The first European head of state to oppose, in a direct and structured manner, the imperial project taking shape since the new Silicon Valley entered the White House with Donald Trump is an 83-year-old Sicilian Christian Democrat.

The President of the Italian Republic, Sergio Mattarella, delivered a speech today in Marseille in which he denounced the “happy vassalization.”

In Meloni’s Italy, at a time when the President of the Council seems increasingly aligned with Trump and Musk, the Quirinale sought to draw clear red lines by posing a structural question: “Does Europe intend to be the object of international rivalry, a zone of influence for others, or instead become a subject of international politics, affirming the values of its own civilization? Can it accept being caught between oligarchies and autocracies?”

Sergio Mattarella set a course: “At most, with the prospect of a ‘happy vassalization,’ we must choose: to be ‘protected’ or to be ‘protagonists’?”

Elaborating on the concept of techno-caesarism, he warned of “the emergence of the new neo-feudal lords of the third millennium — these new privateers to whom patents can be attributed — who aspire to be entrusted with lordships in the public sphere and to manage parts of the commons represented by cyberspace and outer space, becoming almost usurpers of democratic sovereignty.”

It is not the first time the President of the Republic has sharply criticized Elon Musk.
In November, Mattarella had firmly responded to a campaign by the owner of X, who questioned the independence of the Italian judiciary after a Roman court refused to validate the transfer of migrants to Albania.

In a statement unusually strong for the often highly institutional communications from the Quirinale, the President of the Italian Republic reminded that “Italy is a great democratic country […] that knows how to take care of itself,” and denounced any foreign interference, referring to Musk’s expected role as an advisor under the Trump administration: “Anyone, especially if, as announced, they are about to assume an important government role in a friendly and allied country, must respect its sovereignty and cannot presume to issue directives to it.”

In response to this particularly firm stance, Musk sent a message to the ANSA agency affirming his respect for Mattarella and the Italian Constitution, while defending his right to freedom of expression.

Is this proof that — as Mike Tyson would have said — “everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth”?

Mr. President of the University,
Mr. Rector of the Academy,
Mr. Dean of the Faculty of Law and Political Science,
Mr. Director of the Institut Portalis,
Ladies and Gentlemen, Deans and Professors,
Dear Students,

It is truly a privilege for me to receive the honorary doctorate from this prestigious university, one of the leading academic institutions in France.

I would like to thank the President, Professor Eric Berton, Professor Jean-Baptiste Perrier, Dean of the Faculty of Law and Political Science, and the entire academic staff and personnel. I would also like to express my gratitude for your daily commitment to the dissemination of knowledge.

France and Italy enjoy a relationship of geographical, cultural, and civil proximity that constitutes a valuable asset on which friendly states can rely in the geopolitical landscape, especially at this moment in time. The Quirinal Treaty has recently confirmed this.

Marseille, in turn, embodies the full expression of this: it is the emblem and the layering of the Mediterranean civilization that unites us. A Mediterranean that has connected peoples since antiquity, and which today is not without its critical aspects.

I acknowledge the Student Conference COP4 which, in the coming days, will focus on the Mediterranean crisis, a sign of the awareness of the younger generations.

Friendship and closeness also mean shared responsibility and commitment to face challenges of such alarming proportions.

A university like this one, where we study history and law in order to have the tools to understand and manage the present and the future, is the right place to reflect on the state of international relations and on the state of the order our countries have helped to define.

Allow me to continue in Italian.

The above words were spoken in French by the President of the Italian Republic. From this point on, the text is translated from Italian.

An international order that, like all social contracts and all political structures, reaffirms its function and confirms its stability if it is nourished by commitment, developing the ability to listen, adapt, and cooperate in the face of emerging phenomena.

History, particularly that of the twentieth century, has taught us that this order is a dynamic entity, subject to balances that are, of course, not immune to political tensions and economic changes.

Often, the imbalances that arise have distant roots: in the aftermath of past conflicts. Or they correspond to the impulses and ambitions of actors who believe they can play the game under new and more favorable conditions: the waning limiting effect of potential reactions from the international community in the past, and the emergence of growing disillusionment with the mechanisms of cooperation in crisis management. These instruments were created to respond to the uncontrollable pressure to reopen situations that had previously been resolved diplomatically.

The life of the institutions that emerged in the decades following the Second World War, marked by sudden setbacks and disappointments, has unfortunately not been able to demonstrate all of its potential effectiveness.

The use of vetoes within the Security Council has on several occasions prevented the UN from deploying its peacekeeping efforts, but nevertheless, what it has been able to achieve has been a great success.

Its critics often forget, among other things, its crucial role in the decolonization process or in the development of a regulatory framework to curb military escalation and promote disarmament.

When considering the future of the international order, it is essential to recall the sequence of events, actions, and inactions that led to the tragedy of the Second World War, in the face of the geopolitical uncertainties that characterize our world today.

History is not meant to be slavishly repeated. But we never stop learning from the mistakes made throughout it.

The global economic crisis of 1929 shook the foundations of the world economy and fueled a spiral of protectionism and unilateralism as alliances eroded. Free trade has always been an element of understanding and connection. Many states failed to understand the need to face this crisis in a coherent manner, relying solely on visions inherited from the 19th century, focusing on the national dimension, and depending at most on the resources of enslaved peoples abroad.

Authoritarian phenomena then took hold in some countries, lured by the myth that despotic and illiberal regimes were more effective at protecting national interests.

The result was the emergence of an increasingly conflictual —rather than cooperative— environment, despite the awareness that problems needed to be tackled and resolved on a larger scale. Instead of cooperation, the criterion of domination prevailed. And the era of wars of conquest was reopened.

This was the Third Reich’s plan for Europe.
Today’s Russian aggression against Ukraine is of this very nature.
We are also witnessing the return of protectionism. Just a few days ago in Davos, the President of the European Commission reminded us that global trade barriers had tripled in value in 2024 alone.

The economic crisis, protectionism, mistrust among global actors, and the imposition of voluntary rules dealt a definitive blow to the League of Nations, created after the First World War—already compromised by the non-participation of the United States, which, under President Wilson, had been one of its key initiators.

For the United States, this meant giving in to the temptation of isolationism. But the work of the League was not in vain: we owe it, for example, the Convention on Slavery, which sought to abolish the slave trade—and this was in 1926.

In the fragile context of the interwar years, marked by a grim rise in nationalism, alarming trends of rearmament, and competition among states—according to the logic of spheres of influence—there were about twenty cases of withdrawal from the League of Nations.

Germany, with Hitler in the Chancellery, withdrew in 1933. Japan did the same. Italy also withdrew in 1937. These last two countries—along with France, the British Empire, and Germany itself—were permanent members of the League of Nations Council.

Collaboration: Le Grand Continent.
© FRANCESCO AMMENDOLA/UFFICIO PER LA STAMPA E LA COMUNICAZIONE DELLA PRESIDENZA DELLA REPUBBLICA