All or None: Cooperation and Sustainability in Italy's Red Belt 9781785339813

Table of contents :
CONTENTS
List of Illustrations
List of Maps and Tables
Preface
Acknowledgments
List of Abbreviations
Chapter 1. “Alice Nel Paese Delle Meraviglie” (Alice [the Anthropologist] in Wonderland)
Chapter 2. Ravenna—Then and Now
Chapter 3. The Red Belt
Chapter 4. Underneath All, the Land
Chapter 5. Land to Those Who Work Her
Chapter 6. Top Down or Bottom Up?
Chapter 7. Making Work
Chapter 8. Working Together
Conclusion
Glossary
References
Index

Citation preview

A LL O R N O N E

A N TH ROP OLO GY OF EU ROPE

General Editors: Monica Heintz, University of Paris Ouest Nanterre La Défense Patrick Heady, Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology Europe, a region characterized by its diversity and speed of change, is the latest area to attract current anthropological research and scholarship that challenges the prevailing views of classical anthropology. Situated at the frontier of the social sciences and humanities, the anthropology of Europe is born out of traditional ethnology, anthropology, folklore, and cultural studies, but engages in innovative interdisciplinary approaches. Anthropology of Europe publishes fieldwork monographs by young and established scholars, as well as edited volumes on particular regions or aspects of European society. The series pays special attention to studies with a strong comparative component, addressing theoretical questions of interest to both anthropologists and other scholars working in related fields. Volume 1 The France of the Little-Middles: A Suburban Housing Development in Greater Paris Marie Cartier, Isabelle Coutant, Olivier Masclet, and Yasmine Siblot Volume 2 European Anthropologies Edited by Andrés Barrera-González, Monica Heintz, and Anna Horolets Volume 3 All or None: Cooperation and Sustainability in Italy’s Red Belt Alison Sánchez Hall

A LL O R N O N E Cooperation and Sustainability in Italy’s Red Belt

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬ Alison Sánchez Hall

berghahn NEW YORK • OXFORD www.berghahnbooks.com

First published in 2018 by Berghahn Books www.berghahnbooks.com © 2018 Alison Sánchez Hall

All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purposes of criticism and review, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without written permission of the publisher.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A C.I.P. cataloging record is available from the Library of Congress

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978-1-78533-980-6 hardback ISBN 978-1-78533-981-3 ebook

To the memory of my father, Robert Odell Bland (1920–1994), who was ahead of his time and moved “back to the land” to Arkansas from California in the 1970s in search of water and sustainability.

“‘All or none’ was not just a saying. It was put into practice, and it is absolutely necessary to realize this in order to understand the utopia of Ravenna.” —Pietro Albonetti

CO N T E N TS

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬ List of Illustrations List of Maps and Tables Preface Acknowledgments List of Abbreviations Chapter 1. “Alice Nel Paese Delle Meraviglie” (Alice [the Anthropologist] in Wonderland)

viii x xii xviii xx

1

Chapter 2. Ravenna—Then and Now

21

Chapter 3. The Red Belt

60

Chapter 4. Underneath All, the Land

83

Chapter 5. Land to Those Who Work Her

104

Chapter 6. Top Down or Bottom Up?

141

Chapter 7. Making Work

157

Chapter 8. Working Together

184

Conclusion

212

Glossary

222

References

226

Index

245

I LLU ST R ATIONS

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬ Figure 1.1. Alice the Anthropologist, 1980

2

Figure 1.2. Strike in reverse, 1972

5

Figure 2.1. The Lombardinis with new house attached to old one still used for cooking, 1972

25

Figure 2.2. Valentina Ballardini and the anthropologist’s daughter Juliana, 1980

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Figure 2.3. Former tenant farm home (Massari Braccianti Cooperative), 2010

41

Figure 2.4. Tampieri-Patuelli restored tenant farm home, 2012

44

Figure 2.5. Giuliana Ballardini buying bread at multigenerational family-owned bakery, 2012

46

Figure 2.6. Ernesto and Adriana Ballardini shelling peas, 2012

47

Figure 2.7. Giordano Ballardini with granddaughter Cristina, 2012

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Figure 2.8. Dania, Giordana, Andrea (the Tomato King), and Barbara Bersani, 2010

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Figure 2.9. Family-owned dairy, 2010

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Figure 2.10. Ballardinis’ great-great-granddaughter Emma in giant tomato harvester, 2010

56

Figure 2.11. Alice the Anthropologist with three generations of Bersani women, 2010

57

illustrations

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Figure 3.1. Mario Tampieri at a former fascist landowner’s palazzo (palace) in Mezzano, 2010

69

Figure 3.2. Rice weeders (mondine), circa 1950

70

Figure 3.3. Giordene Ranieri Bartoletti’s mother, 1972

71

Figure 4.1. Wheelbarrowers at work, circa 1900

96

Figure 5.1. The anarchist Andrea Costa in 1880 (1851–1910)

106

Figure 5.2. Nullo Baldini and daughter, 1930

110

Figure 5.3. The wheelbarrowers, circa 1900

114

Figure 7.1. Women returning from strike, 1956

160

Figure 7.2. Effect of introduction of new sugar beet seed on employment in 1972

175

Figure 7.3. Relationship between mechanization expense and increase in labor hours on collective farms in the larga in 1972

176

M A PS A N D TA BLES

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬ Map 0.1. Italy with location of the “Red Belt” province of Ravenna, the Po Delta, and the Region of Emilia Romagna

xxi

Map 0.2. The province of Ravenna with rivers, topography and agricultural zones, towns, and locations of collective farms in 1972

xxii

Map 0.3. Post–World War II land tenure with large capitalist, small private, and tenant farm zones and 2012 Northern League right-wing strongholds in the “Red Belt”

xxiv

Table 2.1. Mergers and Current Holdings and Membership in Ravenna Braccianti Cooperatives

30

Table 2.2. Members of Cooperatives in the Province of Ravenna

33

Table 2.3. Italian Cooperative Movement, 2006

34

Table 2.4. Collective Farms in the Large-Farm Larga Zone, Province of Ravenna, 1972

35

Table 2.5. Collective Farms in the Small-Farm Appoderata Zone, Province of Ravenna, 1972

36

Table 2.6. Collective Farms in the Hilly Collina Zone, Province of Ravenna, 1972

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Table 2.7. Farm Sizes in Italy, 2016

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Table 2.8. Distribution of Annual Employment of Braccianti in the Province of Ravenna, 1972

59

maps and tables

xi

Table 5.1. Workers’ and Mutual Aid Societies in Romagna to 1870

107

Table 5.2. Growth of “Red” Braccianti Collectives, 1913–2015

130

Table 7.1. Membership in Agricultural Unions in the Province of Ravenna, 1947

159

Table 7.2. Number of Farms in the Province of Ravenna, 2010

164

Table 7.3. Gross Agricultural Sales and Land Use in the Province of Ravenna, 1961–2014

173

PR E FACE

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬

B

ecause this book is about Italy, we begin in Vatican City with Pope Francis, who “has over the last four years been supporting and guiding a global association of ‘excluded workers’ like garbage pickers and migrant laborers, acting as their visible leader.” He envisions the idea of “a ‘social economy’ that invests in people and opens access to ownership and opportunity by spreading work.” In addressing these groups, Francis tells them “that the future of humanity is in great measure in your own hands, through your ability to organize and carry out creative alternatives, through your daily efforts to ensure the three L’s (labor, lodging, land)” (Ivereigh 2017). The pope is serious about the way “neoliberal globalism weakens local ties and benefits educated elites at the expense of the common man,” but he is not pessimistic about the future. His lack of pessimism in the face of a worldwide concentration of wealth and power so pernicious that it even influences what people think they know, what they believe, and whom they elect is reminiscent of James Baldwin’s words about race relations in the United States. Those words are even more relevant today: I can’t be a pessimist because I’m alive. To be a pessimist means that you have agreed that human life is an academic matter, so I’m forced to be an optimist. I’m forced to believe that we can survive whatever we must survive. (Peck 2017)

This book is not about politics or faith. It is about how academic anthropology might provide more than a narrowly dispassionate empirical analysis of humanity’s decline. Introductory texts promote anthropology as a “mirror for man” (Kluckhohn 1949), and as a field whose purpose is “to make us aware of ourselves and our society and thus transform our self-awareness into knowledge and security” (Bohannan 1963: 14). The theme of the 2017 American Anthropological Association’s annual meetings is “Anthropology Matters.” If there ever was a time when all knowledge should be focused on

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solving human problems, it is now. Even Forbes business magazine tells us that “Unless It Changes, Capitalism Will Starve Humanity by 2050” (Hansen 2016). My central thesis is this: the pope is right about the future of humanity being in our own hands. Furthermore, I would add, if people work together, economics does not have to be such a “dismal science.” As scholars who specialize in studying the brief history of Homo sapiens on this planet, anthropologists know we should not point to human nature, as with original sin, to excuse bad, or even primarily self-interested, behavior (Binford 1972). We often write in the first person because we are influenced by different perspectives and seek answers to different questions. Some, for example, might want to know how forty thousand Pueblo Indians lived in what is now the southwestern United States without an authority backed by force, and would notice harmonious values and individual personalities that are gentle, nonaggressive, cooperative, and modest. Others, whose questions involve the effects of a cooperative society on the individual, would instead notice the way children seem coerced into suppressing their individualism in ways that cause them to become neurotic adults filled with covert hostility (Stocking 1989: 250). Neither interpretation is clearly right or wrong. My questions here concern cooperation and sustainability: Is there a cooperative side of our human nature that is inhibited by our culture? Or, is human nature to blame for preventing Homo sapiens (“thinking” or “wise” man) from developing cooperative and sustainable ways of coexisting on this planet? And will things, as Erik Reece believes, “only get worse if we don’t engage in some serious utopian thinking” (cited in Kapur 2016)? John Bodley has spent his career researching and writing about global Victims of Progress (1982). His new book The Small Nation Solution (2013) tells us that the problems facing humanity are not with capitalism per se. Bodley’s anthropologically based “scale and power theory” challenges the “delusion that perpetual economic growth within an elite-driven model of globalization is the solution to all our problems.” He sees unlimited growth as “a problem not a solution” (Bodley 2013: 36). Bodley is not the only anthropologist who has observed how the small pre-literate groups we have traditionally studied operate with limited exploitation of the environment and each other. Despite the material wealth in modern large-scale societies run by governments elected democratically, the average person does not feel as free, or as secure in access to resources, as our tribal ancestors did for most of human history, during which time our human nature was evolving. Out of 150,000 years of human history, it was only 7,000 years ago that humans began to deal with an “unending pursuit of growth.” This is when “aggrandizing individuals . . . in times of crisis . . . convinced their followers to accept them as rulers, rather than as leaders, and to pay them tribute”

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(ibid.: 7). Judging from current events, the severe inequality that has been increasing in our modern era is wreaking havoc. It seems reasonable to conclude that this defies human nature and is not sustainable. Ants are innately good totalitarian subjects; humans are not. Bodley provides many examples of the successes of smaller-scale democratic societies with less inequality as measured by the Gini index (ibid.: 48–49). His small-nation models of sustainable systems have values that are capitalist (some of his best tribal friends are capitalists), communalist, or ecological. His point is simply that “for democratic processes to function effectively, decision making power over wealth needs to be widely distributed, not concentrated in a few hands” (ibid.: 195). One of Bodley’s models for a future transformation of the global system that would prioritize social and ecological sustainability over further concentration of wealth is the Mondragón network of cooperatives in the Basque region of Spain. Although located in a large nation-state, the Basque region is one of nineteen largely decentralized regions established by Spain’s 1978 constitution. Although such decentralization may be a necessary cause of improved democratic decision-making, it is unfortunately not a sufficient cause. Italy’s 1948 constitution, which specifically states that Italy is a nation founded on work and that cooperatives of all kinds were to be encouraged, and which even limited the rights of private property, also delegated substantial power to its twenty decentralized regions. But one region in the north has more cooperatives and less inequality than all the others, while entrenched poverty and a strong presence of the Mafia characterize many areas in the south. In the United States, decentralization leads to mixed results. On the one hand, individual cities and states have acted independently to provide healthcare, increase minimum wages, and address climate change. On the other, powerful groups backed by billionaires, with unlimited funds to spend on propaganda, are essentially taking over state legislatures to pass favorable laws and have designs on rewriting the U.S. Constitution (Hartmann 2017). Bodley’s basic premise “is that the biggest problems that are happening in the world are caused by misguided growth directed by fallible human decision makers” (2013: 36). Throughout human history, unintended consequences of intentional actions have led to resource depletion, wars, and the seemingly inevitable incorporation of smaller societies into larger ones and into worldwide systems that operate as if humans did not exist (Harris 1989a: 495, 501). Anthropological studies of culture change typically focus on “changes in cultures as systems” and not “on deliberate intent by members of a society” (Wallace 1956: 267). An exception is religious revitalization movements where culture change can come about when people under stress unite to

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“create a more satisfying culture,” a process that is so common that “few men have lived who have not been involved” (ibid.). Due to the spread of new communication systems, modern revitalization movements do not have to be religious. Neither are they necessarily “based on charismatic leadership or monitored by professional revolutionaries or intellectuals” (Khosrokhavar 2012: 150–51). Even though intentional attempts to change culture rarely achieve desired results, intentional actions of individuals, organizations, and movements can and do shape decision-making and culture change. They can end wars, expand civil rights, protect constitutional principles, and reduce inequality (as in cooperatives or employee-owned businesses). And if individuals and groups, working together on local and state levels, do not unite to stop them, groups such as the Mafia in Italy and billionaires in the United States can and will intentionally become so powerful that they can take over governments and rule the world. This book is about the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy where landless laborers joined together in unions, cooperatives, and political parties to intentionally shape a more humane agriculture and adjust with minimum disruption to the technological changes that ultimately caused their class to disappear. Italy’s “Red Belt” is a region where decentralization actually works, where “the left came to power and didn’t make a mess” (Fitch 1996), and where, despite many changes associated with globalization and even the rise of right-wing populism, primarily in other parts of the country (Passarelli and Tuorto 2014: 66), there is still less inequality here than anywhere else in Italy (Ciccarelli 2016). Like bumblebees that aerodynamically should not be able to fly, collective experiments are often thought to be impossibly utopian, going against immutable laws of human nature, and sealing their fate by either disregarding the world as it is ( Jennings 2016: 384) or having “too much commercial dependence with the outside world” (Erasmus 1984: 166). But in the province of Ravenna, a unique cooperative spirit grew out of deprivation and misery. It led to strikes, occupation of land, a tradition of tenacious nonviolence, and mutual dependence. Placards placed in neglected fields declared “Questo Terreno e Mal Coltivato,” or “This Land Is Poorly Cultivated” (and thus should belong to the workers), and “La Terra a Chi La Lavora” (“The Land to Those Who Work Her”). The slogan “Tutti o Nessuno” (“All or None”) sent a message to landowners that they would not have any workers to work their land unless they used it to provide not only capitalist profit but also jobs and well-being for everyone. This Italian project provided a rare opportunity to add to the literature on cooperatives a positive example of how a voluntary socialist endeavor survived in Ravenna, Italy, for over 130 years by finding its niche within the hostile world surrounding it. The research design for my 1972 study included

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an investigation of ethnohistorical and cultural-ecological causes for the success of the world’s oldest voluntary nongovernmental agricultural production cooperatives (also known as “collective farms,” which in Ravenna are called “farmworker agricultural cooperatives” or “farmworker cooperatives” for short). The 2010–14 study focuses on the persistence of the cooperative spirit, the economic effect of the collectives on two generations of member families and their communities, and efforts throughout Italy to expand the worker collectives to address unemployment. There is no comprehensive case study in English on the Ravenna collectives and their practical value to cooperative, intentional social change experiments elsewhere, despite their theoretical significance to the humanities and social sciences. If collective farms in Ravenna were able to survive and successfully compete for over a hundred years, the idea that attempts to provision the collective good will inevitably fail has to be reassessed. How and why they have changed to meet new challenges of globalization over the last forty-five years is another important question. In the United States, the Ravenna experience is relevant to everyone whose livelihoods, human rights, and civil rights are threatened, as well as to the increasing number of American consumers searching for alternatives to our dominant food system through participation in farmers’ markets and community-supported agriculture programs. For these reasons, I made several trips to Italy from 2010 to 2014 to revisit the Ravenna collectives for the first time in forty years. It was an unusual anthropological opportunity for me to successfully locate and interview the same families and their descendants, investigate the variables that were originally concluded to explain success, and compare development processes historically and cross-culturally. What follows is the story of how a group of people, working together, intentionally created a collective movement that arguably led to a more sustainable “agro-ecological,” as opposed to “agri-business,” model of agricultural development. While the study is necessarily descriptive and ethnohistorical, it explores the relevance of the experience of this small group of Homo sapiens along Italy’s northeastern Adriatic coast to anthropological theory and to the outside world. Unless otherwise noted, all Italian-English translations and paraphrases are mine. Chapter 1 is an overview of the Ravenna collectives and theoretical issues of cooperation and intentional social change. Chapter 2 introduces readers to the province of Ravenna, the role of cooperatives in the economy and society, their socioeconomic benefits to communities, and the changes that have occurred since the 1970s. Chapter 3 focuses on the ethos of cooperation in the “Red Belt” of the Emilia-Romagna region. To explain the origin and persistence of that unique regional ethos, chapters 4 and 5 trace the ethnohistorical relationships between land tenure, people, and power, and the

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sociopolitical development of the collectives from mutual aid societies to large landowning modern farms. Chapter 6 compares the results of authoritarian state edicts and market-based capitalist reforms with grassroots cooperation to show why the latter has had such success in Ravenna. Chapter 7 compares collectives with private forms of agriculture to show the comparative advantages of cooperation of all kinds in Ravenna, and chapter 8 describes how worker-managed collective organizations in Ravenna operated to provide employment and insure fair remuneration to members. The final chapter concludes the study by exploring the reasons for the strengths and shortcomings of these collectives, their relevance to anthropological theory, and implications for intentional attempts to change the “end of history” in Southern Italy and elsewhere. This book is my personal interpretation of the contemporary viability of cooperative enterprise and my way of thanking those cooperators from Ravenna by telling their story to the Englishspeaking world. —Alison Sánchez Hall Little Rock, Arkansas, 2018

A C K N O W LE D G M E N TS

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬

M

ost of the credit for this book has to go to the cooperators from Ravenna, Italy, who taught me alternatives to our current way of life. From the small town of Longastrino, Ernesto Ballardini was a deserter from Mussolini’s army. His wife Adriana did not recognize him when he arrived at their door after walking home from Russia. He supported his family by fishing in the swamps at night and hiding from the Germans and fascists during the day. Although the fascists took away everything they had, they rebuilt their lives after the war through the development of a strong collective farm, agricultural labor union, and political movement. I learned from the Ballardinis that fulfillment in life comes not only from having family and work but also from associating with others for the common good. This is the type of “social capital” (described by Robert Putnam) that Alexis de Tocqueville thought was the key to making American democracy work. Special recognition must go to the family of my dear friend, the late Lisetta Rivalta Arevalos from Ravenna, who made sure I could occasionally take a long hot bath during my 1972–74 anthropological participant observation fieldwork. Her sons Dan, Matteo, and Jimmy and their friend Gerardo Langone maintained the close connection between our families for over forty years. The enthusiasm for cooperation of those who worked in the management of the League of Cooperatives in Ravenna—the late Mario Tampieri and Guido Brighi, Pietro Pasini, Giovanni Errani, and others—left an indelible impression. Paola Patuelli, daughter of World War II partisans, helped me understand the importance to the cooperative movement of the political, economic, and cultural vacuum that followed the defeat of fascism. Luciano Lucci, whose love of his native Alfonsine is reflected in his website, provided an invaluable source of current local politics. Rosa, Gino, Carmen, Massimo, and their friend Paolo were wonderful hosts at the Tra le Braccia de Morfeo Bed and Breakfast in Ravenna.

acknowledgments

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I am grateful to historian Pietro Albonetti, who not only translated the crucial study by Friedrich Vöchting from German to Italian but also was the only Italian to read and comment on my English manuscript. I have not forgotten Sergio Nardi or the staff at the Oriani Library in Ravenna where I spent many long days struggling to read Italian sources. I also thank Marcella Montanari for her research assistance while I was relearning Italian after a forty-year hiatus, the volunteers at the Ravenna Cooperators’ Circle (Circolo Cooperatori Ravennate) archives, the staff at Longo publishers, Andrea Baravelli of the University of Ferrara, and University of Bologna faculty Tito Menzani, Roberto Fanfani, and Pier Giorgio Massaretti. I was also very fortunate (and pleasantly surprised) to find many essential Italian sources in the British and New York Public Libraries. With the support of my family and my women friends, Claudia Goldstein, Katherine West, Dr. Patricia “mPata” McGraw, Nancy Radloff, and Marie Horchler, I finally found the determination to make this book a reality. The volunteers I worked with over many years in nonprofit organizations, especially Katy Elliott who founded the Arkansas Sustainability Network and Jean Gordon of Arkansas Women’s Action for New Directions, convinced me of the power of intentional social change. My students, including Jillian Browder, and my colleague Brian Campbell, who epitomizes the dedication and energy of the new generation of anthropologists, inspired me. I am grateful to Dean Maurice Lee and Associate Dean Peter Mehl of the College of Liberal Arts at the University of Central Arkansas, and to my colleagues in the Sociology Department, including Gordon Shepherd, who believed in me, and S. Lynne Rich, who thought enough of the project to go with me to Italy. Anthropologists John Bodley and Michael Blim, and historian David W. Ellwood (who didn’t know me but answered my emails anyway), deserve my respect and gratitude. I am immensely grateful for the encouragement and expertise provided by the publisher, editors, and staff at Berghahn Books. Last, but not least, I would like to acknowledge the late Professor Charles J. Erasmus, my mentor at the University of California at Santa Barbara. Whether or not people can successfully cooperate for the collective good in complex societies is a question that followed him his entire professional career. He passed it on to me, where it has been ever since. Finally, funding for different phases of the study came from the National Science Foundation, the National Endowment for the Humanities, and the University of Central Arkansas.

A BBR EV I ATIONS

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬ CAB: Braccianti Agricultural Cooperative (collective farm) CGIL: “Red” Labor Union CISL: “White” (Catholic) Labor Union CLN: Committee for National Liberation post–World War II CMC: “Red” Construction Cooperative COOP Italia: A national “Red” Consumer Cooperative COR: Ravenna Vegetable and Fruit Consortium Federbraccianti: National labor union for agricultural workers associated with C.G.I.L. Federcoop: Federation of Cooperatives INEA: Italian National Institute of Agricultural Economics Istat: Italian National Institute for Statistics Legacoop: National and Regional Leagues of the “Red” Cooperatives PCI: Italian Communist Party UIL: “Green” (Republican) Labor Union

MAP 0.1. Italy with location of the “Red Belt” province of Ravenna, the Po River Delta, and the region of Emilia Romagna (redrawn by Nancy Radloff )

MAP 0.2. The province of Ravenna with rivers, topography and agricultural zones, towns, and locations of collective farms in 1972 (redrawn by Nancy Radloff )

MAP 0.3. Post–World War II land tenure with large capitalist, small private, and tenant farm zones and 2012 Northern League right-wing strongholds in the “Red Belt” Sources: Medici and Orlando 1952: 166; Barbieri (based on data from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Regions of Tuscany and the Marches) 2012: 283; background topographic map © User: Deusdemona / Wikimedia Commons / CC-BY-SA-3.0. Data overlay by the author and Marie Horchler.

CH A PTER

1 “A LICE NEL PA ESE DELLE MER AV IGLI E” ( A LICE [TH E A N TH ROP OLO GIST ] I N WON D E R L A N D )

 Alice laughed. “There’s no use trying,” she said: “one can’t believe impossible things.” “I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” (Carroll 1871)

C

onditioned by conventional negativity about the usual “failures” of utopian experiments, I went to Italy in 1972 to study the world’s oldest nongovernmental voluntary agricultural production cooperatives. I was prepared to chalk up another statistic in the chronicle of collective failures: perhaps another good explanation about “why they failed.” Instead, I encountered the anomaly of Socialist- and Communist-led agricultural collective farms (then nearly one hundred years old) in a Western capitalist country. Located in the province of Ravenna in Italy’s “Red Belt” region of Emilia-Romagna (map 0.1), these unique worker-managed organizations secured control of 20–25 percent of the rich and valuable land at the mouth of the Po River. They weathered the storms of poverty, violent oppression, disease, economic pressure, mismanagement, depression, war, and fascism. And they did more than simply survive: they built, held onto, and expanded a land base that became a legacy to future generations. I expected to find failure, but instead I found that they provided a substantial

2

all or none

measure of economic benefits for the members and their families, and only required for admission to membership (which was up to 75 percent women in some areas) that one not be a fascist, that one be a farm worker (or owner of insufficient land) of good moral standing (no criminal record and not an alcoholic), and that one pay approximately the equivalent of one US dollar to join. Over the years since 1974, I often wondered how the collective farms had changed. As the United States and world economies headed for collapse in 2008, I recalled my futile attempts to explain to the rural Italians why I had come to study them. Because my name “Alison” wasn’t translatable (and, in retrospect, because they knew had so much to teach me about cooperation), they kept introducing me as “Alice Nel Paese Delle Meraviglie,” which means “Alice in Wonderland” (figure 1.1). Everyone there had seen the movie The Grapes of Wrath (Ford 1940), about my native California, and would then add to their introduction that I had come to learn how to cooperate in order to show Americans how it is done. I came to feel like the first anthropologist in the history of the discipline whose informants thought she came from a backward culture to study their more advanced ways. In 2010, in the light of all the changes that were occurring in my own country, with consumers questioning the logic or even sanity of corporate agriculture, I resolved to go back to Italy to see what had

FIGURE 1.1. Alice the Anthropologist, 1980 Photo by the author

“alice nel paese delle meraviglie”

3

happened. This time, I would take the advice of my informants more seriously and begin to explore the ways in which the Italian experience might be exportable to the United States. My intent in publishing this study is to introduce the English-speaking world to the agricultural production cooperatives in the province of Ravenna along the Adriatic coast in the Italian Po River Valley. Geographically, it is like a miniature version of the Lower Mississippi Delta, which, after California, became my second home. In Ravenna, the relationship between efforts to provide for the collective good and the development of a sustainable agricultural system go hand in hand, and Americans might be surprised to learn that it is a place where small private firms and cooperatives are the economically competitive basis of a participatory democracy. Although the London Times’ business correspondent John Earle was the first to publish (in 1986) a nationwide historical survey, The Italian Cooperative Movement,, it was Harvard political scientist Robert Putnam (Making Democracy Work: Civic Traditions in Modern Italy) who introduced the “Emilian Model” to the United States in 1994. A 1996 Nation magazine article by Robert Fitch described the Italian region of Emilia-Romagna as having a well-managed and uniquely Italian entrepreneurial brand of “municipal socialism.” He reported that its communities, according to Italian polls, were the best places to live and that the region boasted the lowest unemployment rate in Italy and the tenth highest GDP of all 122 regions in Europe (1996). Canadians John Restakis and Bob Williams cofounded the Summer Program for Cooperative Studies in Bologna. A 2003 article by Bob Williams described the partnership in Emilia-Romagna between the regional government, university and nonprofit research institutes, and associations of enterprises. He noted that the region had approximately one enterprise for every twelve residents (2003). In 2006, John Logue, professor of political science at Kent State, proposed importing the Emilian model to Ohio. His Ohio Employee Ownership Center at Kent State was inspired by Thomas Jefferson’s idea that democracy would succeed in the United States because of the widespread ownership of productive assets, the economic independence of citizens, and the absence of a history of feudalism (Logue and Yates 2001: 9). To Logue, workers’ cooperatives are a realistic modern equivalent to small owner-operated farms and shops (2006). Published in 2010, after ten years of summers in Italy and mentoring by the English-speaking Italian economists Stefano and Vera Zamagni, John Restakis’s Humanizing the Economy: Cooperatives in the Age of Capital includes two chapters on the region’s industrial manufacturing cooperatives (knitwear, clothes, ceramic tiles, motorcycles, shoes, equipment), networks of cooperatives and small firms, value-added cooperative enterprises (including agricultural processing, consumer and marketing cooperatives),

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and a construction labor cooperative with large global contracts. Restakis explains how the strong cooperative movement in Emilia-Romagna was a lifeboat in tough economic times and how clusters of small private firms and cooperatives made it possible for both to survive and prosper, even within the global economy (2010: 86). Most recently, American filmmakers Melissa Young and Mark Dworkin released WEconomics: Italy in 2016. It is a short documentary film on the cooperative economy of Emilia-Romagna featuring an interview with Vera Zamagni. The film describes “Northern Italy’s answer to corporate rapacity and state indifference” (Durrenberger 2016) and “beautifully captures the power of cooperatives in a world in desperate need of hope” (Lappé 2016). RAVENNA’S AGRICULTURAL PRODUCTION WORKERS’ COOPERATIVES Less easily understandable from the American point of view, and as yet unknown to the English-speaking world, is the story of the success of the initial collective farms that grew out of earlier Republican and Catholic mutual-aid societies. These are the foundation for the cooperative spirit upon which the “Emilian Model” is based. Historically developed and linked to anarchist ideology and to strong labor unions associated with Italian Socialist and Communist political organizations, the Ravenna collectives are unique in that they still own or lease 12,407 hectares (30,658 acres) of some of the richest and most valuable agricultural land in Europe. The history of the acquisition and use of that land, passed on from generation to generation without being owned by private individuals or the state, provides an enviable example of a more humane economy and society in stark contrast to what developed in my home states of California and Arkansas. The Ravenna collectives are a rare surviving example of collectivization that came about as a spontaneous, voluntary action of agricultural workers who rose to meet the challenge of reclaiming a vast swamp for agricultural use. As we shall see, the Romagnol braccianti, literally the day laborers from Emilia-Romagna who “work with their arms,” were no mere victims or bystanders of history. When pushed off the land that had nurtured their ancestors, they developed unique defense mechanisms to cope with forces within their culture that they saw as negative: the technological displacement of labor by machines, the lack of any kind of humanistic control over the use of technology in agriculture, and the private appropriation and use of the land for the controlling elite economic class. Clinging doggedly to the Romagnol lands and contriving all manner of schemes to squeeze the maximum amount of labor, rigorously shared by all,

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out of a skimpy economy, the Ravenna collectives developed a flexible system of security and “made” work for the individual members. When forced by urgent economic necessity, they resorted to the “strike in reverse,” moving their machines onto unused, privately owned land, eventually forcing it to be sold to the collectives (figure 1.2). These worker-managed enterprises, where productivity depended upon the conscience of the worker-owners, were exceptionally well adapted to an economy characterized by chronic and widespread partial unemployment. They developed sophisticated planting and production plans, based not only on the simple goals of yield and profit in cash but more importantly on the human value of providing work where there may have been no work available, thereby enhancing the incalculable value of survival and human dignity. With only 10.5 percent of the land in the province, collectives in the 1960s provided 50 percent of farmworker income (Baldassari 1971: 10–11). Instead of concealing underemployment as on the peasant farms, and instead of replacing workers as on the large private farms, Ravenna’s collectives utilized technology to maximize employment, dividing it equally among largely female members who worked only part time during the year. My objective in 1972–74 was to conduct an anthropological and ethnohistorical analysis of these oldest surviving collective farms in the world, using established concepts and procedures of the anthropological method. The study was undertaken by the method known as “participant observa-

FIGURE 1.2. Strike in Reverse, 1972 Photo by the author

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tion”: living in the actual setting, being adopted into families, working in the fields, and learning the language (and also, in this case, the local dialect). The participant experiences the daily routine of the people, records the oral history, conducts formal and informal interviews, and attempts to evaluate this total experience from an anthropological point of view. For me this procedure served first and foremost to achieve an insider’s understanding, and after that came the technique of contrasting the various collectives by what is called the “comparative method,” involving ideological, geographical, and economic comparisons between collectives, as well as comparisons of collectives with private forms of agriculture. Above all, through the use of these research techniques I hoped to produce a thorough understanding of the incentives for individual and group membership, using what students of culture like to call a “holistic” approach, the raison d’être of anthropology. Before detailing the history and organizational development of the Ravenna cooperatives in the chapters that follow, I review some of the major theoretical issues connected to cooperation and intentional social change in human communities. COOPERATION IN COMPLEX SOCIETIES Quoting Clyde Kluckhohn, June Nash describes anthropology’s interest in cooperative forms as deriving from the principle that “anthropology seeks to extend the areas which reason can understand and perhaps to some extent control.” It is “this willful control of one’s own social forms” that “makes movements towards cooperative forms of organization an essential part both of the human experience and anthropology’s field of study.” Nash labels the study of cooperative forms as “prospectivist” or “urgent” anthropology, insofar as it “consists of understanding the social forms into which we may be about to move.” Paraphrasing Stanley Diamond, Nash says there is “a focus on a renewed sense of the possibilities of human nature and culture through knowledge of cultural worlds already formed.” She also quotes Marcel Mauss as saying that “the union and the cooperative society are the foundations of the future society generated within the capitalist structure” (Kluckhohn and Diamond and Mauss, cited in Nash, Dandler, and Hopkins 1976: 3–4). David Graeber, in Fragments of an Anarchist Anthropology, concludes that “another world is possible” and that anthropologists can “look at those who are creating viable alternatives, try to figure out what might be the larger implications of what they are (already) doing, and then offer those ideas back, not as prescriptions, but as contributions, possibilities—as gifts” (2004: 10–12).

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In Search of the Common Good: Utopian Experiments Past and Future, written by Charles J. Erasmus and originally published in 1977, is the most comprehensive anthropological analysis on the subject of utopian and collective social experiments to date. In a preface to the 1984 edition, Erasmus wrote that his students studying development (including this author) in the late 1960s and early 1970s were “Maoists” who were disillusioned with the corruption of the capitalist system and expecting to engineer a new world wherein everyone would work according to ability and receive according to need (1984: v). We were not “Maoists,” but we did criticize development schemes involving the teaching of home economics as a solution to poverty. We ridiculed the idea that “lay leadership training” programs could produce real leaders, denounced the notion that instilling the Protestant work ethic would stimulate development, advocated listening to locals for solutions, and proposed doing research that could be practically applied. We were well meaning and naïve, and oblivious to the fact that we were following in the tradition of anthropology as a handmaiden of colonialism and imperialism. “Green,” in the 1960s and 1970s, meant the “Green Revolution.” No one thought to question the wisdom of applying modern petroleum-based “solutions,” the opposite of what we think of as “green” today. In a colossal example of groupthink, everyone at that time jumped to the conclusion that “backward” peasant practices were economically “irrational” and that they should be replaced as quickly as possible by scientific “miracle” seeds, pesticides, fertilizers, and machines that would save the world from starvation and disaster. Young anthropologists of my generation, unlike those of today, did not yet grasp the implications of the 1968 “Man the Hunter” symposium (Lee and DeVore 1973) as to the precariousness of our own existence or the advantages of ancient subsistence traditions over our own dangerous foraging for nonrenewable fossil fuels. Why should studies of cooperation be so important to anthropologists? The answer is simply that underlying all anthropological discussions of human nature in different contexts is the fundamental fact that, unlike many other animals, humans require a life-support system that dictates that people must always work cooperatively in order to fulfill basic needs. Also basic to the anthropological approach is the awareness that assumptions about human nature and human motivation are subject to change in ways we cannot yet fathom as the political, social, and economic conditions are altered in the human environment (Webb 1952). According to historian Timothy Miller, “No generally accepted system of terms describing communalism exists. . . . What to one author is ‘communal’ may be to another ‘cooperative’ or ‘collective’” (1999: xxiv.) But to John Bennett, “The more a community insists on the commonality of its property

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and its rights to define the roles of members, the more ‘communal’ it can be considered” (2017: 171). Ravenna’s agricultural production cooperatives have important similarities to and differences from other types of intentional societies. They differ from communes, for example, which are closely knit communities of people who live together on land that is owned or rented by the group and who share common interests, ideology, production, and consumption. The key characteristic of the commune is that it seeks to establish a total way of life apart from the wider society. In the terminology of one of the founders of sociology, Ferdinand Tönnies, it could be said that communes are attempts to establish Gemeinschaft, or traditional relationships between people. In contrast to the Gesellschaft, or modern type of society based on individualism, the Gemeinschaft society requires a whole set of conditions, namely that the group be small with “face-to-face” relationships, that the individual is subordinate in importance to the group, and that they be united by a single idea in either a “fellowship” or “authoritative” type of relationship (1957: 252–53). These types of organizations ascribe to the communist ideal of “from each according to ability, to each according to need.” Longevity of communes, according to Rosabeth Moss Kanter, is based on the extent to which they employ a combination of commitment mechanisms and manage to balance Gemeinschaft values with a Gesellschaft approach to practical matters (1972). Most communes have a religious foundation and are limited in size and duration. The Hutterites are the world’s most successful example. At the outset of the worker movement in Ravenna in 1884, a group of 550 members organized on communal principles went to colonize and reclaim swamplands at Ostia, near Rome (now the location of the international airport). Although the contract was successfully completed and new contracts awarded as a result, the communal organization was soon abandoned. The flavor of the movement in Ravenna has since been primarily collective rather than communal (Lattanzi, Lattanzi, and Isaja 2008). The exception was the informal collettivi, or labor cooperatives, that sprang up in each rural town in Ravenna after World War II to divide work on private farms. Here remuneration was divided more along communal principles— more work for those with large families, equal pay for men and women, and payments to members whether they worked or not. On an agricultural production cooperative (a collective farm as opposed to the informal Italian collettivi), production is typically organized on a group basis and remunerated by wages on the principle of quantity but not quality of labor contributed. The members of a collective farm have no individual claim to the land belonging to them as a group. Consumption is individual and takes place outside of the collective. The key to the collective is production. This is why they are called “agricultural production cooperatives.” They

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are typically based on the socialist idea of “from each according to ability, to each according to work.” Cooperatives, on the other hand, are mutually beneficial associations of individuals, families, or organizations who group together to make purchases and provide goods or services for members. They differ from capitalist joint stock companies in that they provide goods and services to members as individuals at cost and usually make decisions on the Rochdale principle of one person, one vote. Some cooperatives have modified the Rochdale principle to make decisions on the basis of quantity of product conferred to the cooperative. Although Rochdale members may be required to make loans to the capital fund, and may receive interest, profits are not distributed on the basis of capital shares. According to Kenneth Hoover, in “Mondragón’s Answer to Utopia’s Problems,” profits can accrue to shares based on limited capital loans (Hoover 1992). In Emilia-Romagna, John Restakis found that the price of membership in a machinery labor cooperative was $300,000 with interest (but not profits) accruing only upon retirement (2010: 68). According to Battilani and Schröter, Italian law was modified to allow more voting rights for capital contributions (2013: 3). Differences aside, the key characteristic of the cooperative is that the property of individuals is not pooled together with that of the group. Among the many types of cooperatives in Ravenna, the collective is the basic form of labor cooperative chosen by the laboring class. Construction, dock, and agricultural workers are all organized this way. Although there are variations (members of the construction cooperatives, for example, begin as apprentices, and entry is decided by votes and need for labor), the Ravenna collectives and cooperatives in all their forms provide a model of exceptional interest in comparison with the short-lived historical utopian experiments of Fourier, Cabot, Saint-Simon, Owen, and others. One critique of the noble efforts by these utopian planners says that they all failed because they attempted to create an artificially idealistic Gemeinschaft community and collapsed because they lacked a sense of reality (Madison 1946: 93). While the importance of communal and cooperative experiments to social science and the humanities far outweighs their historical numbers, they are largely ignored in the scholarly literature (Whyte 1982: 1–13). Friedrich Engels was interested in communes because he thought that they proved communism could work. But the more prevalent view adapted from Social Darwinism is that the market selects the best, most profitable, and most natural economic organizations and eliminates those that are not viable. Historian Brett Fairbairn says that the prevalence of the “doctrine of competitive individualism” among researchers is not surprising given the Malthusian inspiration for both economics and ecology (1994: 1214). Economist Virginie Pérotin questions “preconceived ideas that businesses run by their employ-

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ees cannot work” and points to “a substantial body of literature developed from the late 1970s” which shows that “several forms of employee participation that are practiced in workers’ cooperatives had positive effects on productivity” (2012: 195, 199). FREE RIDERS, PLANNERS, AND PLAYERS Mancur Olson’s 1965 classic The Logic of Collective Action holds that people in large groups are not motivated by the reward system in collectives because “free riders” can obtain a share of benefits without contributing an equal share of the work (1965: 15–16, 21). Out of rational self-interest, the tendency is for everyone to take advantage of others’ contributions and to shirk individual responsibility. Although empirically unproven (Udéhn 1993: 239–261), the free-rider problem provides a rationalization for modern-day Western cultural beliefs: First, without the pressure of a small face-to-face community, nobody is properly motivated to work unless he has the carrot of the daily reward hung out in front of his nose. Second, the individualistic pursuit of wealth and power is the basic natural drive, the natural stimulus of every human action, and the necessary condition even of progress and cultural development. It flows very naturally then that any “collective” effort that “shares the wealth” in any way, or does not reward and punish people individually, goes against the grain of human nature and is doomed to failure. In a 1978 review of Erasmus’s In Search of the Common Good, philosopher Beryl Lang describes Erasmus’s view of human nature as “self-seeking” and finds fault with his conclusion that “no other society on the face of the earth has ever come closer to ‘Utopia’ than the one—despite its many faults—in which we are privileged to live” (Erasmus, cited in Lang 1978: 57). A conclusion extolling the advantages of one’s own culture, according to Lang, carries a heavy burden that Erasmus failed to meet (ibid.). This is the last thing an anthropologist would want said about his or her analysis. In fairness, Erasmus did not say, as others have, that we have a “selfish gene” (Dawkins 1990) or that people will only work for individual private benefit. There are numerous examples in his book showing the effectiveness of social incentives mainly in pre-industrial or small intentional societies with high social visibility. In these situations people can actually work harder with others than they would by themselves to provision the collective good when it is to their self-advantage. This is an example of the behaviorist economic model of human nature in which people respond to incentives as individuals and not as groups. It is the reason Erasmus regarded production cooperatives (collectives) as more problematic (although not impossible) than those involving only consumption. Early Christian communes, based

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on the famous passage from the Apostles that “all that believed were together, and had all things in common; and sold their possessions and goods, and parted them to all men, as every man had need” (Acts 2:44–45 KJV), were primarily urban with a focus on collective consumption. They did not involve production until monasteries moved to the countryside where inequalities developed and some monks “even took mistresses and had personal servants” (Erasmus 1984: 74, 42, 120–23). Erasmus made a point of limiting his analysis of historic nineteenth-century communes to those that managed to survive for more than a quarter of a century, yet he noted their tendency either to dissolve, to transform into joint stock companies, or to split off into new groups. The privatization trend stops with the split and then restarts with establishment of a new colony (as with the monasteries and the Hutterites). Erasmus’s coverage of agricultural production cooperatives indicated the possibility of success for those spontaneously originating in a social movement with a high level of social predictability, but he saw a similar direction toward privatization because the lack of individual incentives would inevitably lead to a free-rider problem (ibid.: 327). Other reasons utopian societies might fail or become privatized besides the free-rider problem are not seriously considered. Rosabeth Moss Kanter, for example, suggests that a study should be done of shirkers in large bureaucracies. She offers other reasons such as deterioration of ideals, changing environments to which they cannot adapt, erosion of membership, growth of skepticism about the possibility of fulfilling the ideals, and the fact that “the kinds of organization that are functional for production and business operations may often conflict with the commitment mechanisms that serve to maintain community feeling” (1972: 220, 150). Difficulties in capitalization and operating under a hostile political climate are other issues that face intentional communities of all kinds. Erasmus’s emphasis on the free-rider problem is based on his adoption of Dutch historian Johan Huizinga’s notion of Homo ludens, or “man the play animal,” as a model for human motivation. “Homo ludens,” he says, “will always need selective incentives to become involved in a game, whatever it may be. So the next question is whether these incentives can be made less materialistic than they are today.” Nonmaterial or social incentives can be effective motivators in groups where the human animal is involved as a participating player, but not when manipulated from above as a puppet player by planners or social engineers (Erasmus 1984: 351, 115). It is the comprehensive planning from above, and the behaviorist operant conditioning of the people below, that leads to despotism. Erasmus borrowed libertarian philosopher Robert Nozick’s concept of “invisible-hand” and “hidden-hand” to explain how “man the play animal” is

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an active participant player in an invisible-hand game but becomes merely a passive puppet when manipulated from above. He did not wholeheartedly ascribe to the idea that there is no manipulation in an invisible-hand game where “freedom” only means the ability to quit. But he was so impressed with the positive impact of individual incentives in stimulating economic growth in Mexico in the 1950s, in stark contrast to the utter failure of bureaucratic top-down government planning, that he was led to assert that it was consumers, and not entrepreneurs, who were the engine of economic development: As ordinary people throughout Europe during the Middle Ages sought and obtained more and more of the material things that made life comfortable—“consumer choice” in the book—they created the market that made industrialization possible. Thus the market economy was truly a democratic development. We need only to separate it from capitalism—all evils such as exploitation and monopoly—to finally purify it. (Erasmus 1984: 230, 240, vi)

While none of the fictional and real-world utopian experiments described by Erasmus propose a democratic market-based solution, they all recognize the evils of capitalism and represent what Charles Nordhoff called a “mutiny against society.” Written in 300 bc, Plato’s Republic describes how “the rich and their children serve society in no useful way, becoming merely consumers of goods . . . [and how they live] in effeminate indolence with no higher motive than their own immediate pleasure.” In Thomas More’s Utopia, written over eighteen hundred years later (in 1516), the rich “pay as little as possible for the labor of the poor people they oppress, and they manipulate the government and its laws to safeguard for themselves all that they have unjustly acquired.” And, writing about Edward Bellamy’s 1888 Looking Backward, Erasmus described “the famous metaphor of the coach driven by hunger and pulled by the masses” (Nordhoff, Plato, More, and Bellamy cited in Erasmus 1984: 136, 200–201). In describing five fictional utopias all designed by the authors to eliminate despotism and corruption (Plato’s Republic, Thomas More’s Utopia, Cabet’s Icaria, Bellamy’s Looking Backward, and Skinner’s Walden Two), Erasmus concludes that they “would all be despotism if put into practice” (1984: 198). Author Chris Jennings offers an even harsher critique: “Anyone nuts enough to try building heaven on earth is bound for a hell of his own making,” but he also argues that there is a “deficit of imagination” in our era and that, “uncoupled from utopian ends, even the most incisive social critique falls short” (2016: 18, 383–84). Erasmus was not worried about the concerns of the writers of utopian fiction. Along with the “eco-doomsters” of the 1980s, they were too pessimistic for him because they lacked faith in human creativity and the mar-

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ket. Erasmus was optimistic about the future of Homo sapiens but skeptical about its ability to achieve economic democracy through manipulation of the money supply and taxation, because it is another utopian idea that relies on the “common sense of the people” (1984: 360). He favored George Land’s “pro-growth” observation in Grow or Die that failure to grow is a recipe for species extinction instead of the other way around (Land 1973). Because he agreed with economist Peter Drucker that the whole purpose of business is to “supply the wants and needs of the consumer,” Erasmus believed the task of purifying the market of its capitalist evils is a burden that “we” the “ordinary people” must assume through “consumer choice.” But if he is right that Martin Buber’s decentralized “community of communities” would reflect only the moral assessments of planning specialists, the perpetual evils of capitalism are bound to persist because “ordinary people” can never become “participant” players: “Utopia,” or “Good Place,” as Thomas More cleverly implied, exists in “No Place” (Erasmus 1984: 293, 41–42, 35). Erasmus ridiculed the “anti-progressive, pro-egalitarian, anti-materialistic” young college-educated utopians who think people “have more material wants than are good for them or the environment” and believe that “the innocent everywhere are being corrupted by the hidden-hand, conspiratorial machinations of Wall Street and Madison Avenue,” but he then went on to say, Actually, this is the kind of controversial utopianism that stimulates increasing information exchange. It is healthy utopianism as long as we do not get administrators and elected officials who decide to impose it upon us. As a point of view to be argued and sold to as many as can be converted, it is stimulating and welcome. After all, some society, somewhere, someday, must surely reach a saturation point in the consumption of trivia. But it must be a saturation point arrived at by the spontaneous order and the give and take of debate and consumer choice, not by administrative decree. (Erasmus 1984: 354–55)

The international “Slow Food” movement, discussed in the conclusion, comes to mind here: it is an example of a consumer-driven movement raising awareness about the unhealthy, environmentally destructive, and unfair labor practices of capitalistic agribusiness. Ravenna’s collectives offer a model for a realistic potential alternative. They demonstrate how socialist incentives and worker management in a decentralized regional economy can compete within the capitalist market. Because they originated spontaneously as a social movement, not only do they meet the conditions of social predictability that Erasmus found crucially important, they also meet Rosabeth Moss Kanter’s commitment criteria of “sacrifice and investment” (1972: 188). The same could also be said for Mondragón, founded in 1956 in the Basque region of Spain. Although sociologists William Foote Whyte and Kathleen

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King Whyte’s Making Mondragon: The Growth and Dynamics of the Worker Cooperative Complex was not published until 1988, it is surprising that there was no mention of Mondragón (in either the 1977 or 1984 editions) in all 361 pages of Erasmus’s worldwide search for examples, especially since Erasmus was fluent in Spanish. The Mondragón labor cooperatives are the closest in terms of type of organization to those in Ravenna, but the major difference, which was the reason Sharryn Kasmir titled her book The Myth of Mondragón, is the rejection of the type of class-based political and union social movements upon which the Ravenna collectives were based. The cooperatives of Mondragón were founded “as an entrepreneurial alternative to working class activism and socialism” (Kasmir 1996: 195). In Erasmus’s careful analysis of the conditions for success of communalism, he did allow for the possibility that modern-day utopian experiments could succeed. They might be successful if, as Charles Nordhoff concluded, they could be “of one mind upon some question which to them shall appear as important as to take the place of religion” (Erasmus 1984: 136). Were it not for the pro-growth versus limits-to-growth issue, Erasmus may very well have aligned himself with anarchist Josiah Warren, who wrote critically of both capitalism and communalism but continued to hope for success of the latter (Brown 2002: 155–56). Erasmus knew about the existence of the Ravenna collectives, recognized their uniqueness, and sent me to study them. If he knew more about them, I believe he would have celebrated their success as a voluntary, “participant-player”-driven, nongovernmental, democratic, bottom-up response to limited jobs in the area—and perhaps even as a model applicable to future problems if the limits-to-growth advocates turned out to be right. ECONOMICS DOES NOT HAVE TO BE A “DISMAL SCIENCE” Harvard economist Stephen A. Marglin, in The Dismal Science: How Thinking Like an Economist Undermines Community (2008), questions the assumption of the self-interested individual upon which the field of economics is based. He says it is a reflection of Western culture and history and that Western economists see the world in a way that “makes community invisible, ignoring “mutual dependence.” Although it has been said, by no less than socialist economist Robert Heilbroner, that “the contest between capitalism and socialism is over: capitalism has won. . . . Capitalism organizes the material affairs of humankind more satisfactorily than socialism” (1989: 98), this does not mean that socialism somehow goes against “human nature.” In Marglin’s 1974 article “What Do Bosses Do?,” which led to him becoming one of the youngest professors ever to be granted tenure at Harvard, he contends that

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“the capitalist organization of work came into existence not because of superior efficiency but in consequence of the rent-seeking [unfair advantage] activities of the capitalist” (2008: 154). The startling thing about behaviorist, non-cooperative “conclusions” regarding the individualistic nature of human behavior is that they seem to ignore or belie most of the actual experience of the human species on this planet. A case can be made that within family, band, clan, and tribe, either by cultural design or necessity, man, woman, and child have cooperated in a nearly total sense for most of human and semi-human existence. This total cooperation was apparently based on shared value systems and on the concept that private property, as we perceive it, did not exist. The land, the bounty of hunt and collection were shared equally by all as a birthright. And the development of the capitalist “game” of competitive consumption, which Erasmus says engaged the masses and led to economic development, is separate from the game of acquiring productive property (capital). That is a game played only by a small elite (Erasmus 1984: 79). In Mondragón, Sharryn Kasmir found that “property ownership is not important to members.” She also “found a similar situation among women workers studied in Fall River, Massachusetts” (1996: 197). To blame human nature for the supposed failure of worker management—our inability to provision the collective good, protect the environment, or achieve economic justice—is the equivalent of “taking the modern American bourgeois and placing him into a mythical ‘beginning of history’” (Blunden 2003: 12). Instead of this, we have to realize that all economies are “culturally embedded” (Granovetter 1985: 482). According to Stephen Gudeman, the very idea of Homo economicus (Robinson Crusoe or “Mr. Rational Chooser”) is a cultural myth that came into being to mitigate uncertainty in trade relationships. Fundamental human sentiments of “love, desire, and human sociality do not matter for they are not required in this explanation of behavior and would disrupt its predictability.” He concludes that this is nothing more than a “modernist assumption” that “asserts the presence of a timeless human core while denying its local fabrication by humans” (2006: 21–22). Gudeman is not alone. The universality of competitive rivalry is also unsupported by game theorists (Ross 2014); and the field of institutional economics now recognizes that actors are rational not only when they pursue personal self-interest but also “when they promote the interests of kin, kith, group, and firm” (Blim 2000: 29). According to John Bodley, “All people are driven by a human nature that seeks domestic security and the future welfare of one’s children,” but he clarifies this by adding that the driving force behind global environmental change is the natural human desire to improve the material security of their households under cultural conditions of eco-

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nomic scarcity produced by inequality and competitive striving. The important point is that economic scarcity and environmental problems are produced culturally by social inequality, they are not natural conditions. (2002: 2, 4)

Erasmus’s rationale for unapologetically celebrating the presence of individual competitive striving was what it accomplished in the elevation of living standards in many parts of the world. To him, the universal human incentive that drives people to work harder, instead of looking for a “free ride,” is obtaining goods for private consumption. Yet he is no apologist for capitalism. He is aware of the argument that “all the good things of our age have been bequeathed to us by the peoples of the past” and that “this social fund” should be “divided equally among the heirs”; however, he still seems to think that all did not contribute equally to this fund and that hard-working individuals, only a “tiny, gifted few,” bequeathed most of it (Erasmus 1984: 338). This may sound similar to Ayn Rand’s “makers versus takers” notion that has resurfaced in recent political debates (1957), but it is actually more of a “nature of man” idea nowhere near as extreme as that of Yoshihiro Francis Fukuyama’s “last man,” who essentially “ceased to be human” without unequal recognition (1992: xxii). Erasmus’s “man the play animal” simply will not work hard enough to compete with private enterprises without selective incentives. But the Mondragón labor cooperatives in Spain, for example, are competitive with private enterprises. They attract visitors from all over the world (and even major US companies) who are looking for solutions to worker participation in management and ownership, job creation, and economic development. The Mondragón system (with eighty-five thousand members) is larger than, but nowhere near as old as, those in Ravenna. Italy as a whole has twenty-five thousand workers’ collectives (called “cooperatives” in Italy). Although there are few English-language studies of Italian labor cooperatives, they support what Mark Lutz has to say about the Mondragón system: What is really crucially important is the simple conclusion that we now have a living and prosperous example of an alternative to the capitalist absentee-owned corporation. Economic democracy can indeed be made to work on a rather massive scale, and no capitalist corporation seems capable of really threatening its success in the marketplace. This is the lesson from Mondragón. At the same time, it must be remembered that this new structure of an enterprise is not a panacea for the solution of all economic problems. As long as we have an international and global economy with low wage producers in China and elsewhere, it is doubtful that even the best-organized and most efficient co-op can remain competitive in the long run. (1997: 1404)

Elinor Ostrom, the first woman to receive a Nobel Prize for economics in 2009, put a nail in the coffin of the free-rider meme with the simple ob-

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servation that it “contradicts observations of everyday life. After all, many people vote, do not cheat on their taxes, and contribute effort to voluntary associations” (Ostrom 2000: 137–58). Ostrom acknowledges that people are tempted to avoid provisioning the public good, but based on her extensive studies of provisioning of police services and management of water supplies, fisheries, forestry, and development programs, she is convinced that group monitoring and sanctioning are effective and that “a society of free and responsible individuals . . . [who are] able to form voluntary associations will solve the social dilemmas they confront through various means of selfgovernance” (Ostrom, cited in Boettke 2009). THE IDEA OF THE COMMONS Not only are Ostrom’s findings helpful in trying to explain the success of economic cooperation in a Western capitalist country, the extent to which her findings threaten deeply ingrained ideas in our own culture illuminates and underscores the significance of the theoretical issues raised herein. For example, Walter E. Block of Loyola University is not pleased, to put it mildly, that Ostrom won a Nobel Prize in economics. He says that Ostrom’s Governing the Commons: The Evolution of Institutions for Collective Action is “an evil book . . . because it contains a nasty, vicious attack on private property rights, the lynchpin of a civilized order.” He adds that “anything that weakens private property rights promotes barbarism.” Block maintains that there should be no difference between large private conglomerates and democratic labor-based groups voluntarily monitoring common resources because both are “partnerships” that exert control over resources and do not allow access to outsiders. His ultimate insult is that if Ostrom had written about partnerships, she would have been just a “middling sociologist” (Block 2011: 1, 3, 8). Even Erasmus doesn’t approve, in theory, of the inheritance of productive resources such as land. This is because ownership of productive resources is not necessary to the competitive game of increasing personal property for consumption. He says, “I am inclined to agree with John Stuart Mill and H.G. Wells that ‘. . . non-moveable’ wealth as land and natural resources should be owned by all the members of society and should be exploited for the benefit of all by those best qualified to do so” (1984: 356). The great Henry George (1839–97), who was a contemporary of (and almost as popular as) Mark Twain, came to the same conclusion about the inheritance of productive property for reasons based on history and morality. George is known for the idea that everyone should own the products of their labor, but that everything found in nature, most importantly land, belongs equally to all of humanity. The land theory of value he advanced so

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eloquently is that “the ownership of land is the great fundamental fact which ultimately determines the social, political, and consequently the intellectual and moral conditions of a people.” “Turning back,” he said, to “wherever there is light to guide us,” we see everywhere that “all peoples have recognized the common ownership in land, and that private property in land is an usurpation, a creation of force and fraud.” As an example, The white settlers of New Zealand found themselves unable to get from the Maoris what the latter considered a complete title to land, because, although a whole tribe might have consented to a sale, they would still claim with every new child born among them an additional payment on the ground that they had parted with only their own rights, and could not sell those of the unborn. (George 1926: bk. 7, ch. 2, n. 47)

George could very easily have found inspiration for his beliefs in the British Magna Carta, which led to the limiting of the powers of kings and included both “The Great Charter” and a “Charter of the Forest.” According to Noam Chomsky, early common-law scholar Sir William Blackstone found it difficult to produce the first edition because it had been “gnawn by rats.” Chomsky cites Peter Linebaugh’s The Magna Carta Manifesto: Liberty and Commons for All, which describes the current gnawing away of restraints against tyranny; Chomsky focuses on the companion “Charter of the Forest,” which demanded protection of the commons from external power. The commons were the source of sustenance for the general population: their fuel, their food, and their construction materials, whatever was essential for life. The forest was no primitive wilderness. It had been carefully developed over generations, maintained in common, its riches available to all, and preserved for future generations—practices found today primarily in traditional societies that are under threat throughout the world. (Linebaugh, cited in Chomsky 2012)

The Charter of the Forest imposed limits to privatization. The Robin Hood myths capture the essence of its concerns (and it is not too surprising that the popular TV series of the 1950s, The Adventures of Robin Hood, was written anonymously by Hollywood screenwriters blacklisted for leftist convictions). By the seventeenth century, however, this charter had fallen victim to the rise of the commodity economy and capitalist practice and morality (Chomsky 2012). By 1792, James Madison had enshrined into the US Constitution the idea that “[g]overnment is instituted to protect property of every sort. . .” (1792: vol. 1, ch. 16). Anthropological literature abounds with descriptions of land tenure based on use (Herskovits 1952). It is well known that in Africa and North America the indigenous inhabitants unwittingly relinquished title to white

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men who arrived with cultural concepts of property incomprehensible to native value systems. Shawnee chief Tecumseh said, “No tribe has the right to sell, even to each other, much less to strangers. . . . Sell a country! Why not sell the air, the great sea, as well as the earth? Didn’t the Great Spirit make them all for the use of his children?” (Tecumseh n.d.). Marc Bloch recognizes that, even in Europe, there were “strict laws forbidding men to enclose their patrimony.” He says that “prohibition of enclosure, communal grazing on the stubble and compulsory crop rotation were all so strongly felt to be ‘laws’ that when the great agricultural transformations of the late eighteenth century made their suppression unavoidable, it took an entirely new code to replace them.” Bloch explains the transition from communal to individual use of the land as a result of technological innovations in agricultural production, but he still feels (while offering no proof or specifics) that the real explanation for it lies in a “thousand and one subtleties of human behavior” (1966: 44, 55). Unenclosed pastures, including “New Forest” near London, still exist and are managed cooperatively. The truth is that the radical idea of collective ownership of land in modern market-mentality economies is neither impractical nor implausible. French mathematical economist Léon Walras studied cooperatives as a business form in 1895. He favored nationalization of land and declared that “either society destroys pauperism or pauperism will destroy society” (Battilani and Schröter 2012: 85). Even today, in Southern Italy, land was recently confiscated by the government from the Mafia and given to agricultural collectives to provide jobs in a poverty-stricken area and to establish a brand name for agricultural products that will underscore an anti-crime message (Rakopoulos 2017). The modern cooperative movement, which “began primarily as a response to industrial capitalism . . . to provide greater security and equity to those whose lives were being shaped and reshaped by powerful economic changes,” was not just another utopian pipe dream (Battilani and Schröter 2012: 2, 5). Workers’ collectives were formed in France in 1834, and Germany’s cooperative movement “was enormous—the largest social movement in the history of Germany, at least before the 1920s” (Fairbairn 1994: 1215). Even among Anglo-Americans in the United States, there is a tradition of cooperation that dates back to the Pilgrims, who held property in common for the short term in order to realize a profit sooner (Zernike 2010). Jessica Gordon Nembhard’s Collective Courage: A History of African American Cooperative Economic Thought and Practice concludes that African Americans and other low-income people have obtained significant benefits from cooperative ownership and social entrepreneurship (2014). As will be seen, the Ravenna collectives managed to take back swamps and other land that had been illegitimately removed from the commons. Because the population of

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workers was so large and the need so great, working together was the only way this could be done. In the following chapter, readers will be introduced to the ancient Byzantine city of Ravenna and the oldest voluntary collective farms (agricultural production cooperatives) in the world. Whoever is expecting to find an example of utopia may be disappointed. As in the case of communes described by Rosabeth Moss Kanter, “any assessment of such communities . . . depends on what the observer chooses to observe—the ‘failures’ or the ‘successes.’” The skeptics who find “perfection” stifling will not have that to worry about. According to Kanter, “the ‘perfection’ of utopia means an end to change and struggle. Once utopia is attained, one has nothing more for which to strive” (1972: 217).

