And the buying of new machinery meant not only the possibility

Hear, O seekers of wisdom in work and progress, the words of Gianni Agnelli, titan of industry and steward of Fiat, who declared: “And the buying of new machinery meant not only the possibility of production, but even the new technology, ’cos as I mentioned before, we were back of seven, eight years.” In this utterance lies a profound lesson about renewal, perseverance, and the burden of delay. For Agnelli speaks of a time when his company and his people stood behind the march of progress, and how the embrace of new machinery was not merely an act of purchase, but of survival, rebirth, and hope.

For what is machinery, if not the outward form of human ingenuity? To possess machines is to hold in one’s hands the power of multiplied labor, the transformation of effort into abundance. But to lack them, or to lag in their development, is to be bound in chains while others advance. Agnelli’s words reveal the pain of falling behind the swift current of time: to be seven or eight years back in industry is to stand on the edge of ruin, watching others seize opportunities while one’s own house withers. Thus the acquiring of machinery becomes not a luxury, but the very key to existence.

Consider, O listener, the tale of Peter the Great of Russia. In his youth, he saw that his nation was bound in ancient ways, lagging far behind the powers of Europe. With fierce resolve, he journeyed in disguise to the shipyards of the Dutch and the arsenals of England, learning their secrets of modern craft. When he returned, he purchased new technology, built fleets and factories, and pulled his country forward from centuries of delay. Without this embrace of innovation, Russia might have remained weak and divided; with it, it became a power that shaped history.

Agnelli’s reflection is also a meditation on the burden of delay. To be behind is not merely to lack tools, but to suffer in spirit. For every year without renewal widens the gap, until catching up feels almost impossible. Yet his words are not of despair, but of determination: even if behind, one can still leap forward by embracing what is new. The act of buying machinery, of welcoming innovation, was for him not only about production—it was about reclaiming lost time, restoring dignity, and rejoining the march of progress.

And yet, there is wisdom here for all beyond the world of factories. Each of us, at times, finds ourselves “seven or eight years back” in spirit, in work, in life. We fall behind because of hesitation, fear, or circumstance. We see others advancing while we remain still. But Agnelli’s words remind us that renewal is always possible. The “machinery” we must acquire may not be engines of steel, but skills, habits, or wisdom—tools of the mind and heart that allow us to move forward once again.

The teaching, then, is clear: never despair in the face of delay. Do not dwell endlessly on lost years, but embrace what is new with courage. Seek the technology—whether of mind, craft, or spirit—that can lift you from stagnation into growth. For even when the world seems far ahead, determination can close the gap, and what was once weakness can become strength.

Therefore, O traveler of time, take Agnelli’s counsel to heart. If you have fallen behind, do not surrender. Invest in your “machinery,” renew your spirit, and embrace innovation. For progress is not reserved for those who never stumble; it is also for those who, though delayed, choose to rise. And when you do, you shall know the truth: that the power of renewal is greater than the pain of lost years, and that with patience and courage, even those once behind may yet lead.