đŹđ§This meeting should (and could) have been an email (short version)
How to save money and accidentally make the green transition happen in the right way â and with no extra costs
We have been talking about the âgreen transitionâ for years now.
And if you look at the amount of money being mobilised, it would be difficult to argue that governments have simply ignored it.
The European Unionâs 2021â2027 long-term budget and NextGenerationEU together amount to around âŹ2 trillion. The EU originally committed to directing at least 30% of this envelope towards climate objectives; current Commission projections put the climate contribution at around âŹ662 billion, or 34% of the total. (European Commission)
The Recovery and Resilience Facility alone has a climate target of 37%, and by 2025 Member States had committed more than âŹ275 billion â over 42% of the total estimated RRF costs â to climate objectives. (European Commission)
So yes: there is European money.
But there is an important distinction.
There is not one enormous European pot of money that simply pays for the green transition everywhere.
EU funding is combined with national public budgets, national co-financing, loans, private investment and other financial instruments. The European Commission itself describes the EU budget as one part of a much larger investment effort. And the Recovery and Resilience Facility is temporary: it is due to end in 2026. (European Commission)
Meanwhile, the scale of what Europe still needs is enormous.
Recent ECB analysis estimates that Europe will need to mobilise an additional 2.7â3.7% of EU GDP every year until 2030 to achieve the green transition. Another ECB analysis estimates an average public green-funding gap of around âŹ20 billion per year between 2025 and 2030, even after taking available EU funds into account. (European Central Bank)
And this is where things become interesting.
Because we have spent years telling a very simple story about the green transition:
Governments need to invest more. Far bad countries are making this impossible to happen.
But perhaps this is only part of the story.
For instance Chinaâs clean-energy investment exceeded $625 billion in 2024, almost doubling since 2015. It also achieved its 2030 target for wind and solar capacity six years ahead of schedule. (IEA)
The IEA estimates that China continues to account for nearly 60% of global renewable-capacity growth, while solar PV has become the single largest area of global energy investment. Global solar investment alone was expected to reach around $450 billion in 2025. (IEA)
So the comfortable idea that the green transition is simply a matter of some countries being âseriousâ and others being âbadâ is becoming increasingly difficult to defend.
The reality is much more complicated.
Countries are investing enormous amounts.
ButâŠ
ButâŠ.Some are moving faster than others.
And above, allâŠ.Some have BETTER policies than others.
Some have developed impressive financial mechanisms but still perform poorly on other indicators.
And even Europe, despite its considerable investment, has many a country that fail on a daily basis in simple actions that would cost zero extra funds and would reduce enourmously amounts of public money – but also of private citizens.
This means that something else needs to change â and it needs to change now.
Because perhaps the green transition should not only be a question of:
How much more money can governments put into it?
Perhaps we should also ask:
How much waste can governments eliminate without spending more?
In my subscribers post you will find 10 crucial points of our societies that could be improved with 0 extra costs.
It is a reasoning that comes from evidence I have gathered while working and living in different countries and continents.
It is a story of digitalization, of naming things for what they are â crisis and prevention, for instance â and of bringing responsibility to the right side: the side of institutions and those that should educate and inform citizens.
Because sometimes the problem is not that we lack a green solutionâŠor funds.
Sometimes the problem is that we are still organising our societies in ways that were wrong Ă century ago and continue to worsen whilst making the solution unnecessarily difficult, expensive and wasteful.
And perhaps this is where a different kind of green transition should begin.
There is much more coming in these subscription versions of my posts, and it is a much more sustainable way to read and âget inspiredâ by my writings (instead of taking here and there and fuel your debate not even quoting me!)
đșđž When We Ban the Phone Instead of Teaching the Person
There is something increasingly strange happening in the way many societies talk about young people and technology.
A problem appears â distraction, cyberbullying, anxiety, eating disorders, exposure to violence â and the political response is increasingly to remove the object.
Take the phone away.
Ban it at school.
Put it in a pouch. Put it in a locker.
And perhaps, for a few hours, the problem becomes invisible too.
But making something invisible is not the same thing as solving it.
I am not arguing that smartphones should be permanently available in classrooms. Schools need boundaries. Teachers need to be able to teach without thirty students simultaneously checking notifications.
But I am deeply uncomfortable with the idea that restricting young peopleâs access to technology is somehow equivalent to educating them about technology.
It isnât.
CENSORSHIP IS NOT EDUCATION.
The phone is not the problem. Societies way to educate youngsters is.
There is evidence that restrictions can reduce distraction in schools. The OECD has found that phone bans can help with classroom concentration, although their effectiveness depends heavily on how they are implemented. Importantly, restrictions during school hours do not necessarily create healthier digital habits outside school.
Other research is much less conclusive. A large Australian study involving more than 1,200 secondary students found no significant short-term difference between schools with and without phone bans in problematic phone use, academic engagement or school belonging.