CH A PTER

2 R AV E N N A—T H E N A N D NOW

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬ THE REGION Like a green sash near the top of the brown Italian boot, the province of Ravenna is situated along the northeast Adriatic coast, 250 kilometers (155 miles) south of the ancient city of Venice. Unlike Venice, which appears to be sinking into the Adriatic Sea, Ravenna sits astride the only large green plain in Italy and appears to be emerging from that same sea. The land around Ravenna has been gradually transformed, from lagoons to dry land, by the fortuitous actions of silt-depositing rivers and the swarming land reclamation efforts of the many thousands of farmworkers-to-be, the braccianti. Ravenna is sheltered from cold winds by the Alps to the north and the Italian spine, the Apennine Mountains, on the west. A thin coastal strip of pine forests along the Adriatic holds back the sea climate sufficiently to make Ravenna a prime center for prosperous vineyards and orchards. This protected alluvial plain possesses the usual rich delta-type soil and mild climate known the world over for spawning dense populations and intensive agriculture. Although the summers tend to be dry, a substantial yearly rainfall sustains a wide variety of crops. The three zones formed by the elevation of the land as it rises from the Po River Delta near the sea are the low plain (the bassa pianura or larga), the relatively higher part of the plain (the appoderata), and the hills (the collina) lying crescent-shaped around the plain.

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Instead of draining directly into the Adriatic Sea, seasonal rampages of the Po, Lamone, and six other rivers filled the Po basin with marshland. Once it was reclaimed for agricultural use, the treeless low plain of the larga became suited for the development of large-scale capital-intensive agriculture based on annual crops of grain, sugar beets, forage, and corn. The higher plain, the appoderata, has for centuries been a natural setting for family-sized labor-intensive farms with diversified perennial crops, including fruit trees and vineyards. On even higher ground, the collina transitions to the distant mountains (map 0.2). Except for artisan enterprises (Faenza is known for its beautiful ceramics), this hilly zone has been depopulated due to deforestation and erosion. This alluvial plain, in a valley of rivers between the Alps and Apennines, developed a unique political and economic character. Emilia-Romagna is one of Italy’s nine major political entities, which are known as regions (regioni), equivalent to US states. The regions are structurally divided into provinces (provincie) or counties, municipalities (comuni) or cities, and townships (paesi) or small towns. The special flavor of the Emilia-Romagna region comes from the Romagna ingredient. Romagnols are called the “Sicilians of the North,” which gives them a hot-blooded but generous reputation. Tradition has it that, in traveling between Florence and Ravenna, the traveler along the way is first offered water, then wine, and then, when for the first time the hospitality of a meal at a farmhouse is offered, he will know he is in Romagna. MY ARRIVAL IN RAVENNA In their own dialect, the dominant passion of people from Ravenna and neighboring provinces was said (in 1972) to be that of puletica (politics). In city and countryside alike the political climate was always intense, as if an important election were imminent. Many American visitors in those days remember the city of Ravenna more for the ubiquitous red hammer-andsickle posters than for the Byzantine mosaics for which Ravenna is famed. They were a part of my own “first impression” of Ravenna. I arrived knowing little of the city, the countryside, or even the collectives, and later had to laugh at my misconceptions. The word “comune” was plastered everywhere, on bicycle racks, trashcans, fences, etc. Remembering a certain campaign at the University of California at Santa Barbara in the 1960s to “liberate” all bicycles, I wondered if the bicycles were put there for all to use. I luckily did not attempt to borrow one of these dilapidated but highly prized possessions. I soon learned that comune the word meant the municipality of Ravenna. When I returned in 2010, I believe they still had

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the same bicycles. I could borrow one, but everyone warns not to leave them unlocked. According to the telephone directory, every other business in Ravenna seemed to be a cooperative of some sort or other. There were three main provincial associations of cooperatives, which in 1972 were closely associated with Socialist/Communist, Republican, and Democratic Christian political parties and their separate union organizations. I had no idea where to begin. Looking back now at pictures of myself at age twenty-four and remembering how immature I was in comparison with the students in my classes now (who have jobs and expenses like cars, iPhones, utility bills, mortgages, and even children), I see that I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. My mentor, Charles Erasmus, wisely sent me to Ravenna where I would probably be safe and not get into too much trouble. I was lucky he did not decide to drop me by helicopter into the Amazon. My National Science Foundation research grant, if I recall, was only $3,000 for the two-year project. In those days it was not as easy as it is today to pick up the phone, call home, and get someone to send money. My parents had no extra money. I made it through college and graduate school through scholarships, national defense loans to future teachers, and a teaching assistantship. On one of the rare occasions that I called home from Italy, my father told me that President Nixon had resigned. I was incredulous. Students, today, are much more informed about current events thanks to the internet and programs like The Daily Show. You would think that someone in Ravenna would have told me that the president of the United States had resigned, but no one did. They did not think the United States was the center of the universe and did not care all that much about US politics, except for being angry because of the Vietnam War. No one asked me how I felt about the war. If they had, I would have told them that my high school boyfriend was killed in that war and that many Americans vehemently opposed it. Without anyone telling me, I learned that a collective farm in the town of Alfonsine raised money to help fund a hospital in North Vietnam. My experiences of culture shock mostly had to do with things like telephone booths having no lights and using tokens instead of coins. There were no laundromats, so I had to wash my blue jeans by hand. I rented a room in Ravenna in the grand old apartment of an elderly widow who had not yet renovated it. Her husband was killed in World War II, and she had never remarried. The water heater in the bathroom used twigs of wood, which I went out to gather (in the city) so I could take a bath and wash my long hair. The tub of tepid water that resulted from that time-consuming effort was not worth it, so after that I just filled up the tub with cold water in the winter and got in to wash my hair. Keep in mind that I was from California and had

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never owned a pair of shoes that weren’t sandals. It took at least twenty-five years after returning home for me to take hot showers for granted. You couldn’t get Tab (then popular in the United States) or any other diet soft drink. You had to go to a doctor to get a prescription for saccharin because it was only for diabetics. You could not sit down in the bar to have a cup of espresso; you had to stand unless you paid extra to sit outside. Everyone put three teaspoons of sugar in each tiny cup. I could never get used to that, so I started to drink it black and came to like it that way. Italians seemed to have no concept of standing in line like the British, who have even more extreme queue behavior than Americans do. Italians formed a wedge at the post office, bank, or anywhere there was a window. I complained to a friend about the way men stared at me, oblivious as I was to the peculiarity of my long blond hair and miniskirts. As a trained anthropologist, I should not have been surprised at her unsympathetic response: “Well . . . I am an Italian, and people are interesting . . . when I go to England I feel like someone could die in the street and no one would notice.” I am ashamed to say that I jumped to the wrong conclusion that chivalry was dead in Italy because no one would help me with my bags as I got on and off trains. My friend told me to try asking. She said that men want to help but they don’t want to make you afraid they are going to steal your bags. When I did ask, I found that not only did I get help with the bags, I was given the royal treatment with extra help finding a seat, settling in, and gifts of food and drink to take along. You cannot refuse food in Italy—it is some sort of cultural rule. If you say you have “just eaten,” then you will at least have to eat “two strands” of spaghetti just to try it out, but that ends up being a full plate so you might as well not refuse in the first place. If you are asked if you want to take a nap after eating, as I was after lunch at the Lombardinis, go ahead. It is a wonderful custom and such a nice thing to offer to guests (figure 2.1). I made progress adjusting to the culture, but I still couldn’t get used to always being asked if my teeth were fake or “how in the world” it was that I had a car with a Milan license plate. It never occurred to me to think about how fortunate I was in comparison with one of my fellow PhD candidates who actually did go to the Amazon. Although I had been a diligent student of anthropology for six years, nothing had prepared me for becoming an anthropologist myself. So, like the California girl I was, I headed to the beach. It was there that I got a lucky break when I heard some children in the water next to me talking in English. Not only was it English, I detected that it was Southern California English! The children, whose names were Jimmy and Don, introduced me to their father, Bob Arevalos, who had been stationed at a NATO base in Italy. He met their Italian mother when he was at the beach for some rest and relaxation. He spoke to the children in nothing but En-

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FIGURE 2.1. The Lombardinis with new house attached to old one still used for cooking, 1972 Photo by the author

glish, and she spoke to them only in Italian, so they were perfectly bilingual, surfer accent and all. It turned out that his parents lived on the same street as mine in Laguna Beach, California. Bob’s wife, Lisetta, was from a prominent old ship-owning merchant family in Ravenna, whose ships were sunk by the fascists because they thought her father was a partisan. She said she was afraid the CIA had tapped their phone because the daughter of Communist Party secretary Enrico Berlinguer was a regular guest who came over to play cards. Their home was a palazzo (palace) in the city center that took up half a block. Parts of the palace were rented to businesses below, and there were residences above. They could drive their cars right into the lower courtyard level through a large wooden door. The wood floors in the living quarters upstairs had been reconstructed by skilled artisans in an intricate herringbone pattern, and the ceilings were painted with frescos. Their new baby, Matteo, would grow up to become a concert pianist who would transform the place into a bed and breakfast. The highlight of my 2012 visit was listening to him play Chopin for his guests. Lisetta changed everything for me: helping to make calls, introducing me to the appropriate people, setting up appointments, allowing me to take hot baths, giving me my first-ever winter coat, and even providing regular meals.

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When I started to volunteer on the farms, I realized what a weakling I was, despite having been a member of the swim team. Picking peaches is not so bad except that the peach fuzz is like Fiberglas insulation that does not wash off, and thinning out sugar beets requires moving along in a constant crouch like a spider or on hands and knees. But keeping up with strong women picking strawberries in a “tunnel” greenhouse in the summer is another thing altogether. When I got to the end of a row, I thought the woman holding the barrel with a ladle was going to give me water, but it turned out to be vermouth. In retrospect, I don’t know how anthropologists ever succeed in doing fieldwork if people don’t feel sorry for them. Asking where I might buy a sandwich at lunchtime got me laughed at and then invited to the Ballardinis, who took me under their wing in Longastrino. It is still hilarious to them, forty years later. The same thing happened in Carraie with the Bartoletti family. This unintentional anthropological method was not only beneficial to the work but also to survival. By the time I left Italy, which I delayed doing until I was down to my last twenty dollars, I had gained twenty-five pounds and become thoroughly Italianized. I would suffer reverse-culture shock on my return. For example, how could “they” allow our grocery stores to be filled with such an array of diet sodas and other foods that were poisonous? I became a terrible driver on my return, although to this day I will never again drive in Italy because of some trauma I don’t exactly remember. Whenever there was an accident with a death on the road, traffic would be stopped for hours, which gives you a lot of time to think about your own mortality and to imagine the gruesome scene ahead of you. Or, it could have been that taxi driver in Milan who pointed out something on the map I was holding in the back seat while he wove through traffic. When I tried in vain to slow him down by saying that Italians seemed to be bad drivers, I had to agree with his logic: “Oh no, we are the best drivers in the world because if everyone else drove like us they would all be dead.” Or, maybe it was when I bought my Fiat 500 and asked where the seat belts were and was told, “You don’t need seat belts in this car [if you crash, you will die].” Or it could have been a trip on the autostrada (interstate). If you are in a Fiat 500, you need to keep your eyes on your rearview mirror at all times. When you see a dot on the horizon behind you, it is time to get over into the shoulder. A Mercedes or Citroen with the lefthand turn signal on—which means, “I am passing you”—will be barreling down at 150 miles per hour, in no time straddling the line and blowing you off the road unless you are in the shoulder. There were no speed limits on the autostrada, but I found that drivers of small cars exact their revenge in the cities, where (in my youth) it was fun to drive like a crazy person. The “zebra” marks for pedestrians were not to be taken seriously. This is not the case today. People are not crazy drivers; they do not drive 150 miles per

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hour on the interstate, and the newer and larger Fiat 500s are not at such a disadvantage. When I got home, I lost the twenty-five pounds I had gained because I found Americans to be so uncivilized that they do not eat a main meal at lunch and take a nap afterward to properly digest. I could not get anyone to take more than one taste of the homemade nocino liqueur I brought home. (It is a “digestive” made from walnuts harvested on a certain day of the year and soaked in pure alcohol. It burns your eyeballs as you take a sip.) I also lugged home a set of Italian pottery dishes as a reminder of Romagnol hospitality. By the time I left, I felt more like a participant than an observer— with one exception: a real Italian would not take a trip without also bringing along a ham or other food from his or her hometown. Although Italians were wrong to think that we Americans ate everything out of cans, I did learn the value of eating fresh food from them. To this day, I find it disgusting to freeze meat, and I have never tasted a real Italian pizza in the United States. I think it has to do with the wheat in the dough, the fresh tomatoes, and the prosciutto and the cheeses that would not pass USDA inspection. Italians rightfully take umbrage at that. They are the ones with the healthy food, not us. I had no aesthetic sense whatsoever before going to Italy, but I left with what became an expensive clothing and shoe addiction. I also picked up the habit of staring at people. Italians are right: people are interesting! THE PROVINCE OF RAVENNA Leaving the clean, narrow cobblestone streets, the miles of colonnaded sidewalks and delicious cuisine of Bologna on the train that leads to Ravenna, one passes through mile after mile of flat, intensively cultivated agricultural land interrupted by several small cities with artisan and agricultural businesses. Straight Roman country roads crisscross the agricultural landscape, and every centimeter of land is used for some agricultural purpose. Crops are grown in between the rows of tree-supported vines, and the solidly built, rectangular masonry farmhouses with tile roofs and shuttered windows stand out against the gray-blue sky. In 1972, as one moved gradually down in altitude from the appoderata into the lower part of the Ravenna basin, the distance between farmhouses became greater, and the trees were gradually replaced by the vast fields of grass crops that extended throughout the larga. Taking the same trip in 2012, I saw that the point of origin in the city of Bologna has retained its centuries-old character through careful preservation of historic integrity and exclusion of private traffic within the city center. The stark difference that characterized

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the agricultural zones in 1972 has disappeared. Hectares and hectares of fruit orchards and vines supported by businesslike concrete pillars now grow in the larga. Farmhouses are prosperous and new in both zones, with the old ones repurposed for animals and equipment. Small country towns are spaced from ten to thirty kilometers apart on the two-lane roads that extend out in all directions from the city of Ravenna. In 1972 they varied in population from five to nine thousand inhabitants. Today, the population of the province is four hundred thousand, and the largest of the rural towns has almost twelve thousand people. Each town possesses a unique character. While the towns of the larga originated as braccianti settlements that sprang up along the borders of the swamps to protect people from isolation and malaria, the typical country town of both zones today is inhabited mostly by the families of former braccianti in combination with people who own or work in small local stores and businesses or who commute to the city. Some farmers live in the towns and travel out to their various rented or owned plots. The people who live in the surrounding countryside are small family farmers, the few remaining tenant farmers, and part-time absentee residents who own country homes or villas. The three types of rural cultivators who populate the countryside are contadini (owner-operators), mezzadri (tenant farmers), and braccianti (agricultural laborers). The term “farmer” (contadino) is used interchangeably to refer to all three categories. Before entering the heart of the capital city of the province of Ravenna, the signpost “Ravenna” deceives the traveler into thinking that the city is a nondescript center of small modern industries, gas stations, and stores that are the result of the city’s midriff bulge. That bulge has grown in forty years, with many expensive auto dealerships, agro-industrial processing and packaging plants, and a huge COOP Italia supermarket. Ravenna is still a medium-sized industrial and agricultural center of 158,100 inhabitants, a number that has increased by about 30,000 since the 1970s. Urban and coastal areas have grown at the expense of rural areas in the zone of reclamation. Although Ravenna is a small city, it is by no means isolated. Tourists flock to see the ancient Byzantine mosaics and to vacation along the Adriatic shore. To put it all in perspective, whereas one has to travel five and a half hours from my home city of Little Rock, Arkansas, to shop at an IKEA store, there are two IKEAs within a two-hour radius of Ravenna. In Ravenna, traffic passes smoothly through the clean, narrow one-way streets and has been banned from a larger part of city center since 1972. Arches mark the entrances to the ancient island city, but the city has long since sprawled out beyond the walls that once protected it from invasions by hostile armies from the north. Nearing the city’s center, auto traffic becomes sluggish, but hundreds of bicycles weave through with ease. The cobble-

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stoned Piazza del Popolo (People’s Square) is bordered by expensive barcafes selling coffee, ice cream, sandwiches, pastries, and all types of beverages. Centuries-old buildings are carefully preserved on the outside and often gutted and remodeled with luxurious new interiors. Important offices of government and business are within a radius of two city blocks from the piazza. The train station (doing a lively business with student and worker commuters from the country), two libraries, several banks, the post office, and a dozen churches are within easy walking distance. The Socialist/Communist League of Cooperatives, which used to be conspicuously housed in a large old building with a courtyard in the center of town, has relocated a short distance beyond the ancient city wall to an impressively large new facility with solar panels covering the roof. The two other provincial centers of Republican and Catholic cooperatives are still located near the city center. Departing from the city and heading toward the Adriatic Sea, one spots a large industrial center near the port, twenty kilometers outside of the city. State and privately owned industries developed there after a large deposit of methane gas was discovered in 1953. In 1972, huge trucks pulled in and out of the petroleum, plastic, and chemical industries, and foul-smelling smoke and pollutants were discharged into the air and water. In Michelangelo Antonioni’s 1964 film, Red Desert, the industrial landscape outside the city of Ravenna depicts the alienation of the main character and of the striking workers. To the north of the city, the extensive fields of the larga with stacks of hay, tall silos, and large barns were a stark contrast to the small-farm zone in the south. Half of this vast agricultural land in the lowest part of the plain to the north and east of the city—in places like Mezzano, Ravenna, and Cervia—either belonged to collective farms or to public entities rented to collectives. Many times the land was acquired through strikes; since no one would work it, the owners were forced to sell. The entire province, in fact, was divided into union leagues for the purpose of exerting pressure upon private landowners. A worker from Ravenna, for example, could not go to work in the neighboring town of Piangipane (Cry Bread) unless sanctioned by the union, as might occur in the case of a strike. THE REDS, GREENS, AND WHITES Red, green, and white cooperative and union movements correspond to the colors of the Italian flag. The “Reds” are Socialist-Communist, the “Greens” Republican, and the “Whites” Christian Democrat. In 1972, the “Red” collectives seemed to be everywhere. Like “Red” bars, the “Red” collectives

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were affiliated with the Socialist and Communist Parties and labor union, but members from other parties and unions were accepted. “Red” collectives belonged to the large Provincial League of Cooperatives of Ravenna, which was affiliated with the National League of Cooperatives and Friendly Societies (later abbreviated to “Legacoop”), and the National Federation of Cooperatives (“Federcoop”). In 1972, the thirty-three agricultural collectives in Ravenna had 14,305 members (only 8,391 of which were not retired). As of 1980, those thirty-three collectives (called “braccianti cooperatives”) had merged into seven and, as of 2015, had only 458 members (Pasini 2011). The amount of land has decreased slightly to 12,407 hectares, but more is owned rather than rented (table 2.1). Other large labor collectives and cooperatives in the building industry also belong to the “Red” organization. “Green” Republican cooperatives and collectives belonging to the national Associazione Generale delle Cooperative Italiane (General AssociaTABLE 2.1. Mergers and Current Holdings and Membership in Ravenna Braccianti Cooperatives 2011 (n. 7) Hectares 2015 (n. 7), Hectares 1980 (n. 31) Hectares Owned 11,949 (92%), Owned 11,874/ Owned 9,492/ Rented 8,092, Rented 458. Average Size Rented 1,264, Membership 8,154 1,846 (430 ha–4,066 ha) Membership 521 10.5% of province land Alfonsine, Longastrino, Mezzano, S.Alberto, S.Lorenzo, Voltana

Agrisfera

Agrisfera

Bagnacavallo, Faenza, Nuova Agricoltura Faenza

Bagnacavallo and Faenza

Bagnacavallo and Faenza

Campiano, Carraie, Ghibullo, S.Bartolo, S.Stefano, S.Zaccaria

Campiano

Campiano

Cervia, Castiglione de Cervia, Castiglione di Ravenna, Savio

Comprensorio Cervese

Comprensorio Cervese

Fusignano

Fusignano

Fusignano

Conselice, Lavezzola, Massalombarda

Massari

Massari

Classe, Piangipane, Ravenna, Russi, Santerno

Ter.Ra.

Ter.Ra.

Casola Valsenio, Filo di Alfonsine, Riolo Terme Source: Pasini 2011, 2016

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tion of Italian Cooperatives) were affiliated in the 1970s with the Republican labor union to which their members had to belong. Also like the bars, Republican collectives in 1972 were fewer in number: ten collectives with 1,044 hectares and 563 members. The Republican agricultural production cooperatives have since merged with the “Red” braccianti collectives. Through the Unione Provinciale degli Agricoltori (Provincial Union of Agriculturalists), or Confagricoltura for short, the Christian Democrat Party (for a long time the most powerful party in Italy) supported the rare “White” Catholic collectives, of which there were only four in the province in 1972, with 894 hectares and 364 members. Members of these collectives were required to belong to the Catholic labor union. Today, there is only one remaining 400-hectare “White” collective that raises cattle and produces dairy products; however, 25 percent of the farmers in the province, with 40 percent of the land, belong to the “White” service and marketing cooperatives. In the three provinces of Romagna (Ravenna, Cesena, and Forli), the “third degree” regional association of “White” cooperatives in 2014 had 200 cooperatives, 11,458 employees, and 94,935 members. It is strong in rural finance, credit, assistance to farmers, transformation of products, and marketing, but it does not have a significant presence in agricultural production, labor cooperatives, or consumer cooperatives. The national Catholic cooperative movement is financially the strongest of the three national cooperative movements, with rural banks, credit associations, and most of the transformation and marketing plants. The typical collective farm in Ravenna in 1972 was the “Red” collective, and for this reason they became the focus of my study. Each small town seemed to have its own “CAB,” or Cooperativa Agricola Braccianti (Braccianti Agricultural Cooperative). Conspicuous in the Ravenna countryside, these enterprises had an average size of 431 hectares, with 1.6 hectares per member. Even in the 1970s this would not have been enough land to divide into individual parcels big enough to support a family. Although collectives have always aimed at more, the high man-to-land ratio made it impossible for them to provide more than part-time employment for members. Historically, members took turns working on the collective and on private land. The conclusion I arrived at in the 1970s was that they were a successful adaptation to chronic, widespread, and partial unemployment in the area. The Masons and Cement Workers’ Cooperative (CMC) is another “Red” labor cooperative; it began in 1901 in Ravenna as the Società Anonima Cooperativa fra gli Operai, Muratori e Manuali del Comune di Ravenna (The Limited Cooperative Society of Workers, Masons, and Manual Laborers of the Municipality of Ravenna). In 2009, the CMC in Ravenna was listed as the twelfth largest employee-owned firm in Europe (European Federation

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of Employee Share Ownership 2009). As in 1972, all the big construction sites in 2012 still have CMC signs on them. The CMC is the largest construction co-op in Italy. Today it is a highly international company, a general contractor specialized in infrastructures (dams, electricity plants, high-velocity railway lines, water tunnels, etc.) with a €700 million [$765 million] gross and almost 6,000 workers (500 tenured employees), 377 of which are members of the co-op.

In 2015, the three provinces of Ravenna, Cesena, and Forli were associated into a regional organization, now called Legacoop Romagna, a branch of the national “Red” League of Cooperatives. This regional organization consists of 477 cooperatives that employ 27,400 workers, serve 399,000 members, and have a gross income of €55.8 million ($61 million) (Zamagni 2012: 78). Legacoop Romagna provides consulting assistance to its regional members and promotes cooperation in economic, social, political, cultural, union, and institutional sectors. It furthers the development of new cooperatives based on the original ideals and values of the cooperative movement. Cooperatives include those of “users” or consumers of goods or services, those of “work” whose members come together to create better working conditions, and “support” for marketing goods and services contributed by Legacoop cooperatives and small private farms (table 2.2). They include: • Consumer cooperatives to assure fair prices • Labor cooperatives to provide better working conditions, profit sharing, and participation in management • Agricultural cooperatives for production, transformation, and commercialization of products, and support of members • Housing cooperatives • Transport cooperatives • Fishing cooperatives, including transformation and commercialization • Social cooperatives for educational and human needs • Consortia of cooperatives to increase contractual capacity and achieve economies of scale • Cooperative banks and credit associations According to John Earle, the ultimate aim of the National League of Cooperatives was “the socialization of the means of production and exchange.” But after World War II, when the Communists tried to infiltrate the League, “the leadership of the League had little sympathy for the Bolshevik’s methods.” In 1962, the Socialists broke from the Communists and “came out of the wilderness and first supported, then joined, a centre-left government.” They decided to open the League’s doors “to the middle classes, to shopkeepers, artisans, small businessmen and all those willing to associate in defense

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TABLE 2.2. Members of Cooperatives in the Province of Ravenna Legacoop “Red” Cooperatives: Braccianti Production Collectives Small Farmer Cooperatives

1951

1962

1968

1975

2009–12

22,251

22,828

17,169

14,159

16,213

4,897

5,745

4,161

5,756

Agricultural Transformation

2,039

4,507

7,319

450

95

92

139

102

Construction

4,431

2,500

2,539

2,995

3,943

Production and Labor

1,284

325

205

1,419

26,626

36,492

33,245

0

0

105

695

295

25

675

82

13,528

Fishermen

Consumer Retail Transport

37,323 124,940

Service

0

0

28

Social

0

0

0

0

1,411

Credit

0

0

0

0

0

6,500

4,630

2,508

450

0

0

295

909

2,000

9,134

3,861

5,430

8,644

10,000

0

70,595

80,404

74,787

Health Insurance Housing Other (clubs) Total “Red” Cooperatives in Ravenna (46% of Province in 2012) “Red,” “Green,” and “White” Cooperatives in 2012 (87% of Province)

82,337 169,270 303,000

Source: Menzani 2012: 117

against the increasing strength of large corporations.” The League addressed itself to “consumers, dependent and independent workers, people in the world of the arts, farmers, small and medium entrepreneurs such as artisans, retailers and fishermen.” They called upon them “to organize themselves and undertake activities in common . . . [to] combat monopolistic forces and oppose their speculative methods and aims” (Earle 1986: 22, 33–34). Legacoop now collaborates throughout the nation with the Catholic Confagricoltura and the Republican Associazione Generale delle Cooperative Italiane. The three groups, all of which have historical roots in Italy, formed the Alleanza delle Cooperative Italiane (Italian Cooperative Alliance) to promote cooperation. According to interviews by representatives of each of the three groups, “Today there is no politics, only the market”; “We arrived at the same destination taking different streets and we speak with one voice”; and “I don’t want to be irreverent, but even our ‘Red’ or-

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ganization isn’t really ‘Red’ anymore.” In 2015, 87 percent of the population in the province of Ravenna belonged to cooperatives (Menzani 2013: 117). The national Italian cooperative movement, based on data and extrapolations compiled by Stefano and Vera Zamagni (table 2.3) from the three central organizations and the Italian Chamber of Commerce, consists of 71,464 cooperatives with €119 billion in sales, 11.490 million members, and 1.249 million employees (Zamagni and Zamagni 2010: 61). The cooperative movement is the Italian leader in large-scale wholesale and retail trade. Legacoop accounts for more than a third of major retail outlet sales in Italy, and that number is rising. Other areas where cooperatives are strong are in construction, food processing, facility management services, social services, and mutual credit and insurance. Italian law permits cooperatives to hire employees as long as members own 100 percent of the assets and profits are not distributed according to capital contributions (Menzani 2013: 3). THE 1970s Although agriculture in Ravenna in 1972 could be nearly a year-round occupation for young men who specialized as tractor drivers and in other agricultural machinery, the tendency was for young men to leave agriculture for employment in other economic sectors and for the owner-operators, tenant farmers, and agricultural laborers to be older and increasingly female. Some collectives in 1972 had up to 75 percent women members. For all the “Red” collectives combined, the average percentage of women members was 56 percent. Most of the collective farms were located in the larga zone (table 2.4), but they were also in the appoderata (table 2.5), and the collina (table 2.6). TABLE 2.3. Italian Cooperative Movement, 2006 Association

Number of Enterprises

Sales in billions of euros

Members

Direct Employees

Legacoop

15,200

50

7,500,000

414,000

Confcooperative

19,200

57

2,878,000

466,000

AGCI

5,768

6

439,000

70,000

UNCI

7,825

3

558,000

129,000

Unicoop

1,910

0.3

15,000

20,000

Not belonging to the above

21,561

3

100,000

150,000

Total

71,464

119

11,490,000

1,249,000

Source: Zamagni and Zamagni 2010: 61

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TABLE 2.4. Collective Farms in the Large-Farm Larga Zone, Province of Ravenna, 1972 Town

Year Founded

“Color”*

Alfonsine

239

420

1906

Red

Alfonsine

30

30

1950

Green

Campiano

766

326

1912

Red

Campiano

250

50

1954

Green

Carraie

541

297

1910

Red

Cervia

486

514

1904

Red

Classe

131

161

1946

Red

1,075

684

1908

Red

265

165

1946

Red

Conselice Filo

Hectares

Membership

Lavezzola

729

622

1907

Red

Longastrino

402

279

1907

Red

Longastrino

103

35

1962

Green

Marina de Ravenna

239

40

1950

Green

1,211

690

1907

Red

Piangipane

499

223

1907

Red

Piangipane

61

32

1950

Green

Punta Marina

95

40

1950

Green

Ravenna

1,373

597

1888

Red

Ravenna

600

202

1950

White

San Bartolo

127

59

1908

Red

San Lorenzo

358

369

1922

Red

Santerno

230

113

1911

Red

Savio

273

116

1919

Red

Savio

54

59

1962

Green

Mezzano

Sant’Alberto

1,328

474

1912

Red

Sant’Alberto

317

230

1950

Green

San Stefano

429

150

1908

Red

6

14

1959

Red

341

186

1907

Red

12,558

7,177

Villa Rosetta Voltana Total

Note: *Red=Socialist/Communist; Green=Republican; White=Catholic Source: Labor Allocation Office Records

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TABLE 2.5. Collective Farms in the Small-Farm Appoderata Zone, Province of Ravenna, 1972 Town

Year Founded

“Color”*

Bagnacavallo

956

586

1911

Red

Bagnacavallo

45

17

1955

Green

Bagnara

Hectares

Membership

16

11

1945

Red

Castiglione Cervia

388

251

1907

Red

Castiglione Ravenna

299

111

1910

Red

Castiglione Ravenna

69

39

1948

Green

Cotignola

91

70

1946

Red

Fusignano

310

272

1945

Red

Ghibullo

135

92

1912

Red

Massalombarda Russi San Pietro in Trento San Zaccaria Total

45

210

1909

Red

101

83

1911

Red

14

34

1966

Green

397

203

1908

Red

2,866

1,979

Note: *Red=Socialist/Communist; Green=Republican; White=Catholic Source: Labor Allocation Office

TABLE 2.6. Collective Farms in the Hilly Collina Zone, Province of Ravenna, 1972 Town

Hectares

Membership

Year Founded

“Color”*

Faenza

187

 83

1949

Red

Faenza

180

 49

1965

White

Faenza

 70

 74

1965

White

Faenza

 44

 39

1964

White

Riolo Terme

 69

 19

1919

Red

Total

550

264

Note: *Red=Socialist/Communist; Green=Republican; White=Catholic Source: Labor Allocation Office

In 1972, the appoderata zone was (and still is) a highly productive agricultural zone, based primarily on the intensive production of fruit. This required additional braccianti labor for six months out of the year. From November to March, fruit trees were thinned out, and there was little work to be done. In the early spring, the entire countryside burst forth with blossoms and aromas that were the harbingers of the busy season to come. Rem-

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37

iniscent of a Van Gogh painting, long single-file columns of women on motor scooters could be seen in the distance, silhouetted against a rising or setting sun, sputtering along on their way to and from their labors in the fields and orchards. The manual hoeing, weeding, and thinning out of the sugar beets, the thinning out and harvesting of the many varieties of peaches, and the harvesting of grapes, plums, apples, pears, tomatoes, peppers, beans, and strawberries was done mainly by women. As soon as the first fruit was picked, seventeen cooperative refrigeration, processing, and packing plants ran around the clock. Fruit was packed by the braccianti women and sent to other parts of Italy, to the cold countries of the north, and even by airplane all over the world. Grapes were brought by huge truckloads to the nine different cooperative wineries of the province. Working in collective farms with expensive greenhouses or in the transformation cooperatives was more convenient for women whose husbands worked in industry. In Nicaragua, when forced collectivization gave way to free choice, many people preferred to keep the collective form, possibly for some of the same reasons it appealed to women in Ravenna (Ruben and Lerman 2005:32). In interviews filmed by Italian professor Vittorianna Sani Alberoni, there was consensus that the women’s jobs gave them a sense of independence. They said they would not want to stay home, even though they had to do all the housework when they got home while their husbands went out to the bars in the evenings to socialize and play cards (Lucci 2014). Even though the average family with two wage earners made only about $1,000 to $1,500 per year in 1972 ($6,109 to $9,163 in 2015 dollars), the typical braccianti home was owned outright. Unlike the homes of the tenant and owner-operated farms where two grown brothers may live with their elderly parents, wives, and several children, the braccianti household was usually composed of a single husband-and-wife pair, a maximum of two children, and one or two grandparents. Most of the families owned well-built, mortgage-free homes. Instead of the “ticky-tacky” little boxes built throughout the US suburbs, the housing stock in the rural towns surrounding Ravenna was built to last, with thick masonry walls and expensive tile roofs, floors, and even walls. The homes are comfortable, and by 1972 many had been recently renovated, with new kitchens and two tiled bathrooms with on-demand water heaters, a formal dining-living room, storage and workrooms, and three or four upstairs bedrooms with expensive hardwood floors. It was not unusual to find that the family’s home was built almost entirely by the father who scrounged around for materials and did most of the work himself with the help of a construction labor cooperative. Being underemployed in agriculture made it possible for workers to engage in other moneymaking, self-sufficiency, or asset-pro-

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ducing activities. Although small owner-operators worked more, sometimes for a lesser per-hour “wage,” they had less time for nonagricultural work. The closeness of family relationships is something one could not help but notice, especially in the rural areas. This might have something to do with the custom of providing funding, labor, and materials to build a new home for newlyweds. What was the anthropologist from California to think about this? Hiring halls and other things California workers were fighting for in the nationwide Delano grape boycott in the 1960s were won generations ago in Ravenna. Even in middle-class families in California in the 1970s, eighteenyear-olds were not expected to ask their parents for anything. Braccianti families in 1972 led comfortable but frugal lives. When my 1960s generation started our careers, we ridiculed the frugality of our depression-era parents. Our Italian counterparts got the message of the importance of saving from their parents, who lived under fascism and were more directly impacted by World War II. It was not uncommon in 1972 for people to catch the last rays of the sun before turning on electric lights, or even to go to bed when the sun went down. In those days, braccianti rarely took advances on wages, preferring to collect interest on their wages and take them in one lump sum at the end of the year so they could buy expensive things like a set of new furniture. The collectives paid a higher interest than the banks, and braccianti savings helped to finance the operations. To the rear of the houses were the family kitchen gardens and greenhouses, cages of chickens, quail, pheasants, and rabbits, and sheds in which much of the cooking was done (so as to save wear and tear on the shiny new kitchens and keep cooking smells out of the house). Pasta was made daily from scratch with fresh eggs and flour, and workers went home for an elaborate midday meal. Newly homemade wine seemed carbonated and tasted just enough like grape juice to be dangerous. The people were self-sufficient in many of their needs, and those things that they had to buy, such as eggs and chickens if they did not keep them, were purchased from a neighbor who did. Flour, sugar, and coffee were purchased in bulk through the consumer cooperative to which all the women belonged. Like women in the city, women in the country shopped for bread and whatever else was needed nearly every day, and the streets were alive with bicycle traffic and conversation. In the 1970s, the older women dressed in conservative dark colors with scarves covering their heads and rattan shopping bags strapped to their dilapidated bicycles. In answer to a question about why they all wore dark clothes, one informant said, “You know, I have lived here all my life, and I never noticed.” But everyone was aware of the uniqueness of EmiliaRomagna’s cooperative spirit (figure 2.2). Preparing food outside in the summer, women had the opportunity to converse with neighbors and relatives living close by, watch the children

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39

FIGURE 2.2. Valentina Ballardini and the anthropologist’s daughter Juliana, 1980 Photo by the author

as they played, and wait for the braccianti cooperative (collective)/union representative “turn caller,” who came at dusk on bicycle with work assignments for the following day. Parents and grandparents who worked all day in the fields still had plenty of energy left over to play ball with the kids in the street. Darkness came late, and after the women finished their household chores, they would relax for a few minutes in their front yard, eat an enormous peach, and chat with their neighbors. Oversize peaches were not easily packaged for sales, so they were sold locally and eaten. The women did not visit for long. Soon after dark, they were fast asleep. In the winter, there was plenty of time for elaborate needlework, hunting, fishing, and hobbies. Men departed for the company of their friends immediately following supper and spent the evening at the bar of their choice playing the complex Romagnol card game of briscola, with a special deck of illustrated cards indigenous to the zone. They never tired of discussing politics, the affairs of the collective, and, as always among farmers, the weather. Bars pertained to different “colors,” or political parties. More than a place to drink coffee or wine, the bar, or circolo (“circle” or “club”), was the main center of social interaction. Corresponding to the colors of the Italian flag, there was a “Red” club frequented by Socialists and Communists, a “Green” one for Republicans, and a “White” one for the Christian Democrats. Sometimes the club would be privately owned, in which case the “color” of the owner determined the “color” of the bar. In the larga, however, most

40

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of the towns had only “Red” centers, which were cooperatively built by the local braccianti. Men and women contributed labor and materials to build a place where mostly the men could go and socialize. These simple centers were distinguishable by the words Casa Popolare, or “People’s House,” usually written in large letters across the fronts of the buildings. The only other decoration would be a plastic red-and-yellow hammer-and-sickle sign hanging over the front door, indicating that the upstairs might house the local chapter of the Italian Communist Party, the Socialist-Communist labor union (CGIL), and the main office and meeting hall of the local collective. In exchange for use of the building, the people who ran the bar concession would sell coffee and other drinks at a lower price. Ravenna’s rural towns seemed prosperous to the outside visitor in 1972, but older people still remembered and talked about the past when braccianti slept huddled together in grass lean-tos on the edge of swamps. City dwellers in Ravenna shared this sense of solidarity. People often pointed to the north of the city to proudly say, “Do you see all that land out there? It was made by our ancestors with their shovels and wheelbarrows.” In the 1970s, just about everyone, with the exception of writer Francesco Fuschini, seemed to think that the reclamation of the swamps for agricultural use was a good thing. In Un Paese Perdita (A Lost Country), Fuschini would write, “In the ‘Valle del Mezzano’ just reclaimed you can see only watermelon . . . and you can hear the strident echo of bulldozers, which are creating new fields in reclaimed lands. Concerning the original savage environment of Comacchio wetlands, I found nothing except a postcard” (Piastra 1990: 19). FORTY YEARS LATER In 2012, the rural bars/restaurants were filled with large extended families and friends celebrating birthdays, which was not as common in 1972. People now seem to spend less of their time talking to fellow citizens while sitting and arguing about politics in the sidewalk cafes. In 1972, city girls were taught to speak “correct” Italian instead of the colorful, often vulgar, but charmingly expressive Romagnol dialect that is still spoken in the country. The “ancient ones” still speak almost exclusively in dialect, and older people in the city continue to intersperse their conversations with dialect to emphasize a point and as a gesture of friendship, familiarity, and common identity as Romagnols. A Communist blacksmith from Voltana translated Dante’s entire Divine Comedy into dialect (Soldati 1982), a noteworthy example of a rich tradition of literature and opera in the countryside. Dialects throughout Italy, remnants of the period before Italian unification in 1861, can vary slightly between small towns separated by only a few kilometers.

ravenna—then and now

41

People say there is less of a sense of community than there was in the past, but to the outsider used to impersonal cities, the beautiful and wealthy center city of Ravenna seems like an idyllic Italian version of Disneyland’s Main Street America. Beneath the surface, the disturbing reality for young people is that so few will be able to enjoy it. Graduates in all fields are without permanent employment. For every job as a university professor, for example, there are a thousand applicants. At the rate of their typical earnings, young people today would have to save for one hundred years to buy their own homes. They are living with their parents and draining the savings of prior generations. They buy televisions, microwaves, cell phones, scooters, and cars with their wages. I am told that by the next economic downturn there will be nothing left. The birth rate in Italy has fallen as a result (Cadeo 2015). Many changes have occurred since 1972. The categories of tenant farmer and braccianti have almost disappeared, and the number of owner-operators has grown. In the province, 76 percent of the agricultural land is in the hands of family farmers. With the aging of the owner-operators and the stagnation of agricultural prices, children of farmers are selling or renting land, and farms have been increasing in size. Especially in the larga zone, many farmhouses are vacant. People prefer to live in the towns close to the schools and activities (figure 2.3).

FIGURE 2.3. Former tenant farm home (Massari Braccianti Cooperative), 2010 Photo by the author

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Farm work and country life appear to keep people strong, healthy, and happy. In a national quality of life survey, Ravenna ranked number one for business and labor in 2011 (Cadeo et al. 2011) but fell to number 20 out of 110 in 2017 (Biscella et al. 2017). Multigenerational extended families seem to prolong the quality and length of life. It was surprisingly easy to locate people from forty years ago. Most were in exactly the same place. One of the families was happy to report that they had purchased a thirteen-hectare farm they used to work as tenants, and they also have an additional piece that is rented. “We chased the padrone [landlord/boss] out the door,” they said, “but the banks who are the new bosses came in through the window” (Barboni 2010). Their daughter works as a maid in the home of a large landowner, and one son works part time in the braccianti collective in order to support the farm financially. Another works in industry but is often laid off. Braccianti families who stayed in agriculture have either acquired their own farms or, for the most part, stopped doing seasonal work in the fields in favor of working in the processing plants or full time in various agriculture service industries. Most of the children of former braccianti have abandoned agriculture altogether for other careers, but they still live in the rural towns in homes near their parents. Because of the decline in membership and the shortage of local agricultural labor, the collectives now hire seasonal workers. Immigrants from Eastern Europe do 53 percent of the seasonal work (Alberizia 2016). They would have to set up permanent residence in order to become members. Seasonal workers stay in some of the houses vacated by the tenant and family farmers. The labor-intensive fruits and vegetables that were the financial basis of the collectives and small farms are no longer competitive in the global economy, and small farmers are tearing out their fruit trees and vines because they cost more to grow than the market value of the products. I was told that some of the transformation plants, which used to operate around the clock, are sitting empty. The sugar refineries are closed, due to European Common Market agreements and to the Italian government’s preference for locating the allotted number of refineries in the economically depressed Italian South. Italy imports milk, while 8,755 dairies had to close because of EEC politics (Baldissara and De Bernardi 1998: 342). There is talk of transforming the sugar refinery at Mezzano into a facility to burn wood for electricity, in which case the farmers will grow trees to be burned instead of food to be eaten. Fields are filled with tomatoes, which are harvested mechanically, followed by alfalfa. Some crops are grown for biofuel. Solar panels are seen today in many of the fields, even ones previously owned by a collective— which does not sit well with former members, who say that people cannot eat electricity. A new roundabout installed on a rural road merited a disapproving “tsk tsk” because of how much valuable agricultural land it wasted.

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43

Francesco Serantini dedicated a story to the marshland, “La strada sull’acqua” (literally “The road on the water”). He wrote, I went to give the last farewell to the “Valle del Mezzano,” it does not exist anymore because they drained it . . . the black and deserted earth is waiting, the roads are ready, who is this land waiting for? Does it know that men don’t want to be farmers anymore? (Piastra 1990: 19)

There is criticism about the sale of collective land, which members say was never supposed to be sold. They do not resent that they received no personal profit from the sales, but they say that it was always supposed to be there to provide employment for future generations. Managers told me that some land was sold, but other land purchased, to get rid of smaller pieces and to consolidate holdings. Driving a tractor twenty minutes to do a job that takes five minutes makes no economic sense. In 1972, the “turn caller” came at dusk with work assignments for the following day to assure that all braccianti in each locality obtained an equal number of days of work. By 2012 this was a thing of the past. Homes of former braccianti in the pleasant neighborhoods of the small towns are now worth about $200,000 each, about equal to the value of a Midwestern American professor’s home (except for the mortgage on the latter). Climbing roses, vines, and flowers adorn houses that are enclosed with wrought-iron fences, with automatic gate openers for two or three cars and trucks. The people are still self-sufficient in many of their needs, and the food they grow for themselves is grown without pesticides of any kind. Freezers and stoves are kept in outbuildings, and a store of canned peaches and other food is kept in a large pantry storeroom indoors. Wine is made at home and bread purchased daily. Flour, sugar, and coffee are purchased through the local cooperative. The local bakery is a prosperous multigenerational family business. When braccianti used to receive a share of product in-kind, the mill would acquire flour earmarked for each family, and would then credit them with a discount on bread. Pasta is still made daily from scratch with fresh eggs and flour. Some farmhouses in the appoderata zone have been renovated with new coats of carefully chosen, historically appropriate paint, or used for storage and seemingly left to disintegrate naturally alongside expensive new brightly colored villas with tiled roofs. Much of the farmland has been sold separately, and the farmhouses have been extensively renovated as simple but elegant country summer homes for families from the urban areas. The original quality of the masonry construction, with antique tile floors that would be prohibitively expensive to reproduce today, makes the homes worth restoring even at great expense. The former tenant farm homes no longer house the cows, tools, and stores of vegetables and meat. Vegetable gardens and orchards have replaced the crops that were traditionally grown all around

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the house to not waste a centimeter of space for cash crops. The farmhouses have become spacious, elegant retreats for families or retirees attempting to construct a more idyllic vision of a not-so-long-ago way of life. The tile floor in the guest bedroom I slept in was stained with the drippings of years of salted hams hanging from the ceiling. Replacing the tile would have been too expensive, and in any event it was better to preserve the reminder of its history (figure 2.4).

FIGURE 2.4. Tampieri-Patuelli restored tenant farm home, 2012 Photo by the author

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The genuine traditional recipes and techniques of the country life are still highly valued and not seen as replaceable with modern shortcuts. Today, the idea of fast food is even more unappetizing to Italians than it was in 1972. An invitation to visit the country where the traditional life is still practiced is envied by city dwellers, and afterwards they will ask the fortunate guest to describe each and every mouthwatering dish that was served. An invitation to the country is a time to eat as if it is one’s last meal on Earth: a first course of pasta (tagilatelle or capelletti with ragu or passetelli in brodo); homemade wine; fresh bread from the local bakery; tomatoes with mozzarella and basil; fresh-picked succulent lettuces with oil, salt, and lemon; grilled sausages and chicken; risotto with mussels gathered in the summer and frozen; fish or eels from the swamps; a dessert of strawberries with cake dipped in wine or caramelized figs with soft cheese; a large bowl of freshly picked cherries; and the after-dinner digestive nocino. A guest can think of nothing to bring as an offering except some expensive chocolates. After being treated to a meal like this, closing the shutters to darken the cool rooms of a stone country house for a long afternoon nap is what heaven must be like—the perfect end to the last meal on Earth. Growth has not eradicated the character of the towns. Many elegant new homes erected by construction cooperatives harmonize nicely with the old. In Emilia-Romagna, the practice of borrowing money to build houses is still not widespread. Although many towns have become bedroom communities, local economies are in large part sustained by wineries, bakeries, dairies, fruit and vegetable stands, and the amenities of agro-tourism (figure 2.5). One former farm worker’s home had a tile floor in the garage. Her family progressed economically because they were among the few who benefitted from the Agrarian Reform and because they worked hard and stuck together as an extended family. The notion of “amoral familism” that Edward Banfield erroneously used to describe the inability of Southern Italian peasants to cooperate in the 1950s does not apply here either. Extended families, strengthened in large part because of the collectives, are less patriarchal than those of family or tenant farmers. The economic success of individual families does not come at the expense of rural organizations. Although residents of the rural towns often say that they can’t wait to move to get away from the zanzari (mosquitoes), most of them come back after a couple of years or to retire. Campanilismo, literally “bell-towerism” (or pride in each small town’s church bell tower), is still strong. Each locality is known for a particular meal that no one anywhere else can duplicate. The Ballardinis, my adopted family in Longastrino, are a successful family who got their start after World War II in the Cooperativa Agricola Braccianti di Longastrino (Braccianti Agricultural Production Cooperative of Longastrino). When they took me into their home in the 1970s, there were three generations living in the household: Ernesto and Adriana, their son

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FIGURE 2.5. Giuliana Ballardini buying bread at multigenerational family-owned bakery, 2012 Photo by the author

Giordano and his wife Giuliana, and their beautiful daughters Valentina and Katia. Along with Giordano’s sister Giordana and her husband Andrea, and Giordano’s brother Romano and his wife Teresa, all eight adults worked in the braccianti collective. In 2010, the house looked just as I remembered it, except that the greenhouse in the back no longer contained the kitchen garden, since produce is grown and brought in from their twenty-hectare farm. The two bathrooms had been remodeled; solar panels covered the roof of their garage, and the outbuildings no longer contained a goat, chickens, rabbits, and pheasants. They wondered if I might be disappointed that they no longer belonged to their cooperative. They first rented and then purchased their own twenty hectares, which makes more sense for a family in which all adults work in agriculture than it would be if they all had to take turns working on the collective farm. The collective farms are more convenient for families that have wage earners working in other sectors of the economy, and especially for women whose husbands do not work in agriculture. The street seems busier now, and directly across from the house is a large garage filled with tractors and heavy farm equipment; it doesn’t seem to belong in such a nice residential area. All of the houses, which are at least two stories of stone with marble or tile interiors, formerly belonged to the collective members, but today the residents work in other jobs. The town has

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a look of a prosperous bedroom community or small-town neighborhood. People tend to live in those houses their entire lives. Both born in 1920, Ernesto and Adriana celebrated their seventy-eighth wedding anniversary as great-great-grandparents (trisnonni) in 2016. My last visit was in 2014 when they were ninety-four years old, and at that time Ernesto still drove and they both still helped as much as they could. Adriana, who died in 2017, was still helping Giuliana, who runs the household with great efficiency, fixing all the delicious meals; constantly sweeping and mopping the tile floors; washing and ironing everything, including handkerchiefs, napkins, underwear, and clothes to give away; canning the produce; sewing; and making all linens by hand with embroidery and lace. What the Ballardinis grow to eat themselves is organic, but what they sell is not. Ernesto remembered my mother’s name (Irene) and asked about her. My mother was also born in 1920 and had accompanied my daughter and me for a short visit in 1980. The closeness of the families and the way Italian men expressed such emotion and cried when we left made a big impression on her (figure 2.6). Like me, Giordano and Giuliana are now grandparents. When his granddaughter came in and jumped on his lap, Giordano said how important it was to be a grandfather and how grandfathers are needed to teach children

FIGURE 2.6. Ernesto and Adriana Ballardini shelling peas, 2012 Photo by the author

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to have a tender heart. When the conversation later turned to what Giordano thought of Berlusconi, the tenderness disappeared, and he said that Berlusconi was the worst person on the face of the earth. Giordano wanted to know about the environmental devastation caused by British Petroleum (BP) in the Gulf of Mexico, which is a big concern for people who live so close to nature. Ernesto and Giordano are hunters and fishermen who provide food for the family from the marshland and the Adriatic. Many of the species of birds are gone, and new fish that have been brought in have taken over. Giordano now makes the wine, and judging from the wall-to-wall cases of birds, he is an expert taxidermist and carpenter. Also on display are about thirty of his handmade violins, oil paintings of local scenes, and a collection of cycling trophies. Now that they have their own land, he has also learned to become a mechanic. The family is doing very well now. Each brother has his own land and the sister and her husband, who benefitted from the Agrarian Reform, have expanded from the fourteen hectares they had thirty-five years ago to over three hundred now. Two generations, instead of three, now live in the Ballardini home. They have substantial savings, own a condominium at the beach, and pay for an apartment in Alfonsine for Ukrainians who take care of an elderly aunt. Italian social security is not enough to support the aunt, who has to depend on family. Giordano and Giuliana’s two daughters live nearby. One works for a printing service and the other in a fruit transformation cooperative. The entire extended family lives within a radius of a few blocks, and children regularly stop by to play with cousins, have a meal, or wait for their parents to get home. We talked about changes that had occurred in the thirty-five years since my fieldwork. One interesting thing is that when young people marry nowadays, they both have to have full-time jobs. This may be one reason for the decline in female membership in the braccianti collective, which used to offer only part-time employment. Another reason may be that the expansion of the transformation cooperatives provides more opportunities for employment. The Ballardinis’ daughter does not want to work outside in the fields; she would rather work indoors. Also, mechanization of jobs in the fields has replaced all except seasonal labor, which is done by foreigners from the Ukraine, Romania, and Egypt. Foreign workers can legally get a “voucher” work permit, but there are also workers who come illegally. According to Giordano, the large private farms exploit these workers. To him, this means that they, and not the collective farms that continue to pay union wage (to as many workers as possible), are the ones who have “failed” (figure 2.7). Giuliana said that these immigrant workers get paid twenty euros (twentyseven dollars) a day, which isn’t enough to live on, but added that the quality

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FIGURE 2.7. Giordano Ballardini with granddaughter Cristina, 2012 Photo by the author

of their work is so bad it isn’t even worth paying them that. Her opinion must be based on comparison with the quality of work she was used to in the braccianti cooperative. She has done agricultural work since she was a teenager. Originally from a large family of tenant farmers, she gained independence going to work on the braccianti cooperative. Each year her wages increased because of the union, and unlike the situation for young people today, she said that her earnings had real purchasing power. I held a long discussion with Andrea Bersani, Giordana’s husband, an imprenditore (entrepreneur) who began in the braccianti agricultural cooperative and was the first farmer in 1988 to purchase a computerized tomato harvester (it picked the red ones first, and then the green ones). He is known locally as the “Tomato King,” and he says that his farm is either the largest in Italy or just smaller than another somewhere in Tuscany. He said he learned advanced methods of agriculture from working in the braccianti cooperative, was able to get very good loans, and now rents some of his land from the cooperative. His computerized harvester is an American machine, and he thought it was interesting that, when he had a problem with it, they sent an American engineer who looked like an ordinary workman to come and

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fix it. He said an Italian engineer would be dressed in a suit and tie and would have brought an assistant along to carry his briefcase. Andrea said they had come a long way: they had obtained good loans to purchase large equipment over five years, and they now have three full-time and eight part-time employees. Their home, across the street from Giordana’s parents, is the same as it was thirty-five years ago. Instead of building a new house for themselves, they had a beautiful duplex villa built ten years ago for their daughters, who are now the managers of the farm. They have already paid back the entire investment. Andrea tells me, “I am very proud of the women in my family.” He beamed with pride and said that he was very happy. His daughter told me that it would be impossible for a young person to go into agriculture unless they had family who already had land. Because the women of the family now manage the operation and need to be available for vendors and contractors, they cannot go home to fix the main daily meal. The solution was to build a kitchen, with a wood-burning grill and oven, onto the office building that also houses the farm equipment. It is a perfect space for parties. They entertained seventy-eight people on May 1, 2010, for International Workers’ Day (figure 2.8).

FIGURE 2.8. Left to right: Dania, Giordana, Andrea (the Tomato King), and Barbara Bersani, 2010 Photo by the author

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A COOPERATIVE PROVINCE IN A COOPERATIVE DISTRICT According to Pier Paolo D’Attore, a local historian and mayor of Ravenna from 1993 to 1997, it could be said that Ravenna is a “cooperative province in a cooperative district.” In Ravenna, the exodus of the agricultural population from the rural areas was slowed by the continuation of land-reclamation public works, the availability of local industry and tourism jobs, and the cooperatives of production and labor that arose after 1945 in every rural town. They rented agricultural land and assumed contracts for public works, transport, reclamation, water systems, and building trades. In so doing, they affected not only the modernization of agriculture but also the pattern of economic development of entire settlements. Cooperatives and networks of cooperatives “mediated the transition from countryside to city, from agricultural underemployment to specialization in the building trades.” They also flourished in the agro-industrial, transport, service, textiles, and ceramic sectors. By the 1970s, the rural towns in the low plain that had been inhabited mainly by the braccianti were not purely agricultural anymore (D’Attore 1998: 320–21). Instead of working in the petrochemical factories established by the Christian Democratic government and private companies, many of the young men of Ravenna’s low plain by the 1970s found employment mainly in the locally developed mechanical, artisan, building, and tourism-related industries, while their wives continued to work in agriculture on collective farms and in fruit and vegetable transformation cooperatives. Although agricultural wages did not keep up with those in the city, agriculture was profitable and wages improved as a result of increases elsewhere in the economy. D’Attore explains that, even with high unemployment in the rural areas, the braccianti were averse to working in the petrochemical industry due to a mixture of “nostalgia and hostility.” The plants damaged the local environment with pollution and conflicted with locally strong traditions of unionization, egalitarianism, and cooperatively managed enterprises. Capitalistic enterprises, and even attempts by their own collectives to be more responsive to the market, seemed to the braccianti to violate human dignity (ibid.: 319, 322). The braccianti, who were never merely unspecialized agricultural workers, were essentially jacks-of-all-trades, and they took advantage of the development of those industries by joining the construction cooperatives. Labor cooperatives obtained the contracts for construction of the chemical plants and the port of Ravenna and built all the housing that was needed as the economy developed and people moved to urban and suburban areas. In a four-year period in the 1970s, four hundred housing units were built with government loans for housing cooperatives in Ravenna, a city of 130,000 people. These high-quality brick condominiums were built by “Red” labor

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cooperatives, with tile floors and walls in kitchens and bathrooms, high ceilings, hurricane shutters, tall and wide interior wood doors, and expensive fixtures. Forty years later, my city friend’s apartment is still beautiful; all she has had to replace were the appliances. Historian Andrea Baravelli studied the careers of 212 individuals from the braccianti collective farms in Mezzano, Sant’Alberto, and Cervia who left between 1945 and 1975. During this time, when mechanization was increasing the amount of land needed to provide employment for each worker, the collectives continued to make the difficult decision to acquire more and more land. No one, according to Baravelli, would have thought the braccianti were on the verge of extinction in 1975. The individuals in his sample became private farmers, shopkeepers, artisans, truck drivers, agricultural technicians, domestics, and hotel workers. Over 25 percent became self-employed. Nationally, according to Baravelli, there was little social mobility, but the braccianti who left the collectives stayed in their new careers and “did not go backwards.” The collectives helped them, encouraging them by “putting their membership on ice” so they could return if they needed to; however, less than 2 percent did. A “great transformation” resulted from “multiple convergent processes.” Although “the adversaries of mechanization and economic rationalization were effectively combatted for over half a century . . . the problem became not how to stay but how and where to go.” While the braccianti class was disappearing, only a third of Baravelli’s sample moved from their rural towns, mostly to Ravenna; very few moved out of the province. In the 1950s, twenty-seven braccianti changed careers and residence. In the next decade, that number was nineteen. And from 1970 to 1975, it was seven. This grande salto (big jump) concluded positively for the large majority of ex-braccianti, which was a “sigh of relief ” for the cooperative system and the social protection it provided. Because of the cooperative system, something that in other times would have happened in a violent and traumatic expulsion of excess manpower became a “grand motor of the transition to economic modernity in Ravenna.” In little more than twenty years, the braccianti essentially disappeared, without moving away from the Ravenna countryside (Baravelli 2004: 195, 199, 188–89, 204, 202, 206). There was, however, an “aging of the countryside” that began in the 1960s, in that those who did leave (but often returned) were the young (D’Attore 1998: 317). The younger generation, whatever their employment, retained a close relationship with and loyalty to their local towns and the agricultural collectives, identifying with the local history of struggle against the padroni, or “bosses.” Family members still belonged to collectives, their homes displaying political and cooperative symbols and the ever-present wheelbarrows repurposed as planters for flowers. D’Attore does not go so far as to

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say that all cooperatives in the region were of braccianti origin, but he does with certainty say that the bricklayers who built the apartment houses and homes and infrastructure of the factories were the same ones whose parents twenty years ago had reclaimed the swamps and whose wives still worked part time on the local agricultural collectives or transformation cooperatives (D’Attore 1998: 321). CHANGE, NOT FAILURE In the 1970s, I naïvely thought it possible that the persistence of these particular agricultural production cooperatives represented a reversal of a widespread, worldwide trend in agriculture wherein the people were leaving the land to the fate of a robot-like, capital-intensive agribusiness and flocking to the uncertain fate of the cities. In 1965, Folke Dovring (in Land and Labor in Europe in the Twentieth Century) had already indicated that this exodus was taking place generally in Italy, with the attendant large-scale, capital-intensive farming (1965: 381). The massive changes that have occurred since the 1970s in that direction are by no means proof that pessimists were right about human nature causing de-collectivization; nor do they invalidate the significant value of the Ravenna agricultural production cooperatives to anthropological theory or the experience of the Ravenna cooperators to intentional grassroots attempts to stem the relentless tide of modernization and globalization. Among the monumental changes that have occurred in Ravenna since the 1970s are the fact that the number of collective members is only a small fraction of what it was; that the collective farms have become capital- as opposed to labor-intensive (which was one of the things the workers fought against the large privately owned enterprises for doing in the 1970s); that the passion for the ideological cause of the rights of labor and the connection to labor unions and political parties has almost entirely disappeared; that immigrants from Eastern Europe are brought in for harvesting; that some collective land is leased out to private farmers; that mergers have reduced the production cooperatives from thirty-three to seven, and that membership is limited; that most rural women are now working full time outside of agriculture instead of part time in the collective; and that the collectives no longer have as many “make work” crops that lose money as they once did. There is a fairly widespread misperception that the collectives have “failed,” and even that the collective land was sold. This is because of the merger of the thirty-three local collectives into seven and the reduction in the ability of collectives to “make work” (at union wage levels) for members following the collapse of the market for fruit in the 1980s.

