by Mauro Botti
Sunday Morning - November 9, 2025
Copyright Sunday Morning
Rudy Novena, director and secretary of AGNA: "Our first 20 years"
Quando l’amore finisce ma l’essere genitori no
There are doors that don't close with a loud bang, but slowly, as if to apologize. A handle turns, a step recedes, and silence enters the rooms like an uninvited guest. Families, when they're born, are filled with sounds: laughter in the hallway, games on the floor, voices calling from one room to another.
When they break, however, empty spaces remain. It's not a crash, it's not a violent fracture. It's something everyday: a cup left there, a bedroom left standing still, a weekend emptying, a routine that no longer knows who owns it. Children don't talk about it. They simply wait: a message, a day marked on the calendar, permission, a decision. They wait on a different timescale than adults. For them, a month is infinite, a year is an entire season of growth. Meanwhile, adults, in the midst of separation, flounder in their own grief and believe they are the only ones suffering. But children are in the middle, in the fragile part, the place where no one ever raises their voices. It is there that, on December 1, 2005, AGNA (Association of Parents in Care) was born in Rivera. Not as an ideological movement, not as an angry reaction, but as an answer to the simplest and most difficult question: how do you remain a parent when love ends? That evening, more than fifty people showed up. Many fathers, especially. Fathers who suddenly became "guests" in their children's lives. Fathers without a signature, without the right to decide, without a daily routine. The state didn't see them. The institutions didn't listen to them. Their children waited for them. AGNA was born from this void: to put a chair in the midst of the fall, to give a voice to those who don't want to lose the most important bond in their lives. And leading it today is Rudy Novena, who before becoming director was a father who lost, waited, and, after twenty years, found again. Because some bonds are broken, but not erased. Some pains never end, but can be transformed. Some stories don't end: they are lived through.
How was AGNA born in 2005?
It stems from a lack. Everything was missing: the law, support, tools. Non-custodial parents, mostly fathers, suddenly found themselves cut off from their children. They had no parental authority, no say in decisions. The separation turned them into visitors. We published an appeal in the newspaper, and more than fifty people showed up. It was clear from the start that this wasn't an isolated case: it was a collective, submerged grief.
Were you initially a self-help group?
Yes. We met to support each other. But when you're immersed in conflict, you lose clarity. Personal stories weren't enough. We needed someone capable of reading the situation from the outside, with expertise, without being overwhelmed by it. That's when we realized we needed to structure ourselves.
And this is how the help desk was born?
In 2007, we created a space where lawyers and psychologists work together. Not separate paths, not one after the other: sitting at the same table. One helps sort out emotions, the other helps sort out the law. First, we address the wound, then we address the process. It's a way of supporting, not judging.
How many branches are there today?
Four. One in Sopraceneri, two in Lugano, one in Mendrisiotto. And it's a model that over time has shown how necessary it is. The people who arrive aren't asking for a victory: they're asking not to get lost.
You have chosen a different path than those who aim for public confrontation.
Yes. There are those who report, those who accuse, those who raise their voices. We have chosen to collaborate with the institutions. It's a slower process, but it creates real change. Conflict generates attention, but not always solutions. We work towards solutions.
What concrete results have you achieved over the years?
Together with other organizations, we've contributed to the widespread adoption of joint parental authority at the federal level. And we've developed the MOOC model, which not only calculates financial contributions but also takes into account childcare time. Because raising a child isn't about paying for something: it's about being there. Making breakfast, going to school meetings, accompanying them in their daily lives.
Let's talk about parental alienation. It's a topic that affects you personally.
It's an experience I've lived. My son didn't want to see me for years. When it happened, the phenomenon didn't yet have a recognized name, and public discussion focused on definitions rather than consequences. But the point isn't what you call it: it's understanding that a child, when faced with a conflict between adults, makes choices to survive. Twenty years later, we've found each other again. Now we're rebuilding. It's a deep wound, but the last word hasn't been said.
Who comes to your counters today?
Everyone. Fathers, mothers, couples together, grandparents trying to figure out how to support their grandchildren, older children wanting to protect their siblings. Sometimes the children themselves come forward when they see that their parents can no longer communicate with each other. Space is for the family, not for one party.
What is the ultimate goal?
May a child never lose one of their parents. A parent's love is like a root: if you cut it, it never grows the same again. Co-parenting isn't a mathematical formula; it's an act of responsibility toward a child's emotional life.
Why is the December 1st support dinner important?
Because much of our work is voluntary. Psychologists, lawyers, and staff members dedicate their time and expertise for nominal compensation. But ensuring continuity and a real presence requires resources. This isn't charity: it's protecting the emotional stability of families. Those who support AGNA support the children who are in the middle, and who shouldn't be left alone.
