Lucciole #7

A newsletter by Voice Over

The story you'll read today is one that ties together multiple pieces, seemingly unrelated at first glance. It's a story that crosses and navigates the Mediterranean frontier, the point where invisibility and exploitation processes intersect and shape the lives of migrant workers. From Lampedusa to Rosarno, from Beirut to Foggia. From the local to the global, Francesco Piobbichi's story holds together the many contradictions of this ecological -world system—capitalism—and simultaneously traces a new path, one that is yet to be imagined and walked.

To get to know this issue's lucciola (firefly), however, we need to start with two key concepts: the first is “decolonizing language”, and the second is “working for the commons”.

But what does “decolonizing language” mean?

Decolonizing language means opposing the dominant narrative, questioning, and transforming the stories, words, and representations that reflect and perpetuate colonial power dynamics, inequalities, and oppression. It’s a process that goes beyond mere word choice: it calls for a radical shift in how stories are told, people are represented, and ideas are conveyed.

For instance, the way migration is often discussed tends to frame migrants as problems or victims, without considering their stories, aspirations, or dreams. Instead of referring to a “migration emergency,” which fosters a perception of fear and chaos, we could talk about “people on the move” or “human mobility.” Or, rather than using the term “irregular migration,” we should start speaking about the “right to mobility.” This would shift the focus from “crisis” to the human right to move and the complexity of individual journeys.

Decolonizing language also means choosing words that restore subjectivity, agency, and respect. It requires abandoning the so-called “pornography of pain” that exploits people’s suffering to provoke empathy or shock without driving real change. Decolonizing language involves choosing stories that include and uplift the voices, experiences, and knowledge of peoples and communities that have been colonized, marginalized, or excluded.

Why is it important?

First and foremost, to restore a memory—often erased or distorted by colonial practices—and to create shared collective narratives shaped by the communities themselves. One of the tools for decolonizing language is experimenting with new forms of expression, such as drawing. This is precisely what Francesco Piobbichi does: safeguarding the name, appearance, and dignity of migrants while also collecting memories and stories that need to be preserved and passed on.

Decolonizing language is, therefore, a political and cultural act aimed at building a fairer, more equitable, and inclusive society. It’s not just about words; it’s about envisioning a different world through a language that embodies its values in advance.

Speaking of imagination and new paths, here’s the second key concept of this newsletter: the commons.

The concept of the commons has been progressively swallowed up by the logic of capitalism, which has commodified it, turning it into a resource to be exploited for profit, and by private property, which has restricted universal access. Processes like land grabbing and the appropriation of natural resources have stripped local communities of their capacity for direct stewardship, rendering them powerless spectators. Even the state, by taking exclusive responsibility for the commons through centralized and bureaucratic management, has encouraged a culture of delegation and weakened the sense of collective belonging.

As a result, citizens and communities have stopped actively caring for nature and the commons, seeing them as distant, alien, and beyond their control. This has eroded community practices of solidarity, self-management, mutualism, and responsible resource governance.

This detachment from nature has allowed corporations, multinational companies, and states to exploit these natural assets—such as land, forests, water, and soil—once managed communally, at “low cost,” while offloading all ecological and social costs onto citizens and ecosystems.

So why must we reclaim the idea of the commons?

Reclaiming the commons means restoring to communities the power to manage and protect what belongs to everyone, removing it from the clutches of commodification and exploitation by multinational corporations and centralized institutions. This process allows us to imagine new models of life and economy, rooted in reconnecting with nature and embracing the idea of limits—understanding that the infinite growth pursued by capitalism is incompatible with the finite resources of our planet.

We chose Francesco Piobbichi’s voice because, through the practice of the border, drawing, and imagination, he gives us the sense that there is still a path to be traveled—undoubtedly uphill, but still possible.

This is his voice.

Thank you for being here with us.

Happy reading!

The Voice Over Team

La voice of this issue 

Francesco Piobbichi is a social worker, activist, and illustrator committed to narrating and transforming the dynamics of borders, particularly the Mediterranean frontier. His Drawings from the Border, created in Lampedusa during his work with the Mediterranean Hope project, represent an act of narrative resistance and an alternative to the dominant, often exploitative portrayal of the pain and tragedies of migration. Self-taught in drawing, Piobbichi employs a storytelling approach that preserves the dignity of migrants, safeguarding their names, faces, and stories while fostering collective reflection on the meaning of borders today, the role of nation-states, and mutual aid practices as forms of struggle, resistance, and new imaginaries. You can listen to his interview on the Voice Over Foundation’s Instagram page.