France has also introduced a more restrictive approach. Its Portable en pause system was extended to public collĂšges from the 2025â26 school year following an experiment involving more than 32,000 pupils. The French Ministry of Education reports improvements in concentration, school climate and wellbeing.
Those findings should not simply be dismissed.
But neither should they be transformed into the much larger claim that prohibition has solved the underlying problem.
A student who learns that they cannot use a phone between 8:00 and 16:00 has learned a rule.
They have not necessarily learned how algorithms manipulate attention, how to recognise misinformation, how to respond to cyberbullying, how to protect someoneâs privacy, how to recognise manipulation, how to use AI critically or how to ask for help.
Those are skills.
And skills have to be taught.
We are giving young people a responsibility that belongs to adults
This is where the discussion becomes more uncomfortable, I think.
Many societies are increasingly placing a weight â almost a border â on the shoulders of a generation that needs quite the opposite: help, support and guide.
Young people are expected to manage their education, their digital behaviour, their relationship with social media, their exposure to misinformation and sometimes even the wellbeing of their peers.
Of course young people have responsibilities.
But education is the responsibility of ADULTS.
That means institutions. It means schools, governments, parents and teachers. It also means universities and professors.
Being an adult does not erase the difference between being an adult student and being an adult educator. A twenty-year-old student and a forty-year-old professor may both be adults, but they do not occupy the same educational position or possess the same institutional power.
Education exists partly to recognise those differences and use them responsibly.
We cannot tell young people:
You are responsible for understanding this world.
while simultaneously telling them:
You are not mature enough to be trusted with the tools through which this world operates.
That is a contradiction which brings inevitably to have the complete chaos we can observe worldwide concerning young generations now clearly failed by contemporary societies and many institutions.
We cannot educate people for a world that no longer exists
There is a strange – almost irritating- nostalgia appearing in discussions about technology.
A fantasy that perhaps we could simply return to the âgood old daysâ: fewer screens, more books, more face-to-face conversations, children playing outside.
There are certainly things from older forms of social life worth preserving.
But let us not romanticise the past.
Bullying existed.
Violence existed.
Social exclusion existed.
Eating disorders existed.
Suicide existed.
Loneliness existed.
The internet did not invent cruelty.
The smartphone did not invent insecurity.
Technology has changed mostly the visibility of some of these experiences.
That distinction matters.
But so does another change:
AWARENESS.
We now have access to extraordinary amounts of information about psychology, sociology, neurodiversity, communication, cultural difference, trauma and human behaviour.
The internet has made knowledge accessible on an unprecedented scale.
AI is now making another layer of information accessible through conversation.
That does not mean everything online is true.
It means we have an unprecedented opportunity to teach people how to determine what is true.
We should not waste it.
The dangers are real. The explanation is complex and much needed.
We should not minimise the risks of digital environments.
WHO/Europeâs research across 44 countries and regions found that approximately one in six adolescents had experienced cyberbullying, while problematic social-media use increased from 7% in 2018 to 11% in 2022.
The U.S. Surgeon General has also warned about the potential mental-health risks associated with social media, particularly at high levels of use.
But this does not make the internet a sufficient explanation for adolescent mental-health problems.
WHO describes adolescent mental health as the result of multiple interacting factors, including family relationships, school environments, social pressures, violence, adversity and access to appropriate support.
That matters.
Because when something tragic happens, we have a tendency to look for one culprit.
The phone. The platform. The teenager.
Sometimes there is an identifiable failure. But many situations are considerably more complicated.
A parent can love their child and still fail to recognise a crisis.
A teacher can care deeply about a student while being responsible for thirty others.
A friend can know that something is wrong without understanding how serious it is.
These are not necessarily stories about bad people.
They are often stories about systems that were never designed to handle the complexity we are asking them to handle.
What we actually need is support
This is why the conversation about phones should ultimately lead somewhere else.
We need better psychological education. We need teachers trained to recognise mental-health and social difficulties. We need parents to have somewhere to turn when they do not understand what is happening to their child.
And we need young people to have access to specialised professionals without having to wonder if they can afford it or reach a point of crisis first.
Because sometimes the most important intervention is surprisingly ordinary:
LISTEN.
Not interrogate. Not minimise. Not immediately correct.
Listen.
And then, when listening is not enough:
GUIDE.
And when guidance is not enough:
PROVIDE A SAFE PLACE TO HEAL.
This is not about blaming families.
Parents can be frightened too. Health, mental health and psychological difficulties are not subjects that every family knows how to deal with.
Sometimes the problem begins within a family. Sometimes it begins at school. Sometimes somewhere else entirely.
That is precisely why the responsibility cannot be placed entirely on one individual. Or a technological device.
We need systems capable of supporting ALL individuals.
Sometimes the phone is the safety device
There is another reason I would never support a complete ban on mobile phones inside schools.
We have to be willing to think about situations that are deeply unpleasant to imagine.
A fire. A violent attack. A medical emergency. A natural disaster. A dangerous intruder.
These situations are rare but REAL.
That is precisely why they are impossible to predict.
