Land of Enough: soil and intergenerational justice. In conversation with Alberto Pirni

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The taxi glides across the Lagoon, en route to Marco Polo Airport. It’s a balmy spring day, devoid of any cloud cover. Venice is now behind us, while the scattered islands surround us, seemingly inhaling the briny essence of the water. The setting is perfect, with only the hum of the boat’s passage and the sporadic cries of seagulls breaking the silence. Yet, every so often, like unexpected atolls, strips of land emerge. The taxi driver speaks to me of the canals, dug to facilitate navigation and deepen the water. I thus realize that the Lagoon is made more by the soil, both submerged and emerged, than by its waters. I am acutely reminded, in an almost physical way, that this ecosystem – which, when traversed through the opulent lens of capitalist tourism, appears mystical and unparalleled – is inherently fragile, susceptible to both droughts and tidal forces. The climate crisis, the encroaching rise of sea levels, or the parched desolation in certain regions weigh on my mind. Seated comfortably in a Riva motorboat, I find myself right in the middle of one of the numerous environmental crises that imperil our existence on this earth, and it is as if nothing happens. There was a time when the fortunate ones proudly bequeathed to their children: «One day all of this will be yours». Today, such an assurance seems increasingly implausible, as last generations have wrought havoc upon the planet, leaving a dire legacy for those who follow.

«Alberto Pirni is an associate professor of Moral Philosophy at the Sant’Anna School for Advanced Studies in Pisa. His academic portfolio includes courses in Public Ethics, Ethics of Care Relations, Ethics and Economics, Ethics of Security and Intergenerational Justice. He assumes the role of coordinator within the Research Area in Public Ethics at the Institute of Law, Politics, and Development of the Sant’Anna School for Advanced Studies».

This concise biography, extracted from the University’s website, paints the portrait of Alberto Pirni, an expert whose areas of competence encompass intergenerational justice, «an issue that has recently gained prominence within the broader debate on distributive and social justice» as he himself wrote, together with Fausto Corvino, in an essay that sought to define the theoretical underpinnings of this discipline. It was in pursuit of his insights that I embarked on this conversation, hoping to unearth answers to both personal and global dilemmas, to see if there still can be room for rules to change things (to change the future, I kept on telling in my sci-fi reader’s head). For this very soil on which we presently dwell, this thin canvas of human potential, still holds the promise of a brighter future, one that can extend its radiance to our children and their tomorrows, and so on.

Pirni proves himself available and remarkably precise, even amidst the challenges posed by the wobbly Zoom connection. And when I ask him for a definition of intergenerational justice he starts from afar, on a journey beginning from the Western concept of justice, harkening back to Plato’s Republic, Book I. «We should remember that justice for the ancients, for the moderns, for the contemporaries has always been conceived as a device of reciprocity, something in the making and active to return something to an individual who has suffered a loss, or from whom something has been taken, to rectify a wrong, or to engage in the equitable distribution of goods – or, in the modern context, even of services. What characterized all these theories was their inclination towards a horizontal model of restitution and distribution. It was a system where something was allocated or returned to individuals who were already there. Justice is here conceived with a logic of horizontal restoration and distribution. What is new about intergenerational justice? It is its shift towards a vertical and diachronic form of distribution and reciprocity. Justice in the West, the justice of the ancients, of the moderns, of the contemporaries up until the American philosopher John Rawls (who died in 2002, to give an idea of the time span, Ed.’s Note) – whom moreover we owe the start of the debate on intergenerational justice to – adhered to a horizontal framework of justice, a coming to an agreement: just think of the traditions of contractualism and agreements between rational actors, or even between those who aspired to break free from the “homo homini lupus” paradigm. It is the logic of contractualism, a pact s truck between those who are present here and now. Intergenerational justice opens a new chapter: let’s stipulate a contract not only among those who are here and now, but also among those who are not yet here and not yet now, that is, between those who are not yet a functioning subject among us. How can we think that future generations, future subjects, future stakeholders shall be legal actors? The very idea of intergenerational justice starts right from this general, but terribly demanding and challenging, outline».