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What has happened has been change, not failure: whether any type of organization eventually changes or even dies out is not the point. In the United States, only half of new private firms survive for five years, but no one would blame human nature. The patrimony in land owned by, as opposed to being just rented by, the Ravenna collectives—land that is passed on from generation to generation without being privately owned—has increased, and part of it has been set aside to return to nature. Diversified and organic crops are grown, instead of monocultures. As for the members, savings by the older generation provided for the education of their children, who have gone into a variety of other careers. Their parents and grandparents, who otherwise would have had to immigrate to the cities where there were no jobs, accumulated those savings thanks to the agricultural production cooperatives and the vertically integrated transformation, marketing, and consumer cooperatives that linked small farmers with the production cooperatives. Those cooperatives of the “second degree,” as they are called, could not have been successful without the economy of scale of the production cooperatives. Small privately owned farms have expanded their patrimony in Ravenna from 31,416 hectares in 1948 to 80,862 in 2010 (Pretolani 2006: 58). They owe their survival to the agricultural system built upon the base of the agricultural production cooperatives. The result is an agro-ecological (as opposed to agribusiness) model of development. There is little or none of the indiscriminate use of pesticides, genetically modified cultivars, or gigantic confined animal feeding operations like those found in the United States. City dwellers today frequent street fairs with upscale fresh food and products from the country. The Ravenna countryside is still alive with small family farms (figure 2.9), and all of the small towns seem to have prospered in the last thirty-five years. According to John Bodley, there is less concentration of wealth and less control by outsiders in small towns and villages, and “the most equitable distribution of economic power is found in the smallest places that have grown the least” (2001: 367). That assessment seems to apply here. As might be expected with the world economic crisis, there are an increasing number of requests to join Ravenna’s agricultural production cooperatives. An immigrant from Africa, who specialized as a tractor driver and was recently admitted as a member, was featured in a calendar driving an enormous tractor. His village back home was so impressed that they elected him chief in absentia. On a less positive note: with what is going on now in Italian agriculture following the entry into the European Economic Community, adoption of the euro, and competition on a global scale, it is possible that the entire agricultural economy, whose backbone is the small farms, will not survive. If the agricultural production cooperatives took in every unemployed person and every immigrant and had to “make work” for them, they

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FIGURE 2.9. Family-owned dairy, 2010 Photo by the author

would have to sell land, and then they too would disappear. Whereas the Ballardinis can still make a good living supporting a family of four on twenty hectares of land, I am told that to provide full employment for one agricultural worker, paid union wage on a collective farm, it would take twenty hectares of land and a capital investment of $500,000. According to Mario Pretolani’s analysis of the productive system in Ravenna in 2000, there was enough work for 11,000 people (approximately 5 percent of the population), or one each for the 11,000 farms in the province. He pointed out that “the areas with the highest presence of braccianti production cooperatives are those with the largest losses in employment.” The small farmers, he said, succeeded “in guaranteeing a higher level of employment and superior income. . .” (Pretolani 2006: 14, 37). But as of the 2010 census, there was (according to Pretolani’s estimate of 288 days per fulltime worker) only enough work for 9,147 workers. The number of farms in Ravenna was 8,998, the number of workers on the family farms was 18,077, and in addition there were another 3,113 full time employees and 12,524 occasional laborers. Theoretically, if all work were divided among the total of 33,714 workers, each would have less than one-third of a full-time job. Forty years ago, my analysis of the productive system was that there was enough

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work for 22,000 of the 60,000 who worked in agriculture. At that time, it took four hectares of land to provide full employment for one worker; today, it takes twenty. Large collective farms are constrained by market forces to become fully mechanized, with fewer of the labor-absorbing crops that operated at a loss but which provided work at union wage for the braccianti members in the 1970s. People say that production costs have increased but the market price of fruit is the same as it was thirty-five years ago because of globalization, which hurts the small farmers the most because they depend on labor-intensive crops (figure 2.10). In a very real sense, many small private farmers are in the same position that agricultural workers on the collective farms were in one hundred years ago, when they often had to work for below union wage or temporarily forgo salaries altogether. Forty years ago, collectives were able to provide only part-time work and had to coordinate with unions to augment other work on private farms. Collective agriculture was ideal for women whose husbands worked in nonagricultural jobs. Today, many of the smallest private farms tear out fruit trees because the costs of production are too high; they can hang on only by bringing in income from nonagricultural sources.

FIGURE 2.10. Ballardinis’ great-great granddaughter Emma in giant tomato harvester, 2010 Photo by the author

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Aging farmers have beautiful homes and family members who commute to the city for work. As in the United States today, prospective young farmers can’t afford to buy them out. According to the 1970 census, there were no owner-operators over sixty-five years old, but in 2010, 43.4 percent were over sixty-five (Benini and Pezzi 2011: 14). In 2015, 75 percent (1,310,632 farms) of Italy’s 1.75 million farms were below five hectares. The average size in Ravenna has only increased from seven hectares in 1970 to thirteen hectares in 2010. The Ballardinis’ farm of twenty hectares is one of the 93 percent of Italian farms that are below twenty-five hectares (Pasini 2016). They complain about the lack of support from the European Economic Community, whose resources are directed toward the 5 percent of Italian farms over thirty hectares. Time will tell whether the smaller private family farms (such as the Ballardinis’) will continue to expand and whether the collectives or large private farms will buy their land. The Bersanis, both husband and wife, began as members of the braccianti collective. Their farm, which was one of the few that benefitted from the Agrarian Reform, is now a very successful large operation managed by their daughters (figure 2.11).

Figure 2.11. Alice the Anthropologist with three generations of Bersani women, 2010 Photo by the author

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Inevitably, most if not all of the smaller farms will be rented out and finally sold. But in Ravenna, despite the fact that “for every 100 working Italians there are 15 people seeking a job and 20 willing to work,” which is by far “the highest among the 28 EU countries” (Salzano 2015), the class of braccianti has essentially disappeared, with foreigners making up most of the seasonal workforce. So, when the braccianti collectives from the towns of Alfonsine, Longastrino, Mezzano, Sant’Alberto, San Lorenzo, and Voltano merged in 2011, they dropped the Braccianti Agricultural Cooperative (abbreviated as CAB) from their original names because it seemed “old.” The new farm, which became one of the two largest in Italy, was named Agrisfera. The six other merged collectives are still CABs. They are all in the top 0.2 percent in terms of size of Italian farms (table 2.7). Only time will tell whether the raison d’être of Ravenna’s collectives will eventually return to emphasize in new creative ways their historic purpose of “making work” rather than the present (also worthy) goals of preserving the patrimony built up by previous generations, contributing to environmental sustainability, and serving as innovators and leaders in organic and humane agricultural methods. TABLE 2.7. Farm Sizes in Italy, 2016 Size in Hectares Below 5

Number of Farms 1,310,632

5–15

262,173

15–25

71,674

25–50

63,697

50–100

31,697

100–250

13,585

250–500

2,314

500–1,000

Examples

595

Ballardini Farm: 20 Hectares, in the bottom 93 percent of Italian Farms

CAB Fusignano CAB Cervia and CAB Bagnacavallo and Faenza

1,000–2,000

72

CAB Campiano

2,000–4,000

15

CAB Massari and CAB Terra

over 4,000 Source: Pasini 2016

2

AGRISFERA

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Table 2.8. Distribution of Annual Employment of Braccianti in the Province of Ravenna, 1972 Source

Number & percent of Hectares

Total Days of Employment

Large Private Farms

38,651 (25 percent)

221,003 (11 percent)

5.7

Red Collectives

14,226 (9 percent)

617,000 (31 percent)

43.4

Other (small farms, refrigerator and packing plants)

1,131,140 (57 percent)

Total

1,969,143

Source: Servizio Contributi Agricoli Unificati (Employment Office) Ravenna

Days per Hectare

CH A P TE R

3 T H E R E D B E LT

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬

P

olitically, Emilia-Romagna is known as Italy’s highly publicized “Red Belt” (cintura rossa). The term originally referred to the red roofs in Bologna but came to signify communist, socialist, and anarchist strongholds. The Romagnols are known for their hot-blooded spirit, rooted in a fierce anticlerical sentiment that arose out of centuries of stifling domination by the Roman Catholic Church (the term “Romagna” comes from this). According to Irving R. Levine, a “map of the former states ruled over by the Pope would, if laid over a map of Italy, coincide to a great extent with the regions of greatest Communist strength” (Levine 1963: 174). To portray the Red Belt as ideologically homogeneous would be inaccurate. Small towns in the hill region do not share the subcultural traditional “values of labour, equality, solidarity” that characterize the low plain. Some enclaves within the Red Belt are “White” strongholds, particularly in areas where “the practice of sharecropping and scant levels of proletarianization fostered the development of Catholic associationism . . . [and] where the predominance of small land-ownership obstructed the expansion of the Communist Party and its ideals” (Barbieri 2012: 280–83). Giovanni Barbieri’s present-day analysis of votes for the right-wing Northern League, for example, shows a clear geographical pattern. The Northern League “defends the ambitions of the productive North—in particular those of the small businesses among which it has its bastions of support—from the arrogance and corruption of the capital.” It advocates a strict immigration policy and secession of Northern Italy because the South is seen as depen-

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dent on government welfare. The penetration of these and other right-wing ideas in Emilia-Romagna’s Red Belt in 2008 seemed limited to the small towns in the hills and was strikingly absent from the overwhelmingly leftwing braccianti settlements in the low plain (the bassa pianura or larga) that were once characterized by large capitalistic farms (map 0.3). This pattern may not hold for much longer. This is because of anti-immigrant sentiment, the economic “crisis,” and the inability of the “Red” subculture to respond to needs of the smaller towns on the periphery of their areas of influence (ibid.). Values and convictions in the younger generation have weakened, and to many, the fact that only 73 percent of the voters in Emilia-Romagna voted in the November 2014 election is an unimaginably disturbing sign. TORTELLINI COMMUNISTS Anthropologist David Kertzer, who studied working-class neighborhoods in Bologna a year before I went to Ravenna, says that in the eyes of Americans the existence of a strong Communist Party in Italy conjured up “dark visions of totalitarianism linked to Moscow.” But the Partito Communista Italiana (PCI, the Italian Communist Party), according to Kertzer, attracted allegiance not so much by espousing a hardline ideology of class liberation but by absorbing individuals and families through “ritual observances” into the social associations and festivals of the “Communist World” (Kertzer 1980: xv). A review of Comrades and Christians explains how, “in deliberate contrast to earlier accounts of communism as pathology, [Kertzer] presents a rather benign view of the local Communists and sets their success in the context of Italian society” (Stern 1980). It is true that Palmiero Togliatti, who succeeded Antonio Gramsci as head of the PCI, wanted the Communists to be seen as the good guys, advocated peaceful participation of Communists in the government, and even (unthinkably to many) agreed to amnesty for Fascists. Togliatti kept the partisans from the Northern Italian Committee for National Liberation (CLN) from turning Italy into another bloodbath, as happened in Greece, and thus built the largest Communist Party in Europe, one that attracted votes because it became more democratic and mainstream. He saved the party from alienating those who did not want a civil war in Italy, and he had “few illusions about the overall political and social fabric of a society that contained a strong reactionary component which would prove difficult to remove” (Agosti 2008: 152). The United States, in fact, was poised to intervene if the radicals were to start a civil war, and the Marshall Plan “was carried out in an atmosphere of latent civil war” (Ellwood 2012: 360). Many World War II partisans thought their struggle against fascism was, in fact, the beginning of a civil war and

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of a second Italian Risorgimento (or “Resurgence”). Guido Crainz describes the barbaric killing of a count and his whole family, maid, and dog on July 7–8, 1945, near Lavezzola. He also mentions that Alfonsine, one of the traditional “capitals of Romagnol rebellion,” had the highest number of agrarians killed or disappeared after the war (Crainz 1994a: 228). Although the Soviets agreed that Italy after World War II was to become part of the Western Bloc and Moscow had no intention of promoting a revolution in Italy, Stalin kept a line of communication open with the Italian Communists and poured money into the PCI. At that point, there was certainly something for the US government to be worried about, and the Italian Red Belt was considered to be a front line of the Cold War (Logue 2006: 2). Togliatti was right. Italians were frightened by the invasion of Hungary and the 1948 coup d’état in Czechoslovakia. Communists were excommunicated from the Church, and the Italian military stood ready to squash revolt. However, “perhaps more than any other factor, though, the [1948] election had become a proxy vote: for or against the United States or the Soviet Union, for or against the Marshall Plan . . . [and] the minister of labor exhorted Italians ‘Don’t spit on the plate that feeds you.’” (Behrman 2007: 176). It should be mentioned that the Marshall Plan for post–World War II reconstruction, which was designed to buy and pay for the elimination of the communist threat, did not eradicate what became a uniquely Italian brand of communism. According to John Logue, The CIA poured money into the region to split the labor and co-operative movements. But lacking the large-scale industrial base of a Milan or a Turin, a funny thing happened: The left-wing government in Emilia-Romagna embarked on a strategy of promoting small business for economic development. It encouraged employee ownership, consumer cooperatives, and agricultural cooperatives, and it encouraged the development of cooperative institutions for all small businesses—co-ops and family-owned firms alike. It was, as Alberto Alberani of the left-wing Legacoop federation characterized it, a policy of “Tortellini Communism” . . . [which] also paid off politically for the left. (Logue 2006: 2–3)

In emphasizing the important role of social associations in the formation of political allegiances in the Red Belt, Kertzer says he is in no way trying to downplay the importance of ideological factors. Kertzer says that he found, exactly as I did, that “politics sometimes seems to be all people talk about there” and that when a party member is asked why he chose to join, “he almost invariably gives an ideological reason” (Kertzer 1980: 261, 56). But Kertzer suggests a more dominant role of political elites than I found to be the case in my study of Ravenna. In “Gramsci’s Concept of Hegemony: The Italian Church-Communist Struggle,” Kertzer states that

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today, people who grow up in communities where social life is dominated by the Party-linked organizations and symbolism, and people who move into such social settings, provide the basis for Communist strength in the nation. And in the places where the Church remains socially ascendant, where the Party has been unable to establish its social presence, its capillary organizational net, people share in the ideology of the Church. (Kertzer 1979: 54–55)

In her review of Comrades and Christians, Lidia Dina Sciama maintains that it is conjecture to think that bureaucrats, either priests or commissars, could create social systems and creeds “like shoes or loaves of bread.” This “battle for ritual supremacy,” waged between the PCI and the Church, was not a simple matter of “two Melanesian Big Men” vying to see who could sponsor the most lavish feasts (Sciama 1981: 50). According to D’Attore, employers asked local priests and police for advice about whom to hire from the troublesome braccianti towns, and instead recruited Republican and Christian Democrat workers from Venice for jobs (created by national investments) in the port and in the extraction of methane gas (1998: 318). These workers eventually joined unions and became Communists. This change in political beliefs required more than a shift in social associations manipulated by elites. There were plenty of Republican and Christian Democrat “circles,” with café bars and clubs, to belong to if they chose to keep their political orientations. In the United States, surveys show that “citizens participate in public life precisely because they believe the issues at stake relate to their values and ideals” (Nyhan 2014: SR3). Workers in the Po River Valley and elsewhere in Italy, on their own and without manipulation by elites, developed strong beliefs about the padroni (landlords, bosses) and the priests who supported the status quo of Italian society. This would explain why Kertzer found that the Church was stronger in Veneto, where the priests aligned themselves with the interests of smallholders, and weaker in Emilia, where the alignment was with the large landowners (Kertzer 1980: 261). To Paul Ginsborg, “In the 1940s and 1950s much of social life in northern Italy revolved around the parish; in the central regions much the same could be said for the role of the left-oriented Case del Popolo (‘Houses of the People’). This was not so much civil society, as a society organized (if and where it was organized) according to belief ” (Ginsborg 2001b: 102). Strong socialist convictions were rooted deep in historical experience and in the soggy soil of the Po River Valley plain. Unique in Italy, the land at the mouth of the Po River encouraged the growth of a capital-intensive agricultural system that disrupted the traditional pattern of agriculture and provided the impetus for unionization and political struggle. The seasonality and irregularity of employment created conditions of rural poverty that were unlike the poverty of the south or the hills, where soils were depleted and mass emigration was the only possible means of survival. At the turn of

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the century, as shall be described in subsequent chapters, agricultural strikes on this plain preceded and outnumbered other strikes in Italian industrial centers. They were also of greater intensity and duration. In 1901, half of the working-age population in the lower plain of the Po Delta were landless workers, and “in ways that initially surprised Italy’s Socialists, capitalism had produced a rootless class conscious agricultural ‘proletariat’ driven by the very fanaticism of desperation that Marx had vainly predicted as the foremost outcome of urban industrial development” (MacGregor 2007: 69). Friedrich Vöchting, a Swiss student of sociologist and fascist theorist Robert Michels, noted in the 1920s that the agricultural workers on Ravenna’s low plain preferred to acquire land collectively because it was the only way to effectively use substandard land and to spread employment equally among them (1926: 323). These rural Italians in the lower plain of the Po Delta were encouraged by the memory of success of their own history of mutual aid; proletarian worker’s leagues, strikes, and demands for public works; their abortive attempt at revolution during the Settimana Rosa (“Red Week”) in 1914; the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia in 1918; and occupations of factories and land during the Biennio Rosso (“two ‘Red’ years”). However, they were not Communists. They were essentially antimonarchy Republicans and anarchists who were convinced that every form of power was dangerous. They would never send their wives or children to serve in the houses of the landlords. They weren’t tempted to emigrate: they stood together to stay in their own towns, and their dream was to have enough days of work to live. They developed the ideology of class struggle before they even began to organize (Billi 2002: 95, 99, 118). These ideas, as Gramsci theorized, did “break through the ideological domination of the ruling class” (Kertzer 1979: 324). They became a “collective religion,” and, unlike the tenant farmers who had difficulty associating with each other, once the farmers of the Po Delta began to obtain land collectively, they overcame those sorts of problems (Billi 2002: 96). “RED” POWER AND “THE IDEA” OF SOCIALISM The rural Italian tenant farmers, sharecroppers, and day laborers of the low plain of the Po Delta started out as antimonarchy Republicans and anarchists and later became mostly Socialists, Communists, and anti-fascists. In Atos Billi’s hometown of Voltana in the larga zone, only three people voted against and one person abstained in the last “free” election during fascism. (All over Italy, people were intimidated by the “brutally straightforward” way that fascist thugs manipulated elections [Ebner 2011: 38].) These voters were the same people who joined the resistance during World War II not

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only as a means to fight Nazism and fascism but also to bring about, even through violent methods, the expropriation of the means of production by the workers. Their goals were, broadly defined, to distribute “the appoderata zone to the tenant farmers, the larga to the braccianti, and the factories to the workers.” This, according to Billi’s local history, was “the philosophy of all the [World War II] partisans of the low plain.” In the mountains, the partisans consisted not only of Communists but also Republicans and Catholics, and they were under a military direction that was organized hierarchically. But on the low plain, the most dangerous place to wage guerilla warfare, the partisans were organized into very small, solidly Communist groups, who moved every day to minimize the danger of betrayals and spies. In 1946, 70 percent of the voters in Voltana were Communist and 18 percent were Socialist, but a surprising 48.5 percent voted for the Christian Democrats in 1948. By 1977, the left still had 77 percent of the vote (ibid.: 306–7, 238–39). After the war, there were bloody reprisals and even personal vendettas against Germans, Fascists, and landowners (ibid.: 239). The feeling was that if they did not make these people pay now, they never would. According to Guido Crainz, there were 9,364 dead and 1,167 presumed dead in Italy as a whole, and in the province of Ravenna, there were 150 dead and 20 presumed dead in these reprisals (2007: 79–80). Inexplicably, even cooperative founder Nullo Baldini was accused of collaboration with the enemy (Berselli 1966: 148). In a small town like Voltana, memories of fascist violence and subsequent revenge were not easily forgiven, as people saw each other on the streets every day. Some people had to move away; and, after the war, they never came back. For the Republicans, the resistance meant only the expulsion of the Germans, and for the Catholics it meant doing what was right against the Fascists. For the Communists, the resistance meant three wars: the patriotic war, a civil war, and a class war. The Communists who were strong in the Red Belt of Emilia-Romagna, Tuscany, Umbria, and Marche fought the patriotic war, and they started to fight the civil war in hopes of a class war and a socialist revolution in Italy. After World War II, the Communists were the only political party with the organizational ability to help with reconstruction. They felt that it was their turn to rule (Pavone 1991: 301, 305). On December 27, 1947, before the Christian Democrats secured control of the national government and before the Communists were purged, the Constitution of the Italian Republic was written by a coalition of anti-fascist parties and an Italian working class that was demanding major social change. It is a remarkable document that Berlusconi and Renzi have recently attempted to change. Communists and Catholics were in agreement on the basic principles regarding labor. In Article 1, the Constitution states that Italy is a nation founded on labor. Article 3 establishes the state’s responsibility

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to assure the conditions necessary for the development of the people’s own effective participation in the political, economic, and social organization of the country. Feminists today take it as a constitutional right that the state has a responsibility to assist women who have borne most of the responsibility for child- and eldercare, so that they too can fully participate in economic, social, and political life (Melandri and Campari 2010: 10). Article 4 states that citizens have a right to work. Article 5 says that Italy is to be decentralized with power at the local level, and also recognizes the autonomy of unions, political parties, and cooperatives. Article 44 imposes limitations on private ownership of land. Article 45 recognizes the social function of cooperative societies and offers the assistance of the state to societies of a mutualistic nature without ends of private speculation (Constitution of Italy 1947). Because the new Constitution delegated powers to the regions and local levels, the Communists, who were the majority in the Red Belt, secured control and could distribute government contracts. They supported cooperatives and unions everywhere based on “The Idea” (of socialism) that was, they felt, legitimized by what they did during the resistance. Although they were not controlled by Moscow, they did have a totalitarian worldview with the party at the center. The party decided who would run for office, who would get jobs, and who would work in the leadership in the unions and, to a lesser degree, in the cooperatives. In his local history of Voltana, Billi included copies of “letters of recommendation” by party leaders establishing the bona fides of former partisans relocating to another city (Billi 2002: 305). Kertzer described the same sort of recommendations provided by priests in Bologna who kept track of the 10 percent of the local population who attended mass for that purpose (Kertzer 1980: 243). Anyone who did not strictly follow orders from above was called a “revisionist.” Like many fellow directors of Ravenna’s cooperatives, Giulio Bellini, who “proved himself in the resistance and worked with such passion,” was more aligned with the interests of the members and found the attempts at intervention by the party and the unions “insufferable” (Checcoli, Graziana, and Vivani 1998: 127). Mario Tampieri reported the same thing (Guerra 2014). And, according to Tito Menzani, Up until the 1970s, there was a certain amount of subordination to the parties, particularly to the PCI and the unions, but the Communists were the first to ask for more autonomy for the cooperatives. Until then there was a “transmission belt” and frequent change of directors between them, and some less brilliant and prepared comrades would be parked in the League, which was called “the cemetery of the elephants.” But it is in no way possible to make a generalization. Several different researches have demonstrated how numerous directors of the cooperative movement, with a past as administrators or unionists, had proven to have great managerial and professional capacity. (Menzani 2013: 108)

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THE “MYTH” OF THE RESISTANCE According to Kertzer, the Italian Communist Party sought to legitimize itself, recruit new members, and forge national unity with Christian Democrats through “resistance symbolism” by consecrating places where partisans had fallen and by promulgating a “Myth of the Resistance” (Kertzer 1998:50). While some Catholic priests were virulent anticommunists and even fascists, other priests and lay leaders were heroes of the resistance. But when the ruling Christian Democrat party came to power, they pushed the Communists out. When former partisans tried to enter the schools to teach the children about fascism, “the door had been shut in their face.” Former Fascist Party members were driven out of the government but given amnesty, and they remained in the schools, courts, and other public institutions. According to Kertzer, Catholics attempted to demonstrate the participation of Catholics in the resistance, but they also saw the symbolism and ritual of the resistance as “building Communist strength at their expense” (Kertzer 1980: 159–60). “In referring to the ‘myth’ of the partigiani [partisans] . . . [Catholic activists said] the truth was that 80 percent of the partigiani were cowards.” A priest in Bologna told Kertzer that the partisans were responsible for a bloodbath, killing people for personal reasons, murdering priests, and shooting German soldiers in the back (soldiers who were just boys who didn’t choose to come here)—all while “knowing the Germans would retaliate by executing ten local residents” while they “would just go back in the hills, so they didn’t have to suffer the consequences of their action” (ibid.: 161–62). Kertzer’s concern was not with the historical questions of what happened. His interest was in “how the PCI sacralized and mythologized this historical event and how the Church reacted to this process” (Kertzer 1980: 157). The Communists tried in vain to use resistance symbolism, including reverence for Piero Calamandrei’s role in the postwar drafting of the Italian Constitution (Luzzato 2006), as a “precedent and as a sacred sanction” in their struggle “to be accepted as a partner in a governmental coalition with the Christian Democrats” (Kertzer 1980: 161). Their adversaries used citizen casualties caused by the resistance, and the vendettas in the war’s aftermath, to discredit the Communists. They were vilified in the press for crimes against civilians in Emilia-Romagna’s “Triangle of Death” (Ward 1996: 211), in what Claudio Pavone described as a civil war (Pavone 2013). Santo Peli’s description of the terrorist Group of Political Action (GAP) was that they were “neither devils nor angels” (Peli 2014). Even for scholars, the historiography of the resistance, and of fascism itself, “appears still to be dominated by factionalism” (Corner 2009: 125). There are some who still say that the resistance was not widely supported among the population (Absalom 1991) and also that, if so many people sup-

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ported it, maybe fascism wasn’t so bad (De Felice 1997–98). But to understand the ethos of Italy’s Red Belt, it is essential to realize that what has been alleged to have been a “consensus” in support for Mussolini was less likely here than anywhere else. Without widespread local support for the partisans, the “miracle of guerilla warfare on the open plain” (Ravaioli and Casadio 1977: 114) would have had little chance of success. According to Paul Corner, “most of the available evidence” indicates the fact that “the landless agricultural laborers of the Po Valley . . . had borne the brunt of attacks of the fascist squads in the early 1920s and had seen their wages reduced dramatically” (Corner 2009: 126). He also says that after World War II “there was no Italian Nuremburg.” And, with the “connivance of the Allies . . . fascism disappeared—conveniently for many—into a black hole” (ibid.: 126, 122). The Cold War, according to Paolo Pezzino, brought “a growing reluctance to embarrass Germany. International justice took a back seat to realpolitik. The Communists were now the enemy” (Amella 2011). Peter Tompkins, who spent five months behind German lines in Italy working for the U.S. Office of Strategic Services (OSS), the predecessor to the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), wrote that “the contribution of Italian anti-fascist partisans to the campaign in Italy in World War II has long been neglected.” Tompkins went on to describe how a “brilliant” partisan commander (code name Bulow) in his late twenties, who was the son of Romagnol peasants, sent a secret radio message and produced a sophisticated plan to save the city. Bulow split his forces into three sections and moved them by night along prearranged routes, where the residents had locked up their dogs and left doors open for emergency refuge (Tompkins 1998). Ironically, these anti-fascist partisans (most of whom were Communists, especially on the low plain) saved all the artistic treasures from repressive ancient regimes from bombardment (Nozzoli 1965: 347–48; Peniakoff 1965: 349–50; Vecchietti 1965: 351). Major Vladimir Peniakoff, of British Special Forces (Popski’s private army), worked with the partisans on the liberation of Ravenna. He received a commemoration for saving the Basilica at Classense, with no mention of the fact that he was going to bomb it and would have done so without the intervention of the partisans. Mario Tampieri, ex-president of Ravenna’s Provincial League of Cooperatives from 1972 to 1977, was born into a family of tenant farmers in Mezzano in 1929. He is one of the many people I met of his generation who exemplify the ethos of the Red Belt. He was a boy during World War II and remembers having to go to the Fascist Town Center to hear Mussolini (Il Duce or “Chief ”) on the radio telling them they were going to war. He remembers that when the Germans came they took all the strong young men to work camps. He remembers that his father and uncle were partisans, and he recalls seeing the Germans shoot a partisan. He and other kids accompa-

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nied people who brought dead Canadian soldiers to a Canadian cemetery for burial in Mezzano. Largely because of this experience, he spent his whole life working in unions and cooperatives, and upon retirement he founded the Circolo Cooperatori Ravennate, a cooperative archive and research center in Ravenna dedicated to all three cooperative movements (figure 3.1). The popular song “Bella Ciao Bella Ciao” (“Hello/Goodbye My Beautiful/My Love”), the partisan anthem symbolic of the World War II resistance, actually originated and gained international popularity after the war in 1947 when a group of young people gathered at a peace conference. Some claim that the song, which is still popular today as a resistance ballad, originated with the female rice paddy weeders (mondine), who sang this same song with different lyrics (as seen in the 1949 film Bitter Rice) because they were not allowed to speak (figure 3.2). Even if the rice weeders’ song was belatedly adapted to become a beautiful postwar partisan ballad, and even if it is an old children’s folk song that goes back further than the rice paddies of the Po Valley, the rice weeders deserve to take credit for it (Ghirardini 2012). These brave women who worked in water up to their waists for eleven hours a day were the first ones to stand

FIGURE 3.1. Mario Tampieri at a former fascist landowner’s palazzo (palace) in Mezzano where he saw Germans shoot a partisan, 2010 Photo by author

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FIGURE 3.2. Rice weeders (mondine), circa 1950 Photo courtesy of the Federation of Cooperatives

up to the landowners during fascism when strikes were against the law. According to Helmut Gruber and Pamela Graves, women were prominent in the chronology of labor unrest under fascism: strikes occurred among textile workers, rice weeders, cigar makers, and sardine packers in 1927; textile workers and rice weeders in 1929; textile workers, button makers, and rice weeders in 1931; textile workers in 1933 and again in 1934 (1998: 404). Elda Gentili Zappi, in If Eight Hours Seem Too Few: Mobilization of Women Workers in the Italian Rice Fields, quotes the women as saying, Although we are women We are not afraid For the love of our children We join the League. (Zappi 1991: 204)

It is important to understand the opposition of braccianti women to the fascist regime, which marginalized them as workers by giving landowners the advantage of only having to pay the (male) heads of families (Ravaioli 1986: 245). Working together in the rice paddies instead of isolated on the family farms, mondine felt a strong sense of anti-padrone solidarity among

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themselves (D’Attore 1998: 310). Claudia Bassi Angelini, who did a study of fascist women’s organizations in Ravenna, found that at the outset the fascist organizations supported by the Church appealed primarily to women from the cities and to rural women who were isolated from each other on the family and tenant farms, but not to the women who worked as day laborers on the low plain. After material incentives (educational courses and gifts of livestock) and disincentives (including prison) were known, and after mandatory membership was decreed, even anti-fascist women from the low plain began to join (Angelini 2008: 91, 99; 1997: 8). But it was women who continued to work in the fields during World War II, making sure the crops were harvested and assuring that the partisans had the provisions necessary for their success. Braccianti women adhered to anti-fascist, especially Communist, clandestine organizations and began reconstruction after the war with this same enthusiasm. They then became founders of the informal agricultural labor collettivi (labor collectives) and protagonists in the “Red” unions and agricultural production cooperatives (Ravaioli 1986: 245– 47). They were the mothers and grandmothers of the children FIGURE 3.3. Giordene Ranieri Bartoletti’s reared throughout Italy’s Red mother, 1972 Photo by the author Belt (figure 3.3). POLITICS, RELIGION, AND GENDER In the sidewalk cafés, Italy’s problems today are attributed to the existence of too many political parties, to corruption and patronage (clientelismo), and to Italy having “two governments,” one of which is the Mafia. In Ravenna, Silvio Berlusconi’s victory was explained to me like this: the choice was between the leftists, who were “in a fog,” and “shit.” In other words, the people

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had the fog for so long they decided to try out the shit for a change. Another explanation was that Berlusconi put entertaining shows and dancing girls on television. In Longastrino, the startling fact that a quarter of the voters in this tiny township apparently voted for Berlusconi was so “mind-boggling” to Andrea Bersani (Longastrino’s “Tomato King”) that he made it his business to go around to all the local bars to find out who the stupid people were. Bersani says he is in the middle politically, between those on the right who “want to make us slaves” and those on the left “who want to divide everything up.” He still identifies more with the left, although not the Bolsheviks. The larger town of Alfonsine, with twelve thousand inhabitants, is located close to Longastrino and is solidly in the larga zone. An analysis of voting patterns in Alfonsine indicates that what is now the center-left dropped from a peak of 70.3 percent of the votes (which equaled what I was told adhered to the Italian Communist Party in the 1970s) to only 50.2 percent of the voting population in 2013. According to Luciano Lucci, the center-left coalition remained committed to the Democratic Party in 2017. The coalition, if you can call it that, consists of the Democratic Party, the Olive Tree Party, the Italy of Values Party, the Boselli Socialists, the Federation of the Greens, the Rainbow Left, the Left Ecology Freedom Party, the Refoundation Communist Party, the Workers’ Communist Party, the United Left, the Civil Revolution, the Consumers Union, and the Party of Pensioners. The center-right coalition garnered 16.4 percent in 2013, from disillusioned youth, anti-immigrant bigots, neoliberals, and libertarians. It consisted of Forza Italia (Berlusconi’s party, named after a sports slogan), the People of Freedom Party, the Northern League, the New Force (neo-fascist) Party, and six others. Support for the right-wing Northern League, which was small in 2013, virtually collapsed in the area in 2017. The “Five Star Movement” (an anti–government corruption movement) received a surprising 15 percent of the support of the voting population in 2013, which dropped to 11 percent in 2014. The remainder of the population, 18.4 percent, did not vote. The nonvoters, according to Luciano Lucci, voted for Communist and Republican parties in previous elections (Lucci 2014). Considering the historic strength of Communist and left-wing political parties in the Red Belt, it is surprising that the Catholic Church is still an important part of national identity for Italians. In 2012, after I attended a First Communion ceremony followed by a large extended family celebratory dinner in an upscale agroturismo (rural tourism restaurant that also catered to large groups of locals), it was made clear to me sotto voce—in a quietly uttered private comment—that communions and death, but not necessarily weddings anymore, comprise the extent of involvement in the Church in some areas. The women bless themselves with holy water upon entering

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the church (and even post objections to the removal of crucifixes from the schools on Facebook). But the young fathers attending mass for the most part sit or stand silently and do not actively participate in the prayers. In the 1970s, the masses I attended were in Latin. In 2012, the one I attended was in Italian, and during the sermon, the priest even made a joke about Mussolini. According to Kertzer, acceptance of the Church does not necessarily entail acceptance of the priests, and even communists can believe in God. Atheism is not a requirement for Communist Party membership either, and Kertzer found that, when “speaking with older women who were party members, one often learns that Jesus was a socialist.” But regarding politics, Kertzer reports that women are considered to be “apolitical.” They say that “their husbands take care of those affairs” (Kertzer 1980: 165, 61). And Paul Ginsborg described the tension in families caused by men spending too much of their time working for political causes (2001a: 321). Rather than assuming women to be “apolitical,” the difference could simply be a matter of division of labor. Women are more responsible for work and relationships inside the household and family, and men take care of obligations outside that domain. It is no wonder that women might choose to leave the joint social responsibility of political action to their husbands. They have more time. As will be shown in subsequent chapters, women do get involved in politics. It was women, not men, who told me that “we should have kept going on strike” to force the issue of needed agrarian reform. Even during fascism, women weeders in the rice paddies of the Po Valley launched many successful strikes. Women were instigators and killed by police on the front lines of agricultural strikes in Ravenna. Women were more willing than men to make the financial sacrifices needed for collectively owned enterprises to accumulate necessary capital (Vöchting 1926: 268). And who, it should be asked, was home taking care of the family so that men could attend the party meetings? As anthropologist Marvin Harris would say, “Let me hear no more about the apolitical ‘nature’ of women.” THE “ECONOMIC MIRACLE” IN THE “THIRD ITALY ” The “Third Italy,” in northeast-central Italy, is to be distinguished from the “First Italy,” which is the northwestern triangle from Milan to Genoa to Turin containing the country’s largest heavy industries, and from the “Second Italy,” which is the impoverished, agricultural south. Surprisingly to economists, it was the “Third Italy” that experienced the highest industrial growth in the post–World War II period, through the growth of small and medium-sized firms specializing in craft-based industries. Because small, “pre-capitalist,” artisan-based industries are seen by economists as marginal

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and vulnerable to competition by low-wage countries (and theoretically only able to survive as subsidiaries of large capitalist firms), “attention has been focused on the social-cultural dimension,” which seems to have facilitated an “Economic Miracle” through remarkable growth of these independent businesses. According to Vera Zamagni and others, there is a negative correlation between the areas of braccianti settlements and the growth of this widespread network of small artisan industries in the “Third Italy” (D’Attore 1998: 3017). A positive correlation, on the other hand, can be shown between the former areas of sharecropping and family farming and the development of those enterprises. Although this seems to indicate a more entrepreneurial and individualistic “spirit” among the small farmers and tenants, other factors are also significant. These include the large sizes of the extended families; their disciplined collective organization; their pooling of income, sharing of expenses, and self-exploitation; their diversification into cottage industries and piece work to add to family income; their experience with economic calculation and accountability to the landlord; and their uncanny ability to accumulate savings by piecing together meager sources of income. The proletarianization of some members of the poorer families, who gained nonagricultural experience as braccianti or factory workers but still added income to the family unit, has also been mentioned as a contributing factor in the pattern of widespread small-scale industrialization (Nocentini 2011: 85). It is important that 22.6 percent of families in Emilia-Romagna were extended (as opposed to the 16.4 percent average for Italy) and that most of the extended families persisted primarily in the tenant and small-farmdominated areas (1971 Census, cited in Paci 1980). The persistence of tenant farming in Italy long after it had disappeared in the other developed European countries appears to have been a serendipitous pre-adaption to “family business,” which enabled some of those families to take advantage of opportunities to parlay traditional artisanal crafts into industrial success stories (Nocentini 2011: 85). While there is no doubt that the areas of sharecropping and family farming were more individualistic (i.e., were more politically Republican and Christian Democrat) and the areas of the braccianti had more of a collective identity and spirit (i.e., were more politically anarchist, antimonarchy Republican, Socialist, and Communist)—and while the areas inhabited primarily by braccianti are geographically peripheral to the concentrations of small family-owned artisanal and industrial businesses in “Third Italy”—the braccianti did become protagonists in the transformation of the countryside along the Adriatic coast. Collectively, their organizations developed strong building cooperatives and agro-industrial transformation and marketing net-

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works. Individually, the braccianti, who had always pieced together income from a variety of activities, became entrepreneurs in the tourism sector of the Adriatic seashore, with thousands of micro-enterprises in concessions and services built up around the large hotels that were originally financed by outside private capital. In that same area, the tenant farmers who migrated there—with larger families and more savings—established stores or small pensioni, which are small guesthouses for tourists with meals included. While the characteristics of “social capital” and conditions of “mutual trust”—which Robert Putnam and Francis Fukuyama consider to be directly related to, and predictors of, socioeconomic development—are difficult to measure, in all fairness it must be said that, whatever the cause, there was and to a lesser extent still is, a palpable spirit of cooperation with shared values and identities in Emilia-Romagna. Strong political subcultures, either “Red” (Socialist Communist) or, to a lesser degree, “White” (Christian Democrat), led to the establishment of political connections by both movements and to the development of strong networks of cooperatives. These were divided into three national federations: Socialist-Communist, Christian Democrat, and Republican. They provided the benefits of an economy of scale, without the capitalistic concentration of wealth and power. This was instrumental in the success of what has been called the “Economic Miracle in the ‘Third Italy.’” But in a statistical and geographical study, Boschma and Kloosterman found the purported relationship of “social capital” to the success of the “Third Italy” to be inconclusive (Boschma 2005: 139–68). Instead, the region benefitted from government-created “industrial sector service centers to support small business clustering in the region . . . combining the economies of scale with the advantages and flexibility of small business. . . . The result is thousands of small and medium-sized enterprises, perhaps the densest concentrations of small businesses in the industrial world” (Logue 2006: 5). Benetton is an example of a “Third Italy” company that became famous in the international clothing market. Over a twenty-year period studied by Alberto Rinaldi, during and following the economic slump of the 1980s, there was a tendency for larger firms in the “Third Italy” to increase in size. Smaller firms that survived did so by rapidly imitating technological advances and competing on price. The few multinational corporations that moved into the area did not come for lower wages but for the educated workforce. Growth continued, and Bologna became one of Italy’s richest cities, not only in money but also in quality of life. Incomes in Emilia-Romagna, according to an economics professor at the University of Bologna, are still 20 percent higher than the average income in Europe (Fanfani 2012).

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THE “EMILIAN MODEL” Faced with the need to do something (not too radical) about the deindustrializing cities in the United States, American president Bill Clinton invited Robert Putnam to Camp David in 1995 to discuss a decline in the country’s “social capital” since 1960 (Field 2008: 32). Putnam’s introduction of the “Emilian Model” to the United States focused on the existence of “social capital” without emphasizing the mass popular demand for reforms after World War II, the crucial role of the Italian Communist Party, or pointing out that the purpose of the “Emilian Model” in Italy’s Red Belt was to provide an alternative to the oligarchical direction of modern capitalism. According to Rinaldi, the “paramount characteristic” of the highly touted “Emilian Model” was that it was based on a local “dominant Communist political subculture.” He says that the party “gathered together into a heterogeneous coalition the urban working class, the peasantry and agricultural workers, and the urban entrepreneurial and middle classes, who were won over by administrative efficiency and relatively good services as compared with those available elsewhere in Italy.” Moreover, the party promoted “artisan and small business associations, credit co-operatives, marketing and purchasing consortia, local systems of industrial relations—which, originally conceived as ‘transmission belts’ of the Party’s policy, changed their nature over time and turned out to act as . . . a kind of collective entrepreneur which promoted co-operation, enforced social norms of fair play and stimulated economic growth” (Rinaldi 2005: 244–45). According to Robert Fitch, the “Emilian Model” was the result of “political action.” He says that while “people may not always be able to choose their leaders . . . they can never avoid choosing their political culture. People either opt for solidarity and participation or they choose indifference and clientism.” In Emilia-Romagna, the choice was for a “go-it-alone” political culture that rejected not only the “centralized Christian Democratic regime [that was] soon to become world famous for its corruption, clientism and bureaucratic indifference” but also the “philosophy of the national Communist Party . . . [with its] values of political centralism and economic concentration.” Because there were no industrial monopolies to tax, the local left-wing governments had the “more complicated task” of “competing on a world scale” with “tens of thousands of small companies [cooperating] intelligently on a local level.” They succeeded not by giving tax breaks to big businesses as in the United States, but by supporting small businesses, manufacturing, “innovative agricultural products,” and “militant trade unionism.” When an Italian American businessman wanted to put in a McDonald’s with low-wage workers in Bologna, they “disabused him of that illusion” (Fitch 1996: 18–21).

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Filippo Sabetti, in The Search for Good Government, explains that both the Communist mayor in Bologna and the Monarchist mayor in Naples “used their authoritative positions to grant ‘exceptions’ to zoning regulations . . . and to award municipal contracts from food catering services to public works projects, to their respective party members and supporters.” In one example, a municipal contract awarded to a “Red” production cooperative contained a contractual clause with “a penalty of one million lire for every day of interruption . . . [which] was waived after that public work contract was awarded.” Sabetti says that “cooperative leaders and individual members were required to turn over part of their earnings to party officials . . . [and] by the late 1950s . . . [this] had transformed the Communist Party into the largest private enterprise in the province” (2000: 98–99). Despite the similarities in the practices of the two cities, Sabetti found that “these practices did not negatively affect the overall policy performance of the Bologna government.” In Naples, on the other hand, “once faithful party followers had obtained secure, tenured, public employment, they sought to avoid being accountable to their superiors” (ibid.: 99–100). Surveys in the 1960s found that Neapolitans have “no more control over the caprices of human authority than over the uncertainties of the physical universe” (Allum 1973: 98). Sabetti’s explanation for the difference in the quality of government in Bologna and Naples is that the national Communist Party program from 1946 to 1956 planned for the takeover of the country, city by city. They established a decentralized system of self-rule that “relied very little on state subsidies.” Balanced budgets, he said, “provided excellent propaganda.” He cites a study showing that the tax structure of the Communist-run cities was the same as those run by Christian Democrats. And once party leaders “abandoned the call for a revolutionary takeover of the country in favor of an Italian Way to Socialism,” the “policy of a balanced budget, for example, gave way to a policy of state subsidies and deficit spending” (Sabetti 2000: 97–103). Sabetti is vehemently opposed to an explanation of these differences based on “cultural” characteristics, such as those of Northern vs. Southern Italy. He eviscerates Robert Putnam’s Making Democracy Work: Civic Traditions in Modern Italy for its explanation for good vs. poor government as based on differences in so-called social capital. It isn’t just a matter that Putnam’s analysis harkens back to 1955, to political scientist Edward Banfield’s discredited concept of “amoral familism”—in which the culture of the South is blamed for backwardness—but that Putnam’s more modern study, although based on years of research, is full of sloppy comparisons (ibid.: 199–200). Sabetti returned to Chiaromonte, which was the real name of the village Banfield studied. People remembered and spoke kindly of him, but “made it clear that Banfield seriously misunderstood what he observed and that he misrepresented the basic structures of village life as they existed in 1954 and

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1955.” The questionnaire he used fell into a “methodological trap” by not including an option for the villager who could have been a familist but not an amoral one (ibid.). Although Kertzer says that Putnam’s historical chapter would “cause many Italian historians’ blood to boil,” he says, The findings regarding differences in the functioning of regional bureaucracies are perhaps best illustrated not by the massive survey data but by a modest experiment performed by the researchers. In each of several regions, three letters were sent to different administrative departments requesting information about specific existing programs and procedures. In the northern region of Emilia-Romagna, two elicited thorough replies within a week and a third after one phone call. In the South, it was a different story: in Calabria, Campania, and Sardinia, none of the letters received any reply. Getting the requested information turned into a marathon of phone calls and personal visits. (Kertzer 1996: 227)

From this, one can see the allure of cultural “explanations” that end up doing nothing more than reinforcing stereotypes. In the Putnam study, the formation of regional governments with the same resources at their disposal seemed to provide the kind of controls necessary to compare the results in terms of functioning of regional bureaucracies. Yet the “explanations” for the differences do not stand up to scrutiny. Historical characteristics of the South that have been used to account for backwardness, such as being under the yoke of the Church, were also characteristics of Romagna. We should not forget that peasants in the South were just as capable of associating for the common good (Ginsborg 1984: 86), and that it was southern migrants to the northern factories who associated into unions (Ginsborg 2001a: 250). THE RISE AND FALL OF MUNICIPAL SOCIALISM From 1945 until the dissolution of the Italian Communist Party (PCI) in 1991, Emilia-Romagna’s city of Bologna was the party’s showcase municipality (Ginsborg 2001a: 203). According to David Kertzer, For whatever little it may be worth . . . [my] own personal political view [is] that the PCI has been a positive force in Bologna, both in terms of organizing and acting in the interests of the working-class population and in terms of running the most efficient, livable large city in the nation. There is no American city that does not suffer in comparison to Bologna. (Kertzer 1980: xxi)

Communists filled the vacuum left by the collapse of the fascist government by building high schools, nursery schools, low-income housing, and municipal laundromats, undertaking drainage projects, and installing street

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lighting. They provided subsidized school lunches and improved the quality of after-school care. They improved the healthcare system and provided better care for the elderly, mentally ill, and disabled. The mayor of Bologna in 1972 was historian Renato Zangheri, who wrote several studies of the cooperative movement in Ravenna. He preserved Bologna’s historic city center by limiting private vehicles and providing inexpensive public transportation On the national level, the Communist Party managed to dodge the “Bribesville” scandals that dealt “a serious blow to all the parties of the ruling majority, especially the Christian Democrats and the Socialists.” The Communists took advantage of an amnesty granted in 1989 for illegal contributions by industry to political parties. The Communist Party leaders, according to Renato Brunetta, received illegal “financing from the Soviet Union,” and these “funds were managed in an extremely hierarchical way by the Party’s central apparatus and were passed on via the ‘Red cooperatives’ . . . [which] were and still are a truly entrepreneurial system run in tandem with the Party” (Brunetta 2001: 26, 31). In 1991, the Italian Communist Party, led by Achille Occhetto since 1988, became the PDS (Democratic Party of the Left). In 1998, Occhetto announced the end of Euro-communism (the svolta della Bolognina or “Bologna’s turning point”). The PDS then became a progressive left-wing party, and the remaining radicals left to join the PRC (Communist Refoundation Party). And, for the first time since 1945, Bologna elected a center-right mayor in 1999. Although the left was voted out, the social programs instituted were kept in place because of wide public support. According to Alberto Rinaldi, the Communist Party’s “governing style was originally based on [policies] ordered by virtue of their ‘nearness’ or ‘distance’ from the working class . . . [and] the whole of the first phase of the Emilian model, up to the early 1990s, may basically be said to have been based on this approach.” But it was replaced with “a new governance structure similar in many respects to the neo-corporatist systems of Northern Europe.” The result was “a market-driven industrial policy” which was a “sharp discontinuity” with the past (Rinaldi 2005: 256–58). As will be shown in subsequent chapters, the same pattern occurred in the development of the political, union, and cooperative movements in Ravenna’s agricultural sector. The interests of the landless working class were paramount until the late 1970s, but as their numbers declined, the cooperatives shifted toward supporting the interests of the small and medium-sized private farms. And now, I am told, the interest has shifted again toward consumers to the detriment of the farmers. The Communist Party’s previous governing style emphasized “consultation and compromise” with its Christian Democrat opposition. This cornerstone of the “Emilian Model” was replaced by an adversarial relation-

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ship between the Democratic Party of the Left and its new opposition, the “populist and neo-liberal forces such as Berlusconi’s party Forza Italia, the Northern League, and the post-fascist National Alliance.” There also came to be “frictions in the local society which were unknown in earlier periods . . . the economic success of the region brought an ever-growing presence of immigrants from foreign countries (especially from North Africa and East Europe) who often worked in dangerous jobs in building and foundries.” The fact that these exploited workers lived in “substandard conditions . . . added to social tensions and hindered their integration into the local community” (Rinaldi: 255). Apparently, bad government can happen anywhere, even in Bologna. A 2010 scandal had nothing to do with the former Communists or the “Red” cooperatives. Flavio Delbono, the mayor of Bologna and an economics professor at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies in Bologna, was forced to resign after a former staffer and mistress disclosed his despicable personal misuse of public funds (Bondi 2011). Such flaws notwithstanding, it is still highly unlikely that support from Moscow could explain the survival of the “Red” cooperatives for 130 years, the success (at least for a while) of municipal socialism, a more humane agriculture, a decentralized industrial economy, and a higher than average standard of living and quality of life. That the same result did not happen elsewhere does not reflect “cultural” defects. As Paul Ginsborg points out in his 2001 study Italy and Its Discontents: 1980–2001, “determinism . . . whatever its intellectual origins, should be treated with some suspicion.” He cites “poverty and degradation of many regions of the South, and the continuing existence in some of them of powerful and ferocious criminal organizations.” Add to this the “weakness of public administration . . . patron-client relations . . . widespread corruption . . . deep and unresolved conflicts” and you get “structural deficits” that are difficult to overcome (Ginsborg 2001b: xi). In a study of failed government attempts to incentivize cooperation among farmers in Southern Italy, Cesar Cesarini pointed out that the South had remained longer in feudalism. The laborers, according to Cesarini, did not have the “ideological fervor” of their counterparts in the North; the collectives in the North were “fundamentally democratic,” and, most importantly, the laborers in the North wanted to add days of work as wage laborers, while those in the South wanted access to pieces of land to add to those they already held (Cesarini 1979: 7). I contend that it was the development of a strong collective, cooperative, and political grassroots movement that encouraged a high degree of working-class and social consciousness (a genuine sort of “social capital”) in Emilia-Romagna. Just as the government planners for the Development Agency for the South (the Cassa per il Mezzogiorno) failed to instill a coop-

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erative spirit there, I doubt that the social associations Kertzer describes as being manipulated by elites in the North could explain the strength of the Communist Party, nor could they have steered the region toward responsive and comparatively progressive local and regional governments. In 1975, experts in the field of urban affairs named Bologna the best-run city in Italy and perhaps in all of Western Europe (Tuohy 1975). But many cities, including Bologna, are suffering from financial strain these days. Social welfare systems are financially strapped and under attack throughout the world. For the time being, the days of “municipal socialism” seem to be over. The real test of the “civic traditions,” whatever their origin, that Robert Putnam regarded as “uniformly powerful predictor[s] . . . of socioeconomic development” (Putnam, Leonardi, and Nanetti 1994: 156) will be their response to adversity. Will these traditions help to provide relief in the form of innovative new social cooperatives, especially in cities like Bologna? Vera Zamagni seems to think they could: The pioneering role [in social cooperatives] was played by Italy, where in 1963 the first “social cooperative” was founded, which provided training, education, assistance, recreation and work for disadvantaged, young, and elderly people. . . . In 2010, as much as 50 percent of the social services produced in Italy were by the social coops. (Zamagni 2012: 75)

According to Wilda Vanek, Italian social cooperatives began as philanthropic organizations based on a Christian desire to help those in need. She says that “the Italian cooperative movement, one of the strongest in Europe or in the world, was at first skeptical about the mutation of the traditional forms . . . [and] the [1980] law on social cooperatives was supported by the Catholic-backed network of cooperatives, but not by the Socialist-oriented League of Cooperatives” (Vanek 2001). Whether the strength of “social capital,” based on what Rinaldi called a “dominant Communist political subculture” (2005: 244), will even survive in Italian cities such as Bologna—let alone bring about a viable substitute for municipal socialism—is doubtful. Anti-immigrant young people and even union members have either forgotten or never learned the history of their own ancestors, who as immigrants worked and even died while reclaiming the malarial swamplands outside of Rome. The class-consciousness and solidarity of the Italians I knew in the 1970s from Italy’s Red Belt is no more. They would not have become bystanders of history. They remembered what it was like before social security was instituted in Italy, and told me, “We got tired of seeing grandmothers begging at the doors of the church every Sunday.” I could not imagine that they would ever let that happen again. But it will happen again, unless they can teach the history, as told in the following chapters, of their struggle over land tenure and power—a struggle

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that led to Romagna becoming a unique example of a strong and enduring cooperative movement, and therefore an inspiration for the world. Chapter 4, “Underneath All, the Land” is a jump back, way back, in time to investigate the changing relationship between a people, their rulers, and the land they depended on for survival. And chapter 5, “Land to Those Who Work Her,” explores the development of social movements to gain control of that land and pursue fairness in the modernizing economy. Both of these chapters are crucial components in this study of how the cooperative movement in Ravenna began, grew, and thrived despite constant challenges.

C H A PTER

4 U N D E R N E AT H A LL , T H E L A N D

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬ It was a simple story. In winter, when the snow reached from the high Apennine peaks to the Adriatic shore, the peasants dug the ditches of the woods and fields, stripped the trees for firewood, removed the lichens from the olives, trimmed the vines and repaired their carts. With the thaw in February, they manured and plowed their fields. Then spring came, and with it the pruning and planting of the vines, the planting of trees, the sowing of the March grain, the flax, beans, millet and hemp, and the digging of the kitchen gardens. In May and June they ploughed again, planted hawthorn hedges, clipped the sheep, mowed the meadows, hoed and reaped the corn, and formed the stooks in the fields. Then in high summer, under a heat relieved only by sudden thunderstorms, they cut the flax, brought the grain to the granary, hoed the vines, and cut the hemp. Lupins were sown that they might be ploughed into the field as fertilizer. With autumn, there was plowing again, and the digging out of the corn roots before plowing, there was the threshing of the corn ears on the granary floor, and the grape harvest. In October and November the fruit trees were stripped, the olives gathered, the honey taken from the hives. Then the cycle recommenced. (Larner 1965: 99–100)

H

istorian John Larner’s translation of archival records relates specifically to the thirteenth century, but it can be used to describe the setting and lives of the Romagnol peasant almost from 402 ad, when Romagna became the capital of the Western Roman Empire, to the beginning of the nineteenth century. The evolving relationship between land, people, and power is central to the cultural transformations that took place here. For the persistent tenant farmers, the struggle for security involved purchasing land at usuri-

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ous rates: 25 percent interest and four times the price speculators paid to those who hastened to sell fearing outright seizure (Porisini 1966: 230). For the braccianti, “security” was elusive. It became possible only when worker organizations developed the power to force landowners and municipalities to rent, sell, or allow worker participation in management of the land that they, with the sweat of their brows, had rendered productive. EMPERORS AND BARBARIANS (TO THE FALL OF THE WESTERN ROMAN EMPIRE IN 476 ad) The first archaeological evidence that Ravenna had become a permanent settlement dates to the Roman occupation in the late third century bc, during which time it “stood on the fringes of the Roman world, integrated culturally and politically into the Roman sphere of influence” (Deliyannis 2010: 23– 26). Ravenna’s hinterland provided food for the Roman naval base, and the Roman army patrolled the Romagnol lands. Perfectly perpendicular streets, still in existence today, were built up to the edges of the swamps. The ancient borders of Roman occupation can still be recognized from the air by the distinctive organization of fields and vine-covered trees (piantata) developed by the Gauls and expanded by the Romans (Sereni 1957: 27). As with other third- and fourth-century Italian cities, Ravenna was depopulated as a result of barbarian invasions and plagues and became “a city made up almost entirely of ruins” (Deliyannis 2010: 36–37). The Roman Empire was under the threat of repeated invasions, and the invaders, according to Emilio Sereni, were seen as liberators who were aided by slave and serf rebellions (1997: 47). Because of those threats, Emperor Honorius relocated the capital of the Western Roman Empire to Ravenna in 402 ad. (The Eastern Roman Empire’s capital was in Constantinople.) According to Deliyannis, “A new capital city that is intended to break away from . . . developed elite or bureaucratic institutions . . . is known to anthropologists as a disembedded capital . . . [and] they are very expensive because they have to be built from scratch on a grandiose scale.” Deliyannis points out that “most of the rulers who established themselves in Ravenna did so deliberately in order to counter the power of the Roman Senate and later of the popes.” Another interesting reason, in the light of subsequent landtenure developments in Ravenna, is that once the court moved to Ravenna, its bishops likewise rose in the hierarchy of the Italian church, eventually holding the rank of archbishop, ranking second after the pope and making periodic bids for autocephaly or independence from the papal see. In a society in which the authority of bishops rivaled, or even exceeded, that of secular rulers, Ravenna’s bishops and archbishops used the city’s topography and monuments

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to stake their own claims both alongside the secular rulers of the city and against the popes. (Deliyannis 2010: 2–3)

FOREIGN RULERS, POPES, AND FEUDAL LORDS (476 ad TO 1400 ad) The Roman Empire fell in 476 ad, and by 487 ad Ravenna became the center of the shift of power from Rome to the Ostrogoths, flowering in the prosperity and peace that ensued. A safe base, a refuge difficult to attack by land, and most importantly an Adriatic seaport, Ravenna was in its prime and considered “the capital of the world” (Larner 1965: 4). “Theodoric the Great” ruled for thirty-three years, and he was the first Germanic barbarian king to establish a civilized rule. He wisely allowed the Romans to continue administration and did not upset Church authority. However, Ravenna’s period of prosperity coincides with a time in which cities throughout the Roman world were undergoing dramatic transformations. The city of the Roman Empire had been a center of secular administration, with a dense urban fabric that included public amenities such as theaters and baths, aqueducts and sewers, elaborate Roman style houses for the elite, and evidence of long distance trade. By the year 600 many of those features had disappeared from Western Europe, replaced by towns centered on the church, with the bishop as the main authority figure . . . the “ruralization of the city” is a term often used. (Deliyannis 2010: 4)

In most Roman cities, it was not until the Imperial Period in the first century ad that Christianity replaced earlier religions (Larner 1965: 38). Forces from the north, led by kings who began to embrace Christianity, invaded and enslaved the Romagnol peasantry and gave large holdings of conquered lands in the Po Valley to the Church. The Church corruptly turned over communal lands to the aristocracy, who used them to build a feudal society with the Romagnol peasants as their work and military forces. The ecclesiastical owners took away common lands and took advantage of old services, but they did not assume the old duties (Vöchting 1926: 125). Thus began the centuries known as the Dark or Middle Ages, when the mercantile center of the ancient world lost contact with the sea and Germanic barbarians introduced feudalism as a new form of social organization. By the eleventh century, the chief landlords had become the cathedrals and churches of Ravenna. According to Larner, “Feudal lords, descendants perhaps of Byzantine, Langobard [Lombard], imperial, or archiepiscopal officials,” wrested land away from the churches by securing inheritance and renewal rights for long-term leases. Thus, “almost all lay landholding or jurisdiction in Romagna was based on some past usurpation of ecclesiastical

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right. . . the origin of the territorial power of the Romagnol nobility could be partly explained as the rise of powerful servants, taking over the property of a weak master” (Larner 1965: 17–18). Sociopolitical units at this time were of three types: the feudal village, the independent warring castles, and the small rural municipalities (comuni) formed of many hamlets loyal to a lord of the dominant town. In the absence of inheritance based on primogeniture, in which property would pass undivided to the eldest son, feudal properties in Romagna were subject to extreme fragmentation. This caused murderous plots over inheritance, and these continuous blood feuds were dangerous to life and limb for peasants who were always running away and who, especially in Romagna, often murdered their own lord and his entire family. Advice given to nobles by a veteran feudal lord was to “stay away from Romagna or fortify the place with streams, ditches, dykes, hedges, palisades, and a watchtower, where the head of the household and his servants may take refuge with their property when there is need [or] you will have to prepare yourself for death” (Larner 1965: 99). Land values fell because of plagues, perpetual feuds, and aristocratic violence among the five dominant families who were jockeying for power. This led to competition to acquire even more land from the Church. An enormous leasehold was acquired for twenty-nine years at only one penny per year. The results of the conflicts were devastating. Destruction of crops and fields was just as important as defeating one’s enemies’ soldiers. Larner quotes from an eyewitness description of the situation in 1248, which bears repeating in full: After this long and heavy war, the peasants could neither sow nor thresh, plough, nor plant the vines nor harvest the grapes, nor dwell in their villages. They worked instead near the towns, defended by the town militia, who distributed themselves according to the gates of the town. And all day, armed soldiers guarded those who worked in the fields. And it was necessary to do this because of the murderers, thieves, and robbers who had multiplied out of all measure. And they took men prisoner to gain their ransoms, and they stole and ate their cattle. And if the prisoners would not pay, they hung them up by the feet or hands and pulled out their teeth, and to force them to pay, put toads in their mouths, and this of all forms of torture was most cruel and detested. And they were crueler than demons. And in those days, seeing a stranger on the road was like seeing the devil, for each thought that the other would seek to capture and imprison him. And the territory was reduced to a desert; there were no farmers there, nor travellers, for in the age of Frederick, especially after he was deposed from the Empire, and Parma had rebelled and struck out against him, the principal roads were deserted, and travellers went by secret paths, and ills multiplied upon the land. And birds and beasts—ravens and wild boars and wolves—were overplentiful. The wolves, not finding their prey in sheep and cattle near the villages now ravaged by fire, came in packs, howling for hunger up to the moat of the towns, and even entered them, tear-

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ing to pieces the men who slept under the porticos and on the wains. Sometimes they made a hole through the walls of a house and seized the children in the cradle. None could believe it, unless they had seen, as I saw then, the vile things that were done by men and beasts. (Larner 1965: 29–30)

The municipalities had simple structures, and at this time they controlled all exports, primarily salt, wine, and foodstuffs. Corn was essentially a municipal monopoly, and prices were controlled to insure against famine. If any landowning family wanted to negotiate individually, they could only do it if they moved away from their countryside estate to become lords of the municipalities. Once in power, they could sell their corn where they wanted and hold back for higher prices, even during famines. According to Larner, “Had the comunes of this era preserved their simple structures, and had their territorial boundaries remained unchanged, it is feasible to imagine circumstances where the popolo [people], through their numerical strength could have triumphed over the town nobility and secured a democratic government” (Larner 1965: 11–12). But their fate was sealed when the town boundaries were expanded in an attempt to subdue violence caused by the feudal lords. The military and social power of the nobility was enough to usurp the governing bodies of the municipalities and institute a pattern of “signorial rule,” in which dynasties of privileged families exerted control of local communities. Dante Alighieri’s tomb is located in Ravenna, and his Divine Comedy described the breakdown of an ostensibly glorious ancient society into armed factions. According to Larner, “Any full understanding of the great poem of the medieval world requires a knowledge of the history of the Romagna, for to Dante it was this province, before all others, which was the home of the tyrants” (Larner 1965: 12). Niccolò Machiavelli, according to Larner, placed his finger “with unerring judgment” on the “gentlemen” who live on rents as the defect in communal society. This is why Machiavelli said, “When society is so corrupt that law does not suffice to enchain it, a royal hand is needed, that with absolute and excessive power, may check the excessive ambition and corruption of powerful men.” He also said, “Corruption and incapacity to maintain free institutions result from a great inequality that exists in such a state” (Roesche 1966: 142). Machiavelli scholar John Pocock also emphasized Machiavelli’s linkage of corruption to inequality (1975: 204–11). Far from providing merely a “handbook for gangsters” (Poggioli 2013), Machiavelli offers the possibility for the people to act virtuously under conditions of necessity. “We furthermore see,” he said, “the cities where the people are masters make the greatest progress in the least possible time, and much greater than such as have always been governed by princes” (Machiavelli 1532). Although his purpose

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in writing is still debatable, it is interesting that Machiavelli wrote The Prince while imprisoned. He lived under conditions such as those described in medieval Ravenna. Although Romagna had been given to the papacy in the eighth century, it had been administered de facto as a part of late Carolingian/early Holy Roman Empire since the tenth century. In 1275, Romagna and Bologna were transferred back to direct papal administration. “The Empire had abandoned a territory that it could not own; the papacy had accepted a possession that it was to find difficult to hold.” The aims of the papacy to establish peace and order, end feuds, and forbid reprisals, theft, murder, and blasphemy might have seemed “innocuous enough,” but the control over the export of food without license led to a situation where “every command was met with resistance, every resistance met with harsh papal reaction.” Larner says that the venality of the papal government in selling lands to family members and acting as tyrants was “repugnant . . . the popes required money, the raising of money excited resistance, the resistance brought forth the need for more and yet more money to crush it: hence further revolt” (1965: 40–43, 107). By the end of the thirteenth century there were several coexisting types of peasant tenure in Romagna: virtually enslaved serfs on feudal estates, who were obliged to provide food and military service to the lord and abide by the laws laid down by him; tenant farmers called mezzadri, who were half free and half enslaved by virtue of a contract with the landlord; landless day laborers who did seasonal work; and, interestingly enough, relatively free peasants who held long-term leases to land. During the thirteenth century, serfs who fled their farms had to be returned, but by 1327 the swearing of fidelity with full military obligations and implications began to be eliminated in Ravenna’s statutes (ibid.: 107). LANDLORDS AND TENANTS (1400 ad TO 1861 ad) As the grip on the serfs was weakening in the fourteenth century, it was also being tightened upon peasants who held long leases for “three lifetimes.” Those property owners who had previously leased land to peasants sought to convert all land to tenant farming, where they would have more control over agricultural production and a larger share of the product (Larner 1965: 102). From the fourteenth century to the beginning of the nineteenth, all evidence points to tenant farming as the most widespread type of tenure. Feudal serfs, land-leasing peasants, and agricultural day laborers all apparently entered the ranks of the mezzadri. The tenant families were large, and extra hired labor was not required until agriculture became more intensive in the second half of the nineteenth century.

