Our Humanity and Enterprise
Julián Carrón - a transcript froma video dialogue between the Artigiano in Fiera Foundation and Father Julián Carrón on Humanity and Enterprise.
Moderator: Let’s start by briefly listening to one of my favorite pieces: Smetana’s The Moldau. Afterward, I will explain why. Clearly, it would be lovely to listen to the whole piece, but the aspect that strikes me most about this beautiful composition is the “source point.” The beginning of The Moldau, in fact, illustrates how this great river originates from the gushing of a single spring, then becomes a torrent, grows wider and wider, and finally reaches its destiny at the sea.
The source point holds a great analogy to the approach through which a person intuits or perceives something in their encounter with reality. It is the provocation that reality places before each of us: an inspiration that makes us say, “We could do this,” or “We could build this.” This is the point of origin for any true entrepreneurial act. It is born, I would say, almost like a poetic act. It arises from an inspiration that one brings to fulfillment. Any inspiration or encounter with reality matures and grows only if one gets to the bottom of the idea that sparked it; if one does not go to the depths, nothing is born. It has to do with creation.
I am curious to hear the thoughts of our friend, whom I thank for the second time for being here to accompany us on this journey. It is said that this construction is a participation in the great creation of which we are children—call it God or whatever you prefer, but we are part of a creation, and we harbor this desire to participate, to build something beautiful and good.
These days, I am reading the stories of the artisans who will be coming to our fair in a few weeks, and I am always amazed to see how much men—and women in particular—are capable of this originality. I am struck by how young people express their humanity through their work and what they create. However, no enterprise can be born from an “I” without the participation of others. It is impossible. In building what I desired to achieve, I need companionship that helps me, supports me, and allows me to grow and mature the work. I need others so that what I have intuited can exist. I need this connection, this relationship.
Here, I introduce a question I would like you to help us with. For me, those who work with me are not employees, but collaborators in a project, in a constructive hypothesis for life. This always implies the authentic communication of oneself and the freedom of the other to receive it. It is a dramatic dynamic for two reasons: first, if the origin is taken for granted, it becomes a thought of the past and no longer lives in the present, relying only on organization and mechanisms; second, freedom is inherent in the relationship. Without this openness, without the possibility of “committing oneself” and perceiving a specific view of reality, nothing happens. No training course or organization can hold up; we remain strangers. We can be part of a mechanism, but not collaborators.
In my opinion, this dynamic of the origin—which must be regenerated by those who created it—also has to do with the future of a company. Without this, there is no perspective or continuity. Continuity is never an automatic process; it always involves someone taking the liberty of repeating that experience. I am struck by how many young people are returning to craftsmanship, taking up the tradition of their grandparents or fathers, but making it their own. They are the protagonists; they are the ones reincarnating the origin of that trade in the form they communicate today.
The third aspect I wanted to raise as a question involves an example, because I am better at talking about life than theories. It is the first time I have harvested grapes in my cellar. I left at five in the morning for the coast. As I was driving, praying and thinking about the people preparing for our first harvest, I came across the Saturday morning hymn: “May the grace of this morning transform the earth into an altar, and may all human work become an offering of praise.” Work can be an attempt at infinite self-affirmation, as if we were sufficient unto ourselves, or it can become the recognition that we are participating in a great work given to us by Another. Every morning, the mere fact of getting up and going to work is a grace; it is not to be taken for granted. Farmers know this better than we “sophisticated” service-sector entrepreneurs: you can work as long as you want, but if a hailstorm hits, you can kiss a year’s work goodbye.
You are dependent. “May the grace of this morning transform the earth into an altar”: it becomes a shared participation that gives thanks for what has been received. The risk of business is that, instead of being a service, it becomes the claim of an idol—the claim of self-sufficiency. So, when things go wrong or we fail, we believe that life has failed, not realizing that it is only a lesson to keep going.
Finally, there is confusion regarding the question of profit. I would like to clear up this issue with your help. It seems that a business becomes "useful" only if it pays a toll to those in power—whether it be the established power or ecclesial authorities, it matters little. It is as if one had to pay something to feel useful, as if the good that is generated and shared were not sufficient utility. Over to you. Thank you.
