Davide Smith Borrelli's Blog
August 5, 2025
The Risk of Getting Too Big for Your Britches
In July 1834, during his journey through the Northeast, Davy Crockett delivered a lengthy speech to the citizens of Cincinnati, openly reproaching President Jackson “for getting too big for his britches”1 and behaving like a capricious monarch who refused to accept any limits to his will.
Their relationship had greatly deteriorated, despite Crockett having supported Jackson’s first presidential campaign and believed in his promises to strengthen American democracy by freeing it from the country’s corrupt elite.
The clash between them stemmed from multiple causes, including Jackson’s excessive use of the presidential veto over congressional decisions, his brand of populism, and above all the Indian Removal Act, through which he had exercised presidential authority to force the Cherokee to abandon their lands—openly defying a Supreme Court ruling.
From Crockett’s point of view, Jackson’s behavior—his open disregard for the separation of powers and his insensitivity toward the rights of Native Americans—posed a threat to democracy and had to be vigorously opposed. Nonetheless, on January 30, 1835, Crockett saved President Jackson’s life by disarming and helping to arrest the English house painter who had attempted to shoot him.
When you believe in democracy, you must also believe in its ability to correct its mistakes—without the use of violence—through serious and honest public debate.
You’re probably thinking: “This guy’s messing with us. He used a photo of Sydney Sweeney advertising American Eagle jeans to give us a history lesson.” And in a way, you’re right—but isn’t that the whole point of advertising? To find a way to grab your attention?
You can do that with a striking image that taps into a trending topic, by breaking a pattern, or by challenging a belief or a bias. Provocation has long been one of advertisers’ favorite tools for delivering a message.
So what does Davy Crockett have to do with Sydney Sweeney’s jeans? Let’s set that aside for a moment and think about the reasons behind the controversy that, in recent days, has drawn in journalists, podcasters, influencers, and bloggers.
Does it really make sense for any advertisement to promote Nazism? I don’t think so. Nazism doesn’t sell, and I’m convinced that no sane person would ever consider using eugenics to market a mass-consumption product like jeans.
But is the pun in the American Eagle ad—the play on genes and jeans—just an innocent way to highlight Sydney Sweeney’s beauty? I don’t think so either. The purpose of advertising is to grab attention, and what better way to do that than to spark a juicy controversy between fanatics?
The American Eagle ad aims to signal a break from an established paradigm—and it does so deliberately, through provocation. I don’t think, however, that anyone had anticipated the scale of the debate it ended up triggering.
Listening to the arguments behind the controversy, I get the feeling that far too many people think they’re bigger than their own britches. Whether it’s those who see the ad as some kind of liberation of white people from the oppression of a woke conspiracy, or those accusing Sydney Sweeney of promoting Nazi propaganda, both sides are trying to cast themselves as liberators, as defenders of freedom.
In reality, both camps share the same unpleasant sense of victimhood, the same aggressive language, and the same barely concealed desire to personally discredit anyone who disagrees with them. The spokespeople on both sides seem to believe they’ve been called to defend humanity against an imminent threat poised to destroy democracy.
What would Davy Crockett think about the hidden threat behind a jeans ad? I believe he’d think that public debate has seriously deteriorated, and that the populists who try to exploit raw emotion are simply too loud. I think he’d say it’s our fault—that we feed our own narcissism by seeking out bizarre commentators with deranged opinions, always ready to politicize everything.
I also believe he’d advise you to read my book:
Zombies of Marx: The Return of Practical Reason.
Their relationship had greatly deteriorated, despite Crockett having supported Jackson’s first presidential campaign and believed in his promises to strengthen American democracy by freeing it from the country’s corrupt elite.
The clash between them stemmed from multiple causes, including Jackson’s excessive use of the presidential veto over congressional decisions, his brand of populism, and above all the Indian Removal Act, through which he had exercised presidential authority to force the Cherokee to abandon their lands—openly defying a Supreme Court ruling.
From Crockett’s point of view, Jackson’s behavior—his open disregard for the separation of powers and his insensitivity toward the rights of Native Americans—posed a threat to democracy and had to be vigorously opposed. Nonetheless, on January 30, 1835, Crockett saved President Jackson’s life by disarming and helping to arrest the English house painter who had attempted to shoot him.
When you believe in democracy, you must also believe in its ability to correct its mistakes—without the use of violence—through serious and honest public debate.
You’re probably thinking: “This guy’s messing with us. He used a photo of Sydney Sweeney advertising American Eagle jeans to give us a history lesson.” And in a way, you’re right—but isn’t that the whole point of advertising? To find a way to grab your attention?
You can do that with a striking image that taps into a trending topic, by breaking a pattern, or by challenging a belief or a bias. Provocation has long been one of advertisers’ favorite tools for delivering a message.
So what does Davy Crockett have to do with Sydney Sweeney’s jeans? Let’s set that aside for a moment and think about the reasons behind the controversy that, in recent days, has drawn in journalists, podcasters, influencers, and bloggers.
Does it really make sense for any advertisement to promote Nazism? I don’t think so. Nazism doesn’t sell, and I’m convinced that no sane person would ever consider using eugenics to market a mass-consumption product like jeans.
But is the pun in the American Eagle ad—the play on genes and jeans—just an innocent way to highlight Sydney Sweeney’s beauty? I don’t think so either. The purpose of advertising is to grab attention, and what better way to do that than to spark a juicy controversy between fanatics?
The American Eagle ad aims to signal a break from an established paradigm—and it does so deliberately, through provocation. I don’t think, however, that anyone had anticipated the scale of the debate it ended up triggering.
Listening to the arguments behind the controversy, I get the feeling that far too many people think they’re bigger than their own britches. Whether it’s those who see the ad as some kind of liberation of white people from the oppression of a woke conspiracy, or those accusing Sydney Sweeney of promoting Nazi propaganda, both sides are trying to cast themselves as liberators, as defenders of freedom.