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Countess Maria Pasolini was a large landowner and something of a humanitarian. Her reporting on the history and conditions of the workers in the countryside is an invaluable primary source documenting local history and the changes that were occurring (Pasolini 1892: 311–43, 411–27; and 1890: 245–77). The countess corresponded with Vilfredo Pareto, who used the countess’s economic data on the tenant farmers and workers in the development of his theories of the elite and the inevitability of land being owned in all countries in all times by 20 percent of the population. Tenant farming was, and still is, regarded by some landlords to be an ideal relationship between capital and labor. As they see it, the tenant farmer is a small “entrepreneur” who is a partner to the owner because “it is the only labor contract that permits those who earn the income to dedicate a conspicuous part not only to consumer goods but to productive goods: to investments in other words” (Brocchi 1964: 25). But the amount and quality of land differed among tenant families. Some plots were of such poor quality that the tenants would steal away in the middle of the night, carrying whatever little there was to show from hundreds of years of labor. The majority who stayed would have to beg on hands and knees to have contracts renewed. Protected by a customary tie to the land, a moral obligation on the part of the padrone to help them in adversity and provide loans for advances when needed, and consuming most their share in kind, tenants were isolated from the fluctuations of the market and the external world in general. For centuries, traditions and superstitions remained intact. The Romagnol peasant lived closed within his rural world, at one end of which was the padrone and at the other, the Church. It is safe to say that the rural population was probably unaware that the Italian Renaissance had begun at the beginning of the fourteenth century. Niccolò Machiavelli, in the twenty-sixth and final chapter of The Prince, wrote that this was a time when Italians were “more enslaved than the Hebrews, more oppressed than the Persians, more scattered than the Athenians; without head, without order, beaten, despoiled, torn . . . [and] overrun” (Machiavelli 1532: ch. 26). Both the Renaissance and the Risorgimento (beginning much later, in 1815) were born out of the desire on the part of elites for a revival and a return of Italy, after the Middle Ages, back to its illustrious Greco-Roman and Roman roots. Renaissance progress was in the cultural realm of art, philosophy, and science, while the Risorgimento was a political movement. There was little focus in either of these movements on economic betterment for the Italian people. Originally unwritten, the tenant farm contracts were renewable annually and sometimes lasted hundreds of years. They differed from province to province according to local tradition and statutes. In its pure form, the contract required half of all working capital to be provided by the tenant farmer

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for animals, seed, and fertilizers. It was the tenant’s responsibility to contribute the necessary tools and all labor, including outside labor if needed, and any new tools that might be needed as agricultural techniques changed. The owner, in turn, provided the tenant with a house, a barn, and approximately ten hectares of land. Landlords, who were not entrepreneurs by any stretch of the imagination, dictated the types of crops that would be grown—those requiring the most labor with the least investment and the largest product (Landi 1971). However economically “irrational” the mezzadria contract was, peasant family life was a very businesslike matter. Families were rigidly organized on a patriarchal basis. The father, called the azdor (businessman), ruled the family with an iron hand and made all decisions, important and unimportant alike, even after he may have become a bit senile. The mother, the azdora, took care of the house and chickens. The favorite son, usually the eldest, worked in the barn taking care of the cows, and the rest of the family worked in the fields. Agricultural production was diversified enough that the tenant family was kept busy most of the year (Porisini 1966: 156). Since nobody was paid a wage on the basis of labor contributed (Vöchting, 1926: 156), some sons were favored according to the whim of the father and given more money to spend than their siblings. Postmarital residence was in the house of the groom’s parents, and each wife cared for her own children and her own room of the farmhouse in addition to her allotment of work in the fields. The houses were dreary, crowded with people and animals. The ground floor was made of dirt, and furnishings were sparse and crude. The diet, consisting mainly of grain and corn with meat only on Sundays, was inadequate. The younger members of the tenant family, who shared one set of presentable clothes, took turns going to town on Sundays. It was during the reign of Pope Clemente VII in 1531 that the first sporadic attempts at land reclamation in the lagoons of the swampy (larga) zone on the low plain were initiated. While repeated flooding of local rivers wreaked havoc on agriculture, damaging trees and vines, destroying harvests and decreasing the fertility of the soil, the earliest reclamation works were done more as a public health measure against malaria than for agricultural purposes. As more land was wrested from the Adriatic, some members of tenant families were sent out daily to work small pieces of the large tracts of land in the larga under the system of a partitanza. Like modern sharecropping (compartecipazione), the a partitanza sharecropper arrangement was intermediate between the tenant farming system and wage labor, in that the relationship between owner and worker was not continuous or bound by tradition. The worker still received a share of the product instead of a wage: depending on the crop, it could be a half, a third (terzeria), or a fourth (quarteria) of the harvest. Owners were not required to provide houses, because

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the tenant farmers lived in the appoderata (farm) zone and went home each night. Unlike the rest of Italy, in which the remnants of feudalism left the land divided into family-sized units surrounding the old castles of the city-states, the new lands of the low plain were distinctive for their lack of divisions and for the large size of swamp and forest holdings, which passed back and forth from nobles to church to conquerors. Used primarily for hunting and fishing by the aristocracy and secondarily for gathering cane and firewood by the peasants, wasteland traditionally belonged to the municipality and was used communally for the grazing of cows and oxen. But the monasteries of Ravenna initiated the practice of giving leases of fishing and hunting rights in the marshland of the Po basin to nobles (Larner 1965: 123–24). Eventually this led to the enclosure of a substantial part of the communal lands. The marshland had been important to the livelihood of the local peasants, who fished there and had cottage industries using cane and other resources. According to census data available for the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, communal land passed from 50 percent of the entire county of Ravenna to less than 4 percent in 1835 (Nardi 1972: 15–16). One striking example of this is the case in which the papal state dispensed title to a large part of the coastal pine forest and swampland at the mouth of the Lamone River (there were no boundaries) to one Baron Belluzzi-Pergami, who failed to live up to his promise to reclaim the land, construct farmhouses, insert tenant families, and put in better crops in a sort of social mission to help the landless peasants (Bertondini 1966: 282). Friedrich Vöchting’s Die Romagna: Eine Studie uber Halpacht und Landarbeiterwesen in Italien (Romagna’s Agricultural Workers and Farmers) is an important source regarding the social and economic history of agriculture in Romagna. His dissertation and book were based on an exhaustive study of tenant farm contracts, day labor wages, laws, government labor offices, cooperatives, agrarian associations of landowners, political parties, private and public inquests and statistics, newspaper articles, essays, and interviews. The result was a meticulous history of the agricultural and socioeconomic history of Romagna. It was written in 1926, published in German in 1927, but not translated into Italian until 2000. Vöchting was a Swiss student of German sociologist Robert Michels, a Mussolini supporter and Fascist Party theoretician who wrote about the impossibility of participatory democracy and was known for his theory of the “Iron Law of Oligarchy,” which maintains that elites will always rule (Sluyter-Beltrão 2016). Vöchting was at least sympathetic to the plight of the workers. He travelled to the United States and was influenced by the Nonpartisan League, an agrarian populist/socialist movement originating in North Dakota. Angered by exploitation by out-of-state companies, it advocated state ownership of

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banks, mills, grain elevators, and other farm-related industries. Today, the Bank of North Dakota is the only state-owned bank in the United States. Although Vöchting said that Italian Fascism was still in an experimental phase, he saw it as a potential solution to the problem of exploitation by the bourgeoisie on the one hand and excessive demands of the workers on the other. Ideologically, he favored the small family farm, but acknowledged that the large farm with unitary management was the only form capable of introducing needed innovations. The state, he said, was the only organization with the capacity to complete large land-reclamation projects (Vöchting 1926: 119, 59). In looking at the mezzadria contracts, Vöchting says, “If there was any warmth, it is not apparent in the contracts.” The contracts were written with “vulgar language and a paternalistic tone” that showed the distance between property and labor. The life of the tenant farmer was valued at a lower level. His entire family had to provide gifts and personal service in exchange for the right to raise chickens. They could not have friends over for a drink, they had to get permission to be married, and they had to perform corvée labor. If they did not show up before dawn for the corvée work parties, they would be sent home. The padrone could have labor performed and charge the tenant for it. They had to do laundry and even carry the padrone to the theater on a sedan chair. Any violation could result in expelling the family, which usually was not done. Even removing dead trees could carry a monetary penalty. The arrangement was essentially unchanging since time immemorial, or at least from the old papal system (Vöchting 1926: 160–61). These deplorable conditions were tolerated until the union movement began. Vöchting says that by 1901–2, “even if the new contracts . . . seem oppressive by our [1927] standards, the putrid submission that stagnated since the Middle Ages, apart from some remnants, disappeared.” The landlord’s rights to management were limited, new ditches were his responsibility, and the “clearest change” was in the concept of arbitration. The contracts still prohibited gambling parties, and the tenant still had to inform the padrone about changes to the family. Vöchting described the Romagnol tenant farmer in the 1800s as “a poor shoeless devil, dressed in rags, living with a large family in a cluttered, miserable hovel, a life sentence to work from morning to night, from birth to death . . . a permanent state of dependence that verges on slavery . . . who has to perform servile obligations without pay” (ibid: 164–65, 123–24). Ravenna’s landed nobility gradually began to be replaced by a more entrepreneurial bourgeoisie financed by French capital after 1830. There being no new provisions in the tenant farm contract, which had remained unchanged since 1590, peasants went uncompensated for the increase in expenses and labor they had to contribute as agricultural practices were intensified. Soon

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they would have to begin paying for extra labor out of their share of the product as well. According to Frank Snowden, the use of a bookkeeping system of annual estimates (stime) enabled landlords to cheat tenants out of their share. This led the peasants, for the first time, to realize that their position was “the product of human agency” instead of the weather. As a result, “an important prop of the social order had been removed,” and a “collective consciousness” emerged that was “not religious but political” (Snowden 2014: 149, 171–73). During the first twenty years of the nineteenth century, some of these newly class-conscious tenant farmers abandoned farms and came to the urban centers. This exodus became a mass phenomenon at the end of the century, when continued decrease in mortality rates and changes in agricultural techniques caused the disintegration of tenant farm families. Owing to the increment in fodder produced on the new lands of the larga, which enabled the maintenance of more animals, the nineteenth century brought a slight increase in the productivity of agriculture in the appoderata. Production of grain was still low by modern standards, “but it was enough to sustain a wealthy aristocracy who lived in expensive palaces” (Porisini 1966: 183). Vöchting quoted the fascist government’s agricultural expert Arrigo Serpieri that it was hard to take lightly an agricultural system that was so productive in comparison with other regions. He noted, however, that many writers at the time saw tenant farming as “paralyzing progress with an antiquated absurd economics based on exploitation of manpower” (Vöchting 1926: 175, 150). On closer evaluation, Vöchting decided that the problem was not with the tenant system per se but with the small farm in general. Nineteenth-century economists, he said, agreed with Karl Marx that the model of large mechanized farms with a more rational unified direction was destined to conquer the countryside. This was due to the efficiency of the large farm with replacement of labor by machines and the human labor being done in squads under control. But he goes on to say that just because the large farms elsewhere are successful, economists assume “unlimited validity to this solution.” This “hides the bonds between agriculture and nature, climate, plant, animal and human attachment to the land and the effect on labor.” Vöchting concluded that in all situations of diversified production—fruit, animals, and vegetables—where diligence and participation is needed, the small farm is the most efficient. He would have liked to see tenant farmers band together to collectively sharecrop large farms in the recently reclaimed zone as a step toward private ownership of individual family farms (Vöchting 1926: 151, 116). The beginning of tremendous changes in the countryside occurred on December 14, 1839, when the Lamone River burst over its banks, leaving crops ruined and covered with a thick layer of silt. A young engineer by the name

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of Filippo Lanciani (who was also instrumental in the restoration of historic structures in Ravenna [Deliyannis 2010: 9]), envisioned the reclamation of the swamplands at the mouth of the Lamone River, which at that time had no outlet in the Adriatic Sea. Unlike the famous draining of the Fens in England, in which the removal of water caused the land to sink (Darby 1956: 104), Lanciani’s plan imitated the natural raising of the level of the land by systematically directing the flow of the soil-laden rivers from one block of land to the next, a procedure he called a colmata—that is, land reclamation by the building up of “small hills.” To offset the expense of doing this, Lanciani proposed that wet rice be grown as a transitional crop, and after ten to fifteen years of this, the level of the land would be raised sufficiently for dry farming. The grandiose scheme of engineer Lanciani came to fruition, financed largely by the local papal government. The prospect of jobs brought the poor and dispossessed down out of the hills from the failing tenant farms and out of the cracks of the meager and depressed Romagnol economy, massing them into huge armies of men and wheelbarrows, straining and sweating to build a new land and simultaneously building a new class of lowly and exploited workers. Up until the period of the Lanciani reclamation, the few existing braccianti had been ex-tenant farmers who as a result of debts had been thrown off the farms on which they worked with their families. With the initiation of the reclamation works and rice cultivation, a worker would sometimes choose to leave the tenant farmer way of life to free himself from the double control of his father and the owner of the farm. It was generally the younger, more rebellious and individualistic tenant farmers who chose the independent, although more precarious, existence as braccianti. The braccianti, the farm workers who “work with their arms,” entered the stage of Romagnol history as a force to be reckoned with as a direct product of the dreams of Lanciani. Nullo Baldini, founder of the first labor cooperative, declared, Of course you ought to erect a monument, but not to me. To whom then? To the Lamone, the beneficent Lamone. (Baldini 1945)

ENTREPRENEURS AND PROLETARIANS (FOLLOWING THE 1861 UNIFICATION OF ITALY ) The real transformation of agriculture from the barely self-sufficient, semifeudalistic system did not occur until after the Unification of Italy in 1861– 71, when agriculture was called upon to sustain the financial burden of the new state. With the new red, white, and green Italian flag, a new kind of

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agriculture came into being. Until then, Italy had been a conglomeration of many small states, lacking communication and markets. Unification of Italy eliminated tariffs between the ex-states and stimulated trade. The new Italian state accelerated the reclamation works begun by the Church and landowning nobles who began to find themselves short of capital. Land in the larga was then rented to entrepreneurs (affituari or “renters”) for the purpose of reclamation and rice cultivation. Owing to the richness of the delta soil, reclamation works in Ravenna were never simply “make work” schemes. They were at least as important economically as the government development of the methane resources discovered in 1953. Land reclamation quickly paid for itself many times over. According to Dario Guzzini (an able researcher and one of the first agricultural technicians of the Federation of Cooperatives), the return on capital invested in these early ventures reached as high as 45 percent (1924: 24). Landowners, who benefitted from the public funds that paid for 50 percent of the reclamation (Vöchting 1926: 56–57), prolonged growing wet rice before 1880 but after that did not replace it with another labor-intensive crop. The profitability of wet rice production averaged 10–12 percent return on capital invested during the period of reclamation. It brought employment for the growing agricultural proletariat, but they were badly paid, and the police and army were brought in at harvest time to quell disturbances. Employment in rice cultivation was short-lived for several reasons. In the first place, rice was only a transitional crop to be grown during the reclamation process. Secondly, the brusone (Vöchting 1926: 98), an insidious soil-borne fungus disease, destroyed 70 percent of the crop four out of every ten years. Labor unrest, combined with changes in the conditions of the rivers and a decrease in the market value of rice, eventually caused entrepreneurs to reduce rice to a minimum in order to grow forage. For several years the cultivation of wet rice provided two-thirds of the yearly employment for the braccianti class, with 70–75 percent of this work being done by women. But because of male supremacy, the primary reputation of the braccianti was as land movers and not cultivators. Although Countess Pasolini noted that there were female scariolanti (wheelbarrowers), and a local museum has photographs of women also doing this work, it was considered a man’s job. With mattock and a week’s supply of food in their wheelbarrows, the wheelbarrowers set out to reshape the banks of rivers. These desperate and determined people huddled at night in makeshift lean-to grass shelters, on the edge of swamps swarming with malarial mosquitoes. Organized on the basis of physical affinity in squads of ten each, they pushed heavy dirt-filled wheelbarrows at top speed for six hours a day, for which they received two lire, good for one kilogram of lamb. The strength of these squads of “pieceworkers” is legendary in Ravenna. Guzzini observed

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“workers . . . [who] tried to keep up with each other even to the point of surpassing their capacity” (Guzzini 1924: 42). For this reason, unions were opposed to piecework (figure 4.1). No description of Ravenna or of the braccianti is complete if it omits mention of “Gli Scariolanti,” the wheelbarrower’s song ( Jona and Liberovici 1965: 383–91). Sung in various forms in different localities, new verses were always added to the old melody. It is one of the few Italian folk songs not in dialect, a reflection of the diverse places of origin of the Romagnol braccianti. The people sang as they worked, loading and dumping tons of damp earth, as many as four to five thousand of them working on a single job. Many verses express amorous intentions, political sentiments, feelings about traveling great distances to reclaim swamplands in the Agro Pontino swamps near Rome, repairing earthquake damage in Sicily, building railroads abroad, and even feelings about going to war. In addition to work as wheelbarrowers, the men also helped during peak periods on the tenant farms during harvest time. To those who failed to get work on these farms, history has it that whoever didn’t look strong enough to the eye of the azdor [“businessman”/patriarchal head of the tenant family] had a hard time opening the door of his house and telling his family that he didn’t succeed in selling himself that day. But, even for the more fortunate, the harvest didn’t last forever. It was true that they didn’t have to pay

FIGURE 4.1. Wheelbarrowers at work, circa 1900 Photo courtesy of the Federation of Cooperatives

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for their own food and were allowed to sit at the table with the family, but they had to be ever so careful in working hard to make nice looking bundles even if the wheat was bad so they would be hired again the next year. (Bolognesi 1965: 221)

Because rice was such a profitable crop, attempts by landowners to expand its production had far-reaching effects. Pressure was put on tenant farmers in the appoderata to finance the expenses incurred by landlords in the developing larga, causing the proletarianization of the poorest families. According to Emilio Sereni, in Il capitalismo nelle campagne (Capitalism in the Countryside), it was the disintegration of the tenant families and not the birth rate that accounted for the large increases in the class of braccianti (Sereni 1968: 341). When a family could no longer feed itself on its assigned farm, it separated to become tenants elsewhere or to become braccianti, a condition that was always accepted as the worst fortune even when there was no worry of lack of work (Porisini 1966: 171). Augusto Bolognesi, in “Stories from the Low Plain,” says that “for whoever failed as a tenant farmer, there was nothing left except to become a day laborer, the last spoke of the wheel” (1965: 221). According to Vöchting, it was the immigrants attracted into Romagna by the land-reclamation projects and the delayed development of Italian industry that were the reasons for the failure of the economy to absorb its native sons. Unlike the Italian South, which Vöchting later would say was racially contaminated (Vöchting 1955), the birth rate in Romagna was not to blame for the increase in the underemployed, nor was laziness a factor (the braccianti were strong, good workers). The reclamation projects that were demanded due to labor unrest were at best a temporary palliative. At worst they prevented the out-migration that should have occurred. “The Romagnol economy,” he said, “was thus habituated to the dangerous medicine of public works—any attempt to reduce them provoked a reaction . . . [which] contributed to the lack of employment because public works attracted labor from outside and prevented local labor from emigrating.” His conclusion was that overpopulation in Romagna was not due to demographics but to the “relations of production.” Italian capital went into industry and commerce instead of agriculture, the small bourgeoisie were a “brake on progress,” and the large landowners preferred a smaller secure income instead of taking risks. As for the tenant and small-farm families, they had to deal with the “inevitable tragedy of the family cycle” and also the knowledge that every innovation was going to have an effect on manpower that could upset the equilibrium of the family farm. This, he said, explains their tendency to resist modernization (Vöchting 1926: 207, 87, 126, 154). In 1879, a governmental inquest on agriculture sponsored by Senator Stefano Jacini led to the publication of a monograph by Guglielmo Barbieri on

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conditions in Ravenna, where the people were illiterate and suffered from tuberculosis, rickets, and pellagra due to dietary deficiencies. According to Barbieri, the new braccianti class, which was practically unknown before 1850, by 1879 had climbed to 17,743 men, women, and children, one-tenth of the total population of the municipality of Ravenna. Of that number, 9,689 were classified as workers in the census of 1881 (Bertondini 1966: 354). They worked by the day and were paid a fixed salary, by piecework, or by a system of sharecropping that was either individual or familial, in which they provided labor from sowing to harvest for a single crop on a certain parcel of land, bearing part of the expenses and receiving compensation in the form of a pre-established share of the product (Nardi 1957: 277). Agriculture in Ravenna reached an apex in 1878. Land reclamation, an increase in the price of rice, a decrease in taxes, a decrease in the interest rate on capital, and a doubling of the production of grain were all factors encouraging investment in agriculture. Still, the land of the larga had no streets or houses, and there were no large estates with fixed employees yet. Braccianti settlements sprang up along the edges of the swampland, forming the towns of San Alberto, Mezzano, Santerno, San Bartolo, San Stefano, Campiano, and others. Braccianti rose in the dead of night and traveled up to twenty miles, on foot or by bicycle, to arrive at the borders of rice fields or reclamation works by dawn. At first, bicycles were a luxury introduced in the town of Voltana in 1890 at a cost of fifteen to sixteen days of labor (Billi 2002: 93). Mezzano was one of the settlements that arose on the outskirts of Ravenna in the larga zone. It had no market economy at the end of the eighteenth century, but by 1849 the traditional economic structure of the village had already profoundly changed; of the 581 families, 107 were artisans, shopkeepers and salaried workers and 102 were braccianti . . . by 1893 there were 847 families, 467 of which were braccianti, who were the first to develop political and entertainment organizations. By 1867 they had founded a mutual aid society and in the last decade of the 19th Century they had built a circolo popolare (a “people’s gathering place”) adhering to the Socialist Party. . . . Mezzano in those years was very poor. Its streets in summer were dusty and in winter full of mud and puddles, filled with manure and human waste . . . the Socialist newspaper warned of cholera and advanced the idea of incorporating into a city to improve public administration. (Ravaioli and Casadio 1997: 47–48)

Braccianti worked an average of 189 days per year in the county of Ravenna in 1879, which is more than they ever have since then (Guzzini 1924: 51). Presenting themselves in the town square each morning or receiving work through the medium of exploitative labor contractors, braccianti were never connected to any one farm, although employers freely utilized their labor even on holidays. They supplemented their income with cottage industries: making things out of straw and cane; gleaning fields after harvests; and pro-

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ducing silk from silk worms (which gave them the equivalent of thirty-five days of work). They received charity from the monks and sent children out to beg for change. They also grew gardens and kept chickens and pigs. When a pig would have to be slaughtered to pay for rent, people cried (Vöchting 1926: 211–16). None of this was enough, and they undoubtedly had no idea that this was a period of agricultural prosperity. Senator Stefano Jacini himself lamented, “Grave is the state of the workers, even though the lands they work are the most productive of Europe.” He found it unsettling that precisely in those areas with the most rapidly progressing systems of agriculture, problems of seasonal unemployment and bad living conditions were most severe. He noted that braccianti men spent a substantial portion of the family income on drink and gave a grim description of braccianti life: The habitations are nothing more than huts with mud walls covered with grass . . . the interior is an impressionable squalor . . . a dead winter of unemployment . . . an insufficient diet based on corn causing the dreadful disease pellagra . . . and other diseases such as malaria and anemia connected with their state of misery. (Preti 1955: 34, 55–58)

As a result of Barbieri’s observations and the research conducted for the senator’s inquest during this period of transition from pre-capitalist to capitalist forms of agriculture, Barbieri was of the opinion that no progress was being made. Instead of crediting the entrepreneurs with awakening a backward system that had been static for centuries, he accused them of trying to get whatever they could out of the land and having no scruples about their treatment of agricultural labor (Bertondini 1966: 279). Despite all the faults of the semi-feudal tenant system, Barbieri believed it to have advantages over the more modern capitalistic system. Vöchting said that it was impossible not to see the picture “handed down by the economists” of the farms of the 1800s, and he reported that one mayor prohibited conducting surveys in his town “because with such misery it is better to not uncover it” (1926: 217). Italy in fact had by far the highest emigration rate of any European country, 164 per 10,000 inhabitants as compared to thirty in Portugal, thirty-two in Germany, and thirty in Spain, amounting to a diaspora over nine decades of 28 million people (Gabbaccia 2000) from 1876 to 1970 (Larner et al. 2018). The only positive thing Senator Jacini found to say about the braccianti in 1880 was that, living together in town instead of isolated on family farms, braccianti were less fatalistic and submissive than the tenants, paid less attention to the priests, and sought whenever possible to send their children to school rather than make them work (Preti 1955: 59). Braccianti women also did less housework than women on the tenant farms. It was a period of massive social change, in which old ways of living and producing were upset, and this ushered in a wave of social banditry and violence in the rural areas

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(Bertondini 1966: 301). Conditions were especially dismal in Ravenna’s larga. Emilio Sereni writes that the swamps of the lowlands of Romagna impressed their character upon the whole region and its people—rustic bridges and lonely crossroads, banks barely accentuated above the level of the water. There grew a miserable population, hardened to exhaustion and danger in a loneliness that exasperated them into extreme individualism that made their passions more wild and violent, fed by injustices and social inequalities. It is the classic land of ambushes and bloody vendettas; every bank, every bridge, every crossroad is still today linked by popular tradition to a bloody memory. (1968: 189)

The economic position of the tenant farmers advanced somewhat in the period of agricultural prosperity following the unification of Italy. The unloading of extra “arms” in the growing class of braccianti left fewer mouths to feed. Barbieri noted that by 1880 the tenant farmers for the first time were able to save enough money to buy salt and oil, and to pay taxes. That prosperity was short-lived, and the exodus of young tenant farmers became a mass phenomenon after 1880. At the peak of the transition from tenant to braccianti, the exodus was no longer the result of the pull of the reclamation works and rice plantations; it was the increase from push to shove on the tenant farms. A deep agricultural crisis beginning in 1882 intensified the process of reorganizing agriculture in a capitalist fashion. The twenty-year boom period following the unification of Italy was over. Countess Pasolini described what happened as follows: In 1882 a notable reduction of prices began. Owners were constricted to suspend works to improve farms that were not already developed, to diminish the cultivation of hemp, and many found it more advantageous to completely get rid of the tenants. . . . In these cases tenants were replaced with salaried workers and more tenant families went to increase the class of braccianti. In other words after 1882 with the fall of prices, the practice was to invest less wherever possible and to return to less intensive cultivation, reduce the land moving jobs, thus worsening the conditions of the braccianti while at the same time increasing their numbers by expelling the tenants. (1890: 248)

A Socialist newspaper in 1884 said, Owners, to get more out of the land than they got from the tenants, rented the land; the renters, in turn, to increase their profit and because the grain they would produce cannot compete with the grain of America, have abandoned the cultivation of cereals and put their fields to grass. That sort of crop requires much less manpower; the renter spends less and earns more; and that which he spends less is subtracted from the daily bread of the workers. (Berselli 1966: 14)

The agricultural crisis of 1882 had several far-reaching effects. The elimination of rice as a crop and the cessation of public works were the most no-

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table, but another immediate effect of the agricultural crisis, as explained by Countess Pasolini, was the end to the construction of new tenant farm units on the new lands. Braccianti had been employed to build houses, barns, and streets; level land; and dig drainage ditches for the establishment of new tenant farms on the first five thousand of the fourteen thousand hectares of land reclaimed from 1835 to 1910, but after 1900 no new land was turned over to tenant families. The new lands that were no longer being assigned to the tenants were made into a new type of capitalist farm called the boaria (cattle ranch), in which the existing production of grain and corn was modified by the introduction of fodder and sugar beet crops (Guzzini 1924: 21). Shortly, the introduction of tractors and threshing machines at the turn of the century would transform the larga, once the site of swarming human activity, into “factories in the fields” staffed by an ever-decreasing number of workers. Productivity of the new system, due to increased use of chemical fertilizers, the new machines, and a so-called more “rational” use of labor, made the boaria farms the epitome of progress in Ravenna. The boaria farms, large by Ravenna’s standards with one to three hundred hectares of land, were the first modern farms in the province. The boaro (cattle handler) would get a house, could use all machines and animals, and could raise chickens and have a vegetable garden for his family. They would be paid a wage, receive a share of the product, and were held responsible for the farm. Even if their lives were mediocre and they ate mostly polenta, beans, and vegetable soup, they enjoyed “an aura of . . . privilege . . . and formed a category of workers devoted to the padrone” (Vöchting 1926: 178–79). Following the unification of Italy, the capitalist farms that were developing in the larga concentrated on crops requiring fewer and fewer “arms.” According to Anthony Cardoza, influential agriculturalists in the Po Valley developed consortia and banks after 1880 and used their financial resources to modernize agriculture and invest profits in the development of industry. Cardoza also says that the organization of labor was a stimulus to modernization in the Po Valley, quoting one agriculturalist as saying that “two years of strikes have been more valuable than twenty years of technical propaganda . . . for the spread of agricultural machinery” (Cardoza 2014: 179). Meanwhile, a different pattern developed in the appoderata zone, where tenant families were called upon to contribute ever-increasing quantities of labor (Armuzzi, Bonfiglioli, and Renzi 1966: 23). One case of a single farm of twenty hectares worked by the same family from 1860 to 1920 illustrates the development occurring in the appoderata. In 1860 there were six members of the family who worked, and there were twelve heads of cattle. There were 1,551 days of labor put into those twenty hectares by six working members of the family. After expenses, the family earned 3,017 lire, or 1.95 lire per

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day of work. Then, by 1910, the number of workers increased to ten, there were twenty heads of cattle, and the family earned 5,839 lire. But the days of work increased by 82 percent to 2,825, with each of the ten workers putting in 283 days instead of 259, which amounted to 2.07 lire per day of work, a 6 percent increase. The owner’s share increased from 3,017 lire to 5,839 lire after expenses (Landi 1971: 14–16). The result of agricultural “progress” was a 94 percent increase in profits for the owner, an 82 percent increase labor for the tenant family, and a mere 6 percent increase in the remuneration per day of work. It should surprise no one that unrest in the countryside was endemic in the decades leading up to and following Italian Unification. The new Italian government could not distinguish between criminal bandits, Republican political rebels that felt betrayed by the ruling class, and anarchist and Socialist/Internationalist agitators. These outside agitators gained traction because the immigrants from different zones had to speak Italian instead of their regional dialects. According to Alfeo Bertandini, “The liberal government did not know how to do any better. They lacked the capacity to understand the needs of the people, or how to search for ways to resolve even the most elementary problems.” He said that the clergy labeled the government “impotent” for its inability to control the bandits, and that the primary causes of “the years of banditry” had to do with past “domination by the papacy” and “the transformation from a medieval system of agriculture” (Bertondini 1966: 298, 303, 299). Eric Hobsbawm described social banditry as a manifestation of peasant protest and rebellion in agricultural societies undergoing transition. Bandits were not seen as criminals (although they were) because the peasants liked to dream of a world where they were not oppressed (Hobsbawm 1969: 128). Stefano Pelloni of Bagnacavallo (1824–51), the Romagnol “Robin Hood,” was known by the nickname “Il Passatore” (“the ferryman”). He was a notorious symbol of rebellion during the period leading up to the Unification of Italy. Although his band of rebels terrorized the countryside, he became known as a gentleman thief. Genuine Robin Hoods are rare, but at least he was polite. An iconic image of the legendary bandit in profile, with a widebrimmed hat and dark cloak, is now used to advertise Romagnol wines, country restaurants, and inns. In 2001, there was a flood in the basement of a hospital in Ravenna. Four embalmed guillotined heads of bandits executed in Ravenna in the second half of the nineteenth century were discovered floating in the flood water (Bianchini 2010). They may have belonged to a group known as the accoltellatori (knife-wielders), radical Republicans who began as a mutual aid society and were not memorialized as sympathetically as Il Passatore. They felt betrayed by Giuseppe Mazzini, the leader of the Italian Risorgimento,

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and by Mazzini’s Republicans, who defended privilege and hierarchy to the detriment of the urgent needs of the people (Bertondini 1966: 307). According to Claudia Bassi Angelini, their targets from 1865 to 1875 were the “elite owners of the new Italy” (Angelini, cited in Fasanella and Grippo 2011: 246). Their reign of terror consisted of targeted assassinations, but they were blamed for all manner of crimes and severely punished. The Unification of Italy brought the military draft and an oppressive grist tax on the milling of flour. There were repressive laws against “conspiracy.” Groups of five or more people could be declared vagabonds and thrown out of town. The accoltellatori were labeled as part of the left-wing Internationalist worker movement and blamed in order to stifle their legitimate grievances and dissent (ibid.: 245). The Times of London blamed the wave of banditry on “the incapacity of the ruling class liberals of Ravenna and their tragically deficient government politics” (Bertondini 1966: 307). According to John A. Davis, the “central reality” of the Italian state, upon which Antonio Gramsci based his concept of “passive revolution,” or economic change “without concomitant social and political change,” was the historic alliance between the advanced industrial and manufacturing bourgeoisie of the north and the traditional aristocratic landowners of the south. Following the unification of Italy, Italian capitalists were able to outmaneuver the so-called “Radicals,” including Mazzini, who “failed to play the card of agrarian reform and hence failed to recruit to their platform the vast potential of peasant unrest” (Davis 2014: 23, 17). Citing Adrian Lyttelton, he described how the failure in Italy to resolve this same “agrarian question” after World War I continued to “undermine the liberal state,” “obstruct social and political development” (Lyttelton, cited in Davis 2014: 26), and eventually, according to Frank Snowden, make the region “vulnerable” to fascism (Snowden, cited in Davis 2014: 27).

CH A PTER

5 L A N D TO T H O S E W H O WOR K H E R

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬ To insure the development of a truly socialist future it is necessary that the working class develop associations and ingrain in their consciousness a genuine concern for collective as opposed to individual interests. (Nullo Baldini, cited in Berselli 1966: 90)

T

he developing agricultural economy of Ravenna converted a medieval system into a modern one through public and private financing of land improvements, chemical fertilizers, machinery, and the creation of a rural proletariat. In the process, the braccianti were denied life-giving access to the watercourses, pastures, and firewood that provided wild sources of food for them and their animals, cottage industry and construction materials, and fuel to keep warm in the clammy Ravenna cold. The development of the new land with “modern improvements” raised the problem of control and exploitation. Management under the traditional tenant farming system would be too costly for owners and too unprofitable for tenant families. Management by absentee landlords and capitalists aggravated the misery of the growing mass of landless laborers. The struggle between the exploited Romagnol worker and his ruling-class landlord would now be elevated to a new battleground. No longer mostly concealed in the nooks and crannies of the small farms, the struggle would proceed on the vast plain of the larga. Instead of single families, armies of braccianti were arrayed against landlords with farm machines as their weapons of war. Governments assisted the landlords with the use of force. In 1890, Countess Pasolini wrote,

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The increase in braccianti numbers worries the owners a great deal. For every job that needs to be done, 3 or 4 times the number of workers requested show up; often, so that all can work, they demand that they do a job together which will finish in only a few hours; other times they oppose the work done by the salaried workers that the owner employs all year that are chosen naturally among the best and to whom they are tied by affection and custom. Other times opposition gives way to threats and continuous fights, which disturb and sadden all souls. (1890: 249–50)

This was an important historical moment in the development of the Ravenna collectives. Suddenly, out of a violently individualistic, chaotically every-man-for-himself history, an expression of cooperation and shared concern for each other’s well-being arose that is startling in the context of what had gone before. It is interesting to speculate on the significance of this spontaneous development—namely, the insistence on the part of the braccianti that work (and therefore remuneration) be equally divided in a period of intensive job scarcity. The situation could have led to the classic intra-class warfare so well-known under capitalism, where a permanent army of unemployed is manipulated with divide-and-conquer tactics to frustrate any tendency toward solidarity. California is a good example of a case in which growers purposely pitted one racial group against another in their attempt to keep wages low (McWilliams 1939). FROM MUTUAL AID SOCIETIES TO LABOR COOPERATIVES (UNIFICATION 1861–84) The dilemma faced by the Ravenna braccianti provided receptive ground for the germination of anarcho-syndicalist ideas, brought to Ravenna from the 1871 Paris Commune and Mikhail Bakunin via the Internationalist movement and their Romagnol leader, Andrea Costa (figure 5.1). Costa was born in Romagna in the town of Imola. He would eventually be elected to political office in Ravenna and subsequently cause “an avalanche of anarchist condemnation” (Pernicone 2014: 175) by becoming the first Socialist member of the Italian Parliament. Before becoming Socialists, the anarchists and intransigent Republicans, with Costa as their leader, envisioned taking over municipalities, running only protest candidates (ibid.), and uniting workers and small farmers into local associations “with concrete aspirations” (Bertondini 1966: 331). Well before Bakunin was involved in a failed anarchist insurrection in Bologna in 1877, and before Marx’s Das Capital was translated into Italian in 1889, Italian mutual aid societies (the earliest was in Piedmont in 1854) were more aligned with liberal republican ideas of nationalistic, anti-monarchy Risorgimento leader Giuseppe Mazzini (Baioni 2005). Mazzini was a populist

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humanitarian who had three reasons to push back against the ideas of Karl Marx: “God, County, and Private Property” (Vöchting 1926: 71). Although concerns for “mutual aid,” education, “moral improvement,” inter-class cooperation, and peaceful social transformation respecting the rights of capital are republican, not socialist ideas, the Piedmont authorities regarded Mazzini “as a dangerous subversive . . . a hunted man with a sentence of death over his head” (Earle 1986: 11). And these “libertarian values found a congenial home in the heart of the Italian Socialist and labor movement” (Goodway 2013: 51). In Ravenna, there were eight muFIGURE 5.1. The anarchist Andrea tual aid societies with 2,376 mem- Costa in 1880 (1851–1910) bers by 1870 (Ravà 1966: 35). The Photo courtesy of Wikipedia Commons, labor cooperatives that followed Imola Library these earlier mutual aid societies came to be linked with Socialist unions in the defense of labor (table 5.1). The once strong Republican Party, which had a “collectivist” base, especially in the low plain, eventually shrunk as a result of abdicating this role in favor of defending the “material interests of the bourgeoisie” (Bertondini 1966: 326, 312) against “the class and collectivist vision of the braccianti” (Billi 2002: 103). According to Andrea Baravelli, it would be inaccurate to assume a direct link between the evolution of mutual aid “friendly societies” and cooperatives. In Italy, the earliest mutual aid societies were successful because they did not clash with the elite classes who often assisted in their development as a Christian duty. Baravelli quotes Vera Zamagni: The whole province was filled with a network of societies inspired by mutualistic principles that were not opposed to paternalism, as witnessed by the presence of wealthy benefactors among the honorary members, and even among the founders or presidents. It was not until the last decade of the nineteenth century that cooperation became part of the heritage of the Socialist worker movement on one hand and Catholic on the other. (Zamagni, cited in Baravelli 2005: 84)

This mutual aid tradition continued in the form of consumer cooperatives that would eventually be found in every small town throughout the region.

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TABLE 5.1. Workers’ and Mutual Aid Societies in Romagna to 1870 Year Founded

Number of Members

Workers

1862

329

Forli

Artisan

1862

809

Bertinoro

Workers

1867

218

Citivella

Workers (men and women)

1865

140

Forlimpopoli

Workers

1867

240

Meldola

Artisan (men)

1862

278

Meldola

Artisan (women)

1865

188

Cesena

Artisan (men and women)

1862

536

Cenenatico

Artisan

1863

148

Longiano

Worker

1870

 80

Savignano

Worker (men)

1865

171

Savignano

Worker (women)

1870

 47

Location

Society

Forli

Rimini

Artisan

1862

335

Marciano

Artistic and Workers

1867

140

Ravenna

Workers

1863

860

S. Alberto

Workers

1866

206

Mezzano

Workers

1867

85

Russi

Workers (men)

1863

207

Russi

Workers (women)

1870

153

Faenza

Workers

1860

—

Casola Valsenio

Workers

1866

122

Lugo

Workers

1862

547

Cotignola

Workers

1868

196

Imola

Workers

1860

403

Medicini

Workers

1860

212

Source: Baravelli 2005: 31

The red logo of the COOP stores would become as common as the bell tower or town square as a symbol of collective identity and legacy of past generations. In Italy as a whole, there were 443 registered societies of mutual aid in 1862. The number jumped to 1,447 in 1874, to 2,091 in 1880, and to 4,896 in 1885 with 573,178 members (ibid.: 11, 17). Initially the mutual aid societies were limited to artisan groups that provided aid to members in case of illness, misfortune, unemployment, and old age, and to provide funerals for

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decedents. Consumer and other cooperatives were formed after labor cooperatives were developed and began to successfully press for the interests of the working class. Before true consumer cooperatives with food, wine, and textiles were formed, each community set up warehouses for food and established butcher shops and bakeries. While “Red” cooperatives have always been dominant in Romagna, Catholic cooperatives became stronger in other areas of Italy because they gained control of the rural credit associations (Earle 1986: 15–16). After Mazzini’s death in 1872, the anarchist ideas of Bakunin became more influential in the rural areas of Italy. It was Bakunin’s idea that revolution should begin in the countryside with federations of self-governing workers and communes instead of an authoritarian state, a concept that “found fertile ground in Italy, where localism and distrust of government were, and to some extent still are, strong” (Bencivenni 2011: 11). The Risorgimento did not involve a program of economic betterment, and citizens were already disillusioned with the new Italian state, particularly with the new taxes needed to fund the military and firmly establish control of the provinces by the central government. Demonstrators said, “We want to pay [taxes], but when we can!” After the agricultural crisis of 1870, there was “popular resentment of the state . . . a gradual awakening of working-class consciousness, and a surge of organized activism, growth of mutual aid societies, worker’s leagues, chambers of labor, cooperatives, and strikes” (Bencivenni 2011: 10–11). According to fascist (“Iron Law of Oligarchy”) sociologist Robert Michels, if there ever was a moment for the Socialists to take power, it would have been after the bad harvest of 1873. Not surprisingly, internal dissent among the anarchists, combined with government repression, led to the decline of anarchism. Socialism, with internal divisions between the “maximalists” who favored revolution and the “minimalists” who sought changes within the system, “became the left’s predominant radical force” (Vöchting 1926: 65, 12). In Romagna, the impetus for the development of mutual aid societies came not only from artisans and small owners but also from workers and enlightened petit bourgeoisie entrepreneurs and financiers, who united to stimulate the economy through development of local agriculture. Other neighboring regions had even more backward agricultural systems, larger concentrations of patriarchal tenant families, and greater influence of patronage, paternalism, and priests. These other regions had higher levels of emigration in comparison with Romagna, and many Italians ended up in places such as New York City where they dug the subway tunnels. But in Romagna, agricultural laborers rejected emigration and developed a working-class identity. The associations in Romagna, according to Baravelli, were bound to be different than those developing in the surrounding areas. This was because

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of the “violent and passionate” nature of the Romagnols and their image as being “quick with the knife.” The region was one of rebels. It was a territory always about to explode, a far cry from the tranquil passivity of the agricultural population in the neighboring regions of Marche, Abruzzo, or Veneto (Baravelli 2005: 24–25). Baravelli says that after the appearance en masse in the 1880s of the braccianti in the countryside, “all . . . were convinced of the need to organize into associations.” Baravelli notes that the development of cooperatives in Italy was necessarily different than the Rochdale model in England, whose urban members from that rich, industrialized nation had little in common with the desperate poor in Italy. Creation of a consumer cooperative requires capital, and the potential members in Italy could not make the necessary capital contributions. They were primarily the hungry, unemployed agricultural workers who needed to buy everything on credit. Here, according to cooperative founder Nullo Baldini, it was necessary to develop cooperatives of labor prior to the consumer cooperatives: “If those searching for work can’t find it, they can’t work, and if they can’t work, they can’t eat. Without work, they can’t even think about buying anything” (Baravelli 2005: 28, 63). Baldini was the son of a shopkeeper who extended credit to the braccianti, which made such an impression on him that he would devote his entire life to their cause. He was a defender of Andrea Costa against the criticism of revolutionary anarchist Errico Malatesta, and said that Costa, “more than anyone, is convinced that every political movement should be subordinated as a means for the economic emancipation of workers.” Baldini (figure 5.2) advocated economic reforms based on the construction of cooperatives “in anticipation of and preparing for a more just economic order” (Berselli 1966: 11, 152). Organizations of mutual aid among agricultural laborers were formed in each rural town throughout the province of Ravenna in response to mounting hostility between braccianti and landowners. They requested public works for the construction of canals, the utility of which landlords, government, and braccianti were in agreement, but these public works jobs only needed the “maximum number of ‘arms’ in summer months” when unemployment was not as severe (Nardi 1965: 194). In light of the magnitude of these problems at home, and while Andrea Costa was still in prison in Switzerland for inciting an international anarchist rebellion, he wrote an open letter in 1879 in “To my Friends of Romagna,” in which the goal of a “communist anarchy” was criticized as being too uncertain, too distant to be relevant to the masses. According to Costa, the anarchists had lost sight of reality: “We isolated ourselves too much and we preoccupied ourselves much more with the logic of our own ideas . . . rather than with the study of the economic

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FIGURE 5.2. Nullo Baldini and daughter, 1930 Photo courtesy of the Federation of Cooperatives

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and moral conditions of the people and with their heartfelt and immediate needs” (Gonzales 1972: 16). Upon his release from prison in 1881, when he was only thirty years old, Andrea Costa returned to Romagna to found the Revolutionary Socialist Party of Romagna (later to merge with the Italian Revolutionary Socialist Party). This was ten years before Antonio Gramsci was born. Gramsci’s Italian brand of Marxism shared the same ideas of Bakunin that inspired Andrea Costa. Bakunin had “denounced . . . [the idea of the dictatorship of the proletariat] as the surest mechanism for tyranny ever devised in the mind of man” (Drake 2001: 111). As a result of Costa’s letter, a clandestine congress of the Revolutionary Socialist Party of Romagna was held in the Adriatic coastal city of Rimini in 1881. A resolution was adopted to organize unions and workers’ associations in city and countryside that would show “the good effects of association . . . [and] the necessity to apply association to all the needs of life” (Nardi 1966: 392). Among the long list of strategies proposed to organize the population was the promotion of local circles (circoli) in each neighborhood for the purpose of political discussion and education. It is remarkable how the impact of this document, surprisingly written nearly a century before, was still felt in the 1970s (and to a much lesser extent today) in every sector of the economy, and how it even described the social life of the local people, a large number of whom belonged either to agricultural collectives or other labor cooperatives and got together every evening to discuss national and international politics as well as community affairs (and sports). In 2010, I was invited to dinners at circolo restaurants built by and aligned with “Green” Republican and “Red” Communist (now Democratic Party) movements. These efforts to organize every local community began with the constitution of a shoemaker’s cooperative in Ravenna at the beginning of the year 1883. This was followed on April 8 of the same year by the organization that would become famous as the world’s first and, to my knowledge, oldest surviving labor collective among rural workers, the General Association of Day Laborers of the Municipality of Ravenna (Associazione Generale degli Operai Braccianti del Comune di Ravenna). The General Association of Day Laborers was unique in that it was the first organization developed specifically to deal with the causes of misery in a constructive way. The immediate impetus for the meeting of 303 braccianti that evening of April 8, 1883, was the failure to achieve any increase in pay as a result of a strike on a land works project at a place called Fosso Vecchio on the outskirts of the city of Ravenna. It became apparent to the braccianti that they had to develop methods of self-defense that did not depend on the benevolence of the elite (Baravelli 2005: 117). It was the realization that they

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suffered from low wages, partially as a result of a parasitic labor contractor middleman, that led to the formation of the Association. The original scope of the Association, founded by Nullo Baldini and Armando Armuzzi, was essentially that of assuming contracts for labor directly to provide for an equal distribution of labor and a more just remuneration. Baldini and Armuzzi were both followers of Andrea Costa, but only Armuzzi was an agricultural worker. At twenty-one years old, Baldini had already been jailed twice for developing “human rights” organizations. Armuzzi became the president of the Association, and Baldini became secretary. The bylaws of the General Association of Day Laborers of Ravenna provided for “the constitution of a social fund which will enable the assumption of the majority of public and private works . . . [to] make a first step along the road to emancipation” (Berselli 1966: 16). They required that every member should buy a nominal share payable over a period of twenty-five months. In order to attain the esteem of the wider society, members decided that the organization would concern itself exclusively with problems of labor and avoid political attachments of any kind. Baldini’s philosophy was similar to that of the Populist movement in the United States in that he identified the entrepreneur contractor as the conveyor of capitalism and exploitation and as the cause of the disruption between landlord and sharecropper and state and braccianti. Baldini was aware that the elimination of the middleman was only the “first step” in the remedy of unemployment. He made strange bedfellows with various ideological sorts: the landed aristocracy in Ravenna, who considered both socialism and capitalism to be their enemies (Salvaco 1957: 176); the anarchist, revolutionary, and utopian currents of the young Revolutionary Socialist Party; and finally the moderate Republican philosophy, which denounced any type of political involvement and set forth self-help and self-education as the important factors in progress. As soon as the Association was formed in 1883, members asked the city to grant them a contract to do the work that had to be done in the devastated pine forest between the Lamone River and the sea. The winter of 1879 had been especially severe. Owing to the way in which the land of the public domain had been misused in the past, the forest had virtually vanished and the roots of the dying pine trees stood decaying in stagnant water. The land was in desperate need of either being reclaimed for agricultural use, which would benefit those who were “condemned to a half year of forced unemployment” (Berselli 1966: 32), or reforested as it had been in its natural state, pleasing artists, writers, and hunters (at the time there were no environmentalists as such—perhaps only simple nature lovers). The municipality repossessed part of the immense territory that had been entrusted to Baron Belluzzi-Pergami (he was also jailed for his part in the de-

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struction of the pine forest). The decision was made to revoke pasture rights to public lands, and it was finally decided to reclaim nine hundred hectares, reforest nineteen hundred hectares, and put the remaining six hundred hectares to a combination of wet and dry crops (Bertondini 1966: 280–86). Landowners who had important connections to the local government and who feared the unrest of the braccianti favored the extension of these and other public works jobs, as well as the granting of credit to the Association as a means of controlling it from the outside. The Association received the support of philanthropists, both liberals and conservatives, who saw it as an antidote to agitations and socialism. FOREIGN EXPEDITIONS, PUBLIC WORKS, AND COLLECTIVE RENTING (1884–1900) Not even a year had passed when, in the first months of 1884, the national government put the colossal jobs of draining the Pontine marshland in Maccarese, Camposalino, Ostia, and Isola Sacra up for bid. It was on the suggestion of Armuzzi that the Association negotiated and won a subcontract for the labor on a project at Ostia, worth 6 million lire ($9 million today). They had to pay 17 percent to a private contractor for the subcontract (Lattanzi et al. 2008: 60). The whole city—a band, the city council, the mayor, and Andrea Costa—gathered to see off the five hundred men and fifty women who departed by train for the swamps of Ostia on the morning of November 4, 1884. Countess Pasolini donated money for drugs to fight malaria, and King Umberto made an interest-free loan of ten thousand lire. It was an event of such monumental importance that it is still honored in reenactments by schoolchildren and annual pilgrimages of cooperators to Ostia. Even Mussolini would take great pride in continued reclamation works carried out by his regime and the development of the fascist utopian towns of Sabaudia and Littoria. Upon their arrival in Rome, the immigrants were forced by the authorities to remain closed in the train and keep moving because they were thought to be subversive. Once they reached Ostia, they found “silence, desolation, and ruin” (Nardi 1966: 417). The zone was deserted, except for a few yellow faces devastated by a deadly strain of malaria, among them a caretaker who greeted them with the words: “Unfortunate ones! You came here to die!” Enthusiasm was soon replaced by fear. Until Armuzzi spoke to the group in the rousing emotional Romagnol dialect of the hunger and unemployment waiting at home (and humiliation of returning after being seen off by the band), many thought of returning that first night before the disease could take its toll. But the next morning, “the noise of the wheelbarrows resounded on

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the banks of the canals and popular Romagnol songs greeted the rising sun” (Emiliani et al. 1966: 226). Desperate crews of Ravenna braccianti traveled to Ostia for a total of seven years in a row (figure 5.3). The traumatic experiences endured by the workers, portrayed in the novel Il Sole dell’Avvenire by Valerio Evangelisti, were so brutal and deadly that it is no surprise that angry workers even accused Armuzzi of taking the government’s money to bring the Romagnols to die in a faraway concentration camp (Nardi 1966: 417). Because of such inhumane conditions, outright revolt against the Association was threatened. Living together with fifty women to take care of the five hundred men, members ate communally and had their own currency to use at the Association’s store (Berselli 1966: 36, 419). This communal type of organization, which was based on Étienne Cabet’s fictional Voyage to Icaria and ill-fated real-life experiment in Texas in 1848, was, along with other utopian experiments, “scornfully dismissed as ‘castles in the air’” . . . in the Communist Manifesto of 1848.” (Earle 1986: 9).