Julián Carrón: Good evening, everyone. Thank you again for the invitation. This is essentially a dialogue rather than a lecture. Let’s focus on something truly important, whatever profession each of us holds, because, as you said in the title, “our humanity” is the origin of everything we do.
You said at the beginning that it is common to feel an intuition welling up from within, an inspiration whose ultimate origin is unknown, yet we find it within ourselves. Who does it call upon first and foremost? Ourselves. Whether or not to follow that idea—that suggestion born from the impact of reality—is a struggle within oneself. One must decide whether to go along with that inspiration or let it go, because in the beginning, it is all there, like a seed. You have to believe in it. It is not at all a given.
For years I had to defend this concept when talking about vocation. How many times have I been asked, “How can someone have a vocation at the age of ten?” I always replied with a quip: “Just because the seed is smaller doesn't mean it's any less real.” It is a seed that can be trusted, in which one can recognize a calling. Then there is the whole journey to see how this seed matures; only along the way do its characteristics become clear. It is not as if when you start a project, you already have the whole blueprint in your head. It grows together with the person, following their intuition. You cannot think of an enterprise without this inner ferment of the person. You cannot offload this task onto an organization or an institution; it has to mature in the person who takes risks, corrects, develops, and backtracks, experiencing the drama of reality.
So, the enterprise grows constantly alongside the entrepreneur; they are not two realities that can be separated, as if there were rules that make the company move forward mechanically once the intuition has occurred. They go together. It is like literary creativity: one must follow the character and let them develop.
This is also decisive for the second question you asked: participation. You cannot involve another person without drawing them into this generation that happens within us. What is the task of the entrepreneur who cannot accomplish the work alone? He must find people who are mad enough to believe in that intuition just as he does. His task is to communicate the fascination that struck him. It is not reduced to giving instructions, but to drawing in all those who feel called to follow that same vibration. It is the generation of collaborators. It is not, first and foremost, a question of technical competence, but of involvement.
Without this, I can find executors, but not collaborators with whom to share the adventure. I am always struck by a text by Péguy: “When the student merely repeats, he is nothing more than a miserable copy of the teacher's thinking. [...] A student only begins to create when he introduces a new resonance himself.” We don't need disciples who repeat, but people who have their own resonance. It’s like a conductor: having a musician who performs perfectly on a technical level but doesn't participate in the vibration is not the same as having one who is involved to the core.
To generate means to bring out not only the execution of orders in the relationship with the other, but the best of oneself. It is a communication of self, not from above, but through living. It is what happens between father and son: a father generates his son not with rules, but by communicating life—the way he reacts to news or misfortune. It is a way of being in reality. Only if you share the risks, the anxiety, and the difficulties with your collaborators can you truly involve them in the creation of the work.
Education comes to mind. Now that I have returned to teaching in a vocational school, I see young people who are not comfortable in the classroom but who, paradoxically, find in work what they do not find in school. By getting involved with others, they discover values about themselves that they were unaware of. They come back from their internships saying, “They entrusted me with something that was beyond my abilities.” The esteem they receive helps them grow.
They told me about a young man who was so troubled that the school didn't know where to send him. In the end, an entrepreneur took a chance on him. After a few months, that entrepreneur called the school and asked, “Do you have anyone else like him?” Without finding a point that generates the person, you cannot have a true collaborator.
Today, according to a recent study by Il Sole 24 Ore, 38% of people work only for their salary. They wait for the day to end to “start living” outside of work. But if work time does not help the person grow, it is too little. As you said, quoting the hymn: “May all of man's work become an offering of praise.” Work is the circumstance in which the constitutive needs of our "I" emerge: the need for goodness, for truth, for beauty. This is the real work of life. If one does not get involved—like a lazy person—one will never understand who one is.
The tragedy of today is not only the lack of work but the lack of self-awareness. If work becomes only a means to a salary, a dualism is created. The more one commits oneself, the more one's humanity emerges, and the more one has the ability to judge whether work is becoming an idol. The idol is unmasked by experience itself: it will not be enough to satisfy our need for the infinite.
I was struck by the case of the rapper Marracash. Starting from poverty, he achieved success and realized that it was not enough. He said, “You only feel free when you know who you are and what you want.” He went from striving to escape poverty to growing in self-awareness. Even success is not enough. Experience has an impressive “anti-idolatrous” capacity.
