Veganismo on manuel uberti

A call for systemic change

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Thu, 04 Sep 2025 00:00:00 +0000

El que lucha por la vida nunca muere.

— Anonymous¹

I had plenty of time on the train back home after three days at the Conference for Animal Liberation in Copenhagen (CALC from now on). And I needed that time to process the amount of thoughts the conference had left me with.

Usually when I go to a conference I like to write a report on that experience.² It’s my way of recording what the event has been and has meant to me. It’s also a trivial opportunity to say “thank you!” to the organisers of said event.

However, CALC was no ordinary conference for me, and not just because, for once, it had nothing to do with the IT business. CALC has been special because it made me feel exactly where I was supposed to be, as if it was an extension and an enrichment of the sense of belonging I feel in my activism.

This was true from the very beginning of the conference. I immediately felt in a safe space when I arrived. The quiet atmosphere, the care everybody had for each and every one of us attendees, the cozy space, the breaks between sessions, the food and the workshops, the Animal Liberation March. I cannot fathom the amounts of hours that it must have taken to build such a wonderful environment, but even before the first talk started I knew CALC would end up meaning a lot more than the chance to learn something new.

Maybe it had to do with what Jake Conroy said in his final talk, when he highlighted the importance of the do-it-yourself approach and the difference that it makes when it fuels grassroots activism. You discover how resourceful you can be if you are not backed by someone, you transform what is uncomfortable into something comfortable as you struggle to make ends meet. And together with fellow activists, this can become the experience of a lifetime.

Coming sponsored by no one,³ CALC displayed the power of a community driven to a cause so few seem to deeply care about. But instead of preaching to the choir, CALC pushed hard on the intersectionality pedal in order to encourage us to think about and work for a much needed systemic change. The conference raised awareness on multiple connections that sometimes escape the movement for animal liberation.

For example, I learned a great deal about the abuse of amphibians and reptiles in China thanks to Jin Qian’s research, and I was horrified when Fernando linked cattle ranchers to civil wars in Colombia. At the same time, as Laura Broxson told us the successes of NARA and Animal Rebellion in Ireland when it comes to pig farming, I was enthralled.

Admittedly, I wanted for CALC to never really end because it looked like the beginning of something much bigger than a conference. Or I don’t know, maybe it —whatever it is— has been going on for a while and it’s just me being fashionably late to the party once again.

This quote was shown in the last slide of Fernando’s talk. ↩︎
See, for instance, Scrappy hearts and Clojure fiddles or Dutch Clojure Days 2018 round-up. ↩︎
A reference to Fugazi’s Full Disclosure. ↩︎

Pagine Animali

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Fri, 22 Aug 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Il 5,6 e 7 settembre arriva a Mantova Pagine Animali, il primo festival di letteratura dedicato al nostro rapporto con gli altri abitanti di questo pianeta.

Come No Food • No Science, vogliamo rispondere all’indifferenza di Festivaletteratura, che nonostante le proteste (nostre nel 2024 e di Fridays for Future nel 2023) mantiene come sponsor gli allevamenti intensivi e i macelli di Levoni e Grana Padano, e i combustibili fossili di Eni.

La nostra proposta è il contro-festival Pagine Animali. Tre giorni di incontri per raccontarci storie diverse: di animali che resistono, di cittadine (e non) che si organizzano contro la brutalità di un sistema cieco a tutto tranne al profitto.

Vogliamo che la letteratura sia uno strumento di liberazione e non l’ancella di un sistema economico distruttivo. Ne discuteremo con filosof* e scrittor* come Eva Meijer, Claudio Kulesko e il gruppo Ippolita, con poet* e drammaturgh* come Pietro Babina, Teodora Mastrototaro e Maria Martelli, con studios* di genere e sessualità come Carol Adams e Egon Botteghi, con artist* come Geo e Violinoviola. Gli spazi per le conferenze sono accessibili e gratuiti, e ci saranno pranzi e cene succulente ai Circoli Arci Virgilio e Arci Papacqua.

Continuiamo a chiedere a Festivaletteratura di recidere i rapporti con sponsor nocivi come Levoni e Grana Padano. Insieme possiamo scrivere storie migliori.

Ci vediamo a Mantova il 5, 6 e 7 settembre, ma puoi sbirciare il nostro Linktree per maggiori informazioni.

Brucia, dunque disobbedisci

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Wed, 06 Aug 2025 00:00:00 +0000

I say what I mean, and I do what I say.

— Heat, Michael Mann

Uno dei più bei libri che ho letto quest’anno è A fuoco di Gianluca Grimalda, un autore portato alla mia attenzione da No Food • No Science. Ho iniziato la lettura appena prima di partire in treno per una settimana in Calabria, e tutta la vacanza ha finito per essere segnata dalle parole di Grimalda e da frequenti riflessioni dettate dalle sue esperienze.

Licenziato per essersi rifiutato di prendere un aereo, Grimalda racconta il suo viaggiare lento e l’impatto che la disobbedienza civile ha avuto sulla sua vita. Non è ovviamente solo la dimensione lavorativa ad essere coinvolta, anzi. A pagare le conseguenze dell’attivismo di Grimalda è soprattutto la dimensione affettiva.

A fuoco mescola diario di viaggio, vicende personali e ricerca scientifica. Sembra un caos, ma Grimalda tiene tutto insieme con una scrittura fluida che alterna specifici episodi del suo lungo percorso via terra e via mare per rientrare in Italia dall’isola di Bougainville a sintetiche e potenti analisi sulla crisi climatica e i suoi effetti, il tutto senza perdere mai di vista i rapporti con la famiglia.

