In recent days, particularly in Italy and across Europe, the most noble of words has been resounding: freedom. The occasion marks the 35th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. In nearly all commemorations, the focus quickly shifted from the past to the present and future, as the essential purpose of memory serves to inform us of what lies ahead.
The world that ended on that day in 1989 has been analyzed from every angle, yet the world that was born is less often scrutinized—a world seemingly without opposition, without adversaries, without explicit, overarching conflicts, aside from regional ones. This was the world of the so-called “solitary victory” of the West. That world has now ended twice over. Not only is a new world order emerging, but even the West itself has developed destructive internal “viruses” akin to autoimmune diseases. Perhaps it is an inevitable fate that ancient civilizations, like aging organisms, develop internal weaknesses, making them more susceptible to external challenges.
Putin’s tanks rolling into Ukraine in February 2022 jolted Europe from a prolonged hypnotic slumber. The militants of Hamas, with the massacre on October 7, have forced Israel into a frenetic reaction, placing it under the moral scrutiny of the world. We saw the repercussions in Amsterdam. And Israel, after all, is the only democracy in the Middle East. But then there are also bitter internal conflicts of opinion. A narrow, “enlightened” minority has crafted the ultimate existential vocabulary for the democratic majority. Meanwhile, U.S. Democrats warn of the Trumpian threat but, disconnected from their fellow citizens’ needs, have introduced cancel culture, a form of erasing political opponents—a true negation of democracy.
Be wary, for in these paradoxes, that precious asset—freedom, our defining virtue—can risk becoming hollow. And it all begins with the erosion and confusion of words.
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