So, what is useful? Just a salary? Or personal growth? If a company does not meet the human needs of its employees, it will ultimately be a disaster. Even large multinationals such as Google or Apple, despite offering many benefits, struggle to retain employees if they lack intrinsic motivation. Employee satisfaction is a fundamental resource for the survival of a company.
I remember a girl who said to me joyfully, “Yesterday they gave me a tip!” And I said to her, “Because they saw how committed you were. If you always worked like that, the tip would just be the icing on the cake.” The problem is that often, after the initial enthusiasm, people settle for the bare minimum. Working while waiting for the day to end is a punishment. If the job does not fulfill the person, the business will not last: the entrepreneur will sell as soon as possible, and the employees will just wait for retirement.
Moderator: Thank you. Let's move on to the microphones. Please, Stefano.
Stefano (Entrepreneur): Hi. I've had a business for 18 years. I was struck by the title “Our Humanity and Enterprise.” I'm realizing that this relationship is not only about the initial creative act but becomes decisive as the company grows. Let me give you two examples.
I work in the field of post-fire and flood emergency response. For years, I grew “easily.” Then two multinationals with large capital entered the market. From being the “biggest of the small,” I became the “smallest of the big.” They pay much more. One of my long-time collaborators said to me, “Stefano, I have a mortgage, and they're offering me 30% more. I love you, but I'm leaving.” I told him he was doing the right thing. Two years later, he called me and said, “Can I come back? I quit.” He explained that the environment there was unbearable: when a mistake was made, the hunt for the culprit began, making life hell. He remembered that when a mistake was made at our company, we asked ourselves what we could learn from it.
The second episode concerns a girl I hired. One day she stopped me and said, “I wanted to thank you. I've always felt wrong in my life. Here, for the first time, I don't feel wrong at work.” I realized that what I experience as education has become a factor of attractiveness for people, more than money. Humanity and enterprise are two sides of the same coin.
Julián Carrón: That's wonderful. It shows that when the moment of risk or a higher economic offer arises, what makes the difference is the human “plus.” That's where the game of profit is played. Being loyal to that origin leads to a human fullness that is worth more than money.
Comment from the audience: One of the criteria used to evaluate employees is whether they “work as if the company were theirs.” At one point, I felt a kind of violence in this, because if the company is “yours,” you risk wanting to possess it. I realized that the entrepreneur who impresses me is the one who treats the company as if it were not his, but guards it with respect to its purpose. It seems to me to be a dynamic similar to that with children: there is nothing more yours than a child, but they are not yours; you cannot control them. How do you play out this responsibility to share in the happiness of another while realizing your own?
Don Julián Carrón: The example of children is crucial. Apparently, nothing is more yours than a child, but at the same time, they are irreducible. If we love them, we cannot desire to make them a copy of ourselves; we want them to develop their own richness. What human work must a father do to allow his child's freedom? What fullness must an entrepreneur have to let the company grow through the collaboration of many “children” without bending them to his own thoughts? It takes such fullness—we could call it “virginity”—to have a non-possessive relationship with the other. This happens with children, with companies, and with the Church.
Question from the audience: I wanted to ask a question about today's complexity. I am a consultant for multinational companies. We often have very little time, scarce information, and we have to come up with solutions on the fly. These are contexts that seem to “strip away the poetry” from what we say. The market is variable; finance is pressing. How can we express our humanity and be happy in a context that challenges the human with this pressure and complexity?
Don Julián Carrón: Thank you. Welcome to the club of humanity! Complexity does not eliminate poetry, but it raises the bar. It requires even deeper work on oneself to face this complexity without succumbing to skepticism. How familiar with the human condition must you be to immediately intuit what the customer wants, even with little information? If our person grows, poetry will not diminish, but the desire for it will grow. It is a challenge not to settle for less.
Moderator: I thank Julián because these meetings highlight a fundamental theme. I will close with a thought from Don Giussani. He told of a book on St. Francis in which the letter “Q” of a chapter was illuminated: inside the oval was a landscape of mountains and St. Francis with his arms outstretched. The sentence began with: “Quid animo satis?” (What suffices for the soul?). If we do not care about our humanity and the search for full meaning, we lose the opportunity to live our work to the full. We need “work within the work.” Thank you all again. Good evening.