Proprio questi ultimi sono quelli che mi hanno dato più da pensare. Dopo anni di veganismo, genitori e parenti continuano a rifiutare di prendere seriamente in considerazione le motivazioni delle mie scelte. Insistono, piuttosto, con etichette quali “radicalità” ed “estremismo”, come se il mio solo esistere diversamente costituisse di per sé un problema o, peggio, un pericolo.

Grimalda, allora, diventa un esempio e un modello di riferimento per me. Rischiare tutto consapevoli di perderlo e in nome di un valore più alto è proprio quel genere di vocazione che ci muove senza che la si possa spiegare a parole. La qualifichiamo mettendola in pratica, agendo quotidianemente nel solo modo che ci sembra possibile. Si dice quello in cui si crede, e si fa quello che si dice.

Non è un caso che abbia scelto di partecipare alla Conference for Animal Liberation viaggiando in treno sia all’andata che al ritorno. La disobbedienza è anche questa: rifiutarsi di credere che la comodità non abbia un prezzo.

Conference for Animal Liberation

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Tue, 05 Aug 2025 00:00:00 +0000

A quick announcement.

You’ll find me in Copenhagen from 29 to 31 August because I’ll be attending the Conference for Animal Liberation.

I’ve been planning this trip for a while now and I’m really looking forward to being there.

Do reach out if you want to talk about activism and veganism. I’ll be glad to share my experience and, more importantly, to learn from yours.

See you there!

No Food • No Science

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Mon, 12 May 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Questo fine settimana a Mantova, a partire da venerdì 16 fino a domenica 18 maggio, c’è No Food • No Science, un contro-festival nato per contrastare il festival Food&Science e fare emergere tutte le contraddizioni di un evento sponsorizzato dalle multinazionali zootecniche della Pianura Padana.

Fieramente antispecista e intersezionale, No Food • No Science replicherà quanto fatto l’anno scorso durante la prima edizione per mostrare che, ancora una volta, dal basso la presa di posizione politica e militante non ha intenzione di fermarsi.

Per me sarà l’occasione di partecipare a un festival che rifiuta il compromesso riformista di adeguare il dialogo verso chi non è disposto a radicalizzarsi. Mai come adesso ne sento il bisogno.

Il programma è molto ricco, consiglio di tenere d’occhio la pagina Instagram per maggiori dettagli.

Ci vediamo là.

Ribelli e solidali

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Wed, 15 Jan 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Della mia recente scissione da Anonymous for the Voiceless (AV d’ora in avanti) ho già scritto, dunque non mi starò a ripetere in merito. Dicevo anche che non avevo intenzione di smettere con l’attivismo e che ero alla ricerca di una realtà più vicina al mio sentire per poterlo riprendere senza dover rinunciare a niente di me.

Bene, da ieri sono ufficialmente entrato a far parte di Ribellione Animale insieme ad alcune delle persone con cui avevo lasciato il capitolo locale di AV. Ma perché proprio Ribellione Animale e non altri movimenti o organizzazioni?

Dico subito che ci ho messo diverso tempo a convincermi che il modo di agire di Ribellione Animale facesse al caso mio. Due le ragioni in particolare:

conoscevo Ribellione Animale solo superficialmente;
conoscevo ancora più superficialmente il concetto di disobbedienza civile non violenta.

La prima ragione deriva da un uso frettoloso dei canali social di Ribellione Animale, attraverso i quali mi ero dato l’impressione, clamorosamente infondata, di un movimento interessato soprattutto a creare disturbo senza che le conseguenze di determinate azioni arrivassero da qualche parte in maniera efficace. È bastato un colloquio con il gruppo di accoglienza di Ribellione Animale per capire quanto teoria e prassi si intreccino con intelligenza e passione in tutto l’agire del movimento.

La seconda ragione si ricollega alla prima e deriva da un altro errore di valutazione da parte mia. Forse perché ancora scottato dall’esperienza negativa con AV, avevo dimenticato la storia delle vittorie che la disobbedienza civile non violenta è riuscita ad ottenere. Intralciare il quotidiano svolgimento di eventi così da penetrare nella routine delle persone per destabilizzarne la percezione, cosciente o incosciente, dello status quo e della sua complice accettazione è il modo più efficace per fare pressione sulle istituzioni che ogni giorno lo rinforzano, quello status quo, e respingono chiunque lo metta in discussione.

È da quando ho lasciato AV che non ho smesso un giorno di riflettere su tutto questo. Ho trovato utile ripassare l’operato di figure chiave come Stokely Carmichael e Angela Davis, ma ancora più utile mi è stato leggere Astra Taylor, nello specifico The Age of Insecurity e, soprattutto, il volume a quattro mani con Leah Hunt-Hendrix, Solidarity.

Proprio la solidarietà trasformativa che Taylor e Hunt-Hendrix tematizzano nel loro testo mi sembra essere la direzione intrapresa da Ribellione Animale. Una solidarietà con la quale non si tratta di fare di noi un’unità esclusiva in conflitto con un antagonista da annientare. Piuttosto, una solidarietà con cui costruire insieme uno spazio che valorizzi ogni differenza e che permetta di relazionarsi in modo agonistico con l’avversario consensualmente individuato. Riprendendo le parole di Taylor e Hunt-Hendrix, non dobbiamo mai dimenticare la capacità che l’essere umano ha di cambiare. Non è in gioco l’eliminazione di un antagonista, quindi, quanto la profonda trasformazione di un avversario.