Crafting a code for someone who is not here. Not even Kafka, who penned definitive pages exploring the concept of Justice with an ominous capital J, ventured into this terrain. «This is the game in progress. And it is being played – or rather, it must be played – on multiple fronts. First of all, we are entering a terrain in which little is written and much is to be written, the best cultural terrain for philosophical reflection, theoretical exploration, and speculative inquiry».

«So, let’s start by saying – Pirni proceeds – that at least two or three fundamental principles emerge, beckoning for clarification. The first one revolves around the idea of ensuring availability. It necessitates that we conceive a future where those who succeed us have access to, at the very least, the same amount of goods that our generation, during our time, has enjoyed and has been able to cultivate. The second principle delves into the concept of converting our actions into a form of waiver to the present, considering how to manage the present while being mindful not to exhaust all resources or to leave nothing for those who will come after us, even when they possess the means. Additionally, there is the need to create another level of goods: it is not sufficient merely to abstain from depleting existing resources; we must actively create a not-yet-existing with the intent of making it accessible to future generations. In summary, we must strive to maintain the levels of existing reservoirs, while also envisioning novel reservoirs and fresh resources that can and should be incorporated into those existing. From this standpoint, the game is exceedingly open-ended. It necessitates renewed dialogues, between new Norths and new Souths of the world, that is, between fresh interpretations of the concepts of the North and South of the earth. These are nothing but chapters within a prospective essay on the theory of international intergenerational justice, each chapter teeming with the vitality of an ongoing discourse in which we endeavor to actively partake. In short, to have our say».

At this juncture we have to delve into the climate crisis, an issue that, following the digital revolution, has emerged as the most prominent “fact” of our age, the hyperobject of our era, in the words of another philosopher of the present the likes of Timothy Morton. «This, to me, represents the paramount, the most significant framework of applying the theoretical plexus I was just referring to. How does it intersect with climate? Climate is a fundamental point, because within it there are so many profiles to be considered. The initial and glaring facets, of course, and not as of today, are those that scientists, atmospheric physicists, geologists, astronomers, meteorologists have put before us. A compendium of scientifically undeniable data leaves us with a distinct impression that the situation is leaning in a specific direction. But there are several ethical-social aspects yet to be put to a common factor, underpinned by appropriate measures encompassing both regulatory, i.e. political, realms that can be translated into legal constraints». «Ethics, however, assumes a pivotal role from this perspective, because when we look at the world as a whole, we are faced with one part of it responsible of having produced what we now call climate change, aligned with the very segment that is experiencing its relatively minor consequences. In other words, a portion of the world has cultivated its way of life, its social systems, and, indeed, its legal systems in a notably ambitious manner, pursuing economic models and policies devoted to the consumption of substantial resources. Conversely, another segment of the world has significantly lagged behind in this developmental trajectory and is currently bearing the brunt of the climate crisis». «Consider the plight of small islands that are gradually sinking, compelled to confront ceaseless tsunamis, extreme climatic events, or territories rendered entirely arid, incapable of supporting any kind of agricultural crops or animal husbandry. These territories are home to tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, or even a few million people. When viewed through a diachronic lens, over the next ten to fifteen years, they will inevitably face the necessity of migration, searching for refuge in other parts of the world where they can live and foster a coexistence comparable to what they once enjoyed – or, naturally, to our own one. Those who endure the most profound repercussions of the climate crisis are those who did not engender it over the centuries and are currently suffering the first and foremost significant consequences in terms of the exploitation of territorial, environmental, and even agricultural resources, in all their myriad forms and species».

Pirni’s words resonate with clarity, steeped in academic rigor. Yet, they signify potent concepts, constituting an indictment, an acknowledgment of the manner in which we have structured the very conditions that have led me – I realise it as I watch from my laptop screen, standing surrounded by thousands of books and intellectual cuirasses disseminated in my living room – to be here, now, in this way. Me, and not others. Or rather: me as millions and millions of others. Once more, the spectre of Kafka – in whose tales, guilt is never in doubt – returns to loom over me. «From this juncture an option, an ethical option arises, dealing with fundamental elements, namely the need to prepare ourselves for an ecological transition that extends beyond the simple act of holding hands and walking a few extra hours, or using a bicycle instead of a motorbike, or opting for an electric car in lieu of a fossil fuel-powered one. Above all, we need to comprehend how to redistribute resources, giving rise to what is called energy justice: a continuous energy supply, for instance, to countries that presently lack access, conceiving the ecological transition not merely as a jaunt going from certain habits to some better ones; it should also be regarded as a chance of waiver. From this standpoint, intergenerational justice, justice between generations, must be able to make this new spectrum of issues approachable and to acquaint those who must relinquish something with the idea and the need of a renewed form of reciprocity, also and above all between different areas of our earth».