FIGURE 5.3. The wheelbarrowers, circa 1900 Photo courtesy of the Federation of Cooperatives

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The idea of a communal colony was soon abandoned. Ostia was no utopia, far from it, and that was not what the members were expecting to find. The utopian tendencies of Baldini and Armuzzi were tempered by the realism of Andrea Costa, and all knew that failure there would set the Association back or, worse, cause its demise. Fortunately for the Association, the definition of “success” was modest, and the tenacious braccianti endured overwhelming hardships. They demonstrated their ability to assume public works contracts, and the local power structure came to think of temporary emigration as a security valve for the entire peasant class. Armuzzi and Baldini were awarded medals in 1899 for the work done in Ostia. In 1900, when an anarchist assassinated the king, Baldini wrote condolences to the royal family. The new king, Victor Emanuel III, gave more money to the Association in honor of his father. According to John Earle, this “flirting with the sovereign was altogether too much for some of their party friends at home.” Both Armuzzi and Baldini were Socialists, and the official position of party leader Andrea Costa was that “cooperatives could make a limited contribution towards working-class emancipation . . . [but] they would never be able to muster the resources required to be a match for capitalism in industry.” The so-called “maximalists” favored outright expropriation and collectivization. They thought that cooperatives were a selfish extension of the bourgeois system. In a series of newspaper articles, Gaetano Salvemini asked, “why should these ‘flanges’ of cooperators come down to work and improve the Southerners’ land with the support of the state, when their own penniless peasants were forced to go to America at their own expense?” (Earle 1986: 4–5, 97). Some even called the braccianti “the King’s Socialists” (Berselli 1966: 39), but Andrea Costa continued to give the Association his steadfast support and, singlehandedly, fought for laws and public contracts. He had no utopian illusions about it but felt that whatever could be done to improve conditions for the braccianti was worthwhile. Baldini’s opinion of the Socialists was that they “occupied [themselves] only with the future of socialism . . . [and] betrayed the immediate needs of the population” (Nardi 1966: 432, 47). Although Baldini was expelled from the party, he and Costa never lost respect for each other. Ravenna’s collective movement was not based on ideas of communalism, but everyone recognized the responsibility of providing assistance to the families of the hundreds of workers struck down by malaria at Ostia. On these jobs there was one rate of pay, and those who were sick and could not work received the same wage as the others. In the first year alone, there were more than a hundred deaths. It was another critical historical point at which the main principles of the collective movement in Ravenna crystallized. The epitaph on Armuzzi’s grave sums up the Ostia experience: “A peaceful

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army—From the fields of Romagna—Went there—To redeem for agriculture and health—For a new civilization—Sod that the old civilization left in ruin” (Nardi 1965: 194, 37). In 1889, Andrea Costa successfully pushed a bill through the Italian Parliament that enabled cooperatives to bid on public works up to a certain value without having to post a guarantee (Nardi 1966: 433). According to Earle, “the authorities’ attitude could hardly be better summed up” than in this letter from Ravenna’s mayor: In the large Association of Landworkers of Ravenna a complete metamorphosis has been evident since the municipality, consortia, and government showed interest in their lot by awarding them contracts. This society, which shared and boasted of the principles of the revolutionary socialists, has openly split from the latter. This society, which has always shown itself to be restless and prone to strikes, is seen today as ordered and calm and has moved close to the local authorities, and carries out the desires and instructions of the same (Earle 1986: 6)

Vöchting’s impression of the Association was that it was “nothing more than an attempt, a voluntary cooperative, to find in other regions of Italy and even outside the nation an alternative to the loss of the large local earthwork projects.” His opinion was that the reclamation jobs only attracted the unemployed to come to Ravenna, but he added the observation that “they awakened to their own power and found that their agitations and demands were successful” (Vöchting 1926: 208). The seasonal nature of employment opportunities meant that strikes and agitations could only do so much to alleviate the situation. In 1890, the mondine (women rice paddy weeders) sent a telegram to Duke Massari, absentee owner of a large estate in the town of Conselice, asking him to direct his manager to give them a raise in pay because reduction in employment had caused hunger: “We respectfully request your Excellency to authorize your agent to raise the daily wage in the rice fields to the rate of nearby towns that are one lire.” The duke, who was a “typical representative of the old landowning nobility lacking any entrepreneurship or modern ideas,” responded with a telegram to his agent directing him to do what was fair to avoid disturbances. He did not say to raise the rate to one lira, so the agent decided on his own that eight-tenths of a lira was fair because of the market value of the rice. He told the women that he would rather leave the rice paddy without workers than to go against his principles (Dirani 1957: 150–55). The women and some unemployed braccianti men gathered in the town square, where they were met by armed troops. The mayor tried to assure them that the owner’s message meant that they should receive the one lira. The demonstrators in the piazza shouted that they were unemployed and hungry. When the soldiers attempted to make arrests, demonstrators threw

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rocks. The soldiers started firing and hit people in the back as they ran away. One man and two women were shot dead in the town square, and fifteen or sixteen (including one child) were wounded but managed to run away. Eight men and three women were jailed, including some who went to the hospital to have limbs amputated. In addition to the trial, there was an inquiry. The findings were that the failure to meet the workers’ legitimate demands and ensuing illegitimate disturbance was the fault of some functionary, but that Duke Massari was a “gallant gentleman” and the people were only pretending to be hungry to confirm the doctrine of Karl Marx (ibid.). Although this desperate demonstration in the town square did not immediately result in more work or better pay, the “Killings at Conselice” were never forgotten. In January 1898, seventy-five hundred braccianti gathered on the banks of the Lamone River near the town of Mezzano and threatened to sack Ravenna (Bertondini 1966: 589). Many years later, workers would force the sale of the Massari estate to the Conselice Braccianti Agricultural Production Cooperative (D’Attore and Cazzola Franco 1991). Because the number of jobs had decreased, the Ostia experiment was operating at a loss, and a contract for work in Greece was a financial disaster, Baldini took firmer control of the Association. In a letter to Andrea Costa, Baldini suggested that the Association should concentrate on soliciting jobs in its native Romagna: “It is better that [the braccianti] reserve their vigor for the economic redemption of their own country rather than go to foreign countries, far away, where they are at the mercy of speculators without any defense whatsoever” (Nardi 1966: 462–63). Although public works were the financial basis of the young association, they were never enough to provide more than temporary support. Poorer areas of Italy that were more in need of public works got less of them because workers were not as organized as they were in Ravenna. In the eighteen years from 1862 to 1879, the state spent an average of 195,168 lire ($569,361 today) per year on reclamation works in Ravenna. After the agricultural crisis of 1870, the expenditures dropped (Nardi, 1966: 399, 457). Large works to regulate the rivers on Ravenna’s low plain were approved and promised, but not carried out. In 1885, the city of Ravenna filled the gap left by the state by providing 426,342 lire ($1,265,332 today) of public works jobs to build streets, bridges, canals, sewers, and a new port. Only those works that were so urgent that it would be technically dangerous to put them off were approved (Porisini 1966: 251), and those jobs that were funded were “insufficient, badly paid . . . [and] pulled out by the teeth after unnerving waiting” (Berselli 1966: 33). For a government that had no social welfare aid at all, the expense was minimal. Labor cooperatives modeled on the same principles and goals as the Association sprang up all over the province and neighboring provinces as a result

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of the example provided by Ravenna’s braccianti. These cooperatives often attached themselves to the mutual aid societies. In a few years, the membership of the Ravenna Association had reached 2,557, and the next largest was that of Conselice with 683 members. All were based on the “conquest of sources of labor, its equal distribution, and its just remuneration” (Nardi 1965: 195). Even smaller labor cooperatives (collectives) of bricklayers, masons, carpenters, blacksmiths, craftsmen, and construction workers copied the form developed by the braccianti. By 1886, there were four cooperative banks in the province. As the movement grew and competition for jobs developed, it became increasingly necessary to regulate competition between cooperatives and achieve more contractual power in the assumption of important jobs. The first consortia of cooperatives arose for specific jobs on a temporary basis and dissolved when they were no longer needed. Since braccianti could not depend entirely on public works jobs, the Association rented two farms from the municipality of Ravenna in 1885 and 1888. These were the first experiments in collective renting and agricultural production, and they yielded dubious results. Against Andrea Costa’s advice, land was divided into individual units and rotated among members for threeyear terms. Each exploited his one-hectare plot to the fullest before turning it over to the next (Vöchting 1926: 327). Not all braccianti even wanted to return to cultivating the land, feeling that it was not their profession (Nardi 1966: 463). It is ironic that these reluctant agricultural collectives, whose purpose was merely to provide auxiliary employment for braccianti during idle periods in between other jobs, should become so much more successful than the noble attempts by utopian planners elsewhere in the world and succeed in a capitalist economy where collectives in socialist economies had failed. Vöchting’s take on the situation, summarized here in chronological order, provides an interesting perspective. The agricultural crisis, followed by an economic depression, led to the breakup of tenant farm families from 1870 to 1890. New methods of agriculture required less labor, and the reclamation jobs attracted the more rebellious sons who left the tenant farms. But they would find that the lone braccianti could only fight by associating with others like him—he had to give up his individuality and become part of a class. The last spark of individualism was extinguished. The introduction of monstrous new threshing machines in the summer of 1888 was the beginning of new reductions in the already scarce employment of braccianti. Republicans and anarchists developed a labor bureau in Ravenna in 1889. It was supposed to be a local municipal government agency, not associated with unions and apolitical in nature. Vöchting said it would break apart if it ever became political. (Interclass “cooperation” was Mazzini’s goal that was later adopted and altered by the fascists.) But because socialists were in the majority, the tenants and small farmers who originally joined eventually distanced themselves. In

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1897, workers developed a common front, and owners had to give work to “All or None.” New associations controlled the market for labor and maneuvered to give work to everyone equally, even by reducing hours and rotating turns. Although Vöchting described the system as “autocratic,” he said it was expedient and gave workers the right to work. There were demonstrations driven by hunger in 1897, but they were met with an iron fist: five dead at Bagnacavallo and twenty wounded (Vöchting 1926: 187–89, 197, 222–24). Following the death of Prime Minister Agostino Depretis, Italy made a move to the right in 1887. Francesco Crispi began his administration as a liberal reformer but became a dictatorial authoritarian, a precursor to Mussolini. He broke off trade with France in 1889, which caused great economic hardship, and tried to turn Italy into a colonial power in Africa. The Crispi regime brutally suppressed a socialist uprising in Sicily and put detractors, including Baldini, in jail. The result of his policies included the interruption of public works, the fall of agricultural prices, high taxes, rising prices for housing, inflation, and the near ruin of currency and banking systems. The Crispi government fell in 1896 because of financial scandals and a humiliating military defeat in Abyssinia/Ethiopia. Because of the stoppage of public works, the struggle for employment had turned away from the state toward the local owners of land. But a poor wheat harvest in 1897 and disruption of trade with the United States, due to the Spanish-American War, led to bread riots throughout Italy. The police and army, which had been used to break agricultural strikes and deport socialists and anarchists only on suspicion of inciting unrest (Ben-Ghiat 1999: 444–47), were used to suppress these “disorders which [then–prime minister Antonio Starabba, the Marquis of Rudini] said could no longer be sufficiently attributed to economic hardship, but rather to the aim of the subversive parties to encourage a popular uprising” (Dunnage 1997: 29). Unemployment was so severe that a small job contracted to the Association in 1900 for the building of a street had to be abandoned. Where only one hundred workers were needed, sixteen hundred showed up. Baldini wrote to Costa that if something were not done within a week to assure jobs, there would be grave disturbances. The workers, he said, “are striking not to increase pay but to obtain their turn to work . . . [since] two thirds of our workers are unemployed” (Berselli 1966: 48). PRESSURE FOR PUBLIC WORKS AND LAND (1900–1906): THE RISE OF UNIONS, LABOR BUREAUS, AND THE FEDERATION OF COOPERATIVES With the more liberal Giovanni Giolotti administration replacing the Crispi regime, and more Socialists elected to Parliament, public works became a

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“surrogate for social legislation” (Nardi 1966: 514). Government policy became one of non-intervention in strikes, which meant that the landowners could no longer rely on the police and army as much as they had in the past. A national federation was formed to include all who worked the land. None of the small farmers or renters, according to Vöchting, could escape joining the National Federation of the Workers of the Land (Federazione Nazionale dei Lavoratori della Terra, or “Federterra”). The Republican tenant farmers dissented, but in order to secure improvements in tenant contracts, they had to unite with the proletariat who were in the majority. Vöchting said that the Achilles heel of the organization was that the labor cooperatives, with their goals of socializing the land and means of production and exchange, were admitted. The leaders of the National Federation, he said, were “hot heads” incapable of becoming more realistic and less ideological. Socialists were absolutely committed to the idea of the disappearance of the tenant farmers and their absorption into the large farms. The tenant farmers felt superior, wanted more advantages, and were not satisfied with equality. To merge these two classes, one of which “by nature would never give up aspiration to own land,” into one class “could only be an alliance, not a common destiny” (Vöchting 1926: 224–26). Vöchting went on to describe a “great wave of strikes” of 1901. He cites 629 strikes involving 230,000 workers and says that 89 percent of the strikes had complete or partial success. Even the tenant farmers, who participated in the strikes, benefitted from them. They shared work and supported strikers, and there were “noble examples” of small owners mortgaging their property to help. The unions convinced workers to stop gambling and drinking, refuse opportunities for work, and tax themselves to benefit those on strike. Thanks to the Socialists, workers began to see the causes of their situation and developed a new consciousness, which, according to Vöchting, “was built on piles of bodies.” A priest at Forli opposed their aspirations and was boycotted by his flock. Women stamped their feet to drown out the priest, and others walked out of church in objection to sermons. They left the Catholic social circles and joined the Socialist ones. Young illiterate workers learned to read and write with the goal of obtaining the right to vote (Vöchting 1926: 226–27, 266). Whether the strikes helped was debatable. They cost days of labor for the workers and provoked a counteroffensive by large growers that led to “a permanent reduction of demand.” Where the growers did not reintroduce tenant farming, they reduced the need for manpower by introducing extensive crops and raising productivity through “employing” chemical fertilizers and machines. An even greater problem than the use of the machines was the change in cultivation from rice to dry cultivation, where one machine could do the work of sixteen people. Labor costs dropped from 326 lire per

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hectare in 1879 to 50 in 1903. Eventually rice was not grown at all in Ravenna (Vöchting 1926: 226, 210). Vöchting said that the owners realized that they were confronted with a rural mass of laborers and that “the tables were turned” (Vöchting 1926: 230). They were now in the same position as a single worker confronting the owner, and they reacted by creating a strong association themselves, with 384 members representing one-third of the land of the province. They guaranteed money in the amount of one year’s income for their association. They fired agitators, took away homes, rented instead of selling land to small farmers, installed tenants and sharecropping instead of salaried labor, replaced labor with machines, left land uncultivated, used priests to help, hired scab labor, excluded Socialists or union members, and got friendly laws passed rewarding obedience. They did not succeed completely because they were heterogeneous. There was hostility to the richest ones among them who were thought to be responsible for the pressure. There was some affinity toward the workers on the part of the smaller owners who did physical labor themselves. The firm establishment of capitalism in the countryside called for new, more effective forms of worker organization. Vöchting said there were even associations of scabs (Vöchting 1926: 230). Major developments included the formation of the local labor bureaus (camere del lavoro) with hiring halls (Ufficio Collocamento di Lavoro, or Labor Allocation Office), and of unions and leagues of resistance. These new, more radical workers’ organizations were independent of the cooperatives. Some even said that the presence of cooperatives impeded the development of more advanced forms of defense of the working classes. From this point on, if cooperatives were to survive, they would have to be linked with labor unions and the Socialist Party. For the first time in Ravenna, union organizations stated the goals of the new workers’ movement: “Small improvements are not the goal of the workers’ organizations . . . complete emancipation is only possible with the collectivization of the land” (Nardi 1966: 473, 478). Even before the turn of the century, the braccianti of Ravenna had grouped together spontaneously whenever there had been a common interest to defend: a strike, a demonstration in the town square, or an occupation of a farm. The Labor Allocation Office would now assist them by taking away the right of owners to hire only those braccianti who were strong or easy to control. Where braccianti in the rest of Italy were still being hired individually each morning in the local town square, Ravenna’s braccianti were assigned their “turn” by the union officials. One historian, Luigi Preti, says that dependence on union leaders for work, instead of on the padrone as it had been, created a highly disciplined workforce (Preti 1955: 244). No worker could go to work anywhere without the permission of the union.

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Increased militancy and organization into unions forced the issue of larger governmental commitment to the regulation of rivers of the larga, a promise that had been made years before. The Giovanni Giolotti era lasted from the beginning of 1900 to the First World War, during which time the province of Ravenna became one of the most productive agricultural zones in the country. During this time, “the policy of public works was . . . a stimulus to the economic development of the country” (Nardi 1966: 514). Legislation in March and July of 1902 provided for the reconstruction of the banks of two rivers in Ravenna on a scale hitherto unknown. There was a “race,” with political pressure, between state, municipal, and private consortia of landowners to get large reclamation works done. Two million cubic meters of earth were moved, which took 510,000 hours of labor. Building the port of Ravenna occupied 200,000 men. Socialist collectives did all of this work, and they also repaired earthquake damage and built houses in Ostia (Vöchting 1926: 200). The prospective of public contracts breathed new life into the labor cooperatives. Promoted by the local Socialist Party and the labor bureau, and for all intents and purposes run by the Socialist labor union, the Provincial Federation of Cooperatives in Ravenna (not to be confused with the National Federation of Workers of the Land), which had been dormant since its formation in 1896 when the public works had been promised, was resurrected with Nullo Baldini as the first president. The Federation’s goal was “to avoid competition (between cooperatives) while maintaining the autonomy of each society . . . and regulating between them the distribution of state jobs” (Nardi 1965: 196). Nine cooperatives of braccianti, three of bricklayers, one of carpenters, and one of masons representing six thousand workers participated in the formation of the Federation, and soon there were a total of forty-four member cooperatives. There was resistance on the part of some of the larger cooperatives (including the Ravenna Association) to joining the Federation. They objected to the loss of power to make independent contracts that had in the past led to the exploitative subcontracting of jobs by one cooperative to another (Nardi 1966: 486–87). Since cooperatives were only permitted by law to take contracts under one hundred thousand lire, the Federation assumed the form of a commercial company to be eligible for these contracts. As a result, it made profits that, instead of going to individual cooperatives or to workers, went into this coordinating body for the good of future cooperation in Ravenna. With the Federation, efficiency of technical and administrative services to individual cooperatives increased, the growth of new smaller cooperatives was encouraged on a local basis, and membership was encouraged by giving members first choice for work. The excavation and rebuilding of the banks on the right bank of the Reno River (which would release thirty-three thousand hectares of previously submerged land in the north of the province) and that of the

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Lama (another eight thousand hectares) began in 1903 (Nardi 1966: 489, 435). Although private landowners were required by the government to pay one-fifth of the cost, they ended up with substantial benefits as a result of increased land and productive values (Cabiati 1906: 36). These jobs were carried out primarily in winter to relieve unemployment, and they employed some four thousand men daily for four months. The new jobs, brought to fruition as a direct result of the agitations of the young union organizations, led to the conviction among many braccianti that the problem of unemployment would be relieved through collective insistence upon “All or None,” an increase in wages, and a reduction of the workday from eight to six hours so that all could share equally in work. For this, braccianti even went on strike against the labor cooperatives (Nardi 1966: 490). The new jobs brought awareness to the issue of different abilities of the workers; some couldn’t keep pace pushing heavy, dirt-filled wheelbarrows on the exhausting treks back and forth and up and down the banks of rivers. Labor cooperative and union leaders joined together to mediate struggles within the ranks of the braccianti, between those who would favor a “natural selection” of the strongest workers with a piecework system and those who insisted on equal wages for weak and strong alike (Vöchting 1926: 267). The cooperatives were accused of creating a monopoly of labor, and the liberal Giolotti government of stifling private enterprise. In the first five years of the century, nearly all contracts for streets, buildings, waterworks, port, and reclamation were awarded to the cooperative movement. On a national level, two-thirds of all public works from 1888 to 1901 were carried out by private companies, and no one accused them of living off of governmental subsidies. In Ravenna, cooperatives had become so efficient that, with the help of the unions, they either underbid the private companies or used their monopoly over labor to otherwise eliminate them from public jobs. Two private contractors in Ravenna with contracts for the construction of a segment of a railroad and a jute factory had to abandon the jobs when the union demanded an immediate increase in wages (Nardi 1966: 512, 508). The official position of the Socialist Party on cooperatives was, at best, ambivalent and, at worst, negative, especially where Baldini was concerned. Despite what to some were his ideological weaknesses, there appears to be widespread agreement regarding his entrepreneurial ability. It might have made him one of the richest men in Italy if it were not used to help the braccianti—even when they wouldn’t go along with his ideas. His proposal that the Mezzano collective build homes for workers and provide pensions was rejected in favor of building an opera house (Ravaioli and Casadio 1997: 64). Although it was suggested at one point that the Socialist Party be given direct control of unions and cooperatives (Nardi 1966: 479–80), this never happened. Municipalismo (the strategy used by these three autonomous

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but complimentary organizations of confining their actions to struggle on the municipal level) proved to be more effective than a hierarchical partydominated machine in assisting the development of a network of workers’ cooperatives. The result was a phenomenon that has been called “municipal socialism” (Procacci 1964: 73). How to make the cooperative movement more self-sufficient was continually discussed, and the suggestion was again made to shift the onus of providing jobs to the private sector and to return to the land via collective renting. Pressure would be brought to bear specifically on landowners who held the land in a state of semi-abandonment. They would be compelled to invest in improvements and intensification of production or sell it to cooperatives that would. PROFITS AND PROGRESS (1906–9) In 1906, the cooperative movement took off. Small cooperatives were encouraged to withhold profits made on other jobs and pledge members’ future wages as security to rent land. Even those braccianti who had originally objected to returning to the land wanted to begin managing more of the public lands. Spontaneously, and outside of any organization, a group of braccianti at Mezzano rented several rice fields in 1903 with the purpose of farming them and eliminating the middleman (Nardi 1966: 494). The time was ripe for the planting of genuine collective farms in the soil of Ravenna’s low plain. Concerted action by unions, political forces, and the Federation of Cooperatives used the monopoly over labor in Ravenna to give new hope to experiments in collective renting and agricultural production, which would permanently establish a secure foothold in the local economy for the braccianti class. Experience in organizing economic enterprises, organizing labor, and toiling together in public works was invaluable in the development of collective farming. New associations were formed to begin the collective farms. Differing from the earlier experiments in collective renting, the new farms were real agricultural enterprises with technological expertise and unified management, rather than merely stopgap measures to combat seasonal unemployment. From 1906 to 1907, the first real collective farms arose at Alfonsine, Castiglione di Cervia, Lavezzola, Longastrino, Mezzano, Piangipane, and Voltana. Land was rented from both public and private sources. The experiments were promoted by the Federation and were put under guidance of Nullo Baldini and the technological expertise of Dario Guzzini. These set off a chain reaction, and in 1908, 1909, and 1910, collective farms arose at San Zaccaria, Conselice, San Bartolo, San Stefano, Massalombarda, Castiglione di Ravenna, and Carraie.

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Since there were so many members with respect to the amount of land that was rented, members took turns working on the collective and the rest of the time worked on private farms and in public works jobs. Part of the members’ salary (sometimes 50 percent) could be withheld to cover financial needs of the collective, and the willingness of members to sacrifice in this way is best described as remarkable. According to Vöchting, women were more willing to sacrifice than men. Members appealed to each other’s sense of pride, and all contributed labor gratis to improve the farms, building barns and offices, digging drainage ditches, and doing general maintenance. Vöchting’s assessment was that cooperatives had an important role in bettering the lives of farmers and that this was “original” in Italy (Vöchting 1926: 268, 262). The pattern of labor that emerged on the collectives was the same as what was found on the private farms. A system of individual sharecropping for grain and sugar beets and hourly wages for fodder crops was implemented. The difference between the collectives and the private farms was in the combination of industrial and labor-intensive crops grown on the collectives. Vöchting provided an example of an increase on one farm from seven to eight hundred days of paid labor to three to four thousand, and said that this proved that “profit was not necessary” (ibid.: 312–13). Although the Socialists, the union, and the Federation favored wages for all crops, a majority of the braccianti wanted the sharecropping system, which would either give them an individual incentive, however minimal, or (more likely) would simply allow them to work the piece of land whenever it was convenient with the help of other family members. According to Vöchting, the head of the family would go to work on private farms and other weaker family members would go to work on the collectives (ibid.: 314). The preference of members for the individual sharecropping system meant that two-thirds of what was produced went into the collective and was not paid to the worker-members; this “permitted the rapid expansion and consolidation of collective renting in Ravenna with respect to other (nearby) provinces” (Nardi 1966: 528). Vöchting described the agricultural collectives as a “new and powerful arm of the unions” and said that when collectives agreed with the unions to an eight-hour day, the private farms also had to give in to the union demand (Vöchting 1926: 312, 315). CONFLICTS, POLITICAL SPLITS, AND LAND ACQUISITION (1909–14) It was a “dispute over the use of threshing machines that became the most important social and political issue in Romagna during the first decade of the 20th Century” (Bertondini 1966: 351). The tenant farms in the appoder-

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ata had for many years provided a portion of the yearly employment for the braccianti, with their wages coming out of the tenant family’s share of the final product. Although there were differences between the Republicans and the anarchists, they formed a common front to gain concessions from the private landowners and establish the first labor bureau in 1889. The alliance between the tenant farmers and the braccianti was one not only of shared interests but also “of the heart” (Vöchting 1926: 222, 240). Syndicalists had been successful in the Po Valley, due to alliance building and to “the ability to include sharecroppers in the wider struggles of the landless laborers.” But when the tenants began not only to use new threshing machines but also to practice exchange labor to avoid hiring braccianti, the alliance was broken and braccianti struggled to prohibit the machines from being used (Goodway 2013: 52, 340). The tenants, some of whom were becoming owneroperators, identified primarily but not exclusively with the Republican Party. The braccianti class, which was growing as a result of the disintegration of tenant families, identified increasingly with radical anarchist, socialist, and communist ideological currents. Political leaders of the Socialist and Republican Parties exploited the situation for political gain. The first conflict with the tenant farmers involved the right of crew work and transportation of agricultural products then being done by exchange labor among the tenant families. The position of the Socialist Party was that the tenant farmers should stick to planting and caring for crops and that agricultural activity should stop and industrial activity begin as soon as crops were ready to be harvested. The tenant farmers recognized the strength of the braccianti and reluctantly acquiesced. The braccianti wanted the tenant farmers to help them put pressure on the landowners to pay the cost of hiring braccianti, and the outcome of this first struggle was an agreement that the cost of hiring braccianti would be split between owners and tenant farmers. Previously, the whole cost would have been borne by the tenant farmers. According to Attilio Cabiati, tenant farmers actually benefitted from this because exchange labor meant that too many days were spent away from the farm (1906: 9), and the tenant farmers needed the braccianti for peak periods. But in 1909, hostilities broke out over the machines. Some tenant farmers took the side of the braccianti, joined the braccianti association, and received discounts on labor. Some braccianti sided with the Republican tenant farmers. In the town of Longastrino there were reports of “braccianti sons rising up against their mezzadri [tenant farmer] fathers” (Mazzoni 1946: 63), and in Voltana there was a deadly struggle that left one dead and many injured. The Republican Party maintained that the tenants were the ideal solution of “capital and labor in the same hands” and proposed the formation of a cooperative among tenant farmers to purchase the new threshing machines. This

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would have greatly reduced the employment of braccianti. Fifteen thousand soldiers were brought in to keep the “Red” braccianti from forcing the use of their machines on the private farms, but after being taunted by braccianti women on bicycles, they were “paralyzed either out of chivalry or sympathy for the cause” (Vöchting 1926: 348–50, 356). It was not that the braccianti were against machines; they saw that the machines could be used to reduce fatigue and increase production. The question was, who would suffer? The idea of cooperative property as a new instrument of capitalist exploitation gave birth to the idea of “machines to those who operate them” (ibid.: 336). Roughly translated, the response of Nullo Baldini to the Republican suggestion reveals his truly socialist feelings: We have regulations establishing what a cooperative must be in order to be considered genuine. It must be composed exclusively of laborers of a certain class and profession and the profits of the cooperative shall be divided only among the laborers in proportion to the work contributed. What do you tenant farmers propose to do? To constitute a cooperative to acquire machines making others do the labor and dividing the profits among yourselves? Yours is therefore a false cooperation.

Unlike other more dogmatic socialists who were insensitive to the position of the tenant farmers, Baldini was wise to add, I can see the weak side of my theory. You tenant farmers protest with the reasonable fear that once the braccianti own the machines they will use their power to withhold use of the machines at harvest time to demand higher wages. So, in order to avoid this danger I say we should give the use of the machines to braccianti but the ownership of the machines should rest in a collective entity whether it be the Federation of Cooperatives, the Bureau of Labor, or another body. This body would be the guarantee against selfishness of any one class. (Berselli 1966: 73)

Baldini’s suggestions were approved, but the ensuing peace was short-lived. When the braccianti demanded an eight- instead of a ten-hour day on the tenant farms as a tactic to spread out employment, Socialist Party doctrine, which had previously gone along with Baldini’s “minimalist” or reformist position that included the tenants and small farmers as workers of the land, became rigid in its predication on the proletarian class struggle. The radical, or “maximalist” wing of the Socialist Party, from which Benito Mussolini was to emerge (ibid.: 95), declared that tenant farming, a remnant of the feudal system, was obsolete and stood in the way of the socialization of the land. Incendiary propaganda disseminated by Socialist leader Enrico Ferri caused resentment among the Republicans (Vöchting 1926: 228) According to Vöchting, the braccianti “leagues of resistance . . . were really leagues of attack.” He wrote that the tenant farmer, who is a “remnant of the Middle Ages,” assumed the “color” of the proletariat at times and the

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mentality of the bourgeois at others. He said that they always had the fear that even though today the landowner exploits the braccianti, tomorrow it will be them. He noted that although the Socialists called for the elimination of tenant farming, they wanted to incite them to continue to ask the landowners for a larger share of the product until the owners would throw them off the land and begin to farm with salaried labor (Vöchting 1926: 334, 156– 57, 155). A short article appeared in the New York Times about the “Duel of Capital and Labor,” in which tenant farmers were victorious in defeating “Schemes of Landowners” (New York Times, 4 September 1910). Vöchting’s impression of the tenant farmer was that “while everyone is thinking about the best way to kill the victim, he continues to survive and grow.” He is an individualist outside the class struggle. Even if he serves the property-owning class and takes advantage of the methods and gains of the proletariat, he is never a simple laborer and “always has the indestructible hope for a piece of his own land” (Vöchting 1926: 334, 156). For all the similarities between the two classes, the big difference to Vöchting was that the braccianti joined together to fight for collective ownership. He thought that if the tenant farmers could have banded together to collectively sharecrop some of the recently reclaimed land, it would have been a step toward private ownership of individual parcels. This, he thought, would have resulted in the advantage of having work and entrepreneurship in the same hands. Just at the time when the labor cooperatives were being transformed into collective farms, they lost the unity that had previously existed between Republicans and Socialists. Socialist propaganda about the elimination of tenant farming threw fuel on the fire of the dispute over the threshing machines (ibid.: 334). The hard-won monopoly of labor was broken. Soon there were two labor bureaus, a “Red” Socialist one and a “Yellow” (later “Green”) Republican one, and there were two cooperative movements who competed with each other for the acquisition of jobs and land. Of the sixty-seven cooperatives then existing in the province, thirty-five, or nearly all the braccianti labor cooperatives, with 85.6 percent of all members, remained faithful to the Federation (Nardi 1966: 547). Modeled on the Federation, the Republican cooperative movement formed the Consortium (Consorzio) in 1912. Both coordinated all fields of their respective movements—labor, consumption, and production. The Republican agricultural collectives, unlike their Socialist counterparts, were aimed in theory at transforming braccianti into individual farmers. They limited the number of members and required that they be Republicans, but in practice the organization of Republican collectives remained identical to that of the Socialists. A national institute for credit for cooperatives was established in 1912. In 1913, the two movements resolved to quit competing with each other

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for public jobs and to divide them on the basis of the number of members they had. Both movements carried out numerous important jobs: repair of earthquake damage in Sicily, building of houses, and the usual reclamation jobs done all over Italy. These agreements on public works didn’t apply to agricultural work, and the Republicans, with fewer members, cornered the labor market for salaried jobs on private farms. Each movement, trying to outdo the other in providing and controlling employment, competed for land and drove the rents up. Landowners refused to rent land to the braccianti cooperatives because of their fear of union pressure. All substandard land belonging to the city, hospital, and other semi-public entities was divided equally between Socialists and Republicans, even though Socialists were in the majority (ibid.: 549). Experiments in collective renting yielded good results, and in 1912 the Federation purchased its first large holding, the Marcabò farm, 950 hectares that was in large part covered by swamp. The braccianti of that zone, one of the most depressed areas in the northern section of the province, began the first work of reclamation on the Marcabò, taking only firewood as their pay. The Marcabò makes up most of the Sant’Alberto collective, and as of the 1970s many of the people who participated in the first unpaid jobs were still members. According to Attilio Cabiati, by 1911, the traveler arriving at the town of Alfonsine in the north of the province could see the braccianti collective at work excavating a new bed for the Senio River. And if he stopped at the Madonna del Bosco (Our Lady of the Forest) bridge next to the humble church of the same name, “he would be able to see before him on one side the luxuriant green fields of a modern agriculture and on the other the swampy point at which civilization seemed to stop; anywhere from there on out to the horizon he might have expected to see the head of a dinosaur protruding out of that vast grey empire of stagnant water over which man did not yet reign” (Cabiati 1911: 32). According to Vöchting, the results of these collective farms with unified direction were “excellent,” even though they had poor land and even though the Socialists had to buy instead of rent (table 5.2). They became owners not by choice. They had well-qualified management and lots of machines, and an indication of their advanced methods was their ability to qualify for loans (Vöchting 1926: 328–30). The “historical fact of the acquisition of such a large piece of land on the part of the Socialist cooperative movement could not possibly go unnoticed.” Among other things, local newspapers objected to the fact that the state footed the bill for the reclamation. The Republicans accused the cooperatives of exploiting the braccianti by making them work for nothing (Nardi 1966: 557–58, 493). But actually, by not taking wages, the braccianti hastened the development into modern enterprises of the land they acquired in this manner (Feletti and Pasi 1981), which gave them work at rising wages for

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TABLE 5.2. Growth of “Red” Braccianti Collectives, 1913–2015

Year

Owned by Individual Rented Collectives Public or Private or Federation Sources

1913

Other Sharecrop

Total 1,879

Average % of Braccianti Population Work on “Red” in Members Ravenna Collectives** 10,776

1915

1,001

1,939

211*  3,151

25,679

1920

3,792

3,472

53*  7,317

39,915

1921

 9,217

1947

4,804

9,135

4,589* 18,528

1948

4,850

9,369

4,600* 18,819

1951

4,977

8,834

164* 13,975

1954

5,663

6,632

181* 12,476

1955

5,691

6,959

180* 12,830

1956

5,926

5,381

200* 11,507

1957

6,095

5,422

402* 11,919

1958

6,132

5,343

483* 11,958

1960

6,481

9,653 38,482

22,251

35,473

50%

27,873

26,231

12,262

1963

18,542

1965–66

7,196

5,324

404* 12,924

17,616

30,370

1969

7,864

5,397

238* 13,499

15,530

27,147

1970 1972

9,332

14,305

24,207

43.4%

1980

9,492

8,092

17,584

4,986

8,154

35.5%

2010–11

11,874

1,264

13,138

521

12,524

2014–15

11,949

458

12,407

458

5,558

4,598

483* 14,413

5.125%

Notes: *Land belonging to Count Baldi was expropriated from the “Red” collectives to form the Catholic “Liberty and Work” collective for Catholic families. **Based on average number of 100 days of work per braccianti. Sources: Modoni 1966; Guzzini 1924; Association of Ravenna Agricultural Cooperatives Conference Proceedings 1959; Nardi 1972; Baldassari 1971; Crainz 1994b: Pasini, 2011, 2016; CGIL Union Publication, 2010 Census, table 35; 2010 Census table 3.23

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the rest of their lives. Within the Socialist Party, the acquisition of the Marcabò came as a surprise. They had talked about obtaining usufruct rights to public lands or outright seizure, but never purchase (Nardi 1966: 554). Collectives may never have bought land if they did not have such a difficult time renting it (Vöchting 1926: 321). According to Baldini, acquisition of those thousand hectares was a “social upheaval . . . more effective than any political discourse” (Berselli 1966: 91). After the Marcabò, others followed. Preferably, the land acquired by collectives would be in need of reclamation. The Federation would mobilize the masses, the state would aid in expenses, and new land would be rendered productive. From 1910 to 1915, land managed and owned by the collectives adhering to the Federation went from 1,760 to 3,150 hectares. The Republican Consortium also began renting, and by 1915 it managed 1,403 hectares. Management by braccianti collectives was “proving to be the best way to achieve the intensification of production and a wider and more stable settlement of workers on the land. . . . [They] demonstrate the superiority of the large farm with collective management over the small farm and individual management . . . which agricultural science of the day advises” (Nardi 1966: 556–57). While collectives were struggling to rent and purchase land in the second decade of the twentieth century, some of the tenant farmers were gradually achieving their lifelong ambition of purchasing land as individuals. On the political level, the struggle between Republicans and Socialists dominated this period. The tenant farmers were convinced that Baldini, who was seeking election to Parliament, wanted “to hand them a wheelbarrow” and force them to join the proletariat class. Baldini maintained that, to the contrary, it was his “firm conviction” that tenant farming was a contract with “profound roots” in the agricultural system and “should be transformed towards rent or forms of contracts more advantageous to the tenants.” He wanted tenant farmers to have better contracts and to elevate the braccianti to a position of profit sharing on the large private as well as collective farms. He was falsely accused of being an enemy of the tenant farmers and being responsible for the death at Voltana, which led to his electoral defeat by a coalition of Republicans and Catholics (Berselli 1966: 88, 92–93). Instead of “crazy” expenditures on colonial ambitions in Libya, Baldini said that Italy should invest in public works to transform swamps and build railroads, ports, hydroelectric plants, aqueducts, schools, and public housing (ibid.: 85). According to Vöchting, the failure of the colonial conquest “fell on the back of the population . . . [and] the ire of the proletariat scared the powerful class” (Vöchting 1926: 68–69). In June 1914, Socialists and Republicans reunited to stage a national general strike known as the “Settimana Rossa” (Red Week). In Ravenna, tens

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of thousands of tenants and braccianti strikers came into the city on bicycles to demonstrate. Public buildings were seized and burned, railroad and telecommunications blocked, electricity cut off, churches desecrated, and church statues used to barricade demonstrators against the police. At Mezzano, the church was set on fire and the rector stripped naked and put on a donkey (Ravaioli and Casadio 1997: 49). False reports came in from all directions that Rome had fallen and was under a people’s government; and in the wake of these reports the people of the countryside armed themselves. Most of the participants were braccianti, and since they were so numerous, the spontaneous people’s army succeeded in deposing the existing authority in Ravenna. The prefect had been promised safe passage out of Ravenna, but he could not get out because every street and bridge was guarded by armed braccianti; he ended up fleeing to Venice in a small boat. The provisional government closed the port and posted machine guns at all the entrances to the city. “Trees of Liberty” decorated by the black flag of anarchy were planted in the local town squares. The rich were forced to give grain, guns, and money to the effort. Baldini rushed home from Rome to try to stop the revolt. Then, when it was discovered that only Ravenna had succeeded, the city was easily retaken by the “proper” authorities. It was the first and last use of the “barricade approach” to revolution (Lotti 1965: 237). SETBACK BY WORLD WAR I (1914–19) The solidarity between Republican and Socialist workers during the Settimana Rossa ended as the First World War approached. Republican leaders emphasized the duty to fight, and Socialists were vehemently opposed. Oral history in Ravenna has it that because the Romagnols took part in the Settimana Rossa, they were put on the front lines in combat, and they suffered higher casualty rates than anywhere else in Italy. Italy’s entrance into World War I meant that public works ground to a halt and social legislation such as the twelve-hour day was withdrawn. Wartime spending strengthened the few Italian industrial giants and paved the way for what would become the close relationship between these monopolies and the fascist government. During World War I, working-class progress came to a standstill on political, cooperative, and union fronts. All but the women, elderly, and disabled had gone to fight, and these “weaker arms” worked long hours to support the war effort. The contribution of the “weaker arms” during the war was another crucial factor in the crystallization of basic characteristics of collectives in Ravenna: the strict insistence upon equal division of labor and equal wages between members, regardless of individual strength or weakness. Equal pay for both sexes on the collectively owned

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farms came much later in 1963 but was instituted after World War II on the spontaneous collettivi that arose to share work on private farms. Benito Mussolini, who began his political career in 1912 as an editor of the Socialist newspaper L’Avanti!, was born to a struggling middle-class family in 1883 in Preaddapio, in the province of Forli, neighboring Ravenna. He fought for higher wages for agricultural workers in the Po Valley and, along with other Socialists, was opposed to entering World War I. He would later change his mind about this to agree with the Italian nationalists who wanted to restore the greatness of the Roman Empire. They recognized that Italy was a nation of proletarians and wanted to unite everyone under a single patriotic banner. Going to war was a nationalistic “solution” that would add new colonies and expand Italian territory for hungry workers and their families. The unintended consequence of that war, which had mobilized 5.5 million into the military, was that 650,000 were killed and another 947,000 were wounded or maimed (Truman 2015). POSTWAR DEMANDS (1918–22) With the conclusion of the “war the signori [gentlemen] wanted” (Preti 1955: 349) and the return of the veterans, a new turbulent period began. Worker organizations stepped up the pressure to wrest underutilized land away from private landowners, and that pressure, in turn, led to the disastrous counteroffensive that brought fascism to Italy. On the national level, the 1920s saw the birth of the Italian Communist Party (PCI). Soldiers returning from the war joined the Biennio Rosso, a two-year wave of “Red” strikes in industrial centers, occupations of factories, and seizures of agricultural land in the rural areas. The country was in debt, the factories had been geared up for making weapons and not Fiats, and there was runaway inflation. Even though Italy was on the winning side of the war, it felt cheated out of obtaining the territory needed for expansion. The political system was on the verge of collapse when a group of ex-servicemen, left-wing revolutionaries, “Futurists,” and Benito Mussolini met in Milan on March 23, 1919. Under Mussolini, Italian fascism would implement none of the ideas they proposed: • • • • • •

Replacing the monarchy with a republic; Confiscating the property of the Catholic Church; Peasant ownership of the land and worker management of industry; Steeply rising taxation of the rich, especially war profiteers; A national minimum wage; Votes for women (Townley 2002: 28).

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Heavy losses and the wartime promises made by the government led the braccianti to feel that their aspirations of security via ownership of the means of production were justified. The end of the war and the creation of the first socialist state in Russia was a stimulus for the braccianti to resume their struggle against their own state. Following the war, there were new public works divided between the two cooperative movements: another local railroad, more reclamation and construction of streets in the Lamone lands, and work to improve the port. But the local scene was no longer dominated as it had been by the struggle to obtain work from public and private sources; it was elevated to a new level with the rise of the cry “Land to the Farmers at the End of the War.” And in the south of Italy, the cry could no longer be ignored of peasants who were angered by the usurpation of the commons, who occupied the large estates during the two “Red” years, and who were given wartime promises of land. The state responded to this cry with the Visocchi Decree in 1919, which ceded uncultivated or poorly cultivated land to the landless. According to Perry Willson, “5.7 percent of the nation’s farmland was acquired by peasant families” (2014:13). This postwar period was also a high point for the development of collective farms. To take advantage of the law on substandard land on behalf of veterans, collectives asked for 6,000 hectares in Ravenna, of which the collectives of the Federation received only 559 and the Republican Consortium only 213 (Vöchting 1926: 385). Workers had their eyes on the Raspona, a large holding that was sitting idle near the town of Porto Fuori in the larga. For some time they had been trying to get the owner, Count Raspona, to cultivate the land, rent it, sell it, or sharecrop it (they were willing to assume it under any contract); but he kept putting them off by complaining about the land being infertile and the expenses he would have to incur to get it into production. One day in 1918, six hundred people occupied the Raspona. An oral history of that day from an eighty-six-year-old participant was published in a newspaper in 1978 (Lotta Continua 1978). The braccianti, who raised a red flag in the center of the Raspona and began preparing the soil for planting, accused the owner of “boycotting the fertile resources of the land.” Here they established the peaceful pattern they would later call the “strike in reverse,” which from then on would succeed in pressuring absentee landlords to sell land to collective farms. Regarding this episode, Baldini justified it by saying, “I, who many tag as reformist, believe that more than laws are necessary to impress upon the public conscience the duty of violating the right of property. . .” (Berselli 1966: 104–5). Much of the land acquired by the Federation and its member collectives after World War I had been rented previously by the first experiments: in 1919 the Massari at Conselice; in 1920 the Beni Cervesi at Cervia; in autumn

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of 1920 the Raspona at Porto Fuori and the Pratolungo at Fusignano. In all, more than 3,300 hectares were owned and another 660 rented. Individual collectives also became owners of large farms: the Association of Braccianti of Ravenna and the collectives of Alfonsine, Castiglione di Cervia, Mezzano, Piangipane, and Campiano. At the end of 1921, the collectives belonging to the Federation managed 9,200 hectares, of which 5,300 were owned. Even the Republican consortium controlled 7,200 hectares and owned 1,900 of them (Pagani 1966: 586–87). Most of this land was uncultivated or badly cultivated and needed reclamation work. According to Vöchting, the large collectives were model enterprises, with good direction, profitable crops, and a good effect on employment (Vöchting 1926: 288–89). If the large landowners would have borne the expenses of investment in modernizing agriculture (as they were obligated to do in the first place, since the government had footed the bill for reclamation), the braccianti might never have contested the issue of ownership. Once the collectively owned lands were rendered productive, they would develop agricultural systems capable of absorbing manpower. By 1921, each individual braccianti could count upon twenty more days per year of work in comparison with 1910 (ibid.: 314). Collectives became the economic basis of the braccianti class, and they expanded to fill other needs expressed by members. Daycare centers, evening schools, theaters, libraries, and revolving funds for the building of houses all became part of the projects developed by individual collectives and labor cooperatives. On the provincial level, the Federation developed consumer cooperatives to fight inflation and to fill a gap in the private sector utterly destroyed by the war. The two cooperative movements in Ravenna were becoming famous. In 1918, journalists from abroad and even the king came to see the braccianti at work. The entrepreneurial abilities of Baldini and other leaders were applauded, and the professional capabilities of the braccianti were celebrated. Even the department of public works said that the cooperatives did a better job for less than private contractors (Cabiati 1906: 23). Pietro Mascanzoni, a laborer, became director of the most difficult engineering jobs conducted by the Federation (Nardi 1966: 552). Out of a disorganized mass of workers grew a complex of labor cooperatives specializing in every type of work, internally organized into efficient squads utilizing the most advanced techniques. FASCIST TAKEOVER (1922) Antonio Gramsci was one of the first to point out that fascism had a following among the petit bourgeoisie and was “more than an anti-socialist strike-breaking force at the service of Italian capitalism” (Davis 2014: 21).

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Although the claim by Anthony Cardoza that small landowners and sharecroppers “swung decisively to fascism” was “not convincingly demonstrated” (Bell 1984: 161), it is undoubtedly true that the shopkeepers, who had a hatred of consumer cooperatives “equal to that of the landowners against the Federation of Cooperatives . . . found in the fascists a political force capable of hearing their desires” (Angelo Tasca cited in Baravelli 2008: 99). And many in the middle classes felt threatened by the worker unrest and social turmoil of the Biennio Rosso. But far more important than the support of the petit bourgeoisie were local squadristi (fascist “blackshirt” squads) who preceded and eventually became “the motor that drove [Mussolini’s] government along the road to dictatorship” (Ebner 2011: 37). The fascist squads that began in 1919 to terrorize the Po Valley and illegally steal control from nearly all locally elected governments throughout Italy were led by the “Ras” (an Abyssinian/Ethiopian term for “chieftain”). They were local bosses, undisciplined and only loosely affiliated with each other, and not under Mussolini’s control. They recruited thousands (and maybe hundreds of thousands) of Italian men with varying personal, political, or economic grudges, unleashing them upon socialist scapegoats in their communities. Disillusioned ex-servicemen among them sought revenge against “internal enemies,” especially socialists who were seen as not supporting Italian nationalism in the Great War. In Ferrara, there were even some defectors from the ranks of the socialists who joined the fascist squads (Willson 2014: 13). In the guise of keeping the peace during the Biennio Rosso, the opportunistic bosses found financial support by reaching out to, and doing the bidding of, the large industrialists and landowners, helping the latter to “restore the worst excesses of capitalist agriculture” (Ebner 2011: 37, 31). Italo Balbo, for example, was a local boss in the province of Ferrara (adjoining Ravenna to the north) who had hoped to land “a previously undreamed-of career,” currying favor with the head of the Agrarian Association by helping the agrarians “regain control over the workforce” and destroy the socialist leagues. (Corner 2012: 30–31). Fascist thugs used violence and threats, dragging leaders out of their houses, beating them senseless, forcing them (as was done in medieval times) to eat live frogs, and giving them a week to get out of town or have their houses burned down. According to Kertzer, “By early 1920, Mussolini had jettisoned much of the socialist ideology that he had up to that point so loudly declaimed . . . [and] realizing that his path to success lay in taking advantage of the chaos in the country, cast himself as the champion of law and order and national pride” (Kertzer 2014: 26). The fascist squads that sprang up around Mussolini “made no attempt to disguise their lawlessness and violence. To the contrary, they glorified it.” Mussolini approved of this violence as patriotic

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acts against those “who deserve to be hit . . . in the character of national defense.” Sabetti makes the dubious claim that the fascist squads were easily able to crush the workers’ movements, because he says that “by 1920 the worker’s leagues in the Po River Valley had become so centralized and hierarchical in nature as to be quite unresponsive to local members” (Sabetti 2000: 229). This is contrary to contemporary reporting by Vöchting, who clearly indicated that 880,000 braccianti on 102 different occasions in 1920 went on strike, losing ten million days of work, and that they were pushing the landowners “above tolerable limits.” Although Vöchting claimed that the municipality could have rented to private entrepreneurs for more money and they would have paid taxes, he said cooperatives “represented the strongest concentration of economic power in agriculture in Ravenna in 1921” (Vöchting 1926: 286, 298, 410). According to Michael Ebner, the socialists had essentially established a “state within a state.” Although they gained power through the legal means of “elections, boycotts, strikes, and demonstrations,” there were “clashes with police, with injuries and deaths on both sides.” The landowners stoked fears of “Red terror” and atrocities. Although they “were in little physical danger,” their whole world was turned “upside down.” Uncouth peasants were seated in local government offices and gentlemen could not expect to be greeted with proper deference as they strolled in the streets: For landowners, life in this new “red” state meant higher wages, higher taxes, reduced profits, lost managerial authority, deteriorating property rights, and the threat of social revolution. Moreover, displays of red flags, busts of Marx, and internationalist slogans offended nationalist sentiments. (Ebner 2011: 25, 28)

According to Vöchting, fascism was a response to the threat of Bolshevism and a way of stopping the braccianti from demanding higher wages. “Capitalism” he said, “could not survive without fascism. . . . agrarians were the originators of fascism . . . [and] the fascists were the ‘protectors of the bourgeoisie’” (Vöchting 1926: 423–24, 431–32). When other European nations were undergoing reform, the Italian agrarians “intensified hostility to even moderate reformist unions . . . [and thereby] intensified social conflict” (Cardoza 204: 213). The role of “agrarian conflict in bringing about the final breakdown of liberal institutions was decisive,” because “the political aims of the agrarians were more extreme than those of the urban fascists . . . [and] nothing less than total reconstruction of the state could consolidate their rural counter-revolution” (Lyttelton, 2014: 110). There is little doubt that the large landowners were the “paymasters” of the local fascist bosses. According to Billi (who was a contemporary ob-

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server), agrarians paid the salary of the head of the fascist organization in Voltana (Billi 2002: 204). And Cardoza states that Bolognese fascism acted at the behest of the rural elites, who provided not only financing but also direction to the movement and who were instrumental in creating fascist rural syndicates to insure a steady supply of cheap and docile labor . . . eventually imposing its vision of large-scale productivist and commercial agriculture on the national fascist regime through the FISA, an agrarian confederation that depended on the linkage of agrarians with banks, commercial consortia, and industrial suppliers. (Cardoza, cited in Bell 1984: 161)

In Bologna, “many rank and file policemen would have combatted the fascists had they received unambiguous directives to do so” (Dunnage, cited in Ben-Ghiat 1999: 445). But officials had developed cliental relations with local elites, who used police and even the army to protect strikebreakers and stop demonstrations. Dunnage’s conclusion is that fascism “was supported and financed by local social elites” (1997: 168–69). According to London Times business correspondent John Earle, 198 cooperatives, mostly in the Po Valley, were attacked between January and June of 1921 while the local authorities and police looked the other way. And by July 1921, according to the Catholic publication La Cooperazione Popolare (Popular Cooperation), Now the moment has come to speak out. At the start it [fascism] was, especially in the areas where socialist tyranny was perpetrating every kind of villainy, a movement of legitimate reaction, such as to enjoy the sympathy of a healthy majority of the people. But now, having lost sight of its objectives and no longer being aware of its limits, it has been transformed into an organization of armed bands. (Earle 1986: 25–26)

By the summer of 1921, even Mussolini saw that fascism in the Po Valley was “synonymous with terror” and proposed a Pact of Pacification with the Catholic Populari Party. But the idea of demilitarizing the fascist squads was “anathema” to independent squad bosses and their financial backers in the Po Valley provinces. The provincial agrarian fascists were uncomfortable with Mussolini’s past association with the Socialists and his desire to gain the support of labor. They asked Italian poet Gabriele D’Annunzio to replace Mussolini. Even D’Annunzio, who was the son of a large landowner, an ardent Fascist, and a repugnant lothario (Birell 2013), “declared that fascism had become no more than ‘agrarian slavery’” (Corner 2012: 30). Although “many Italians regarded fascism as a movement that would run its course and exhaust itself within the space of a few months” (Corner 2012:31), a second wave of attacks was directed against the Catholic cooperatives in 1922. Landowners had “discovered that the Catholic peasants were no better than ‘white Bolsheviks’ and decided they should be treated as such.”

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Fascist squads attacked Catholic organizations and even assassinated, beat up, and imprisoned parish priests (Earle 1986: 26). But instead of declaring a state of emergency and using military action to disperse the insurrectionist fascist squads that were threatening (or bluffing) to overthrow the government, King Victor Emmanuel III invited Mussolini to come to Rome to form a government with the other parties. By the time the squads gathered to the north of Rome, they were exhausted (Albanese 2006: v) and undoubtedly could have been overpowered by the army. But they had already managed to undermine the democratic authorities throughout the entire country, comune by comune. So, without a civil war, the power Mussolini insisted upon was transferred to him “within the framework of the Constitution . . . in the face of fascist intimidation” (Encyclopedia Britannica 2011). By themselves, the agrarian associations were “an elitist movement” with “narrow corporate interests” that were contrary to the allegedly classless basis of Mussolini’s fascism. As a result, they could never have developed any sort of mass support as a legitimate political party on their own until they, and the fascist squads they controlled, “merged with the Fascist Party in 1923.” By doing this, they “transformed Mussolini’s marginal extremist organization into a major political force on the national level” (Cardoza, 2014: 213, 220, 189). Mussolini was not to gain control of the fascist squads until 1925 (Ebner 2011: 44), and those same groups would eventually regroup to assist in deposing him. The position of the national association of left-wing cooperatives, the National League of Cooperatives, was that fascism would be a “passing phenomenon.” They hoped that after Mussolini seized power on October 28, 1922, order would be restored and the violence against cooperatives halted. The League’s publication, La Cooperazione Italiana (Italian Cooperation), went so far as to say that “whatever happens, let us say this at once, we prefer this sudden, lightening solution which dispels and abruptly cuts short all doubts, and removes Italy from the uncertainties, from the disreputable games and manoeuvres of the old parties and of the ineffective, arid factions that bickered over the simulation of power.” The League sent Nullo Baldini, who was a fellow Romagnol, to meet with Mussolini. Although he was cordial, Mussolini had “no intention of tolerating an independent cooperative movement.” The fascists did not want to destroy the movement “but to harness it to the regime, bringing it firmly under control.” They burned and looted, killed or jailed leaders, and put cooperatives under the control of the Fascist National Agency for Cooperation. Fascist administrators eliminated any semblance of worker self-management and sold collective land at low prices to friends and relatives. The weaker Republican movement was altogether crushed. The Federation of Cooperatives headquarters in Ravenna was burned to the ground, but the cooperative movement, “though

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deprived of its socialist spirit, flourished strongly under the regime” (Earle 1986: 26, 27–29). Due to the sheer number of socialist braccianti who knew what belonged to them, the cooperative movement dragged itself through what philosopher Benedetto Croce termed the fascist “parenthesis” in Italian history. On every May 1 throughout the entire fascist period, red flags appeared on the poplar trees of Ravenna’s low plain. In anticipation of this, authorities placed guards on trees that were “suspected.”

CH A PTER

6 TOP D OW N OR B OTTOM UP?

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬ Perhaps the major difference between East and West is that the cruelties of a directing hand seem more intentional and deliberate than those of an invisible hand. But are they? (Erasmus 1984: 240)

I

n distinguishing between “invisible-hand” and “directing hand” models to explain how “man the play animal” is an active participant player in the former and a passive puppet player in the latter, Charles Erasmus made allowances for the “utopian game of catch-up progress” and also for “the cruelties of the British enclosure movement . . . [and] early factory system.” Although he says “such is the moral ecology of the game,” his preference is for the system described by Adam Smith wherein everyone “pursues his own gain . . . ‘led by an invisible hand’ rather than being manipulated by ‘specialists’” (ibid.: 230, 240). While the idea of an “invisible hand” sounds preferable to a “directing hand,” it is surprising that Erasmus does not include the fantasy of a free market system that is somehow fair to everyone as another of his utopian pipe dreams. Our economy is not just an economy where goods and services freely circulate, it is a political economy in which those with more wealth and power, who believe “competition is for losers” (Thiel 2014), try wherever possible to avoid competition by rigging the game through “unfair advantage” (Marglin 2008: 154). And if jobs are shipped overseas for the capitalists to make a few cents more, leaving residents of rural communities jobless, it is somehow the fault of the victims: “The truth about these dysfunctional, downscale communities is that they deserve to die. . . . They need real op-

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portunity, which means that they need real change, which means that they need U-Haul” (Williamson 2016). The “invisible hand” becomes a “directing hand” and pushes them out. Reality comes crashing from the top down to wipe out those on the bottom. To Antonio Gramsci, the difference between the “directing hand” of the Italian fascist state and the “invisible hand” of the “free” market is a distinction without a difference. Where Benedetto Croce saw fascism as an “irrational and therefore temporary aberration” (a “parenthesis”), Gramsci saw it as an example of a “passive revolution” resulting in “an explicable, though not inevitable, continuation of the economic and political structure which had been present from the birth of the unified state” (Davis 2014: 13). Except for the weakened position of the aristocratic southern landowners following World War II (Corner, cited op. cit.: 21), some would argue that the same fascist policies and power structure have essentially remained intact to this day (D’Attore 1998: 337). Similar to the way the first states originated in circumscribed areas of intensive farming where formerly autonomous villagers could submit or starve (Carniero 1970: 735), it could be said that the abundance created by capitalist production explains why people can be sidetracked by “passive revolutions” with incremental change and susceptible to ideologies of Fordism, fascism, and other ways of rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. According to Andrea Righi, Italian fascism “captured popular demands and offered a site for the people’s cultural affirmation that did not exist under the liberal State” (Righi 2015: 82). But while the ideological hegemony, or dominance, of the previous state was replaced under fascism, “the structure of political domination . . . by the traditional ruling classes . . . remained the same” (Davis 2014: 21). THE FASCISTS’ “TOP DOWN” AGENDA Since the province of Ravenna adjoins the neighboring province of ForliCesena, it is not surprising that one of my friends had a relative from Benito Mussolini’s hometown, who invited me to visit Mussolini’s crypt. My friend’s relative explained that Mussolini claimed to be a “Robin Hood” type who would solve worker unrest in Italy by taking from the rich and giving to the poor. He would replace the capitalist system that had failed a majority of the Italian people with a command economy that would bring about radical change without violent revolution. He did bring about radical change, but instead of benefitting the workers, he manipulated and betrayed them by cleverly fashioning “a myth, a political formula, an imagined future” that was designed to “capture the imagination of the working masses” (Gregor 1979:

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68). Fascist propaganda, for example, had converted what had “once been thought of as the debilitating and humiliating drainage of Italian manpower [through emigration]” into a myth about Italian “spiritual and cultural penetration of other countries through the emigrant” (Cannistraro and Rosoli 1979: 686). Since it is in the nature of passive revolutions to avoid real change, this myth was “not accompanied by elimination of the problems and inequities that had initially compelled emigration” (ibid.: 674). While Mussolini’s fascism stood “in awe of the transforming power of [modern] technology” (Griffin 2008: 36), it opposed the decadent, that is to say culturally liberal and progressive, aspects of modernity. The intellectual movement that flourished under Italian fascism was that of strapaese (“hyper” or “super” country), which, among other things, provided a convenient rationale “against urbanism and the idea . . . [that] the crowded metropolis . . . [was a] source of corruption . . . which the fascists claimed contributed to the declining birth rate” (Cannistraro and Rosoli 1979: 686). People in the cities were consuming too much, so the fascists preferred to have them in the country, where they could live a more wholesome life (and fend for themselves). Fascist statistics boasted of a decline in the number of landless agricultural workers through its policy of sbracciantizzazione, in which wage work was replaced by sharecropping. But statistics on per capita consumption of proteins, fats, and carbohydrates reveal the policy’s disastrous effects (Cardoza, 2014: 269). A poor diet consisting primarily of maize “lowered the threshold of survival” causing “deterioration in bodily stature, colour, and strength.” It was to Italians what the potato was to the Irish (Lyttelton, 2014: 127). Specific aims of Mussolini’s policy were “birth increment, a population of 60,000,000 by the 1950s, control of emigration abroad, comprehensive land reclamation, intensive exploitation of the native soil, and, if needed, enlargement of the nation’s ‘vital space’ [through colonization]” (Cannistraro and Rosoli 1979: 675, 684). According to a 1924 article written for the U.S. Council on Foreign Relations, Italy’s 1911 occupation of Libya was “dictated by inexorable economic and political necessity.” The article goes on to say that “the Italian colonies, which cover altogether an area of about 780,000 square miles . . . are entirely inadequate to care for Italy’s economic needs or to provide proper room for the expansion of her growing population. Italy was last to join in the contest of the powers for the appropriation of African resources (Schanzer 1924: 15). Still deeply in debt with a weak economy following World War I, the fascists embarked on a bold plan for autarky, or self-sufficiency, of the nation. Franklin D. Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, and other international observers were interested in Mussolini’s ideas. Mussolini raised tariffs on imported goods that protected Italian industries and required these industries to be

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administered by Fascist Party bureaucrats. Despite high costs to consumers, the industrialization of Italy, according to Robert Michels, was a necessity. Food was another requirement for self-sufficiency, and “no scholar now speaks of Lebensraum [living space] and German imperialist ambitions without referring to the crucial problem of how to feed the population of the Reich” (Saraiva 2010: 458). If Mussolini could, as another mythological story goes, make the trains run on time, he must have been able to simultaneously increase the population, feed everyone, industrialize, and, if needed, acquire a few colonies. Mussolini’s vision was clear: “The Italian land giving bread to all Italians,” to free Italy from the “slavery of foreign grain” (ibid.: 471). To accomplish this he launched the “Battle of Wheat.” He stripped to the waist and, in his futuristic “Flying Duce” goggles, started the annual ritual of threshing wheat to become known as “The First Peasant of Italy” (Marchetti 2013). Behind the scenes were geneticists working in labs to modify “elite” races of seeds. Wheat self-sufficiency would require “a proliferation of institutes, commissions, and boards responsible for controlling the entire wheat circuit (production, imports/exports, stocking, quality, distribution)” (Saraiva 2010: 458). This was the first effort to conduct a formerly capitalist business within an authoritarian framework. No expense was spared to produce these “seeds of victory” in controlled laboratory spaces and to grow them out on a massive scale in experimental plots in farmers’ fields and through purchases of land throughout different regions of the country. The new seeds required intensive use of fertilizers and machinery, which would benefit the growing chemical and manufacturing industries. In the words of Il Duce, “You, the technicians . . . shall awaken agricultural activity from where it was left behind by the old procedures . . . you shall be the energizers reaching out everywhere, till the last village, until the last man.” The genetic purity of the new seeds would “put an end to the variable and unreliable world of traditional landraces, replacing it with a set of standardized genetic products with predictable fixed behavior” (ibid.: 464). There was fierce debate about whether the new seeds should be introduced in the arid south, where the hard wheat seeds were better adapted but less productive. Moreover, In spite of the consensus around the importance of the Battle of Wheat for the regime’s imagery, the general verdict about its effects tends to assume a negative tone. The campaign is perceived, for example, as the price paid by the Fascist Party to guarantee support from the large but backward southern landowners who would not survive without generous state subsidies in the form of high duties on foreign cereals. And, even if historians recognize that modern capitalist landowners of the northern fertile areas of the Po Valley were the ones who mostly benefitted from the regime

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of wheat autarky, the Battle is still charged with having been funded by consumers paying higher prices for bread, since Italian wheat was always more expensive than North American or Argentinian grain in international markets. This not only had a dramatic impact on the domestic budget of city dwellers, namely industrial workers, but also on the small farmers inhabiting Italian mountain regions where meager grain production, insufficient for local consumption, required them to buy their bread at climbing prices. Finally, the Battle is also held responsible for an obsession with wheat production that undermined the previous diversity of Italian agriculture, largely penalizing fruit and vegetables as well as wine production. To summarize, the “mission accomplished” banner heralded by Mussolini in 1933, when productivity rose above the 15 quintals/ hectare, is taken as another act of propaganda typical of a façade regime that always exaggerated its feats while hiding the many problems caused by its policies. (ibid.: 481–82)

And what about those starving agricultural workers and poor tenant farmers? How were they going to fit into the fascist scheme? Contrary to Mussolini’s original goals, the eradication of the “Red Menace” became the fascist raison d’être. For propaganda purposes, the fascists celebrated the petit bourgeoisie, but as a practical matter the Battle of Wheat could only be won on large farms under unified management—not on an assortment of barely self-sufficient family farms. One of the first things they did was to revise the tenant farm contract to be more favorable to the owners (Albonetti 1977: 104). Under fascism, large holdings were further concentrated and medium-sized holdings pulverized. Very little land changed hands and a large amount of government funding for land reclamation was paid to landowners who “never lifted a finger” to justify those funds. Large agrarians used cheap labor of those with small parcels of land “who would often work for less than those who had none.” There was the added advantage of “social stability,” because the small proprietor would rarely identify with those below him and the “opposition to fascism was rarely translated into a desire for proletarianization.” The small farmers were taxed more than the large. As consumers they received the costs but not the benefits of protectionism; and, after much family sacrifice, they often lost farms that were taken by the banks and added to the large holdings. Records show that properties were often expropriated for nonpayment of even miniscule overdue taxes. The agrarian fascists broke the back of organized labor and essentially returned “to those pre-capitalist forms they had done so much to destroy over the last 50 years.” But contrary to the backwardness that others have described, there was, according to Cardoza, considerable progress in agriculture that was “achieved through exploitation” by the capitalist farms of the Po Valley. By “subtracting resources from agriculture” and “investment in industry by agrarians,” the balance of payments deficit, which would have otherwise been a huge problem for Italy, was improved (Cardoza, 2014: 268, 273–74, 266, 287–88, 277).