È da qui che intendo ricominciare. È così che voglio continuare.

A new artwork by Disagioia

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Thu, 09 Jan 2025 00:00:00 +0000

If you visit this website on a regular basis¹ then you may have already noticed that my poorly customised hawthorn SVG is gone.

The new, brilliant artwork comes from the cleverly creative hands of Disagioia, an Italian artist who saw the lack of artistic skills on my side and was kind enough to spare me some much deserved criticism.

The great thing is that we share a common interest in veganism and anti-speciesism, so she immediately understood what I was looking for to make this corner of the web a bit more personal and beautiful.

Isn’t it pretty?

Furthermore, Gioia updated the Open Graph image as well, adding the right words from my beloved Baruch Spinoza.

If you enjoy her work do check out her portfolio to see what she’s capable of. I’m rather confident you’ll find something you’ll like in there.

Thanks a lot for that! ↩︎

Dalla periferia con furore

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Mon, 06 Jan 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Non so mai come qualificare il mio rapporto con i social. Da un lato non perdo occasione per criticarne la superficialità della gran parte dei contenuti e insultarli per il tempo che mi fanno perdere; dall’altro, c’è una percentuale più o meno grande di valore aggiunto alla mia vita grazie ad essi. Senza i social, per esempio, non sarei mai incappato in Martina Miccichè e non avrei mai saputo dell’esistenza del suo libro Femminismo di periferia.

Miccichè è una scienziata politica, una fotoreporter e un’attivista dall’approccio intersezionale e antispecista. Scrive una newsletter di nome Buccia e a me sembra che non si fermi mai, neanche per tirare il fiato. Chi l’ha vista presentare Femminismo di periferia dal vivo parla di serate travolgenti ed esperienze intense dove la rabbia appassionata dell’autrice emerge con tutta la sua forza.

È pur vero che bastano poche pagine del libro in questione per percepire con quale umore Miccichè stia scrivendo. Partendo dal quartiere milanese in cui è cresciuta, la Comasina, l’autrice analizza tutte le implicazioni della tremenda opposizione centro-periferia. Cosa significa vivere in centro se non essere al centro? E per converso, che impatto ha esistere fuori da esso? Dal suo essere socialmente costruita al bisogno di de-costruirla collettivamente, la relazione centro-periferia investe spazi che non sono solo geografici, ma esistenziali, economici e, prima di tutto, politici. I corpi umani e non umani intrappolati nella distanza dal centro sono segnati da una differenza che ne sancisce lo statuto ontologico inferiore rispetto a quello di chi gode del privilegio di poter usufruire del centro. Esistere fuori da esso, dunque, è anche resistere ad esso.

La restrizione degli spazi vitali e la riduzione del valore sociale di luoghi e corpi è comprensibile solo se le si osserva da più punti di vista. Miccichè, allora, lavora in modo da non concentrare il proprio sguardo su un’unica limitante traiettoria. Per capire le vite ai margini è necessario prima capire cosa sono quei margini e le conseguenze che abitandoli ci si porta dietro. Si nasce marginalizzati o lo si diventa? Si vive in periferia o si è la periferia? Il fuori messo a tema qui è un al di là del centro che quest’ultimo sceglie, ogni giorno, di allontanare sempre di più. Davanti alla periferia il centro si volta dall’altra parte, ne rifiuta le ragioni e contribuisce ad indebolirne le certezze e le sicurezze in nome di uno status quo che si sceglie, perentoriamente, di non mettere in discussione.

Genere, razza e specie sono le categorie con le quali Miccichè interpreta la periferia, ma è anche grazie ad essa che la marginalizzazione di determinate categorie può essere colta nella sua complessità. Il maschilismo che soggiace all’organizzazione capitalistica del centro si traduce ai margini con esperienze che diventano chiare solo se illuminate da chi, in quei margini, è cresciuta guadagnando, volente o nolente, la prospettiva giusta. La violenza di genere in tutte le sue sfaccettature non è una prerogativa inspiegabile della periferia, ma è resa possibile e sostenuta dal centro che, separandosene consapevolmente, le permette di svilupparsi togliendole visibilità. Il razzismo che esclude da qualsiasi garanzia sociale ed economica è incluso dal centro come necessario correlato da espellere, in modo da assicurare il livello minimo di decoro richiesto per rimanere centro in quanto tale. Rimossi, referenti assenti, gli animali non umani costretti nella macchina di produzione sono confinati nella periferia, ridotti a cose per diventare oggetti di consumo, mentre il centro antropico concede appena un poco di spazio agli altri non umani, quelli che ha selezionato per sé.

Sono cresciuto in una periferia che pensavo non avesse troppo in comune con la Comasina di Miccichè e che mi ha nascosto molte delle realtà descritte in Femminismo di periferia. Oggi che da anni vivo altrove, è solo grazie a questo libro che ho imparato a vederne tutte le contraddizioni, a riconoscerne le eccedenze, a biasimarne le omissioni. Solo adesso capisco che tutto quello che mancavo di vedere era costruito per non essere visto. Solo decentrandomi ho potuto vedere il centro.

Disorderly human

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Wed, 01 Jan 2025 00:00:00 +0000

As I was reading Agustina María Bazterrica’s Cadáver Exquisito,¹ I was surprised to acknowledge my detachment from the horrific violence perpetrated against human bodies treated as edible products. Have I become so disenchanted with the reality around me that I cannot feel anything any more? Why, then, did the ending disturb me more than what came before?

