Andrea Grimandi

Impartiality is an uncommon approach to life. It involves analyzing situations rationally and applying clear, well-defined principles fairly and consistently. However, contrary to common perception, it does not mean always emotional indifference or complete neutrality. If guided by benevolent values, this outlook uses reason to protect life and maintain social order rather than allowing personal emotions or prejudices to dictate one’s actions.

Take a look at Jean-Luc Picard from *Star Trek* and Master Yoda from *Star Wars*. Those are good examples of this balanced and compassionate disposition. Picard demonstrates it when he defends Data’s rights in “The Measure of a Man,” refusing to let Starfleet treat him as property, and when he seeks peaceful understanding between opposing cultures rather than rushing to judgment. Yoda expresses a similar attitude by teaching Luke to control fear, anger, and hatred, emphasizing patience, self-discipline, and a broader understanding of the consequences of one’s actions.

In human society, this philosophy should promote dialogue, mutual understanding, and peaceful conflict resolution. It recognizes that the truth rarely lies entirely on one side and that better solutions often emerge when people are willing to listen to one another. The purpose is not simply to avoid taking sides, but to understand a situation as fully as possible before reaching a fair and constructive judgment. A good example that illustrates this principle is the worldwide effort to explore space, in which countries cooperate toward a single noble goal: expanding knowledge for the benefit of humanity (setting financial interests aside, of course)

This way of thinking has many positive effects. It encourages people to assess information without being unduly influenced by preconceived notions, personal relationships, or emotional pressure. It promotes equal treatment and encourages decisions based on relevant facts and merit rather than favoritism. In this way, such an outlook can challenge systemic prejudice, promote equality, and contribute to a fairer society by creating an atmosphere in which different perspectives can be expressed and discussed openly. This calm and sincere approach encourages cooperation, understanding, and peace. By focusing on solving problems rather than assigning blame, it can also help people form strong and meaningful relationships across different backgrounds.

In everyday situations, several common behaviors can be harmful to human society. One of the most important is insisting on being right instead of seeking the truth. For example, during a disagreement at work, someone may focus on proving that a colleague made a mistake rather than examining the problem itself. This can damage trust and prevent an effective solution. A fairer approach would acknowledge that both people may have incomplete information, examine the facts, and prioritize correcting the mistake over protecting personal pride. Another harmful behavior is refusing to listen to opposing viewpoints. For instance, two neighbors might disagree about how to handle noise in their building. If each person dismisses the other’s concerns, the conflict may become personal and escalate. By listening carefully, they might discover that both have legitimate needs and agree on a practical compromise. Impartiality does not require accepting every opinion as correct; it requires giving relevant perspectives a fair earing before reaching a judgment. A further example is judging all foreigners living in a country as “evil” or dangerous because a small number of individuals from that group have committed harmful acts. This kind of reasoning unfairly attributes the actions of a few to an entire population, ignoring the many people who live peacefully, work, study, and contribute positively to society. A better approach would be to judge individuals according to their own behavior and character rather than their nationality or group identity. This would help reduce prejudice worldwide, encourage social trust, and ensure that people are treated fairly while those who commit wrongdoing are still held responsible for their actions. Of course, the topic of immigration and foreign presence in countries is extremely complex, and this example serves only a functional purpose to illustrate the principle of impartial judgment. Last but not least, treating neutrality as an excuse to ignore suffering or injustice is also damaging. If someone witnesses a vulnerable person being bullied but refuses to intervene because they do not want to “take sides” their inaction allows the harm to continue. Benevolent impartiality would involve examining the situation fairly, recognizing who is being harmed, and taking reasonable action to protect them. Fairness is not the same as standing passively between the victim and the aggressor. By rejecting these behaviors, impartiality encourages humility, careful judgment, and compassion. It helps people look beyond personal pride, group loyalty, and emotional reactions while still giving them the moral courage to oppose injustice. In this sense, good impartiality is not cold or passive; it is a disciplined commitment to truth, fairness, and the protection of human life.