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As for the collective farms, Pietro Cagnoni, who took over management of the Federation of Cooperatives for the fascist government, said that on recently reclaimed land they had proven themselves to be “model” enterprises with “adroit” direction. Arrigo Serpieri, the fascist agricultural expert, said that “one cannot negate the good that was made in those years by socialism in the countryside . . . with pressure exerted on the landowning class to better the life of the worker through technological progress and higher agricultural income.” Countess Pasolini noted that the agricultural production cooperatives had proven themselves by working with “intelligence . . . conscience . . . and an honorable spirit.” Robert Michels said that “even though Cagnoni was a political adversary,” he praised the success and selflessness of the leaders and had only good things to say about them (Vöchting 1926: 288, 222, 303). In comparison, an article in 1919 in a Catholic newspaper asked owners to demonstrate that they were socially more useful than the communists by producing more efficiently than the large collective enterprises. The article said they should be on the vanguard of agricultural progress, and not backward or lazy (misoneismo or pigrizia) regarding innovations (Albonetti 1977: 94). The “tyranny of reality” is a phrase Vöchting used to describe how the braccianti preference for individual sharecropping forced the unions to accept it, but the phrase more accurately describes how, under fascism, “there has to be a relationship between the driver and driven,” especially for cooperatives living by procuring government land reclamation contracts. Fascists liked the idea of large squads of workers controlled from above—they just did not want them to be “Red.” Although Cagnoni described the managers of the nine existing labor cooperatives as “valiant,” he said that many of them came from simple trades, and under fascist management these “lunch box” directors were replaced (Vöchting 1926: 304, 307). According to Stefano Piastra, the relationship between land reclamation and agricultural development is usually “an attempt, in a Malthusian view of the process, to mitigate fast demographical growth” (Piastra 1990: 8). They are “modernist projects” that are powerful symbols of national pride, “usually described mainly as agricultural and technical success stories.” So it is not surprising that land reclamation reached its peak in the Po Valley during fascism, when the focus of the country was on building agricultural selfsufficiency. Wetlands in Italy “were seen as wasteland, as a refuge for uncontrollable parts of the population, and as a source of malaria. . . . For Mussolini’s fascist government, continuously trying to demonstrate its capability to run the country in an efficient way, gaining control of this hostile environment became a proof of masculinity and success” (Renes and Piastra 2011: 24–25). As previously mentioned, Vöchting said that only the state had sufficient capacity to bring large projects like these to completion, and by now

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the work could be done first with hydraulic and then de-watering pumps instead of by hand. But rather than installing the large collective farms so admired by the fascists and giving them to the workers to manage collectively, small family farms were established on the newly reclaimed land. The idea was to turn field hands and fish poachers into farmers. The cost of this method of creating approval for the government, as with the cost of developing the “seeds of victory,” was enormous. Added to the cost of the reclamation itself was the cost of establishing houses, barns, roads, and towns. The government office was prominently placed in the center of each town. Some of them were built with streets in an “M” pattern, for “Mussolini,” instead of perpendicularly. Each farmhouse was labeled with a number and the date it was given to the family. During the fascist period, for all its superficial glorification of the common man, there was a total absence of any legislation favoring the acquisition of property on the part of family farmers (Preti 1955: 476–77). The blockage of the aspirations of this class, insofar as it widened the gap between the haves and have-nots, paved the way for the post-liberation struggle to obtain land collectively. If those twenty-odd years had seen an increase in the middle class, the story might have been different. Fascism also stifled the development of agriculture in the province of Ravenna. Progress in mechanization was insignificant (590 tractors in 1930 and only 780 in 1938). Fruit crops were slow in expanding (2,100 hectares in 1921 and only 4,240 hectares by 1931). The only crop encouraged and protected by the regime was grain, and by 1938 it covered 68,714 hectares, or 45 percent of the total agricultural land (Modoni 1966: 11). Fruit was restricted in favor of grain, 17 percent of the small farms were sold, the price of machines rose, the use of chemical fertilizers increased, the price of agricultural products fell, the number of registered unemployed grew from six thousand in 1926 to twenty-three thousand in 1929, owners abandoned making improvements, profits were achieved by reducing salaries and consumption, and the fascist government proposed emigration to Africa as a solution to the people’s needs. At the end of World War II, “54 percent of properties occupied less than 4.1 percent of cultivatable land” (Cardoza, 2014: 273). In the postwar period, the production of fruit doubled (Landi 2002: 260, 31, 35, 38, 45). THE CHRISTIAN DEMOCRATS AND THE MARSHALL PLAN AGENDA The next grandiose attempt to shape the land and people from the “top down” to achieve political goals came after World War II, when the Po Valley

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was in a bombed-out state of ruin. Again, the “Red Menace” was the primary concern of the government and the elite. Robert Ventresca, in “The Virgin and the Bear: Religion, Society and the Cold War in Italy,” explains that the election of April 1948 “was not so much about ‘issues’ as it was about ‘ideology,’ a clash between two competing visions of Italian society—a conservative, Catholic, capitalist Italy envisioned by Christian Democracy, versus a revolutionary, secular, socialist Italy envisioned by the Popular Front” (Ventresca 2003: 439). Prior to the vote, the fear in the minds of faithful Catholics led to highly publicized apparitions of a tearful Virgin Mary (ibid.: 442). The Christian Democrats easily won the election, and Catholic cooperative organizations, which survived and grew throughout fascism, were the obvious choice for the new government’s efforts to rebuild Italy. Although they remain strong throughout Italy to this day, particularly in the form of rural banks and credit associations (Albonetti 2014), they were at a disadvantage in the lower Po Valley after the war because of the strong presence of the left-wing worker organizations (Campagnoli 2004). The Virgin Mary’s followers were not the only ones worried about the Red Army storming the Vatican. The U.S. State Department had similar concerns, which, according to David W. Ellwood of the Johns Hopkins University in Bologna, led to “the largest propaganda operation directed by one country to a group of others ever seen in peacetime.” Beginning in 1948, the Marshall Plan was never just about loans, investments, and productivity. It was about “creating a market for U.S. products” (Ellwood 2012: 372, 347) and “changing attitudes, mentalities and expectations in the direction of mass-production for mass-consumption prosperity” (Ellwood 1998: 33). The immediate priority, according to Ellwood, was to stop the haemorrhage of dollars from Europe caused by the need to find in America basic supplies of food, fuel, and raw materials, which in normal times would either have been produced local or imported from colonies and other parts of the world. While the West Europeans faced bankruptcy, the Americans were building a huge, unusable, balance of payments of surplus. This was the so-called “dollar gap.” As in the game of Monopoly, world trade was shuddering to a halt because one of the players had accumulated all the money. To restart it, the Bank would have to redistribute the cash. (Ellwood 2012: 347)

Henry Tasca of the American Embassy complained that the industrialists, large landowners, and other elements of the ruling elite were not capable of compromise (ibid.: 359), but that the demand for land reform after the war could not be ignored. The people wanted land, and they wanted it now. So after the 1948 election, the new Prime Minister, Alcide De Gasperi, presented a land reform proposal to Parliament. It provided for expropriation

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of land from owners who had over three hundred hectares, payment in government bonds (which enabled landowners to profit by investing in industry during Italy’s “economic miracle”), and distribution of land to the landless. It was bitterly fought by the Italian right and by many members of De Gasperi’s own Christian Democrat party, who said it went too far. Large landowners divided their holdings among family members into pieces smaller than three hundred hectares (Ginsborg 2001a: 132). Meanwhile, unrest was mounting. The people had been promised land, and they demanded it. There were confrontations with police and occupation of land, and public opinion favored the landless. Profiting from a 1947 break between Republican and Socialist labor unions and protected by the newly elected Christian Democrat–dominated government, the landowners, who sought an “end to reform and beginning of a search for profits” (Modoni 1966: 23), began to reconstruct and streamline capitalist agriculture. At the same time, with the help of the U.S. Marshall Plan, Alcide De Gasperi’s government sought to placate the landless by dividing up a few large holdings into family farms and by the creation of a Catholic braccianti collective in Ravenna named Libertà e Lavoro (Freedom and Work). The land, which previously belonged to a Count Baldi, had been collectively farmed under a sharecropping contract. The Federation carried out the reclamation works, but when it was expropriated, the “Red” braccianti were expelled, and Libertà e Lavoro took over. Many were glad to see it later struggle with bankruptcy. The Marshall Plan’s biggest contribution to Italy was to be the “idea of persuading the low-income consumer to feel the need for something he’s never had, using advertising, and then to give it to him at a price he can afford” (Ellwood 2012: 363–64). At first there were “press articles, formulas for radio shows, exhibitions and films which could be used in any country in Europe,” but later “local scriptwriters and directors were recruited to fabricate film propaganda material.” Films were not overtly political, but they intentionally conveyed messages of affluence, such as portraying factory workers in the United States who drove their own cars to work and shopped in well-stocked grocery stores. But “no one was taken in . . . even the most sincere friends of the United States sometimes find it hard to appreciate what they are getting” (Ellwood 1998: 33, 38). According to Ellwood, extensive public opinion polling indicated that what Europeans wanted most was “security . . . [defined as] employment, health, and old age benefits,” and if faced with “a choice between guns and butter,” the Europeans would refuse the former “unless ‘social justice’ figured as part and parcel of all future schemes to raise production for defence.” While Western Europe favored a welfare state capitalism that was “socially oriented, inclusive and directed towards dealing with the miseries handed

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down to their peoples from the past,” the Marshall Plan proposed a model of growth as a solution to problems. Everyone, they thought, should welcome “a good society that was private, consumerist, and oriented towards the future . . . to meet the demands of the ‘revolution of rising expectations.’” But the American “obsession with material output, technical progress[,] . . . consumption[,] . . . a standard of life defined economically,” and a focus on the future to replace the European “nostalgia for the past” was met with skepticism. A large segment of the population felt that the Marshall Plan was designed to prop up unpopular social and economic policies and “restore to power conservative and reactionary vested interests.” According to surveys, the population segments who were most resistant to the manipulation were workers and peasants, and “no matter how cheap synthetic fibres became . . . Italian women would always prefer clothes made in the home with natural materials; tinned food might be sold very cheaply, but Italian traditions of cooking would always be preferred” (Ellwood 2012: 375, 377, 378, 381, 365, 372). Winning the hearts and minds of the Italian farmworkers and tenant farmers would take more than the children’s cartoons that were really aimed at their semi-literate parents and grandparents. A partial reform law (legge stralcio) was passed for the most depressed areas in the south, and also for the Po Delta where there were large landholdings, extensive cultivation, and an excess supply of labor. Landowners whose efficient farms were run in cooperation with workers were exempt from expropriation. Assisted by funding from the Marshall Plan, the Ministry of Agriculture created agencies to plan the reform, improve the soil, construct buildings, complete irrigation and reclamation projects, and provide technical assistance to the recipients. The recipients, who had to agree not to sell, were given thirty-year loans with the title retained by the agency. As described by Lorenzo Belotti, Many and difficult were the problems encountered by the reform agencies as they initiated their work. Large portions of the reform areas consisted of rough woodland, marshy land full of stagnant pools, of eroded and impoverished soil. Before the land could be expropriated, plans had to be drawn up; before rational farming could be possible vast works of drainage, leveling, road making, and deep ploughing had to be undertaken; before the land could be distributed to the new peasants, farm buildings and farm dwellings had to be provided. It was a gigantic task for the Italian government to carry out. But . . . by the end of 1956, 800,000 hectares of land were expropriated, over 43,000 tractors and 40,000 pieces of agricultural machinery were introduced, 4,500 miles of roads were completed, 50,000 heads of cattle were distributed, and 587,000 hectares of land were assigned to the new peasants.

Rural centers were set up in the countryside, with churches, vicarages, grade schools, shops, meeting halls, post offices, medical clinics, police stations,

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and, in some cases, theaters and soccer fields. The recipients were given training to improve traditional crops, introduce new commercial crops, expand livestock production, intensify the use of organic and chemical fertilizers, and use recuperative crops. The agencies initiated the development of cooperatives, which were vital because a landed peasantry with small holdings, small or nonexistent capital resources, and no credit at the bank may be able for a time to obtain a bare subsistence from the land but, as has been demonstrated many times, such small holdings, if not accompanied by a large degree of cooperation among their owners, lead the peasants to utter misery until they are forced to give up what little land they have. (Belotti 1960: 121–23)

The agencies also “conducted courses in agricultural mechanics, arboriculture and herbaceous cultivation, in the preparation of the soil, in farm management, livestock breeding and other courses,” and, for the women, “courses in personal and domestic hygiene, sewing, domestic and rural economy.” They resettled peasant families from overcrowded towns to the countryside, and, last but not least, they sent in social workers “to help the assignees overcome the numerous fears, superstitions, and prejudices which centuries of miserable living have created in them” (ibid.: 123). Mistakes, Belotti says, have of course been made. Complaints range from slowness in promoting cooperatives without which the recipients cannot prosper, a paternalistic attitude of the technicians, and farmers being forced to take courses and allowed no choice. The most serious criticism “is the one directed against the formation of innumerable small farm holdings . . . [and whether they are] large enough to provide farm families with an increasing standard of living.” Belotti acknowledged that some of the criticisms of the reform were justified and that the reformers seemed to want “to form a small, self-sufficient peasant ownership; to create an idyllic picture many times represented in Italian paintings, poems, and novels of the Romantic era” (ibid.: 127). Belotti said there were good reasons why the agrarian reform “should have been directed toward the realization of great industrialized agricultural enterprises, leaving the small farms in the zones where they are economically sound.” He concurred with Italian professor Manlio Rossi-Doria that “some sort of agricultural equilibrium will be possible only when more than half of the agricultural population is transferred to some other place or to some other job.” He concluded with his own opinion that public intervention should be directed toward secondary and tertiary activities and “toward the prevention of greater pulverization of holdings which, if continued, would eventually reach a ‘pathological aspect as harmful as that of the latifundo,’ and toward preparation of many of the farmer’s children in other trades and professions” (ibid.: 127–28).

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Sadly, the end result of the agrarian reform, particularly in the larga zone, was the reconstitution of the large farms. In addition to sales by reform recipients, changing governmental policies led to new incentives to modernize agriculture designed to counteract the fragmentation of holdings caused by the reform. In their 1991 study of the Italian Agrarian Reform for the World Bank, Shearer and Barbero describe the braccianti agricultural production cooperative of Filo in Ferrara, which merged with the one in Alfonsine and is now named Giulio Bellini Braccianti Cooperative: The bottom line in the case of the huge cooperative (traditionally affiliated with the Communist Party but today totally devoid of dogma) headquartered in Argenta (Ferrara province) in the lower Romagna, is that it is a dynamic, multi-purpose enterprise with a management hardly distinguishable from that of a profit making firm (except for its distinct social orientation and environmental awareness). The successive [government] loans, amounting to 11.4 billion lire for 938 hectares purchased over nine years beginning in 1984, that it has contracted for acquiring assorted farmsteads (including those of a group of former land reform beneficiaries who couldn’t make it on their own) have helped it prosper and expand, and its diversified income sources have prevented the loan amortizations from becoming a cash flow problem. (Shearer and Barbero 1994: 55)

Also, by 1965, after all the immense effort, expense, political posturing, struggle, and human drama that went into the reclamation and use of those reclaimed lands, the scientific community and the public became aware of the need to preserve wetlands and were opposed to continuing land reclamation. The Po Delta is no longer depositing soil at the mouth of the river as it did in the past, the beaches are losing sand, the reclaimed land is sinking, salt is seeping into the soil, agricultural productivity has declined, and the fragile ecosystem of the marshland is damaged. As a result of land subsidence, the ancient lost Etruscan city of Spina has been discovered and is the site of archaeological investigations. While 60–70 percent of the Po Delta was reclaimed for agricultural use, it is still one of the largest wetland habitats in Europe and is now a protected UNESCO World Heritage Site, catering to bird-watching tourists and nature lovers. According to French scholar Jean Jacques Coste, who visited the area in 1855, the local people had traditionally managed those natural resources using an impressive “semi-scientific” approach to aquaculture. Fishing and fish poaching were important in the livelihood of local people. State guards were hired to prevent poaching, but a fish poacher’s status increased with every arrest, and their fishing companions would support their families while they were in jail (Piastra 1990: 8). “Nowadays,” according to Stefano Piastra, “it is possible to state that the relationship between costs and benefits . . . [of the land reclamation program] was unsatisfactory, and that this anachronistic program has largely

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failed” (ibid.). One of the towns built under fascism in a desolate area of the Comacchio marshland in the Po Delta was named for Anita Garibaldi, wife of Giuseppe Garibaldi, who was a hero of the Italian Risorgimento. Garibaldi and his wife fought against the Austrians on the side of the papacy. Anita Garibaldi died of malaria on the Mandriole estate near Ravenna that was ultimately acquired by the collectives. The accoltellatori (a group of radical Republican bandits) were accused of causing her death. The town is currently an isolated, semi-deserted village. The urban spaces with the former monuments to fascism have been appropriated and dedicated to pro-freedom victims and World War II partisans. The large estates in that area have now reappeared, and the reduction of the wetlands has led to the loss of fish, eels, wildlife, and other resources utilized by local inhabitants (Piastra 1990: 10). According to Elwood, the Marshall Plan “entered into history as the most successful American foreign policy project of all since World War II” (Ellwood 2006: 17). But it is not surprising that both the fascist and post–World War II land reform social engineering of small family farms and rural towns led to unfortunate results from the perspective of many of the recipients, especially in areas unsuited to small family farming. One recipient of the agrarian reform in Ravenna, an ex–tenant farmer, told me in the 1970s, “Here we cannot make a living. We ought to give this land to the braccianti collective who could get more out of it than we can” (Lombardini 1972). The land he is speaking about was part of a large tract at the mouth of the Lamone River. While the Lamone land was unsuited to the economy of the family farm, it was suitable for the development of the collectives. IS A “BOTTOM UP” AGENDA POSSIBLE? In the film Requiem for the American Dream, Noam Chomsky says that “where there are structures of authority, domination, and hierarchy . . . if they can’t [justify themselves] we ought to be dismantling them.” Quoting Howard Zinn, Chomsky says that progress over the years happens because of “the countless small deeds of unknown people who lay the basis for the significant events that enter history. They are the ones who have done it in the past. They are the ones who will have to do it in the future.” Chomsky says he would not want his children to live in a society “based on Adam Smith’s vile maxim ‘all for myself, nothing for anyone else’. . . a society in which normal human instincts and emotion of sympathy, solidarity, and mutual support . . . are driven out.” Quoting the late twentieth-century social philosopher John Dewey, Chomsky says that in such a society “policy will be [under] the shadow cast by business.” And, also according to Dewey, “until all institutions—production, commerce, and media—are under participatory

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democratic control we will not have a functioning democracy.” Although Chomsky does not think we are smart enough “to design in any detail what a perfectly just and free society would be like . . . we can give some guidelines and more significantly we can ask how we can progress in that direction” (Scott, Nyks, and Hutchinson 2015). Chapters 4 and 5 of this study have shown how, in the case of the province of Ravenna, people working together in a social movement refused to emigrate and instead built a viable “bottom up” alternative that functioned within and alongside the market economy in a Western capitalist country, defying the “top down” agendas of the Fascists and the post-World War II American-supported Christian Democrat government. Chapters 7 and 8 will describe the operations of these organizations, specifically how they were able to “make work” and how they worked together to meet their individual needs and secure the future of their collectives. According to Robert Michels, struggles like these for socialist principles, which “at their heart” involve “an extension of democracy,” are self-defeating and impossible. Whenever people form organizations, he says, the inevitable result is that the organizations eventually give up the principles upon which they are founded (“who says organization says oligarchy”). The leaders “climb out of the working class, leaving their comrades behind, demanding of workers now only that they continue to vote for them . . . [and making] unprincipled appeals to voters in order to win” (Barker 2001: 25–26). But the Ravenna collectives have not succumbed to Michel’s “iron law of oligarchy,” and they are not “crashing on the same rocks” in a “cruel game” that he predicted will “continue without end” (ibid.: 27). Nor have they become private joint stock companies as Erasmus predicted (1984: 181–82). And Ravenna is not the only place where “the iron law of oligarchy is rusting away.” Yale University researcher Julie Fisher found that grassroots indigenous nongovernmental organizations have mechanisms to reinforce democratic characteristics. She suggests that they should be supported by international development agencies (Fisher 1994: 129). As for the United States, the University of Wisconsin has a Center for Cooperatives devoted to the study and promotion of cooperatives. Written by E. G. Nadeau, who received his PhD in sociology from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, The Cooperative Solution: How the United States Can Tame Recessions, Reduce Inequality, and Protect the Environment, is an excellent little book explaining exactly how, even without major political changes or government assistance, it is possible for self-help cooperatives to make real progress to (as the subtitle of his book confidently declares) “tame recessions, reduce inequality, and protect the environment.” Nadeau discusses the “incompatibility of political and economic decision-making,” outlines the disastrous consequences over the last 237 years of concentrated

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economic power in the United States, and describes how the cooperative sector has already influenced change in certain sectors of the U.S. economy. Although cooperatives represent less than 1 percent of the gross domestic product, he says that “most Americans are probably member-owners of at least one of these democratically-run businesses.” He then goes on to list “plenty of additional opportunities for co-ops to transform the U.S. economy in positive ways” (Nadeau 2012: 11, 13, 76). Some of the ways ordinary Americans can help transform the US economy include joining credit unions, mobilizing rural energy cooperatives, using cooperatives to combat climate change, revolutionizing social services through cooperatives, joining consumer-owned food cooperatives, participating in community-supported agriculture programs, putting the “mutual” back in mutual insurance companies, expanding and diversifying cooperative housing, making employee ownership a significant part of the U.S. economy, and keeping small businesses competitive through cooperation. If the region of Emilia-Romagna in Italy can do all of these things, what is stopping Americans from doing the same on a larger scale? Is it something that can only be accomplished in smaller-scale societies? Or is it because we think that the way multinational corporations are taking over the world is an inevitable part of “progress” and the cultural evolution of mankind? Anthropologists in fact have noted that there does seem to be a direction in human history on this planet. Robert L. Carniero of the American Museum of Natural History has studied the role of warfare in the consolidation of political units throughout human history in which losers of wars must submit to winners or risk survival outside an environmentally circumscribed zone of high food production. If this trajectory continues (and humans survive), Carniero projected that there will be only one state for the entire globe by ad 2300 (Carniero, cited in Harris 1989a: 501). That state will owe its existence to warfare. As with what would happen if Erasmus’s fictional utopian societies were to be put into practice, that society would of necessity become despotic and totalitarian. To Marvin Harris, this provides a reason for people to push back to end wars and to support “those who believe the state must be surpassed if our kind is to survive” (Harris 1989a: 501). Harris is not the only anthropologist to weigh in on these issues. John Bodley’s The Small Nation Solution: How the World’s Smallest Nations Can Solve the World’s Biggest Problems is a comprehensive study of real-world examples of smaller-scale societies in which there is an “optimal distribution of power,” which are “more equitable, stable, and secure for everybody” (Bodley 2013: 262). According to Bodley, global problems of poverty, war, and environmental degradation are problems of scale and power. As towns grow into cities, the political and economic power of the elite increases, wealth becomes more concentrated, and democratic decision-making decreases

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(Bodley 2001: 367). He looks to small nations around the world that could provide a model for a more sustainable global system to ensure human survival without leading us toward a totalitarian future. The province of Ravenna has fewer than four hundred thousand people— the size of what Bodley refers to as a “mini-nation.” He found that where governments are small and there are networks of small businesses and cooperatives, as in Ravenna, the result is less concentration of wealth and power and more political as well as economic democracy. For those uncomfortable with the idea of the annihilation of the human species or a militaristic totalitarianism fourteen generations from now, and for those wondering about the likelihood of economic democracy, the cooperative network in EmiliaRomagna offers a real-world example. The following chapters will explain how cooperatives in Ravenna managed to fill important niches in their local economy and how they grew and persisted long enough to become influential in developing an economy that arguably puts people and planet before profits. In the words of David Graeber, they are a “gift” (Graeber 2004: 12) showing us how even partial decentralization within a large-scale society can increase social justice and sustainability.

CH A PTER

7 M A K I N G WO R K

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬ Was this real Utopia? Indeed no. It was realistic and its results left a mark on the community that worked together in such a way as to resume normal civil and productive lives without excessive damage and within a relatively short time. (Patuelli 1994: 45)

THE SPONTANEOUS COLLETTIVI World War II left deep scars in the soil, as well as on the people of Ravenna. The fields had been used as battlegrounds. Over four thousand hectares were mined, cultivation was abandoned on thirty thousand hectares, and large sections were submerged and disturbed by repeated bombardments. Alfonsine had been on the front lines for five months, and 70 percent of its houses as well as its town square were destroyed (Lucci 2017). There were cases of partisan revenge and personal vendettas against bosses and landlords with the idea of promoting a communist revolution (Crainz 1994a: 228). In the city of Ravenna there was “no gas, no lights, no water.” The collapse of the government provided a desperate need and opportunity for self-government. The first issue of Democrazia, the publication of the Committee for National Liberation (CLN), dated April 1, 1945, called for a “new sense of civil solidarity . . . a unity in suffering . . . that even if all the ills cannot be eliminated they can at least be rendered less acute so there can be hope for the future” (Patuelli 1994: 39, 14).

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In the fight against Nazi-Fascism, the Ravenna braccianti engaged in a dangerous guerilla struggle and rightfully became the protagonists in the reconstruction of agriculture and democracy. The CIA in the United States was aware of the communist orientation of the Red Belt and did not want to give the partisans too many arms; so they made sure to collect them after the war. The political orientation of the braccianti following World War II was overwhelmingly communistic. This was understandable given the situation of the economy. The cost of living had risen by 22 percent in fifteen months. New contracts for the old sharecropping system had been won, which increased the share of the product from 33 percent to 40–47 percent and decreased the share of expenses from 33 percent to 22 percent; but, as Baldini had said earlier, “the advantages won by the proletariat through resistance are easily taken away in the field of consumption” (Berselli 1966: 145). Communist Nello Patuelli, an orchestra musician and assessor of the Municipality of Ravenna, reached out to the Catholic president of the local CLN to rebuild what had been destroyed and to “promote a democratic consciousness among those who had believed, in good faith, in the ethics of fascism.” In reality, the local committee was left without help from the provincial committee, and although this split was a “sad story . . . there was so much solidarity, so much enthusiasm” that the local giunte populare (people’s groups) “became the point of reference of all social life: with selfishness to overcome, resistance to win over, difficulties to confront, consensus to win, and participation to promote” (Patuelli 1994: 38, 45, 40). While the large landowners demanded an “end to dividing up holdings and a beginning of the search for profitability” (Modoni 1966: 206), which was not so different from the fascist period slogan “la terra a chi ne è degno” or “land to those who are worthy [in the free market]” (Vöchting 1926: 400), the workers were still insisting on “Land to Those Who Work Her,” either to individual families or braccianti collectives. Spontaneous labor cooperatives (collettivi) not associated with the existing collectives arose in each individual locality immediately following the war. They elected leaders who spoke for the group and dealt with local growers and demanded that all of the land that was previously assigned individually to braccianti be assigned to them collectively. This is how the collective system of working together began in Ravenna. Until then, braccianti had always sharecropped individually and worked side by side for hourly wages or in squads on a piecework basis, even on the collective farms. After the war, the membership in the braccianti agricultural production cooperatives tripled and even quadrupled. Twice as many workers belonged to the Socialist/Communist labor unions as to all the others combined (table 7.1). Collective farms, labor unions, and the informal collettivi together forced the issue of socially beneficial land utilization. “Strikes in reverse” were held

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on farms whose owners wanted to “rational- TABLE 7.1. Membership in ize” production (figure 7.1). By 1969, the in- Agricultural Unions in the come to members on the collective farms in Province of Ravenna, 1947 Ravenna ranged from 190,000 to 250,000 lire Communist 20,626 per hectare, while the private capitalist farms Republican 6,057 paid only 80,000 to 90,000 lire per hectare. 4,134 Collectives belonging to the national “Red” Socialist 436 association of cooperatives, Legacoop, or Christian simply “the League,” with 14,000 hectares of Social Democrat 221 land in Ravenna (9 percent of the land in the Source: Modoni 1966: 256 province), provided 50 percent of braccianti income (Baldissari 1971: 10–11). Although collectives after World War II proved remarkably flexible in a devastated economy, their ability to expand employment is severely limited today. The fact is that the ability to “make work” in a Western capitalist country is dependent on market forces and the establishment of a profitable niche. The niche described herein no longer exists in Ravenna, but the basic principle of using resources in socially beneficial ways still applies. The land base that is the legacy of past generations going back to 1883 was the financial basis upon which a giant network of agro-industrial transformation cooperatives was built. It is still intact, but the current twenty-firstcentury goal has primarily become the protection of that patrimony (Pasini 2010). LAND OWNERSHIP, TYPE, AND USE One of the most interesting features of Ravenna in the 1970s was that the three main agricultural systems (the collective, large capitalist, and smaller family farms), which I sought to compare as a way of understanding how the collectives were able to “make work,” were a microcosm of three larger economic and political systems and ideas, interacting and competing in the same arena. It was because the collectives did things that large and small private farms didn’t or couldn’t do that they occupied an important niche in Ravenna society and economy in the 1970s. It could be said that the Ravenna collectives, in fact, could find their reasons for existence in the characteristics of the small and large privately owned agricultural systems. The large capitalist farms of Ravenna in the 1970s represented a prototype of the worldwide, capital-intensive “agri-biz” or “factories in the field” system that has had such a profound effect on wide-ranging phenomena, such as the shift of population from rural to urban; the “Green Revolution” and increased production of foodstuffs in terms of yield; the widespread develop-

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FIGURE 7.1. Women returning from strike, 1956 Photo courtesy of the Federation of Cooperatives

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ment of pesticide, herbicide, and fertilizer use; and the dependence on fossil fuels and machinery for food production—so-called “rational” production. The small privately owned family farms of Ravenna, in which capital and labor are said to be “in the same hands,” represented an effort (partially assisted by agrarian reform politics) to stem the tide of large-scale capitalist concentrations of wealth and power where industrial development was slow to absorb labor. Small farms, particularly in Ravenna’s appoderata, could be successful because of their ability to produce agricultural products requiring a great deal of labor that, for reasons of local history, were not produced in much quantity by large private farms. The collective farms of Ravenna were examined as a prototype of collectivized agriculture. Although there are many differences in the worldwide systems of collective farms in places like the former USSR, China, Israel, and Eastern Europe, there are basic economic and social concepts that are applicable to all. As a type of farm, the Ravenna collectives are intermediate between the large capitalist and the small capitalist models, in that they seek to achieve a balance between extensive, profit-making crops and intensive, labor-absorbing and wage-producing ones. At the crux of the matter of comparing the three types of farms in the 1970s were the issues of rural employment versus productivity. There were basically two types of land use, extensive and intensive, and by combining several sources of statistical data it became possible to discern patterns in the development of different crops. Over 50 percent of the land in the province of Ravenna was used for extensive, largely mechanized cereal crops and sugar beets, and 28 percent was devoted to intensive trees and other crops of a labor-absorbing nature. The extensive crops accounted for only 21 percent of the gross agricultural sales, whereas the intensive crops, with less land, made up 53 percent of the gross agricultural sales. Both types of crops were highly dependent on modern technology and capital investments, and the main differences between the two were that the extensive crops assured a secure profit with the least investment and the smallest risk. Produced as they were largely by machines, these crops left only a small amount of the “good” produced per hectare in the form of wages to the local population. They produced needed staples like wheat and sugar for the cities, money to pay for machines and petroleum products largely produced outside of the local economy and benefitting the large Italian industries, and, of course, profit for the owner of the farm. In contrast to the labor-reducing technologies employed in producing the extensive crops, the technology of the intensive fruit, vines, and vegetable crops absorbed labor. Whereas the former sought to produce the most with the least expense, the goal of the latter was to produce the most in terms

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of gross sales out of each unit of land. It is misleading to assume that laborintensive crops are not also capital-intensive. They produce a high level of gross sales per hectare and also involve greater risk in terms of weather and pests. Because such crops require a great deal of human attention, local people benefit in the form of wages spent locally, local industries of processing and marketing are stimulated, and local, national, and international consumers are provided with fruits and vegetables. In Ravenna, decisions about land use are most obviously based on the type of land, with the extensive crops being more naturally suited to the larga and the intensive to the appoderata. But as the larga began to dry out, the former swampland could begin to support the root systems of trees, and the geographical determinants became less rigid. In this case, the single most important factor in the allocation of the different crops was who owned the land. Using averages for labor input for the hectares devoted to different crops, it was possible for me to construct a theoretical analysis of the existing productive system in Ravenna in the 1970s. Not surprisingly, the analysis illustrated a high degree of underemployment. Whereas the agricultural population was over sixty thousand workers in the 1970s, there was only enough full-time work, theoretically, for twenty-two thousand. In this zone of underemployment, approximately half of all agricultural land was in the hands of private individuals or families who used hired labor, tenant farmers, or sharecroppers. This meant that, on half the land in Ravenna, the consumption (wages) side of the productive process was regarded as a “cost” of production rather than a “benefit” of production, and land use was planned in such a way as to maximize return on capital rather than labor invested. When the labor and other costs were added together and considered as costs of production, it was clear from my analysis that a private grower could make two cents more per hectare for each U.S. dollar spent by growing wheat than by growing fruit. The grower stood to make slightly less than four times that much, with slightly over four times the expense per hectare, if he or she decided to grow fruit. Production of fruit involved a great deal more risk, and before making the decision to invest, he or she would have had to ask three things: whether the land was not only good but superior, whether there was a secure labor force, and whether there could be a larger or more secure return on capital invested elsewhere. The fact that fruit production created jobs and wages was irrelevant. Primarily because of the militancy of labor, large private farms in Ravenna were fundamentally unsuited to intensive fruit production. This situation contrasts with agriculture in my home state of California, in which intensive fruit production is combined with large-scale ownership. In order for the California system to work, it had to be based on a steady flow of cheap seasonal labor, which historically allowed large growers to undercut prices

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of small orchardists while still maintaining profits. Without that cheap labor supply, the job of producing fruit might have fallen to the smaller family enterprises or even workers’ collectives, as in Ravenna. California ranchers spend millions of dollars to block legislation that would make it easier for farm workers to unionize. And over a half million acres went out of production when the Chinese were driven out of California (McWilliams 1939: 65, 72). A rancher who was a neighbor of mine in the small town of Ojai, near Santa Barbara, told me, “Without the Mexicans, the citrus industry would collapse.” In terms of land percentage devoted to labor-intensive crops, collectives in Ravenna appeared to have only slightly more (17.2 percent) than their large private counterparts (12.5 percent). This is misleading because farms were considered “large” for statistical purposes in Ravenna if they were over twenty hectares and if they employed labor. As a result, the amount of land devoted by large private farms to fruit was exaggerated, due to the inclusion of an unknown number of farms barely over twenty hectares in which the owner used hired labor for harvest, was too old to do all the work himself, or had no family left to help him. The 12.5 percent figure, apparently devoted to fruit on the part of large private farms, pooled together farms in the appoderata, which averaged only twenty-five hectares in size, and those in the larga, which averaged seventy-five hectares. Statistics for the province of Ravenna clearly show that as the size of farm went down, land use became progressively more intensive. Union figures revealed that even in one of the best places for growing fruit, the area surrounding the town of San Pietro in Vincoli to the south of the city of Ravenna, large farms devoted only about 10 percent of their land to fruit, whereas the average small farm of about five hectares devoted nearly 70 percent of its land to these crops. Comparing the amount of fruit on collectives to the total amount on private farms over twenty hectares using available statistics was unfair to collectives, since three-fourths of the collective land was situated in the larga while 60 percent of the land in the province belonging to private farms over twenty hectares was located in the appoderata. Over half of collective land was rented rather than owned, and longer-term investments (as in fruit trees) would logically be made on owned rather than rented land. Collectives in fact were more willing than private renters to invest in improvements on rented land (Vöchting 1926: 322). In the interest of making a comparison between large private, small private, and collective farms to show how collectives in Ravenna arranged their productive system to fill gaps left by these other systems and provide jobs during slow periods on the other farms, it was necessary to make distinctions and outline processes that were not apparent in the official statistics

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(table 7.2). Differing patterns of land use, levels of employment, and profit leapt out as I visited actual farms in Ravenna, making it understandable why collectives emerged and persisted as a labor-absorbing alternative, especially in the larga. In making these visits in the 1970s, I came to expect to be put on a farm scale and told that I should be fattened up with a good meal. (When I returned on several visits from 2010 to 2014 this did not happen, but they fed me anyway.) TABLE 7.2. Number of Farms in the Province of Ravenna, 2010

Year

Agricultural Population (% of Total Province Population)

Number of Farms

Hectares of Province (Surface Used for Agriculture)

13,289

55,856

23,717

1,397

27,007

24,207

33

14,305

Tenant

3,426

33,199

Other

122

107

18,267

130,474

8,369

80,862

18,077

575

20,561

3,113 full time

Collectives

7

14,423

12,524 occasional

Tenant

47

799

8,998

116,645

Type of Farm

1970 OwnerOperated Salaried or Sharecropping Collectives

Total (average size 7 ha.) 2010 OwnerOperated Salaried Labor

Days of Labor

13,656

10,853,577

61,580 (17.4%)

Other Total (average size 13 ha.)

 2,643,808

33,714 people (8.7%)

Source: 1970 census, tables 8, 10; 2010 Census (table 3.5) Note: 2010 Census calculation of the number of people who work full time in agriculture=13,000 (7.8 percent). At 288 days of work (Pretolani 2006), there was only enough work for 9,180. At 250 days, enough work for 10,575.

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WAGES AS AN UNDESIRABLE COST OF PRODUCTION ON THE LARGE PRIVATE FARMS A forty-nine-hectare farm in the intensive appoderata zone belonging for generations to the Brocchi family had two parts: one of eleven hectares still operated under the original tenant farm system, and the rest operated with wage labor following the exodus of other tenant families. A third segment had been sold to a “Red” collective. The balance sheets showed that the tenant farm system was exploitative of the tenants while not really benefitting the owners either. Because of the labor-intensive arrangement of production in the appoderata (mostly fruit and vines), the modernized segment of the farm was highly dependent on labor, and the labor cost at union scale was one-third higher per hectare than what the tenants received. The owner’s daughter, who managed the farm, said that if the workers continued to ask for pay increases they would just have to “close the gates.” Clearly, the labor-intensive arrangement of production on the Brocchi farm is less economically rational when the farm is owned by those who don’t do the work themselves, but it would be more so if the owners were also the workers. As Marvin Harris pointed out in his study of the “Sacred Cow” in India, that which is economically irrational to the Western agronomist is a matter of survival to the small Indian farmer. Large agribusinesses are our own “sacred cows” (Harris 1989b: 31–32). Comparison of the Brocchi balance sheet with the figures for an ideal farm of one hundred hectares obtained through the Ravenna Growers’ Association revealed significant differences. In terms of gross sales in dollars, the Brocchi farm would have to be considered substantially more productive. It produced gross sales of $1,229 per hectare, as opposed to the $944 on the ideal large private farm. Although it is the level of gross sales and not only the profit that could be considered the total “good” produced for the local economy, if a large grower can make $288 in profit per hectare with gross sales of only $944 as opposed to $256 in profit with gross sales of $1,229, it is obvious which he or she would choose. With the more labor-intensive arrangement, the investment is higher and the amount going to pay for labor is over twice as much. But bad weather, diseases, pests, and striking workers make it a riskier business. The problem, from the point of view of the workers, was best illustrated by visiting a model capitalist farm, the Azienda (“farm business”) Cavalli. At three hundred hectares, part in the larga and part in the appoderata, the Cavalli farm is large for the province of Ravenna. At one time it had been even larger, but part had been sold to tenant families, part expropriated by the Agrarian Reform, and all the remaining three hundred hectares was, in the 1970s, operated by wage labor. On either side of the road going through

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the farm were vast healthy fields of grain and sugar beets with an occasional tractor and driver in the distance. There were at least ten deserted homes of former tenant families. The kitchen gardens were gone, several dilapidated homes were boarded up, and others were used for storing cattle, feed, or machines. One housed the young farm manager and his wife and doubled as an office. According to the manager, all new investments were made on the basis of costs of production and profits. The most “rational” crop plan was not necessarily the one that yielded the highest gross income but the one that involved the least risk and a reasonable investment. According to union figures, a model large private farm like this would employ 130 man-hours per hectare, as opposed to a 303 average on the collective. The small family farm and farms like the one belonging to the Brocchi family would have even higher labor hours per hectare. “MAKING WORK” ON LABOR-INTENSIVE SMALL PRIVATE FARMS According to Article 44 of the Italian Constitution, dated December 22, 1947, “In order to secure rational utilization of the soil and to establish equitable social relationships, the law imposes obligations and limitations on private ownership of land, sets limits according to regions and agricultural zones, promotes and imposes land reclamation, the transformation of large estates, and the reconstitution of productive units” (Constitution of Italy 1947). A “productive unit” was defined as the area of land necessary and sufficient to provide full employment for a farmer and his family. In 1991, Giuseppe Barbero, an Italian economic sociologist and past president of the National Institute of Agricultural Economics (the Istituto Nazionale di Economia Agraria or INEA), produced a report in English with Eric Shearer for the World Bank on the Italian agrarian reform. In it, they found that although former tenant farmers were “some of the best family-farm managers that arose from the land reform . . . there is reason to suspect that the tractor represented perhaps the coup-de-grace for the system[,] . . . [and] an entire generation of Italians . . . [in 1991] is hardly aware that there had been such a reform.” They stated that “there can be little doubt that Italy’s policies and measures in support of the family farm were fully justified . . . [and that] such a judgment is of course reinforced by the entire EEC’s [European Economic Community’s] explicit choice of the family farm as the land tenure system to be backed by a multitude of incentives and expensive subsidies.” The subsidy for the 19,000 families (who received 253,000 hectares in all of Italy) was $220,000 (in 1991 U.S. dollars) for each, which “in retrospect . . . [was] excessive” (Shearer and Barbero

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1994: 12). The nationwide reform also distributed 29,000 hectares to 166 production cooperatives. Costs to the nation aside, I found the small family farm in Ravenna’s appoderata zone in the 1970s to be a valuable antidote to the type of land use practiced by the large landowners, especially where other sectors of the economy were slow to develop. In contrast to intensification, in which capital replaces labor—as was the goal on the Cavalli farm—small farmers relied on government loans to invest in trees and machines. When owned by a small family farmer, a machine does not eliminate the need for manpower but instead frees labor that can be used for some other purpose, such as fruits and vegetables. The Rivalta family, for example, obtained a small piece of the Cavalli farm that was expropriated during the agrarian reform of the 1950s. Mr. Rivalta’s parents and grandparents had farmed sixteen hectares on the Cavalli farm by the old methods. When farm operations were mechanized, the families were no longer needed and, except for a few of the more trustworthy, had been told to leave. As new owners, the Rivaltas were allotted five hectares with a thirty-year mortgage at 1–2 percent interest. Although this was only a third as much land as they had worked as tenants, they set about compensating for the effects of mechanization and less land by putting in as much fruit as possible, which “made work” for them for most of the year. In 2010, I returned to the Rivalta farm to discover that the Rivaltas’ young son—now grown up and who amazingly remembered my visit in the 1970s— currently owns and operates the farm. He has many new ideas about how to make it successful, including irrigation and frost prevention, and I have no doubt that he has the knowledge and drive to make this particular farm economically successful, even as others are struggling to hang on. As a young man he immigrated to New York City, where he learned English and worked on Wall Street as a broker. He was glad to leave the rat race to return to run the family farm. In talking to him about his goals for the farm, I had to realize that Erasmus was right about individual incentives being powerful motivators; but that doesn’t necessarily mean that other systems have no advantages and are destined for failure, or even that a young energetic entrepreneur will always succeed. The younger Mr. Rivalta is applying exactly the same kinds of technological know-how without which the Ravenna collectives could never have “made work” for members. Similar to the younger Mr. Rivalta’s goals for his farm in 2010, there were also atypical family farms in the 1970s. One belonged to an ex-tenant farmer and braccianti collective member named Cortesi, and another to a former member of a collective farm named Marchesi. Both managed to support a family nicely with brand new homes on less than three hectares. According to Cortesi, individual farming after belonging to a collective “is like going

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from the fifth grade back to the first—many small farmers who have farmed all their lives do not measure the hours of labor. They work sixteen hours per day and are satisfied if at the end of the year they don’t go into debt. They never consider developing a new idea.” Developing new ideas to provide work for himself and his family was Cortesi’s specialty. He said he took after his grandfather, who did everything to supplement family income from raising and selling flowers to making wooden sandals. Men like Cortesi listen to agricultural experts and plant varieties of peaches that bloom earlier or later, and by staggering their work schedule they won’t have to hire outside labor. Fruit from his labor-intensive fruit trees was sold through a “Red” cooperative, and Cortesi was able to keep himself and his wife busy throughout the year. He put one son through teacher’s college and sent the other to the university in Bologna to study sociology. The Marchesi family also proved that it was possible to make a nice living on two hectares in Ravenna. Starting out as a member of the Mezzano collective for over twenty years, Marchesi learned modern methods of producing fruit tree seedlings to be sold to local farms. With a loan from a local bank, Marchesi transformed his backyard into a nursery. He now has a new house and two trucks, and he employs four workers. A different story occurred for small farmers attempting to establish the same type of intensive agriculture in the larga with the help of the Reform/ Development Agency of the Po Delta (Ente Delta Padano/Ente Sviluppo Delta Padano). The agency was supposed to carry out the necessary transformations. That work was never completed to the farmers’ satisfaction, and because of the nature of the land in the larga, its use and development with labor and technology was extremely difficult for farms of only five hectares. At the time of the reform, inserting family-sized units was thought to be the only politically expedient way in which the rural consumption side of the productive process could be increased. It was the government’s way of helping individual families “make work” for themselves to provide for selfsufficiency and income. According to Shearer and Barbero, most of the reform recipients in the Po Delta were former occasional rural laborers without any experience in managing a farm. For political reasons, the reform agency had refused, in the 1950s, to allot the land in joint ownership to cooperatives of these laborers. However, in 1975 they succeeded in transferring, with the help of the [Government Development Agency], ownership of some plots to the precursor of the cooperative, for the first ten years in the names of individual members. (Shearer and Barbero 1994: 55)

According to Guido Crainz, the six thousand families and thirty-six thousand people who received forty thousand hectares of land (out of two hun-

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dred and sixty thousand) in the Po Delta with less than two hectares per worker “broke an already precarious equilibrium between braccianti and land[,] . . . broke networks of association[,] . . . [and resulted in] an extensive network of hierarchies and dependencies.” Many of the recipients were immigrants who came down from the mountains or from the south of Italy, and there were problems with nepotism in the distribution of land and collusion with machinery manufacturers. A government inquest in 1960 concluded that 30 percent of the recipients had abandoned their farms (Crainz 1994a: 250, 282, 253, 95, 259). The largest piece of land distributed by the agrarian reform in Ravenna was marshland at the mouth of the Lamone River. Subdivisions of this vast territory were made, houses built, and communities with rural social centers and bars set up so the recipients wouldn’t have to go so far to socialize. The reform agency organized sports events, movies, and card tournaments (which in Ravenna are not as dull as they sound). The new farmers were required to belong to service cooperatives set up by the reform agency to provide technical guidance. The objective of the reform was to “encourage individual will and promote the spirit of initiative and sacrifice of the reform recipients, giving them the capacity to form a farm adequate to family needs and elevate themselves to the class of small owners” (Stupazzoni 1968: 121). There were serious inadequacies with this approach, especially in Ravenna’s larga. According to Giorgio Stupazzoni, the large farm collective was the “best adapted to areas with population pressure” (ibid.). A university graduate in agricultural science from Bologna who couldn’t find a job and was working in a local bank gave me a term paper he had written on the subject of the agrarian reform, in which he said, First the politicians say small farming is the best way. Then they say that an efficient cooperative structure is necessary and make membership in the cooperative obligatory for reform recipients. The recipients are allowed to elect four people to help direct the cooperative but the government must appoint three more to safeguard its financial investments. Then they dictate everything to the farmer and are constantly looking over his shoulder. Is he really the entrepreneur or is he deluded into thinking he is?

Even at the time of the reform, there were misgivings about trying to divide up land that had always been worked in large blocks. Some of the land sharecropped by local braccianti collectives was earmarked for the reform, and the director of the collective told the recipients, “Guardate (watch out or you’ll see). In ten years you won’t know what to do with that poderino (tiny farm).” There were twenty-seven thousand hectares of land formerly worked by braccianti in Ferrara, and forty-two thousand in the entire Delta,

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that were taken by the agrarian reform for division into small family farms (Crainz 1994b: 251). By the 1970s, twenty-five years after the reform, some of the former agrarian reform recipients were among the poorest families in the lowlands of the province of Ravenna. A look at these farms, only five kilometers from the city of Ravenna in a small hamlet called Ca’Bosco (House of the Forest), clearly showed that it was a combination of the inadequacy of the family-farm system in tackling the problems of the larga, and the indifference of the large private farms in that zone to the needs of the rural population, that explain Ravenna’s uniquely successful collective adaptation. The farmers themselves were eloquent in talking about the misery experienced on those farms. According to an ex-tenant farmer, policeman, and agricultural laborer named Mario Lombardini, who attained his farm as a result of a bribe to an agrarian reform official in 1949, History after 1945 isn’t written. It’s like an open wound. Before the 1949 reform we were all braccianti in this area. Then the reform came and we were given this piece of land and were left with the problem of come se fa mangiare (how were we going to feed ourselves). We were left isolated to solve our own individual problems. We didn’t care if our neighbor failed. We were too tired to go out in the evenings to the bar. We had to pay twice for this farm because the reform agency didn’t carry out the transformations they said they would and which were included in the price we paid. We protested but to no avail. The Ente (the reform agency) and the government are one and the same. The Christian Democrat assegnatari (reform recipient) suffers, but he doesn’t say anything because those are his people up there in power. Both the Republican and Christian Democrat politicians tell us “mangiare questa minestra o saltare di quella finestra” (eat what we give you or go jump out the window). (Lombardini 1972)

The Lombardini farm was typical of the small family farms in the larga. On this farm of four and a half hectares, a large portion of the earnings went to pay for fertilizer and machines, and Lombardini figured that he worked for below union wage. Although they had a nice new home attached to the old one, the small farm they worked so hard to develop, with 22 percent fruit, 22 percent vines, 20 percent sugar beets, 15 percent forage, and 20 percent wheat, will probably be obsolete by the time they retire. Small-farm families probably exploited themselves more with sixteen- hour days than they exploited the braccianti they had to hire for help (Maz­ zoni 1946: 51). Speaking about the reform, people mention that it is especially the women, who had been previously accustomed to life in the braccianti suburbs, who suffered the most. Once on the family farms, they no longer spoke out as equals. Young people, too, complain of the lack of a social life and domination by their fathers. The family-farm system in Ravenna, as elsewhere, is a patriarchal arrangement.

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Although the family farmers I talked to complained more than the braccianti, one farmer told me to take the complaints with a grain of salt because it was the “nature” of the Italian farmer to complain, even when things were going well. The small-farm system, he said, could counteract the deficiencies of scale by developing cooperatives for machines, purchasing, and selling. Family farms can be highly efficient in Ravenna, where farmers could get ahead in 1973 with less than a fourth of the land recommended by the European Common Market Mansholt Plan (one person per twenty hectares). By putting in 30 percent more labor than the large private grower and 10 percent more than the collective, the small private farmer could reap 500 quintals of sugar beets instead of 400 on the large private farm or 408 on the collective. Figures for the cooperative wine cellar at Bagnacavallo indicated that family farms produced seven quintals per hectare more fruit than the collective, although we do not know how much labor was put in or the quality of the land. Some of the more individualistic family farmers don’t like the idea of cooperatives and prefer to take their chances with the merchants. One informant stated, One of my neighbors went into the marketing cooperative, and after a while he said that the cooperative was all right but he wasn’t the owner of his product anymore. I said, “Do you earn more or less?,” and he replied, “More,” and then I said, “Well, you are more padrone then.” People let themselves get eaten by the commercianti (traders) just so they can feel free.

As a rule, small farmers in the 1970s found it much easier to cooperate in selling their product jointly than in the shared use of land, machines, or animal husbandry facilities. Farmers had to make high payments with interest on machines that may be used only sixty hours out of the year, and it is known that the cost of machines jumps greatly if they are underused. To make matters worse, someone might point to an expensive machine and say that it was purchased with the anticipation of being reimbursed by government funds that never arrived. Everyone agrees that the only sensible thing to do would be to purchase machines together, but everyone needs them at the same time and no one wants his fields to be prepared too early or too late. One farmer recognized the folly in this, but said, “What can you do? We know that we should buy machines together but facciamo la gara [we race] to get them anyway. With all these machines we do a service to capitalism. We make a little money and then buy TVs, which makes us spend some more.” Another problem of the small farm is that of animal husbandry. Reduction in forage fields as a consequence of expansion of fruit means that forage has to be imported; and although the ex-tenant farmers who got farms during

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the reform proved capable of managing cows, ex-braccianti complained of never having a day off to take a Sunday outing or a vacation. The small farmers say, “Eventually we will build a large stalle sociale [cooperative barn] that will house all of our cattle from this immediate area. Each farmer will bring a certain amount of fodder, and the job of caring for the beasts will be rotated among us.” Perhaps the most discouraging result of the use of resources by the small family farms in Ravenna is the interference in the productive process by the family cycle. To see all the hard work put in by one generation bulldozed down, when they have no children remaining and are forced to sell, is a tremendous waste of human effort. From the point of view of the economy as a whole, the persistence of small-farm units, in which production is arranged according to a family’s short-term needs, is an expensive way of concealing underemployment. Society is called upon to subsidize the small-farm system, to pay for its overmechanization and waste of machinery, to pay for its overintensification and waste of land, and to pay for the importing of necessities not produced on the wasted land. No one argues that the underemployment found on the family farm in Ravenna is a good thing. The average-size family farm in Ravenna, even in the 1970s, could not make it without sending at least one member to work outside the farm, doing something like house painting, industrial work, or domestic service. With nearly half of the land in Ravenna in control of these small family farmers, even in the 1970s the government paid for fruit trees to be uprooted in order to maintain an adequate price. THE COLLECTIVE FARMS’ “MAKING WORK” NICHE In Ravenna, the agrarian reform after World War II fell far short of meeting the needs of a large underemployed agricultural labor force, which consisted of twenty-seven thousand families with ninety thousand unemployed or underemployed workers (Rinaldi and Alberti 2011: 21–25). There were an estimated sixty thousand braccianti at the time of the post–World War II agrarian reform (the “Green Plan I”). The Reform Agency established slightly over six thousand farms of around six hectares each for 3.3 labor units, which would theoretically provide for less than twenty thousand workers. One could, therefore, make a good argument for a worker-managed system of production, which would seek to increase rural standards of living through part-time employment on an economically efficient large farm using some of the tactics developed by small farmers for increasing gross sales (table 7.3). This is exactly what the collectives did, with an average of 1.25 hectares per worker. The collective farms that preceded the agrarian reform are still

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TABLE 7.3. Gross Agricultural Sales and Land Use in the Province of Ravenna, 1961–2014 Grass Crops

Fruit, Vines, Vegetables

Animal Products

31%

43%

26%

Percent of Gross Sales

21%

53%

26%

Percent of Province Land

57%

28%

331,000 lire= €2,531.54 in 2000 Euro €3,290 in 2015 Euro= $3,707.13 2015 USD

577,000 lire= €4,412.99 in 2000 Euro €5,734.27 in 2015 Euro= $6,461.07 2015 USD

Percent of Gross Sales

22%

70%

Percent of Province Land

67%

33%

€1,900

€8,071

$2,452.50

$10,417.97

1961 Percent of Gross Sales 1971

Gross Sales/ Hectare 1969 INEA 2014

Gross Sales/ Hectare Gross Sales/ Hectare 2015 USD

8%

Source: Almanacco Ravennate, 1972; Ravenna Chamber of Commerce 2014; INEA; ISTAT

operating. Because of the reduction in numbers of agricultural workers, the member/land ratio is now twenty-five hectares per member. Vöchting, who observed the success of Ravenna’s collective farms in the 1920s, attributed their good results to excellent direction and advanced mechanization, even though they had poor land, poor harvests, sharecropping contracts, and (he said) lack of supervision, discipline, and “mentality” of the workers. He said that the collectives showed “that profit is not necessary” and even noted, contrary to his own fascist predisposition, that an egalitarian culture, solidarity, working-class consciousness, ideology, and cooperative “spirit” had emerged on Ravenna’s low plain (Vöchting 1926: 330, 312). Local historian and former mayor of Ravenna (1993–97) Pier Paolo D’Attore made an interesting observation about the influence of this working-class ideology on the college-educated agricultural technicians who

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played a crucial role in the ability of the Ravenna collectives to “make work.” I could not help but put this high on my list of reasons for success. Technicians I met were dedicated to their work and felt the job they were doing was important for social justice. Guido Brighi, for example, was a local boy who studied agriculture at the University of Bologna, proved himself in one of the weakest collectives of the province, and moved up in the hierarchy of the Federation of Cooperatives where he could use his talents advising all thirtythree “Red” collectives. Mario Tampieri, a former president of the Provincial League of Cooperatives in Ravenna, commissioned a large study of oral histories of members and technicians. Those personal stories illustrate the importance of ideological commitment to members and managers who spent their lives working on Ravenna’s braccianti collectives (Guerra 2014). D’Attore’s point was that this group of technicians, who were steeped in the egalitarian culture and working-class solidarity of Ravenna’s low plain, became “a new generation of technically qualified entrepreneurs that submerged their traditional agrarian individualism to become involved in dynamic and innovative cooperative organizations that guided the industrialization of agriculture, its integration with other productive sectors, and the transition to organic and other new forms of agriculture” (D’Attore 1998: 340). Unlike the case of the managers of the worker-owned plywood companies studied by Carl J. Bellas in 1972, which led to a “my bag is always packed” attitude (1972: 54), technical directors of the Ravenna collectives in the 1970s received considerable support from the strong, vertically integrated organization that provided technical assistance and financing as well as opportunities for advancement and recognition in their careers. Regarding the well-educated grandson of founder Nullo Baldini, one member said, “When he [the director] can go home at five and wash his hands of our problems, he doesn’t. He is here on into the evenings and even on Sundays. We don’t even have to tell him how much we need to work. He knows already.” A second factor on my list of reasons for the Ravenna collectives’ success in “making work” was that they were a response, as I concluded in my 1970s study, to “chronic, widespread, partial unemployment.” Agriculture in Ravenna was rich; it just couldn’t support such a large number of underemployed workers, and although the development of small artisan industries in the “Third Italy” provided sources of family income that enabled survival of small family farming in central Italy (Povellato 2012: 189), other economic sectors did not advance as fast as needed. A symbiotic relationship developed between the landless laborers and small private farmers, two classes of rural workers that are often at odds with each other. Collectives could count on members being partly employed on the family farms, and the cooperation between collectives and family farms arguably made possible the survival of the small farms, through their participation in the large transformation and

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marketing cooperatives formed on the initiative of and with financing by the large collective farms. There was also what could be described as a parasitic relationship between collectives and the large private farms. Because of effective worker union organization and resistance, collectives were able to continually increase possession of land on which they were able to “make work” for their members. In Ravenna, a measure of the capacity of any farm to absorb labor in the 1970s was the amount of investments made in intensive fruits and vineyards; individual collectives varied from only 11 percent of their land in fruit on the braccianti collective of Ravenna in the larga, to 28 percent on the Lavezzola collective in the zone of old reclamation, and finally to 41 percent on the collective of Bagnacavallo, which is high and dry in the old appoderata zone. According to Brighi, any more than 30 percent of the agricultural land devoted to fruit and vineyards (the 1973 level was 28 percent) would bring about a shortage of labor in the summer months (1971: 32). Besides, the real unemployment problem in Ravenna in the 1970s was not during thinning and harvesting times, when braccianti could work on the family farms, but in the other periods of the year. The Ravenna collectives took this into account by guaranteeing labor to the small farms during peak periods and by rearranging their own productive system (figure 7.2) to provide work during off seasons and lulls during the summer months—in Brighi’s words, “diversifying to produce an arc of products” (Brighi 1972). 
 