The truth is Bazterrica’s book put me through a rather unpleasant ordeal. With the sole exception of a brief episode of mindless cruelty against puppies, I found myself repeatedly unmoved by passages where the processing of selected human lives into meat is described in vivid details. Yet when the final moments revealed the aberrant plan of the protagonist, I started reconsidering everything that had happened up to that point, including my feelings.

Cadáver Exquisito can be appreciated from different points of view. It’s a powerful critique of all sorts of capitalistic exploitation and a tale of cynical survivalism, both issues of the utmost relevance nowadays. Morevover, trans-feminism and anti-speciesism can help us interpret the text as a poignant metaphor of how ingrained the disregard for other’s human and non-human lives is in the self-proclaimed superior species.²

I have to admit, though, that I was a bit disappointed at first because most of the events seem to lack emotional depth. I was afraid the reader should only care about the shocking dystopia in front of them, whereas I was looking for intellectual gratification. Events are cut short, placidly placed one after the other, and descriptions are only pertinent insofar as the reader doesn’t lose track of the horror. I didn’t understand why Bazterrica is purposefully glossing over historical facts, for instance. I was craving for more information about the pandemic that created the alternative reality she’s presenting here.

However, I was wrong on multiple accounts. First of all, we experience everything in Cadáver Exquisito through Marcos Tejo’s acts and thoughts. In confining the reader to his mind Bazterrica rightly chooses only what’s necessary to render Marcos’ version of the story. The plain language Bazterrica uses is a brilliant technique to display the cognitive dissonance her protagonist needs in order to position himself at a safe distance from the flesh and blood he’s surrounded by.

Furthermore, this is precisely why the ending hit me so hard. From the very beginning Bazterrica is convincingly eroding Marcos’ privileged, reassuring position as a member of a society whose conditions of possibility he contributes to. But when Marcos reveals himself for who he actually is, every effort he has made to escape his world turns out to be a farce. Whether speciesism or capitalism are responsible for his productive and reproductive instincts, Bazterrica doesn’t tell. The system in place permeates everything around and, more importantly, within Marcos. Whatever we presumed that he was feeling about his father, his dogs, his sister or his wife is reduced to a single goal, that is ensuring the permanence of the very system he has never really been alienated from.

Once again, horror proves to be a genre capable of penetrating our reality with unconventional strength. We may refuse to accept the premises of Cadáver Exquisito because we believe in a different worldview, but we cannot avoid the unequivocal questions about our future. A future that inevitably includes our specific worldview among many others, humans’ and non-humans'.

I read the English translation titled Tender is the Flesh. ↩︎
See Valentina Greco’s Specialità umane. Una lettura posizionata di Cadavere squisito di Agustina Bazterrica in Liberazioni #58. ↩︎

My 2024

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Sun, 22 Dec 2024 00:00:00 +0000

2024 has been a mixed bag of delight, anger, frustration, joy, and disappointment. A year of questions, connections, and self-determination. There have been many beautiful things that I know I’m going to treasure, but unfortunately they didn’t come alone.

It’s fair to say then that 2024 has pushed me to reconsider many things, myself included. How far this is going to get me it’ll be next year’s real challenge.

Anonymous for the Voiceless

In terms of emotional turmoil this has to be the central experience of my 2024.

My journey with Anonymous for the Voiceless was what I needed to finally engage with activism. It also led me to meet awesome people who make me fell less alone in my resistance to a status quo that doesn’t understand how to care.

At the same time something didn’t seem quite right to me, and when everything fell apart I understood the true nature of this organisation and decided to leave.

However, I don’t intend to stop with my activism because of this sad outcome. I only need a better project to do it, so I’m exploring options.

Bluesky

Despite all my doubts and concerns I joined Bluesky last month and so far I’ve been enjoying the experience. I found a rich community of philosophers and academics sharing worthwhile content most of the time.

On the other hand, it doesn’t appear to be an entirely safe space. I also tend to get tired rather quickly with social media, especially if I feel like I’m wasting hours following nothing in particular.

Therefore when my next round-up comes I may not be on Bluesky any more.

Books

I thought over and over again about my favourite books of 2024. It hasn’t been an easy task and I already know I’ll regret leaving some great reads out.

In order to avoid any further crime, I’m going to use a basic alphabetical order to list the most relevant titles, hence no real preference will be expressed. Here we go:

Animali si diventa (Federica Timeto)
The Bell Jar (Sylvia Plath)
Calibano e la strega (Silvia Federici)
Checkout 19 (Claire-Louise Bennett)
Cospirazione animale (Marco Reggio)
Del governo degli animali (Benedetta Piazzesi)
Dialoghi sulla religione naturale (David Hume)
Elizabeth Costello (J. M. Coetzee)
Estinzione (Thomas Bernhard)
The Fortnight in September (R. C. Sherriff)
Letteratura come utopia (Ingeborg Bachmann)
Lettere dal carcere (Antonio Gramsci)
A Little Life (Hanya Yanagihara)
Malina (Ingeborg Bachmann)
Perturbamento (Thomas Bernhard)
Poesie (Paul Celan)
Under the Skin (Michael Faber)
L’uomo senza qualità (Robert Musil)

Random notes:

Ingeborg Bachmann should be a mandatory read everywhere in the world;
every book I read about non-human animals makes me a better human one;
Paul Celan will keep me busy for at least another life;
Robert Musil is the perfect excuse to avoid direct sunlight;
Claire-Louise Bennett is the right writer at the right time;
Liberazioni has become my favourite periodical.