However, it is equally important to recognize the dangers when impartiality is taken to an extreme. When this mindset degenerates into apathy, emotional detachment, or pure functionalism, it can become harmful to human society. Relationships, communities, and meaningful connections thrive on empathy, emotional investment, and the willingness to care deeply about others. A person who remains perpetually neutral may avoid conflict but also miss opportunities for genuine intimacy, solidarity, and mutual support. It's not suppressing emotions or treating people as abstract entities to be analyzed rather than human beings to be understood and cared for. The risk is that excessive detachment can lead to a society where efficiency is valued over compassion, where problems are solved but people are not truly helped, and where the warmth that makes life worth living is gradually extinguished.

A Norwegian expression says: “Ingen er bedre enn andre; alle er like mye verdt,” meaning, “No one is better than anyone else; everyone is equally valuable.” This idea reinforces the belief that a person’s dignity should not depend on social status, wealth, nationality, intelligence, or personal success. It does not mean that everyone has the same abilities or that all actions deserve the same recognition; rather, it means that every human being deserves to be treated with equal respect and fairness, judging actions and ideas carefully while recognizing the equal value of the people who hold them.

// Free will

At the beginning of the 19th century, the French scientist Pierre-Simon Laplace proposed a thought experiment now known as "Laplace's Demon": if there existed an intelligence capable of knowing the position and velocity of every single atom in the universe at a given instant, and possessed the capacity to analyze such data, the future and the past would be laid out before its eyes like an open book. In this scenario, free will is an illusion. If every choice we make is the result of chemical interactions in the brain, and every interaction is determined by immutable physical laws, then the action you will take five minutes from now is already written in the initial conditions of the Big Bang. We would be, in practice, mere cogs in an immense mechanical clock. But can we be certain that this vision is correct?

Anyone who has studied physics knows that the laws of classical (or Newtonian) mechanics are, in principle, reversible. This allows us to calculate and observe with extreme precision, in both temporal directions, trajectories, planetary orbits, and even meteorological or volcanic simulations. However, at the time of the publication of Newton's Principia and the formulation of Laplace's hypothesis, it was not yet known that matter was not composed exclusively of "corpuscles"—tiny solid spheres with defined trajectories—but also possessed a wave-like nature. This revolutionary perspective, which views the particle also as a wave, was theorized by Louis de Broglie and subsequently formalized mathematically by Erwin Schrödinger.

This new conception of matter gave rise to the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. Werner Heisenberg demonstrated that, at the quantum level, there is a fundamental and insurmountable limit to the precision with which we can know the state of a particle. Specifically, it is impossible to simultaneously and absolutely determine both the position and the velocity of a particle. The link to the wave-like nature is direct: since a particle behaves like a wave, it does not occupy a single precise point in space, but is distributed across a region of probability (this was the first time the concept of probability was introduced into physics). If we attempt to "force" the particle into an exact point to satisfy the requirements of Laplace's Demon, we inevitably alter its velocity in an unpredictable way.

Thus, Laplace's house of cards collapses. The Demon becomes incapable of knowing the past and the future because it cannot obtain the exact starting data: it is impossible because that is simply how nature is constructed. The universe, therefore, is not a mechanical clock where everything is predetermined, but a system governed by chance and probabilities. Albert Einstein famously remarked, while debating with Niels Bohr—his intellectual rival, though he esteemed him deeply as a scientist—"God does not play dice with the universe," to which Bohr replied, "Stop telling God what to do." Indeed, Einstein remained very reluctant to accept this new reality.

If matter itself, at its most elementary level, possesses this margin of uncertainty, then a fundamental question arises: could this "void" of determinism be the space in which our free will resides? If the universe does not know with certainty where an electron will be in one second, perhaps it is not even written what we will decide in the next instant.*

// Nuclear power

Nuclear energy: yes or no? It always seems so simple, as if a straight answer were enough for every question. Unfortunately — or, in my view, fortunately — things are always much more complex than that. That is precisely where the difference lies between extreme idealism and pragmatism. I find this topic not only fascinating because of the value it can bring to the planet, but also useful for understanding how people think. Since nuclear fission energy first emerged, there have been only two disasters classified at the highest level of severity: one with a devastating impact (Chernobyl) and the other with a much more contained direct health impact (Fukushima), alongside the Three Mile Island incident, which caused no casualties but profoundly shaped public perception. Nevertheless, these tragedies have, in my opinion, been heavily exploited throughout history for propaganda purposes or personal gain. As usual, nothing new under the sun, right? This psychological dimension won’t be addressed here, so let's focus directly on the topic of nuclear energy.