The 2022 mass shooting at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, is one of the most painful examples. During the attack, children trapped inside the school used their phones to call 911 and contact their families. The official review records students making emergency calls and communicating with parents while the incident was unfolding.
And with November approaching in just a couple of months, this is also something worth remembering as France prepares to commemorate the victims of the 13 November 2015 terrorist attacks in Paris at the Bataclan.
That night is a painful reminder that the situations we most need to prepare for are often the ones we cannot predict. During attacks, travel emergencies, or even the 11th September phones became a way for people inside to reach loved ones and emergency services â a small connection to the outside world when everything else had collapsed.
And letâs remember children need to be educated to properly use these devices, even at young ages, if they are thought not to overuse, because there is how to learn about safety, and they can save adults lives even at home and in unimaginable ways:
In 2020, a five-year-old boy in England saved his mother by calling 112 after she fell unconscious. He recognised the number from the side of his toy ambulance â a small piece of information he had absorbed through play, which became crucial when he suddenly needed it. This is what education can do: it can turn a tool into a lifeline.(Telford, England, July 2020; West Mercia Police, 26 August 2020.)
We cannot build school policy around the assumption that tomorrow will always look like yesterday.
The ordinary school day can be regulated.
The exceptional day cannot be predicted.
And when that day comes, a phone may be the only connection a child has to the outside world.
Sometimes the phone is also the witness
There is another uncomfortable possibility.
A mobile phone can sometimes be the only way a child can document what is happening to them.
An aggression in a corridor. Bullying somewhere. A threat. An assault. A situation in which the child knows that afterwards someone might simply ask:
âAre you sure that is what happened?â
This does not mean that students should be encouraged to film everything.
Recording people can create serious privacy and ethical problems, and filming an unfolding violent situation can put the person recording at greater risk.
But again, the answer should be education.
Teach students when they should seek immediate help. Teach them how to preserve evidence safely when appropriate. Teach them not to circulate images of victims. Teach them how to report an incident.
And, crucially, teach adults to take evidence seriously.
Sometimes, unfortunately, the phone may be the thing that allows the trusted adult to finally see what happened.
And then there is AI
This makes the issue even more urgent.
AI is not going away.
Young people are already using it. And it is part of daily work and study routines in developed counties of Easter Asia as it was the typewriter to Britain since Mill invented it in 1714 (and letâs remember how happy we all were when finally we could use computers to write and avoid that annoying editing that typewriters brought with them!).
A 2025 Pew Research Center survey found that 64% of U.S. teenagers aged 13â17 had used an AI chatbot. And whatâs should raise questions that should be considered priority in all governments is that twelve percent said they had used chatbots for emotional support or advice.
We should take that seriously.
But we should interpret it correctly.
AI is not a substitute for psychologists, teachers, parents or friends. Current evidence does not support treating general-purpose chatbots as mental-health professionals for teenagers.
But if a teenager finds it easier to type a difficult question into a chatbot at midnight than to tell an adult at home, perhaps we should also ask:
Why was the chatbot easier to talk to?
Was it because the machine did not interrupt?
Because it did not visibly judge?
Because the teenager was afraid of disappointing a parent?
Because there was no psychologist available?
Because they simply did not know how to begin?
These are educational and social questions.
And they are ours.
Not childrenâs.
The adults have to build the bridge
Young people did not create the technological world they inherited.
They are growing up in it.
So our responsibility is not to pull them backwards whenever something becomes difficult. It is to give them the education, critical thinking and support they need to navigate it.
Teach them how technology works. Teach them how to recognise danger, manipulation and misinformation. Teach them when a phone belongs in a bag and when it may be essential.
Give them the tools â then teach them how to use them.
Because adultsâ world is dangerous.
But it is also theirs.
And eventually, they will grow in these two, apparently distant, but much intertwined worlds.
A generation does not become safer because we remove its tools.
It becomes safer because we teach that generation how to use them, understand people, recognise danger, seek help and live with difference.
That is the responsibility of ADULTS.
And if we fail at that responsibility, taking away the phone will not save us.
A Collaborative Online Exhibition & Curatorial Project
âThe sky is what we all share â out of reach, yet available from everywhere.â
This page is part of my digital exhibition archive and preserves my participation in the collaborative online exhibition Beyond Blue. While the original exhibition was a temporary one, hence it is no longer available online, the artworks, documentation and reflections presented here aim to preserve the memory of this unique collaborative project.
Some artistic collaborations leave a lasting impression not only because of the works that are created, but because of the people, conversations and ideas that shape them. Beyond Blue is one of those experiences that I will always carry with me.
Developed during the COVID-19 pandemic, Beyond Blue was an international collaborative online exhibition created within the seminar Exhibiting Beyond the Physical Space, led by artist Paul Barsch as part of the EU4ART Alliance. The project brought together students from four European art academies: the Dresden University of Fine Arts (Germany), the Academy of Fine Arts of Rome (Italy), the Hungarian University of Fine Arts (Budapest) and the Art Academy of Latvia (Riga).