Missing from the list are a couple of books I spent a good chunk of hours on: the first volume of Karl Marx’s Il Capitale and György Lukács’ Storia e coscienza di classe. I have yet to recover from these challenging and deeply rewarding works, but everything I’ve been learning will stay with me.

Cinema

Overall I had great times with my old passion for cinema this year. The following selection is not strictly related to 2024 films because there is always something I missed from previous years. Anyway, here it is:

All of Us Strangers (Andrew Haigh)
The Animal People (Denis Henry Hennelly, Casey Suchan)
La Bête (Bertrand Bonello)
Caught by the Tides (Jia Zhang-ke)
Challengers (Luca Guadagnino)
The Dreamed Ones (Ruth Beckermann)
Emilia Pérez (Jacques Audiard)
L’étè dernier (Catherine Breillat)
Food for Profit (Giulia Innocenzi, Paolo D’Ambrosi)
Godzilla Minus One (Takashi Yamazaki)
Here (Robert Zemeckis)
Judas And the Black Messaiah (Shaka King)
Sex (Dag Johan Haugerud)
Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In (Soi Cheang)
The Young Karl Mark (Raoul Peck)

Random notes:

nothing has come close to the devastating effect All of Us Strangers has had on me, and I won’t forget it any time soon;
Food for Profit should be a mandatory watch everywhere in the world;
sometimes a giant monster is all I need to be happy;
yes, Soi Cheang, I love Hong Kong cinema too;
if Karl Marx was as sexy as Peck’s version of him, why isn’t everyone a sworn Marxist yet?

Heart of Clojure

Beside confirming itself as the best conference I’ve ever been to, Heart of Clojure has had the perhaps unintentional side effect of forcing me to rethink my position in the IT world. I’ve been working on this ever since I got back from Leuven, but I have a long way ahead of me.

Other questions arose as well. Maybe one day I’ll come back to them with the proper state of mind and I’ll share my findings.

Music

What follows is a chart as temporary as any other, apart from the first two spots which are by miles the records I needed the most this year. Without further ado, then:

SEI ALMENO UN PO’ FELICE? (Olympia Mare)
Diamond Jubilee (Cindy Lee)
Brat (Charli XCX)
This Could Be Texas (English Teacher)
All of This Awaits You (Swami And the Bed of Nails)
stillness stop: you have a right to remember (Any Other)
Make It Fit (Karate)
Light Sides (Angie McMahon)
A Polaroid for Christmas (Memoria Polaroid)
Revival of a Friend (Sour Widows)
Searching (Staples Jr. Singers)
Where Next? (Sandwell District)

Random notes:

the deluxe edition of The Get Up Kids’s Something to Write Home About made me cry ten seconds after the vinyl started spinning;
a Marta Del Grandi’s concert proved that she is truly from another planet;
I’ve been listening to Pinegrove for an insane amount of hours in the last few months. I miss them so much.

University

There is little I can add to what I wrote already, so let me just say one thing. A younger version of myself couldn’t understand the value of studying at university. That boy had to undergo trials and errors, but he got there eventually. So much so he can’t really stop now.

To be honest in the last month I’ve had some doubts about what I really want to pursue with my studies. I’ll come back to this as soon as my mind is clear. For now, I see interesting paths in front of me.

Anonymous for the so what

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Sat, 30 Nov 2024 00:00:00 +0000

Not long after I questioned myself and my assumptions about Anonymous for the Voiceless (AV from now on), chaos ensued among the Italian organising team. This is incredibly fascinating.

The situation is rather foggy at the moment. Most of the people are preparing themselves to leave AV behind, but so far, to the extent of my knowledge, there have only been meetings and heated discussions. Some of the activists I’ve talked to agree with me that something has to change, because whatever is going on hints to a toxic environment we don’t want to be a part of any more.

I don’t intend to indulge in personal attacks and random witch hunting. My doubts and concerns about AV were already there, way before the last few days of rage and desperation. From where I stand I have a limited point of view anyway, so it’s impossible to point at official culprits with absolute certainty. Nor do I need to, to be honest.

What is really important to me is how everything I’ve read about AV since the moment I started questioning it has been turning out to be true. For instance, the lack of a clear communication on how the money is managed tells a lot about the level of consideration AV has for the activists in the streets. In a recent online meeting I was reminded of the top-down hierarchy behind AV as something I am supposed to silently agree with in the name of the greater good. My refusal to act as a grovelling sycophant was deemed aggressive and unhelpful. To be fair, yes, I reacted with loud anger, but I cannot suffer obsequious smiles and selfish connivance. This, more than anything else, caused my outburst.

And yet I wasn’t expecting the proverbial shit storm I’ve witnessed in the following days. But again, I’m not interested in the gory details behind a fight of egos. The fact that there is a fight in the first place matters here. Since this doesn’t look like a disagreement that can be solved with rational discussions, all of it is just the surface of a deeper problem within AV with which nobody around me has ever wanted to engage before.

Not that I can be excused here. When I joined AV, I too was impressed by their online videos. Driven by the righteousness of the cause for non-human animal liberation, I complied and accepted their modus operandi without paying too much attention at what was going on behind the shiny facade. Now I can only wish I had started the questioning of my actions and those of AV sooner.