In reality, both camps share the same unpleasant sense of victimhood, the same aggressive language, and the same barely concealed desire to personally discredit anyone who disagrees with them. The spokespeople on both sides seem to believe they’ve been called to defend humanity against an imminent threat poised to destroy democracy.
What would Davy Crockett think about the hidden threat behind a jeans ad? I believe he’d think that public debate has seriously deteriorated, and that the populists who try to exploit raw emotion are simply too loud. I think he’d say it’s our fault—that we feed our own narcissism by seeking out bizarre commentators with deranged opinions, always ready to politicize everything.
I also believe he’d advise you to read my book:
Zombies of Marx: The Return of Practical Reason.
July 19, 2025
Fascism as a Disease of the Soul
In recent years, there has been much talk about fascism.
In Italy, we almost always invoke it to accuse and delegitimize those who think differently from us.
Italy has never truly had the courage to face the guilt of its past, and, as often happens, this repression has turned into a new form of fanaticism: Italians turned inquisitors, ready to point the finger at anyone who dissents.
Unfortunately, this attitude has spread well beyond our borders, becoming common practice across much of the West.
The hunt for fascism in others has become so widespread that it has even turned into a global political weapon: Vladimir Putin used it as a pretext to unleash a brutal and senseless war against a free people—the Ukrainians.
What is fascism, then?
If I had to define it, I’d say it’s a disease of the soul.
When I use the word “fascism,” I refer to all those authoritarian drifts into which humanity retreats whenever it feels suffocated by fear or dissatisfaction, ultimately surrendering to violence in the name of a misguided sense of justice. It matters little whether it has taken the name of communism at times or the form of religious fanaticism at others.
The twentieth century was deeply marked by this disease. Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini, Mao, Pol Pot, and many others rode the wave of discomfort and fear triggered by freedom—a new kind of freedom, slowly emerging above all in the West, reshaping the rules by which humans lived.
Democracy and the free market promised a new era—but also new responsibilities.
To be free to determine one’s own path means taking responsibility for one’s life, choices, and mistakes: an unbearable burden for those used to depending on the whims of a capricious monarch or the will of a mysterious and vengeful God.
The authoritarian movements of the past century offered miraculous solutions to these fears, a safe escape from freedom itself: an absolute truth, a paradise on earth to be built.
They were all united by the deep conviction of knowing the right direction, of being able to impose a moral compass that would cure the ills brought by the new world.
The price paid for this madness was enormous: millions of deaths, poverty, and destruction.
At the end of the last century, with far too much arrogance, we believed we had defeated fascism.
European dictatorships had collapsed, the Soviet Union had dissolved, and China had opened up to the free market. It seemed like the beginning of a new era of peace.
But we had only defeated the symptoms, the external manifestation—not the disease.
The disease still lives within us.
It is a disease we must all be concerned about, one that strikes every time we fall into the temptation of imposing our ideas by force, every time we fail to recognize the dignity of the choices of others.
No one—regardless of where they stand on the political spectrum—can consider themselves immune.
On the contrary, those who believe they are immune, those who see themselves as guardians of justice, are probably already gravely afflicted with fascism and don’t even know it.
The beginning of this new millennium has transformed the world at an unprecedented speed.
Globalization, the internet, and now the development of artificial intelligence have radically changed our way of life in just a few years.
In many ways, these changes have been positive, but inevitably, every transformation brings fear and produces losers.
Today, the fear of a world changing at a pace we cannot control—and that shatters the expectations many had rightfully built their lives upon—has reawakened the disease of fascism in our souls.
It resurfaces in the arrogance of those who see themselves as the bearers of truth, in the hatred of the different, in social envy, in the urge to find an enemy to strike.
It is always the same disease, no matter what name we give it.
It is always the same poison of the soul, slowly eroding our humanity.
In Italy, we almost always invoke it to accuse and delegitimize those who think differently from us.
Italy has never truly had the courage to face the guilt of its past, and, as often happens, this repression has turned into a new form of fanaticism: Italians turned inquisitors, ready to point the finger at anyone who dissents.
Unfortunately, this attitude has spread well beyond our borders, becoming common practice across much of the West.
The hunt for fascism in others has become so widespread that it has even turned into a global political weapon: Vladimir Putin used it as a pretext to unleash a brutal and senseless war against a free people—the Ukrainians.
What is fascism, then?
If I had to define it, I’d say it’s a disease of the soul.
When I use the word “fascism,” I refer to all those authoritarian drifts into which humanity retreats whenever it feels suffocated by fear or dissatisfaction, ultimately surrendering to violence in the name of a misguided sense of justice. It matters little whether it has taken the name of communism at times or the form of religious fanaticism at others.
The twentieth century was deeply marked by this disease. Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini, Mao, Pol Pot, and many others rode the wave of discomfort and fear triggered by freedom—a new kind of freedom, slowly emerging above all in the West, reshaping the rules by which humans lived.
Democracy and the free market promised a new era—but also new responsibilities.
To be free to determine one’s own path means taking responsibility for one’s life, choices, and mistakes: an unbearable burden for those used to depending on the whims of a capricious monarch or the will of a mysterious and vengeful God.
The authoritarian movements of the past century offered miraculous solutions to these fears, a safe escape from freedom itself: an absolute truth, a paradise on earth to be built.
They were all united by the deep conviction of knowing the right direction, of being able to impose a moral compass that would cure the ills brought by the new world.
The price paid for this madness was enormous: millions of deaths, poverty, and destruction.
At the end of the last century, with far too much arrogance, we believed we had defeated fascism.
European dictatorships had collapsed, the Soviet Union had dissolved, and China had opened up to the free market. It seemed like the beginning of a new era of peace.
But we had only defeated the symptoms, the external manifestation—not the disease.
The disease still lives within us.
It is a disease we must all be concerned about, one that strikes every time we fall into the temptation of imposing our ideas by force, every time we fail to recognize the dignity of the choices of others.
No one—regardless of where they stand on the political spectrum—can consider themselves immune.
On the contrary, those who believe they are immune, those who see themselves as guardians of justice, are probably already gravely afflicted with fascism and don’t even know it.
