There is a word that runs like a watermark through the entire contemporary debate on development: urgency. This is no longer the time for reassuring analyses or postponed solutions. This is the core message of the article “Territories between global competition and Sustainability: Getting out of the Race to the Bottom Trap,” published in issue 1/2025 of the Review of Studies on Sustainability (Franco Angeli), authored by Vera Sibilio, Gian Paolo Cesaretti, Sawfat H. Shakir Hanna, Irene Paola Borrelli, Kateryna Kononova, and Immacolata Viola. The paper focuses on one of the most critical knots of our time: the conflict — only apparently inevitable — between global competition and sustainability.

There is a moment in the life of territories when something stops working without making noise. Houses don’t collapse, factories don’t stop, people don’t disappear. And yet, slowly, the meaning of things thins out. Cities become interchangeable, economies fragile, landscapes exhausted. It is from this silence that the authors’ work begins: not from a sudden crisis, but from a continuous, systemic, almost normalized erosion.

The article speaks of numbers, models, capital stocks. But beneath the methodological surface there is a precise story: that of a world that chose to run without asking where it was going, and of territories that, in trying to remain competitive, began to lose themselves.

The race that lowers everything

They call it the Race to the Bottom. It is a technical expression, but it sounds like the title of a dystopian novel. A race in which you win by lowering prices, compressing rights, simplifying complexity, externalizing everything that weighs on the system. In this race there is no real finish line, only a continuous lowering of the bar: fewer protections, less quality, less future.

Scientists explain it precisely: production standardization, outsourcing of economic, social and environmental costs, competition based almost exclusively on price. But if you read between the lines, what emerges is an impoverished human landscape. A system that produces increasingly similar goods and increasingly fragile territories, as if diversity were a flaw to be corrected rather than a richness to be protected.

In this race, some territories seem to gain ground for a while. But it is a fragile, temporary advantage. Because while they run, they consume the resources that make the race itself possible.

The capitals that make no noise while being consumed

One of the most powerful aspects of the article is the way it speaks about the four capitals: natural, human, social and economic. They are called “stocks,” analyzed and measured. But in reality, what is being described is something much deeper: the invisible wealth that allows societies to exist.

Natural capital is not just the environment: it is the possibility to breathe, cultivate, inhabit. Human capital is not just skills: it is knowledge, education, the ability to imagine. Social capital is not just networks: it is trust, cohesion, a sense of belonging. Economic capital, finally, is not just wealth: it is stability, investment capacity, vision.

The Race to the Bottom consumes them all, but it does so slowly, without noise. And precisely for this reason it is dangerous. Because when we notice it, the damage is already structural. Territories become dependent on models that impoverish them, while well-being stops being shared and becomes unequal, fragmented, unstable.

Well-being that does not hold over time

The authors insist on a key expression: socially shared well-being. This is not a semantic detail. It is an ethical position. Because well-being that grows only for some, or only for a limited period, is not sustainable. It is a broken promise.

The empirical evidence cited in the study is harsh: growing inequalities, loss of biodiversity, insufficient investment in the future, rising public debt, weak territorial resilience. But the point is not the list — it is the trajectory. A world that consumes today what it will not be able to restore tomorrow.

Then there is the dimension of time, seen as a moral dimension. The article clearly speaks about intergenerational equity: what we do today falls on those who come after us. Every short-term choice is a problematic inheritance. Every externalized cost is a deferred bill.

The false alternative between growth and sustainability

One of the most important passages in the work is the rejection of a toxic narrative: the one that sets growth and sustainability against each other as if they were enemies. The authors dismantle this dichotomy rigorously, but also with a clarity that carries political weight.

Sustainability does not block growth. It is short-sighted growth that destroys the conditions for sustainability. The problem is not competing, but competing badly. Not producing, but producing without asking for whom, at what price, and with what consequences.

From here comes the proposal for a new competitive paradigm, based on social utility, efficiency and social ethics. Concepts that may sound abstract, but actually speak to everyday choices: what we incentivize, what we reward, what we consider acceptable.

Territories as protagonists, not extras

In the narrative that emerges from the article, territories are not mere pawns of globalization. They are places of decision. They can choose whether to continue chasing models that consume them or to build different trajectories — perhaps slower, but more solid.

This requires awareness, literacy and shared responsibility. Businesses, families, institutions, the research world, the non-profit sector: no one is neutral. Everyone participates, for better or worse, in the direction taken.

Hence the call to action. No shortcuts are proposed, but rather work, coordination and vision. Innovation — not as a technological fetish, but as social transformation.

There is no more time to pretend

The message is essentially one: the Race to the Bottom is not sustainable. Not economically, not socially, not humanly.

Continuing along this path means accepting a future of weaker territories, more unequal societies, more frequent conflicts. Exiting it means rethinking the rules of the game, putting shared well-being back at the center, recognizing that sustainability is not a luxury but a necessity.

Read this way, the work of Cesaretti and the other authors is not only a scientific contribution. It is a warning — and at the same time, an act of trust: the idea that territories can still choose not to lose their voice.

For some time now, a silent yet relentless phenomenon — visible to everyone — has been transforming the way we live: the Western food system has stopped truly nourishing us. Supply chains grow longer, producers grow more distant, territories become mere backdrops. Food continues to circulate, of course, but it has lost its voice and its story — it has lost responsibility.

What happens then? A gap opens up between those who produce and those who consume, between economy and society, between territories and markets. And it is precisely in this empty space that the Food Hub is born. A trend? A slogan? Certainly not. Rather, a structured response to an increasingly urgent question: how can we produce, distribute, and consume food without impoverishing what sustains us?

A Food Hub does not arise by chance

A Food Hub is not just a physical place. It is an architecture of relationships. It is a conscious attempt to bring order back into a supply chain that, in recent decades, has become opaque, unbalanced, and often unfair. The principles that inspire it are not neutral, nor purely economic. They are, first and foremost, value-based.