To relinquish, that’s right, to moderate. One day, a great Italian banker told me we should draw the line at enough profit. Now Pirni tells me something similar, at the level of soil and resource consumption. However, the crux of the matter hinges on who gets to quantify this elusive “enough”. That seems to me the real issue. This pivotal aspect could very well be, at some point, the defining or denying factor in shaping the scope of action – hence, to use an ugly word, of “power”.
«The ideas might be here, indeed they are, and it must also be said that our country has often been in the vanguard for their production, for knowing how to launch them, how to be good or innovative in imagining the future from diverse angles. The challenge doesn’t merely revolve around cultivating the notion of savings or non-consumption concerning what we currently possess, but it extends to imagining alternatives beyond what we lack. In addressing the concept of Enough, actually, in order to put this at ease – even if it may seem a cheap or partisan joke for the philosophers – I would say that perhaps we should go back to the classics and, alongside reading Plato, we should delve into Book V of Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, a seminal text that delineates the Theory of Equity, which makes a further step with respect to the profiles mentioned earlier. How can one be equitable? Aristotle says that equity is the perfecting of justice. But then, how can one be more perfect than justice? If one’s justice is already balancing – you have been wronged, it is returned to you; you have great merit, it is recognized – what could be more perfect than that? Well, in my opinion, and this is how I have tried to portray it, the idea of equity is that of a great theoretical machine for dismantling what I call intergenerational indifference».
«But let’s still stick with Enough: let’s imagine that equity is something with respect to which I would have a legal entitlement. That is: let’s imagine that we, together with our children, are all around a table, we have an excellent cake and we start dividing the slices. Probably, being two adults, you and I would be entitled to an extra slice, maybe a bigger one. And yet we decide that even though we are entitled to it, we forego. Despite having that extra chance of development, we renounce. Even though we have that possibility of further gain, we give up. Why? Because, in giving it up, we are making those resources, those goods, those chances of gain and development available for someone else. We are giving up space to give it to someone else, but we are not losing anything, because you and I were already satiated with one slice of cake. We would have been entitled to two, but that would not have given us an additional sense of satiety. There is no profile of further satiety that can give us greater satisfaction, only a sense of over-fullness that is overabundance of the useless, that beyond-Enough that we can no longer afford. Rereading Aristotle then – but perhaps also the medievals, and perhaps the contemporaries too».

Yet, the pivotal question that arises in me as I contemplate Pirni’s clear reasoning delves more into the primal, darker dimension of human nature. Why should I care about others when I already possess everything I need, and why should I relinquish something for the benefit of individuals who have not yet even come into existence? «I’ve traversed through an argument against intergenerational indifference. How does this device work? It is rooted in the perception of indifference as generally devoid of positive qualities. While the psychological and moral facets that drive indifference are much more complex, there is also a good indifference, which is the one giving rise to human subjectivity. I am indifferent to those around me, largely because this indifference is a prerequisite for shaping my personal identity, comprehending who am I, and who I aspire to become. This form of indifference, which is an intrinsic part of self-discovery, is not the target of criticism, but rather it is the one manifested as a steadfast neglect of the needs of others, a phenomenon brimming with moral implications. One thing is if you are indifferent towards someone who rings your doorbell tonight asking you for help; but the issue, when indifference is discharged intergenerationally, engenders a massive possibility of moral discounting. Who might harbor a sense of culpability for failing to assist someone they neither know nor will ever? I experience guilt if I decline to aid the individuals who seek help as they enter this threshold at this very moment. Yet, how can I bear a sense of guilt for neglecting to aid the person who will cross this threshold asking for help from someone who will be here in two decades?».
«Perhaps we should reassess from this standpoint – and it would be good if, for instance, the banking system also embarked on this journey – the very idea of a banking institution originating from bond law. It is called institution of solidarity. The notion to entertain is that this institution carries forth a bond law wherein I, you or another party decide to buy something, and in doing so, not only we shoulder a portion of the cost, but each of us undertakes the commitment to pay even if someone among us can no longer afford it, thus entering into a solidarity that essentially equates to economic solidity: we are solid enough to be able to absorb the non-payer. Now, on an intergenerational scale, let’s envision how to ensure this solidarity for those who are not yet here. Primarily, by leaving as little debt as we can – because we are aware that they will have to pay it for us. We are, therefore, accountable for their payment, avoiding overspending on our part. This model works for the younger generations, but it is equally applicable to the silver economy, that of the silver generations, those who are progressing toward a more advanced age and transitioning away from the most productive phase of life. Nevertheless, this should not lead us to deviate from a framework of inter- and trans generational reciprocity. In essence, intergenerationality extends not only to future generations but also to those alongside and behind us, viewed through the lens of generativity».

