About ten years ago I was fascinated by a highly counterintuitive book on Quantum Biology, Life on the edge. There are moments in the history of science when a set of ideas, for decades confined to equations and laboratory benches, suddenly migrate into the language of politics, finance and diplomacy. Quantum technologies are living precisely such a moment. For a long time, “quantum” was an adjective reserved for theoretical physicists and a handful of specialised engineers. Today, it appears in national strategies, industrial roadmaps and security doctrines. It has become a keyword for a deeper transition: from the classical digital world we have known for half a century to a new layer of infrastructure in which the rules of information, measurement and computation are subtly but decisively different.
To understand what is at stake, it is useful to remember that we are not starting from zero. The first digital revolution was already “quantum” in its foundations. Transistors, lasers, magnetic resonance: all of these depend on quantum mechanics, but they do so in a diffuse, statistical way. Engineers did not need to manipulate individual atoms or photons. They designed devices whose behaviour could be described, at least effectively, with classical models. The new wave is different. It is explicitly about taking the most counter-intuitive features of the quantum world—superposition, entanglement, interference—and turning them into controllable resources.
In this perspective, the qubit is not just a technical term: it is almost a symbol. A qubit is a physical system—an ion, a superconducting circuit, a trapped atom, a photon—that can be prepared in a superposition of two states we call “0” and “1”. When several qubits are entangled, they inhabit a space of possibilities that grows exponentially with their number. We are still very far from fully exploiting this potential; the devices available today are noisy, fragile, and limited in scale. Yet, even in this “intermediate” regime, they already suggest a new way of thinking. Instead of asking whether quantum machines will replace classical ones, it may be more fruitful to ask how they will cooperate, in hybrid architectures that combine quantum processors, high-performance classical computing and artificial intelligence.
The relationship with AI is particularly revealing. On one side, quantum algorithms promise to accelerate some of the mathematical routines that sit at the heart of modern machine learning: optimisation in high-dimensional spaces, sampling from complex distributions, certain forms of linear algebra. On the other side, AI itself is increasingly used to operate quantum hardware: neural networks tune the delicate control pulses that manipulate qubits, reinforcement learning agents search for optimal error-mitigation strategies, advanced data analysis helps to diagnose and reduce noise. Instead of two separate revolutions, we begin to see a single, entangled stack in which quantum and AI continually reinforce each other.
This convergence acquires a special significance when we look at the energy–climate nexus. Many central challenges of the net-zero transition are, at their core, problems of overwhelming complexity. Power grids with high shares of variable renewables must be balanced in real time under uncertainty; materials for batteries, catalysts and membranes must be designed at the molecular level; industrial processes must be simulated and optimised across multiple scales. These are precisely the types of problems where quantum simulation and optimisation, supported by AI and classical supercomputing, may gradually offer an advantage.
The vision that is emerging is not one of a miraculous machine that will “solve climate change”, as some sensational headlines would suggest. It is, rather, the idea that quantum-enhanced tools could become part of a wider repertoire for decarbonisation: helping to discover more efficient materials for electrolysers and CO₂ capture, to operate energy systems with higher shares of renewables, to understand and manage systemic risks in increasingly complex infrastructures. If this vision is realised with sobriety, it may contribute in a tangible way to the net-zero agenda.
At the same time, we would misunderstand the moment if we only told the optimistic half of the story. Quantum infrastructures are themselves demanding in terms of energy and resources. Superconducting qubits need to be cooled to temperatures close to absolute zero; this requires sophisticated cryogenics, specialised materials and non-trivial amounts of electricity. Competing platforms—ions in electromagnetic traps, neutral atoms in optical lattices, integrated photonic chips—have their own footprints, both in fabrication and operation. And the AI systems that interact with quantum hardware typically run in data centres whose energy and water consumption is already a matter of global concern.
For this reason, any discourse on “quantum for climate” must be honest: we cannot simply put quantum technologies on the side of the solution and forget that they are also part of the problem. A thoughtful approach requires life-cycle analysis, a careful look at supply chains, and a deliberate effort to make the quantum–AI stack itself more efficient and compatible with planetary boundaries. Research on low-power control electronics, more compact architectures, and new materials is not only a matter of performance; it is also a matter of responsibility.
Around this technical and environmental core, a broader strategic landscape is taking shape. In a remarkably short time, quantum technologies have become a terrain of geopolitical competition. Governments speak of quantum in the same breath as they speak of digital sovereignty, strategic autonomy and national security. They fear, with some justification, that a cryptographically relevant quantum computer could one day break the codes that protect state communications, financial transactions and critical infrastructures. In response, they are investing in post-quantum cryptography and in quantum-safe communication networks, even before the threat fully materialises.