On the flip side, there is a valuable lesson for me here. Every form of activism I am embracing from now on needs to be closely examined before I start. I need to avoid assumptions and compromises. I need core values aligned to my own. I need honesty and proper cooperation. I need people on a common ground, not arguably benevolent dictators and obliging pawns.

A space in question

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Mon, 11 Nov 2024 00:00:00 +0000

Only by imagining the impossible will it be possible to transform the unacceptable.

— Paul B. Preciado¹

The day I acknowledged I wasn’t doing enough for what I believe in, I didn’t really weigh my options thoroughly. I knew I had to leave my desk and move beyond learning about non-human animals liberation from books, that much was clear. But it doesn’t mean I stopped reading on the subject. I never do.

Soon after joining Anonymous for the Voiceless (AV from now on), I found plenty of criticism concerning this organisation. This criticism is easy to look up, so I won’t point you to sources which may or may not be out of date when you read this, and I’ll also let you decide what to do with it. I for one think it’s necessary to question everything I do and reasoning about the meaning and value of my actions, which includes how I choose my activism to be. As much as I understand the limits and the problems of AV, however, I know in it I have a space where I’m finally able to accept myself for who I am.

This is not to say that the criticism I read did not make me reconsider my position. Nevertheless, the only way for any criticism to be effective is for it to come from within the boundaries of its object, that is where context matters. From there change can be highlighted, pushed forward, and eventually become reality. Otherwise we are only pointing fingers and shouting, something that won’t lead us very far any time soon.

And yet I do believe something has to change in AV if it wants to take non-human animals liberation seriously. If it doesn’t change, if it isn’t open to discussing its assumptions and opts to stand still, then nothing is ever going to happen. Again, context matters. Without the proper context, criticism may fall short. But without the proper context, AV is missing the broader spectrum of the fight it wants to be a part of.

This goes back to the limits I see in this organisation. The core of its approach is the so-called outreach, which is a way for us to engage passers-by in a conversation about the images of carnage we display. AV defines a protocol that activists must follow in order for the outreach to be successful. But what does it really mean for an outreach to be claimed as successful?

Much as any other activist in AV, I too watched its online workshops to understand what I was supposed to do in the street. One thing I’ve always found rather peculiar in these videos is the confrontational attitude that members of AV use during outreaches. Most of the time I saw activists orchestrating the exchange with their interlocutor like it was a debate they already knew how to win. Is winning a debate the point of the outreach, then?

Conducting yourself in this way can be off-putting or unreasonably intimidating for the person in front you, and thus eventually ineffectual. It also ignores the context from which that specific person comes. By treating everyone consuming animal products as one abstract, undeniably guilty entity, we are missing the opportunity to actually listen and understand each and every person there with us. We are, in fact, missing everything that is worth discussing, which is a scope much larger than that of an individual experience. We are missing what makes it possible, how it is put into place, and why it is exactly the way it is.

At the same time, I believe AV places me as an activist in an interesting position. Whenever I start a conversation with someone who stops to look at our screens, I’m grateful for the time this stranger is taking out of their life to at least, and perhaps unconsciously, accept that something is not right. I consider their willingness to sustain the horror an opportunity and not a challenge. This is our starting point, theirs and mine. From here, we can try to build something. We can become aware of power structures we have never considered before, we can question our biases, we can try to look at our society from the point of view of the non-human animals we trapped in it. It’s not about winning an argument, for me. It’s about normalising together the work towards an argument for a better world.

But AV has also shown me something I wasn’t prepared for. Not to this extent anyway. Our local chapter has introduced me to amazing people who never stop encouraging each other. When activism becomes tiring, demanding, disheartening, as it can be when everyone else seems to think the opposite, they’re always there to pick me up. They remind me of our purpose just by being who they are, they embrace me as one of them without asking anything in return. In the small town where I live, chances to meet people like these are not that many, and I can never underestimate a thing this precious. We are a group that moves as one not because rules force us together. We stand together as one because we all share the same sparkle. We want change. We want liberation.

My only wish is for AV to one day realise that unless liberation comes for everyone, nobody will truly be free.

From the introduction to the Italian edition of Terror anal. (Translation mine) ↩︎

My first Cube of Truth

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Tue, 23 Apr 2024 06:12:50 +0000

Last Sunday I joined the nearest local chapter of Anonymous for the Voiceless, after many nudges from my better half who has been a member for quite a while now. As I have already written in the past, it is about time I put my thoughts into action. What does it mean to be in a Cube of Truth, though? More importantly, what does it mean to finally act as an activist?

A Cube of Truth is a simple and yet powerful way to engage in street activism. Activists wearing anonymous masks hold screens (television sets, laptops, etc.) big enough to display footage coming from slaughterhouses, farms, and all sorts of practices that exploit and abuse non-human animals. It is called cube because, given enough activists, we form a cube-resembling shape,¹ usually alternating screens with cardboard panels containing only one word: truth. Otherwise, we do what we can as long as the images speak for themselves. When passers-by stop and watch for more than just few seconds the bloodbath we display, activists outside the Cube, not wearing masks, start the so called outreach, which means they engage in a conversation about the relationship between the images on the screens and the temporary spectator’s own responsibilities.