I had the privilege of participating both as a co-curator and as one of the eleven exhibiting artists, contributing original works while collaborating with fellow artists in imagining an exhibition that challenged conventional ideas of display and transformed digital space into an immersive artistic experience.
Unlike a traditional online gallery, Beyond Blue did not attempt to reproduce the physical museum. Instead, it embraced the possibilities of the virtual environment.
Hosted on the experimental platform OUT OF REACH, the exhibition invited visitors to float through an endless digital sky, discovering artworks suspended among the clouds as if looking out from the window of an aeroplane. The experience unfolded through free exploration rather than prescribed routes, encouraging moments of discovery and contemplation.
The sky itself was the exhibition.
It was created by assembling photographs taken by each participating artist from their own window during lockdown. Captured in different cities, at different times of day and under changing weather conditions, these fragments of sky merged into one continuous horizon, connecting local perspectives into a shared European landscape.
Separated by borders, restrictions and isolation, we remained united beneath the same sky.
This poetic concept reflected one of the defining paradoxes of the pandemic: feeling simultaneously everywhere and nowhere. While our physical movement had come almost to a standstill, our digital interactions continued to transcend distance. The shared sky became both a metaphor for virtual space and a reminder that, despite our separation, we all continued to inhabit the same world.
For me, Beyond Blue represented far more than an exhibition.
It became a place of dialogue, experimentation and collaboration during a period when many artists suddenly found themselves working in isolation. Through countless online meetings, discussions and shared ideas, we collectively reimagined what an exhibition could become when freed from the limitations of physical space.
My Contribution
Environmental concerns have been a recurring theme throughout my artistic practice since 2009, and Beyond Blue provided an opportunity to continue that research while expanding it through new media and collaborative curatorial practice.
For the exhibition I presented three interconnected artistic projects developed across watercolour, installation, photography, poetry and sound art. Together they explore different forms of fragilityâenvironmental, material and psychologicalâinviting viewers to reflect upon the delicate relationships that connect humanity, nature and memory.
Cynthia Calzolari (c) 2021
Particles (2021)
Watercolour, ink and pencils on vellum paper
Particles is a watercolour inspired by the increasingly urgent issue of space pollution.
While public attention has long focused on environmental challenges on Earth, the accumulation of abandoned satellites, rocket fragments and orbital debris has gradually transformed the space surrounding our planet into another vulnerable environment requiring care and responsibility.
Presented within the exhibitionâs virtual sky, the work became a symbolic fragment suspended among the clouds, inviting visitors to consider the consequences of humanityâs technological expansion beyond the Earthâs atmosphere. By selecting the artwork, viewers could access a dedicated page containing a larger version of the painting together with an accompanying text exploring the ethical and environmental implications of orbital pollution.
Cynthia Calzolari (c) 2021
Words are Melting (2021)
Paper, Ink, Plastic and Vellum parchment
The second project, Words are Melting, unfolds through several interconnected works that together form a single artistic investigation.
At its centre is an ephemeral installation consisting of a handwritten poem on vellum parchment, wrapped in transparent plastic and frozen beneath successive layers of ice.
As the sculpture gradually melted, I documented its transformation through photography. Cracking ice became miniature icebergs; melting water formed delicate crystalline structures before collapsing into snow-like avalanches. The work was conceived as a meditation on impermanence and on the accelerating disappearance of glaciers caused by climate change.
The materials themselves carry symbolic significance. While the ice inevitably disappears, the plastic remains unchangedâa quiet but powerful reminder of humanityâs lasting environmental footprint.
The installation is accompanied by a photographic series documenting its continuous transformation, allowing viewers to witness the workâs gradual disappearance and reinforcing the idea that change itself becomes part of the artwork.
The project culminates in Snowflakeâs Echo, a soundscape that transforms the original poem into an immersive audiovisual experience.
Cynthia Calzolari (c) 2021
Using my own recorded voice, natural field recordings, digitally manipulated sounds, the resonance of melting ice and the gentle tones of the kalimba, I created a work that exists somewhere between memory, dream and psychological landscape.
Within this piece, ice acquires a second symbolic meaning.
Its fragility becomes a metaphor for the human mind.
Just as ice fractures, melts and disappears under pressure, the human psyche can also be profoundly altered by trauma.
The work reflects upon the experiences of women whose voices are too often dismissed after speaking about sexism, abuse or violenceâvoices frequently labelled as âtoo emotionalâ, âtoo sensitiveâ or irrational simply because they refuse to remain silent.
Rather than illustrating madness itself, Snowflakeâs Echo invites the audience into an intimate interior landscape where memory, vulnerability and resilience coexist. The recurring sounds of melting ice become emotional echoes, reminding us that healing, like ice itself, is a fragile process requiring care, attention and time.
Explore the Works
The works presented here are part of my contribution to Beyond Blue.
Selecting each thumbnail will take you to a dedicated page where you can explore the artwork in greater detail through high-resolution images, additional documentation, artist statements and, where applicable, the complete audiovisual work.