Because at the foundation of every Food Hub lies the idea that food is not a commodity like any other. Behind food there is an entire world: labor, landscape, culture, health, identity. Treating it only as a product reduces its meaning and multiplies its hidden costs — environmental, social, and territorial. For this reason, the Food Hub is created with a clear vocation: to rebuild connections. Between small producers and markets. Between rural areas and urban contexts. Between those who cultivate the land and those who live in cities. It is an infrastructure that holds together economy and responsibility, efficiency and justice.

Social utility: feeding is not enough — inclusion is necessary

The first foundational value of a Food Hub is social utility. But not in a vague, reassuring sense. Here utility is concrete, measurable, everyday.

A Food Hub matters because it guarantees market access for small and medium producers who could not manage it alone. It also creates local job opportunities, often in marginal areas. A Food Hub strengthens territorial food security by promoting food education, awareness, and participation.

In this model, value is not concentrated downstream but distributed along the supply chain. The producer is not the weak link but a central actor. The consumer is not just a customer but part of a system capable of choice. The social utility of the Food Hub lies precisely here: transforming food into a tool of cohesion rather than exclusion. Demonstrating that a fairer food economy is not a utopia, but a feasible construction.

Efficiency: doing better, not simply more

A widespread misunderstanding accompanies every discussion about sustainability: the idea that it is inefficient, unrealistic, incapable of reaching its stated goals. The Food Hub overturns this narrative. It does not reduce efficiency — it redefines it. How? Not by maximizing volumes, but by optimizing resources. This essentially means four actions: reducing unnecessary intermediaries; shortening physical and decision-making distances; sharing logistical, digital, and organizational infrastructures; and coordinating supply and demand intelligently.

In this sense, the Food Hub is a direct response to the systemic waste of the global food system — waste of food, energy, labor, and knowledge. Networking what was previously fragmented means building a system, not losing competitiveness. On the contrary, it means building a more solid competitiveness, less vulnerable to crises and more rooted in territories. An efficiency that does not consume natural and human capital, but preserves it.

Social ethics: choosing which side to stand on

The third value that inspires the Food Hub system is social ethics. Every Food Hub is, inevitably, a political choice in the highest sense of the term — not because it takes an ideological stance, but because it cannot be neutral. It decides what to value, whom to include, which practices to support.

Social ethics comes into play when clear criteria are established:

• Respect for labor and rights;
• Attention to environmental impact;
• Transparency in relationships;
• Fairness in value distribution

In a Food Hub, these are not abstract statements. They become operational rules, access parameters, and collaboration conditions. Ethics is not decoration — it is a load-bearing structure. This radically distinguishes the Food Hub from dominant supply-chain models: it does not chase the lowest price at any cost. It rejects and will ALWAYS reject the Race to the Bottom. It consciously chooses a different path, where sustainability is not a compromise but a direction.

Equity between those here today and those who will come tomorrow

A Food Hub, if it truly wants to be sustainable, cannot stop at the present. Every choice it makes — from how it remunerates producers to how it manages natural resources, to which supply chains it supports — has effects that extend across time and people.

Two dimensions are at stake: intra-generational and inter-generational equity — often ignored, yet decisive. Intra-generational equity concerns the here and now: ensuring fair conditions along the entire supply chain, reducing inequalities, preventing value from concentrating in only a few links while others remain vulnerable. Inter-generational equity, instead, calls for responsibility toward those who come after us: not consuming today the natural, social, and economic capital needed tomorrow. The Food Hub stands precisely in this ethical space, where food becomes a choice of justice in the present and a promise of possibility for the future — showing that feeding a community means caring for its time, not only its immediate needs.

Sustainability as a process, not a label

Emphasizing sustainability in a Food Hub does not mean applying a green sticker. It means building a continuous process made of daily decisions, monitoring, and adaptation. Sustainability emerges when natural capital is respected and regenerated, when human capital is trained and valued, when social capital is strengthened through trust and cooperation, and when economic capital is reinvested in the territory. It is a sustainability that holds present and future together, that looks to the generations to come, that recognizes every food choice as also a territorial choice.

An infrastructure for the future of territories

In the end, the Food Hub is not only about food. It is about a development model. It is a practical laboratory for moving beyond extractive logics and building resilient systems. As discussed in the article on territories previously featured in this blog, the message here too is clear: there is no more time to postpone. The food system is one of the fields where the contradictions of our time are most visible — but also one where change is most possible.

Of course, the Food Hub system does not promise easy solutions. It promises work, coordination, responsibility. But it offers something precious: the possibility of placing food back at the center of a shared vision, where social utility, efficiency, and social ethics are not just words, but daily practices. And perhaps it is precisely from here — from what we eat and how we choose to produce it — that a new idea of territory can begin again.

There is a moment in the life of territories when something stops working without making noise. Houses don’t collapse, factories don’t stop, people don’t disappear. And yet, slowly, the meaning of things thins out. Cities become interchangeable, economies fragile, landscapes exhausted. It is from this silence that the authors’ work begins: not from a sudden crisis, but from a continuous, systemic, almost normalized erosion.

The article speaks of numbers, models, capital stocks. But beneath the methodological surface there is a precise story: that of a world that chose to run without asking where it was going, and of territories that, in trying to remain competitive, began to lose themselves.

The race that lowers everything

They call it the Race to the Bottom. It is a technical expression, but it sounds like the title of a dystopian novel. A race in which you win by lowering prices, compressing rights, simplifying complexity, externalizing everything that weighs on the system. In this race there is no real finish line, only a continuous lowering of the bar: fewer protections, less quality, less future.

Scientists explain it precisely: production standardization, outsourcing of economic, social and environmental costs, competition based almost exclusively on price. But if you read between the lines, what emerges is an impoverished human landscape. A system that produces increasingly similar goods and increasingly fragile territories, as if diversity were a flaw to be corrected rather than a richness to be protected.