Francesco Piobbichi's Voice

"Nation-states today are the problem in our society. We need to embrace a form of radicalism accompanied by social practices that allow us to organize and resist through mutual aid, grassroots cooperatives, and solidarity. You know, speaking with a Kurdish person, they told me: 'In Italy, you either work for capital or you work for the state. No one works for the common good.' I think this is a path we should explore."

Beware of calling him an artist. For Francesco Piobbichi, drawing is not about artistry; it is a means of preserving memories and stories without exploiting them. A social worker with Mediterranean Hope, Piobbichi uses drawing as a way to politicize narratives and return them to the community as an act of resistance against the erasure of memory imposed by power. When people are left to die at sea due to racist laws like Italy’s Bossi-Fini, Piobbichi believes it becomes necessary to document the memory of the border and transform it into a collective story in an era overwhelmed by images and words.

"I come from a farming family," he explains, "and I grew up hearing the elders tell stories of resistance, the exploitation of farmers, and how they were sent to die in wars by the fascists. That storytelling has stopped".

Taking storytelling away from a society, according to Piobbichi, is akin to killing it. The same is happening along the border: on one side, images create a narrative of emergency and fear; on the other, bodies, evidence, and memories are erased or neutralized. "For instance, institutions commemorate the October 3rd tragedy but continue to fund Libyan detention camps and militias. We need to reclaim these narratives through action: visiting cemeteries where nameless migrants are buried and placing plaques. Reclaiming memory must be a collective act".

For Piobbichi, however, storytelling and drawing cannot be separated from social practice—they are tools for it. Over the years, he has engaged in numerous social initiatives. Starting with the Brigate di Solidarietà Attiva, mutual aid networks present during the historic 2011 farmworker strike in Nardò, Puglia, he eventually reached Rosarno, Calabria, where he helped establish "Dambe So", a project advocating for housing rights and ethical consumption. This initiative includes 16 apartments housing 60 migrant workers and a grassroots distribution network built around Waldensian Protestant churches in Italy and Germany. The network purchases organic citrus fruits directly from SOS Rosarno producers, bypassing the exploitative mechanisms of large-scale distribution and ensuring fair treatment of both workers and the land.

"We have a power we don’t exercise", Piobbichi explains, "and that’s the power of consumption—not personal consumption, but the organization of it. We should build a self-organized distribution system connecting rural and urban areas, centering the commons and the social use of land. This would help rebuild community bonds and proximity between urban centers, internal areas, and marginalized spaces".

Social practice, storytelling through drawing, and imagination seem like disconnected pieces of Piobbichi’s work, yet they are deeply interconnected. His vision for the future is clear: moving beyond the nation-state to develop new, decentralized, bottom-up territorial management systems rooted in the commons. He advocates for rethinking society through solidarity networks based on mutual aid, and for advancing struggles, boycotts, strikes, and protests. Above all, he believes in the need for a new philosophy of humanity, grounded in values like sensitivity, cooperation, ecology, and feminism.

“Nation-states today are the problem in our society", Piobbichi argues. "We need a much more radical vision, paired with social practices that allow us to organize and resist through mutual aid, grassroots cooperatives, and solidarity. Once, a Kurdish friend told me: ‘In Italy, you either work for capital or the state. No one works for the common good.’ That, I think, is the path we should take".

Perhaps Piobbichi is right. The path forward begins with centering the commons. But to start, action is required—getting our hands dirty, staying connected to the land, and stitching together the frayed threads of humanity. It means gathering people around new imaginaries for life, society, and values—not based on endless growth but on accepting limits and recognizing our place as part of a greater whole. To achieve this, we need imagination and the decolonization of thought and language.

Explore further with us

If you want to learn more about capitalism, decolonizing language, and the commons, here are some recommended readings:

-Silvia Federici - Re-enchanting the World: Feminism and the Politics of the Commons. Federici connects the commons to feminist struggles and the need to build more inclusive and sustainable communities.

-Ugo Mattei - Beni comuni: un manifesto. A key text for understanding how the commons can serve as a tool for building a political and social alternative to capitalism.

-Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o - Decolonising the Mind. An iconic work in which the author examines how language has been used as a tool of colonial oppression and advocates for reclaiming native languages as a form of resistance.

-Byung-Chul Han - The Crisis of Narrative. This work explores how narratives are the connective tissue of our communities, giving meaning to the world. Han examines how contemporary society’s fast-paced storytelling undermines this critical function.

See you next time!