 
 
 


 


 

FIGURE 7.2. Effect of introduction of new sugar beet seed on employment in 1972 Source: Braccianti Cooperative of Piangipane

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All of the new employment opportunities designed to stagger the workload by the Ravenna collectives required capital expenditures. These included development of the cooperative wine cellars and fruit-packing plants (which enabled braccianti to enter different phases of production), expanding new vegetable and strawberry crops from 91 hectares in 1969 to 650 in 1971, and building new irrigation systems and greenhouses (figure 7.3). Such investments were out of reach for the small private farms. As of the 1970s, collectives had even surpassed large private farms in non-labor intensive profit-making activities such as animal husbandry, and there is the added difference that profit from such activities on the collective was used to develop new employment opportunities. Many of the “passive” crops, which barely broke even with a high level of gross sales and paying over a thousand U.S. dollars in wages per hectare, were planted after a profitable crop was harvested. Only a few hectares devoted to such crops could have a substantial effect on the standard of living of the rural people. When “profit” goes into expanding employment opportunities, it compensates for the disruption in human lives that occurs every time a new machine or technique is introduced. Agricultural technicians on Ravenna’s collective farms recognize that employment problems cannot be solved by an expansion of crops designed, as      

 




  


  

FIGURE 7.3. Relationship between mechanization expense and increase in labor hours on collective farms in the larga in 1972 Source: Compiled from League of Cooperatives data in 1972

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one technician told me, to fare lavorare i soci (allow the members to work). And according to Otto Schiller, there are important differences between the employment-oriented strategies of collectives and small farms. He says that collectivization “brings underemployment out into the open rather than concealing it, and . . . [it is] a psychological fact that human beings may be more ready to accept a low standard of living if they are together within a family enterprise than if they are together in a joint enterprise” (Schiller 1969: 27). The collective is no panacea for rural problems, magically making work independent of market forces. There have been cases of failure due to bad and even dishonest management. And even more than other types of enterprises, the success of collectives is intertwined with the general economy. If a collective cannot expand when it needs to, it can devote a few hectares to labor-absorbing crops, but it cannot support an increasing membership on a piece of land that is made continually smaller with the advent of new agricultural techniques. A collective can actually do only slightly more than distribute the onus of unemployment equally among members. Essentially, this means making agriculture a part-time job for many people. But throughout the history of collectives in Ravenna, at least from 1883 to 1973, the “little” that the Ravenna collectives were able to add to the income of agricultural workers in this capitalist economy made the difference between abject poverty and, as they say in Ravenna, a lifestyle that is discreto (moderate). Although collectives historically had a strong socioeconomic basis for landless laborers from Ravenna and the impoverished hills, because of their success in “making work” they also appeared in the 1970s to have an increasingly sound basis as other agriculture-related and extra-agricultural areas of the economy began to absorb labor. Under the old tenant farming system, which was widespread throughout Italy, women and old men worked alongside the young men, but with the advent of modern agriculture and industrialization many people became unemployed. However, on the thirty-five thousand acres controlled by Ravenna’s collectives, land was used to provide part-time income to people (mainly women) who would otherwise no longer be included in the workforce. That these women would not be in the workforce is demonstrated by the inflated percentage of the Ravenna population still engaged in agriculture as opposed to the national average (26.6 as opposed to 19.8 in 1973), as well as the high number of women relative to men, especially in the municipality of Ravenna where collectives are oldest and largest (47.3 percent female as opposed to 25.3 percent in EmiliaRomagna as a whole). According to my study in the 1970s, collectives (depending on the zone) used up to four times the amount of labor of the model large private farm.

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Unlike the small family farm in the larga, the collective did so without resulting in an excessively low profitability per hour of labor or per dollar spent. But the small farmer would not be impressed by the higher profitability of labor or capital on the collective. The Ballardini family, for example, wrote to me after I left Italy to say that they had left the collective and purchased their own small farm (where they could work more but possibly earn less per hour of labor). This brings up the question as to whether collectives really do have a sound economic basis in “making work” in Ravenna, if small family farms are more successful in absorbing labor. The answer, as I said in my 1970s study, is “that even with their own small farm, this family and others like them will have to struggle to keep up with the increasing standard of living of the braccianti families, who are freer to take extra-agricultural jobs while some members remain in the collective.” In the 1970s, I wrote that “in ten years, the grandmother and grandfather will doubtless be incapable of contributing much labor, and chances are that the two children who are small now will not take their grandparents’ places on the farm.” I was wrong about the grandparents, who—forty years later, at ninetyfour years of age—were still productive members of the family, and I was also wrong about the standard of living. (I also thought that anyone over fifty was really, really old.) I seriously underestimated the tenacity, ingenuity, and capacity for hard work and savings of the small-farm family. The only thing I was right about was my “impression gained from meeting these delightful children . . . that they will have a variety of careers from which to choose.” Unlike the Ballardini family from the more remote town of Longastrino, who depended entirely on the collective until purchasing their own farm, the Bartoletti family, whom I stayed with in the town of Carraie close to the city of Ravenna, exemplified the advantage of collectives in “making work” in areas where other employment opportunities were more numerous. My hostess’s husband was a barber, and her neighbor and closest friend’s husband was a stonemason. Both of their homes were completely modern and mortgage free. By any standard, they would have to be considered frugal, and I was surprised when my hostess spent her entire year’s earnings in two days on a new custom-tailored dress to wear to the Festa de l’Unità (the week long fund-raising party for the newspaper of the Italian Communist Party) and a new furniture ensemble for her living room. The next day we drove into the hills to see Mussolini’s crypt where we ate in a nice trattoria (restaurant) and danced the polka until after dark. All of this was affordable because of the wives’ work in the collective, but credit also belongs to the previous generations of cooperators. Without them, the “make work”–oriented collectives would not have existed.

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“MAKING WORK” TODAY AND IN THE FUTURE It can safely be said that the Ravenna collectives successfully fulfilled their historic mission. In 1951, 43 percent of Italians were still in the agricultural sector, as opposed to 30 percent in France and 23 percent in Germany. In the Po Delta, seven hundred thousand agricultural workers went on strike in 1949, demanding agrarian reform and “Land to Those Who Work Her” (Crainz 1994a: 241). From 1951 to 1965, the agricultural population in Italy dropped from eight million to four million. Members of farm families left for the city in a steady stream. That exodus in Ravenna, in comparison with the south of Italy, was slower and, except in the aftermath of severe floods, was more a result of the pull of urban and suburban jobs than the push of rural poverty. While some former collective members purchased their own farms, something that was beneficial to them in terms of absorbing more of the family’s labor, the number of small owner-operated farms has decreased, and only 3.9 percent of Italians nationwide are still engaged in agriculture. The cooperative movement in Ravenna, by “making work” on the agricultural production cooperatives and by developing a powerful network of other cooperatives, made the transition from rural to urban life less painful and kept emigration to a lower level than elsewhere in Italy. By the 1970s, when I first went to Ravenna, there were still many women and old people who depended on the collectives for unspecialized manual part-time jobs. Collectives “made work” for these workers, which benefitted their families and the local economy. But as ingenious as the “make work” efforts of the braccianti collectives I visited in the 1970s were, I recognized even then that they could not continue to be successful indefinitely if the population of agricultural workers kept growing, if mechanization constantly increased the amount of land needed to provide employment for each worker, if other sources of employment (on the small farms, in the “Third Italy,” and in other sectors) did not continue to make part-time agricultural work an essential source of family income, if the prices for agricultural products did not continue to grow, or if public funding and laws did not create opportunities. From 1960 to 1970, union wages for agricultural work increased by 150 percent, in large part because of joint efforts between the unions, collectives, and left-wing political parties and governments. Collectives continued to increase employment during this period, while private farms decreased it to the minimum. At the end of the 1970s, Roberto Fanfani, professor of economics at the University of Bologna, conducted a study of the Sant’Alberto braccianti collective on the old Maracabò estate. The study determined that, if the members wanted to continue to maintain the strawberry operation, then salaries would have to decrease by 10 percent (Fanfani 2012). At an-

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other period in the life of these organizations, as when braccianti took only firewood as compensation for reclamation work on the Maracabò, this sacrifice would not have been too much to ask. But, as was explained to me by a former collective member, the success of the collectives in modern times depended on their ability to at least pay union wage. This is something that the large private farms are avoiding by using illegal immigrant labor. Fanfani’s study seemed to mark the beginning of the end, at least for a while, of “making work” on the Ravenna collectives. After 1980, in order to streamline operations and cut administrative costs, the thirty-three collective farms of the 1970s were merged into seven. Retired members I talked to in the town of Carraie were not happy about this. However, looking at the big picture, by 2011 braccianti collectives managed 13,138 hectares, 90 percent (11,874 hectares) of which is owned. In 1980, they managed 17,584 hectares, but only 54 percent (9,452 hectares) was owned. In 2011, 10.5 percent of the agricultural land in the province of Ravenna was under collective management. In 1980 there were 8,154 members with only 2.16 hectares per member, and in 2011 there were only 521 members remaining, with 25.22 hectares per member. In 1980, the percentage of land devoted to intensive fruit and vineyards was 20.6 percent, and in 2011 only 5.7 percent. Grass crops now account for 84.9 percent of the collective land surface, and 9.4 percent is devoted to organic production, reforestation, and restoration of marshlands. There are 1,700 heads of cattle (beef and dairy), two agricultural tourism and conference centers, and new initiatives in biogas and photovoltaics (Pasini 2012). The number of labor hours per hectare of land in 1980 was 284, which had decreased from the 303 in the 1970s—but by 2011 the number of hours per hectare was only 46. This is essentially half of the labor on the large private farms in the larga in the 1970s that were pressured by the unions to increase investments in labor-absorbing crops or run the risk of strikes and occupation of land. Today’s goals are to continue to contribute to the local economy as they have always done, add new entrepreneurial initiatives, and focus on sustainable food production, managing natural resources, addressing climate change, and contributing to balanced regional development (P. Pasini 2012, personal communication, June). Since there are now so few agricultural laborers left, the collectives hire seasonal workers, mostly from Eastern Europe, for harvesting. If these workers were to set up permanent residence, they should in theory be able to apply for membership. But because of mechanization and the globalization of markets, their share of employment would be negligible. The prices of agricultural products are the same as they were thirty-five years ago, although wages, of course, have risen with inflation and the cost of living. If the collectives tried to “make work,” they would soon have to sell land. In

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such a dire situation, no one could blame them for not being able to focus on expanding employment. Despite this reality, there are many who think that the collectives could do more to “make work.” Giovanni Errani, the former CEO of Terremerse, a large second-degree cooperative, told me that he thought collective land should be put in a “land bank” where it could be farmed by aspiring young farmers (Errani 2014). The “land bank” idea is also being developed in New York’s Hudson Valley to ensure that farmland is protected and made more affordable for next-generation farmers. There is another important reason that collective farms no longer “make work.” According to D’Attore it is that no one, not even private farmers, makes decisions about agriculture anymore because of the “dissolution of the farm as a unit of production, residence, and consumption.” The small farmer, with his or her remarkable capacity for self-sacrifice and savings and individualistic entrepreneurial qualities that my professor Erasmus thought were so important in stimulating economic growth, has no ability to do anything other than continue to sacrifice to hold onto land and homes. In fact, “the domination exercised by technology has provoked the end for all practical purposes of the technical autonomy of the farm . . . [and] the primary beneficiary of this transformation is the agro-industrial complex . . . of private multi-nationals [and] networks of cooperatives and consortia who are capable of influencing every aspect of the nation’s agriculture” (D’Attore 1998: 340–41, 332). The market now imposes all decisions. Industry provides farms with the technical means, and farmers are contractually obligated to confer set amounts of sugar beets, tomatoes, milk, and other products. A third of the farmer’s gross income goes to pay for mechanization. Productivity in many cases has tripled, largely due to increased use of petrochemicals (herbicides, fertilizers, pesticides), which D’Attore says have been “forced” into agriculture by a particularly “aggressive” industry. The aquifers are becoming polluted, and excessive chemicals tied to animal husbandry are entering the groundwater and food chain. Instead of supporting agricultural entrepreneurs who are organized and active farm managers, the policies of the European Common Market have favored a new kind of absenteeism “tied to pure speculation and brief cycles of production” (ibid.: 335, 341). After Italy’s entry into the European Economic Community in 1957, policies shifted from the establishment of small, owner-occupied self-sufficient farms to the promotion of modern and efficient market-oriented enterprises. This benefitted capitalist farms over fifty hectares, and the small farmers did not get the support they needed to modernize. D’Attore’s opinion is that there was a “continuation of fascist policies . . . of land reclamation . . . and low taxes,” and to that I would add the favoring of industry over agriculture and the emphasis on quantity, as opposed to quality, of agricul-

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tural production. Small farms gained nine hundred thousand hectares in the post–World War II agrarian reform but lost over a million hectares between 1960 and 1970. By 1982, 40 percent of the owners of small farms were over sixty years old (ibid.: 336–38). By 2010, 49 percent were between forty and sixty-five years old, and 44 percent were over sixty-five years old (Benini and Pezzi 2011: 14). The result has been that Italian agriculture is not meeting the food needs of the country and that the sector has become subsidized, not for support of productive activity or growth but by social welfare benefits. According to D’Attore, 60 percent of government funding for agriculture goes toward social security payments, and in the 1981 census 20 percent of Italy’s farms fit into that category (D’Attore 1998: 339). These days, instead of collectives “making work” largely to support underemployed workers in rural areas, the government is supporting underemployed small farmers. As numbers of braccianti decreased, the cooperative movement first became more aligned with the needs of the small farmers through the development of cooperatives of transformation and marketing, and it is now seemingly more aligned with the needs of consumers for lower prices and with farms that can deliver standard products at the lowest cost. As for the collectives, in order to reduce the very real risk of losing money and land, they now preserve the patrimony by strategies that include renting out a limited amount of land (1,406 hectares or 11.8 percent) to private farmers, including to my friend Andrea Bersani, the “Tomato King” of Longastrino. His daughters manage the farm, which is completely mechanized as a result both of his own know-how and of favorable loans to owner-operated farms. The farm only has eleven employees, and it uses cooperatives for marketing and transformation of products. There are no unemployed or underemployed agricultural workers threatening to occupy their land or trying to force them to put in fruit trees or vines. Just as the production of rice came and went in Ravenna, vineyards are being removed, and the agricultural landscape continues to change with new crops replacing old as dictated by global markets. From the perspective of the current residents of communities such as Longastrino, it seems that collectives no longer exist. Does it matter to them that previous generations did not have to emigrate to find work and that the rural communities are still intact? Does it matter to them that the land they acquired collectively through struggle can no longer “make work” for the underemployed because of the economics of mechanization and globalization? Do they think that the collectives today are not being creative enough to develop new ways of “making work” for those who need work? Does it matter to them that land that could have gone into the collective went instead to agrarian reform recipients who, through hard work and initiative, accumulated more land by buying land from those who failed? What dif-

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ference is there between land that is now owned and operated privately on large farms and collective land that seems, for all intents and purposes, to be operated identically? I found that it does still matter to some, because of memories of the unfairness of the politics of agrarian reform and also because of the current policies of the European Economic Community, which encourages the expansion of some farms at the expense of others. Although there is no doubt that, thanks to the collectives, previous generations of farmworkers got the part-time jobs they needed, in view of the current situation in which there is little difference between a large private farm and a collective, one has to wonder: Is it unfair that previous generations, unlike the small farmers, were not able to benefit from the increasing value of the land? Was it enough that the investments they made gave them jobs? Should the role of the collectives still be to increase employment? If so, who for? Although those questions may be unanswerable, the following chapter will address the subject of worker management and evaluate efforts to compensate workers for the fair value of what they contributed by the sweat of their brows.

CH A PTER

8 WOR K I N G TO G ET H E R

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬ The dependence of production cooperatives on the self-exploitation of members can be seen in two ways. It can be seen as confirmation of the failure of the cooperative ideal and severe limitation of egalitarian aspirations within an economic system characterized by the capitalistic exploitation of labor. But from another point of view, production cooperatives can be seen as economic enterprises that demonstrate an extraordinary capacity of adaptation to situations of great difficulty without losing their characteristic of solidarity. (Landi 1998: 73)

N

ear the beginning of my research in 1972, I met with a group of sixty-year collective veterans in the town of Sant’Alberto on the bank of the Reno River, near the northern boundary of the province on what was the old Marcabò estate. Some remembered working there as teens on the initial reclamation in 1912, taking only firewood for their pay. Nullo Baldini thanked them for working without pay and was sorry to have to ask that of them, but someone said that it was they who should thank him because now, when they went to work, they went as owners instead of landless laborers. In talking to me about this, they hoped that something they said would help others see the value of cooperation. The gist of the conversation was as follows: Now that we are old and cannot work anymore, what use do we have of the land? We don’t need so much money either because now that we are old and can buy whatever we want to eat we are too old to digest it. We can see the old people over there in those miserable houses made by the agrarian riformetta (little reform). Their children are gone and if they want to sell, the government takes most of the money. It is better

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that our land remains as it is, undivided, so that it will always be there for new generations of braccianti who come to work. The important thing is that the land is used to benefit whoever needs and wants to work on it. We Romagnols have the tradition of working together. We don’t need to divide up the land. In our dialect the word upereri meaning operaio (worker) is the same for one or for many. That is because we know that together we are strong.

These recollections come from notes taken down in the framework of a dialectical Italian language by a neophyte anthropologist trying to learn the language and happy and relieved to get any of the substance down on a page. But in re-reading and reflecting on these notes many years hence, phrases and concepts virtually leap out from this hastily scribbled data: “Ownership of the land is unimportant except insofar as it is the legacy to the future. It must be preserved for the future, and dividing it up would endanger this future. Worker means one or many, indivisible.” These concepts leap out because they seem to ask: how many places and people do we know where we hear such talk and such concern for the unborn and for the soil? It was a theme repeated again and again in the fabric of Ravenna farm worker life in the 1970s—their solidarity and collective ownership of the land were the foundation and future of their security. Maria Grazia Feletti and Santino Pasi conducted oral history interviews with people who participated in the reclamation of the Marcabò. One woman described working at ten years of age under the stick of the padrone, and others said there was a lot of anger against “those who command.” Food sources (a steady diet of eels, wild mushrooms, wild artichokes, pine nuts, and blackberries) were “poached” from marshland that “was so vast, so large, there was place for everyone” (Feletti and Pasi 1981: 6–33). PARTICIPATION A tour of the Mezzano braccianti collective in 1972 showed it to be highly diversified and conducted in an undivided manner. Groups of women on hands and knees seemed to be silent as they moved quickly along rows of sugar beets, taking no notice of the young anthropologist who was about to join them. In another field, men drove flatbed trucks slowly through rows of peach trees, systematically pruning branches into a neatly shaped pattern. Maintaining the drainage canals occupied a few men on the peripheries of the field. Other men in tractors prepared still another area for planting grain. There was lots of work to be done in the greenhouse, from picking the fat hothouse strawberries—experimented with for the first time in 1972—to caring for seedlings that would be sold to small private farmers or planted the following year on collective land.

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Work was done in squads. The supervisor was an old man with arthritis elected by the Cooperative’s General Assembly. An estimate is made of the amount of time a job should take per hectare. Women known to be fast workers were placed in each squad, since they had found that the quickest worker in each group sets the pace. All fruit was put into large boxes at the end of each row, a more efficient practice than on private farms where workers kept their own separate boxes and were paid by the box. Nobody wants to be left behind, because that means being left out of the jokes and gossip that make the work more pleasant; but, as the anthropologist found out, if you skipped a few strawberries in order to catch up with the others, it was bound to be discovered by someone who would tell you it is better to go slower and pick the fruit carefully because “we” need the money. If a woman is slow but careful, another who is stronger and quicker will help her with her row so that all can move along at the same pace. No one wants to be thought of as a malingerer. If an able-bodied woman does not pull her weight, everyone would think she had some sort of a mental problem. If someone is old or sick, there is no calculation on the part of the others as to her lower productivity. In the case of the men, who generally work with farm machinery, the machine sets the pace. To operate a machine incorrectly could result in losing the privilege of using it. A man’s relationship with these machines is a serious matter, and they take pride in their work, so much so that on festive occasions men will compete with each other in public displays of tractor maneuvering. The mechanization of agriculture brought the need for a skilled labor force. According to collective regulations, all work is equally divided among those possessing a certain union qualification. In the course of my study in the 1970s, approximately one hundred members were asked if they thought that the person who was best at a certain job should get to do it permanently instead of rotating it. The usual response was, “It is just the way things have traditionally been done in Ravenna. I go to work one day, and the next person goes the next day. We have to take turns.” Another common response, which made me feel embarrassed by my “California” lack of collective spirit, was, “Do I have the right to prevent another from working? Others have to eat too. How would they eat if I did?” In 2012, a former member who now owns his own farm told me exactly the same thing. Despite the high ideals, there were differences in the participation of members on the collectively managed land. Those who knew how to do more jobs worked more. Members strictly insisted that at the end of the year all those available for work should have an equal number of days according to their level of specialization. If a job became one that had to be done year round, seven days a week by one or two people—such as the care and feed-

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ing of the cows—the people who had this job could no longer be members since the job was not rotated. As of the 1970s, women were beginning to take the course offered for specialization in the pruning of fruit trees, a job traditionally reserved for men. In the past, women were excluded for fear of trees not bearing fruit. This was still going on in the 1970s in the areas where men feared female competition, but where fewer men worked in agriculture, the old superstitions had already dissolved and women could do the easier job of standing on a slowly moving truck and clipping off excess branches. One director told me that when men resisted new techniques of pruning, he offered the training (and therefore the jobs) to women (Errani 2012). The only females on the boards of directors in the 1970s were in areas where many of the men worked in urban jobs. Membership trends in the 1970s included an increasing average age and feminization of the members, and a reduction in total membership. Although the number of members had decreased, the total number of hours and the amount of wages per hectare was still on the rise. In the 1970s, in all areas, there was little turnover of membership. Most members worked on these collectives for at least fifteen years. Members who depended on the collective for most of their yearly income were more willing to invest and deposit personal savings with the collective. Italians have a saying about statistics: they make it seem like there is a chicken in every pot when actually there are some who have two and others who have none. According to union statistics, the average number of days of employment in the fields and packing plants, for the 25,594 braccianti in the province of Ravenna in 1970, was one hundred. But 8 percent of those workers worked 20 percent of the total days, leaving the number of days worked by the majority of braccianti at only eighty-seven days. As for statistics compiled for all “Red” collectives in the province of Ravenna for 1972, the average number of days worked per active member was seventy-four. Other jobs in the tourist centers, as domestic servants, or in home textile piecework (called lavoro nero, or “black labor,” because employer contributions were not paid on the wages) were not included in the union figures for the number of days worked by braccianti. Work in home gardens, hunting, fishing, cottage industries, or building their own homes was also not included. Historically, braccianti cobbled together many different sources of family income. That a certain amount of work was done on private farms in a given area did not mean that interest in the collective was weak. Because the allocation of labor was done through a centralized hiring hall (Ufficio Collocamento di Lavoro), a worker going to work on a private farm might work on the collective the following day. There was definitely an awareness

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of going to work for the padroni (bosses) versus going to work on terra nostra (our land), but everybody did both. ITALIAN LAW The “Basevi Law,” number 1577 in December 1947 in Title IV of the Civil Code (Bione 1971: 34), was the result of a consensus between the two main cooperative movements that re-emerged after fascism. The “Red” Socialist/ Communist movement was associated with left-wing political parties, and the “White” with the Christian Democrat majority party. According to John Logue, the most important parts of the Basevi Law were the provisions for “self-capitalization” and the concept of “indivisible reserves” for the benefit of “future generations of employees and the community.” Although the industrial and artisan cooperatives Logue visited had substantial membership fee requirements, ranging from $3,000 to $112,000, he quoted a third generation cooperative member as saying, “Part of our mission is intergenerational mutuality. What we see here is the fruit of generations of work. We receive wealth from past generations, and we create it for future generations” (Logue 2006: 3–5). Although Ravenna’s agricultural production cooperatives began with nominal membership fees, they now have a “deferred payment” or pension (fondo di previdenza) account, in which an annual amount is credited to each individual. These amounts, which are paid upon retirement or to heirs, are determined by votes of the membership. They accumulate tax-free but are also interest-free. Members are unable to benefit individually from inflation in land values, but increases and decreases in market values are taken into account in annual calculations. The pension funds are then used, in addition to members’ savings deposited in the cooperative, for the financing of operations. According to Francesco Forte and Michela Mantovani in “Cooperatives’ Tax Regimes, Political Orientation, and Rent Seeking,” the Basevi Law exempted cooperative profits from taxes. Members of collectives paid no capital gain taxes on funds credited to their individual accounts, interest on members’ loans to their collectives were tax-free, members were exempted from making social security payments, and collectives had the discretion of adjusting members’ taxable income. The Basevi Law also “determined—albeit with looseness—the basic requisites of mutuality” and gave “an official role of vigilance” to national associations of cooperatives in which all cooperatives “were obliged to enroll.” As a result, “the two newly born [‘Red’ and ‘White’] movements . . . were able to become well-structured organizations with numerous affiliates in the entire country

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. . . [which assured them] an important political influence” (Forte and Mantovani 2009: 49, 45). Forte and Manotovani say that a determination of whether fiscal policies benefitting cooperatives have damaged or promoted collective welfare is beyond the scope of their paper. Although they acknowledge that their perspective is “from the point of view of the principles of a competitive market system, . . . [they claim that the system] is not indifferent to the correction of social and economic disequilibria” (ibid.: 44). After carefully examining six phases of cooperative taxation laws dominated by different political regimes, their conclusion is that the economic and social importance of the Italian cooperative sector is at least in part due to successful “rent seeking” (or unfair advantage) in the form of preferential tax treatments. Most tax concessions, benefitting cooperative societies as a whole, tended to survive throughout changes in governments, but the Berlusconi government’s 2004 reform of the Civil Code attacked the types of cooperatives that were most important in the League of Cooperatives and left benefits intact for cooperatives with Catholic electorates. According to Tito Menzani, “Red” cooperatives were successful in Ravenna because political administrations discriminated against the Catholic cooperatives (Menzani 2007: 197). But, according to Maurizio Degli’Innocenti, the Catholic-inspired cooperative movement began to establish small family farms with government funding and grew by joining with large capitalist farms in the 1960s (Degli’Innocenti 1986: 55–57). The strongholds of the League, according to Forte and Mantovani, are in what they call the “capitalistic” sectors of “agriculture, food processing, and trade,” whereas the Catholic Confederation has more of a “social orientation,” operating in “agriculture, fishing, small distribution, and social and cultural services but not in mass retail.” There are 7.7 million members of the leftist League of Cooperatives, a “potentially . . . gigantic pressure group . . . in a nation of 60 million” (Forte and Mantovani 2009: 47). Another 2.7 million members belong to the Catholic Confederation, which is another large electoral sector. Because of political clout with sectors of the electorate, both movements continue to receive tax benefits on income, moveable wealth, capital reserves, monetary re-evaluation surpluses, transfer of property or services, licenses, and permits (Stupazzoni 1968: 39–45). As of 1992, 3 percent of the net income of all cooperatives goes to the national associations, earmarked for cooperative growth and promotion of new cooperatives. I was told that collectives juggled the number of days worked in the collectives, packing plants, and private farms by each member in order to qualify them for unemployment insurance (from the Cassa Integrazione). As for rules regarding deposits of members’ savings, collectives are now required to be more transparent on the interest paid for “self-financing.” The rationale

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for the previous policy of privacy was that the accounts were not like checking accounts and as a result should not be subject to banking laws. The requirements for “mutuality” were also tightened, and “as for the agricultural cooperatives the condition of prevalence of mutuality . . . [only continues to exist] when the quantity or value of goods conferred to the cooperative by its members is greater than the value of its own products” (ibid.: 52, 47). The way the collective organization in Ravenna was set up, legally and structurally, has had positive effects on the longevity of these enterprises. In contrast to Mexico’s ejido system, in which land was divided into individual parcels only five years after collectives were formed (Wilkie 1971: 56–57), Italian law requires that property of collectives never be subject to division. In contrast to worker-owned plywood firms in the Pacific Northwest of the United States, in which workers acquire capital shares in the common enterprise (Bellas 1972: 24), Italian law prohibits any division of profits on the basis of capital shares exceeding the legal interest rate for savings (Bione 1971: 34). This applies only to the member fees paid to enter the cooperative or collective, not on members’ savings that are not “shares.” Another law that guarded against the transformation of the agricultural production cooperatives into joint stock companies was the law giving members preference over non-members for work. For all practical purposes during most of the history of Ravenna’s collective farms, this meant that hired labor was minimal. The law also established that the cost of member labor had to exceed 50 percent of the total labor cost, technical and administrative employees could not exceed 12 percent, and the share of the profits that would go to hired laborers if they became members must go into reserve or mutual aid funds. These funds cannot be divided among members. De-collectivization on agricultural production cooperatives in Mexico, in which recipients of reform profited from others’ labor, could have been avoided with a different type of reform, distributing rights to work and make a living rather than title to individual plots of land. Jaroslav Vanek is of the opinion that, if shares in the worker-owned plywood companies studied by Bellas had been based on work instead of capital, many of the disintegrative tendencies would not have occurred (Bellas 1972: vii). As defined by Italian law, the goal of production and labor cooperatives (agricultural, transport, construction, dock, etc.) is to procure possibilities for work for members on more advantageous terms by eliminating middlemen. Legal requirements regarding accumulation of reserves were so stringent for many years that collectives were similar to private enterprises paying union wages (Stupazzoni 1968: 177). According to Italian law, certain things can only be decided by the General Assembly, where each member has one vote. These are the election of the board of directors (Consiglio di Amministrazione) and the board of auditors (Collegio Sindicale), approval

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of proposed budgets (this would include crop plan and division of profits), and amendments to the bylaws. Governmental authorities reserve rights of intervention, and they maintain the right of inspection of balance sheets to ensure that cooperatives are economically solvent and fulfilling their mutualistic scope (ibid.: 24, 170). If an investigation finds a collective serving private speculative ends, sanctions including dissolution can be brought to bear. Although the government has this right, regular audits are delegated to the three national cooperative organizations. The main legislation on cooperatives, established in 1947, provided that one-fifth of the net income must be placed in the reserve fund, which is indivisible during the life of the society. Upon dissolution of the society, this fund would go to ends furthering cooperation, as decided in a hearing by the Italian minister of labor and social security and the Central Committee for Cooperatives. In the United States, profits attributable to ownership of stock in employee-owned companies (Sub-S Corporations, or ESOPs) are tax free, but according to Logue, “all the benefits go to the current generation of employees, rather than benefitting employees in the future. If the employees sell or dissolve the ESOP, they can take the profits and run. Often they do” (Logue 2006: 4). There is also nothing in the United States similar to the Italian requirement for promotion of cooperation. In addition to the tax benefits, Italian collectives were supposedly eligible by law for special subsidies to facilitate the technical and economic operation of the farms, such as the purchasing of agricultural equipment, pesticides and livestock, and the promotion of the development of certain crops—in Ravenna these included fruits and vines in the 1970s. But laws providing for aid to collectives are misleading, since the Italian government is notorious for making relatively generous laws and then running out of funds. Historian John Larner noted the same thing in the thirteenth century. Someone would say the streets smelled like garbage and there ought to be a law. Since no one could disagree, a law would be passed and then no one would comply (Larner 1965: 166). One of the more exceptional characteristics of the Ravenna collectives in the 1970s was that they survived and thrived without any substantive support from a central government. Although the thirty-year loans made to collectives cannot be considered direct subsidies, collectives in 1966 benefitted from a five-year loan program that was part of the post–World War II agrarian reform’s Green Plan I. It provided for acquiring land, making improvements, operating expenses, and technological improvement of the farms. If the assistance afforded to braccianti collectives in Ravenna ($3 million in loans per year for five years) was divided according to the number of braccianti who benefitted, the amount per individual would be much lower

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than the financing given to each individual family farm by the same plan. The fact that collectives have financed the greater part of their acquisitions of land through ordinary credit indicates that they are financially sound. No bank ever lost a single lira on money loaned to collectives in Ravenna. DECISIONS AND RISKS In economic terms, the three major sources of accumulation responsible for the extraordinary success of collective farming in Ravenna include what could have been “wages,” “profit,” and the devaluation of currency. That the desperate need for work, even below union wage, is a factor here is a pitiful comment on the state of the Italian economy. But the fact that these Italian workers responded by building organizations based on working-class solidarity is an inspiration. The only ways these collectives had to accumulate the capital they needed were: • contributions (this would include free labor and reductions in wages); • “profits” after the worker-members are paid, whatever they decide should be their “wages”; • subsidies from state and private entities; • fiscal and financial concessions available to collectives; and • devaluation of currency through which the value of property acquired through long-term loans increases (Viaggi 1969: 137–38). Collectives and family enterprises both have the need to accumulate investment capital directly from what would otherwise be “wages” or “profits” rather than by issuing capital shares. The difference between the two is that the members of a collective decide to leave a part of what would otherwise be their wages or profit to future members. In the 1970s, members loaned personal savings (up to $2,000 per family) to their local collectives, and they still voted to leave some of the “profit” to the reserve and mutual aid funds. Today, each member family has an average of €10,848 (US$9,738) in savings deposited in (and essentially loaned to) their collective (Pasini 2016). In a truly worker-managed enterprise, workers actually make these kinds of decisions and assume risks of loss. One of the most important decisions the members of Ravenna’s collectives made in the 1970s concerned how much should be left in the collective to allow it to grow and expand and how much should be divided among the members to satisfy immediate needs. At the General Assembly, members voted on the amount of profit to be divided among themselves, the amount to be credited to each member’s deferred-payment account, the amount to be placed in a mutual aid fund,

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and the amount to be allocated to the collective reserve over which the members have no claim as individuals. These decisions had far-reaching effects on jobs in the following years, as well as the success of the collective. For people who, in the 1970s, worked an average of one hundred days on the collectives for an average of only $1,000 per year, the decision to forego $100 to $200 of what could have been added to their income was a substantial investment. I found that if a collective had an opportunity to purchase new land or if new machines or trees needed to be acquired, members voted to take less that year. If there was no nearby land for sale, if the collective had an adequate amount of money in reserve, and if devaluation of currency was foreseen, a large amount of the profit would be divided immediately. I attended the general assemblies of four collectives in 1972–73 and noted that there was a range of variation in the ways profits were allocated. Members of a growing collective, such as the one at Carraie, which had the opportunity to buy land and needed to put in improvements immediately, voted to put most of the profits in the reserve fund and in the deferred-payment fund. They essentially invested those funds in hopes not of receiving an increase in their capital contributions but an increase in employment. The collective of Lavezzola, on the other hand, was much larger and more developed technologically. It had a safe amount in the collective reserve and no thoughts of buying or improving land in the immediate future. In that case, 75 percent of the profits for 1973 were divided immediately among the members. While it seems logical that older members would vote against long-term investments (the “horizon problem” that leaves collectives chronically undercapitalized), I did not notice this in the assemblies I visited in the 1970s. I was told that because the old people worked less, less was taken out of their “wages” for investments and that they usually had sons or daughters who also worked in the collective who were in favor of the long-term investments. But it is not always the case that members’ long-term interests are enough to insure that necessary investments will be made, and it is often argued that workers in a worker self-management system simply provide a rubber stamp for decisions that are really made elsewhere on the level of management. In some examples studied by other researchers, workers seem to be concerned only with irrelevant things like the placing of water coolers (Erasmus 1984: 297–98). A typical view of scholars of worker management is that it involves only insignificant decisions and risks and is just a ploy on the part of those really in control to increase production (Bellas 1972: 4). In an important sense, the Ravenna collectives do depend on decisions made elsewhere. Some of these are in the form of conditions for loans from the Federation of Cooperatives or strongly stated recommendations by the agricultural technicians who advise the collectives. Mario Tampieri, former president of the League of Cooperatives in Ravenna, explained a painful

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problem he had in trying to convince local communities of the need to consolidate some of the smaller consumer cooperatives that were losing money. After arguing about it for more than a year, the issue of closing the local store in Sant’Alberto was finally brought to a vote. Speaking in dialect, someone from the back of the room voiced his disapproval of the recommendation of the experts, shouting, “Long live the ignorance of the Sant’Albertinos!” (Tampieri 2010). While managers are put in the difficult position of having to boss their employers, members of the Ravenna collectives in the 1970s for the most part are the first to admit that they “haven’t studied” and wouldn’t presume to tell the managers to grow beans when they might not even sprout. But according to my observations, members were actively involved in the decisions about each year’s crop plan. Crops were divided into “active” ones, which were profit-makers for the collective, and “passive” ones, which absorbed a great deal of labor and paid many hours of wages but barely broke even or sometimes even lost money for the collective. U.S. nonprofit organizations also make decisions that, although not usually enacted to “make work,” often deliberately break even or lose money to fulfill social goals. In the Ravenna collectives, each crop had a specific peak labor demand period, or periods that had to be arranged so as to spread employment. The allocation of land use was constantly discussed. Contrary to many worker-management situations, there was a certain amount of risk the members took as a result of the decisions made. If the members insisted on planting high-labor-cost, high-risk, intensive products (such as fruits and vegetables), the collective might lose money and members would have to repay the collective out of advances made on their wages during the course of the year. An important indication that the members of Ravenna’s collectives did take risks in this respect is the way in which they expanded fruit production into marginal areas of the province even against recommendations by management. In fact, braccianti say that the large private owners are really the ones who don’t take the risks. Comparative data from the worker-owned plywood firms in the Pacific Northwest of the United States substantiates this, in that most began by taking over mills that were considered unprofitable (Bellas 1972: 20). In the 1970s, prior to the General Assembly each year, the manager, technicians, and elected board of directors met to develop a proposal. In informal evening gatherings in each neighborhood, the technician or manager and president of the collective convened with each neighborhood group to discuss the costs of production (including union wages) of each proposed crop. In 1972, in addition to picking peaches and strawberries, I worked on the tedious job of thinning out sugar beet seedlings. In that year, members’ concerns were, “If we begin using the new sugar beet seed [which requires

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no manual thinning] then how will we eat next year? Why can’t we put up another “tunnel” [of plastic] to grow more strawberries? How come we wasted land last year on those peppers that weren’t even worth picking?” In the neighborhood meetings, the agricultural technician was bombarded with questions, especially from the young men. Women participated less in the haggling, whispering to me that “the women will complain later among themselves.” One decision that many women did participate in was a proposal to set up lights in the field (an irrelevant “water cooler” decision?) so that they could work under the plastic in the evening when it was cooler. They also argued about the policy that only women could work in the strawberry fields, because some wanted their husbands to take their places on the job if they got sick. I measured the effectiveness of worker-management in several ways. First, I found that the effect of the introduction of technology on the Ravenna collectives in the 1970s was to increase rather than decrease employment. Worker-management definitely had something to do with the reason why collectives, with 9 percent of the province land, provided 31 percent of the employment of the entire braccianti class in the 1970s. In the 1960s, collectives provided 50 percent of braccianti employment, which does not count work in the transformation and marketing plants. Second, the amount of money taken home in wages by members from the production of “passive” crops is a direct result of the immediate desires of the workers expressed in the self-management process. Third, the capacity of the Ravenna collectives to invest indicates that worker self-management does not lead to an irresponsible division of assets. One of the “commitment mechanisms” that Rosabeth Moss Kanter concluded was important in the success of intentional communities is the willingness to sacrifice (1972: 188). A fourth indicator of the effectiveness of worker management is the participation of members in the meetings and assemblies. Although the League of Cooperatives in Ravenna kept no exact records of participation, records kept by the League of Cooperatives of Bologna shows that slightly over a third of the members of agricultural collectives regularly attended meetings and assemblies (Picci 1968: 142–44). In Ravenna, most of the serious work was done in numerous pre-assemblies; and, although I attended several of these, there were no figures on total attendance at all the meetings. By the time the annual assemblies rolled around, they seemed to be festive gatherings for the entire town. My participant observation study of the mechanics of worker-management on the Ravenna collectives was limited to attendance at four general assemblies and pre–general assembly meetings and discussions with members in 1972–73. Italian scholars (Guerra 2014 and 2004) and other researchers (Tampieri, Baldini, and Guerra 1996–2003) have conducted oral history interviews that substantially agree with what I found to be the case.

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Postdoctorate fellow Cècilia Navarra, an economist at the Centre de Recherche en Economie du Développement (CRED) at the Université de Namur in Belgium, conducted her PhD research on labor cooperatives in Ravenna. She analyzed financial statements from 2000 to 2006 and conducted qualitative interviews and quantitative member surveys to determine attitudes toward contributions to the indivisible reserves. Navarra says that “what is striking from the economist’s perspective is that huge accumulation in an indivisible and non-appropriable pool seems to violate the need for a proper incentive scheme.” She found that 86.8 percent of the profits of labor cooperatives in Ravenna (these include large construction cooperatives) were left in the indivisible reserve fund, while only 10.2 percent was distributed to members in 2006. She cites empirical studies (Estrin 1991 and Bartlett et al. 1992) that indicate no adverse effect of this system on labor productivity in comparison with private firms. She also determined, contrary to the analysis of Forte and Mantovani cited here previously, that the formation of these large indivisible reserves were not the result of favorable tax laws. Navarra found that contributions to reserves did not increase when there were favorable laws or decrease with unfavorable changes. Instead, she found that there was a direct correlation between increases and years of better profits. She also found, contrary to expectations, that smaller and newer collectives with less “managerialization” (influence of managers) and more direct control of members put the most into the reserve funds. This indicates that members’ intentional decisions played the key role (Navarra 2009: 1, 3, 6, 9). Regarding the willingness of members to self-sacrifice for the common good, she quotes Tito Menzani as saying, For a long time (this choice began to be questioned in the 60s), the extent of the employment concern was so important that most cooperatives were used to undertake unprofitable works, in order to absorb as . . . [much of the] labour force as possible. This meant, of course, lowering the salaries, and this indeed was a widely accepted practice among worker members; the ideological component of “working class solidarity” has clearly played an important part in this choice. (Menzani, cited in op.cit: 18)

Navarra’s 2008 PhD dissertation in Italian was published in English in 2011. In it, she described the results of her survey of members of labor cooperatives in Ravenna. In the average of the entire sample, 36.5 percent said that profits going to the indivisible reserve were “a just thing to benefit future generations,” 11 percent said it was unjust and should go to members immediately, 44.1 percent said it was a necessary thing for the financial solidity of the cooperative, and only 8.4 percent said it was a choice of the directors to enrich the cooperative. The willingness to invest in the indivisible reserve was higher among those who planned to stay longest, and also among those

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who felt more of a sense of belonging, but was still high on average. Navarra attributed the willingness to invest to three things: an “insurance argument” against losing jobs (and a willingness to settle for lower or “flexible wages”); a “horizon argument” balancing the interests of retiring members for capital distribution with the needs of current members for capital accumulation; and a “we-rationality argument” that has to do with a sense of belonging and a “collective rationality” (Navarra 2010: 18). Fiorenzo Landi, an economic historian at the University of Bologna, is another scholar who has researched the details of worker management, this time based on the history of a single Ravenna collective from the Federation archives at the Mandriole Braccianti Agricultural Production Cooperative where the histories of all the collectives are stored. He examined the details of all discussions and decisions in the minutes of the braccianti collective of Cervia from 1904 to 1970. “Animated debates” that were “recorded faithfully” showed that “cooperatives have always had problems of organization and management” and that they “obsessively pursued making work.” At their origin, they were essentially employment agencies ensuring that everyone would get an exactly equal amount of work. But after World War II the cooperatives had to make choices between modernization and orientation toward the market on the one hand and saving their cooperative solidarity and principles on the other (Landi 1998: 16–17, 138). This is exactly the challenge that Rosabeth Moss Kanter described for communal societies that have to operate externally with Gesellschaft principles while trying to preserve Gemeinschaft principles internally. At the origin of the cooperative in 1904, the minutes show that there was “great passion” and willingness to make “sacrifices for the survival of their cooperative.” Once the collective began to rent and then purchase land for agricultural production, they continued to divide it into pieces to be worked individually. Landi mentioned that the minutes reflected that the Mezzano collective, after experimenting with unified management, had to return to what was basically a sharecropping arrangement, with members having individual plots of land. Members apparently felt that the unified management was a return to the old padrone overseeing squads of workers in the fields. The problem with working the land individually was that it was not conducive to making investments, a problem that only became worse with the modernization of agriculture (ibid.: 15, 20). One-third of the harvest now had to go toward seed for the next year, and an increasing amount went toward credit and machines. Sharecroppers traditionally had to pay a third or half of all expenses and for all their own tools, which became an increasing burden. The minutes show that some members wanted to continue to work the land divided into individual pieces and others wanted to work in squads with

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piecework. The collective left it up to the members to decide. If there were disputes, a council mediated them and would either give land to those who had no other land or would draw straws. While the minutes show disputes over piecework, which discriminated against women and the elderly, the biggest dispute was over the shift to working the land undivided according to union scale. Members did not like the fact that specialized and unspecialized workers would receive different rates of pay. They accepted differences based on physical ability, even if squads of pieceworkers were pushed to the point of collapse, but not on professional categories. They wanted equality of pay with no differences. The problems, according to Landi, had to do with the necessity of “introducing the market into what theoretically was a collective activity” (ibid.: 24, 55, 121). Landi described how the managers and presidents, who tended to have very long tenures, always had a “dialog with members . . . [and] a relationship of trust . . . [with them] in long meetings and assemblies.” He says the managers “weren’t saints . . . but they did represent the braccianti . . . [and] learned how to govern a mass of violent, undisciplined workers.” There were cases of members firing managers for incompetence and fraud, and instances where managers had a hard time convincing hostile members of anything that reduced labor, even if profitable. The minutes show that members pressed for the purchase of land, even at inflated prices, and that they made decisions to forgo profits or even to work for free to benefit their collectively owned enterprises. They did this “for self-protection and solidarity.” The collectives benefitted by an increase in market prices for agricultural products during World War I, as well as from the devaluation of currency that reduced the amount of debt owed on prior purchases of land. While sister collectives helped one another during times of financial crisis, such as one instance caused by severe flood damage, obtaining credit at less than usurious rates was always a problem. In 1919, members began to deposit their savings into the collectives (ibid.: 121, 113, 102). According to Landi, there was “complete political and social solidarity” among the members. They taxed themselves to support striking workers in jail, allocated funds for soldiers, supported the Socialist newspaper L’Avanti!, provided pensions based on need rather than contributions, established warehouses with food for sale to members and the public, and set aside social funds to benefit their class (ibid.: 64–65). All this changed under fascism. The General Assemblies became “rubber stamps . . . and braccianti . . . who used to decide together the organization of work, their pay, and the distribution of profits . . . decided nothing.” Fascist managers sold collective land to their relatives, were paid exorbitant salaries, used member labor to build their personal houses, took collective vehicles on vacations, and refused entry of new braccianti unless they gave the right

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answers to political and moral questions or volunteered for the war in Africa (ibid.: 88, 116–17). In the case of the Cervia Braccianti Collective, Landi acknowledged that technical exigencies of post–World War II modernization necessarily gave more influence to the managers and that this took decisions away from the members, whose involvement became increasingly limited to “rituals, assemblies, and parties.” The “meticulous” minutes of the cooperatives, he said, became less so over time (ibid.: 14, 19). THE “NEW RELATIONSHIP” In the 1950s, a “New Relationship” (Nuovo Rapporto) was developed on the “Red” collectives. The rigid accumulation law for the reserve fund was relaxed in recognition of the fact that a society could fulfill its “mutualistic” requirements without placing a set 20 percent of the net income into the reserve fund once that fund reached a certain level (Amadei 1969: 161). Members were therefore given more democratic control over the assets of their collectives. The reasoning was that the prior law, and not the membership, decided the future of the collective, and also that the practice of guaranteeing a union wage to members deprived them of a rightful part of their “Socialist Wage” (profits) and removed them from the risks of the farm. Historically, collectives in Ravenna operated under a sharecropping arrangement where members received one-third of the product and twothirds remained in the collective. Now, for the first time, members could share in profits, but they could also for the first time be asked to repay losses out of the union wage advances made during the year. The union bitterly opposed this change to the new system, in which members assumed full risk in return for sharing in a greater part of the income. Union organizer Maria Bassi explained to me that the reason for this objection was that the union’s goal was to maintain and increase union wages, not to endanger them (Bassi 1972). Unions and collectives in Ravenna have always had an unusual relationship. Labor unions typically don’t want to be involved with ownership and management of production. Menzani’s view of the “New Rapport” was that it was necessary because “the braccianti who had animated the post war reconstruction were disillusioned . . . the movement had always asked too much of them and not remunerated them well enough” (Menzani 2007: 193). The braccianti collective of Mezzano was the first to institute the “New Relationship” in 1956. Antonella Ravaioli and Claudio Casadio explain that the new relationship was necessary because of the mechanization of agriculture, increased costs of production, and subordination of agriculture to the industrial and finance sectors of the economy. In 1954, there were 2,094

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members in the Mezzano collective who realized that they were not going to benefit from the agricultural reform. Some of the land they had previously rented was expropriated for distribution to individual families. Although it was difficult to reorganize after twenty years of authoritarian management, they realized they would have to purchase their own land, which had been mined during the war, and put in intensive fruits and vines. This was made possible with loans from the Federation. Braccianti worked without pay for two years, and 2,700 days of labor were credited to their deferred-payment accounts. By the closing of the books in 1956, members received above union scale for their work. Although the Mezzano collective was still acquiring land and installing fruit, vegetables, and vines in the mid- to late 1970s, the membership had declined to 1,345 in 1977 (Ravaioli and Casadio 1997: 138–39, 146). In Cervia, it was not until the 1960s that the braccianti collective instituted the “New Relationship.” A secret vote was held, and the decision was not too traumatic, although the number of members declined the next year from 325 to 235. Throughout this period, mechanization was introduced wherever possible, which reduced the need for labor, but at the same time the members were constantly voting to purchase new land, even at exorbitant prices, and to put in new fruit and vine crops in order to increase labor. In order to purchase new land, loan guarantees were needed from the Federation. By 1967, the guarantees came with a string attached: there could be no more unprofitable crops. In the 1971 minutes of the General Assembly, the president said, “We can affirm that all of the members have understood that this is necessary, even if it reduces employment” (Landi 1998: 154–55). Unlike the urban workers in the 1920s, who did not take over the factories because they realized they would end up owing all of the profits to the banks (Earle 1986: 24), the members of Ravenna’s braccianti collectives agreed with the “New Relationship” imposed by the Federation. The purpose of this change was “not to reduce members’ shares, but to increase them so that they would be the true owners of their own land.” In Landi’s opinion, this passage from the “union” phase to an “entrepreneurial” phase was in keeping with the original cooperative tradition. The subtitle of Landi’s book translates to “the farm laborer entrepreneurs of Cervia” (Landi 1998: 157, 159). The “New Relationship,” in combination with the implications of Robert Fanfani’s study of the Sant’Alberto collective’s strawberry operation on the former Maracabò estate, marked the end of the era of collective ability to expand employment indefinitely and continue to pay union wage while arguably necessitating the “managerialization” of decision-making, to use Cécilia Navarra’s term. Collectives in the 1970s paid up to four times more per hectare in wages than private farms, and they had to confront the problem of how to generate ever-increasing amounts of capital in order to fulfill

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their social purpose of widening employment. Even though braccianti numbers sharply declined over the same twenty years, the need for land and capital continued to rise. As a result of rapid mechanization from 1949 to 1969, the amount of land and capital required to provide full employment for one worker multiplied three and four times respectively (Viaggi 1969: 134–35). SOCIAL INCENTIVES AND PRODUCTIVITY The idea that economic incentives can only operate successfully on the level of individuals, and not on groups where the “free rider” effect is presumed to interfere (Erasmus 1984: 160), contradicts what I found to be the case in Ravenna, where one informant explained to me that the collectives were so successful because “here in this capitalist country, unlike in the socialist countries, there is a real incentive for us to cooperate, and that incentive is to be able to scrape together a few pieces of bread.” Group-level economic incentives responsible for the success of the Ravenna collectives had to do with their labor-intensive productive system being intermediate between the small family and large private systems, the large majority of rural families still needing income from agriculture, and collective work being more convenient for women. That collectives in the 1970s had a socioeconomic basis is not enough to explain their success for more than one hundred years. Surely there were other organizations at other times and in other places that could have benefitted from similar survival strategies to cope with the onslaught of capitalism in the countryside. The reasons had to have something to do with the human element—the social glue that holds people together and ensures that each does his/her part for the collective good. Harvard researchers Elton Mayo and W. Lloyd Warner, who studied factories in the 1930s, discovered the “Hawthorne Effect,” in which social and psychological influences were determined to have an effect on worker productivity (Mayo 1933). As an anthropologist, I was interested in the operation of social incentives that encouraged people to have (as they say) a “conscience” when it comes to work, even when their pay is by the hour and not by the quality of work (and expelling of members is virtually unheard of ). Anecdotally, as one who worked in factory, maid, and food-service jobs during high school and college, and who has also done participant observation fieldwork under worker management, I seem to find that the social incentives for performance are strong in jobs everywhere, even in large-scale societies, mainly because most people don’t want coworkers to think they are lazy. The social incentives I was looking for as I worked with two squads of women picking strawberries and peaches and thinning sugar beets were

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things one could not see but were obviously in operation and had a great deal to do with the small-town character of the Ravenna countryside. Although the Ravenna collectives are big businesses, with a vertical organization linking the individual collectives with each other all the way up to a national organization and global markets, the fact that each collective operated in a small rural town of from five to nine thousand inhabitants was conducive to maintaining a high level of “conscience” on the part of members. Not only were the towns small, they were filled with agricultural laborers who did not migrate in order to work and who typically lived in the towns for several generations, and this is another factor that contributed to the job performance of members. Even though a collective might have over a thousand members, no member is anonymous because they all live in the same small town. I was told that the largest collectives were the most successful and that their members were the most committed with the highest levels of “conscience.” The idea that workers only carry their weight if motivated by incentives and disincentives does not even hold true in modern corporations. According to Steven Covey, employees “volunteer their best parts—their hearts and minds” (2004: 58). And Harvard industrial psychologist Elton Mayo (who happens to be my grandchildren’s great-great grandfather), noticed in 1933 that what the industrial worker wants is to be valued by a group. His claim to fame, in family lore at least, is “inventing the coffee break” to boost worker productivity. For the majority of the women members of Ravenna’s collectives, there were several positive reasons for membership. Collectives offered a rare opportunity to work for pay without sacrificing family obligations. Collectives provided opportunities for women to work independently, which they would not otherwise have, even if they owned land. One informant’s story was, I inherited a small piece of land from my parents, but my husband is a mechanic and I couldn’t begin to work it alone, and even if I could, I couldn’t make a living off of it. So I rent it to a farmer who has many pieces of land here and there. I work in the cooperative where my “share” of land is less. Of course since I have the other income I can’t work as many days as the other women. But it’s still better because the men do the heavy work.

For some, the rewards for the work they did in the collective were more than extra money: Before I went to work in the cooperative, I felt that my husband was my padrone [boss, employer]. I had my jobs to do every day, cleaning, mending, ironing, and cooking, and if he was to come home and eat without talking and go to the bar every night, what right did I have to complain?

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Another woman member of the Longastrino collective, who was in the habit of entertaining the other women by singing and dancing over the rows of strawberries with her skirt pulled up to her waist, gave another, purely social, reason for joining: I’m not from the country myself. I worked in a store in the city until I was thirty-eight. Then I met Giorgio [her husband]. Most women don’t want to marry a man from the country. I liked him, though, and I didn’t like my job. So when he told me that I would stay home and keep house I moved out here. After two years of it, I got tired and bored without any children to care for. One day, he got home from work and I told him I had joined the cooperative. He was surprised because I had never done agricultural work before, but it was easy to learn.

A striking example of the effect of these towns on people is the way in which recent immigrants (up to 30 percent of some of the towns) often bring anticollective sentiments down into the collective-dominated low plain, but generally shed these feelings and become enthusiastic members. They learn that there is a tradition in these lowland towns that values and encourages hard work and cooperation. In the long history of the Ravenna collectives, there are some workers who are widely respected by everyone for being particularly hard working and generous. One worker named Victor from Longastrino was even remembered after his death. It is said that “Faceva piacere a lui” (it gave him pleasure) that everyone be equal, and he worked twice as hard to help others catch up. Since the cooperation of all union members in strikes on private land was the only way to force landowners to sell land to collectives (the spontaneous de facto land reform and the “strike in reverse”), all are equally valued as members whether or not all contribute equally in the pace of work. Everyone was aware that the more land in the hands of large private growers, the less work there was for braccianti. Members denied the existence of strong social sanctions brought to bear on those who do not carry their own weight. A typical statement by collective members, when asked about their reaction to those who don’t carry their own weight, was, “Who am I to deprive another of his/her right to live and work? Not all of us are equally capable of working hard for either physical or psychological reasons. Someday I too will become old and weak.” Only one person told me that there were social sanctions, but that they operated against overachievers as well as underachievers, the same sort of thing that has been observed as “rate busting” in factories in the United States. According to him, I am not well liked in the cooperative because I work too hard and make the others look bad. As I see it, there are three types of people: those who work very hard like

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me, those who work at an average pace, and the “me ne fregistas” [those who don’t give an expletive]. Those in the middle range are best suited for the cooperative life and make it difficult for the others.

In the light of all the disagreements as to the nature and/or existence of social incentives in Ravenna (since they really only exist in people’s heads and therefore vary accordingly), I determined that the only objective way to ascertain the effectiveness of social incentives in preventing malingering on the job was to try to compare labor productivity on different types of farms. I surveyed the crop plans and balance sheets of six cooperatives and estimated that they were no more than 20 percent less “efficient” than a model private farm, once the different amounts of land devoted to the different crops with various efficiency levels were taken into consideration. Instead of jumping to the conclusion that the 20 percent differential indicated that people do not produce well under a collective system in which social incentives are used to appeal to peoples’ consciences, rather than employing a carrot-and-stick approach, it simply must be considered that there were people working those fields who were seventy-five years old, while most of the work on the capitalist farms is done by the youngest, predominately male segment of the agricultural population. Other factors that have nothing to do with motivation were also significant. Many times in Ravenna, hours are spent caring for trees that are not yet mature, which would lower figures for productivity. The same would also be the case for agricultural research and experimentation that is so essential to a collective. Other times, nature intervenes and part of a crop is lost. Further, collectives often put in fruit in marginal areas, whereas large private growers choose only the very best zones and rarely take risks. Collectives, like small family farms, might have even chosen on purpose to put more labor into a piece of land for a slight increment in production, while large private growers practice the opposite tactic of willingly sacrificing a part of productivity in order to utilize (and pay) less labor. In short, there is every reason to believe that, in spite of the large size of the Ravenna collectives and the fact that they operated in the context of a modern capitalistic society, they were able, in the 1970s at least, to maintain a competitive level of labor productivity. I saw less malingering there than in forty years of careers in private, nonprofit, and governmental institutions in the United States. While collectives in Ravenna seem to differ from the experiences in many socialist countries where individual incentives apparently had to be reinstituted (Dohrs 1968: 23), I could not help coming to the conclusion in the 1970s that the members of Ravenna’s collectives did have a “conscience” when it came to contributing their share of the work. This was not only because of the small-town social environment but also because

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collectives offered a way to add to family income that the private sector did not. They effectively served the needs of women whose husbands had other careers. Collectives, without concealing underemployment, provided an alternative to a large-scale capitalist agricultural system indifferent to the chaotic abandonment of rural people. Because I had been culturally and professionally steeped in the mentality of the “Green Revolution” and its attendant ideas that larger is more efficient and “better,” and that old traditions stood in the way of modernization and maximization of profit, I was quite unprepared for the shock of entering an atmosphere where the spirit seemed to be that a human organization need not employ the reward vs. punishment system of values to work (a pretty cynical attitude as far as some enthusiastic collective members are concerned) and instead functioned successfully on a genuinely cooperative basis—namely with a sense that the members feel it is their cooperative, and they really want it to succeed for the good of all. I became pronoun-conscious of the constant and positive use of the terms noi and nostro (“we” and “our”) in the context of collective life, which made me aware of how conditioned I had become to the terms “mine” and “theirs” and how deprived I felt at the rare occurrence of these cooperative pronouns, with all that they mean in a social sense, in my own cultural experience. EXTERNAL AFFILIATIONS AND RELATIONSHIPS Collectives in Ravenna are democratically organized, with no special rewards or punishments to increase levels of production, yet they appear to enjoy a wider success than their counterparts elsewhere in the world. While Landi’s longitudinal study of the minutes of the Cervia Braccianti Agricultural Production Cooperative showed that the members did make important decisions, he also made it clear that democratic worker management was not the only factor important in longevity. The role of the Federation of Cooperatives, under the leadership of Nullo Baldini, was a key factor. The Federation benefitted all of the associated cooperatives in Ravenna while keeping the profits in the centralized umbrella organization. In 1952, land belonging to the Federation was ceded to the individual collectives at a lower rent than they would have had to pay on the open market. It was agreed that a collective could pay an even lower rent if it failed to make union wage in a given year. The Federation’s role changed from direct management to providing technical advice and guaranteeing loans. Loans from the Federation helped weather financial crises that could have otherwise meant bankruptcy. The result was that Ravenna’s braccianti collectives came to be financed in the same manner as other agricultural enterprises

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with good credit. The braccianti class, which was once regarded only as a social problem, now had significant landholdings, and the Federation came to have a larger role in coordination and technical oversight by “an aristocracy of experts” (Landi 1998: 15) Another of the reasons for the remarkable success of these collectives has undoubtedly been the development of a powerful vertically integrated network. According to Helen Cochran and David Wilson, “Cross-sector cooperative solidarity (worker, consumer, producer, financial) . . . drives cooperative development . . . [and] as soon as a new co-op starts, ALL of the co-ops start buying from that co-op” (Corcoran and Wilson 2010). One of the first questions I asked of the collective farm managers in Ravenna was how they managed to compete with privately owned enterprises on the open market. The answer, they said, was simply that there was no direct competition at all, for three reasons. First, the collectives deliver everything they produce to the marketing cooperatives associated with the leftistleaning League of Cooperatives. Second, direct competition with large private farms was avoided in the 1970s because collectives and large private farms produced different types of crops. And third, cooperation between the collectives and the small private farms in the transformation and marketing cooperatives is beneficial to both. As economic historian Tito Menzani states, The real radical change, almost revolutionary, was the involvement of wide participation of farmers in many associations apart from agricultural production but tied to agriculture. The various activities of commercialization of fruits and vegetables and agro industrial transformation was a surprising business development . . . and in this direction the cooperation obtained its principal and most gratifying successes.

Menzani says that “ten years after the war the real success story was the small or medium sized family farm with land owned or rented, and the socialization of the land was just a myth and both the Socialist/Communist and the Catholic models had failed” (Menzani 2007: 197, 90). Ten years after the war, some of the Catholic production cooperatives may have failed, but the Socialist/Communist production cooperatives were still in full swing, providing needed part-time employment for a dwindling agricultural population. Their small-farm partners were also still prospering. I contend that the real revolutionary innovation was the cooperation between groups that might otherwise be considered antagonistic, such as between small owners, tenant farmers, and landless laborers. This is undoubtedly the reason for their collective strength and success. Why small farms have persisted alongside large collectives, instead of being driven out of business by large corporate conglomerates as in the United States, must have something to do with this cooperation.