From there anything can happen, and that is why I was not sure that this was the right thing to do for me. I have always been horribly shy and I tend to keep to myself when in public. Or so I believed. As soon as it was my turn to approach a by-stander something clicked. It was as if the only thing that mattered was reasoning calmly about my purpose for being there, respecting the person’s opinions while slowly eroding their confidence with the cruel reality of animal suffering. The key was always making my listener understand that as long as they do not act differently they are accountable for what is happening on the screens. I even surprised myself when I was able to control the tone of my reactions and the words I was using. I guess I have to thank my years at Ca' Foscari university for this, because I am pretty sure I would not have been able to do it otherwise.²

On the other hand, I was luckier than other activists. I shadowed some of them in order to learn from their experience, and after seeing them dealing with arrogant kids and obnoxious trolls not only I admired their patience, but I also asked myself: what if I were to be caught in that sort of discussions? Were they serious discussions or just distractions from real work? I saw an important lesson for me to take away there, which is learning when to halt the conversation and move on. If there is someone eager to listen and curious enough to question their own beliefs and customs, then the discussion is going somewhere and maybe there is a chance that they will rethink their actions sooner rather than later or, worse, never.

Moreover, contrary to what I usually think of myself this has led me to believe that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I can speak up for what I value, I can defend my opinion, and I can offer an alternative, reasonable point of view to people in real life, right there in the street. This is where my words have a meaning that feels tangible. This is where I belong.

More of a square, if you ask me, but let us not get into geometry right now. ↩︎
Angry replies seem like yesterday when I think about it. And of course, the angrier I got, the less I was making sense. ↩︎

It exists therefore I am

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Mon, 01 Apr 2024 07:12:50 +0000

Setting reason aside is not something we welcome gladly, is it? After all, acting according to feelings is acting irrationally, and if we open that door we are going to let in the possibility of regrets and sorrow as well. Since we do not always feel ready to face regrets and sorrow, we prefer applying our mind on every worthwhile occasion. Or so we believe. Why do we act like we must reduce everything to reason, anyway?

John M. Coetzee taught me that it is impossible to subject the richness of our everyday experience to the rules of reason alone. He did so through one of his most beautiful and complex characters, one whose presence by now is almost tangible to me: Elizabeth Costello. And as it often happens with the best things in one’s life, Coetzee and Costello entered mine by chance, that is by way of a casual mention during a course at my university which set off the same irrational drive that led me to Ingeborg Bachmann.

Elizabeth Costello is an elderly Australian woman, a renown writer whose fame, contrary to her will, is an outcome of the success of one of her early novels. Over the course of Coetzee’s book, she is invited to give speeches on a wide range of topics around the world. She complies, even though her distress is something she will not overcome easily. Eventually, she will have to deal with the consequences of her words, standing by her opinions, and questioning her own beliefs.

As in other Coetzee’s works, taking into account the existence of non-human animals and how we live with and next to them is unavoidable. Coetzee’s ethics are much too complex for me to deal with right now,¹ so I will just single out a passage from Elizabeth Costello which I would like to expand upon.

Both reason and seven decades of life experience tell me that reason is neither the being of the universe nor the being of God. On the contrary, reason looks to me suspiciously like the being of human thought; worse than that, like the being of one tendency in human thought. Reason is the being of a certain spectrum of human thinking. And if this is so, if that is what I believe, then why should I bow to reason this afternoon and content myself with embroidering on the discourse of the old philosophers.²

I do not think that I could find better words to explain why, as I am close to get my BA in Philosophy, I am struggling to cope with some of what I have learnt so far.

Do not get me wrong, I value my time at Ca’ Foscari and there is no end to what opening my mind to philosophy has done to me.³ And yet I wish I had known Coetzee and Costello back when I was following a course on moral philosophy. It has been more than two years since that exam, but I have never been able to shake off the feeling of contempt it has left on me, its questionable attempt at winning students over to a specific worldview. It became even clearer a couple of months after the exam, but obvious hints triggered me way before that.

More specifically, while discussing the role of the human soul in Aquinas, the professor decided to share his opinion on animal rights. He did so by oversimplifying his arguments against the likes of Tom Regan and Peter Singer, while talking about animal rights movements without acknowledging how they have evolved since they were first born. It was baffling to notice how conveniently he avoided any practical matter. Why should we care about intensive farming and moral justifications for hunting when we can sit down and discuss about the human soul from the comfort of our classroom?

This whole approach served his purpose rather well. Eventually, he singled out the possibility of reasoning about infinity as humans’ defining trait. Human life, he added, follows an arc trajectory, open to the transcendental, whereas animals’ is a cycle. And so what? How is that even relevant when one looks a bit more closely at how humans have been treating animals over the course of history? More importantly, how is his discourse of any relevance to the lives of non-human animals?

I put forward my opinion to the teacher’s assistant during a seminar, but the conversation was cut short because, I can only assume, he sensed no way out from the circularity of his arguments. Are we not to be held accountable when we decide of the lives of other living beings? Is human reason so peculiar that it can be excused from thinking about the implications of all our actions and not just the ones we deem worth of moral judgements? Who are we to decide what is morally justifiable to do to living beings we share our lives with?

I believe philosophy must teach us how to live in a world greater than us. We exist only because the world exists, not the other way around. We are born humans, we argue with humans, but we find more than humans out there. If we are still discussing the human soul and otherness in human terms, then we still have to move past the old philosophers Elizabeth Costello refers to.

