On March 13, 2026, in the setting of the Sala della Musica at the San Firenze complex, the event “Ethics in Service of the Digital” took place as part of the ABF Officine Educative program. This initiative offered a window for cultural dialogue with Professor Federico Faggin, father of the microprocessor, focusing on one particular piece of the broader mosaic of themes explored daily by ABF Globalab—a program dedicated to young people aged 16 to 35: the relationship, and above all the balance, between technological progress and human attitude.
To provide an overview of the topics discussed during the meeting, Professor Faggin, through his narrative, opens up a treasury of values that allows for a deeper exploration not only of the technological sphere, but above all of how it intertwines with human nature. This reflection, as the guest explains, stems from a specific realization: that physics alone is not sufficient to explain every nuance of our existence, and that rationality itself, precisely in order to remain coherent, must accept its own limits in being unable to fully unravel phenomena, events, and emotions that are far more complex. All of this takes on even greater significance coming from someone who has dedicated his life, creativity, and time to the technological field, demonstrating how science and spirituality are not an oxymoron, but rather a union of worlds that contributes profoundly to human growth.
Faggin then introduces the idea that human beings find their purpose in three fundamental principles: freedom, love, and responsibility. The latter is almost inseparably linked to a term that recurs throughout the event: ethics. However, this ethics is interpreted through an innovative perspective that portrays it not only as awareness, but also as both individual and collective education—one that can lead to the rediscovery of concepts and values that are sometimes overlooked today, such as empathy, human relationships, the future, and much more.
What makes these meetings particularly meaningful for us young people is one aspect above all: they do not end when the venue empties, but continue to accompany us far beyond. Through these initiatives, a world of reflections opens up, helping us move beyond the metaphorical “energy-saving mode” of everyday life and begin to truly live “onlife,” bringing the discussions and themes from a conceptual level into an experiential one.
Professor Faggin’s testimony sparks various reflections in us. First and foremost, it reminds us that technology depends on human beings—not the other way around. Today, we often behave as if humans were almost entirely dependent on technology, even for everyday actions. In reality, humanity has lived for most of its history without technology in the modern sense of the term. Yet it is not easy to grasp this idea, to separate or limit the digital universe from our habits—especially for young people, who are the same age as the web itself, generations born and raised in an incredibly interconnected world, growing up in almost inseparable synchrony with contemporary technology.
Precisely because of this long-standing coexistence between humans and machines—rarely interrupted and even reinforced during periods such as lockdown—we young people often feel as though we are walking a symbolic tightrope, acrobats balancing on something extremely fragile. This balance oscillates between the need to keep up with a world that now lives as if these tools were extensions of its own abilities, and the desire to escape, to live away from the rhythms of screens and the digital information overload that surrounds us more and more each day. The relationship between young people and technology often shifts from the illusion of advantage or simplification into an unconscious subordination of human creativity to digital progress.
Technology, like everything created by humans, is an innovation that inevitably reflects the phenomena of the modern world in its evolution—needs, habits, and attitudes that are deeply contemporary. Today, especially for young people, technology cannot be seen as merely technical or utilitarian. It entertains, distracts, and—at least seemingly—fills gaps. However, if we reflect more deeply, we soon realize how our habituation to the digital has distanced us from tangible emotional connections, sometimes creating not a collaboration between these two worlds, but a real fracture. This is felt particularly strongly by young people who, during their adolescence, experienced these tools as the only and unavoidable channel for attending school, expressing themselves, socializing, and much more. The issue for newer generations began when what was once an exception became the norm—the main path.
Perhaps, then, we should metaphorically rewind the tape and return to the original purpose of technology: to simplify human life, not reduce it; to bring people closer, not isolate them; to unite, not divide. A concept emphasized repeatedly during the meeting—and one that takes on particular importance in this historical moment—is the ability to choose, the awareness that we are not passive in the face of change, but active and conscious agents. This gives us the possibility to reapproach technology from a more positive experiential perspective, avoiding the trap in which the digital becomes all-encompassing even in areas where the most human aspects of existence—such as personal connection—should prevail.
And so, within us, a feeling begins to re-emerge—one we tasted long ago, before the many recent transformations of our world. It is an atmosphere and a set of habits rooted in what now seems like another life altogether. We realize that it could return: that we could start ringing our friends’ doorbells instead of video calling them, taking an old ball out of the garage—something one is never too old for—and playing in a field, enjoying sunny days outdoors, appreciating the beauty of what surrounds us. In this way, we rediscover, in harmony and balance with the digital progress we have known since birth, a nostalgia for a time that our generations may never have truly experienced.
What also defines human beings, as Professor Faggin points out, is consciousness—the ability to attribute meaning, emotion, and memory to words. It is not the result, but rather the intention, that makes the difference, shaping both the purpose and consequences of our actions. Art, for instance, does not live in perfection, but in experience—both of the creator and the observer. If we were to consider art solely as a result, stripping away the emotional roots, the suffering, and the search that give it life, we would soon reach the bitter conclusion that skill, without soul, remains merely technical.
What remains most deeply imprinted in the emotional memory of each of us from this experience is the awareness that while technology can improve our lives, we truly live thanks to what cannot be calculated: the unknown, the imprecise, the subjective, the imperfect. In short, that beauty which relies entirely on each individual’s perspective—on variability, emotion, and lived experience as a journey, a path, a process of growth, rather than as the mere absence of errors or the achievement of a result. And if it is true that a time will come—or perhaps has already come—when technology will be able to emulate or even surpass our technical abilities, we can take comfort in knowing that, no matter how refined it becomes, it may replicate our skills, but it will never possess our lived experience—nor what makes it so: our ability, and our will, to be and remain human.
Diletta Maglioccola
