que naguère, nous considérions comme surérogatoire – c’est-à-dire bon mais non requis – est aujourd’hui devenu devoir quotidien, réponse nécessaire à la clameur des plus vulnérables, condition même pour vivre en hommes. Le commandement de l’amour – le surérogatoire par excellence – ce qu’on ne peut pas exiger de toi, depuis toujours considéré comme valide seulement pour des croyants, s’impose aujourd’hui comme le centre vivant de l’éthique. Sine amore non possumus.

L’heureuse fin ne sera peut-être pas celle que nous nous étions imaginée lorsque nous répétions que tout ira bien : nous sommes vulnérables. Mais une autre heureuse fin est encore possible, est dans notre possible, et de celle-là nous sommes responsables.

(Traduit de l’italien par Ghislain Lafont)

Vulnerabilità e responsabilità (Stefano Biancu)

Sono un professore, lavoro con le parole. So come si può riempire di parole ogni spazio e ogni tempo, come si cattura l’attenzione di un uditorio con una parola divertente o con una commovente, come cavarsela elegantemente quando non si hanno le risposte a tutte le domande. L’ho imparato: sono i segreti del mestiere.

Eppure ora non ho più parole. Perché le parole di cui disponevo non bastano a dire ciò a cui sto assistendo e che stiamo vivendo: non mi bastano e anzi mi disturbano. Vorrei scappare da tutto questo e non so dove andare, perché siamo tutti sulla stessa barca: il vicino della porta accanto e il lontano che abita nell’altro emisfero.

L’unica parola che mi è rimasta è “perché”. Perché tutto questo? Perché in queste proporzioni? A questa domanda non ho risposta, e questa volta non riesco a cavarmela elegantemente.

Ai miei studenti spiego che un’azione non è un semplice fatto, perché suppone un agente libero e responsabile: qualcuno a cui potrò chiedere conto del suo agire, potrò chiedere di giustificarlo, di renderlo giusto ai miei occhi.

Ma oggi non c’è nessuno a cui possiamo chiedere conto di quanto ci accade. Tutti i tentativi di trovare un responsabile – qualcuno che possa rispondere di ciò che ci sta accadendo – appaiono vani. Il virus non è neppure un essere vivente. Uccide e distrugge senza neanche la motivazione – discutibile ma comprensibile – di dover assicurare la propria sussistenza: mors tua vita mea.

Ci abbiamo provato a cercare dei responsabili: l’inquinamento, certe presunte pratiche zootecniche, le menzogne governative cinesi, la disorganizzazione del nostro Paese, i tagli alla sanità, fino ad arrivare ai runner. A un certo punto sembravano loro – i runner – le cause della catastrofe: se tu corri mentre la gente muore devi essere tu il colpevole. Lo confesso: fino a che è stato possibile, ero uno di loro. Correvo per vivere e lo facevo senza mettere a rischio la vita di nessuno: so dunque che non è lì che va cercato il responsabile. Ci siamo incattiviti gli uni contro gli altri nella disperata ricerca di un responsabile: troviamolo e il problema sarà risolto.

Il dramma è questo: il responsabile questa volta non c’è, non c’è chi possa rispondere di tutto questo. Alcune scelte – sbagliate o tardive – possono aver aggravato la situazione o non limitato sufficientemente i danni, ma un vero responsabile a cui chiedere conto di tutta questa morte e distruzione non c’è. E in assenza di risposte anche le parole vengono meno. Eppure abbiamo bisogno di parole almeno quanto abbiamo bisogno di quell’aria che il virus toglie a coloro che colpisce.

La cura questa volta avrà inevitabilmente effetti collaterali pesantissimi: stiamo salvando vite mettendone a rischio altre. La scelta tra pandemia e carestia è un dilemma indecidibile, come lo è ogni scelta tra chi vive e chi muore. Al momento vige il principio di concentrarsi sul pericolo maggiormente imminente, ma non è un argomento che sarà valido ancora a lungo: presto la fame e la solitudine potrebbero uccidere quanto il virus. Non sappiamo che cosa dire: tutto appare incerto.

Tutto andrà bene, ci siamo ripetuti come un mantra. Ma ora sappiamo che non tutto andrà bene, perlomeno non per tutti. Il costo umano di questa vicenda sarà altissimo per molti, ma per alcuni ancora di più. Anche qui è venuta meno la parola a cui ci eravamo aggrappati – “tutto andrà bene” – portata via da una colonna di camion militari carichi di bare.

Che cosa potrà restituirci la parola in questo vuoto di risposte? In questa condizione in cui ci sembra che qualsiasi cosa facciamo la sbagliamo o comunque non sarà risolutiva? In questa strage continua di illusioni per cui ogni giorno è sempre più evidente che non tutto, alla fine, sarà andato bene?

Oggi più che mai ci appare chiaro che la speranza non è una passione e neppure un sentimento. È l’esito di una decisione: di una scelta. Oggi possiamo scegliere la speranza. Rispetto a ciò che stiamo vivendo siamo più vulnerabili che responsabili: ci sono più cose fuori dal nostro controllo che in nostro controllo. E tuttavia di una cosa siamo responsabili: della nostra speranza.

La speranza non è l’illusione che il male non ci colpirà: l’illusione di non essere vulnerabili. È la fiducia nel fatto che questo immenso non senso può avere un senso: potremo tornare ad avere parole. Ma di questo senso e di queste parole saremo noi i responsabili.

