Translator: TEDx Milano Translators Reviewer: Muriel de Meo
Hello.
Hi everyone.
It's always difficult to work before going to eat, however.
The lectern is because I can't rely on my
memory because I suffer from a serious form of short memory loss, so ...
The water is because I have pharyngitis
and will probably cough during my talk.
You may say now, why didn't you stay at home?
(Laughter)
In fact I was at home. They came there, "Shit, Giacomo, you're the first!"
“Holy shit!” And I got here now.
(Laughter)
(Applause)
How language was formed
is a mystery that science hasn't managed to explain completely.
Cautiously, one might only stutter
that language is the result
of a shady, lenghty process of transformation
of the biochemical substrate of the central nervous system
and of a complex cultural and social influence.
But if biologically we can say little,
science can instead prove, just as boldly,
what the first word uttered by a human being was:
"Change".
Ever since they came to Earth,
men and women always had something to complain.
They looked around and took on complaining:
the sun could have been a little rounder;
the sea could have been less salty;
summer could last a little longer,
the week could have at least three Sundays.
And so on and so forth.
Nothing was ever fine for them.
One could say, men are born unhappy and with a craving for change.
Change, change, change, change.
And beside being unhappy, men and women have always been picky, too.
Mind you, even the garden of Heaven wasn't good enough for them.
One might say: "Ah, lucky you! You live in paradise!"
"Yes, it's true," he said,
"but we're not the owners."
(Laughter)
"We're just renting."
(Laughter)
"Yes, you're renting, but in paradise, not the outskirts of Milan."
"Yes, but you can't understand.
The owner is such a pain in the neck:
you can't touch that stuff, you can't eat that fruit.
Sorry, you rent me a garden and rather than allowing me to eat
you'd rather have those four rennet apples rotting?
Come on, they seem like the Ligurians
that rent you the house and there's nothing inside!
And they also lock the wardrobe.
The moment my spineless husband gets hired at Apple,
we but this nerdy house with a garden,
and instead of apples we put a nice barbecue, you will see!"
Then you already know the rest of the story.
Apple recruits no more.
(Laughter)
The owner of the garden saw the bar tree and cast them out.
As you can imagine, from there on,
the story of humanity is the story of our unsatisfaction
and the yearning for change.
As the philosopher who loved to ride a bike said,
"It's all wrong, it all has to be redone, it all has to change."
All what?
The dining room, the kitchen, the car, the holiday destination,
the child's school, the child's teachers,
the girlfriends of the sons, the balcony curtains, the handywoman.
Eastern handywomen won't work, you need Pilipinas!
Heck, didn't you know?
The iPhone has to be changed!
The diet, the members of the Board,
the coach on the bench, the striker, the striker's wife.
(Laughter)
Nose, boobs, ass, cheekbones!
(Applause)
Change the wife, or the husband as the case may be.
Ah, how sexy change is.
And it is since my hearing developed that I hear phrases like:
"Either you change, or you’ll be sent to a boarding school!"
It was my mum, unhappy with my marks at school.
"If you don't change your attitude to me, you'll no longer set foot in this house!"
It was my mother who was mad with my dad's mum.
My granny, the mother-in-law.
"If you don't switch channels, you'll not see this face anymore!"
It was mum who was mad with dad
because he always watched Domenica Sportiva.
Me, dad and granny have always been very sensitive to change.
(Laughter)
And at the same time
we have always perceived change as something threatening.
Ever since Amintore Fanfani was Prime Minister, 1959,
I was three years old,
I have heard on television every week politicians' calls for change,
the need and the joint commitment of all parliamentary forces
to implement major reforms.
Everyone calls for change, everyone feels the need for the new.
The planet calls for a turnaround,
eating habits must be changed,
lifestyle has to be changed,
the request rises, the nuisance becomes unbearable.
The slogan is clear:
from fashion to ecology, politics and morality,
from customs to philosophy,
from economics to education, change is needed!
But why?
Why is the world so unhappy?