I suggest starting with J. M. Coetzee and Ethics to get a general idea. ↩︎
Coetzee, Elizabeth Costello, p. 67. ↩︎
As I wrote other times, I will return to my experience at Ca’ Foscari later this year. ↩︎

Food for Profit

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Tue, 26 Mar 2024 06:50:50 +0000

Last night, as I was walking out of the cinema where I had just watched Food for Profit, I could not help but think about the people around me. It is pretty easy to say that maybe I am not the kind of person Innocenzi’s and D’Ambrosi’s documentary aims at. Why would I need an investigation such as this to move me towards ethical choices that by now I have already been following for over ten years? And yet, beside supporting this much too necessary endeavor, I was curious to sit in a room with other people and sense the impact its images would have on eyes possibly not accustomed to the reality of intensive farming.

Let me start by simply saying that if one cares in any way about the world we live in, then they should not ignore this work. Furthermore, at the moment in Italy it is nearly impossible not to find a screening. Its authors have been literally reaching every corner of this country to make sure everyone has a chance to see the results of their five-year long effort. Considering that this is an independent film which relies on word of mouth, because big producers and giant distributors have no interest in alienating the meat industry, Innoncenzi’s and D’Ambrosi’s willingness to share what they believe in is absolutely remarkable.

However, I had my misconceptions about the film. Somehow I was expecting it to be solely criticism about European agricultural politics, as if the whole point of the documentary was to expose politicians not behaving as one would suppose, which would have been barely a surprise nowadays. This is only a part of what Innoncenzi and D’Ambrosi do, though. They cannot and do not want to hide the inevitable consequences of what some inept members of the European Parliament agree upon. Animal suffering, diseases, environmental disasters, exploitation of workers: it is all here in its vivid, horrific evidence.

After what I learnt from Earthlings and Dominion, I should be used to mindless violence, but the shock always manages to unsettle me, just as it always takes me a moment to recover from the fact that we seem incapable of treating animals and other people with the same principles of humanity we believe to have perfected over the course of history. Food for Profit acts as a powerful reminder of how we constantly and comfortably forget those principles in order to enjoy privileges that we choose not to question. As Innocenzi said to us at the end of the screening, we usually expect documentaries such as this from the US. It is about time Europe comes to terms with the same atrocities that we like to think are far way from us.

This is what one should really focus on as they watch the film. I can hardly trust critics who pick at Innoncenzi for posing herself in a sort of egocentric, Michael Moore-like kind of way.¹ On the contrary, I believe that she needs to put herself right within these images and back them as strongly as she can. She has every right to use her public persona to engage with viewers, because I do not see this work as art for art’s sake, nor I see any point in approaching it with the dissecting eye of a film critic. There is simply too much at stake in this documentary to look at it with questionable, rational detachment or reductionist arguments.

And this is why last night I found people’s reactions more honest and important than any critique. We were all shaken by the cruelty and the indifference we had witnessed, but I was genuinely surprised by the sincere concern many showed at the end. Innocenzi kindly replied to all the questions, most of which dealt with what can we do now, what is actually feasible and what, if any, are the hopes for a better world. If one, like me, finds it really difficult to believe that the planet and whoever lives on it can put up with human actions any longer, people’s response to Food for Profit will be enough to placate the heart for a while.

See Matteo Marelli’s “review” on FilmTv. The cheap scepticism used to dismiss the actual point of Food for Profit tells me more about Marelli than the film itself. ↩︎

World Vegan Day

manuel.uberti@mailbox.org (Manuel Uberti) — Wed, 01 Nov 2023 00:00:00 +0000

It has been almost 10 years since I turned to a vegan lifestyle, but I have never written much about this choice here. Partly because I tend not to advertise my beliefs unless explicitly asked, and partly because I expect people to be able to look up for themselves what being vegan means and why it matters.

However, I do feel like this is an important cause I have not been doing enough for so far. It is true that my choice means one less person out there eating meat and dairy products, but is it really enough? Believing in something implies standing up for it, and I have never stood up for anything remotely this necessary in my life before.

To celebrate World Vegan Day I would like to share some helpful resources one could peruse to understand why a change of diet is a crucial step in the right direction and why much more could be done for a far better world.

Anonymous for the Voiceless

The not-for-profit animal rights organisation Anonymous for the Voiceless discusses veganism and animal exploitation directly on the streets. They collected some videos over at The Essential Videos and being fooled by a click-bait title such as Best Speech You Will Ever Hear makes total sense for once.

ADAPTT

Following the above mentioned video one could visit the ADAPTT website and begin their journey at Becoming a New Vegan. There is useful information everywhere on this website, so be sure to check out other pages as well.

Earthlings

A key part in my move to veganism and why I consider it the most rational choice I have ever made was Earthlings, a devastating close look at animal exploitation. This is an eye-opener for anyone who prefers to turn away from violence on animals while accepting it for illogical reasons.

LAV

What I like about LAV is the extent of their operations, the legal actions they are willing to pursue, the campaigns they constantly promote, their coordinated efforts day after day for the sake of animals. LAV is for Italians only, but one can refer to PETA for a somewhat similar approach.

This is of course only a selection of places one can have easily access to, not to mention people to get in touch with, in order to learn about different choices and alternative consequences. It does not take much to dig up more with a decent search engine.

I firmly believe we all can live a better lifestyle if we base our actions on caring, a feeling more relevant now than it has possibly ever been. When we care the world makes much more sense. With this powerful feeling within, every action makes much more sense as well.

Perhaps she would not have thought of evil as a state so rare, so abnormal, so exotic, one in which it was so refreshing to sojourn, had she been able to discern in herself, as in everyone else, that indifference to the sufferings one causes which, whatever other names one gives it, is the most terrible and lasting form of cruelty.

— In Search of Lost Time, Marcel Proust