The truth is child's play. Then it becomes a sophistry, a complication, an obstacle to the logic of doing, to live together.
I was small and arrogant - and I was always asking, believing that the truth would be full of it.
School, curiously, was then a generous supplier of conspiracies and conspiracy and suggested answers as either a vicious anarchist. It began with the shape of the earth. We were told that it was round, even in the form of orange, and the worst teachers they had to offer best evidence that the shape of the globe. Many
not interested in the topic, and one could understand them - given that the window you could see the school yard, and it seemed clear that the power relations and the pursuit of happiness would consumati laggiù.
E il cortile, checché ne potesse dire la maestra, era drammaticamente piatto - e di cemento pure, con buona pace delle nostre ginocchia. Per motivi che mi sono gran parte rimasti ignoti, il fatto della non evidente rotondità del mondo sembrava comunque un punto da risolvere per tutta la classe docente, che pareva preoccupata di mandarci fuori da quelle mura con un'errata convinzione circa la forma del pianeta.
Il primo passo della demistificazione consisteva inevitabilmente nella ridicolizzazione dell'ipotesi concorrente - vale a dire quella del mondo piatto, che godeva di ottima fama, vuoi perché intorno tutto sembrava confermarla vuoi perché vivevamo nella pianura padana.
Per questo la teoria del mondo piatto was attributed to an unspecified Middle Ages, an era described as vulgar pretty much a constant smell of urine in the streets. The idea of \u200b\u200ba world monetoiforme with large waterfalls on its borders and a hidden face unspecified malriuscito was presented as the nightmare of the dark ages and smelly, years in which people believe in bullshit like heaven, hell and the holy books (ie the arguments of the time immediately following the religion of science).
The journey to the deep conviction on the actual status of the ball then passed through to domestic argument (imagine it like an orange a bit 'squashed - and everyone wanted to ask but crushed by whom? , but avoided to not afflict the teacher, whose frustrations were evident even to a child of six years) or empirical ( you have in mind when you see the distant horizon and you can see him bend? , but many of us had seen only the horizon between a condominium and the other - and still did not seem particularly convincing argument).
happened that the more involved you actually gave to do in round imagine and wonder what was then the other side of this blessed orange. The answer was New Zealand - and was so rapid as to suggest that New Zealand had been put there by the class teacher in the ocean just to have something with which to silence our suspicions.
One day I came to ask if anyone had ever dug up in Milan to emerge in New Zealand. Of course not, they told me how to respond to the naive and dreamers.
But my question was very specific: if you really ball it was, because nobody had ever thought to move from side to side, how come no one worried about the center of the orange, which by analogy should be much more interesting skin?
But it was only the beginning of the unexplained passion of our teachers for the truth less obvious and the first (and second) sight less useful.
Then came a new fact difficult pill to swallow: round the earth in turned over as well (and with a certain affectation) and the sun, we saw pass above the windows, but was still helplessly. But even in this case, the evidence in support of new unsuspected truth were few and weak. And remain so today, twenty years later, the sun rotates and how, as the land is still a construction site of Patras. There is no business or daily practice that takes into account rotations and revolutions, our lives are consumed on a world still and flat - and you have the distinct impression that, beyond all the crazy adventures of the solar system more fuck anything to anyone.
So why this responsibility unclean, because denying us the evidence di un'esistenza ancorata al suolo, di un sole che va e viene? Perché dovevamo sapere?
Forse perché è meglio conoscerla - la verità - e scoprire che non serve a niente, per entrare veramente in armonia col mondo che ci è stato dato. Una sorta di lenta e inarrestabile delusione che ti porti inconsciamente a credere vero solo ciò che che serve - e a sapere vero ciò che comunque non potrai mai toccare.
In sospetta concomitanza con queste prime amare batoste teoretiche, si consumava un altro centrale disvelamento: nell'uggia di un fine novembre, mi capitò di entrare in camera di mia madre e dietro la porta trovare impilati con largo anticipo i regali di natale, che al tempo credevo ancora somehow related to the fat of the chimneys. The first thought that I did not touched on the question of the existence of Santa Claus: I thought rather that, knowing my mother, it seemed obvious that he had not wanted to put in the hands of a man - the species and genus of which little trust - as a central event the distribution of gifts to his two sons. I came also to postulate that the Sami to take into account only those families with fireplaces in the house. But when my mother returned, I remained silent. Only when a month later gave us gifts, my eyes betray the truth that it was the solitude of our substantial family - away from the routes of the slides and also from the table of relatives. My mother knew - and then continue gifts to us as if there was something above us, as if the world was flat and still is.
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