The beginning of this new millennium has transformed the world at an unprecedented speed.
Globalization, the internet, and now the development of artificial intelligence have radically changed our way of life in just a few years.
In many ways, these changes have been positive, but inevitably, every transformation brings fear and produces losers.
Today, the fear of a world changing at a pace we cannot control—and that shatters the expectations many had rightfully built their lives upon—has reawakened the disease of fascism in our souls.
It resurfaces in the arrogance of those who see themselves as the bearers of truth, in the hatred of the different, in social envy, in the urge to find an enemy to strike.
It is always the same disease, no matter what name we give it.
It is always the same poison of the soul, slowly eroding our humanity.
July 7, 2025
The Social Construction of Confusion
How the West Lost Its Grip on Reality
In the Soviet Union, the word pravda (truth) had lost its original meaning. Educated people would say it had undergone a process of resemanticization. Pravda referred to the official version of a fact—an unquestionable narrative, regardless of whether it corresponded to reality.
To speak of the search for the essence of reality, the word istina was used. This term referred to a more intimate, personal dimension: the deep quest for human nature.
A basic defense mechanism against abuse is to retreat into a world of fantasy, into a space of safe intimacy. This psychological response was a consequence of the hysteresis into which Soviet society had fallen, driven in part by the impossibility of questioning authority and the passive resignation to its consequences.
Today, the West is experiencing the effects of a similar process, stemming from an epistemological principle that has spread through academia and transformed truth into the outcome of a social process—a social construct.
I do not doubt that certain beliefs throughout human history have emerged as products of social dynamics. Most of the superstitions that have afflicted human communities are the fruit of the imagination of shamans or priests, born out of the need to sustain fear of the divine and the supernatural in our primitive ancestors.
At times, these beliefs were imposed by violent conquerors seeking to force their culture upon the conquered and justify their own supremacy.
Such phenomena have little to do with truth itself and much more to do with the structure of human societies—phenomena that were especially widespread in the past.
When we learned to measure the world and observe reality through the lens of reason, many of these beliefs were swept away—along with the conviction that survival depended on the benevolence of some mysterious authority. Humanity emerged from the state of minority imposed by superstition, which Kant invoked to explain to his contemporaries the meaning of Enlightenment.
In recent years, however, constructivist epistemology has turned back the clock, reviving the strange belief that knowledge can be produced solely through the internal dynamics of human society—often disregarding the constraints imposed by reality and reason.
The revival of rhetoric, in new and often bizarre forms and outside the context in which the technique originally emerged, is one consequence of the adoption of constructivist epistemology. Political activism, to which intellectuals across disciplines now seem compelled to devote themselves, is another unfortunate outcome of this mindset.
The most damaging consequence of truth understood as a social construct, however, lies in the realm of communication and the media. The belief that truth can be constructed within social dynamics has transformed the analysis of facts, the dissemination of information, and public discourse into a continuous clash of opposing viewpoints—viewpoints that often disregard reality and stem more from the narcissism of those seeking to win than from the curiosity of those seeking to understand.
The information crisis in the West is, at its core, a direct result of this very attitude.
A striking example of this approach to truth can be found in those peculiar debates so popular in the United States, where a single speaker faces off against twenty opponents—say, a conservative against twenty progressives, or a Democrat against twenty Republicans.
I can hardly imagine anything more pointless than watching such a debate.
The purpose of these confrontations is clearly not to engage with facts or to propose strategies for dealing with complexity—which, properly understood, is the aim of rhetoric. Rather, the goal is to narrate a version of the truth and impose it on the audience, often by merely discrediting the opposing viewpoint.
The assumption behind these debates is that something meaningful might emerge from the collision of divergent perspectives. But confrontation is of little value if there is no shared agreement on the facts—or worse, if the facts are ignored altogether.
I believe the time has come to leave behind the unpleasant epistemological habits of recent years and to accept that truth cannot exist independently of its relationship with reality. Perhaps such an acceptance will help us temper certain forms of fanaticism.
How do we fix this? Four simple words: Buy my damn book
Zombies of Marx on Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F1DBJ96C
In the Soviet Union, the word pravda (truth) had lost its original meaning. Educated people would say it had undergone a process of resemanticization. Pravda referred to the official version of a fact—an unquestionable narrative, regardless of whether it corresponded to reality.
To speak of the search for the essence of reality, the word istina was used. This term referred to a more intimate, personal dimension: the deep quest for human nature.
A basic defense mechanism against abuse is to retreat into a world of fantasy, into a space of safe intimacy. This psychological response was a consequence of the hysteresis into which Soviet society had fallen, driven in part by the impossibility of questioning authority and the passive resignation to its consequences.
Today, the West is experiencing the effects of a similar process, stemming from an epistemological principle that has spread through academia and transformed truth into the outcome of a social process—a social construct.
I do not doubt that certain beliefs throughout human history have emerged as products of social dynamics. Most of the superstitions that have afflicted human communities are the fruit of the imagination of shamans or priests, born out of the need to sustain fear of the divine and the supernatural in our primitive ancestors.
At times, these beliefs were imposed by violent conquerors seeking to force their culture upon the conquered and justify their own supremacy.
Such phenomena have little to do with truth itself and much more to do with the structure of human societies—phenomena that were especially widespread in the past.
When we learned to measure the world and observe reality through the lens of reason, many of these beliefs were swept away—along with the conviction that survival depended on the benevolence of some mysterious authority. Humanity emerged from the state of minority imposed by superstition, which Kant invoked to explain to his contemporaries the meaning of Enlightenment.
In recent years, however, constructivist epistemology has turned back the clock, reviving the strange belief that knowledge can be produced solely through the internal dynamics of human society—often disregarding the constraints imposed by reality and reason.
The revival of rhetoric, in new and often bizarre forms and outside the context in which the technique originally emerged, is one consequence of the adoption of constructivist epistemology. Political activism, to which intellectuals across disciplines now seem compelled to devote themselves, is another unfortunate outcome of this mindset.
