Hey all, I’ll cut straight to the chase.

I am now fully aware of what is happening in Europe, how certain politicians and wealthy individuals are actively trying to interfere with politics in a way so that they can essential get away with tax evasion, while also distracting people with xenophobia.

I now have a few questions:

1) What is their end goal?

2) Why is it that they have so much money to support them for multiple lifetimes, yet they want even more money, even when it comes at the cost of the wellbeing of the middle and working class?

3) Is there anything that anyone can do to help combat this?

Thank you for reading this, I know the future may seem tough, but I’m willing to fight for a unified Europe, and I hope you can too!

Have a lovely day everyone!

Not sure where to post it, soo...

I had an idea that maybe a parallel tax residency could be created, so that you could either pay taxes to the country you live in or to the European budget. Maybe the choice could have some conditions (either have a different citizenship then the country you're in or some kind of limits, dunno TBH), because I assume countries wouldn't want to risk significantly reduced budgets.

Anyway I guess it could help if you'd like to migrate to a different country in EU, or live in two or more countries. Just dealing with different tax systems when thinking about it gives me a headache (especially the wealth taxes and needing to submit information about your wealth if you plan to live in a given country for a few years).

Thanks to the Military of Ukraine, who stand on the defence of the independence of the state of Ukraine, who protect and defend everyone at the cost of life, at the cost of health! They are Ukrainians, strong, independent and they will stand and win! Happy Independence Day!

Ask Armenia and Iran for that.

I hope this post doesn’t come across as too strange!

Those who remember my previous posts will have noticed that I usually alternate between enormous walls of text in which I invoke the necessity of European patriotism, and other illegally long essays where I lament that many citizens of Western Europe do not consider the peoples of Eastern Europe with the proper attention.

I know there are different definitions of Eastern Europe: I’ve realized that I usually mean it in a geopolitical sense, as that part of Europe that endured the Soviet yoke.

Now, the reason why I invoke European patriotism is quickly said.

According to Machiavelli, a person is free if they can enjoy their own possessions without suspicion, without doubting the honor of their wives or children, without fearing for themselves. Montesquieu, on the other hand, saw the political liberty of a citizen as that peace of mind which comes from the opinion each one has of their own safety.

Let us recall that Montesquieu—significantly—affirmed that tyranny has fear as its principle, without which it cannot survive. Liberty, conversely, is precisely the presence of this existential security.

Spinoza gave an even more compelling definition: for him, the goal of the State is freedom. The State must free all from fear, so that each may live, as far as possible, in security—so that they may best enjoy their natural right to live and act without harming themselves or others.

Thus, following Spinoza, the State must not turn rational beings into beasts or render them mere automatons, but rather ensure that their minds and bodies may exercise their functions safely, and that they may use free reason, not fighting one another with hatred, anger, or deceit, nor allowing themselves to be swept away by unjust passions.

To protect liberty, one must be wise enough to set aside personal interests, and brave enough to act accordingly.

Let me give an example from a tale by Mickiewicz. We find ourselves in the first city ever founded by humankind. One day, a fire broke out. One citizen looked out the window, saw that the flames were far away, and went back to sleep.

Others stood guard at the threshold of their doors, waiting until the fire reached their own homes so that they could extinguish it then.

It was useless: the fire consumed the houses of those who had done nothing to stop it, while those who had gone back to sleep perished along with their homes.

A few men of courage tried to run to help their neighbors, but sadly they were too few, and the entire city was devastated by fire. Yet these few, together with their neighbors, did not lose heart, and rebuilt a city more beautiful and greater than before.

Those who had refused to help put out the fire, who had waited until the danger struck them directly, were excluded from civic institutions and died of hunger.

A law was then passed, decreeing that in case of fire the citizens must help one another, and that a corps should be established to keep vigil at night and extinguish flames. Thanks to this law, the people lived in safety and peace.

This city, in Mickiewicz’s own words, represents Europe, and the fire symbolizes despotism, the enemy of Europe.

Yet regardless of the original meaning (for nations, too, must be virtuous), the moral is clear: for short-sighted people, true interest (to extinguish the fire) seems to conflict with immediate pleasure (to go back to sleep), and they fail to see that genuine interest (to go on living) requires not yielding to momentary gratification.

Civic virtue simply means being wise enough to see this and brave enough to act accordingly (to put out the fire).

Metaphorically, I see freedom not merely as the ability to take root in an ecosystem and flourish. I say ecosystem deliberately, because Machiavelli too stressed that liberty has a relational character, embracing one’s possessions and affections.

