Some conversations are not simple exchanges of opinions. They are autopsies of reality, conducted with the scalpel of the precise question. With Gabriele, it is often like this. We start from an apparently banal point and, in a few exchanges, we find ourselves dissecting the very foundations of our common way of life.
This time the pretext was a popular saying: “Animals are better than people.”
The first instinctive reaction is to read it as an expression of disappointment, an emotional outburst. But Gabriele does not settle for the surface. He pushes deeper: “Do you think there's any truth to it?”. He doesn't ask for a psychological interpretation, but for an assessment of reality. It is here that the ground begins to crumble.
My initial response tries to balance things out, to distinguish between animal spontaneity and human complexity. But Gabriele corrects my aim with a clarification that changes everything: the phrase does not speak of “human beings”, but of “people”. It is a capital distinction. The person is the social mask, the construction, the artifice. The animal, in its instinctive nudity, is perceived as more authentic than a man who is acting a part. The comparison is not between species, but between being and appearing.
From this moment on, the dialogue accelerates towards the heart of the matter. Gabriele exposes his thesis with a lucidity that admits little room for romanticism:
Animals live according to their nature, 90% or more of the world's population does not.
Animals do not act against their own best interest and the interest of their species, man (majority) does.
It is not a matter of moral superiority, but of vital coherence. Man, unique among creatures, has the capacity — and it seems the propensity — to systematically betray his own nature. The engine of this deviation? Deception. Not an incident along the way, but an original and structural mechanism.
Lying is part of man, it is born with man. The origin of deception? The birth of man :)
Deception, therefore, is not a subsequent corruption. It is a primary condition. And from there, everything unfolds: man deceives man to exploit him, building social, relational, and communicative systems that elevate lies to an operating principle. The masses are not simply deceived; they are educated in deception through every channel at their disposal — media, language, habits.
95% of the things people do and believe in are lies. People's lives are a lie.
At this point, the question about "truth" becomes inevitable and urgent. For Gabriele, truth is not a Platonic idea to contemplate. It is a functional tool, a vehicle. Its definition is lapidary and powerful:
Truth for me is everything that puts man in a position to live according to his nature.
Truth is what re-aligns man with himself.
But if the very structure of mass society is built on lies, what space is there for truth? Gabriele's answer is brutally realistic: none, for the majority. The deception is too deep, too ingrained, too all-encompassing. It's an unstoppable vortex.
Imagine an ocean... the water are the people. There's a stopper... if you take it out of the hole, the water starts to swirl voraciously and the closer it gets to the hole, the faster it spins. That's it... that vortex is unstoppable.
Those who are too close to the center of the vortex — those who have completely internalized the lie as reality — are lost. There is no collective salvation. There is, at most, individual selection. The question then changes: not anymore “how to save everyone?”, but “how to recognize and reach those who are still savable?”.
Who is savable? Not the smartest or the kindest, but the one who has retained, despite everything, the ability to recognize the truth. The one who feels a dissonance, a crack, something that doesn't fit into the dominant narrative. The one who intuits that the life that has been offered to them is an operational lie.
And here comes the crucial, practical step: how to speak to these people? No proclamations, sermons or manifestos are needed. Signals are needed. Phrases that do not explain, convince, or console. Phrases that select.
They are incomprehensible or irritating to those immersed in the vortex, but they resonate as a call for those who already have that crack inside.
Gabriele proposes two, exemplary in their selective crudeness:
“Those who believe in God end up in hell.” “You're knee-deep in shit and you don't try to get out because you think it's Nutella.”
These are not opinions for debate. They are blades. They cut off every possibility of comfortable misunderstanding. Either you reject them with disdain, or they force you to stop. And in that stopping, perhaps, begins the recognition.
But saying these truths has a cost. Gabriele knows this well, from direct experience:
I tried, for years, to say it... Through the internet... Do you know what happened? That you are taken for crazy or completely ignored.
Those who speak the profound truth are not listened to. They are isolated. Enemies attack them. Potential allies often limit themselves to a silent like, without exposing themselves. Loneliness is the surest price.
And here comes the closing of the dialogue, perhaps the most human and concrete truth of all. Faced with the prospect of paying that price to the end, Gabriele observes:
If I had nothing to lose and everything to gain, I would do it. But I have three dogs. Who will think of them? :)
In this joke there is the whole difference between abstract heroism and real responsibility. The truth is not spoken for martyrdom or for protagonism.
It is said that it makes sense, and only if it makes sense, to do so without sacrificing what one loves and takes care of. He who has nothing to lose is not a hero: he is already an empty man.
The dialogue closes like this, without triumphant conclusions, but with a clearer awareness. Telling the truth in a mass society is a largely useless act. It will not change the course of the vortex. It will not awaken those who are submerged.
And yet, it is still necessary. Because it is the only way to create that silent bridge towards those who are still able to listen. To not betray oneself. To keep alive, in a world of distorting mirrors, the flame of a possible coherence. Even if its light illuminates only a few meters of darkness.
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