In this race, some territories seem to gain ground for a while. But it is a fragile, temporary advantage. Because while they run, they consume the resources that make the race itself possible.

The capitals that make no noise while being consumed

One of the most powerful aspects of the article is the way it speaks about the four capitals: natural, human, social and economic. They are called “stocks,” analyzed and measured. But in reality, what is being described is something much deeper: the invisible wealth that allows societies to exist.

Natural capital is not just the environment: it is the possibility to breathe, cultivate, inhabit. Human capital is not just skills: it is knowledge, education, the ability to imagine. Social capital is not just networks: it is trust, cohesion, a sense of belonging. Economic capital, finally, is not just wealth: it is stability, investment capacity, vision.

The Race to the Bottom consumes them all, but it does so slowly, without noise. And precisely for this reason it is dangerous. Because when we notice it, the damage is already structural. Territories become dependent on models that impoverish them, while well-being stops being shared and becomes unequal, fragmented, unstable.

Well-being that does not hold over time

The authors insist on a key expression: socially shared well-being. This is not a semantic detail. It is an ethical position. Because well-being that grows only for some, or only for a limited period, is not sustainable. It is a broken promise.

The empirical evidence cited in the study is harsh: growing inequalities, loss of biodiversity, insufficient investment in the future, rising public debt, weak territorial resilience. But the point is not the list — it is the trajectory. A world that consumes today what it will not be able to restore tomorrow.

Then there is the dimension of time, seen as a moral dimension. The article clearly speaks about intergenerational equity: what we do today falls on those who come after us. Every short-term choice is a problematic inheritance. Every externalized cost is a deferred bill.

The false alternative between growth and sustainability

One of the most important passages in the work is the rejection of a toxic narrative: the one that sets growth and sustainability against each other as if they were enemies. The authors dismantle this dichotomy rigorously, but also with a clarity that carries political weight.

Sustainability does not block growth. It is short-sighted growth that destroys the conditions for sustainability. The problem is not competing, but competing badly. Not producing, but producing without asking for whom, at what price, and with what consequences.

From here comes the proposal for a new competitive paradigm, based on social utility, efficiency and social ethics. Concepts that may sound abstract, but actually speak to everyday choices: what we incentivize, what we reward, what we consider acceptable.

Territories as protagonists, not extras

In the narrative that emerges from the article, territories are not mere pawns of globalization. They are places of decision. They can choose whether to continue chasing models that consume them or to build different trajectories — perhaps slower, but more solid.

This requires awareness, literacy and shared responsibility. Businesses, families, institutions, the research world, the non-profit sector: no one is neutral. Everyone participates, for better or worse, in the direction taken.

Hence the call to action. No shortcuts are proposed, but rather work, coordination and vision. Innovation — not as a technological fetish, but as social transformation.

There is no more time to pretend

The message is essentially one: the Race to the Bottom is not sustainable. Not economically, not socially, not humanly.

Continuing along this path means accepting a future of weaker territories, more unequal societies, more frequent conflicts. Exiting it means rethinking the rules of the game, putting shared well-being back at the center, recognizing that sustainability is not a luxury but a necessity.

Read this way, the work of Cesaretti and the other authors is not only a scientific contribution. It is a warning — and at the same time, an act of trust: the idea that territories can still choose not to lose their voice.

“Sustainable development is development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.”

The definition of sustainability expressed in the 1987 Brundtland Report is the one that has become widespread in recent years with a very broad interpretation. It has entered political discourse, corporate strategies, advertising campaigns, and school textbooks. Yet, just as the word “sustainability” was becoming familiar, its meaning gradually narrowed, as if it had been locked inside a green box labeled: ENVIRONMENT.

But sustainability, if taken seriously, is not just an ecological issue. Rather, it concerns overall well-being, the balance between the material and immaterial dimensions of life, between the present and the future, between individuals and communities. In other words, it is a question of development model.

Beyond the Brundtland definition

The classic starting point is therefore the definition given by the Brundtland Commission in 1987 and the document that followed it, entitled “Our Common Future”: sustainable development is development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.

A powerful definition, but also deliberately open-ended. It refers to “needs” but does not specify them; it evokes harmony between generations but does not go into detail about the variables that make up well-being.

For years, this definition served as a beacon: it pointed the way without describing the path. And so, in practice, sustainability has often been interpreted as an environmental issue to be addressed alongside economic development, almost as a corrective variable. First we grow, then we “fix” the environment. An approach that today shows all its limitations.

From GDP to well-being: the cultural shift

The first real shock came with the financial crisis of 2007-2009. The collapse of GDP in many Western countries called into question the very idea that gross domestic product is a measure of well-being. In 2007, French President Nicolas Sarkozy commissioned a committee of scholars, including Nobel Prize winners Joseph Stiglitz and Amartya Sen, together with economist Jean-Paul Fitoussi, to answer a simple and revolutionary question: does GDP really measure people's well-being?

The answer is well known: no. Or, at least, it does not measure it completely. GDP tells us how much is produced and how much is spent, but it does not tell us how people live. It says nothing about the quality of the environment, social relations, health, education, or inequalities.

This reflection gave rise to the “Beyond GDP” paradigm. In 2011, the OECD developed a more articulated conceptual framework: well-being is divided into two broad dimensions, material life conditions and quality of life. This is a decisive cultural shift, because it recognizes that well-being is not just about income, but also health, the environment, relationships, leisure time, security, and personal satisfaction.

Above all, a fundamental concept emerges: to be sustainable over time, well-being must be based on four “stocks” of capital: natural, human, economic, and social. If one of these is depleted, overall well-being cannot last.

As the Simone Cesaretti Ets Foundation has believed since 2007 (and it is no coincidence that this is the thesis underlying its founding statute), the sustainability of well-being can be imagined as a balance: on the one hand, equity between people living today, and on the other, equity between generations. Only if the balance remains in equilibrium can the system hold.