Nuclear fission energy is one of the most debated topics when discussing our energy future. On one hand, it instills fear because it is associated with accidents, radiation, and radioactive waste; on the other, many view it as one of the few power sources capable of generating vast amounts of electricity with extremely low carbon dioxide emissions. For this reason, nuclear power should not be approached with slogans, but with data, debate, and awareness. I believe the most critical consideration is the health of living beings on this planet. Looking at the data for deaths per unit of electricity produced, coal is the deadliest source, followed by oil and natural gas. By comparison, nuclear fission, wind, hydropower, and solar are significantly safer. Estimates show that nuclear energy causes about 99.8% fewer deaths than coal, with wind and solar recording similar or even lower figures. Hydropower tells a slightly different story, as its statistical mortality rate is higher primarily due to isolated historic catastrophes — such as the Vajont Dam disaster on October 9, 1963, in Italy, or the Banqiao Dam collapse in 1975 in China —, even though modern facilities remain exceptionally safe.

This brings us to the comparison with renewable energy. Nuclear fission and renewables are often pitted against each other, but they actually share a common goal: reducing our reliance on fossil fuels. Renewables are essential, but they have a major limitation: their output is intermittent and not always dispatchable. Nuclear fission, by contrast, can provide steady and reliable baseload power, supporting and balancing the electrical grid as renewables grow. That is why many view nuclear fission not merely as a transition fuel, but as a long-term complementary pillar. It may not be the single silver bullet for the entire energy crisis, but it serves as a reliable and durable bridge to slash emissions while energy storage systems, smarter grids, and higher shares of renewables continue to develop. From this perspective, nuclear power does not replace the energy transition: it accompanies it.

Another intriguing topic is nuclear fusion, which is frequently discussed as an alternative to fission. While not the central focus of this essay, fusion is essentially the process of merging light atomic nuclei. It could one day offer vast amounts of energy with the added benefit of producing no long-lived high-level waste, while offering inherent safety. The key point, however, is that fusion remains an experimental technology under development. Put simply, it is roughly what happens at the core of stars.

Returning to conventional nuclear fission reactors, several myths need debunking. Fission is often perceived as 'inevitably' dangerous, yet major past accidents highlighted the flaws of outdated design philosophies and risk management, ultimately driving a complete overhaul of global safety standards. Chernobyl was the result of a recklessly conducted test, human error, and severe design flaws in the Soviet RBMK reactor, compounded by technical incompetence among parts of the staff. Fukushima, on the other hand, was triggered by an unprecedented tsunami that flooded the emergency diesel generators dedicated to cooling the fuel. In both cases, these events demonstrated the absolute necessity of system redundancy and extreme weather preparedness. Naturally, nuclear fission has its drawbacks. It demands massive capital investments, long construction timelines, rigorous oversight, continuous monitoring, and a stable energy policy. Radioactive waste must be managed with extreme care in secure geological repositories, and any error in engineering or maintenance can turn a valuable resource into a major liability. For this very reason, nuclear energy cannot be approached lightly: it can serve as a powerful ally against climate change only if deployed with the utmost caution, expertise, and responsibility.

The French model is perhaps the most prominent example. France generates the vast majority of its electricity from nuclear fission, achieving some of the lowest power-sector emissions in Europe, exporting electricity to neighboring nations, and historically enjoying lower and more stable electricity prices than many European peers. This demonstrates that nuclear power, when integrated into a coherent industrial and geopolitical strategy, can yield significant economic benefits alongside environmental advantages.