This dynamic creates a familiar tension. On one side, quantum research is intrinsically global. It relies on open scientific collaboration, on the circulation of students and ideas, on the sharing of data and benchmarks. On the other, security concerns push in the opposite direction, towards export controls, investment screening, and a more restrictive approach to knowledge flows. Quantum is not the first technology to occupy this dual space between civil and military uses, but the speed and intensity of the current competition give the question a new urgency.
Here the parallel with AI governance is instructive. The issues that surround large-scale AI systems—concentration of power in a few platforms, opacity of decision-making, asymmetries between those who design infrastructures and those who merely depend on them—reappear, often amplified, in the quantum domain. The convergence of quantum and AI in sensitive sectors such as cybersecurity, finance and surveillance raises the stakes further. It is not hard to imagine scenarios in which quantum-accelerated optimisation and analysis could exacerbate market volatility, distort competitive playing fields, or strengthen intrusive data-collection architectures.
In front of these scenarios, governance is not a luxury that can be added ex post; it is a constitutive dimension. The question is not only how many qubits a country or a company can control, but which frameworks of meaning and value will guide the use of those qubits. This is why the debate on standards, ethical guidelines and regulatory approaches to quantum technologies cannot be postponed until devices are mature and ubiquitous. There is a window—narrow, but real—in which scientific, technical, legal and ethical reflection can still co-evolve.
Europe’s response is instructive. In recent strategy documents, the European Union increasingly presents quantum technologies as part of a broader effort to anchor digital transformation in the language of rights, democracy and environmental sustainability. Large flagship programmes support research and early industrialisation; at the same time, there is attention to values, to the protection of fundamental rights, to the role of public institutions. Europe does not want to be a mere adopter of technologies imported from elsewhere; it aims to shape their direction.
For Italy, this moment is both demanding and promising. The country has a strong tradition in physics and engineering, with respected schools in quantum optics, condensed matter, information theory. It has an industrial fabric that spans energy, manufacturing, aerospace, robotics, precision mechanics, and an emerging ecosystem of start-ups and innovative SMEs. At the same time, Italy is not a technological superpower in the narrow sense: it cannot simply outspend larger players. Its strength lies elsewhere, in the ability to combine scientific and technical competence with a long-standing humanistic and spiritual heritage, and with a specific vocation for mediation and dialogue.
In the quantum context, this combination could translate into a distinctive role. Italy can and should invest in laboratories, infrastructures and talent. But it can also help to articulate a more comprehensive vision of what a human-centred quantum future might look like: one in which technological ambition is tempered by attention to justice, inclusion and the common good; in which quantum and AI are deployed to support social cohesion and ecological transition, rather than to fuel new asymmetries and forms of exclusion.
Such a vision would rest on a few simple, but demanding, commitments. The first is a commitment to purpose. Not every possible application of quantum technologies deserves the same priority. In a world of finite resources, both material and political, it is legitimate to ask which projects concretely advance human dignity, reduce suffering, strengthen peace, and which merely satisfy curiosity or commercial appetite. The second commitment concerns justice. If quantum infrastructures become essential to economic and security architectures, access to them risks deepening the divide between those who can afford to participate and those who remain spectators. Mechanisms of sharing, cooperation and capacity-building will be necessary to avoid a new technological fracture superimposed on existing inequalities.
A third commitment is transparency and accountability. Quantum systems are intrinsically complex and, for the non-specialist, almost opaque. This makes it all the more important that the institutions and communities who develop and deploy them are subject to forms of oversight, dialogue and public scrutiny. Here again, the experience accumulated in the AI field—imperfect and incomplete as it is—can offer useful lessons. Finally, there is the commitment to dialogue between different forms of knowledge. Quantum mechanics itself, with its paradoxes and its resistance to classical intuition, has historically stimulated philosophical and even theological reflection. The new quantum technologies invite us to renew that dialogue, not in search of premature harmonisations, but to ensure that the metaphors, narratives and expectations surrounding these tools are not monopolised by a purely technocratic imagination. HSeen in this light, quantum technologies are more than a promising industrial sector or a new instrument in the geopolitical arsenal. They are also a mirror in which our societies reveal their ambitions and their fears, their sense of vulnerability and their desire for control. The way we choose to explore this new territory—what we fund, what we regulate, what we forbid, what we celebrate—will tell us much about the civilisation we are becoming.
If we succeed in orienting the quantum–AI stack towards the service of life, peace and the integrity of creation, this chapter of technological history will not be reduced to the count of qubits or patents. It will instead be remembered as a moment in which humanity learned, once again, to transform a deeper understanding of matter and information into a deeper responsibility for the world we inhabit.