In concrete terms, this means three things. First: finding a balance between material conditions and quality of life. Second: reducing inequalities, because a deeply unequal society is not sustainable. Third: investing in the future, i.e., regenerating natural, human, economic, and social capital.

Sustainability, therefore, is not an accessory variable. It is the way in which the entire development process is organized.

What is a development model really?

When we talk about development, we often confuse the term with economic growth. But they are not the same thing. Growth is a quantitative increase in GDP. Development is a qualitative change in the economic and social system.

In macroeconomics, a country's GDP can be described with a simple equation: household consumption, business investment, public spending, exports minus imports. This formula is not just an accounting exercise: it is a snapshot of the structure of an economy.

If consumption is geared towards poor-quality goods or products that destroy the environment, the development model will be fragile. If investments focus on speculative activities rather than culture, research, infrastructure, or human capital, future well-being will be compromised. If public spending does not reduce inequalities, society will become unstable.

In other words, the development model is the structure of the process of change. And sustainability concerns precisely this structure, not just the final results.

Agenda 2030: goals as indicators of change

With the United Nations' Agenda 2030, the message becomes even clearer. The 17 Sustainable Development Goals are not just targets to be achieved. They are indicators of a more profound change.

For example, Goal 2, on food security, is not just a sectoral goal. It is proof that the development model has changed. Unless the economic and social model is changed, world hunger will never be eliminated. The same applies to inequality, gender equality, education, health, energy, and decent work.

Sustainable well-being: an integrated vision

The shift from GDP to well-being represents a paradigm shift. Well-being includes dimensions that cannot be quantified: the beauty of a landscape, the quality of relationships, a sense of belonging to a community, security, mental health.

A week's vacation in an unspoiled place can generate enormous well-being, but it does not enter into GDP statistics except for the expenditure incurred. Yet, for the person experiencing it, that well-being is real, concrete, transformative.

This forces us to review our metrics and priorities. A society that grows economically but destroys territories, creates inequalities, marginalizes young people, and impoverishes social relationships is not a sustainable society, even if GDP increases.

A cultural challenge even before an economic one

As the Simone Cesaretti Ets Foundation hopes, sustainable well-being is not a utopia, but requires a profound cultural change. It means moving from an idea of development based on quantitative accumulation to a vision centered on quality of life and equity.

It also means recognizing that well-being cannot be built at the expense of anyone: neither those living today nor those who will come tomorrow. Sustainability is, after all, a question of justice in time and space.

The point is not simply to “do less damage to the environment.” The point is to rethink the entire model of development so that it produces widespread, lasting, and shared well-being. Sustainability that concerns not only nature, but also relationships, the economy, culture, and quality of life.

When you look at sustainability in this way, the word ceases to be a slogan and becomes a project again. Not a fad, but an evolutionary direction. Not a sacrifice, but a more intelligent and lasting form of well-being. And at that point, utopia ceases to be an unattainable dream and becomes an operational horizon, an open construction site where the economy, society, and the environment stop competing and finally begin to cooperate.

The most authoritative definition of biodiversity is contained in the Convention on Biological Diversity signed in Rio de Janeiro in 1992: biodiversity means "the variability among living organisms from all sources, including terrestrial, marine, and other aquatic ecosystems and the ecological complexes of which they are part; this includes diversity within species, between species and of ecosystems." In other words, we are not just talking about pandas, whales, or tropical forests, but about genes, ecological relationships, dynamic balances, that is, the deep structure of life.

What is biodiversity and why is it central to sustainable development?

In the strictest sense, biodiversity is a genetic concept. It is the variety of genetic heritage that distinguishes one population from another, one species from another, one individual from another. In the animal and plant world, this means resilience: the greater the genetic diversity, the greater the ability to adapt to environmental shocks, climate change, and new diseases. A field cultivated with a single variety is fragile; a complex ecosystem is robust. Nature does not favor monocultures, as they are efficient in the short term but unstable in the long term.

A planet that loses biodiversity does not only lose species. It loses options, evolutionary possibilities, future solutions to problems we do not yet know. Every extinct gene is information deleted forever. From a scientific point of view, this is an objective fact, not a romantic opinion. From an economic and social point of view, it is a reduction in the natural capital on which human development is based.

How biodiversity strengthens the identity and competitiveness of territories

It must be said that biodiversity is not just a biological fact. It is also a cultural and territorial principle. Transferring the concept of biodiversity to territories means recognizing that each local context has a unique genetic, environmental, historical, and productive heritage. A territory that protects its biodiversity protects its identity. And a territory that loses biodiversity tends to become uniform, interchangeable, and therefore economically weaker.

Globalization has brought undoubted benefits in terms of trade, innovation, and access to markets. But when it translates into productive and cultural standardization, it can erode local specificities. Biodiversity, in this sense, represents the opposite of standardization. It is the enhancement of difference as a competitive advantage. Closure? We do not want to see it that way, but rather as an awareness of one's own distinctive value.

Let's consider the economies linked to agri-food biodiversity. Quality labels such as Protected Designation of Origin (PDO), Protected Geographical Indication (PGI), or Controlled and Guaranteed Designation of Origin (DOCG) are not simply commercial labels. Rather, they are tools that protect genetic, environmental, and cultural heritage. Behind a PDO there is a plant or animal variety selected over time, a specific microclimate, knowledge handed down through generations, and a community that preserves production practices.

The same reflection extends to the debate on biotechnology and GMOs. Genetic innovations can offer powerful tools for increasing productivity and resistance. However, the central issue remains the balance between innovation and the conservation of diversity. A strategy focused exclusively on genetic efficiency risks reducing overall variability. Science is not a dogma, it is a method: it observes, experiments, and evaluates impacts. The point is not to demonize or celebrate, but to govern responsibly. Genetic biodiversity is insurance for the future; every choice that reduces it must be weighed very carefully.