Imagine that someone held arbitrary power over a person we love—a child, a parent, a sibling. If we truly loved them, would we not find ourselves obeying that tyrant out of fear that the loved one might suffer the consequences of our disobedience?

Yet this would mean not being free; and perhaps it would even mean an incomplete form of love. Perhaps we could tolerate being slaves ourselves, but could we truly tolerate that someone we love be enslaved?

Aristotle—who described courage as the proper mean in facing fear, distinct both from recklessness and from cowardice—said that it was a slavish attitude not only to endure being insulted, but also to look away when one’s friends were humiliated.

An excellent person, according to Aristotle, would do much for their friends and for their country, even to the point of dying for them. They would sacrifice wealth, honors, and all the contested goods, reserving for themselves only good deeds.

Between the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, we find refined elaborations of this same principle, affirming that those who serve the common good render themselves similar to God.

Coluccio Salutati, for example, celebrated Christianity as the perfection of Cicero’s civic virtue, holding that Christian love of country is superior to that of the pagans, because the pagans did not know vera caritas ("true love"): born of love for Christ and through Christ, it commands that one love one’s neighbor as oneself.

After all, Christianity is a religion that proclaims there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. To be clear, I am not here to celebrate Christianity uncritically, but simply to interpret patriotism in terms of care and love.

Étienne de La Boétie said that those who fight for liberty do not worry about the pain that lasts for the span of a single battle, but rather about all that they, their children, and their descendants would endure forever if they were to lose.

The point is that the idea of defending those we love can be a source of courage. Many, in short, would be motivated to fight if the alternative were to let someone they care for be forced to live their life oppressed and enslaved to another’s will.

In sum, care and love are intrinsically linked to concern, action, and courage (and courage is necessary to defend liberty). To put it plainly: if someone claimed to care about world hunger but did nothing to fight it, we would have good reason to doubt whether they truly understood what caring means.

Likewise, if someone said they loved flowers but often forgot to water them, we would have good reason to doubt that love.

In the same way, if someone claimed to care about a cause, an individual, or a community, but proved incapable of risking anything for it, we would be entitled to doubt the sincerity of their concern—or else consider them a coward.

The duties tied to liberty may arise from love, and precisely for this reason may allow us to face fear.

Yet here lies the first problem: knowledge (at least to some degree—there are those who say we do not even fully know ourselves, and I agree) is a necessary condition for loving sincerely.

And I fear that the school curricula of Western Europe (at least the ones I’ve been able to look into) do not adequately dwell on the history of Eastern Europe (and I don’t mean only the suffering under Soviet domination).

The heart of patriotism is built upon a narrative structure in which the story moves from the nation’s past to a future yet to be constructed. It tells stories of struggle laden with suffering and hope. But how can we expect European citizens to love Europe if they do not know it—if they do not know how much their brothers and sisters suffered, fought, and hoped?

I have realized that even I—though I wish to deepen my Europeanism—know very little about the history of Eastern Europe. While it is not directly my fault that I wasn’t taught this at school, it would be my fault to notice this lack and do nothing to remedy it, especially if I intend to profess certain ideals.

So, my question is: which texts would you recommend I start with to learn more about the history and culture of Eastern Europe?

I am especially interested in the history of Poland (though I’ve noticed that some Poles prefer to be described as Central rather than Eastern European; my issue is that I’ve found different and contradictory definitions of the two, and I don’t know which to adopt!).

This is partly because I discovered that Giuseppe Mazzini, an Italian patriot remembered in Italy as one of the Four Fathers of the Fatherland and credited with inspiring Italians to love their country, was influenced by Mickiewicz’s vision of Poland as a martyred nation.

Mazzini deeply admired Mickiewicz, and in claiming this role for Italy, offered his fellow countrymen a new perspective. For this reason too, I would love to study Mickiewicz more deeply and be able to contextualize him.

I am generally a very patriotic person with regard to my own country (in the sense described above!), but discovering these interconnections between the histories and stories of different nations—and the fact that the Italian anthem mentions Poland and the Polish anthem mentions Italy, a case that, if I recall correctly, is unique in the world!—makes me profoundly pro-European.

Also, I would truly love to explore the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth!

I even tried downloading an app to learn Polish, though I am generally poor at languages and don’t know how far I’ll get (perhaps I’ll manage to say hello in Polish): the goodwill is there, but not much talent!

Thanks in advance!

The post is entirely my own work, but—since I’m hopeless and insecure with languages—I asked ChatGPT to translate it, and then I double-checked it!