In an age of outrage, snark, and speed, kindness can feel like pointless, or worse, a liability. But in Italy and increasingly across the corporate world, it’s still seen as a form of strength. The ability to stay calm, warm, and courteous, especially under pressure, isn’t just good manners. It’s a competitive advantage.
I grew up watching people handle conflict, business, and even chaos with what I now call the Italian advantage: grace under pressure, leading with a smile and appreciation. Whether it’s a barista dealing with a tourist’s complicated order or a business owner having to put up with a bureaucratic mess, the reflex is rarely irritation. It’s usually a smile and a simple phrase: “Non c’è problema”, “No problem”, which is what I call the longevity Italian power hack.
It’s anti-fragile as described in the great book by Nassim Nicholas Taleb. It’s leadership in miniature. Non c’è problema is the verbal equivalent of a deep breath: things go wrong, but we stay human. It resets tension with warmth and optimism. That phrase, said with intention, diffuses what confrontation cannot, and it’s why Italians often come across as both likable and unshakable. Keep also in mind that a crisis is not a crisis unless you decide to take part in it.
In a culture built on relationships, likability is not decoration, it’s strategy. Language itself becomes a social technology. Italians have mastered a vocabulary of connection that softens hierarchy and builds trust in seconds:
- “Permesso”(permission to enter), said softly before stepping into a room or conversation. It shows humility without loss of confidence — the kind of courtesy that opens both doors and minds.
- “Grazie mille”(a thousand thanks), not just gratitude, but reciprocity. It says, I see your effort, and it matters.
- “Alla prossima”(until next time), often said with steady eye contact at the end of an interaction. It isn’t a goodbye; it’s a gentle promise of continuity, an emotional bridge to the next encounter.
The principle of scaling kindness isn’t limited to Italian cafés or boardrooms. Consider a modern global example: Taylor Swift. The superstar of the Eras Tour has built one of the most devoted fan followings not just through talent, but through deliberate acts of generosity and connection. She surprises fans by performing at their weddings, and during her tour, she distributed $55 million in bonuses to her crew (last year) giving truck drivers, technicians, and caterers life-changing amounts simply in recognition of their contribution.
Swift’s approach demonstrates the power of kindness as a multiplier: it builds loyalty, fosters trust, and amplifies influence. Like the Italian gestures of permesso, grazie mille, and alla prossima, these actions create ripples of goodwill that extend far beyond the immediate interaction. Whether in music, business, or diplomacy, leadership that invests in human connection, with humility, recognition, and generosity, consistently outperforms raw ambition alone.
I’ve seen it firsthand across negotiations, diplomatic meetings, and leadership circles. The most effective leaders aren’t necessarily forceful or most ecucated. They’re the ones who master emotional timing, when to smile, when to listen, when to compliment and when to shut up.
And the art of the compliment remains one of Italy’s most underestimated skills. A well-placed “Bravissimo” or “Che eleganza” isn’t flattery; it’s recognition. It tells someone, you’re seen. It creates connection faster than any corporate team building icebreaker ever could.
What outsiders sometimes dismiss as old-fashioned courtesy is, in fact, emotional intelligence in motion. It’s the social glue that keeps Italy’s famously complex systems functioning. And it’s what more leaders, from the CEOs of Starbuck and Apple, are using today: the ability to stay civil, kind, and composed when the world isn’t.
The truth is, likability still scales. In a time when algorithms reward outrage, and the power of bad, genuine warmth is almost subversive. A smile, a compliment, or a sincere non c’è problema can disarm cynicism faster than argument ever will.
Kindness is not about avoiding risk. It’s about control. The kind of quiet power that Italians have perfected, the power to lead without shouting, to connect without forcing, and to leave every interaction with a simple, confident promise: “Alla prossima.” Until next time.