The most damaging consequence of truth understood as a social construct, however, lies in the realm of communication and the media. The belief that truth can be constructed within social dynamics has transformed the analysis of facts, the dissemination of information, and public discourse into a continuous clash of opposing viewpoints—viewpoints that often disregard reality and stem more from the narcissism of those seeking to win than from the curiosity of those seeking to understand.
The information crisis in the West is, at its core, a direct result of this very attitude.
A striking example of this approach to truth can be found in those peculiar debates so popular in the United States, where a single speaker faces off against twenty opponents—say, a conservative against twenty progressives, or a Democrat against twenty Republicans.
I can hardly imagine anything more pointless than watching such a debate.
The purpose of these confrontations is clearly not to engage with facts or to propose strategies for dealing with complexity—which, properly understood, is the aim of rhetoric. Rather, the goal is to narrate a version of the truth and impose it on the audience, often by merely discrediting the opposing viewpoint.
The assumption behind these debates is that something meaningful might emerge from the collision of divergent perspectives. But confrontation is of little value if there is no shared agreement on the facts—or worse, if the facts are ignored altogether.
I believe the time has come to leave behind the unpleasant epistemological habits of recent years and to accept that truth cannot exist independently of its relationship with reality. Perhaps such an acceptance will help us temper certain forms of fanaticism.
How do we fix this? Four simple words: Buy my damn book
Zombies of Marx on Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F1DBJ96C
May 12, 2025
Rerum Novarum
“You probably tremble more in pronouncing the sentence against me than I do in hearing it.” These were the words Giordano Bruno spoke to the judges who sentenced him to death.
In Latin, it has a different kind of power: Maiori forsan cum timore sententiam in me fertis quam ego accipiam. Giordano Bruno is a symbol of freedom. Although he wasn’t among the most brilliant philosophers of his time, the persecution he endured has made his memory immortal.
Today, in Campo de' Fiori, on the very spot where he was burned alive, his statue reminds us of the importance of freedom of thought—and the misery of censorship.
The statue of Giordano Bruno in Campo de' Fiori has an interesting story that involves Pope Leo XIII, the author of the encyclical Rerum Novarum, which the current Pope has declared to be one of his sources of inspiration.
The construction of a monument dedicated to Giordano Bruno was approved in 1888 by the liberal majority of the City Council of Rome, in the newly formed Italian monarchy.
On the eve of the inauguration, Leo XIII threatened to abandon Rome if the statue were unveiled to the public. But the liberals had already decided to play a little trick on the Pope.
It is said that the Prime Minister, Francesco Crispi, warned the Pope that if he left Italy, he would not be allowed to return.
Leo XIII did not follow through with his threat and instead spent the day of the inauguration praying in front of the statue of Saint Peter.
I have always regarded Giordano Bruno’s condemnation, however horrible and unjustified, as a matter internal to religion—something that has little to do with the history of thought, and even less with the history of knowledge.
My opinion, in the end, is the same as Leo XIII’s—and likely the root of his resentment.
Still, a trick is a trick, and that statue was above all a symbol of a new world—one in which even a heretic would have the right to freely express their opinion, and where no one was allowed to use violence to erase ideas.
The liberals were too optimistic. They believed they had won, that humanity had finally freed itself from fanaticism, and that religious fundamentalism had been silenced. The following century, however, would witness the birth of new forms of fanaticism—secular this time, but no less violent.
Leo XIII, fortified by two thousand years of history, knew that the new world emerging still carried the legacy of the old. And he knew that many people, frightened by the changes modernity imposed, would be looking for answers and for reassuring guidance.
He saw more clearly than most the dangers of secular fanaticism taking hold of society. That is why, in 1891, he wrote the encyclical Rerum Novarum, which I discuss in detail in Chapter 6 of Zombies of Marx.
It marked a turning point for the Catholic Church, which was beginning to accept the challenge of modernity and gradually engaging in the development of a theory of human society that we now call Catholic social teaching.
I believe Catholic social teaching raises more problems than it solves, but it is nonetheless an example of the adaptability of the oldest continuously active human institution.
The new Pope has chosen the name Leo XIV. I don’t think there’s any need to build a new statue of Giordano Bruno to make him understand that, once again, the world is changing—and that soon we will have to confront new things, along with the anxiety and fear that always accompany them.
I believe this new Pope is fully aware of it.
However, I also think he chose the name “Leo” to be inspired by the first Pope to bear it—Leo the Great. It was Leo the Great who brought order to the early Church and helped lay the foundations of the Catholic faith.
After all, the first duty of the Pope is to deal with religion. Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s. Isn’t that how the saying goes?
📘 Zombies di Marx is available on:
📱 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F1DBJ96C/
Or you can ask for it at your local bookstore.
In Latin, it has a different kind of power: Maiori forsan cum timore sententiam in me fertis quam ego accipiam. Giordano Bruno is a symbol of freedom. Although he wasn’t among the most brilliant philosophers of his time, the persecution he endured has made his memory immortal.
Today, in Campo de' Fiori, on the very spot where he was burned alive, his statue reminds us of the importance of freedom of thought—and the misery of censorship.
The statue of Giordano Bruno in Campo de' Fiori has an interesting story that involves Pope Leo XIII, the author of the encyclical Rerum Novarum, which the current Pope has declared to be one of his sources of inspiration.
The construction of a monument dedicated to Giordano Bruno was approved in 1888 by the liberal majority of the City Council of Rome, in the newly formed Italian monarchy.
On the eve of the inauguration, Leo XIII threatened to abandon Rome if the statue were unveiled to the public. But the liberals had already decided to play a little trick on the Pope.
It is said that the Prime Minister, Francesco Crispi, warned the Pope that if he left Italy, he would not be allowed to return.
Leo XIII did not follow through with his threat and instead spent the day of the inauguration praying in front of the statue of Saint Peter.
I have always regarded Giordano Bruno’s condemnation, however horrible and unjustified, as a matter internal to religion—something that has little to do with the history of thought, and even less with the history of knowledge.
My opinion, in the end, is the same as Leo XIII’s—and likely the root of his resentment.
