Italian
The word “LOVE,” written in capital letters on the field of the New York stadium during the World Cup final, is the perfect snapshot of our time. A total spectacle: choreographies of children, global superstars, blinding lights, and a universal rhetoric that moves the masses. Then, the final whistle. The curtain falls, the magic dissolves, and on the field remain shoves, insults, and a brawl among the players. Universal love gives way, in a matter of seconds, to the ferocity of economic interests and the frustration of defeat.
This jarring contrast raises an uncomfortable truth: human beings have developed an extraordinary ability to say one thing, think another, and act in the opposite way. In fact, it almost seems to follow a rule of inverse proportionality: the more an emotion is displayed outwardly with force and spectacle, the less it is felt and nurtured internally.
This phenomenon concerns not only expressions of joy or brotherhood but also touches on the deeper bonds of sorrow. In the past, the signs of mourning were codified and strict: women’s black clothing, the veil, the dark button or armband for men. It was a social code that demanded respect and communal sharing for a lasting grief.
Today the perspective has shifted. Pain has become a stage content, often conveyed through the media or social platforms to gather distracted empathy. But the audience’s reaction, inevitably, swings between indifference and misunderstanding. True mourning – the kind that digs deep inside – does not need the spotlight; it is, by its nature, indelible, dignified, and silent. The jealous guarding of one’s own pain is the only way to shield it from the banalization of media consumption.
The heart of the problem lies in the anthropological confusion between two well-distinguished concepts: emotion and feeling. Emotions are brief, intense, ephemeral, and volatile psychophysical reactions. They ignite with a click and are quickly forgotten, just like the word “LOVE” on a soccer field. Feelings, on the other hand, are deep structures of consciousness. They do not cease with changing circumstances; they require care, time, and silence to root themselves in the intimate.
When society replaces feelings with emotions, the risk is the inversion of values: a game (like a soccer match) becomes a serious and even violent matter of state, while real life and its dramas are experienced superficially, anesthetized, and uselessly.
The contemporary world moves on this ambiguous ridge. As long as we confuse the greatness of a word written on a playing field with the reality of our daily actions, we will remain spectators of a gigantic staging, unable to truly live both the small and the great things that afflict us and bring us joy.