Looking Back
Looking back today, Beyond Blue remains one of the most meaningful collaborative experiences of my artistic journey.
At a time when the world seemed suspended and uncertainty had become part of everyday life, this project demonstrated that art continues to create encounters even when people cannot physically meet. It transformed isolation into dialogue and distance into collaboration, proving that creativity can flourish wherever curiosity, generosity and shared purpose exist.
Beyond the artworks themselves, I will always remember the conversations, the exchange of ideas and the sense of belonging that emerged throughout the project.
Being surroundedâalbeit virtuallyâby artists who shared the same passion for experimentation and creative exploration made an extraordinary period feel a much less isolatingâŠand more inspiring.
These are the collaborations that remain with you.
Not only because of the works they produce, but because of the friendships, inspiration and collective memories they leave behind.
Although the original Beyond Blue platform is no longer publicly accessible, I hope this page preserves a small part of that remarkable experience and honours everyone who contributed to it.
Because, after allâŠ
Earth without Art is just âEh.â
Project Credits
Beyond Blue A collaborative online exhibition developed within the seminar
Exhibiting Beyond the Physical Space
Project Lead: Paul Barsch
Platform: OUT OF REACH
EU4ART Partner Institutions
Dresden University of Fine Arts (Germany)
Hungarian University of Fine Arts (Budapest)
Art Academy of Latvia (Riga)
Participating Artists
Nima Emami
Christian Silvester Seemann
Cynthia Calzolari
Laura Erika Urbanski
Isabell Alexandra Meldner
Alban Rosenberger
Ernesto Rodriguez
Alise Vaivode
Hanna Griepentrog
Sofia Antoniadou
Ann-Marie Najderek
đ«đ· Beyond Blue (au delĂ du bleu)
Une exposition en ligne et un projet de commissariat collaboratif
Nima Emami, Christian Silvester Seemann, Cynthia Calzolari, Laura Erika Urbanski, Isabell Alexandra Meldner, Alban Rosenberger, Ernesto Rodriguez, Alise Vaivode, Hanna Griepentrog, Sofia Antoniadou, Ann-Marie Najderek.
A few days ago I successfully completed a tutoring programme as a volunteer with Save the Childrenâs educational initiative, a project aimed at protecting the right to education for all children by providing support through tutoring, learning materials, and digital resources such as tablets. The programme was created to help counter educational poverty and learning loss, especially among children facing social and economic disadvantages.
The goal is simple, yet profoundly important: ensuring that access to education is not determined by the circumstances into which a child is born.
Whenever I take part in projects like this, I am left with the same feeling, regardless of whether it is an online one-to-one lesson or an in-person group class: children desperately need, and actively ask, to be listened to.
They ask for help.
They ask for support.
They ask for care.
The problem is that too often the adults they encounter before reaching that point are simply unable to hear them.
Not because they are indifferent or malicious. Quite the opposite. Most teachers genuinely care. Yet they operate within a system that increasingly makes meaningful listening almost impossible.
Teachers are expected to complete programmes that are often unrealistically extensive, prioritising curriculum delivery over studentsâ wellbeing and healthy development. They are asked to cover chapters upon chapters of textbooks, across multiple subjects, within timeframes that rarely allow for genuine understanding. Some of these programmes contain concepts and approaches that already felt outdated when I was a student; today, in a world shaped by climate change, artificial intelligence, digital transformations, and rapidly evolving societies, the gap between educational content and contemporary reality often appears even wider.
At the same time, many teachers are not provided with adequate training to recognise, manage, or report signs of distress that may be visible in students. They are frequently constrained in their dialogue with families, despite the fact that education should fundamentally be a partnership between schools and households.
Without that collaboration, success becomes unevenly distributed.
Not all children are fortunate enough to have parents who are teachers themselves, or who understand how to create an environment that supports learning. For many of the students I have worked with, difficulties rarely originated from a single factor.
Often, families struggled to support their childrenâs education. Sometimes they were simply unaware of how important it is for young people to have dedicated time and space not only for studying, but also for resting, recharging, and developing healthy routines. Frequently, children were expected to take responsibility for younger siblings during study time. It was not uncommon for brothers or sisters to interrupt lessons to ask for something, or to hear shouting and games from another room while we were trying to concentrate on an English exercise.
What struck me most was how recurrent these situations were, regardless of nationality, culture, or background. I observed similar patterns among Italian families as well as among families from many different parts of the world.
These children therefore face a double challenge.
They are not fully supported, and at the same time they are forced to fight for their right to education and self-determination at an age when they should simply be allowed to learn.
The frustration this creates is understandable. Many witness classmates progressing with seemingly less effort, supported by parents who can dedicate time, resources, quiet spaces, and guidance to their educational journey. The comparison can be painful.
This is one of the major cracks that educational systems in many countries continue to overlook. Where free after-school support, tutoring programmes, and accessible educational resources are unavailable, inequalities that begin at home become inequalities that persist throughout life.