Alongside genetic biodiversity, there is also cultural biodiversity. Human communities, like biological species, develop distinctive traits in relation to their environment. Agricultural traditions, local cuisines, rural architecture, cooperative models: all of these arise from the interaction between genetics and context. The diversity between populations is not only biological, it is also historical and environmental. It is the result of mutual adaptations between humans and their territory.

From this perspective, genetic biodiversity and cultural biodiversity reinforce each other. A territory that preserves native varieties, complex agricultural landscapes, and short supply chains also fuels a strong narrative of identity. And this identity becomes a lever for sustainable development in its three dimensions: environmental, economic, and social. Environmental, because it protects ecosystems. Economic, because it creates exclusive products that cannot be replicated elsewhere. Social, because it strengthens the sense of belonging and cohesion.

Biodiversity is therefore an exclusive advantage. Not in the sense of a closed privilege, but in the sense of irreplaceable uniqueness. In a global market, uniqueness is value. If everything is the same, everything is replaceable. If a territory is unique, it becomes attractive. This applies to agri-food products, sustainable tourism, crafts, and innovative supply chains linked to the bioeconomy.

Genetic and cultural biodiversity: what role for young people and innovation?

This issue is particularly relevant for younger generations. Young people are, by definition, bearers of biological and cultural diversity: new skills, new sensibilities, new consumption models. Investing in biodiversity means investing in a model of human development that recognizes plurality as a source of wealth. This translates into developing interdisciplinary skills capable of integrating natural sciences, economics, law, and territorial governance.

The Statute of the Simone Cesaretti ETS Foundation focuses on promoting sustainable development based on the balance between humans and the environment. In this context, biodiversity is not a sectoral issue, but a conceptual cornerstone. It is the material and symbolic basis on which to build forward-looking public policies. Without biodiversity, there can be no lasting food security, no climate resilience, no true intergenerational justice.

Science tells us that we are experiencing a phase of drastic reduction in global biodiversity.

The rate of species extinction is significantly higher than the natural background rate. This is not a rhetorical alarm, but empirical data documented by decades of research. The question is not whether to act, but how to do so in a systemic way.

Integrated policies are needed: habitat protection, promotion of sustainable agriculture, support for local quality production, investment in responsible genetic research, widespread environmental education. A cultural change is also needed: recognizing that diversity, in nature as in societies, is not an obstacle to efficiency, but its condition of possibility in the long term.

Biodiversity teaches us a simple and radical lesson: life thrives on difference. Standardization may seem easier, but it is fragile. Diversification is more complex, but it is resilient. In an era of climate crises, geopolitical tensions, and accelerated technological transformations, resilience is the real currency of the future.

Protecting biodiversity means protecting the ability of the planet—and human communities—to reinvent themselves without collapsing. It is an ethical choice, of course. But it is also a strategic choice. Because in the great laboratory of Earth, variety is not a decorative detail: it is the very condition of life.

“The absence of a social project prevents young people from having a vision, and the qualitative and quantitative inadequacy of educational, occupational, and associative models distances them from the process of building common well-being.”

This is one of the passages from an interview given by Professor Gianpaolo Cesaretti to Futura Network magazine towards the end of 2020, in the midst of the pandemic (you can read the entire interview here). It is a statement that makes us reflect on the fact that, if this is the case, we must admit that sustainability, real sustainability, not the kind discussed at conferences, cannot be limited to environmental protection or economic efficiency. It must include intergenerational justice as an operational criterion.

Since its inception, the Simone Cesaretti ets Foundation has identified overcoming generational dumping as a necessary condition for truly sustainable development. Generational dumping means transferring the costs and imbalances produced by short-sighted choices to the younger generations: job insecurity, structural unemployment, underinvestment in education, delays in the ecological transition, self-referential decision-making models.

It is a form of outsourcing the future, the very opposite of investing in the younger generations! Sustainability, then, is not just a question of natural resources. Instead, it involves investing human, social, and institutional capital. It is a question of vision.

Generational dumping as a structural barrier to development

To understand the scope of the problem, we need to move beyond rhetoric. In recent decades, market globalization has not been accompanied by a parallel globalization of rights and rules. As a result, there has been an increase in inequality, not only between countries but also between age groups.

Young people have paid the highest price for systemic precariousness: above-average unemployment rates, intermittent contracts, delayed paths to economic independence, and difficulties in accessing credit and housing. Added to this is public investment in training and research that is often insufficient compared to European standards.

The paradox is clear: it is precisely the most qualified, innovative, and potentially sustainability-oriented component that is marginalized in decision-making processes. This weakens the productive system's ability to regenerate itself and compromises the quality of growth.

Sustainability, in the view of the Simone Cesaretti ets Foundation, requires an “integrated vision” of well-being: the availability of adequate goods and services, equitable access to opportunities, and investment in human, natural, economic, and social capital. Without this integration, growth remains fragile and unbalanced.

Training and work: the strategic crux of the transition

If sustainability implies a paradigm shift—from linearity to circularity in economic processes, from short-sighted competition to responsible cooperation—then the training system becomes a strategic infrastructure.

It is not enough to increase resources; we need to rethink all models. Today, there is still a disconnect between educational pathways and the demand for emerging professional skills, particularly in sectors linked to the ecological and digital transition. Without adequately trained human capital, even the most ambitious investments risk failing to produce multiplier effects.

However, education is not just about acquiring technical skills but also about building a mindset. With this in mind, the principles of sustainability must become the operating philosophy of institutions, businesses, and families. This implies a rethinking of educational content, teaching methods, and assessment criteria. It is not a question of certifying skills but of generating critical awareness and the ability to interpret the future.

On the employment front, the right to access the labor market must be understood as a substantive right. Activation policies, efficient employment services, incentives aimed at youth employment, support for business creation, and continuing education are indispensable tools for reducing labor market dualism and combating the NEET phenomenon.

A young person who is properly trained and stably integrated into the productive system is not only a beneficiary of public policies. They are a multiplier of economic and social value. They contribute to the social security system, public spending, and territorial cohesion. In systemic terms, they become the cornerstone of society.