Still, a trick is a trick, and that statue was above all a symbol of a new world—one in which even a heretic would have the right to freely express their opinion, and where no one was allowed to use violence to erase ideas.
The liberals were too optimistic. They believed they had won, that humanity had finally freed itself from fanaticism, and that religious fundamentalism had been silenced. The following century, however, would witness the birth of new forms of fanaticism—secular this time, but no less violent.
Leo XIII, fortified by two thousand years of history, knew that the new world emerging still carried the legacy of the old. And he knew that many people, frightened by the changes modernity imposed, would be looking for answers and for reassuring guidance.
He saw more clearly than most the dangers of secular fanaticism taking hold of society. That is why, in 1891, he wrote the encyclical Rerum Novarum, which I discuss in detail in Chapter 6 of Zombies of Marx.
It marked a turning point for the Catholic Church, which was beginning to accept the challenge of modernity and gradually engaging in the development of a theory of human society that we now call Catholic social teaching.
I believe Catholic social teaching raises more problems than it solves, but it is nonetheless an example of the adaptability of the oldest continuously active human institution.
The new Pope has chosen the name Leo XIV. I don’t think there’s any need to build a new statue of Giordano Bruno to make him understand that, once again, the world is changing—and that soon we will have to confront new things, along with the anxiety and fear that always accompany them.
I believe this new Pope is fully aware of it.
However, I also think he chose the name “Leo” to be inspired by the first Pope to bear it—Leo the Great. It was Leo the Great who brought order to the early Church and helped lay the foundations of the Catholic faith.
After all, the first duty of the Pope is to deal with religion. Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s. Isn’t that how the saying goes?
📘 Zombies di Marx is available on:
📱 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F1DBJ96C/
Or you can ask for it at your local bookstore.
May 5, 2025
The philosopher’s stone
An ancient medieval legend told how Saint Dominic had discovered the secret of the philosopher’s stone, and how this secret had later reached Thomas Aquinas.
The Treatise on the Philosopher’s Stone, attributed to Aquinas, describes the procedures to obtain it. Among the many properties of the philosopher’s stone, there was that of transforming base metals into gold. Its holder could have gained immense wealth: buying whatever they desired without producing anything.
Someone would call it a “trade deficit”; I call it “living off rent.”
Of course, this is just a legend, tied to a time when we believed that gold had intrinsic value. But there is a way to obtain immense wealth without having to produce: by controlling the currency the entire planet uses to trade.
Whoever can print the international currency—that is, the currency different nations use as a medium to finance exchanges—is like the holder of the philosopher’s stone. Today, China and Europe, Brazil and Argentina, Russia and the United Arab Emirates exchange goods using the dollar as currency.
The dollar is the international currency and, therefore, the philosopher’s stone of our time. Why do the United States enjoy this advantage?
Without hypocrisy, the first reason is military and technological superiority, which no one has questioned since the end of the Second World War, and which makes North America the safest and most stable area on the planet.
The second reason is that the United States is a democracy, which became a refuge for millions of people over the past century—including some of the most brilliant minds on the planet. The third reason is that North America possesses abundant natural resources, which allow its economy to grow robustly.
Military strength, mass immigration, and economic freedom have enabled the U.S. to control the international currency.
Of course, controlling the international currency comes at a cost: it exposes the American economy to inflationary crises every time the global economy slows down; it requires significant investment in military spending and a careful approach to foreign policy.
Today, that cost is increasingly perceived by Americans as too high. That’s their choice, and it’s a legitimate one: they want to toss their philosopher’s stone overboard. They’ll likely do so definitively by undermining the independence of the Fed. We can’t change their minds.
Even though God never commanded anyone to be stupid, He can’t stop someone from doing something very stupid either.
The Treatise on the Philosopher’s Stone, attributed to Aquinas, describes the procedures to obtain it. Among the many properties of the philosopher’s stone, there was that of transforming base metals into gold. Its holder could have gained immense wealth: buying whatever they desired without producing anything.
Someone would call it a “trade deficit”; I call it “living off rent.”
Of course, this is just a legend, tied to a time when we believed that gold had intrinsic value. But there is a way to obtain immense wealth without having to produce: by controlling the currency the entire planet uses to trade.
Whoever can print the international currency—that is, the currency different nations use as a medium to finance exchanges—is like the holder of the philosopher’s stone. Today, China and Europe, Brazil and Argentina, Russia and the United Arab Emirates exchange goods using the dollar as currency.
The dollar is the international currency and, therefore, the philosopher’s stone of our time. Why do the United States enjoy this advantage?
Without hypocrisy, the first reason is military and technological superiority, which no one has questioned since the end of the Second World War, and which makes North America the safest and most stable area on the planet.
The second reason is that the United States is a democracy, which became a refuge for millions of people over the past century—including some of the most brilliant minds on the planet. The third reason is that North America possesses abundant natural resources, which allow its economy to grow robustly.
Military strength, mass immigration, and economic freedom have enabled the U.S. to control the international currency.
Of course, controlling the international currency comes at a cost: it exposes the American economy to inflationary crises every time the global economy slows down; it requires significant investment in military spending and a careful approach to foreign policy.
Today, that cost is increasingly perceived by Americans as too high. That’s their choice, and it’s a legitimate one: they want to toss their philosopher’s stone overboard. They’ll likely do so definitively by undermining the independence of the Fed. We can’t change their minds.
Even though God never commanded anyone to be stupid, He can’t stop someone from doing something very stupid either.
April 19, 2025
What is a woman?
The United Kingdom Supreme Court has ruled that, under the Gender Equality Act, the word woman refers exclusively to biologically female individuals. Transgender women, therefore, are excluded from the scope of this legislation.
This is a significant decision because the law, among other things, reserves 50% of the seats on the boards of public bodies for women.
The fact that a court of law had to rule on the definition of woman shows just how confused the times we live in have become, and how certain pseudoscientific theories have influenced our perception of society and reality.
The news made headlines around the world, presented by some as a victory for women’s rights, by others as a sign of lingering homophobia in Western society.