Even when parents deeply value education, that does not automatically translate into creating the conditions necessary for learning. Weekends remain weekends for everyone. If a family lives in a small apartment, the television may be on just a few metres away from the kitchen table where homework is being completed. A parent having a snack on the sofa may unintentionally interrupt concentration every few minutes. These are not acts of neglect; they are often simply the realities of everyday life.
And yet these realities accumulate.
This is why equality remains such a difficult concept to transform from an abstract value into a lived reality, even within well-established democratic societies.
Recent data continue to confirm this connection between social inequality and educational outcomes. Save the Children and ISTAT describe educational poverty as a multidimensional phenomenon influenced by family, economic, social, and community factors. Educational poverty is not simply about grades; it concerns access to opportunities, cultural resources, social participation, personal aspirations, and the ability to develop oneâs talents and potential. In Italy, more than one in four minors remains at risk of poverty or social exclusion, while educational opportunities continue to vary significantly according to territory and family circumstances. Educational disadvantage remains strongly correlated with material disadvantage, reinforcing cycles that can persist across generations. (Save the Children Italia)
This does not mean that talent or hard work are irrelevant. Quite the opposite. It reminds us that merit is never developed in a vacuum. The opportunity to cultivate talent depends on countless invisible conditions: a quiet room in which to study, parents who understand educational pathways, access to books and technology, emotional stability, time, networks, encouragement, and the confidence that oneâs aspirations are legitimate. These are advantages that many children inherit long before they ever sit their first examination.
The French case echoes a broader European reality. We often celebrate education as the great equaliser, yet educational systems continue to mirrorâand sometimes reinforceâthe inequalities already present in society. As Pierre Bourdieu observed decades ago, schools can become places where social privilege is transformed into apparently objective merit. My experience as a volunteer repeatedly reminded me that what appears to be a difference in ability is very often a difference in opportunity.
Perhaps this is one of the reasons why the recent Korean drama Teach You a Lesson has resonated so powerfully with audiences worldwide. Beyond its narrative, it touches a nerve familiar to many societies: the tension between meritocracy and inequality, between effort and opportunity, between educational aspiration and structural barriers.
Its success reflects a broader collective recognition that education remains one of the central battlegrounds of modern societies. We continue to tell young people that hard work guarantees success, while simultaneously maintaining systems where starting points differ dramatically.
A month ago, I was at the hospital early in the morning for a medical appointment that I had booked months in advance.
As I entered the main building, I noticed several young students leaving through the main entrance. They walked in pairs, all carrying heavy backpacks. Judging by their uniforms and conversations, they appeared to be medical trainees finishing a shift.
As one pair passed by me, I overheard a fragment of conversation.
âI was sure I had checked that patient. I donât know why they said otherwiseâŠâ
The exhaustion in her voice immediately caught my attention.
The deep circles under her eyes, the weight of her expression, the way she carried herself: all revealed the burden of someone who had invested years of effort into education and had chosen a profession dedicated to caring for others.
That brief encounter stayed with me.
Today, as Europe experiences increasingly intense heatwaves, and after a violent storm recently damaged part of my parentsâ garden in the Roman countrysideâa landscape so often imagined as timeless and idyllicâI find myself connecting these memories with my ongoing research on climate change and cultural heritage.
What links these experiences is a simple observation.
Our societies are asking extraordinary things of younger generations.
to study longer.
to become more qualified.
to solve environmental crises, economic crises, demographic crises, and technological transformations.
Yet we see profoundly unequal conditions from which to begin.
If we genuinely believe education is the foundation of democratic societies, then respect for students must become a priority rather than an afterthought.
Respect means listening.
Respect means recognising that learning cannot occur in isolation from wellbeing.
Respect means acknowledging that not every child begins from the same starting line.
And respect means being honest from the very first day of a childâs educational journey about the social inequalities that continue to shape opportunities, even today.
Otherwise, we risk turning education into a form of gambling.
A system where success depends less on talent and effort than on the circumstances surrounding a child before they ever enter a classroom.
What is at stake is not only the future of individual students.
It is the future of entire societies.
Perhaps the reform we need is not simply another revision of curricula, examinations, or teaching methods. Perhaps what we need is a deeper reimagining of the relationship between education, social support, and work opportunitiesâa system capable of offering realistic pathways, meaningful guidance, and genuine opportunities for all young people.
Because every child deserves more than the promise of equality.
They deserve the conditions necessary to make that promise real.
If children all over the world keep asking adults to listen to them, perhaps the problem is no longer individual but structural. Whether in Italy, France, South Korea or elsewhere, we continue to expect extraordinary resilience from young people while leaving them to navigate profoundly unequal starting points. We tell them that education is the path to social mobility, yet too often we remain uncomfortable discussing how social class, family environment, inherited networks and economic security continue to shape that journey. Listening to children therefore means much more than helping them solve a mathematics exercise or understand an English text. It means listening to the conditions in which they are trying to learn. Until we are prepared to do that honestly, education risks becoming less a ladder of opportunity than a mirror reflecting the inequalities we claim to oppose. A genuine educational reform should therefore connect schools, families, welfare systems and labour markets, recognising that investing in children is not simply an act of compassion. It is one of the most important investments any democracy can make in its own future.