Now I can discern, with a certain curiosity, that we are clearly talking about moral philosophy. «Perhaps we need to give greater prominence to this intricate word, morale, a term oftentimes mishandled and misconstrued. Much rhetoric has been lavished upon morale, yet avenues exist for reinstating it at the heart of the discourse, untethered from slogans about family/non-family. I think it is crucial to go back to the origins of those who thought of philosophy as an undertaking for the polis. Plato, in particular, envisioned philosophy as for the city, thinking of it exactly as politics – remembering that the etymological root of politics is indeed “polis”, city, i.e. the co-extension of what was the legal space of that era. That epoch represents a germinative moment wherein we can find in a fertile crucible both morale, politics, and the germinal concept of justice».
«And now, from this perspective, what can we find? I believe we can find a trove of renewed prospects to reposition morale at the forefront. I teach Moral Philosophy. And the first thing I say to my students when I enter the classroom is: “Ladies and gentlemen, we convene here to talk about moral philosophy, but I don’t think that moral philosophy will help us to become good girls and good boys. We are not interested in doing goodism à la carte or in the form of pamphlets that we disseminate, bind, and then relegate to our most cherished bookshelves, their content left dormant upon completion. No, moral philosophy serves the loftier purpose of honing our capacity for cogent argumentation – that is, to do something steeped in the annals of antiquity, yet tremendously contemporary and at every instance problematic: it furnishes us with the tools for articulating rationales and motivations underlying our actions, our doing or our avoidance of doing”».
«Consequently, moral philosophy can be reasserted at the epicenter by giving it back the space it always had in antiquity: that of the public discourse, i.e. open to everyone and available to confront every opinion while adhering to an overarching tenet: we have the duty to be authentic and honest arguers. A deficiency in this regard engenders poor argumentation. If I am right, you must be able to tell me so; if you are right, I must be able to agree that you have given me a better reason than mine. If, after an argumentation, we leave each other saying “This is your opinion, I have another one”, but you have not been able to prove its merits to me, well, you are a bad arguer, because although I have proved to you the validity of mine and the lesser goodness of yours, you have not been able to admit that yours should be abandoned. But we are sons and grandsons of people who have not been able to admit they were wrong. We should start seriously thinking about it, getting familiar with it. A concurrent impediment in dialogue materializes in the juxtaposition of individuals who are either unable to concede their own fallibility or reluctant to abandon their moral comfort zone. We say: “I have always believed in this, this is how it is done here and how it has always been done, why should we change?”. This phenomenon is also palpable in domains such as climate, environment, and sustainability. For example, when the idea of separate waste collection was introduced, questions arise such as: “Why should I venture beyond my comfort zone?”, ‘Why do we have to do it, while the others don’t?”, “If everyone embraced this practice, I too would partake in it”. This phenomenon, termed the principle of individual causal inefficacy in moral philosophy, constitutes a vortex-like q uagmire that gives rise to profiles of inaction, that is the inability to keep our motivation straight and taut with respect to the outcome of sustainability or contribution, even minimal, to change. This constitutes the other facet under examination, what I call the motivational gap, the breakdown of motivational tightness».