Tutto questo avrà un senso se non manderemo sprecato il tempo, estremo, dell’isolamento e della quarantena.

Avrà senso se lo impiegheremo per lavorare su di noi, ora che le condizioni ci impongono di fare i conti con la realtà di noi stessi senza nessun filtro sociale: la manager, l’operaia, il bidello e il modello sono egualmente soli davanti a sé stessi.

Avrà senso se lo impiegheremo per lavorare sulle nostre relazioni umane, ora che quelle sociali si sono diradate.

Avrà senso se, ciascuno per quello che può, contribuiremo a sognare e progettare un mondo diverso: una politica diversa, un’economia diversa, un’Europa diversa, finanche un’etica diversa.

Un’etica che dovrà essere all’altezza di quegli esseri insuperabilmente vulnerabili e responsabili che il virus ci ha fatto riscoprire di essere. Un’etica per esseri che non hanno tutto in loro controllo, ma che quello che di buono possono fare, lo devono fare: ben oltre ciò che i diritti di un terzo o i dettami di una norma possono esigere.

Quello che fino a ieri consideravamo supererogatorio – buono ma non esigibile – è oggi diventato ai nostri occhi dovere quotidiano: risposta necessaria all’appello dei più vulnerabili e condizione stessa per vivere da umani. Il comandamento dell’amore – il supererogatorio per eccellenza: ciò che nessuno può esigere da te – da sempre considerato valido solo per i credenti, si è oggi imposto quale centro vivo dell’etica: sine amore non possumus.

Il lieto fine non sarà forse quello che ci eravamo immaginati mentre ci ripetevamo che tutto andrà bene: siamo vulnerabili. Ma un altro lieto fine è ancora possibile ed è nelle nostre possibilità: di questo siamo responsabili.

originally published here

La tarea más difícil (Consuelo Corradi)

El virus ha afectado a las regiones del norte de Italia y, en particular, a Lombardía, donde se registran más de la mitad de los casos. Aquí los brotes del virus fueron los hospitales (en particular el servicio de urgencias) y las residencias de ancianos. A mitad de febrero en estas instalaciones se mezclaron enfermos sin síntomas, otros con síntomas y personas sanas sin protección ni distanciamiento. Han sido muchas bombas pequeñas, que han explotado inconscientemente, que han infectado a la población sana. Un mes después se hizo evidente que los ancianos son particularmente vulnerables y deben ser aislados para protegerlos. Demasiado tarde se han aislado las pequeñas ciudades del Norte, donde la red de relaciones sociales es muy estrecha. Demasiado tarde se ha admitido que las máscaras no son solo para los enfermos, sino también para los sanos. Hasta hace un mes, no se fabricaban máscaras de protección en mi país; se prefería importarlas del extranjero porque eran demasiado baratas para ser fabricadas por nuestros trabajadores.

Pero a pesar de estos retrasos, que han causado muchas víctimas, Italia tiene un modelo de acción positivo: es el primer país europeo y el primer país en el mundo con verdadera democracia que ha tomado la decisión del cierre y confinamiento, incluso frente a un grupo de expertos que estaban en contra. Durante algunas semanas, ningún país europeo siguió este ejemplo, pensando que el virus era un problema local. Como sabemos hoy, la pandemia es un fenómeno mundial que se ha extendido por todo el planeta a la velocidad del rayo, pero las políticas para combatirla son nacionales y, por lo tanto, insuficientes: llegan tarde y de manera descoordinada.

¿Cuánto tiempo durará esta coyuntura y cómo será nuestra vida ‘durante’ y ‘después’ del virus? Los expertos (por cierto, ¿hay expertos para una enfermedad desconocida hasta hace dos meses?) admiten que llevará al menos un año poner una vacuna en distribución. Hasta entonces todos permaneceremos en estado de alerta. No nos daremos la mano con los amigos. Tendremos miedo de acercarnos a los demás. Los contactos físicos disminuirán y los virtuales aumentarán. La máscara y los guantes serán prendas de vestir diarias. Haremos cola para entrar en los lugares necesarios de la vida cotidiana, como el mercado, la farmacia, el banco, la peluquería. En un mundo caracterizado por la sobreabundancia de todo, tendremos que esperar y protegernos, para tener lo indispensable. Las escuelas y universidades italianas no volverán a funcionar hasta septiembre. Las lecciones y los exámenes de fin de año se realizarán ‘en línea’. Después de las vacaciones de Semana Santa, algunas empresas comenzarán a reabrir sus actividades, gradualmente y a partir de las regiones menos afectadas.

¿Y ‘después’ del virus? Este período de dificultades debe hacernos planear un nuevo futuro. Todos necesitamos una Europa menos árida, capaz de escribir una nueva página en su historia y no solo preocupada de sanear las cuentas. Necesitamos coordinación sanitaria entre los Estados de la Unión, programas de solidaridad (no de caridad) hacia los países afectados y programas de investigación científica bien financiados y de amplio alcance. En el ‘después’, el verdadero problema de esta guerra contra un enemigo invisible es que no habrá escombros, ni casas, ni escuelas, ni edificios que reconstruir en el sentido literal. Pero tendremos la tarea, tal vez más difícil, de elegir los objetivos a partir de los cuales reconstruir y recomponer el tejido de confianza y de interrelaciones del que están hechas nuestras sociedades, que deben ser pensadas y vividas como partes de un mundo global que ofrece inmensas oportunidades y algunos riesgos mortales.

originally published here