Towards a Youth Society: changing decision-making models

The most radical point of the analysis that emerges from the interview concerns decision-making models. All stakeholders—institutions, businesses, the knowledge system, families—are involved in the generational issue. A “youth quota” in decision-making processes? Not exactly: it is instead a question of rethinking the entire architecture of the latter.

Sustainability requires a symmetrical combination of ethics, economic efficiency, and intra- and intergenerational equity. This means evaluating public policies not only in terms of their immediate impact, but also in terms of their long-term effects on the younger generations. It means including young people in governance, strengthening their participation in representative bodies, and recognizing their role as co-protagonists in defining development strategies.

The Foundation's advocacy moves in this direction: advanced training, scientific publishing, support for policy makers, and promotion of a culture of sustainability capable of influencing collective behavior. The goal is clear: to build a Youth's Society, a society in which young people are not passive recipients of others' decisions but active vectors of sustainable well-being.

Ultimately, the question we started with remains on the table: can a society that does not allow its young people to imagine and build the future be considered sustainable? The answer, if we want to be rigorous, is no. Sustainability is an intergenerational pact. And every pact, to be credible, must guarantee reciprocity, responsibility, and a shared vision. Without this, the word remains. The project, on the other hand, does not come to fruition.

When we talk about sustainability, the collective imagination immediately turns to energy, transportation, and emissions. All of which is correct. But there is something much more everyday, concrete, almost banal in its constant presence: food. Three times a day, every day, we make a choice that has economic, social, environmental, and cultural consequences. It is worth repeating: eating is never a neutral act, but a decision that helps shape the world.

Every food supply chain tells a story of natural resources, human labor, technology, commercial relationships, and cultural traditions. From farm to table, food crosses territories and economic systems, involving millions of people. For this reason, reflecting on sustainability also means questioning how we produce, distribute, and consume what we eat. Our daily meals thus become a mirror of the development model we choose to support.

What we mean when we talk about the right to food

Food sustainability is not just about the quantity available, but above all the quality and conditions in which that food is produced, distributed, and consumed. When we talk about the “right to food,” we don't just mean having something on our plates. The concept is instead related to being able to access safe, nutritious, high-quality food that is produced without environmental or social exploitation and is compatible with the well-being of future generations. It is a seemingly simple concept that is, in reality, closely linked to the concept of sustainability and opens up a network of connections with almost all major global challenges. The right to food cannot be separated from human dignity and public health, social stability, and economic justice. It is no coincidence that where there is no equitable access to food, conflict, inequality, and poverty emerge. Guaranteeing this right therefore means building resilient food systems capable of responding to people's needs without compromising the planet's resources.

What is the connection between agriculture, climate, and social stability?

The food system is one of the main contributors to climate change, accounting for about a quarter of global emissions. At the same time, it is also one of the sectors most vulnerable to the effects of climate change. Extreme events, droughts, and loss of soil fertility are already putting pressure on agricultural production. When agriculture weakens, it is not only the food supply that is reduced: inequalities increase, social tensions are exacerbated, and migration flows intensify. In many areas of the world, the scarcity of agricultural resources becomes a factor of political and social instability. Rural communities, lacking economic alternatives, are often forced to abandon their land. Investing in sustainable agricultural practices therefore means not only protecting the environment, but also strengthening food security, economic stability, and social cohesion.

How food influences the economy and development

Food is not just nutrition: it is also economics and employment. In developing countries, agriculture is often the main source of income and employment, contributing significantly to economic growth and poverty reduction. Even in more advanced contexts, the agri-food sector remains a powerful driver of development, capable of activating production chains, services, tourism, and innovation. Consider, for example, the role of typical products and designations of origin, which enhance the value of local areas and create sustainable local economies. A healthy and well-organized food system can generate employment, encourage entrepreneurship, and stimulate technological innovation. Conversely, unbalanced production models focused exclusively on immediate profit risk compromising natural resources and the economic prospects of future generations.

Food and health: a crucial link

Let's move away from discussions about productivity and the economy and look at people's health. In recent decades, the relationship between diet and chronic diseases has become clear. Heart disease, diabetes, cancer, and respiratory diseases are now among the leading causes of death worldwide, and a significant proportion of these risks are linked to poor eating habits.

However, it is clear that even for noncommunicable diseases (cardiovascular and respiratory diseases, cancer, and diabetes), which cause 41 million deaths worldwide, accounting for 71% of all deaths, including 15 million between the ages of 30 and 69, especially in developing countries (WHO, 2018), effective preventive action can be taken by eliminating certain risk factors such as tobacco use, unhealthy diets, physical inactivity, and excessive alcohol consumption. Food, therefore, is not only a biological need, but also a tool for prevention and building well-being. A balanced diet can become a widespread and daily health policy. Reducing the consumption of ultra-processed foods, favoring fresh and seasonal products, and rediscovering traditional dietary patterns such as the Mediterranean diet means investing in collective health. Individual food choices, when added together, have a macroscopic effect on health systems and the public economy, demonstrating how food is a strategic factor for the well-being of societies.

Culture, territory, and identity

Food sustainability is not just about numbers or nutrients. There is also a cultural and territorial dimension. Food is identity, tradition, pleasure, and social relations. Local production, local food systems, and short supply chains are not only an ecological choice, but also a way to strengthen social cohesion and enhance the value of local areas. A typical dish is, after all, a small living archive: it contains history, climate, geography, and experiences handed down over time. The loss of local food traditions is not only a gastronomic issue, but also a cultural and economic one. Recovering and promoting traditional production means supporting communities, landscapes, and knowledge. Food thus becomes a tool for narrating the territory and building collective identity.

