In the center of Berlin I found a long, smoky line of cars. Blowing smoke from their noses, drivers whistled, whistled, but also on their heads, if they stopped, they wouldn’t move. In the middle of the street, sitting blocking the road, hands glued to the pavement (literally glued, with glue), a group of “Last Generation” activists protested. They protested against apparently terrible things: air, land and water pollution; excess consumption that has turned us into fast and tireless garbage-producing machines. These young people are protesting, risking their lives, because it is a matter of life or death. They called themselves “The Last Generation” because it’s now or never, they warn, this world is going to hell, they repeat, wake up people, wake up! They throw tomatoes and puree at the beautiful historical paintings in the museums that are the pride of our civilization. I cry tears of anger and misunderstanding. They allow themselves to be arrested, they are not afraid to scandalize: they are fed up with the way things are done and they say so, and to avoid being ignored as we usually ignore moderate and wise voices, to force the world to listen to them they resort to what they do not ceases to arouse the curiosity of the masses, to capture the attention of the media: extremism.

In a beautiful historic shopping arcade in the center of Leipzig, I noticed that a huge Christmas tree made of twinkling red bulbs was buried under a layer of eerie orange paint. “Last Generation” did its thing, “it destroyed something so beautiful, a minimum of happiness in this world full of evil”, stated the angry intern. Activists, while the police were taking them away, explained that the forests and oceans are a really beautiful world, all these wonders that we are destroying with our predatory behavior… (the policeman closes the door of the patrol car).

I’ve lived long enough to remember how we welcomed the year 2000, that euphoria with an apocalyptic flavor. Now I feel that every end of the year we come with the same feeling, as if we live on the edge of the end, on the edge of madness, chained to the torture rack where some scream apocalypse and preach idealistic and sacrificial lifestyles, while others refocus on the endless pleasures of this world where everything seems to be within reach of the rich. And there are already too many circumstances and geography where we kill each other. I wonder why it is so difficult for us to listen to each other without shouting, armed attacks, extremism and fanaticism. Why do we wait for things to explode and create trenches, and only start dealing with conflicts when so many knots have already been tied that it seems the only way to untie them is to nip them in the bud. And yet, subtlety, sensitivity, the wisdom to anticipate possibilities, these are the spaces where hope is hidden. For 2024, in which we conquer it, minimal spaces, the serenity of being in the world and loving it, the harmony of existence and not possessions, the peace of playing instead of judging. (OR)