I don't know if it’s a victory for women—it seems to me simply the recognition of an obvious truth. I don’t believe the judges’ decision has anything to do with homophobia; I believe it has everything to do with biology.
“So what is a woman, then?” It’s a self-evident question that we shouldn’t even need to ask—just as we should have no doubt that every minority deserves protection from discrimination and hatred.
Unfortunately, in recent years, the issue of individual rights—the right to be oneself—has been framed as a zero-sum game, where someone must lose for someone else to win.
But that’s not the case. Individual rights are not a zero-sum game, and there’s no need to point fingers at others when fighting for one’s own rights.
That’s how it’s been done for too long, and it hasn’t worked particularly well: it has created conflict where there was none and fragmented society, bringing out our worst instincts.
I hope this ruling marks a new beginning—a prompt to address the issue of rights not only in terms of conflict. Perhaps it’s a vain hope.
📘 Zombies of Marx is available for purchase on:
📱 Kindle: https://amzn.eu/d/d2vMR48
Or you can ask for it at your local bookstore.
If you're interested in understanding how ideologies survive, evolve, and re-emerge in new forms, you might just find that this book is also about you.
This is a significant decision because the law, among other things, reserves 50% of the seats on the boards of public bodies for women.
The fact that a court of law had to rule on the definition of woman shows just how confused the times we live in have become, and how certain pseudoscientific theories have influenced our perception of society and reality.
The news made headlines around the world, presented by some as a victory for women’s rights, by others as a sign of lingering homophobia in Western society.
I don't know if it’s a victory for women—it seems to me simply the recognition of an obvious truth. I don’t believe the judges’ decision has anything to do with homophobia; I believe it has everything to do with biology.
“So what is a woman, then?” It’s a self-evident question that we shouldn’t even need to ask—just as we should have no doubt that every minority deserves protection from discrimination and hatred.
Unfortunately, in recent years, the issue of individual rights—the right to be oneself—has been framed as a zero-sum game, where someone must lose for someone else to win.
But that’s not the case. Individual rights are not a zero-sum game, and there’s no need to point fingers at others when fighting for one’s own rights.
That’s how it’s been done for too long, and it hasn’t worked particularly well: it has created conflict where there was none and fragmented society, bringing out our worst instincts.
I hope this ruling marks a new beginning—a prompt to address the issue of rights not only in terms of conflict. Perhaps it’s a vain hope.
📘 Zombies of Marx is available for purchase on:
📱 Kindle: https://amzn.eu/d/d2vMR48
Or you can ask for it at your local bookstore.
If you're interested in understanding how ideologies survive, evolve, and re-emerge in new forms, you might just find that this book is also about you.
April 11, 2025
Il mondo è pieno di brave persone che fanno cose orribili
"il mondo è pieno di brave persone che fanno cose orribili", è una frase che mia madre ci ripete spesso e che ha rubato ad Hercules Poirot. È la frase che ho usato come dedica sulla prima pagina di Zombies di Marx.
Spesso le brave persone che fanno cose orribili, credono di aver subito un'ingiustizia talmente grave da sentirsi in diritto di compiere qualsiasi azione.
A volte le brave persone si convincono che il mondo sia talmente ingiusto e ottuso da dover essere cambiato a tutti i costi e sono certe di conoscere la formula per costruire un società perfetta.
Purtroppo, parole come giustizia, perfezione ed equità scontano un enorme livello di soggettività e queste brave persone, per cambiare il mondo, finiscono per cedere al fanatismo.
Accecati dal moralismo, smettono di coltivare il dubbio e di chiedersi quanto sanno davvero di quel mondo così orribile che sono sicuri cambiaranno in meglio. Diventano Zombies in buona sostanza.
In questi giorni la politica mondiale ha parlato, in alcuni casi senza ragionare. Viviamo in un mondo imperfetto almeno secondo gli standard di perfezione della gran parte degli esseri umani.
Gli occidentali vivono però meglio degli altri esseri umani. Non sempre per loro meriti, ma sicuramente perchè, ad un certo punto, hanno compreso che la libertà individuale è uno strumento potente per la creazione di benessere.
C'è ancora molto da fare e l'occidente deve imparare ad essere più modesto e a riconoscere i suoi errori e la sua vanagloria: il nostro tenore di vita dipende dalla fortuna e da una storia non sempre edificante.
Questo è il passato e, piaccia o no, non possiamo cambiarlo. Possiamo cambiare il presente, ma per farlo dobbiamo essere consapevoli che ogni cambiamento è doloroso e porta con sè una buona dose di sacrifici: cambiamento non è sinonimo di miglioramento.
Ora io chiedo alle molte brave persone che pensano di sapere esattamente cosa fare, che credono che sia saggio abbandonare il dollaro come moneta internazionale e che annunciano guerre che non sono sicuri di poter vincere: siete sicuri che non spingerete milioni di persone nella povertà?
Cosa vi rende diversi da chi ha commesso le peggiori stragi del novecento? Ho paura che basti poco perchè anche una brava persona finisca a fare cose orribili.
📘 Zombies di Marx puoi acquistarlo su
📲 Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/it/it/ebook/zomb...
📱 Kindle: https://amzn.eu/d/iSiNCp9
o chiederlo alla tua libreria di fiducia.
Se ti interessa capire come le ideologie sopravvivono, mutano e riemergono sotto nuove forme, potresti scoprire che questo libro parla anche di te.
Spesso le brave persone che fanno cose orribili, credono di aver subito un'ingiustizia talmente grave da sentirsi in diritto di compiere qualsiasi azione.
A volte le brave persone si convincono che il mondo sia talmente ingiusto e ottuso da dover essere cambiato a tutti i costi e sono certe di conoscere la formula per costruire un società perfetta.
Purtroppo, parole come giustizia, perfezione ed equità scontano un enorme livello di soggettività e queste brave persone, per cambiare il mondo, finiscono per cedere al fanatismo.
Accecati dal moralismo, smettono di coltivare il dubbio e di chiedersi quanto sanno davvero di quel mondo così orribile che sono sicuri cambiaranno in meglio. Diventano Zombies in buona sostanza.
