"I hate the indifferent"
I hate the cold. I believe that life should mean to be partisan. Who really lives can not be a citizen and partisan. The indifference is apathy, is parasitism, it is cowardice, not life. So I hate the cold.
Indifference is the dead weight of history. The indifference shown strength in history. Work passively, but it operates. E 'fate, which is what we can not rely on, is what upsets the programs, which brings down the best built planes, is the brute matter strangling intelligence. What happens, the evil that befalls everyone, is because the mass of men abdicating to his will, leaving only enact laws which will repeal the revolt, leaving the men who come to power only then will a mutiny to overthrow. Between absenteeism and indifference few hands, not supervised by any control, they weave the fabric of community life, and ignores the mass, because he cares, and then seems to be the fate to overwhelm everything and everyone, it seems that the story is nothing but an enormous natural phenomenon, an eruption, an earthquake whose victims are all those who wanted and who did not want, those who knew and who knew, who had been active and who is indifferent. Some whine piteously, others swearing obscenely, but none or very few people wonder: If I had done my duty if I tried to assert my will, would have happened what happened?
hate the indifferent even to this: Why bother me with their eternal whining innocent. I ask each of their account of how he played the role that life has placed and places every day of what he has done and especially what did not. And I feel I can be relentless, not having to waste my pity, not having to share them with my tears.
am partisan, I live, I feel in the consciousness of my hand already pulsing activity della città futura che la mia parte sta già costruendo. E in essa la catena sociale non pesa su pochi, in essa ogni cosa che succede non è dovuta al caso, alla fatalità, ma è intelligente opera dei cittadini. Non c'é in essa nessuno che stia dalla alla finestra a guardare mentre i pochi si sacrificano, si svenano. Vivo, sono partigiano. Peciò odio chi non parteggia, odio gli indifferenti.
Antonio Gramsci , 11 febbraio 1917
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