2050

The population and household projections produced by ISTAT in the report Italy 2050: challenges and perspectives of a society in transition tell us that in a few years we will be far fewer (4 million people will say goodbye to the world without being replaced by anyone), a bit older (one out of three people will be over 65), and much more alone (40% of us will live completely by ourselves—hopefully in a nice little house). The number of couples without children will become equal to that of couples with children, while the tragic projections for 2080 still have such a margin of uncertainty in terms of birth rates and migration flows that one can hope something better might happen.

We will be different people in a profoundly different country, and to notice it one need only take a walk through the beautiful villages and small towns around our cities.

Although there are virtuous examples of communities coming back to life, almost everywhere one walks among buildings and houses with bricked-up doors that let neither light nor people through, “for sale” and “for rent” signs hanging on every corner, and just a few white-haired souls dragging themselves with a cane along empty, silent streets. In the town center, by contrast, funeral posters are displayed and updated rapidly, and the arrival of a stork is celebrated as if someone had won the lottery.

This summer, for the patron saint’s feast in Lecce, the welfare councillor of the largest city in Salento made a public appeal to find 24 young people with strong backs and powerful arms to carry the statues of Oronzo, Giusto and Fortunato on their shoulders—eight strong men per saint—because the historic group of carriers must face the reality of the years that sadly pass for everyone. Will there still be one day someone strong enough to carry the statue of the saint, and someone devout enough to stop and adore it? Elsewhere there are parts of the city full of colored faces; it hardly feels like Italy anymore, everyone speaks a different language and it seems difficult to understand one another—but doesn’t the same thing happen with our own children?

We feel a little cringe in a world that changes so fast. We remain still, always the same, while everything around us changes meaning, purpose and direction. We do not know what state we will be in tomorrow morning when facing things that will last forever and always, in these days when everything begins anew and continues, with the small hope of being new, different, better—and the sad feeling that everything will be the same as before. Forgetting that someone told us to trust, to ask, to seek, to knock. And things—everything—can happen, as long as we don’t stop asking, seeking, knocking. We just have to stay close to that small hope, not lose contact with that desire we have to change things even just a little.

We do not know how much longer we will have a country to return to for the holidays, but since we cannot fully control what the world will be like in 2050, we can begin by focusing on ourselves. After one single day we already feel we can’t take it anymore, but the beauty of this time in which things start again from scratch is that we can all find the courage to make it, to believe in a life that—amid a thousand messes and a thousand disasters, hidden in the folds of destiny—has at least one day of glory in store for each of us. Now that every team can dream of winning the cup, every lonely heart can hope to find little friendly hearts beating to the same rhythm of happiness, every morning we can at least wake up in a house and go out into places where we can try to be—even just a bit—new, different, better.

Marco Grossetti
NP August/September 2025