Why are people unsatisfied with their life?
Because man is always disappointed by his possessions?
Are we romantic existentialists who can't bear the obsolescence of things?
Death grieves us,
and so we try to remove a natural event with a replacement?
Bah.
Anyhow,
if there's one thing that doesn't suffer from existentialism and romanticism,
that's the economy,
Which is rightfully the true science of change.
They realised, if a car was forever,
or a washing machine lasted a century,
where would the dividends be found to give to shareholders?
So, buy another washing machine!
Actually, change the way of doing laundry.
(Laughter)
Renew your spin-dryer, reform your laundry space.
Revolutionise the washing of coloureds.
Scrap that fucking washing machine!
(Laughter)
(Applause)
Scrap, to
Mind you, getting money to make you change.
All the way up to the masterpiece of change: planned obsolescence.
If you don't want to change the washing machine, we'll make you change it.
(Laughter)
Neither does finance suffer from romance.
Even the way of conceiving savings has led us to change.
Once, once upon a time, if you saved you were virtuous.
They taught you that from childhood, in primary school.
They gave you the piggy bank.
Now, if you keep money, it's trouble.
Spend your money, make the economy run, help to raise the consumption index,
otherwise you're an enemy of the nation.
I can imagine it, one day on the news,
the anchorman is all sad, comes out and announces,
"The President of the Republic
has called a day tomorrow of national mourning.
Retail consumption has fallen by 0.3%".
They call us every day to remind us that we must change.
There you are, distracted, the phone rings:
"Unknown number, but maybe it's important".
"Hi there, am I speaking with Mr Giacomino Poretti?"
You get angry and say:
"You must introduce yourself! Who are you? Who am I talking to?"
And you're screwed: "Hi, Giacomino. I'm Marcello from Sghiberz".
"Sghiberz? But what's that?"
"The company that supplies electricity."
"Ah ah ah, but look, I'm with Enel!"
"Mr Giacomino, don't you remember, you changed six months ago."
"But I didn't want to change,
you were a pain in the ass every day and in the end I gave in!"
"Relax, Mr Giacomino,
I'm contacting you to offer you a change in tariff plan."
And tired of phone calls, glossy magazines,
and troops of influencers at their disposal
who have themselves photographed with their favourite toilet paper,
(Laughter)
our image and our habits are also changing.
Clothes are changed once a year, shoes are only made of plastic:
the leather is tiresome, it's unsightly.
I now spend €200 every six months.
You used to change the soles every two years, but now you're cooler,
because you can wear sneakers even with a dinner jacket, if you want.
The football team's shirts are changed at the start of every season.
Of course, Mr Poretti, merchandising wouldn't fly otherwise.
And then you let yourself be convinced and buy the new shirt,
otherwise they'll not buy you Lukaku.
(Laughter)
Wait a minute:
Aren't they selling players only to make you buy new shirts?
(Laughter)
(Applause)
Come on, don't stick with a flag, the world is in a constantchange!
Once they were putting your phone on the wall
and it was there for years, decades.
Now, every six months, the new model comes out
and you stay in the lines at night, outside the shop,
to buy the camera with 24 million pixels,
50 million pixels,
so you can take a selfie with the same moron face!
(Laughter)
(Applause)
One pixel more, one pixel less.
The car is also changed! But it doesn't have to be owned anymore!
Are you crazy?
You take out a long-term lease, so you have a new car every two years.
Cool!
The bike's not there to be bought: rent it at every crossroads if you want!
Beach house? What a loser you are!
Why renting one for a month?
Go on Airbnb, stay two days in Spotorno,
three in the Bahamas, four in New York, seven in London.
Move this damn money, change, change, change!
Only jerks never change opinion.
Holy shit, so I'm a fool then.
I'm really dumb.
You feel all excited when they tell you so,
you feel like you're riding a horse
running wildly towards a wonderful future
made of new sneakers, new washing machines,
phones with seven billion pixels.
I'm afraid, this kind change makes us always stay the same,
Because, come on, let's be honest.
