contemporary culture

On how contemporary society confuses freedom with the erosion of social grace

One cannot help but reflect on the disappearance of civility—and the growing confusion between elegance, manners and the myth of democratisation.

Good manners have always included dressing appropriately for place and occasion. And yet, when this topic is brought up, the response is often a critique in the name of democratisation. Today, this notion is increasingly dismissed as antiquated—even oppressive. The lack of manners, a progressive loosening of behavioural codes—from workplaces to weddings—is justified by a mistaken sense of freedom and equality. As though getting rid of rules were an act of liberation, rather than a weakening of our shared social fabric.

Civility, like elegance, has nothing to do with wealth.

Manners and elegance vs wealth

This speaks to our era’s fundamental confusion: mistaking freedom for negligence, and democracy for the flattening of all nuance. Manners—which also encompass knowing how to dress appropriately for context—are a form of respect, both towards oneself and others. They require no luxury, only intention. In fact, they constitute a silent language that communicates attentiveness, awareness, and social sensitivity. They have nothing to do with material wealth but with an inner richness: the ability to inhabit the world with grace.

Yet today, any code or standard is met with suspicion — as if it were elitist or exclusionary. The well-intentioned push for inclusivity has paradoxically normalised indifference. Sloppiness wears the mask of authenticity; carelessness postures as rebellion, as though these were symbols of liberation or progress. We’ve forgotten that true democratisation isn’t “no rules,” but rather ensuring that everyone has access to the tools to make conscious choices.

Good manners or elegance are not the privilege of a few, nor are they tied to wealth. They are the heritage of those who choose to cultivate them—and this applies equally to how we dress.

The world is full of billionaires having no trace of elegance. That is precisely the point: they are values, not commodities. Yet in an era where everything is often measured in economic terms, we lose sight of all that which cannot be bought — and which, paradoxically, is worth far more than anything that can be.

Social conventions—including dress codes—are not cages, but cultural coordinates that enable a more harmonious coexistence. Abandoning them in the name of authenticity or unfiltered spontaneity often means relinquishing that subtle fabric of mutual respect which holds social life together.

Final thoughts

True democracy does not abolish civility—it makes it accessible to all. Ultimately, good manners and elegance are nothing more than expressions of attentiveness, empathy, and care. Values that have nothing to do with social class, and everything to do with human quality.

When talking about the disappearance of civility, Pier Paolo Pasolini once said:

“Vulgarity is the peak expression of conformism.”

His words remind us that when the dismantling of standards is mistaken for progress, we risk replacing genuine freedom with a shallow performance of it. What we lose is not just formality, but a culture rooted in meaning—where care, elegance, and attention weren’t elitist gestures, but signs of respect. 

In their place, we inherit a performative casualness. Indifference now parades as authenticity.

How national remembrance is once again caught between memory, politics, and collective grief

Each year, on 25 April, Italy observes Festa della Liberazione — Liberation Day — with a national public holiday. The date commemorates the end of Nazi occupation and Fascist rule during the Second World War, as well as the victory of the partisan Resistance movement. These fighters — women and men from diverse backgrounds — united in armed opposition to tyranny, engaging in both a war of liberation and a civil war.

Parades and commemorations take place across the country, largely organised by ANPI (the National Association of Italian Partisans), which continues to safeguard the legacy of the Resistance. Declared a national holiday in 1946, the day remains a pivotal — yet contentious — moment in Italy’s history. Each year, it draws criticism from right-wing political factions who either downplay or reject the celebration entirely.

25 April and the mourning for Pope Francis

This year, however, the day has stirred deeper controversy. Liberation Day falls within a five-day of national mourning for Pope Francis, declared following his passing. The government has called for all public events to be conducted with appropriate “sobriety” in light of the Pope’s death. That request has extended to the 25 April commemorations. That, led to accusations — particularly from the political left. The government is using the mourning period to suppress a key symbol of Italy’s anti-fascist identity. Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni’s right-wing coalition denies any such intention.

Critics argue that the timing of the national mourning reflects not only sensitivity to public grief but also a political calculation. In Italy, the legacy of anti-fascism is still a matter of debate. Therefore, some see in this gesture an attempt to impose a “state morality.” A way to elevate certain values while undermining others. Since Liberation Day cannot be officially repealed, opponents suggest it is instead being quietly sidelined.

Indeed, no other Pope was granted as many days of national mourning. For example, only three days were observed for John Paul II.

Final thoughts

More than just a symbolic event, Festa della Liberazione is a reminder that democracy requires constant vigilance. Liberation is not a static achievement. It is an ongoing process rooted in collective memory, historical accuracy, solidarity, and the courage to resist injustice in all its forms. In a time when basic freedoms are increasingly under pressure — as seen in recent security laws — the spirit of the Resistance remains vital.

In 2025, the 25 April holiday falls on a Friday, offering many Italians an extended “super ponte” weekend, following closely on the heels of Easter Monday. But beyond the long weekend lies a deeper truth. This anniversary is not merely a relic of the past but a call to awareness. A reminder that the values won in 1945 must never be taken for granted.

A reflection on renewal, presence, and the quiet power of beginning again

We take this Easter pause as a moment for reflection—whatever this celebration may mean to you.

Sadly, Pope Francis passed away on Easter Monday, ending an often turbulent reign in which he sought to overhaul an ancient and divided institution.
Although we were raised Catholic, we are not religious. Yet we believe in having a moral compass—deep values, empathy, and respect. Respect for all—the planet and the people.

So, this moment invites us to pause and consider what it means to begin again—not just once, but continually.
Rebirth isn’t a grand event reserved for the few, but a quiet, daily choice.

Reborn, Again
Each morning, the light returns,
not as a memory,
but as a promise—
soft, unwavering.

We are not who we were.
We are the breath after the stillness,
the bloom after frost,
the silence before a name is spoken again.

To live is not merely to last—
it is to begin
and begin
and begin.

And so, we take this Easter pause as a moment to reflect on the idea of daily rebirth. Because life is about change, and it asks us to begin again—every single day.
Each day offers a chance to start anew, to shift direction, to reclaim meaning.

Rebirth is always possible, in spite of everything.
We can be reborn, every day.

Reborn again—to put an end to the atrocities that no world claiming progress should ever endure.

Take this moment to pause. To breathe. To begin again—gently.
How will you begin again today?