 

Nevertheless, no choice or decision is impervious to the perils of tension, no matter whether they are conflicts like rich versus rich or poor versus poor… «The potential conflict between generations, classes or social needs indeed represents an issue, and we have to profoundly think about this match between conflict and potential, in relation to the issue of savings and to regress in terms of natural resource consumption. This quagmire underscores what may be characterized as the cost of sustainability – or the short-circuit of sustainability and accountability. It underscores the peril that resides in the oft-repeated refrain “It’s always someone else’s turn”, what in moral or political philosophy is called the us/them conflict or the me/you conflict. Why should we, the younger generation, be obligated to economize when they, our predecessors, have depleted all they could? Our collective conviction has traditionally held that ethics constitutes a vestige of the past, yet in reality ethics pertains to the future, a notion reinvigorated by the considerations delineated above. This dynamic engenders an intergenerational schism that divides the old from the young, the wealthy from the indigent. One must grapple with the acknowledgment that the ecological transition imposes expenses that have the potential to further segregate, demarcating those who can afford the transition from those who cannot. Those who can afford to switch to Euro 5, Euro 6, Euro 8, or electric vehicles and those who are compelled to stave off the cold by incinerating PET bottles, engendering flames that produce little heat and copious dioxin. This schism perpetually renews itself, not merely between the old and the young, or the wealthy and the indigent, but infiltrating the intra-generational strata itself – dividing the rich young from the poor young, the prosperous elderly from their destitute counterparts, a dual conflict exacerbated by geographical disparities, between some North and some South of the earth». «I posit that the crux of the matter, then, does not reside in waiting for everybody to do their part, but rather in everyone to do its own. The trajectory should eschew expectations of reciprocal actions and, instead, ought to herald a clarion call: “If I can, I must”. While others may follow, one should abstain from waiting for the others to eventually tread the same path. This juncture beckons a fervent consideration of individual responsibility, a facet that I firmly believe warrants further incorporation into the scaffolding of public discourse».

«Forse dovremmo riprendere da questo punto di vista – e sarebbe bello che lo facesse, per esempio, anche il sistema bancario – l’idea stessa di un istituto bancario che nasce dal diritto delle obbligazioni. Si chiama istituto del solidario. Il tentativo di pensare che quell’istituto portava avanti anche un diritto dell’obbligazione per cui io, lei o qualcun altro decidiamo di comprare qualcosa, ma nel farlo non solo ci accolliamo una parte del costo, ma ciascuno di noi si prende l’impegno di pagare anche se qualcun altro tra di noi non ne avesse più la possibilità, entrando così in una solidarietà che è, in realtà, solidità economica: noi siamo solidi abbastanza per poter assorbire il non pagante. Ora immaginiamo, a livello intergenerazionale, in che modo garantire questa solidarietà verso chi non è ancora qui. Innanzitutto lasciando meno debiti che possiamo – perché sappiamo che saranno loro a doverli pagare per noi. Siamo dunque responsabilizzati nel pagare per loro, evitando per noi la possibilità di spendere oltre misura. Ciò funziona per le giovani generazioni ma anche per la silver economy, quella delle silver generations, coloro i quali stanno andando verso un’età più avanzata e fuoriescono dalla parte di vita produttivamente più rilevante; non per questo dobbiamo uscire da una logica di reciprocità inter- e trans-generazionale. Insomma, l’intergenerazionalità non si misura soltanto verso le generazioni future, ma anche verso quelle che stanno accanto e dietro di noi, dal punto di vista della generatività».

I have the feeling that professor Pirni is trying to construct the blueprint for a virtuous cycle, an ethical mechanism poised to dismantle a system that, for too long, has been proceeding on a sort of autopilot towards a prospect we can only, ultimately define, as self-destruction. «We must not stop talking, but above all we must not think that we can only talk to the “believers”, to those already in the churches of sustainability, only to those who think that this game is worth playing and “only” need to be strengthened in their motivation. We must go and speak outside the churches, with the aim not of evangelizing (for that constitutes another match), but of disseminating this message to those who, by their own volition, might otherwise not contemplate it as a viable option. It’s a compelling challenge that, I hope, philosophy will be able to interpret, however not in solitude. The meta-conviction we must have is that nobody can do it alone. None can envision embarking on this journey without the others».

The taxi arrived. I sat in the plane and waited for take-off. From above, the Lagoon seems even more alive. It unveils all its complexity and intricacy. I would like my children to see it and live it like this too – land both emerged and submerged, yet still alive – in one of our futures we have been writing since yesterday.