It's not easy to change for real.
I mean, apart from the shoes and the phone,
changing is complicated,
because in the end what is it you want to change?
The things we don't like, that really bother us,
the things that make you feel bad.
Maybe we want to change because deep down we hope -
I don't know, for a miracle to happen, for a U-turn,
we hope that changing direction brings us some happiness.
Because, in theory, we change to improve, don't we?
I, for me,
it took me 35 years to quit smoking.
Since my first day as a smoker, basically.
My friend Lucio,
has been changing diet every week for 20 years now,
trying to lose 15 kilos.
Michael Jackson spent almost 50 years trying to become white.
Death didn't satisfy him.
Now,
now I've set my mind to do ten push-ups a day
and do three flights of stairs, 60 steps when I get home.
It's not easy, though.
After eleven steps, I run out of breath
as if I had run the New York marathon.
And I say to myself, "I'll do the rest tomorrow".
And I take the lift.
But even the easiest things,
like not letting others finish talking and yelling at them,
"You've understood nothing!"
Do you think, that is easy to change?
Or throw the paper and the bottle out of the window.
Do you think it's easy to stop that?
It's really hard to change for real.
Plus, not all changes are equal:
but first and foremost, we change for what?
Perhaps the changes we want most
are those that take place within us, those that transform you,
but we, modern people, iI do feel,
we are amateurs of change.
There are people
who didn't wait government incentives to truly change themselves,
Like that good-for-nothing young lout
that didn't miss a happy hour and a party in Assisi.
The billionaire daddy, the Loro Piana of the time we could say -
then the young lout changes radically.
Drops all the dinner jackets, the shoes and daddy's money
and from that day wears a jute sack.
Foolish.
Crazy, we would say.
After a few months, 5,000 heirs of his same age
are ready to follow him dressed in rags like him.
What did they see, that we fail to see?
And that other moron, yes, rich moron,
never worked an hour in his life, a passion for duels and the sword,
lady-killer.
Even Infanta of Spain was rumored to be one of his lovers.
It's not written about, but it's known.
One day he goes off to war,
saying "I've had enough, I'm bored, I'm going to war",
and a cannonball makes a hole in his leg.
Forced to bed for months,
he spends convalescence reading stories of horses and duels.
The last book he comes across is a story of saints.
From that day he changes radically,
and founds an order which, after six centuries,
will bring a certain Francis to the throne, to the throne of Peter.
What had he read in that book that we can't understand?
And that murderer who became a murderer
for not letting a passerby past on the sidwalk,
and who, after taking the life of his enemy,
changed radically, becoming a friar
and one of the protagonists of The Betrothed.
And then, that unnamed person who first spread terror and death,
and then transforms himself and changes.
"Ah, but this isn't true," you say.
It's just literature.
True, literature.
Good intentions, nothing more.
And so I wrap up reminding you
of that person who was riding, like us probably.
Intoxicated, happy, convinced of his truth,
chasing, imprisoning and killing those who didn't think like him.
One day, maybe chasing after the last person to be executed,
he tragically falls from a horse.
He goes blind - sorry, visually impaired -
for three days, and then he changes radically.
He put himself in the shoes of those he persecuted.
But what happened to him on the horse?
A mind alteration? A stroke?
A drop in blood pressure?
Had he drunk too much?
A hallucination? A crisis of depersonalisation?
A mystical-religious delirium?
What would he have seen or felt while riding the horse
that we can neither see nor feel?
Compared to him, I am an amateur of change.
I could never do what they did.
First because I can't ride a horse.
Then because I've never had the rich father who sold fabrics.
And then war has always frightened me,
always made me shit in the pants, so, even if I wanted to,
no bullet has ever hit me, not even by mistake -
I don't know, a hunter -
to have to stay in bed and read certain books. No.
However, I say this in front of everyone,
motivated by an irrepressible yearning for change,
today I commit myself publicly
to reach at least the twelfth step.
(Applause)