In questi giorni la politica mondiale ha parlato, in alcuni casi senza ragionare. Viviamo in un mondo imperfetto almeno secondo gli standard di perfezione della gran parte degli esseri umani.
Gli occidentali vivono però meglio degli altri esseri umani. Non sempre per loro meriti, ma sicuramente perchè, ad un certo punto, hanno compreso che la libertà individuale è uno strumento potente per la creazione di benessere.
C'è ancora molto da fare e l'occidente deve imparare ad essere più modesto e a riconoscere i suoi errori e la sua vanagloria: il nostro tenore di vita dipende dalla fortuna e da una storia non sempre edificante.
Questo è il passato e, piaccia o no, non possiamo cambiarlo. Possiamo cambiare il presente, ma per farlo dobbiamo essere consapevoli che ogni cambiamento è doloroso e porta con sè una buona dose di sacrifici: cambiamento non è sinonimo di miglioramento.
Ora io chiedo alle molte brave persone che pensano di sapere esattamente cosa fare, che credono che sia saggio abbandonare il dollaro come moneta internazionale e che annunciano guerre che non sono sicuri di poter vincere: siete sicuri che non spingerete milioni di persone nella povertà?
Cosa vi rende diversi da chi ha commesso le peggiori stragi del novecento? Ho paura che basti poco perchè anche una brava persona finisca a fare cose orribili.
📘 Zombies di Marx puoi acquistarlo su
📲 Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/it/it/ebook/zomb...
📱 Kindle: https://amzn.eu/d/iSiNCp9
o chiederlo alla tua libreria di fiducia.
Se ti interessa capire come le ideologie sopravvivono, mutano e riemergono sotto nuove forme, potresti scoprire che questo libro parla anche di te.
The world is full of good people who do terrible things
"The world is full of good people who do terrible things"—this is something my mother often tells us, a phrase she borrowed from Hercule Poirot. It’s also the line I used as a dedication on the first page of Zombies of Marx.
Often, the good people who do terrible things believe they’ve suffered such a grave injustice that they feel entitled to do anything in response. Sometimes, they become convinced that the world is so unjust and obtuse that it must be changed at all costs—and they’re certain they hold the formula to build a perfect society.
Unfortunately, words like justice, perfection, and equity carry an enormous degree of subjectivity, and these good people, in their mission to change the world, end up surrendering to fanaticism.
Blinded by moralism, they stop cultivating doubt. They stop asking themselves how much they truly know about this horrible world they are so sure they will improve. They become Zombies, essentially.
These days, global politics has spoken—sometimes without thinking. We live in an imperfect world, at least by the standards of perfection most human beings hold.
Westerners, however, live better than other human beings. Not always by merit, but certainly because, at some point, they realized that individual freedom is a powerful tool for creating well-being.
There is still much to be done, and the West must learn to be more humble—to recognize its mistakes and its vanity: our standard of living depends on luck and on a history that is not always uplifting.
This is the past, and whether we like it or not, we cannot change it. We can change the present—but to do so, we must be aware that every change is painful and comes with a fair share of sacrifice. Change is not synonymous with improvement.
Now, I ask all the many good people who believe they know exactly what to do: Are you certain you won’t be driving millions of people into poverty?
What makes you different from those who committed the worst massacres of the twentieth century?
I’m afraid it takes very little for even a good person to end up doing terrible things.
📘 Zombies of Marx is available for purchase on:
📱 Kindle: https://amzn.eu/d/d2vMR48
Or you can ask for it at your local bookstore.
If you're interested in understanding how ideologies survive, evolve, and re-emerge in new forms, you might just find that this book is also about you.
Often, the good people who do terrible things believe they’ve suffered such a grave injustice that they feel entitled to do anything in response. Sometimes, they become convinced that the world is so unjust and obtuse that it must be changed at all costs—and they’re certain they hold the formula to build a perfect society.
Unfortunately, words like justice, perfection, and equity carry an enormous degree of subjectivity, and these good people, in their mission to change the world, end up surrendering to fanaticism.
Blinded by moralism, they stop cultivating doubt. They stop asking themselves how much they truly know about this horrible world they are so sure they will improve. They become Zombies, essentially.
These days, global politics has spoken—sometimes without thinking. We live in an imperfect world, at least by the standards of perfection most human beings hold.
Westerners, however, live better than other human beings. Not always by merit, but certainly because, at some point, they realized that individual freedom is a powerful tool for creating well-being.
There is still much to be done, and the West must learn to be more humble—to recognize its mistakes and its vanity: our standard of living depends on luck and on a history that is not always uplifting.
This is the past, and whether we like it or not, we cannot change it. We can change the present—but to do so, we must be aware that every change is painful and comes with a fair share of sacrifice. Change is not synonymous with improvement.
Now, I ask all the many good people who believe they know exactly what to do: Are you certain you won’t be driving millions of people into poverty?
What makes you different from those who committed the worst massacres of the twentieth century?
I’m afraid it takes very little for even a good person to end up doing terrible things.
📘 Zombies of Marx is available for purchase on:
📱 Kindle: https://amzn.eu/d/d2vMR48
Or you can ask for it at your local bookstore.
If you're interested in understanding how ideologies survive, evolve, and re-emerge in new forms, you might just find that this book is also about you.
April 5, 2025
The Economic Consequences of Mr Trump
“The Economic Consequences of Mr Churchill” is a short essay by John Maynard Keynes, included in the collection Essays in Persuasion. It draws on a series of three articles published in the Evening Standard in July 1925. Keynes criticized—though not without a certain irony—the British Prime Minister’s attempt to revalue the pound, restoring the exchange rate to its pre–World War I level.
I have no doubt that, were Keynes alive today, he would write The Economic Consequences of Mr Trump. I’m not John Maynard Keynes, and I’ll settle for having written Zombies of Marx — available on Amazon: https://amzn.eu/d/hvHKPKh
I believe that predicting the consequences of economic policies is always difficult—not only because they concern the future, but because they depend on the unpredictability of human action. Understanding human intentions is much easier.
