Cardinal Matteo Maria Zuppi with Enrico Mentana - The present of Ukraine, the future of all of us.

Ukraine's War and the Mirror to Our Future. Imagine living in an era where dystopias are no longer confined to movies or novels, but are unfolding around us—climate change, the dizzying rise of artificial intelligence, and now, war on European soil. In a powerful conversation set in a historic Italian hall, two leading voices—one from the world of faith and the other from journalism—invite us to examine not just the war in Ukraine, but how its tremors reach into the hopes, values, and fractures of our entire society. For many, especially those born after World War II, peace in Europe felt like a permanent conquest. Democracy, international cooperation, and the slow but steady march toward equality seemed unshakable. Yet, the ongoing conflict in Ukraine has shattered that certainty, exposing how fragile our collective achievements really are. War, once thought to be a relic of the past, now sits uncomfortably close, reminding us that the lessons of history can fade if not continually nurtured. The discussion delves into why we've normalized distant conflicts, but find it hard to accept one so close to home. It's not just about geography; it's about the realization that our institutions, values, and sense of unity need constant maintenance. The conversation draws a parallel between the upkeep of a bridge and the vigilance required to safeguard peace, democracy, and human dignity. When we neglect this “maintenance,” divisions, localism, and old prejudices resurface, threatening to unravel decades of progress. A striking theme emerges: the crisis of memory and the danger of forgetting. As the generation who witnessed the horrors of the last world war fades, the responsibility to keep those lessons alive grows heavier. Without active remembrance, the door opens to indifference, racism, and an erosion of the principles that once united Europe. The speakers urge that values are not trophies to be locked away, but living commitments we must rediscover and embody, especially in times of crisis. Religion's role is examined not as a private refuge, but as a force that can inspire a renewed sense of “us.” The Christian roots of Europe's founding vision are evoked—not to exclude, but to underline that true faith demands engagement with the common good. Belief and laïcité, they argue, are not adversaries but partners in building a society that cares for all, believers and nonbelievers alike. Zooming in on Ukraine, the conversation moves from grand principles to painful realities. The war is not a simple contest of equals, but an invasion, a clear case of an aggressor and a victim. Here, the possibility of peace is explored—not as naïve optimism, but as a demanding, costly hope that requires courage, dialogue, and the active involvement of the international community. The Church's humanitarian efforts are highlighted, especially the struggle to alleviate the suffering of families and children torn apart by conflict. In the end, the discussion turns personal. How do ordinary people resist the seductive logic of “us versus them,” whether in war or in debates over migration? The answer is a call to integrate heart, mind, and hands—to think, to feel, and to act. True faith and true citizenship are measured by the refusal to be mere spectators, by the willingness to work for justice and reconciliation, and by the ongoing effort to repair the bonds that war and fear have broken. This conversation is more than a reflection on Ukraine; it's a challenge to rethink our own roles in shaping the present and future. In a time when it's easy to retreat into isolation or passive observation, we are reminded that peace, solidarity, and shared humanity are not givens—they are tasks for each of us, as urgent now as ever.