Feeding the planet without waste

By 2050, the world population could reach ten billion people. Feeding everyone in a fair and sustainable way will be one of the decisive challenges of the century. Today, however, the problem is not only production: it is also distribution and waste. About one-third of the food produced globally is lost or thrown away, while hundreds of millions of people continue to suffer from hunger. This is a paradox that highlights the unsustainability of the current model. Reducing food waste, improving distribution networks, and promoting responsible consumption patterns are essential actions for building a more equitable food system. Even consumers' daily choices, such as shopping consciously or making use of leftovers, can help reduce the environmental and social impact of the food system.

This is why the United Nations 2030 Agenda has placed Goal 2 at its center: ending hunger, improving nutrition, and promoting sustainable agriculture. Building a sustainable food system means rethinking the very concept of well-being: not just economic growth, but a balance between quality of life, social equity, and environmental protection. From this perspective, every meal becomes a small gesture of responsibility towards the future. Food thus ceases to be merely consumption and becomes a cultural, economic, and political act, capable of steering the development model toward a more equitable and sustainable future.

Almost twenty years after its founding, the Fondazione Simone Cesaretti ETS continues along a clear trajectory: promoting a culture of sustainability that integrates economic, social, environmental, and human dimensions. This path does not arise from a simple program of activities, but from a broader vision, encapsulated in the Foundation’s Manifesto.

The Manifesto is not a static document. Rather, it represents a cultural and civic horizon, born from the memory and experience of Simone Cesaretti, and developed over the years through the work of scholars, researchers, and young people. The origins and deeper meaning are recalled in several videos by two voices that have accompanied the Foundation since the beginning: journalist Ilaria D’Amico, a friend of Simone, and Professor Gian Paolo Cesaretti, economist and founder of the Foundation.

Revisiting these words today means understanding how the values that gave life to the Foundation have not only remained intact, but are even more necessary in an era marked by increasingly interconnected environmental, social, and economic crises. From this perspective, the Manifesto continues to point the way: building a global culture of sustainability based on knowledge, interdisciplinary collaboration, and the engagement of new generations.

The Seed of the Foundation: Youth, the Sea, and Participation

One of the most moving events celebrating the Fondazione Simone Cesaretti ETS traces its roots to the first edition of the “Youth and the Sea” event, organized in Terracina after the Foundation’s first year, in 2008 (watch the video here).

Recalling that moment, Ilaria D’Amico emphasizes that the choice of location was no coincidence. For Simone, Terracina represented much more than a simple place: it was a space for life, relationships, and discovery, the place where one could connect with the sea and the energy of the natural elements. The sea thus becomes a metaphor for openness, depth, and connection between people and the world.

From the very beginning, the Foundation’s goal was clear: to involve young people in a path of knowledge and participation. The competition organized on that occasion demonstrated the strong desire of new generations to contribute ideas and projects to building a different future.

However, the value of participation is not presented as merely an educational or cultural activity. It is something deeper: a way to activate energy, stimulate curiosity, and generate awareness. In D’Amico’s words, the portrait of Simone emerges as a person capable of continuously gathering inspiration, nurturing relationships, and transforming friendship and love for the sea into a shared energy.

The Sea Becomes a Symbol of Sustainability

The sea thus becomes almost a symbol of sustainability itself. It is a vast, complex, and fragile space at the same time, highlighting the need to think about the future in terms of balance between nature, society, and human development. The seed of the Foundation was planted right here: in the belief that the relationship between young people, knowledge, and the territory can generate a new awareness of our role in the world.

The Values of Sustainability: A Shared Vision

The Foundation’s cultural path also takes shape through the Forum organized in 2009 (watch the video here), a moment of reflection dedicated to sustainable development and the values that should guide the future of contemporary societies.

In her opening remarks, Ilaria D’Amico recalls the years of friendship with Simone Cesaretti—the years of adolescence and university—when exchanging ideas and aspirations provided fertile ground for imagining the future. Those conversations among friends, between books and moments of lightheartedness, revolved around a fundamental question: what kind of world do we want to build? Not an abstract question, but a concrete reflection on the values that should guide human development.

In this narrative, sustainability does not appear as a technical concept or merely a set of environmental policies. It is a comprehensive approach to social and economic life, capable of integrating multiple levels: the environment, the economy, the territory, as well as human relationships and personal growth.

D’Amico emphasizes a crucial point: values cannot simply be invoked in public discourse. They must be lived and translated into concrete practices. Only in this way can they become the foundation for truly sustainable development.

The Forum was created precisely with this goal: to transform insights and aspirations into a path of study and practical application. In other words, to build a space for dialogue where scholars, professionals, and young people could collaboratively develop new models of development. The Foundation thus positions itself as a place for cultural exchange and intellectual development, capable of connecting theoretical reflection with concrete action—a laboratory where the idea of sustainability becomes a shared, open, and continuously evolving process.

The Foundation’s Manifesto: Toward a Global Culture of Sustainability

If Ilaria D’Amico’s remarks convey the Foundation’s emotional and cultural origins, the words of Professor Gian Paolo Cesaretti during the same meeting (watch the video here) provide a more precise articulation of the theoretical and political vision guiding its actions.

At the core of the Manifesto is a key idea: sustainability cannot exist without recognizing the interdependence between the different dimensions of development. Economic, social, environmental, territorial, and generational aspects must be considered with equal importance. According to Cesaretti, one of the main obstacles to building a global culture of sustainability is the asymmetry between these dimensions. Contemporary society tends to favor the market and economic growth while neglecting the social and environmental balances that make truly lasting development possible.

From this arises a clear critique of the so-called “market fundamentalism”: the idea that market laws alone can constitute the sole criterion for organizing society. A market without shared rules risks conflicting with the laws of nature and the needs of social cohesion.

But this fundamentalism is not limited to the economy. Cesaretti also calls for recognizing and addressing other forms of closure: cultural, ideological, religious, ethnic, or generational. Any form of exclusion or radical opposition represents an obstacle to building a sustainable society.

For this reason, the Foundation’s Manifesto places a fundamental principle at its center: the recognition of the rights of future generations. Thinking about the future is not simply about planning economic development, but about ensuring that natural, social, and cultural resources can be passed on to those who come after us.

