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Di modelli e miti / On role models and myths

Photo Credit: Dante Korda

È un po’ che ho cominciato un percorso di lettura che mi sta riportando alle origini. Le storie della Resistenza, il confino di Ventotene, la biografia di Che Guevara, l’amicizia in carcere di Gramsci e Pertini.

È un percorso nato per caso, ma sicuramente non casuale; risponde a un gran bisogno di radici, alla necessità di un’ancora e di un orizzonte in un momento di profondo disorientamento politico.

Quelli che nello scenario internazionale sono oggi considerati leader sono in realtà ciarlatani, variazioni sul tema del bullo di periferia, volgari e millantatori, con un ego fuori misura che li porta nella sfera del mito – nel senso di quel territorio sfumato che mescola la realtà e la finzione. Un mito che celebra il culto della violenza, del successo del più forte, dell’egoismo e del vantaggio personale. Seguiti da molti, troppi, che hanno smesso di usare il cervello e di interrogare le proprie coscienze.

Quindi forse è tempo di liberarsi dei miti e di ritornare ai modelli. Un processo silenzioso, ma militante; consapevole e determinato. Un percorso in cui si ritrovano esempi che fanno da guida e aiutano a trovare la strada.

Nel libro sull’amicizia fra Gramsci e Pertini gioca un ruolo importante il dilemma rispetto alla fuga dal carcere. Tema metaforicamente impellente in questo presente disorientante dove il ritirarsi nel sé e fuggire dalla dimensione politica sembra l’unica soluzione saggia e sensata. Eppure per Gramsci e Pertini il dilemma non esiste, esiste solo la fedeltà ai valori e gli ideali che determinano la loro umanità. Solo coerenza e integrità rispetto alle proprie scelte.

Questo mio ritorno alle origini non è dunque anacronistico; al contrario, si sta rivelando una lente importante per guardare al presente. Per ritrovare motivazione e determinazione rispetto a ciò che ho scelto come sostanza del mio stare al mondo. Per ricordarmi che la libertà va coltivata e costruita ogni giorno. Per ricordarmi che non bisogna aver paura di sporcarsi le mani. Per ricordarmi che l’altruismo (altra parola desueta) e la solidarietà non sono opzioni, ma cardini imprescindibili da nutrire e curare.

Che i modelli ritornino dunque ad essere esempio, ispirazione e guida in un tempo di mare in tempesta – bussola e azimut per non perdere l’orientamento.

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It has been a while since I embarked on a reading journey that is taking me back to my roots. Stories of the Resistance, the Ventotene confino, Che Guevara’s biography, the friendship between Gramsci and Pertini in prison.

This journey began by chance, but it is certainly not random; it responds to a need for grounding, for an anchor, for a horizon at a time of profound political disorientation.

Those who are now regarded as leaders on the international stage are in reality charlatans, variations on the theme of the suburban bully, vulgar and boastful, with an outsized ego that propels them into the realm of myth – in the sense of that blurred territory where reality and fiction merge. A myth that glorifies the cult of violence, the success of the strongest, selfishness and personal gain. These myths are followed by many – too many – who have stopped using their brains and questioning their consciences.

So perhaps it is time to abandon these myths and return to role models. A quiet yet militant process; conscious and determined. A journey where we can rediscover role models to guide us and help us find our way.

In the book on the friendship between Gramsci and Pertini, the dilemma of escaping from prison plays an important role. This is a metaphorically pressing theme in our disorienting present, where retreating into oneself and escaping from the space of the political seems the only wise and sensible solution. Yet for Gramsci and Pertini, there is no such dilemma; there is only loyalty to the values and ideals that define their humanity. In reality, there is no dilemma; there is only coherence and integrity in relation to their choices.

This return to my roots is therefore not anachronistic; on the contrary, it is proving to be an important lens to understand the present. To regain motivation and determination with regard to the way I have chosen of being in the world. To remind myself that freedom must be looked after and built every day. To remind myself that I should not be afraid of getting my hands dirty. To remind myself that altruism (another outdated word) and solidarity are not optional, but essential cornerstones that must be constantly nurtured and cared for.

May role models therefore once again serve as examples, sources of inspiration and guides in times of turbulent seas – a compass and a azimuth to ensure we do not lose our way.

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Learning to read

I have been studying Dari for a year now and I finally reached a functional level that allows me to ask to change the dynamo of the generator, check with the plumber that the sewage finally works properly and converse with taxi drivers – mostly about God and religion, conversations that – beyond the language barrier, often leave me with questions that I am not capable to answer.

I have learnt the alphabet since the very beginning, but it has only need a week since I started reading out loud.

It made me feel like a little girl again and Sister Fidalma came to mind – she was the incredibly old nun who gave me reading tuitions when I was in school. When I was little, it took me a very long time before I learnt to read properly. My first oculist got my prescriptions wrong and, despite huge baby-pink specs, I could hardly see anything and the letters on the page would hopelessly blur.

It is funny to think now that my first active relationship with books was one of effort and frustration and it makes me happy to look back and see how much things have changed.

Learning to read as an adult is turning into a funding moment in my personal development. It is a humbling experience where I have to look at myself and my limits without filters or excuses: there is no bluff and there is no hiding. Reading out loud a syllable after the other is embarrassing – I have the impression to blush every time I finish reading a word; making banal mistakes is frustrating, but reaching the end of a sentence – exhausted after barely five words – is a priceless and unforgettable pleasure.

Sayed, my fantastic teacher, has found the right balance with me: he pulls my leg and encourages me at the same time, he helps me laugh at my efforts and not to take myself too seriously.

There is so much that we take as a given, we hardly question our abilities and all those things we believe we are entitled to.

Starting from scratch again is reminding me of the importance of humility, of the satisfaction of small steps, and of the genuine joy of simple achievements.