I believe President Trump, through his tariffs, aims to simultaneously reduce the enormous U.S. trade deficit and rebalance the public budget. Tariffs are, of course, just one component of a broader plan that also includes cuts in public spending and lower taxes for producers.
I have no doubt these decisions are made in the interest of the American people. If economic systems worked like clockwork, they might even produce the desired results.
It’s highly likely that tariffs alone won’t be enough to balance the public deficit—especially in the face of generous tax cuts.
What is absolutely certain is that they will increase import prices and reduce demand for foreign goods.
The tariffs imposed by Trump will not eliminate imports altogether, and everything American consumers continue to buy from abroad will cost more. Even goods produced by American manufacturers will eventually become more expensive. Tariffs, after all, raise the prices of foreign goods to allow domestic producers to replace them, despite their higher production costs.
In short: tariffs are a perfect way to create inflation and depress domestic demand—of course, assuming wages don’t rise.
I never would have believed that someone, on this planet, might decide to repeat the failed policies of the European Union, hoping they’ll suddenly work.
How President Trump plans to avoid a wage-price spiral while also persuading the Fed not to raise interest rates remains a mystery to me. I suspect it’s a mystery to him as well—or maybe he thinks Americans will suddenly resign themselves to being poorer?
At this point, you might be asking: what should countries hit by the tariffs do?
I believe Western economies should simply integrate more closely with each other, abandon some of the strange superstitions that circulate—especially in Europe—and ignore Trump’s tariffs.
If someone cuts off their own hand, you don’t need to respond by cutting off your arm.
God never ordered anyone to be stupid
I have no doubt that, were Keynes alive today, he would write The Economic Consequences of Mr Trump. I’m not John Maynard Keynes, and I’ll settle for having written Zombies of Marx — available on Amazon: https://amzn.eu/d/hvHKPKh
I believe that predicting the consequences of economic policies is always difficult—not only because they concern the future, but because they depend on the unpredictability of human action. Understanding human intentions is much easier.
I believe President Trump, through his tariffs, aims to simultaneously reduce the enormous U.S. trade deficit and rebalance the public budget. Tariffs are, of course, just one component of a broader plan that also includes cuts in public spending and lower taxes for producers.
I have no doubt these decisions are made in the interest of the American people. If economic systems worked like clockwork, they might even produce the desired results.
It’s highly likely that tariffs alone won’t be enough to balance the public deficit—especially in the face of generous tax cuts.
What is absolutely certain is that they will increase import prices and reduce demand for foreign goods.
The tariffs imposed by Trump will not eliminate imports altogether, and everything American consumers continue to buy from abroad will cost more. Even goods produced by American manufacturers will eventually become more expensive. Tariffs, after all, raise the prices of foreign goods to allow domestic producers to replace them, despite their higher production costs.
In short: tariffs are a perfect way to create inflation and depress domestic demand—of course, assuming wages don’t rise.
I never would have believed that someone, on this planet, might decide to repeat the failed policies of the European Union, hoping they’ll suddenly work.
How President Trump plans to avoid a wage-price spiral while also persuading the Fed not to raise interest rates remains a mystery to me. I suspect it’s a mystery to him as well—or maybe he thinks Americans will suddenly resign themselves to being poorer?
At this point, you might be asking: what should countries hit by the tariffs do?
I believe Western economies should simply integrate more closely with each other, abandon some of the strange superstitions that circulate—especially in Europe—and ignore Trump’s tariffs.
If someone cuts off their own hand, you don’t need to respond by cutting off your arm.
God never ordered anyone to be stupid
March 24, 2025
The Poverty of Historicism
In 1944, The Poverty of Historicism by Karl Popper was published for the first time. I believe it’s a book we still need today—almost as much as Zombies of Marx 🙂 (available on Amazon: https://amzn.eu/d/fyp14Im).
Popper’s lesson has yet to be fully understood, especially in Central Europe. The idea that it is possible to identify an ultimate purpose or direction to history is not only deeply demeaning to human freedom—it is also simply wrong.
History, even when it has seemed doomed to repeat itself, has always been shaped by humanity’s ability to change course and adapt to new circumstances.
That ability has done far more to shape the world than any speculative “laws” underpinning social determinism. Churchill’s resolve, for example, stopped the rise of Nazism, which had appeared unstoppable.
Defenders of historicism insist that the future is entirely predetermined, and that human will can do little or nothing to alter its course. In my view, this mindset conceals an obsession with control—which is itself a fear of change—and results in a refusal to take responsibility for one’s destiny.
It is also a narcissistic posture, hiding the deep anger of those who feel powerless and retreat into a prophetic delusion.
Societies obsessed with historicism are often paralyzed, unable to react. They torment themselves in search of past solutions to present problems.
I believe historicism is the clearest betrayal of the Enlightenment legacy: it erases human self-confidence and abandons individuals to a state of dependency—an eternal infancy.
Popper’s lesson has yet to be fully understood, especially in Central Europe. The idea that it is possible to identify an ultimate purpose or direction to history is not only deeply demeaning to human freedom—it is also simply wrong.
History, even when it has seemed doomed to repeat itself, has always been shaped by humanity’s ability to change course and adapt to new circumstances.
That ability has done far more to shape the world than any speculative “laws” underpinning social determinism. Churchill’s resolve, for example, stopped the rise of Nazism, which had appeared unstoppable.
Defenders of historicism insist that the future is entirely predetermined, and that human will can do little or nothing to alter its course. In my view, this mindset conceals an obsession with control—which is itself a fear of change—and results in a refusal to take responsibility for one’s destiny.
It is also a narcissistic posture, hiding the deep anger of those who feel powerless and retreat into a prophetic delusion.
Societies obsessed with historicism are often paralyzed, unable to react. They torment themselves in search of past solutions to present problems.
I believe historicism is the clearest betrayal of the Enlightenment legacy: it erases human self-confidence and abandons individuals to a state of dependency—an eternal infancy.
