CThere are tragedies that destroy forests, homes, and lives. And then there are words that destroy something even more fragile: ours. humanity.
The fire ravaging Mount Vesuvius, already targeted in 2017 with the blaze that then affected the "Torrese" side between Torre del Greco, Ercolano and neighboring municipalities, has left behind hectares of greenery reduced to ashes, animals killed by the smoke, and families with their windows closed to avoid breathing in the dust of the inferno.
While hundreds of volunteers, firefighters and citizens are breaking their backs to contain the flames, someone has found the time - and above all cowardly courage — to write on social media: “Why isn't it lava?” 
Certain statements don't even deserve the dignity of being called opinions. They're virtual spit in the faces of those who live in those places, those who love them, those who defend them every day. They're proof that, for some, the pain of others is merely fuel for their own toxic frustration.
It's not irony, it's madness
Anyone who writes such things isn't "satirizing" or "saying what they think without filters because we live in a democracy and there is freedom of speech," they are simply demonstrating a lack of empathy, respect, or culture. They aren't people who deserve to live in a civilized country, they aren't people who should have the right to drive, raise children, or work, because they're out of touch, outside the rules humanity is forgetting. There are limits; freedom of speech can't be exchanged for the freedom to spit in other people's faces, to say the stupid things you have in your head just because you cowardly think you can get away with it hiding behind a phone or a computer. It takes a certain intelligence to understand that, behind a fire, there's the suffering of a territory, of those who live there, and of those who defend it, and often these fires hide something else entirely. And that intelligence, here, can't be seen even with binoculars.
Vesuvius is not just a volcano.
It's history, it's identity, it's memory. It's the profile every Neapolitan recognizes even with their eyes closed, it's the natural setting that welcomes millions of tourists, it's a symbol that has survived millennia of eruptions and catastrophes. Those who wish for its destruction aren't just insulting a mountain: they're attacking an entire people.
The mask of anonymity
Behind those phrases, almost always, are faces covered by nicknames, nonexistent profile photos, or stolen images. Anonymity is the perfect carnival costume for those who couldn't even handle five seconds of confrontation in real life. Because, off-screen, certain phrases aren't said while looking someone in the eye—unless you're prepared to bear the weight of shame and the courage to get punched in the face if you run into the wrong person in the wrong place.
Fortunately, there was also a wave of indignant responses, reports, and messages of support. People who refused to give way to gratuitous hatred. Because the web amplifies everything: the venom, but also the antibodies, and articles like this one will hopefully trigger the opposite effect, making people understand that when these things happen, serious, grave things, these comments, outbursts, and live broadcasts must be nipped in the bud.
So, to those who wrote "it's a shame it's just a fire", we say this:
Vesuvius will rise again, as it always has. The trees will grow again, the animals will run free again, life will once again fill every slope. You, however, will remain the same: arid, lifeless, and so insignificant that not even a fire could make you seem alive.
Article published by Sara Mareschi on August 9, 2025, at 20:24 PM
Comments (1)
It's sad to see how some comments about the Vesuvius tragedy can be so insensitive. People should think before writing nonsense. Nature has its value, and human suffering is no joke.