Societies cannot expect younger generations to solve tomorrowâs crises if they do not first provide us with fair conditions and educational space in which to develop the needed reasoning that will be needed tomorrow.
đŹđ§ IKIGAIïŒçăçČæïŒâ A Concept, Not a Trend
In recent years, ikigai has become a widely shared term across Western media, often simplified into diagrams or productivity formulas. While this circulation reflects -at times- a genuine curiosity toward Japanese philosophy, it also risks flattening a concept that is, in reality, deeply cultural, nuanced, and lived rather than âapplied.â
I have developed my professional skills and expertise while working across Japan, France, the United Kingdom, and Italy, so I have seen this happening very often: Concepts do not travel unchanged. They are interpreted, reorganised, and sometimes reshaped to fit different intellectual traditions andsocial expectations.
What begins as a lived philosophy can easily become a model.
What is fluid becomes structured.
What is personal experience becomes a universal truth.
For this reason, approaching ikigai requires a certain attentionânot only to its meaning, but to the context from which it emerges.
Ikigai as often happens abroad with Japanese words, has been used as topic to boost some sort of empty rhetoric about Japan or to show off some self proclaimed expertise without having taken a single course in Eastern Asia studies of any sorts.
Ikigai (çăçČæ) indeed, is not simply a word or a diagramâit is a philosophical orientation toward life.
Letâs give a closer look at what Ikigai (çăçČæ) Actually Refers To
Composed by the kanji çăçČæ we can identity first two main elements in it:
çă (iki) â living, being alive, to live
çČæ (gai) â value, effect, result, worth, where æ alone means beautiful, and all together gives the sense of that which makes something worth.
A translation would therefore be:
âWhat gives value to lifeâ with a sense of living value of things in oneâs own life.
Hence nothing directly referring to success. Nor career or productivity. Rather something that one can find in small little things of everyday life.
Vey different from the diagram and set of values generally attached to this concept, don’t you think?
In Japan, it is generally referred to as meaning, in its purest, and most intimate, everyday form.
Rather than a set of instructions, it points toward a sense of meaning that emerges through living; Not something abstract, and not something to be found through some very difficult calculations.
It is embedded in daily life, in self awareness, and in small continuities.
Between Interpretation and Reduction
One of the most widespread reinterpretations of ikigai is the 4-circle Venn diagram, or four-circle diagram, that should be used to identify what one likes doing, has expertises in, what they think the world and society need, and what they could be paid for, and consequently combining all this answers, be able to indicate the one ideal life activity/job.
The questions to answer on each of these four parts are :
what do you like?
what are you good at?
what does the world need?
what can you be paid for?
This structure is effective, which explains its success.
It offers clarity, direction, and a sense of control.
However, it is important to acknowledge that:
this model does not originate from Japanese tradition.
It is a reconstructionâone that reflects a particular cultural tendency to organise meaning into systems.
On the Origins of the âIkigai Diagramâ
As already mentioned, the diagram most commonly associated with ikigai todayâthe four intersecting circlesâdoes not originate from Japan.
This model circulated independently before later being associated with the term ikigai, particularly through Western self-development literature and coaching practices.
Over time, the two became merged.
Books such as Ikigai: The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life contributed significantly to the global popularisation of the term, though the diagram itself reflects more a Western framework of purpose and career alignment than a traditional Japanese conceptualisation.
Why This Matters?
This is not to dismiss the usefulness of the diagram, on the contrary, it can function as a valuable reflective tool for people from cultures where such conceptualisations are fundamental.
However, understanding its origin allows us to see it for what it is:
not a representation of ikigai itself,
but an interpretationâshaped by different cultural expectations and understandings.
Furthermore, this same diagram introduces to this concept:
structure
a sort of profiling approach,
and often, an implicit link to productivity and economic expections.
The Japanese Origins
A more recent western understanding of ikigai has been developed from Japan, and most notably was discussed by Japanese psychiatrist Mieko Kamiya in her 1966 work, but it only entered widespread Western discourse much later.
Its international successâselling millions of copies and being translated into numerous languagesâhelped establish ikigai as part of a broader trend of importing Asian lifestyle philosophies into other cultural frameworks (alongside other concepts such as zen or wabisabi, but also yoga related elements that hugely have permeated European societies since late 19th and early 20th centuries).
Ikigai, in its original context, remains:
informal
non-visual
detached from professional identity
In Japan, ikigai can be:
quiet
partial
evolving
contradictory
And importantly, it does not need to be justified through productivity or economic value.
Language, Culture, and Misinterpretation
As you can easily observe even at the supermarket, when concepts travel between culturesâespecially those rooted in lived practicesâthey often become reframed through external expectations.