So, how are nuclear fission plants actually built? Next-generation plants (such as Generation III+ reactors) feature passive safety engineering designed to the highest standards. They include containment structures built to withstand the direct impact of a commercial airliner, multiple protective barriers, and rigorous operational protocols. Furthermore, they are not built just anywhere: they require geologically stable areas with adequate water supplies for cooling and low risks from seismic or hydrological hazards. Safety relies heavily on location, engineering design, and regulatory oversight. Interestingly, there is also a paradox: living near a nuclear power plant can bring tangible local benefits. These areas typically feature stringent environmental monitoring, high-skilled employment, advanced infrastructure, and boosted local economies. While this does not eliminate public apprehension, it shows that the presence of a modern, well-regulated plant does not automatically equate to constant danger.

In conclusion, nuclear fission power should be viewed neither as an absolute savior nor as an absolute villain. It is a powerful tool — beneficial when managed intelligently, but dangerous if mismanaged. The core debate is not simply 'for or against,' but rather how we choose to use it, under what regulations, and with what vision for the future.

// Life outside our planet

Why do we represent aliens as similar to ourselves? How strange. It's odd, isn't it? Every extraterrestrial life form ever depicted or described has always had two arms and two legs, a body, and a head. Don't they seem a bit too similar to us?

How can we imagine living beings so damn similar to us in appearance? Are we truly certain that any intelligent and autonomous life forms outside Earth underwent an evolutionary cycle that led, more or less, to having our likeness?

The shape of a creature depends heavily on the environment in which it evolves. On Earth, different animals have found very different solutions for survival, and there is no single "correct model." If gravity, atmospheric composition, or energy availability were different, the most advantageous forms would change as well. For this reason, there is no reason to think that life elsewhere must resemble human life. We must also remember that evolution does not produce perfect copies, but solutions suited to a specific context. Nature can reach similar results in different ways, but this by no means means it must result in humanoid beings. Intelligence, therefore, does not necessarily imply a form similar to ours: it could exist in very different bodies, perhaps without hands, without a face, or even without a structure we would recognize. Another decisive factor is the relationship with available energy. In energy-poor environments, life might remain simple, slow, and very efficient, never developing great complexity. Added to this is the fact that an intelligent species does not necessarily develop technology: it could possess high intelligence, but in a biological form incompatible with the way we understand it.

Let's start by saying that we have only one sample of life: Earth. Everything we know about life, for now, comes from here and, consequently, any comparison with a potential other form of life is by nature limited. We would have to imagine something we don't even know how to imagine, something that is not carbon-based and did not develop from water. How could we possibly imagine life forms based on elements different from those on Earth? Many hypotheses have been proposed, including silicon-based life, among many others. In astrobiology, people often speak of "carbon chauvinism": the idea that Earth's chemistry is universal. But, to date, it is only a hypothesis, not a certainty. I would like to consider silicon-based life, which is cited very often because, as an element, it is very similar to carbon (not coincidentally, it is found in the same section of the periodic table). We know that carbon is very versatile because it can form stable bonds with many elements, and silicon is the most cited alternative because it shares this same characteristic. However, it has major limitations: for example, in water it tends to form silica and its double bonds are considerably less stable. We must also consider that not all extraterrestrial life forms need to be intelligent: on Earth, intelligence appeared very late compared to the emergence of the first form of life. This is to say that potential microbes, biofilms, or simple forms could be much more probable and common than technologically advanced civilizations like ours. Furthermore, life outside Earth could adapt to environments hostile to us, and vice versa; therefore, for any alien life forms, the environment in which our life was created and developed could be hostile. This makes the idea credible that alien life can thrive as long as there is favorable chemistry. However, one must also consider that the development of life forms depends on the environment in which they prosper.