This vision also informs the Foundation’s working method: a multidimensional and multidisciplinary approach. Economists, sociologists, biologists, doctors, scientists, and communicators must engage in dialogue, overcoming academic barriers that often hinder a complex understanding of global challenges.

The Foundation positions itself as a network hub, a meeting place for diverse expertise, capable of promoting a culture of sustainability that is simultaneously scientific, social, and human. Cesaretti uses a particularly evocative metaphor: that of a fragile plant that must be cultivated and protected. The global culture of sustainability is still young and vulnerable, but it can grow if supported by a broad and conscious community.

Nearly twenty years after its founding, the Fondazione Simone Cesaretti ETS continues to pursue this path. The Manifesto is not merely a statement of intent: it is an ongoing invitation to research, dialogue, and shared responsibility.

There are symbols that do more than simply represent an institution; they embody its deepest identity, becoming a visual synthesis of values, vision, and commitment. The logo of the Simone Cesaretti ETS Foundation belongs precisely to this category, as it embodies a true cultural manifesto. Nearly twenty years after the Foundation’s inception, this emblem continues to convey, with surprising relevance, a concept of sustainability that has never been static but is constantly evolving, capable of engaging with the challenges of the present and the future.

Far from any superficial interpretation, the logo encapsulates a complex concept, born from a profound reflection on the role of the younger generations, the importance of values, and the need to build a balanced model of development. Understanding the meaning of this symbol, therefore, means entering the heart of the Foundation’s mission and grasping its consistency over time.

The young person and the horizon: a vision grounded in solidity

At the base of the logo lies a simple yet powerfully evocative figure: a young person gazing toward the horizon. Is it a random or purely aesthetic image? Absolutely not. It is a deliberate choice that places new generations at the center as protagonists of change.

This young person is not portrayed in a state of uncertainty or instability. On the contrary, their gaze is calm, projected toward the future with confidence. Here emerges the first level of interpretation of the logo: the ability to look ahead depends on the strength of the foundations upon which one builds their path.

The Foundation identifies these foundations in the four pillars of sustainability: knowledge, values, respect for the environment, and participation. These are not isolated concepts, but structural elements that must coexist and reinforce one another. Without this solid base, the future appears fragile, uncertain, and difficult to sustain.

From this perspective, the logo takes on an almost pedagogical dimension: it suggests that the well-being of new generations cannot exist without cultural and social investment in these pillars. It is an implicit invitation to create conditions that allow young people to recognize themselves in the proposed development model, avoiding phenomena of disengagement and marginalization.

Gears and Pillars: Sustainability as an Interconnected System

The conceptual core of the logo develops around the image of gears, inspired by the mechanism of a clock. Here, the metaphor becomes even more refined: sustainability is not a set of juxtaposed elements, but a dynamic system in which every component is interconnected.

The initial gear, symbolically marked by the “V” for values, represents the spark that sets the entire mechanism in motion. This is far from a secondary choice: values are not an accessory element, but the essential starting point. Without them, the system does not activate—it remains inert.

From this initial impulse unfolds a chain of connections involving knowledge, respect for the environment, and participation. The image of the clock thus becomes particularly effective: if even one gear stops or disconnects, the entire system ceases to function.

This vision anticipates, with remarkable clarity, one of the core principles of contemporary sustainability thinking: the interdependence between different dimensions. There can be no sustainable development without a balance between knowledge, ethics, the environment, and active community engagement.

Particularly significant is the reference to participation, understood not merely as presence, but as identification. The mention of young people who neither study nor work highlights a social fracture that risks compromising the entire system. In this sense, the logo does not simply represent an ideal—it implicitly points out a critical issue and indicates a direction: rebuilding the connection between individuals and society through an inclusive model.

The Scale and the Path: Balance and the Goal of Sustainability

If the base of the logo represents its foundations and the gears its functioning, the upper part introduces a project-oriented dimension: the path toward sustainability.

The scale is the central symbol of this phase. It immediately evokes the idea of balance, but in this context, it takes on a broader and more complex meaning. It is not only about balancing interests or resources, but about harmonizing all components of the system into a coherent project.

Each element must find its place without dominating the others. This is the necessary condition for the path to develop effectively. Sustainability, in fact, is not a starting point, but a goal that is reached through a process.

This process is visually represented by a movement leading toward a final point: the “dot,” symbolizing the ideal destination. It is not a fixed or definitive objective, but rather a horizon to strive toward, with the awareness that the journey itself is an integral part of the outcome.

Completing the picture, the four lines placed above the scale introduce an additional layer of interpretation, linked to the four forms of capital: human, natural, social, and economic. These elements represent the fundamental resources on which any sustainable development project is built.

Their presence in the logo underscores a key principle: sustainability cannot be reduced to an environmental or economic dimension alone, but must integrate all forms of capital that contribute to collective well-being. Once again, the idea of balance and interconnection emerges strongly.

The Logo as a Visual Synthesis of a Philosophy

Nearly twenty years after its creation, the logo of the Fondazione Simone Cesaretti ETS continues to stand as a symbolic device of extraordinary relevance. It is not merely an identifying element, but a visual synthesis of a complex philosophy, capable of combining theoretical rigor with strong communicative power.

In a context where the word “sustainability” sometimes risks being emptied of its meaning, this symbol restores depth and concreteness to the concept, reminding us that it is grounded in values, knowledge, participation, and respect for the environment—and that it requires balance among different forms of capital.

The logo thus becomes a compass, a constant point of reference that guides the Foundation’s activities and ensures their consistency over time. Above all, it represents a message addressed to new generations: the future can only be faced with confidence if it is built on solid and shared foundations.

The original values not only endure, but grow stronger, demonstrating that the vision that gave rise to the Foundation does not belong to the past. Rather, it continues to serve as a fundamental lens through which to understand the present and shape the future.