Before I begin with my welcome address, let me start with acknowledgements. Over the past months, we have achieved results of which we can all be proud.

First, we performed exceptionally well in the national research assessment (VQR), placing unibz among the leading universities in Italy. Second, we improved our standing in international rankings substantially. Finally, we accomplished our periodic accreditation process. These achievements are –of course- not the condensed result of a single rector, a single department, a single laboratory or a single office. They are the outcome of a university that acts as one community.

And for that reason, I want to thank all of you — our academic staff, our administrative colleagues, our technical and professional support, and – last but not least – especially our students. Normally, occasions such as the Dies Academicus are used mainly to celebrate achievements, present results, and speak about future targets.

Today, I would like to do something slightly different. I would like to tell you a story.

And while stories usually begin with the words “once upon a time” ("Es war einmal...", "C'era una volta..."), my story begins differently.

 It begins with these words:

 “A spectre is haunting Eastern Europe: the spectre of what in the West is called ‘dissent.’ This spectre has not appeared out of thin air. It is a natural and inevitable consequence of the present historical phase of the system it is haunting.”

 Who wrote this opening?

A writer.

A prisoner.

A dissident.

A statesman.

A president.

The man was Václav Havel. He wrote this opening back in 1978 in a prison cell. And shortly after these lines, he asks another extraordinary question:

 Can a person who is forced to live in a system of lies ever truly live?

 Václav Havel thought this could not be the case. I connect here to my address of this year’s Opening of the Academic Year, when I mentioned that often we have the wrong feeling that we have no choice, we have no influence, we have no power, but that in reality each of us counts – each of us counts!

At the centre of Havel’s essay stands a remarkably ordinary figure: a greengrocer.

 This greengrocer places a sign in his shop window, day by day by day. The sign reads: “Workers of the World, Unite!” Why does he display it?

Not because he believes it. He does not. Nobody does! Not because he is interested in politics. Not at all! He puts it there because everyone is doing the same. Because it is expected. Because failing to display it might attract unwanted attention. The sign is less an expression of conviction than a ritual of compliance – to go along, to get along.

Havel’s insight is devastating in its simplicity. Systems of unfreedom are not sustained by fear alone. They are sustained because ordinary people learn to participate in small acts of conformity. The lie survives not only because it is imposed from above, but because it is reproduced from below — quietly, routinely, almost automatically. Day by day by day...

And Havel shows that the line between freedom and unfreedom does not run neatly between “good people” and “bad people.” It runs through each of us. That is why his essay remains so powerful today.

Because “living within the lie,” as Havel describes it, is not limited to totalitarian regimes. It describes something deeply human: the temptation to say what is safe rather than what is true; to remain silent rather than risk disapproval; to adapt ourselves to institutional expectations until conformity begins to feel natural.

People begin to censor themselves before anyone else needs to censor them. They learn what can be said, what cannot be said, which questions are rewarded, and which are best avoided. And so Havel poses a question to all of us: What are the signs in our own windows? What assumptions do we repeat because they are convenient? What questions do we avoid because they seem professionally risky, socially awkward, or institutionally unwelcome? These are not easy questions. But universities exist precisely to ask difficult questions. 

Freedom

 Havel ci ricorda che la libertà non si perde improvvisamente. Si perde lentamente – giorno per giorno per giorno - quando le persone smettono di dire ciò che pensano veramente, quando la conformità diventa più importante della verità, quando il silenzio sembra più conveniente del coraggio.

 Per questo motivo l’università deve restare uno spazio nel quale sia possibile porre domande difficili. Uno spazio nel quale il dissenso non venga percepito come una minaccia, ma come parte essenziale della vita intellettuale.

Uno spazio nel quale il pensiero critico venga protetto non solo quando è comodo, ma soprattutto quando è scomodo.

University

 Václav Havel erinnert uns daran, dass Wahrheit niemals selbstverständlich ist. Jede Institution — auch eine Universität — steht immer in Gefahr, Bequemlichkeit über Ehrlichkeit zu stellen, Anpassung über Mut und Verwaltung über geistige Freiheit und Veränderung. Bürokratie spielt dabei eine zentrale Rolle. Bürokratie ist der Kleister, der Klebstoff, der dazu führt, dass ein System im Status quo verharrt. In sozialen Systemen führt Bürokratie zum ersten Gesetz von Newton, dem Trägheitsgesetz, nämlich dass ein Körper seinen Zustand der Ruhe beibehält. In diesem Zusammenhang tun sich zumindest drei Fragen auf:

Wie frei darf eine Universität heute noch sein (siehe Harvard)?

Wie frei darf eine "Freie" Universität in einer Autonomen Provinz sein?

Welche Rolle soll und darf die Akademie dabei spielen?

Wissenschaft lebt nicht von Konformität. Wissenschaft lebt von der Bereitschaft, Fragen zu stellen — auch unbequeme Fragen. Eine lebende Universität steht für Veränderung, Dialog, harte Debatten (‚a huge amount of family fights‘), Offenheit, Erneuerung, eine Gemeinschaft unter Gleichen.

Und vielleicht ist dies die wichtigste Botschaft Havel’s für unsere Zeit: Dass Wahrheit nicht abstrakt existiert, sondern nur durch Menschen geschaffen wird -  Tag für Tag – im Positiven wie im Negativen. Es liegt an uns.

Conclusion

What happens when the greengrocer removes the sign?

Havel’s answer is extraordinary. The greengrocer does not lead a revolution. He does not seize power. He simply stops pretending.

He decides to “live in truth.”

And suddenly, he exposes the fragility of the entire system. His act reveals that the whole system is dependent on collective compliance.

This is what Havel means by “the power of the powerless.”

Sometimes true power resides in the simple moral courage of a person who refuses to comply, to name things as they are – as the child saying what everybody else could see, namely that the emperor is naked.

Universities matter not only because they produce knowledge, innovation, or economic progress. They matter because they help societies to preserve the capacity to live in truth.

In an increasingly complex world, universities must remain places where people are encouraged not merely to repeat accepted ideas, but to think critically and challenge the status quo.

Dear colleagues, that is our real academic responsibility. And perhaps that is also our greatest contribution to society. We as unibz are willing to contribute to the development of our Province. My friends, what we need is your trust.

Here you can download the mp3 file of the rector's speech.