This Venn model diagram can be useful, and as we saw, it is a modern reinterpretation, inspired byâbut not completely equivalent toâikigai.
Think of ikigai as something that can be:
small (a morning ritual, a craft, a relationship)
evolving (changing across life stages)
quiet (not necessarily visible or âproductiveâ)
This distinction matters, especially in a global context where meaning is often tied to performance.
âIkigai as an Inner Dialogueâ
Not by imposing structure from the outside, but by allowing an internal dialogue to take place.
A dialogue that is often postponed.
At its core, ikigai is not something you âfindâ once.
It is something you continuously negotiate within yourself.
An Inner Conversation We Rarely Allow
At the centre of ikigai is a form of questioning that is deceptively simple.
It begins with a simple, yet often neglected act:
Allowing oneself to ask honest questions.
This inner dialogue moves between two dimensions:
1. The Personal Sphere
Your intimate, individual world:
What do I naturally enjoy?
What brings me calm or energy?
What do I return to, even without reward?
What did I love before I felt observed or evaluated, or even undervalued?
This dimension is not always stable.
It shifts, it withdraws, it reappears.
This is the space of authenticity, often silenced by external pressure.
2. The Social Sphere
A space that situates the individual among others:
Where can I be useful?What is needed in the environments I am part of?
What skills can I offer without self-betrayal?What can I offer without feeling diminished?
How can I contribute without exhaustion or resentment?
What feels aligned, rather than imposed?
This is not about sacrificeâbut about sustainable participation in society.
âIt is more a sustainable process, like constructing a pathâ
In Japan, as elsewhere, uncertainty exists.
People lose direction, question their place, hesitate between possibilities.
Ikigai does not resolve this uncertainty.
It offers something else:
a way to construct a path so to allow everyone to explore oneself through questions, although none of the answers may appear clearly defined.
Ikigai indeed, emerges not from perfection, but from balance. It is the subtle convergence where:
personal happiness does not exclude responsibility
contribution does not erase individuality
As already saw, in Western adaptations, this is often mapped into four guiding questions:
What do I love? (passion)
What am I good at? (vocation / skills)
What does the world need? (mission)
What can I be paid for? (profession)
But rather than fixed categories, think of these as overlapping, sometimes in tension.
Hence, to summarise, in Japanese contexts, ikigai:
does not require monetisation
does not require ambition
does not require visibility
A personâs ikigai might be:
tending a garden
caring for family
practicing a craft
maintaining a daily ritual
baking
Gentle Practices
Rather than solving ikigai as a puzzle, it can be approached as a practice of attention.
You might begin with:
noticing what gives you energy (not just pleasure)
observing what feels meaningful after it is done
identifying what drains youâeven if socially valued
Over time, patterns emerge.
And within those patterns, a path formsânot imposed, but recognised.
This is not a question of adaptation or sacrifice,
but of finding a position that remains livable over time.
Difficult times are not new.
Every society, in every era, has faced uncertainty, imbalance, and transformation.
What changes is how we respond.
âPoints of Tension, Not Boxes to Fillâ
What do I love?
What am I capable of?
What is needed?
What can sustain me?
We have read often these questions in this post, and I hope you can now think of them rather than as fixed categories, as:
points of tension that require ongoing adjustment
They do not necessarily align.
And they are not meant to.
Ikigai does not appear as a perfect intersection as you can see now.
It takes shape within the space where different conditions, or even contradictions, become manageable.
âRethinking Valueâ
One of the most significant shifts, when returning closer to the Japanese understanding, is this:
Ikigai does not need to be visible.
It does not need to be productive.
It does not need to be monetised.
It may exist in:
Small everyday life repetition (ie. having teaâŠ)
care (ie. gardeningâŠ)
maintenance (ie. Tidying upâŠ)
attention to detail (ie. CookingâŠ)
continuity over time (ie. Finding time to send a message to a dear one, or to call, or write a letterâŠ)
Recognising this allows for a different relationship to valueâone that is not entirely dependent on external validation, but comes from our inner wellbeing and adjusts in accordance with it, whilst staying in balance with the world outside us.
Conclusions
Periods of difficulty, uncertainty, and imbalance are not anomalies.
They are recurring conditions across time and societies.
What changes is the way individuals relate to themselves within those conditions.
Returning to concepts such as ikigai is not about adopting a model,
but about reopening a space of reflection that is often neglected.
Not to find definitive answers,
but to allow a more attentive relationship to oneâs own trajectory whilst keeping respect for the worlds beyond ourselves.
And perhaps, especially in more difficult moments, to begin again from something essential:
to learn to love oneselfâso as to become more compassionate and more helpful towards others.
Not necessarily by being visible,
not necessarily by being present in a conventional sense,
but by contributingâsometimes quietly, sometimes from a distanceâ
in ways that remain aligned with both oneself and the world one is part of.
ââ
đ«đ· IKIGAIïŒçăçČæïŒâ Un concept, pas une tendance
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