Consider a life form similar to ours in an energy-poor environment (as mentioned previously), such as an icy moon with little sunlight and few available chemical forms (obviously, I am speculating now). In such an environment, life, if it existed, could potentially have less "fuel" to grow, develop, and diversify from an evolutionary standpoint. An example could be Jupiter's moon, Europa. If it hosted this type of life, it could be found in a subsurface ocean isolated from light, where biological processes could be extremely slow. On the other hand, however, it is equally plausible that life developed much more rapidly. Take, for example, a planet with a very short (cosmologically speaking) or unstable geological history, a world subject to frequent catastrophic impacts, extreme volcanism, or very rapid climate changes. In such an environment, it is not impossible that an intelligent life form could develop, but that it would have little time to evolve before being destroyed. The classic example is that of a planet habitable for a limited period of time before its star becomes too hot or unstable. Intelligent life forms could appear and then vanish long before another civilization could encounter them. Cosmic timescales are so vast that even an advanced civilization could have existed and disappeared without leaving traces that we can observe today. In other words, the absence of evidence does not mean the absence of possibility: it only means that the universe is too vast, and our perspective too limited, to expect that any extraterrestrial intelligences would have our same form or have traversed the cosmos at the same moment we exist.

In conclusion, the idea of aliens as copies of us stems more from our imaginative limits than from a real scientific basis. Life depends on the environment, the available chemistry, energy, and evolutionary timescales, and could take forms very different from ours, or even remain simple and invisible to our instruments. This is why the search for extraterrestrial life forms is so complex that institutions exist, such as SETI in the United States, dedicated specifically to this purpose. However, we do not know exactly what to look for, where to look for it, nor in what form it might present itself. In my opinion, finding life elsewhere does not only mean looking far away, but also learning to recognize that which might not resemble what we know at all.

// Please, Sorry and Thank you

Please, Sorry, and Thank You: three words that are decidedly underrated and increasingly rarely used. Pope Francis wrote a small book about them: a few pages that summarize, setting aside the religious references (as I am agnostic), a very positive attitude toward existence. I allow myself to use the term "existence" because I believe the philosophy behind these three concepts is effective even beyond blood relations. Behind these words lies respect for any person, animal, element of nature, or artificial creation.

Focusing on the word "Please", I picture it as a request that moves the other person to respond with selfless generosity. Asking for permission is like entering another person's life with courtesy, to quote Pope Francis, and this word possesses immense power. Thinking about human beings—the context in which it applies in most cases—it should be among the very first things taught to children. Behind asking permission hides an aura of kindness, respect for others' space, and humility. We ought to ask permission more often, and not just by pronouncing the word when entering a room, but by elevating this gesture to a deeper level: when we are about to meet new people, when someone wishes to share a moment with us, or when, more generally, we step into other people's lives.

"Sorry" is another word that applies primarily to human relationships. It is a word often undervalued and discredited, a victim of the cultural stigma that associates it with weakness and inferiority. Someone who apologizes is sometimes singled out as weak or incompetent, especially within environments that do not tolerate mistakes. As usual, I see things differently: "sorry" is not simply a word, but a form of respect, awareness, and maturity. We all make mistakes. Life as a whole, through evolution, progresses precisely by means of errors and refinements. Scientifically speaking, every species that has gone extinct from the origin of the first bacterium until today represented a series of trials and tests. We can almost imagine evolution apologizing for its missteps only to give shape to more adapted and longer-lasting species—like our own. The concept of apology is also found in the behavior of many animals, such as dogs and cats. Admitting one's mistakes should be a source of pride and self-respect. Sincere apologies, in fact, are just the tip of an iceberg built on the awareness gained while processing one's mistakes.

And finally, "Thank you". "Gratitude is a flower that grows in a noble soil," says Pope Francis. This word, in my view, truly applies to everything: people, animals, objects, and events. It means thanking someone for a thoughtful gesture, a gift, or time spent together, but also feeling grateful when that cursed road, full of potholes for ten years, is finally repaved. It means being thankful for the fact that most people in the world do not live under the constant threat of bombs overhead. Thanking nature because it enables us to live, and the cosmos because it allowed us to exist. Being grateful should make us feel better, lighter, and remind us how fortunate we are that something or someone takes care of us.

Also, I like to think that these three words form the basis of a thoughtful and caring approach to others. People who use them naturally often show a nice awareness of themselves and those around them—the sign of someone who tries not to leave things to chance, but rather takes care of them, without being overly rigid. Of course, this is just my personal take.

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