Processes

Italians judge whether something was done properly by looking at the result, not at whether a specific procedure was followed. The standard of quality is the outcome—does it look right, work right, taste right, feel right? If the result is excellent, the method that produced it was the right method, even if it deviated from a documented process.

If the result is poor, it does not matter that every procedural step was followed correctly. This means that in Italian working culture, process exists to serve results, not the other way around. When a process stops producing good results, the expectation is that the process will be adapted, not that people will continue following it because it is the official method. Quality standards are often very high, but they are expressed as expected outcomes rather than as mandated methods.

In Italian culture, the quality of any outcome depends primarily on the specific individuals involved—their expertise, judgment, and personal commitment—rather than on the system or procedure that governs the activity. A school is as good as its teachers. A product is as good as its craftspeople. A bureaucratic process moves as well as the official handling it.

This person-dependence is not viewed as a flaw to be corrected through better standardization. It is understood as natural and often desirable, because excellence requires human judgment that cannot be fully captured in procedures. The practical implication is that finding, developing, and accessing the right people is often more important than designing better processes. Invest in the person, and the process will follow.

Italy maintains elaborate formal rules, regulations, and procedures—often more detailed than anywhere else in Europe. At the same time, everyone understands that the formal system and the actual system are not identical. The way things officially work and the way things actually get done exist as two parallel realities.

This gap is not a secret or a scandal. It is an openly acknowledged feature of how Italian institutions operate. Navigating between the formal system and the functional system—knowing which rules matter, which can be worked around, and where the real levers are—is a fundamental competence in Italian professional life. Taking the formal system at face value without understanding how things actually work is considered naive.

Relationships are the infrastructure through which processes actually operate in Italy. Trust, personal knowledge, accumulated history, and reciprocal obligation between people are the channels through which work flows, information moves, decisions get made, and problems get resolved. This goes beyond networking.

It is a deep, relational way of operating where the quality of your personal connections directly determines how effectively you can get things done. Building and maintaining relationships is not separate from “the real work”—it is an integral part of the work itself. Trying to execute processes purely through formal channels, without investing in the relational dimension, will produce slower and more frustrating results.

The ability to adapt, improvise, and find creative solutions when circumstances do not match expectations is a deeply valued competence in Italian culture. This is not viewed as a failure of planning or process—it is seen as a positive form of practical intelligence. The Italian concept of “arrangiarsi” (to figure it out, to make things work) describes a capable person who can navigate obstacles, work around bottlenecks, and deliver results despite imperfect conditions. In a working environment where formal processes can be complex and impractical, the person who can read the situation, identify what actually needs to happen, and find a creative path to the solution is the person who is most valued and respected.

Rules and procedures in Italian culture are understood as requiring interpretation, not mechanical execution. The right way to apply a rule depends on who is involved, what the circumstances are, and what the stakes are.

This is not disregard for rules—Italians can have very strong views about right and wrong. But there is a cultural assumption that rules are frameworks, not algorithms, and that applying them properly requires human judgment about the specific situation. A person who follows a rule rigidly when the situation clearly calls for flexibility is not seen as disciplined—they are seen as lacking judgment. The capable individual reads the context and applies the appropriate response, even if that means bending or reinterpreting the formal requirement.

Italians understand true expertise as knowledge that lives in the person—in their experience, their trained senses, their accumulated judgment—rather than in documents, manuals, or systems. A master craftsman’s understanding of materials, a chef’s feel for ingredients, a lawyer’s grasp of how the system actually works—these are forms of knowledge built through years of practice that cannot be fully captured in written procedures.

This means expertise is developed through apprenticeship and experience, not through standardized training programs. It also means that processes depending on documented procedures are trusted less than processes depending on experienced, knowledgeable individuals. The investment in quality is an investment in people, not in systems.

How something is done, how it looks, and how it is received by others are integral parts of whether it has been done properly. In Italian culture, quality includes an aesthetic and social dimension. A work product should not only be technically correct but also carefully presented. A proposal should be not only accurate but elegant.

A meal should be not only nourishing but beautiful. This reflects the broader cultural value of “bella figura”—presenting oneself and one’s work in a way that reflects care, competence, and respect. Neglecting the presentational dimension of work—producing something functional but careless in appearance or delivery—signals a lack of professionalism and care, regardless of the technical quality underneath.