Explorations

How Europe surrendered its cultural identity to American homogenisation

Reclaiming European culture is the natural response to the cultural shift America took under Trump—marked by vulgarity, populism, and nationalism. It’s the kind of reaction we expect from Europe. Over time, we’ve lost our cultural identity—and even our sense of style—in the name of a so-called “freedom” that the U.S. packaged and sold to the world.

In fact, over the past few decades, Europe has undergone a profound cultural shift—one not solely driven by immigration or progressive ideologies, as many claim. A subtler yet deeper transformation lies in our surrender to American cultural homogenisation: extreme consumerism, disposability, the cult of convenience, and the rise of performative informality. It’s not just about fashion. It’s about values. Capitalism, disguised as freedom, seduced us—all in the name of profit.

The loss of form, the loss of meaning

Historically, European culture cherished the idea of form—an appreciation of ritual, aesthetics, and context. Manners were never submission—they were shared codes of respect. Dressing appropriately wasn’t about elitism but about showing care. As much as it may seem trivial, style has always reflected specific values. The values of our culture. But now, everything must be fast, loud, and easy. Formality is mocked as outdated; effort is dismissed as snobbery.
What we’re witnessing is the slow erasure of nuance, the death of “how” in favour of “whatever works.”

The American dream, exported

We adopted the language of freedom but hollowed out meaning. In the name of so-called democratisation, we’ve embraced casualness not as an option—but as the rule. And with it, came a flattening of taste, language, even thought. European distinctiveness—rich with contradictions, elegance, and complexity—is being reduced to a homogenised mass. We’ve confused informality with progress. Pasolini, ever prophetic, warned against consumerism: “and above all, its wild, almost cosmic drive to produce and consume: the false god of ‘Development’ — the new power that deceives the people.”

Values and elegance as resistance: defending diversity

To reclaim European culture is not to exclude or regress—it is to resist erasure. True diversity, after all, flourishes only when roots are intact. Values, elegance, manners, codes—these are not colonial relics, but tools of human connection, developed over centuries. Their abandonment doesn’t make us freer—it makes us formless.

Final thoughts

If Europe is to resist cultural erasure, it must reject this hollow mimicry of Americanisation. Therefore, in the face of America’s cultural drift, reclaiming European culture isn’t nostalgia—it’s survival.

The next time we applaud someone showing up in sweatpants or pyjamas in places that require appropriate clothing, let’s ask: are we truly celebrating freedom? Or simply bowing to a new kind of conformity, sold to us as liberation?
Europe’s future may well depend on rediscovering the value of form—not as stiffness, but as intention. A culture that knows its depth doesn’t need to imitate anyone. It simply needs to remember itself.

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.