In the beginning was, according to ancient tradition, the word. Because words create the world, I write. And I start with words that want to be a beginning.

I live, as some may know, in Genoa and in Italy, as in many other countries, there is a custom to ring in the new year with a speech from the head of state. At the last New Year's Eve, it was the ninth time that President Sergio Mattarella delivered a New Year's greeting to the Italian people, but this time his speech was different than usual. With gentle but stern authority and the natural gravitas that he derives from the fact that he visibly bears the weight of the responsibility he never wished for himself, he delivered a speech that still resonates in the alleys, lanes, valleys, and plains of the country and that, like the speeches of Pericles, will be a subject of exegesis and admiration for a long time to come.

His speech cannot be viewed in isolation from the context. Since October 22, 2022, Italy has been governed by a right-wing coalition, which includes two xenophobic parties and in which the largest party, represented by Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni, is rooted in neofascism. After Meloni and her government initially surprised many by adopting a surprisingly moderate and constructive stance, especially in her relations with Europe and NATO allies, it became increasingly clear over the past year that the electoral promises have not been forgotten and that the ambition to implement an extreme right and illiberal agenda has not faded under the intense spotlight of power. Immigrants are being criminalized, and families with two fathers or two mothers are made to suffer.

Furthermore, Meloni, following in the footsteps of her friend and role model Viktor Orbán, the Prime Minister of Hungary, has taken concrete steps to silence her political opponents by restricting the press. Critical journalists from the Italian state broadcaster RAI have been dismissed. As a result, RAI's viewership has drastically declined since some of the most popular television personalities were among those dismissed. This was part of a predetermined plan, as this has also dramatically reduced advertising revenue, making RAI entirely dependent on the funds the government provides. A bill has also been introduced that seeks to restrict the freedom of all journalists, including those in print media. At the same time, Prime Minister Meloni is pushing for a constitutional amendment that would increase the powers of the prime minister at the expense of the position of parliament and the head of state.

I know all this because I consider it my duty to be aware of it, and all of this greatly concerns me. But what I may be even more worried about is that I have now lived for over a year in a country governed by an extreme right government with a neofascist prime minister and that I must honestly admit that I hardly notice anything of it. The troubling developments I have just summarized are not topics of conversation in the streets or on the terraces of Genoa. There, people only talk about the two football clubs, and that topic is already depressing enough. To know what is truly going on, you have to make a real effort. The truth must be unearthed from the columns of the rare quality newspapers, and what you read, if you make that effort, are reports and analyses of small steps that each seem to be of little concern and that only chip away at the rule of law a tiny bit, which you only realize if you are willing to think carefully about it. None of these measures personally affect me. The sun shines, the pasta is perfectly al dente, and it is frighteningly easy to ignore that democracy is being slowly but surely dismantled.

This experience frightens me because I can now better imagine how ordinary citizens felt in Europe in the 1930s. I had always assumed that they braced themselves against the inevitable disaster that was in the making, but now I realize that the sun was shining then as well, and that the carbonara in those days might have been even creamier than now. I understand, to my dismay and concern, how easy it is to be lulled to sleep by the slowness of all things and to be sleepwalking into a dictatorship. I realize how easy it is to shrug off small changes that do not personally affect you, until the moment comes when they do affect you and when it is too late to worry about it.

In this context, Mattarella spoke. His speech was a plea for involvement and freedom. Those who hold a public office, he said, at any level, have the duty to guarantee freedom. Freedom must be protected, he said, against those who seek to unlawfully influence public opinion with the instruments of algorithms or political power. "The values of our Constitution form the basis of our society," Mattarella said. "The strength of the Republic lies in unity, which is not the result of imposed power but is a mentality based on shared values of solidarity, freedom, equality, justice, and peace. In this way, the values of our Constitution define our society." His address culminated in a passionate appeal against indifference, which he strengthened with examples of social involvement.

The head of state had the courage to take a stand against the unconstitutional and undemocratic tendencies of his democratically elected government. He was guided by the deeply felt need to shake his fellow countrymen out of their lethargy of indifference and football news and to demand their involvement. It felt as if he was addressing me personally with his plea against resignation and indifference, as if he was urging me to do my best to know what is happening and not to let my concerns melt away under the sun of my dolce vita italiana.

Italy is not the only country in Europe that has fallen victim to democratically legitimized indifference towards democracy and the rule of law. A few months ago, I was in Budapest, and the conversations I had there with Hungarians were steeped in despair because no one could imagine a realistic scenario in which Orbán's autocracy would end. Recently, Orbán helped his soulmate Robert Fico into power in Slovakia. In Finland and Sweden, right-wing populists are in power. In Poland, things seem to be turning, although President Andrzej Duda's power has not yet been broken. In my own Netherlands, Geert Wilders' PVV won the elections in November by a landslide. Negotiations for the formation of an extreme right Dutch government will soon resume.

With his poignant New Year's wish, the President of Italy heralded a year that will be crucial for the future of Europe and the Western world. In countries where more than half of the world's population lives, elections will be held in 2024. This year there will be elections for the European Parliament, as well as elections at all levels in Belgium, national elections in Austria, Croatia, Lithuania, Portugal, and Romania, and presidential elections in Finland and Iceland, to limit ourselves to Europe, after which in November we will face the circus of the possible re-election of Donald Trump as President of the United States. Almost everywhere, voters show a preference for populists who see the democratic rule of law more as a hindrance than as a cherished acquisition. It is not unthinkable that Europe and the democratic West will be unrecognizably changed when we may celebrate New Year's again.

There is a Chinese curse. Those who wish someone something terrible wish for them to live in interesting times. I sincerely regret that the unavoidable conclusion is that 2024 promises to be an interesting year.

My resolution for this new year is to take the President of Italy's call to heart and force myself to engage with these potentially far-reaching changes. I will try to make the experiences in my two homeland countries, the Netherlands and Italy, productive for the interpretation of the impending developments, and I will share my findings, fears, and doubts in this space with readers who, like me, would prefer to ignore that they are witnessing history. I will embark on this exercise from a deep conviction that words matter. If my readers and I could collectively succeed in nurturing a beginning of awareness through words and thus put an end to indifference, much would have been gained. It could be the start of something. Or perhaps it could prevent this year from bringing the onset of a terrifying winter that we only know from ancient tradition.

Ilja Leonard Pfeijffer