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Arguably, these small farms and collectives, working together, created a more humane and sustainable agricultural system, producing healthier food than one finds in the United States. Although the cooperative production and marketing of fruit in Massalombarda was the brainchild of a private farmer, Adolfo Bonvicini, and although it was innovative and revolutionary, it was of limited scope (Landi 2002: 247–60). The first large modern cooperative refrigerator and packing plant in Ravenna was established at Mezzano in 1957 through the efforts of eighteen agricultural production cooperatives and one owner-operated farm. Its goal was to eliminate the middleman in the marketing of valuable but perishable fruit. Ten years later, 463 owner-operators, 102 agrarian reform recipients, 81 tenant farmers, and 54 renters had joined the Mezzano marketing cooperative, plus 49 farmers who worked their land with hired labor. As of the 1970s, eleven other wine cellars, packaging, transformation and marketing cooperatives associated with the “Red” movement were coordinated by a large organization (Consorzio Ortofruticole Ravennate) which puts the single “COR” label on all products. Membership of these various second-degree cooperatives was substantial in the 1970s. Together, all these disparate groups and their members cultivated a grand total of 28,000 hectares of land, equivalent to 20 percent of the agricultural surface in the province of Ravenna. Located in the same building as the Federation of Cooperatives (now called Federcoop), the provincial office of the National League of Cooperatives (now called Legacoop) provides direction and planning for the cooperative movement as a whole, and promotes its articulation with other social movements and with the state, regional, provincial, and communal governments. Although horizontal grassroots participation is essential to the success of any cooperative enterprise, the vertical organization found in the Ravenna movement is valuable in several ways. It provides opportunities for career advancement and guards against the possibility that a manager of a particular collective might never want to take risks for fear of jeopardizing his job. Different organizations within the network provide supplies and technical services (Terremerse, Promosagri, and Apros), financial services and entrepreneurial consulting (Federazione delle Cooperative dalla Provincia di Ravenna and Federcoop Nullo Baldini), and processing of products (Fruttagel, ApoFruit, Conase, PempaCorer, Le Romagnole, Gruppo Cevico, So.Pr.E.D., AlVerde, Granlatte, Cooperativa Agricola Cesenatica, Conase, and DisterEnergia). In addition to the Federation and the League, labor unions have also been crucial in the ability of worker management to survive within the capitalist system. Although union organizers theoretically considered cooperatives to be another potentially bourgeois institution like guilds, and even sometimes threatened to strike on collective land, unions were essential to the success

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of the collectives and vice versa. In the past, some of the collectives were called “braccianti union cooperatives.” By the 1970s, the two organizations were autonomous but had a parallel relationship, insofar as they were made up of the same members in the same towns and provided mutual support against private landowners. Unions had a definite role in the 1970s in seeing that collectives remained true to their principles and were economically solvent. The Federbraccianti, the farmworker union adhering to the national Socialist-Communist CGIL labor union, insisted on an equal division of labor among workers and on the payment by the collective of union wage. Union activities in Ravenna have been both directly and indirectly responsible for the acquisition of land by collectives, in what was essentially a spontaneous, de facto land reform. In return, collectives provided support for the unions. Whenever the union announced a hike in wages for farm workers, the collectives were the first to pay it. Collectives provided employment for workers who went on strike, and invited workers who were not members and who were not on strike to avoid breaking the strike by coming to work on the collective. This led to the accusation by private landowners that unions artificially supported collectives by raising wages on private farms. When workers got a larger share of profits on the collectives, they asked for the same on private farms. Due to sympathy of the wider population for the braccianti cause, many victories against the idea of private property were won in Ravenna over the years. Although there were no dramatic cases during my stay, I did participate in a demonstration one cold damp morning on some uncultivated land on the outskirts of the city of Ravenna. Hundreds of workers showed up on bicycles with placards they placed in the field, declaring, “This Land is Badly Cultivated,” “Land to Those Who Work Her,” and the like. At the time, I couldn’t see what good it would do—it seemed to be a small, symbolic action—but I found out a few months later that the owner, who feared another agrarian reform, sold the land to a braccianti collective. The ease with which that landowner was induced to sell was the result of fifty years of more violent confrontations. In one particular case in 1964, on a farm belonging to a “gentleman” named Graziani outside the town of Mezzano, the owner wanted to shift from sharecropping to wage labor. Braccianti sharecroppers refused to leave and kept working the land. The owner waited until the crops were mature before trying to forcibly evict them without paying them. The owner brought in crumeri (“scabs,” or literally “worms”) from the next province for the harvest. Local braccianti women laid down in front of the foreman’s tractor, and the irate owner shouted for him to go ahead and run over them, which he refused to do. The next day, the majority of the crumeri left to go home on the train. With tears in their eyes, they explained to the braccianti that they had been tricked into coming by the promise of a

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few days’ work. Protected by the state police, the remaining crumeri began harvesting the grapes at dawn, singing the fascist song “Giovinezza,” and by eight o’clock in the morning, three thousand braccianti had surrounded the farm. The demand stated on their picket was, “We want this land to give not only capitalist profit but well-being for everyone. This is why we want agrarian reform” (Rambaldi 2004: 265–70). Fearing violence, the local town council ordered the owner to cease and desist and to remove the crumeri in the interest of maintaining the peace. This was not simply because the town council was made up of communists sympathetic to the braccianti, but the action reflected the philosophical conviction that human life is more important than private property. It took over a year, but Graziani finally put the land up for sale. Only the braccianti collective would buy it (Bignami 1969: 307–14). It is interesting to speculate about the importance of the fact that the agricultural work force was of local origin and the same ethnicity as the larger population. Most of the city people in Ravenna have relatives who either were or still are contadini (small owners, tenant farmers, sharecroppers, or laborers). Although it was pointed out to me that Italians have their own difficult history with feudalism and attitudes toward workers, this contrasts sharply with the historical indifference of the larger population to the plight of farm workers in the United States. In California, farm laborers have historically been migrants of different races, languages, and cultures; and in the lower Mississippi Delta, they were former slaves. Today, there is a racist element in the reaction toward immigrant labor moving into Ravenna. The cooperative movement has been welcoming to them, but the right-wing Lega Nord has played upon bigotry to equate votes for leftist parties with being soft on immigrants. In the 1970s, the Italian Communist Party was called the third “leg” of the worker movement in Ravenna (in addition to cooperative and union movements). It was instrumental in forging a partnership between the local government and the cooperative movement. According to Menzani, the “Red cooperatives were strong in Emilia Romagna because they were helped by the Italian Communist Party . . . [but] this is not to negate the efforts of the early members and support of other parties.” Menzani also claims that the communist organizations were originally opposed to purchasing land, and their slogan was “La Terra Non Si Acquista, Ma Si Conquista,” which, roughly translated, means, “Why buy land when we can force them to give it to us?” (Menzani 2007: 442, 184). Giovanni Errani, former CEO of Terremerce, a large transformation cooperative, told me that this was the stupidest idea he had ever heard. Contrary to other sources that describe the first purchases of land as a result of landowners refusing to rent land to the Socialist/Communist cooperatives, Menzani says that “the Communist organizations gave

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up on this because they were afraid of losing members to the other groups, so they started to buy land.” Menzani is in agreement with other authors that the story of cooperation from liberation to 1970 is one in which collectives ceased to be “transmission belts for politics” and where there was a gradual acceptance of the market (Menzani 2007: 186, 197). Others would disagree about the degree to which ideology has been de-emphasized. The Communist Party has in fact been accused of doing everything from selling public lands to collectives to placing party activists in managerial positions in collectives and taking kickbacks from them to support the party. Old newspapers showed that there was a scandal in which the League of Cooperatives was said to have falsified the balance sheet in order to hand over profits to the party. The allegation was countered in an item-by-item accounting of where the money went, and in a statement that the low level of “profit” of the League was the cause of the “success” of the movement (Gemmiani 1955: 27). I found no evidence of direct collusion between collectives, labor unions, and the Communist Party, except being told repeatedly that they were “different aspects of the same struggle against monopoly and state capitalism in Italy.” It was rumored that the practice of workers contributing an amount of their monthly wages to the PCI was widespread. It was no secret that the purpose of the Festa de l’Unità in every local town in the 1970s was to raise money for the Communist Party’ newspaper. Ravenna’s collectives are definitely not subsidized by the PCI, but it is possible that some voluntary donations to the party might come from the wages of hired technicians and administrators. Many administrators are politically active, but they also have the necessary job qualifications. According to Landi, “politics and strikes” were the only thing the braccianti could agree on, but he also made the point that attendance at demonstrations and strikes was obligatory and that braccianti could be docked a day’s pay for failing to show up (Landi 1998: 64, 57). But while Communists have been accused of favoring the growth of collectives in order to get votes (Picci 1968: 90), there wasn’t a Communist administration in Ravenna until the early 1970s. Mario Tampieri and other cooperative leaders were fiercely independent and protective of the boundaries between collectives, unions, and politics. The longtime ruling Christian Democrat Party, although critical of the Communists for their support of collectives, was well known for what David Kertzer called the sottogoverno, or “under-the-table spoils system” (Kertzer 1980: 267). According to Christopher Duggan, “Clientelistic practices are deeply embedded in Italian political culture, and for decades the Christian Democrats took advantage of their dominant position to ‘colonize’ large sections of the State” (Duggan 2004: 30).

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CAN THE “COOPERATIVE SPIRIT” SURVIVE? Even as late as the 1970s, being a member of the Communist Party in Ravenna meant that a person was well-versed in ideas about the class struggle and how everyone should behave as cooperators. They were proud that the braccianti in Ravenna had successfully managed to build an “island of socialism” within a capitalist society. They continually expressed concerns about farm workers in my native California and proposed suggestions based on their experience in the unions and collectives. The cooperative spirit on these oldest voluntary agricultural production cooperatives in the world was still strong in the 1970s, almost one hundred years since the first one was established in 1883. Five generations of braccianti relied upon them. Although the cooperative spirit on the collective farms has disappeared since then, along with the entire class of braccianti, the farms have not become privatized. It would be inaccurate to say that they have gone through an organizational “life cycle,” as occurs with many intentional societies that begin with great passion and end with privatization. These days, when the director of the Ravenna Braccianti Agricultural Production Cooperative goes home to his town of Piangipane (Cry Bread), the old-timers in the bar always ask him how the cooperative is doing and whether it has bought any more land (Galavotti 2012). He remembers when everyone in the entire town worked in the collective, but those days are over. It still has the same mission of making work and still provides more employment than large private farms, but most of the current members think of the collective as an employer and do not think of themselves as the owners. But there is still a cooperative spirit in Ravenna. Cooperatives of all kinds dominate the local economy and society. Fabrizio Matteucci, mayor of Ravenna, spoke at the 60th Anniversary Conference of Legacoop in June of 2010 and said that almost everyone in Ravenna belongs to the COOP store and other cooperatives. The retired CEO of the giant Cooperativa Muratori Cementisti (CMC), who I met and talked with on the pilgrimage to Ostia in November of 2012, is now a board member and volunteers at an addiction rehabilitation center (Beletti 2012). The tradition of “working together,” dating back to those ancestors with their wheelbarrows, has somehow managed to survive without its union and political organs or its class-struggle ideological heart.

CONCLUSION

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬ Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has. (Mead n.d.)

T

o return to the beginning, to that moment forty-six years ago when this new anthropologist undertook an uncertain project of researching the world’s oldest voluntary collective farms, burdened by culturally inflicted, almost subconscious prejudices to the effect that they could never succeed— to remember now this point of departure is to recognize the impact and significance of these enterprises both personally and in a wider framework. The hopes I had as a young student that anthropology might be a relevant tool in helping societies overcome problems, by the device of extricating socially useful, efficacious ideas from one culture and transfusing them into another (where feasible and indicated), was reinforced after having had the privilege to experience the lives and history of this small group of Homo sapiens that survived precariously in the menacing atmosphere of Italian economics and politics. There are things about these people, and how they did what they did, that are unique, inspiring, and hopefully transportable to people similarly besieged elsewhere. As this book nears completion, its relevance to modern problems grows with every newscast. Hardly a day goes by when we do not hear of a group of workers here or there who are purchasing an unprofitable factory or buying land in an attempt to preserve or expand threatened jobs and security. If the Ravenna farm workers have done one thing, it is to demonstrate the possibility that collectively, utilizing compassionate wisdom, we could perhaps avert some of the disasters to our species that seem to lie ahead and find a way to survive ourselves. Because “the behaviors associated with cooperation are so broad that the word is almost a synonym for social behavior,” Erasmus does not use the word “cooperation” in his book (Erasmus 1984: 5). In light of this, it is

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perplexing that he seems to agree with those who believe that there is “no other nexus between man and man than naked self-interest” with the “market as the ideal form of human interaction,” rather than the opposite belief that “there is more to human beings than rational egoism, competition and acquisition, more to society than a contract between logically calculating and autonomous individuals” (Mishra 2016). The Ravenna collectives were able to achieve their ends only through cooperation. They did so without the direct support of any centralized government, outside intervention, massive expropriation of land, or violent revolution. Their survival was made possible by their collective effort, by the existence of cooperative organizations that could deal with the threats they faced. Alone, standing in all their individual dignity, they would never have survived the onslaught of “progress.” Long before the emergence of collective farms, the beleaguered braccianti raised the cry “All or None” in dealing with their economic oppressors and formed mutual aid societies to stay alive against harsh odds. It was this early system of defense that laid the base for the strong agricultural unions that soon followed. The braccianti developed a distinctive internal tradition, a collective consciousness, to remember, recall, and revere the history of their class. Awareness of this shared heritage became an effective weapon in dealing with the catastrophes of economics and nature, the chicanery of politicians, and the confusions within their own ranks that beset them at every turn. In addition, they developed a true conservatism, in perhaps the best meaning of the word—to conserve labor, to husband resources, to be frugal and tenacious—and this helped immeasurably in the drive to survive. The Ravenna braccianti who took matters into their own hands to cooperate in making a future for themselves are not alone. After the 2001 terrorist attack on the World Trade Center, Frances Moore Lappé, a counterculture heroine who wrote Diet for a Small Planet in 1971, set off with her daughter Anna to visit grassroots movements that have had successes in “refusing to be bystanders or victims of history” (Lappé and Lappé 2002: 12). Their Hope’s Edge begins with a 1921 quote from Lu Hsun: Hope cannot be said to exist, nor can it be said not to exist. It is just like the roads across the earth. For actually there were no roads to begin with, but when many people pass one way a road is made. (ibid.: epigraph)

They visited edible schoolyards in California, formerly landless laborers in Brazil, microloan recipients in Bangladesh, farmers rejecting genetically modified seeds in India and the Himalayas, the Green Belt movement in Kenya, Wisconsin farmers cooperating to survive, and those responsible for the rebellion against McDonald’s in France. All these groups “are doing what the dominant worldview says can’t be done.” As we all know because

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it is beaten into us every day, the dominant worldview is “that the present system of global capitalism—no matter what its downsides—is the best we flawed humans can do” (ibid.: 31, 29). “Welcome,” the Lappés say, “to the end of history,” and to a system that is thought to be “the inevitable result of our nature” (ibid.: 29). They refer here to Yoshihiro Francis Fukuyama’s 1989 article “The End of History?” in which he makes a case that there is wide agreement that liberal democracy, and a capitalistic economic system allegedly based on “natural science,” cannot be improved upon, despite all the social ills associated with it. Fukuyama said he knew this article would be misunderstood. His primary purpose was to extol the value of democracy, and he publically distanced himself from the neoconservative movement he helped create. In 1995 he wrote Trust: Social Virtues and Creation of Prosperity, and in 1999 he published “The Great Disruption” in the Atlantic Monthly, where he sounds more like an anthropologist than an economist as he makes the following points: The culture of individualism, which in the laboratory and the marketplace leads to innovation and growth, spilled over into the realm of social norms, where it corroded virtually all forms of authority and weakened the bonds holding families, neighborhoods, and nations together. Human beings are by nature social creatures, whose most basic drives and instincts lead them to create moral rules that bind them together into communities.

Fukuyama also said, “Man’s natural condition is not the war of ‘every man against every man’ envisioned by Thomas Hobbes but rather a civil society made orderly by the presence of a host of moral rules” (Fukuyama 1999). It is understandable that Fukuyama would want to distance himself from statements such as Walter Block’s, that “anything that weakens private property rights promotes barbarism” (Block 2011: 1). Who would want to align themselves with a system that allows thirty-two thousand children to die of hunger each day? Isn’t that barbaric? Who can be proud of the destruction in a single century of such a vast number of species, or a system that has poked a continent-sized hole in the ozone, or one where the food-production system disrupts life with greenhouse gases, or one where only a few hundred individuals control most of the world’s wealth (Lappé and Lappé 2002: 19– 20)? This disturbing trajectory seems to indicate that anthropologist Leslie White, who at least did not want all this to happen, might have been right all along. White, one of the most influential anthropologists of the twentieth century, came to the University of California at Santa Barbara (my alma mater) in the early 1970s to write his last book and to give occasional lectures about the inevitable deployment of even the most unpopular technological inventions, including supersonic transport and nuclear bombs.

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The idea that we are all just cogs in a cultural machine headed toward oblivion, and that anthropology is yet another dismal science composed of disinterested scholars analyzing the process, did not go over so well with my generation. We were in the streets trying to end the Vietnam War. We wanted alternatives. We wanted to have a voice. And if it’s true that, as Lu Hsun says, “when many people pass one way a road is made,” were we wrong to think that another future could be possible? Could now be the time to seriously consider radical suggestions for changes in land-tenure practices bubbling up from hotbeds of sustainability and “Slow Food” activism in our own culture? Robert Karp, who is a leader in the local food and sustainable agriculture movement, gave a speech in 2009 titled “Who Owns the Land?” in which he said, The idea is actually rather simple: Land is not a commodity! Think about it. Human beings did not grow the land or create the land. It is a gift given by the universe to all of us. When we buy and sell land we are really buying and selling certain rights of use to the land, rather than the land itself. And rights are always balanced by responsibilities. Therefore, having the right to a certain piece of land should always come with specific responsibilities, such as social, economic and environmental stewardship. When we begin to understand this, we will begin to structure our economy and our laws differently. The consequences of treating farmland as a commodity are tragic. Consider the following: When capital is used to buy farmland under the current systems, that capital becomes unproductive. This is because that capital has not been used to bring anything new into existence, which is the ultimate mission of capital. The land is still farmed as it was before. What does happen is that the land becomes more expensive. Because the capital is tied up in it, the land values appreciate and the farm rents rise. Farmland thus becomes less and less affordable to farmers. The value of the land is no longer tied to what a farmer can pay, but rather to what an investor can pay. This, in turn, leads to the rampant conversion of farmland into subdivisions and other development, the results of which we witness every day in the loss of beauty, productivity and biodiversity from our landscape. (Karp 2009)

It may not matter anymore, but it is worth pointing out that when communal lands in Ravenna were enclosed and given to nobles, they were charged with the responsibility for development that would benefit the peasants— but they did nothing of the kind. They wanted to keep the people out so that they could use it for hunting parties, and the same thing happened all over the world. The result is that “the destiny of so many,” according to Michael Blim, “is now tied to that of capitalism”—but where capitalism is going, and whether it is going in the direction of “human betterment,” is unclear (2000: 31). According to John Bodley, the power-elite are driving a growth pattern that concentrates wealth and power in a way that weakens democracy, reduces sustainability, and brings a loss of autonomy and “restricted opportu-

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nities for social action.” While growth is generally assumed to be desirable, it “may produce more poor than wealthy and ultimately more social costs than benefits” (2001: 367). And as for the middle class, “success,” according to Naomi Klein, “is a party to which they were not invited, and they know in their hearts that this rising wealth and power is somehow directly connected to their growing debts and powerlessness” (Klein, cited in Sorkin 2017). The world we live in, according to Pankaj Mishra’s “Welcome to the Age of Anger,” is “more literate, interconnected, and prosperous than at any other time in history,” but he also says that “for nearly three decades, the religion of technology and GDP and the crude 19th-century calculus of self-interest have dominated politics and intellectual life . . . [ignoring] the lure of resentment for the left-behind” (2016). What this means for a formerly industrialized city such as Baltimore, for example, is that although a “green revival” of the decaying parts of the city would create good jobs and a better future for people, the necessary investments won’t be made—unless there is public intervention—if there are more profitable ways for self-interested investors to make money (Lapavitsas and Jay 2014). But this does not have to happen. In the United States we have only to look at previous decades marked by progressive responses to automation and dislocation of workers through funding of education, the GI Bill, increases in minimum wages, and strong unions to see that the problem today, in the United States at least, is not with machines replacing wage labor but with politicians “who have failed for decades to support policies that let workers share the wealth from technology-led growth” (“No Robots Are Not Killing the American Dream” 2017). In “stark contrast to the United States and Britain, where wages have stagnated even while corporate profits have soared,” workers in Sweden welcome new technology because they “have consistently gained a proportionate slice” of the benefits (Goodman 2017). There are still many who believe that large agribusinesses (requiring massive government subsidies) are an inevitable result of progress. Without them, the world would starve, and the recent counterculture concern for better quality food is therefore elitist. It is hard to imagine they mean for the “end of history” to resemble the horrific Food, Inc. documentary (Kenner 2008). According to New York Times food editor Mark Bittman, it doesn’t have to be that way: “There’s plenty of food . . . we just have to grow food more smartly than with the brute force . . . [and ‘rapaciousness’] of industrial methods, and we need to address the circumstances of the poor” (2014). These issues, which are important in the United States and other developed countries, are even more relevant to Italy, where the only hope for agriculture is the selling of the Italian brand of responsibly produced healthy food. In Ravenna, there is little or none of the indiscriminate use of pesticides, ge-

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netically modified cultivars, or gigantic, confined animal-feeding operations such as those found in the United States. The Ravenna countryside is still alive with small family farms. All of the small towns seem to have prospered in the last forty plus years, and the result is an agro-ecological, as opposed to agribusiness, model of development. According to John Bodley’s study in the state of Washington, there is less concentration of wealth and less control by outsiders in small towns and villages, and “the most equitable distribution of economic power is found in the smallest places that have grown the least” (2001: 367). That assessment seems to apply here. The southern Indian state of Kerala is another good example of a decentralized region created by political action inside what some Keralans regard as “fascist India.” In 1939, a Marxist party was formed to oppose the caste system and bring about land reform. It never occupied factories or seized land but chose to enter state politics, winning some years and losing others, but essentially running the state since 1957. “Instead of being associated with repression or failure, [this] party of Marx is widely associated with huge investments in education that have produced a 95 percent literacy rate, the highest in India, and a health care system where citizens earning only a few dollars a day still qualify for free heart surgery.” Millions of educated Indians now work in the “supercharged, capitalistic economies of the Persian Gulf,” and Kerala ironically benefits “because of the decidedly un-communistic lives the younger generations are pursuing.” But even with the money flowing in from the Gulf, Kerala runs a deficit, used in some cases to subsidize workers’ salaries in the unprofitable production of coir (a bristly fabric used for welcome mats). The plan is for the government “to subsidize the workers’ salaries for about 10 years, until they retire and their jobs most likely disappear” ( Jaffe and Doshi 2017). Although it seems pathetic in comparison to more bold and ambitious social and political movements, and may reflect just how oppressed we all already are by global capitalism, another way that has been shown to be effective in changing capitalism is through intentional changes of consumption patterns. As Marvin Harris says, the ultimate source of wealth and power for the elite is that the rest of us have bought into the rat race of conspicuous consumption (Harris 1989a: 374). According to Michael Blim, consumers can “create alternative worlds” and “influence the direction of capitalist production” (2000: 33). Although he may not have believed it when he wrote it, Erasmus had a point when he said that “we” need to separate the evils from capitalism to finally purify the market economy (1984: vi). The “we” he refers to is not the government, even a democratically elected one, where “specialists” make the plans. It can only mean “ordinary people,” in his view only through “consumer choice.” In other words, it seems that we can only have a say using our paychecks. This is how we may even be able, as in the

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famous saying attributed to Mahatma Gandhi, to “be the change you wish to see in the world.” What Gandhi actually said was that “if we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. [. . .] We need not wait to see what others do.” He was aware that individual action alone (e.g., using paychecks) is not enough and that “unjust authority can be overturned only by great numbers of people working together with discipline and persistence” (Morton 2011). Cultures, and even governments, can change, sometimes even rapidly. Some of the strangest communes of the 1960s and 1970s were able to make a lasting impact by attacking the hegemony, or ideological domination, of mainstream cultural values and beliefs, inching us toward what Gramsci referred to as a “war of position,” or struggle to gain influence. To Gramsci, consent of the governed always has to be manufactured in the realm of ideas, and if people begin to see through these old ideas, the status quo becomes difficult to maintain by other more coercive forms of domination. Rachel Meunier, who grew up on “The Farm” in Tennessee, explains how young people began to spread their counterhegemonic messages “more persuasively through music” (1994). And the international Slow Food movement, which originated in northern Italy, is an interesting test case for intentionally directed ideological change on a global scale. According to an article by Fabio Parasecoli in Gastronomica, “Postrevolutionary Chowhounds: Food, Globalization, and the Italian Left,” Slow Food seeks “to undermine the corporate vision of food as pure commodity.” Parasecoli quotes Rachel Lauden in describing it as a kind of “Culinary Luddism” that seeks “to turn back the flood tide of industrialized food in the First World, and to prevent such foods from engulfing traditional ethnic food elsewhere” (2003: 29, 35). The “counter-cuisine” movement, the origin of which can be traced back to the early 1970s with Frances Moore Lappé’s Diet for a Small Planet, now promotes biodiversity and sustainable development through saving and distributing traditional heirloom (i.e. non– genetically modified) seeds and supporting farmers who grow them through farmers’ markets and community supported agriculture. Parasecoli tells the reader to take what he says with “extreme suspicion” because, as a member of the Italian Left, he recognizes that “our increasing talk about food” may be “an unwitting attempt to redirect energies that can no longer be employed in any revolutionary project toward some other goal.” He is too modest. It was Carlo Petrini, a union militant from the Piedmont region in North Italy, who founded what has become the international Slow Food movement. It was a reaction against the “Fast Food” of industrial civilization and how we have all become “enslaved by speed . . . [and the] universal folly . . . that mistake(s) frenzy for efficiency” (Parasecoli 2003: 38, 33). The Slow Food organization rejects fast food and fast life, and the sym-

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bol of the snail is chosen “because it moves slowly, eating its way through life” (Slow Food International Website n.d.). Although the Italian Communist Party historically had a narrowly moralistic, puritanical, and judgmental mindset, in 1968 a new generation of leftists was expelled from the Communist Party because of their unorthodox views. These young dissidents “felt that power should be creative” and that it “should not automatically imply acceptance of party morals: sex had to be freely experienced as well as drugs, music, free speech, and collective life.” A new organization, Arcigola, was founded and promoted through a communist daily newspaper Il Manifesto. Ironically, “ARCI” stands for the “Recreational Association of Italian Communists,” and the “GOLA” refers to food and gluttony. In 1986, during a turbulent time in which unions lost power against the large corporations and “all sense of community and solidarity disappeared,” Il Manifesto began to publish a supplement entitled Gambero Rosso (“Red Prawn”). It “aimed to change the frequently gloomy and sullen image of leftist initiatives” and immediately increased its sales by 30 percent upon proclaiming, Let’s wage war. A war declared by a small group of very determined, very aware people against retailers, producers, restaurateurs. Not all of them, of course, only those who constantly daily try to fool the consumer. In the past it was a struggle of the poor. You could be cheated on weight. Today we’re in an affluent society, so you get cheated on quality, health laws are not respected, people take advantage of their client’s ignorance. (Parasecoli 2003: 31–33)

Il Manifesto was known for its clever sarcasm, including coverage on the day of the election of Pope Benedict XVI featuring a large photo with the title “The German Shepherd.” It printed its last issue in 2012, but the Slow Food movement it started is still a force to be reckoned with. Organic farming, even in the United States, fuels rural livelihoods because of “booming consumer demand for local and sustainable foods, [which] experts say could have a broad impact on the food system” (Dewey 2017). Organic products were in the top six in terms of gross U.S. sales in 2012 (Batcha 2012), and sales of organic products increased by 23 percent in 2016 in the United States over the previous year (Phillips 2017). Counterhegemonic practices (such as the increase in sales of organic foods) could be birth pangs of a new collective consciousness, one that is intentionally beginning to resist the “outdated model of development” that Pope Francis warns is taking a toll on humanity and the environment (Horowitz 2017). Our world, even with all its problems, has many examples of voluntary, one could say counterhegemonic, organizations such as those studied by Elinor Ostrom that cooperatively manage resources, as well as other organizations that provide free food, clothing, shelter, and health-

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care; send doctors into war zones; free the innocent from prisons; provide animals to the needy who then become donors by “passing on the gift” of the offspring to others; enrich the lives of latchkey kids; teach the illiterate to read; and on ad infinitum. Maybe these organizations are helpless when it comes to what Thomas Piketty describes as an “explosion” in inequality (Piketty, cited in Mishra 2016). But, it is also possible that through the combined actions of many “very determined, very aware” people dedicated to creating a more humane world, the people who are suffering under the current system may be able, as the Ravenna braccianti did, to develop a new and very powerful collective consciousness. The Ravenna braccianti were able to do this, as Gramsci theorized, by “break[ing] through the ideological domination of the ruling class” (Kertzer 1979: 324). Every time I participate in a protest; go to a farmers’ market to buy organic, locally grown foods; or contribute time or money to nonprofit or nongovernmental organizations, I think about what a group of “very determined, very aware” people accomplished and what the end result could very possibly be. Nobody knows if liberal democracy, with its global operations that promote “integration among shrewd elites” and incite “ressentiment [an ‘intense mix of envy, humiliation, and powerlessness’] everywhere else” will save itself through another of Gramsci’s “passive revolutions” by somehow addressing “the grotesquely unequal societies” it has created (Mishra 2016). Old ideas about the social order in Italy (and elsewhere) are weakening, and “from Sicily to Emilia, the biggest party, and always growing, is that of the abstainers” (Ellwood 2017). This could be an indication, in the words of W. B. Yeats, that “the centre cannot hold.” But without mass political participation, if “The best lack all conviction, while the worst / Are full of passionate intensity,” who knows what sort of “rough beast” will “Slouch towards Bethlehem to be born?” (Yeats, cited in Tabor 2015). Because I am alive, I am forced (as James Baldwin was, against all odds) to be an optimist and to believe that Homo sapiens, the “thinking” or “wise” man, will not sit idly by as liberal democracy descends into tyranny. Writing in 1989, Marvin Harris predicted that the proliferation of new communication systems could enable people to “develop a sense of a world community” to avoid a “suicidal trajectory” (Harris 1989a: 501). While the Easter Islanders had no idea they were fouling their own nest, we have the benefit of books. We also have the opportunity to learn about the entire history of our planet from the small devices in our purses and pockets (providing we don’t use them only to get into arguments with strangers and watch videos of cats). We should be smart enough to filter out the “fake news,” be skeptical about the prospects for supernatural intervention, and not allow the directing hand of elite-dominated governments to control us. We have a shared responsibility to educate ourselves, to take political action as individ-

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uals and groups, and to do whatever else we can during our lives to leave this earth in better shape than we found it. Ravenna’s “All or None” story proves that collective action, even against harsh odds, is not a utopian fantasy, as many would have us believe. And “culture,” as E. M. Adams has said, “is not simply a historical given, subject to deterministic laws of evolution. It allows for development through criticism from within” (1987).

G LO SS A RY

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬ A colmata: Reclamation of swamps by directing soil-laden water to form “small hills.” Accoltellatori: “Knife-wielders,” in reference to a group of anti-Mazzini Republicans who targeted “the elite owners of the New Italy.” Affituari: Entrepreneur renters financed by French capital that established capitalistic farms in the Ravenna countryside. Agroturismo: Tourism in rural areas featuring healthy food and lifestyle. Alice Nel Paese Delle Meraviglie: Alice in Wonderland. Arcigola: “ARCI” stands for the “Recreational Association of Italian Communists,” and the “GOLA” refers to food and gluttony, a predecessor to the Slow Food movement. Assegnatari: Agrarian reform recipients. Associazione Generale degli Operai Braccianti del Comune di Ravenna: General Association of Day Laborers of the Municipality of Ravenna. Azdor and azdora: Businessman and businesswoman, the heads of the patriarchal tenant farm family. Azienda: Farm, or business. Bassa pianura: The low plain of the Po River Valley. “Bella Ciao Bella Ciao”: Post–World War II song that retroactively became the anthem of the partisans. Biennio rosso: Two “Red” years, a period after World War I with factory strikes and occupation of rural land. Boaria: Capitalist farm or ranch. Braccianti: Landless laborers who work with their arms. Briscola: Card game indigenous to Romagna. Brusone: Fungal disease affecting rice. Campanilismo: Bell-towerism, or loyalty to one’s own town.

glossary

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Casa Popolare, Case del Popolo: People’s House or Houses of the People, built by local people for social activities, such as playing briscola, and also housing union and cooperative offices. Camere del Lavoro/Ufficio Collocamento di Lavoro: Labor bureau and hiring hall. Cintura Rossa: The Red Belt (stronghold of left wing in Central Italy) Circolo: A club associated with “Red” (Left Wing), “Green” (Republican), or “White” (Catholic) Case del Popolo. Circolo Cooperatori Ravennate: An archive of the three cooperative movements in Ravenna founded by Mario Tampieri. Clientelismo: Patron-client patronage system. Collettivi: Informal labor cooperatives developed after World War II to share opportunities for work. Collina: Hills, the hill region of Emilia-Romagna. Coltivatore diretto: Small farm owner. Compartecipazione: A system of sharecropping, either half (a partitanza), a third (terzeria), or a quarter (quarteria). Comune/comuni: Municipality or municipalities. Contadini: Farmers, either small owners, tenant farmers, sharecroppers, or laborers. Crumeri: Scabs, or literally “worms.” Fare lavorare i soci: “Make work” for the members (with crops that lost money). Festa de l’Unità: Annual festivals in each town to support the Italian Communist Party’s newspaper l’Unità, which now supports the left-wing successor parties. Fondo di previdenza: Reserve fund made up by a portion of collective members’ wages that they designate to stay in the collective. Gambero Rosso: “Red Prawn,” now a food and wine magazine, was originally based on a supplement printed by the Communist newspaper Il Manifesto dedicated to promoting the philosophy of Arcigola. “Giovinezza”: “Youth,” official anthem of the Italian National Fascist Party. Giunte Populare: People’s groups that organized following World War II to rebuild war-torn communities. “Gli Scariolanti”: “The Wheelbarrowers,” a song referencing the manual laborers who reclaimed all the swampland surrounding Ravenna. Il Duce: Benito Mussolini, “the chief.” Il Manifesto: A communist newspaper not connected to the Communist Party, last issue published in 2012. Il Passatore: “The ferryman,” supposedly a Robin Hood–type bandit, only he never gave to the poor.

224

glossary

L’Avanti!: Official newspaper of the Italian Socialist Party. Lavoro nero: “Black labor,” work done for cash with no social security payments. Legge stralcio: Italian land reform law after World War II, a partial law that was to be followed later by a more comprehensive land redistribution. Liberta e Lavoro: Name of a Catholic collective established in Ravenna as part of land reform after World War II. Lire: The Italian currency until 2001, when Italy converted to the euro. In the original 1970s research, lire were converted to U.S. dollars based on what was then the exchange rate ($1=627 lire, which would be multiplied by 6.25 for value with inflation in 2015). Conversion of historical lire is based on ISTAT re-evaluation of lire (see http://www.sandrodir emigio.com/economia/tabella_rivalutazione_lira_euro.htm), and conversion to 2015 USD from fxtop.com. Mezzadria, mezzadri, mezzadro: Literally meaning “half,” it is the tenant farming system in which tenants received a house and paid half the expenses and received half the product. The mezzadri are the tenant farmers; mezzadro is a singular tenant farmer. Mondine: Women rice paddy weeders. Municipalismo: The strategy of development on a municipal level from the ground up instead of dictated by central organizations. Nocino: An after-dinner digestive liqueur made from walnuts. Nuovo Rapporto: The “New Relationship” in the 1950s between collective members and their organizations that potentially increased/reduced union wages or shares. Padrone/padroni: Landlord(s), boss(es). Paese: A small town, village, or also a country. Partigiani: World War II partisans. Piantata: Distinctive organization of fields and vine-covered trees developed by the Gauls and expanded by the Romans. Pineta: Pine forest along the Adriatic Sea in Ravenna. Provincie: Provinces, equivalent to U.S. counties. Puletica (dialect): Politics. Regioni: Regions, equivalent to U.S. states. Risorgimento: “Resurgence,” a nineteenth-century movement to unify different regions of Italy into one kingdom. Romagna, Romagnoli: The southeastern part of the Emilia-Romagna region, historically speakers of the Romagnol dialect, including major cities of Cesena, Faenza, Forli, Imola, Ravenna, Rimini, and San Marino, which is a landlocked state in the Romagna region. Sbracciantizzazione: Fascist policy of eliminating rural wage work and replacing it with sharecropping.

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Settimana Rossa: “Red Week,” a national strike when farmworkers and tenant farmers deposed authorities in Ravenna and mistakenly believed that a people’s army had overtaken Rome. Signorial rule: Rule by “gentlemen” or “lords,” described by John Larner in Lords of Romagna, in which feudal lords moved to the cities to usurp control of the governments. Sottogoverno: Literally “under the government,” referring to an under-thetable spoils system. Stalle sociale: Cooperative barn and dairy. Strapaese: “Hyper” or “super” country was a literary and cultural movement during Italian fascism that portrayed rural peasants and life as wholesome in diametric opposition to the city. Svolta della Bolognina: Bologna’s turning point or “shift” in 1989 when the Italian Communist Party was dissolved to join with the center left. Tagilatelle or capelletti with ragu or passetelli in brodo: Emilia-Romagna flat noodle or stuffed pasta with tomato sauce or pasta made with bread crumbs and parmesan served in chicken broth. Trattoria: A restaurant. Trisnonni: “Triple” or great-great-grandparents. Zanzari: Mosquitoes. Zona a larga: The swamp zone in the low plain (bassa pianura), a large-farm extensive crop zone. Zona appoderata: The tree zone on the higher plain, home mainly to small farms and intensive crops.

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INDEX

‫ﱸﱷﱶ‬ Note: Page numbers in italics indicate figures and tables. A absentee landowners, 28, 104, 116, 134 accoltellatori (knife-wielders), 102–3, 153 Adams, E. M., 221 affituari or “renters” (entrepreneurs), 92, 95, 99, 120 Africa: colonialism, 117, 119, 131, 143; the commons in, 18–19; emigration policy and, 147; fascism and, 147, 198–99; immigrant workers from, 54, 80 agitation/demands: by braccianti, 116–17, 119, 126; employment/unemployment and, 119, 120–21; politics and, 119; tenant farmers and, 126 agrarian reform: about, 103, 137, 148–49, 150–51; capitalism and, 90, 100, 101–2, 103, 161; elites’ opposition to, 148; family farms and, 45, 48, 57, 149, 151, 153, 166, 167, 169–70, 182; fascism and, 103, 133; fiscal policy under, 191; immigrant workers and, 169; individualism and, 169; in larga, 152, 168–70; large farm collectives under, 152; Marshall Plan’s support for, 150; modern technology under, 150, 151, 166; reclamation of land under, 150; report on, 165; sacrifices and, 169; socialism and, 108; strikes and, 73; technicians under, 151; underemployment and, 172; women and, 73 agribusiness: about, 13, 159, 161; agroecological model versus, xvi, 54; braccianti and, 74–75; cooperatives and, 51, 189;

employment/unemployment and, 120–21, 177, 179; extensive crops, 120, 150, 161; fascism and, 138; the future of humanity and, 216–17; globalization and, 181; immigrant workers and, 48–49, 180; income per hectare, 159; intensive crops, 53, 161, 162, 165; in Italy, 53; laborer statistics, 166, 177; labor hours per hectare in, 180; in larga, 22, 64, 163; large landowners and, 136, 158; modern technology and, 120–21; in Ravenna, 28; in “Red Belt,” 63–64; in US, 38, 105, 162–63, 209, 211, 216; wages as cost of production in, 165–66 agriculture: methods for, 43, 49, 54, 181, 191, 216–17; population in province of Ravenna in, 28, 51, 151, 162, 164, 177, 179, 206. See also agribusiness; braccianti (agricultural laborers); braccianti collectives; large landowners, private; technicians; tenant farmers (mezzadri) agro-ecological model, xvi, 3, 54, 207, 215, 217, 218, 219. See also sustainable systems agro-industrial complex. See agribusiness agrotourism, 45, 46, 72 Alberani, Alberto, 62 Albonetti, Pietro, vi Alfonsine, 23, 30, 58, 72, 124, 135, 152, 157 Alighieri, Dante, 87 Alleanza delle Cooperative Italiane (Italian Cooperative Alliance), 33 “All or None” (“Tutti o Nessuno”), vi, xv, 118–19, 123, 213, 221 anarchists, 4, 60, 64, 74, 105, 109, 111, 118, 126 Angelini, Claudia Bassi, 71, 103

246

index

animal husbandry, 171–72, 181 anthropological studies: the commons in, 18–19; cooperatives in, 2–3, 6, 7; culture change and, xiv–xv; and experiences in Ravenna, 2, 2, 22–27, 26, 39, 57; the future of humanity and, xii–xiii, xiv, 6, 155–56, 212, 214–15; methods and research, xv– xvi, 2–3, 5–6, 195; oral history interviews in, 6, 132, 134, 185, 195; participant observation in, 5–6, 195, 201; scale and power theory, xiii–xiv, 155–56; on selfinterest, xiii; on sustainable systems, xiii, xiv, 156, 215–16 anti-immigrant sentiment, 61, 72, 81, 209. See also immigrant workers appoderata: about, 21, 22; braccianti in, 28, 36; cooperatives in, 28, 34, 36, 36–37; family farms in, 161, 165; farmhouses in, 27, 43; intensive crops in, 161, 163, 165; tenant farmers in, 65, 90–91, 93, 97, 101–2, 125–26 Arcigola, 219 Arevalos, Bob, 24–25 Arevalos, Lisetta Rivalta, 24–25 Arevalos, Matteo, 25 aristocrats. See elites Armuzzi, Armando, 112, 113, 114, 115–16 Article 44 of Italian Constitution of 1947, 66, 166 artisan industrial businesses. See industrial businesses Associazione Generale degli Operai Braccianti del Comune di Ravenna (General Association of Day Laborers of the Municipality of Ravenna, the Association), 111, 112, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 122–23, 135 atheism, 72, 73 B Bagnacavallo, 30, 36, 102, 119, 171, 175 Bakunin, Mikhail, 105, 108, 111 Balbo, Italo, 136 Baldini, Nullo, and topics: agitation/ demands of laborers, 119, 132; the Association, 112, 115, 117; biography of, 110, 112, 119; collective renting, 124; cooperatives as large landowners, 131; cooperatives founder, 65, 94, 104, 109, 112, 184; entrepreneurship, 123, 135; the Federation, 122, 124, 205, 207; modern technology, 127; Mussolini meeting, 139;

public works jobs, 131; resistance, 158; sacrifices of braccianti, 184; Socialist Party, 115, 123, 126; “strike in reverse,” 134; tenant farmers, 127, 131; utopias, 115 Baldwin, James, xii, 220 Ballardini family, 26, 39, 45–49, 46, 47, 49, 55, 56, 57 Ballardini farm, 58, 178 Banfield, Edward C., 45, 77–78 Baravelli, Andrea, 52, 106, 108–9 barbarian invasions/foreign rulers, 84, 85 Barbero, Giuseppe, 152, 166, 168 Barbieri, Giovanni, 60–61 Barbieri, Guglielmo, 97–98, 99, 100 Bartoletti family, 26, 71, 178 Basevi Law, 188 Basque region of Spain, and Mondragón system, xiv, 13–14, 15, 16 bassa pianura (larga). See larga (bassa pianura) Bassi, Maria, 199 “Bella Ciao Bella Ciao” (“Hello/Goodbye My Beautiful/My Love”), 69, 70 Bellamy, Edward, 12 Bellas, Carl J., 174, 190 Bellini, Giulio, 66 Belluzzi-Pergami, Baron, 91, 112–13 Belotti, Lorenzo M., 150, 151 Benedict XVI (pope), 219 Beni Cervesi estate, 134–35 Bennett, John, 7–8 Berlinguer, Enrico, 25 Berlusconi, Silvio, 48, 65, 71–72, 79–80, 189 Bersani family and farm, 49, 50, 57, 57, 72, 182 Biennio Rosso (“two ‘Red’ years”) strike, 64, 133, 134, 136 Billi, Atos, 64, 65, 66, 137–38 Bittman, Mark, 216 Blackstone, William, 18 Blim, Michael, 215, 217 Bloch, Marc, 19 Block, Walter E., 17, 214 boaria (cattle ranch), 101–2 Bodley, John H., xiii–xiv, 54, 155–56, 215, 217 Bologna: about, 27–28, 75, 79; case study, 61, 66; the Church and, 66, 67, 88; “Emilian Model” and, 77; fascism and, 138; municipal socialism and, 77, 78–79, 81; PCI, 77, 78; politics and, 77, 79, 80, 81, 88; Provincial League of Cooperatives in, 195; “Red Belt” as term of use in, 60 Bonvicini, Adolfo, 207

index Boschuma, Ron A., 75 bottom up agenda, 14, 153–56 bourgeoisie: as entrepreneurs, 92; factories and, 103; fascism and, 92, 137; petit bourgeoisie, 108, 135, 136, 145; Republican support for, 106 BP (British Petroleum), 48 braccianti (agricultural laborers): about, 28, 41, 52, 59, 98–99; agitation/demands by, 116–17, 119, 126; anarchists and, 74, 105; in appoderata, 28, 36; CAB, 31, 45, 58, 58; career study of, 52; Catholic braccianti collective and, 149; class identity, 52, 58, 95, 97, 98, 100, 106, 124, 135; contracts as exploitative for, 98, 111–12; eight-hour day, 127; emigration as rejected by, 64, 108, 179; employment/unemployment for, 42, 48, 59, 187–88, 195, 213; as entrepreneurs, 74–75, 98–99, 112; family life/homes of, 37–40, 42, 43, 46, 49, 52–53; under fascism, 140; foreign contracts and, 117; individualism and, 118; large farm collectives and, 135; large landowners’ relationship with, 109, 113, 125; lives of, 89, 98–100; modern technology and, 104, 118, 126–27; monarchy/ antimonarchy, 105–6; petrochemical industry and, 51; piecework and, 95–96, 98, 123, 158; politics and, 74, 126, 158, 210; productive system analysis, 59, 159, 175, 187; in province of Ravenna, 41, 58, 59; reclamation of land by, 26, 40, 53, 94, 98, 114, 115, 129; reconstruction and, 71, 158, 199; rice cultivation, 116–17; rice cultivation by, 95; sacrifices by, 129, 179–80, 184; security for, 84, 134; as sharecroppers, 125, 146, 158; socialism and, 115; social justice and, 100; “strike in reverse” by, 134, 158–59, 160, 208–9; strikes by, 117, 123; syndicalism and, 105; tenant farmers and, 94, 96–97, 100–101, 125–26, 127–28; “Third Italy” and, 74–75; union leagues and, 121; wages/income for, 38, 49, 51, 75, 129, 131; women as, 29, 37, 49, 70, 71, 98; work assignments (“turn caller”), 28–29, 43; during World War II, 158 Braccianti Agricultural Cooperative (Cooperativa Agricola Braccianti, CAB), 31, 45, 58, 58 Braccianti Agricultural Production Cooperative of Longastrino, 45

247

braccianti collectives: about, 30, 33, 84, 118; agriculture methods in, 43, 49, 191, 216– 17; CAB, 31; collective renting by, 118–19, 124, 125, 129, 131, 182; construction cooperatives, 51–53; cooperative spirit in, xvi, 74, 173, 186, 205, 211; employment/ unemployment on, 55; family farms and, 49; the Federation and, 122, 128; in larga, 28, 61, 65, 124; marketing cooperatives, 74–75; membership, 30, 30, 33, 34, 34, 35, 36, 42, 48, 49, 57, 130, 158; merger of cooperatives and, 30, 30, 58, 58, 180; profits and, 124, 125; in province of Ravenna, 42; “Red,” 30, 31, 39–40, 158; Republican cooperatives and, 31; Settimana Rossa (Red Week) strike, 131–32; statistics on land, 30, 30, 33, 180; union membership, 158, 159, 208; wages/income for, 56, 125; woman in, 48, 49. See also braccianti (agricultural laborers); labor cooperatives Brighi, Guido, 174, 175 Brocchi family farm, 165, 166 Buber, Martin, 13 C CAB (Cooperativa Agricola Braccianti, Braccianti Agricultural Cooperative), 31, 45, 58, 58 Cabet, Étienne, 12, 114 Cabiati, Attilio, 126, 129 Ca’Bosco (House of the Forest), 170 Cagnoni, Pietro, 146 Calamandrei, Piero, 67 camere del lavoro (labor bureaus), 118, 121, 122, 126, 128 Campiano, 30, 35, 98, 135 capital-intensive agriculture. See agribusiness capitalism: about, xiv; agricultural reform and, 90, 100, 101–2, 103; boaria farms and, 101–2; Christian Democratic vision of, 148, 149; collectives in Ravenna versus, 13, 115; consumerism and, 12, 13, 15, 16, 217–18; critique of, 12, 13, 15, 16, 154, 217; entrepreneurship and, 112; fascism and, 137, 158; the future of humanity and, 215–16; intentional social change and, 217; intra-class warfare under, 105; labor and capital relationship, 89, 90, 92, 93, 97, 100, 101; Legacoop on, 189; political economy and, 141–42; private ownership of land and, 15; underemployment under, 159; unions and, 6. See also agribusiness

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Cardoza, Anthony L., 101, 136, 138, 145 Carniero, Robert L., 155 Carraie, 26, 30, 35, 124, 124, 178, 180, 193 Carroll, Lewis, 1 Casadio, Claudio, 199–200 Cassa per il Mezzogiorno (Development Agency for the South), 80–81 Castiglione de Cervia, 30, 36, 124, 135 Castiglione di Ravenna, 30, 36, 124 castles of city-states, 86, 91 Catholic collectives, 29, 31, 108, 138, 148, 149, 189, 206 Catholic Confederation, 189 Catholicism. See Christian Democratic (“Whites”); Roman Catholic Church (the Church) Catholic Populari Party, 138 Catholic union, 31, 158, 159 cattle ranch (boaria), 101–2 Cavalli farm, 165–66, 167 Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), 25, 62, 68, 158 Cervia cooperative, 29, 52, 134–35, 199, 200 Cesarini, Cesar, 80 Cesena, 31, 32, 107, 142 CGIL (“Red” Labor Union), 29–30, 40, 149, 158, 159, 208 Chomsky, Noam, 18, 153, 154 Christian Democratic (“Whites”): agrarian reform and, 149; capitalism and, 148, 149; circolo for social interactions and, 39; CISL and, 31, 149, 158, 159; Constitution of 1947 and, 65–66; consumer cooperatives, 31; cooperation between collectives and, 210; cooperatives, 23, 29, 31, 60, 75; elections won by, 148; in Emilia-Romagna, 77; family farms and, 74; marketing cooperatives, 31; membership, 33; mutual aid organizations and, 4; PCI coalition with, 67, 79; in “Red Belt,” 63, 67, 74, 75, 79; Republican coalition with, 131; resistance and, 65; Socialist-Communist consensus with, 188–89; top down agenda under, 154 Christian Democrat Party, 31, 210. See also Christian Democratic (“Whites”) Christianity, 85. See also Christian Democratic (“Whites”); popes/papal rule; Roman Catholic Church (the Church) CIA (Central Intelligence Agency), 25, 62, 68, 158 circolo (“circle” or “club”), 39–40, 63, 98, 111

Circolo Cooperatori Ravennate (Ravenna Cooperators’ Circle), 69 CISL (“White” [Catholic] Labor Union), 31, 158, 159 civil society (social life), 157, 158, 214 class identity: braccianti, 52, 58, 95, 97, 98, 100, 106, 124; laborers, 9, 14, 65, 81, 104. See also elites Clemente VII (pope), 90 CLN (Committee for National Liberation post), 61, 157, 158 CMC (“Red” Construction Cooperative), 31–32, 211 Cold War, 62, 68 collective farms defined, xvi. See also collectives in Ravenna collective renting, 118–19, 124, 125, 129, 131, 182 collectives in Ravenna: about, xv, xvi, 4–5, 8, 14, 16, 36–40, 105, 159, 161, 182–83; in appoderata, 34, 36, 36–37; capitalism versus, 13, 115; Christian Democratic cooperation with, 210; common good, xvi, 3; the commons and, 19; communalism versus, 8, 115; competition and, xvi, 3, 13, 42, 54; cooperation/cooperative spirit in, xvi, 74, 173, 184–85, 186, 205, 211, 213; employment/unemployment, xvi, xvii, 5, 31, 43, 53, 55–56, 162, 178; extensive crops, 161; farm sizes, 58, 58; fiscal policy for, 191–92; in the hills (collina), 34, 36, 58; intensive crops, 42, 161, 163, 201; in larga, 34, 35, 41, 163; membership in, 5, 9, 33, 34, 37, 48, 69, 95, 177, 187; “New Relationship” in, 200; organic products and, 54, 58, 174, 180; patrimony in land and, 54, 58, 159, 182; PCI cooperation with, 209–11; popular support for, 208–9; productive system analysis, 55–56, 159, 162, 163–64, 175, 175, 187, 200–201; reclamation of land for, 4, 19–20, 26, 28, 40; “Red,” 23, 29–30, 31–32, 33, 128, 130, 133, 134, 158, 159, 187, 199, 206, 209; renting land to family farms by, 182; Republican membership in, 31; sacrifices in, 13, 179–80, 200; sale of land in, 43, 180; sharecroppers and, 197, 199; social predictability of, 11, 13; socioeconomic benefits of, xvi; solidarity in, 173, 185, 192, 196, 198; statistics, 4, 16, 33, 33–34, 57; sustainable systems in, 3, 58, 152, 156; technicians and, 173–74, 194, 195;

index underemployment solutions, 5, 51, 159, 162, 163–64, 174–79, 175, 176, 180–81, 205; unions and, 4, 14, 53; utopias and, 9, 20, 221; vertical organization and, 54, 174, 193, 202, 206, 207; women in, 5, 34, 37, 48, 53, 56, 69, 95, 177, 178, 185, 187, 202–3. See also braccianti collectives; province of Ravenna; worker-managed system collettivi (labor cooperatives), 8, 132–33, 158 collina (the hills), xxii, 21, 22, 34, 36, 58, 61 colonialism, 117, 119, 131, 133, 143 Committee for National Liberation post (CLN), 61, 157, 158 common (collective) good: collectives in Ravenna and, xvi, 3; individualism and, 15, 16–17; sacrifices for, 196; social incentives and, 201; in the South, 78; utopian/ collective social experiments and, 10 the commons (communal land): the Church and elites’ use of, 85, 91, 215; collectives in Ravenna and, 19; in Europe, 18, 19, 141; the future of humanity and, 18; private ownership of land versus, 17–19; reclamation of land and, 19–20, 113, 114–15, 152, 153, 185; in the South, 134 communalism: about, xiv, 7–8, 10–11, 108; collectives in Ravenna versus, 8, 115; communism and, 8, 9; Gemeinschaft approach in, 8, 9, 197; individual action and, 218; individualism versus, 8; large landowners’ usurpation of, 85–86, 88, 91, 112–13, 134; utopias and, 14, 20, 114. See also the commons (communal land) communism: communalism, 8, 9; Marshall Plan in Italy and, 62; PRC, 79; “Red Belt” and, 60, 158; religion and, 73; resistance and, 67. See also Italian Communist Party (PCI); “Reds” (Socialist-Communist) Communist Refoundation Party (PRC), 79 competition (economic competition): cooperatives and, xvi, 3, 13, 16, 42, 54, 118, 122, 206; elites on, 141; family farms and, 3, 42, 54, 206; globalization and, 16, 42, 54; human nature and, 15–16; industrial businesses and, 73–74; private ownership of land and, 17. See also individualism comuni (municipalities), 22, 86, 87 Confagricoltura (Unione Provinciale degli Agricoltori [Provincial Union of Agriculturalists]), 31, 33 conflicts/agitation/demands. See agitation/ demands

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Conselice, 30, 35, 116–17, 118, 124, 134–35 Conselice Braccianti Agricultural Production Cooperative, 117, 118 consortia, 118, 122, 191 the Consortium (consorzio), Republican, 128, 131, 134, 135, 139 construction cooperatives (building industry cooperatives), 30, 31–32, 51–53, 211 consumer cooperatives: Christian Democratic, 31; COOP Italia, 28, 107, 211; the Federation and, 135; labor cooperatives link with, 54, 108, 109; Legacoop and, 32; mutual aid organizations link with, 106–7; women and, 38 consumerism: about, 12; capitalism and, 12, 13, 15, 16, 217–18; communalism and, 8; consumer cooperatives and, 9–10; in Europe, 12; family farms versus, 79; globalization and, 148; local economies and, 45, 46; Marshall Plan, 150; resistance gains versus, 158; top down agenda and, 12 contadini (owner-operators), 28, 34, 38, 41, 57, 207 contadino (“farmer”), 28 cooperation: about, xiii, xvii, 6–10, 15, 184– 85; in collectives in Ravenna, 184–85, 213; ethos of, 68–71, 70, 71; family farms and, xvii, 171, 174–75, 182, 206–7; grassroots, xvii, 53, 207; legacy of, 1, 14, 107, 122, 159, 185, 213; marketing cooperatives and, 206, 207; with PCI, 210–11; private ownership of land versus, 15, 214; social incentives for, 201–5; with unions, 207–8; wages/ income and, xvii, 183. See also cooperative spirit; solidarity; worker-managed system Cooperativa Agricola Bracciantidi Longastrino (Braccianti Agricultural Production Cooperative of Longastrino), 45 cooperatives: about, xv–xvi, 1–4, 8–9, 19, 132–33, 161; anthropological studies and, 2–3, 6, 7; critiques, xv, xvii; globalization and, xvi, 42, 180, 181, 182; worldwide locations for, 161. See also braccianti collectives; collectives in Ravenna; labor cooperatives cooperative spirit: anthropological study on, xvi; in collectives, xvi, 74, 173, 186, 205, 211; in “Emilian model,” 4, 38, 75, 205; ethos of cooperation and, 69–71, 70, 71; as lacking in US, 186; in province of Ravenna, xv, 173, 211; social incentives for

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cooperation and, 205; the South’s lack of, 80–81. See also cooperation COOP Italia ( “Red” Consumer Cooperative), 28, 107, 211 COR (Consorzio Ortofruticole Ravennate, Ravenna Vegetable and Fruit Consortium), 207 Corcoran, Hazel, 206 Corner, Paul, 68 Costa, Andrea, and topics: anarchists, 105, 109, 111; the Association, 111, 112, 115; biography of, 105, 106, 111; collective renting, 118; cooperatives, 115; Marxism, 111; public works jobs bids, 116; reclamation of land projects, 113, 115; Socialist Party, 111, 115 Coste, Jean Jacques, 152 counterhegemonic practices, 218, 219–20 Covey, Steven, 202 Crainz, Guido, 62, 65, 168–69 Crispi, Francesco, 117 Croce, Benedetto, 140, 142 crumeri (“scabs,” or lit. “worms”), 121, 208–9 D D’Annunzio, Gabriele, 138 D’Attore, Pier Paolo, 51–52, 63, 173–74, 181–82 Davis, John A., 103 decentralized system, xiv, xv, 13, 66, 77, 80, 156 De Gasperi, Alcide, 148–49 Degli’Innocenti, Maurizio, 189 Delbono, Flavio, 80 Deliyannis, Deborah Mauskopf, 84–85 democracy, 3, 91, 153–54, 156, 214, 220 Depretis, Agostino, 117 Development Agency for the South (Cassa per il Mezzogiorno), 80–81 Dewey, John, 153–54 Diamond, Stanley, 6 “directing hand” model, 141, 142, 220 Dovring, Folke, 53 Drucker, Peter, 13 Duggan, Christopher, 210 Dunnage, Jonathan, 138 Dworkin, Mark, 4 E Earle, John, 3, 32–33, 115, 116, 138–40 Ebner, Michael R., 137 ecological sustainability. See sustainable systems

economics: capital accumulation in cooperatives and, 190, 192–93, 195, 196–97, 199, 200–201; cooperative forms and, 9–10, 154–55; equitable distribution of power and, xiii–xiv, 54, 155–56, 217; fiscal policy according to law and, 188–92; free market system, 141, 142, 158; individualism and, xiii, 9, 14–17; political economy, 141–42; self-interest and, 15, 212–13, 216 EEC (European Economic Community), 42, 54, 57, 166, 181, 183 eight-hour day, 125, 127 elites: agrarian reform opposition from, 148; the commons under, 85, 91, 215; on competition, 141; educated, xii, 89, 220; fascism and, xii, 138; globalization and, xii, xiii; political, 62, 63, 80–81, 91, 141; “Red Menace”/“Red terror” concerns by, 148. See also large landowners, private Ellwood, David W., 148, 149–50, 153 emigration: fascism and, 143, 147; from Italy, 63, 78, 99, 108, 115, 169, 179; laborers’ rejection of, 64, 108, 179; public works jobs versus, 51, 97, 115 Emilia-Romagna: about, xxi, 1, 3, 22, 81–82; bottom up agenda in, 155; the Church in, 63, 88, 89; cooperatives in, xv, 3, 4, 9, 80, 209; cooperative spirit in, 4, 38, 75, 205; dialects in, 22, 40, 96, 102, 133, 185; elections in, 61; “Emilian Model,” 3, 4, 76–78, 79–80; employment/ unemployment in, 3; family life/homes in, 45, 74; industrial businesses in, 3–4, 62, 74, 76; local economies in, 45, 46; municipal socialism in, 3; mutual aid organizations in, 107, 108; Post–World War II land tenure, xxiv; Romagnol identity, 22, 60, 108–9; Roman Empire and, 83, 84–85, 88, 133; socioeconomic history of, 91–92; unions in, xv; wages/income in, 75. See also ethnohistorical relationships between land tenure, people, and power; landlord/ boss (padrone); “Red Belt” (cintura rossa); tenant farmers (mezzadri) employee-owned companies (Sub-S Corporations, ESOPs), 191 employment/unemployment: about, xii; agitation/demands and, 119, 120–21; in agribusiness, 120–21, 177, 179; for braccianti, 42, 48, 59, 187–88, 195, 213; on collectives, xvi, xvii, 5, 31, 34, 34,

index 43, 53, 55–56, 112, 162, 179; in EmiliaRomagna, 3; on family farms, 50, 55, 177, 178, 179; in the future of humanity, 43; large landowners and, 121; due to modern technology, 101, 118, 125–26; in province of Ravenna, 41, 42, 53, 58; reclamation of land and, 116, 123; Republicans and, 129; union leagues and, 121; under workermanaged system, 5, 172, 195, 200–201 Engels, Friedrich, 9 England, 9, 18, 19, 109, 141, 142, 216 entrepreneurs: about, 112; affituari or “renters,” 92, 95, 99, 120; Baldini, 123, 135; bourgeoisie as, 92; braccianti as, 74–75, 98–99, 112, 135; capitalism and, 112; cooperatives and, 19; on family farms, 49, 167–68, 181; in industrial businesses, 74; mutual aid organizations and, 108; petit bourgeoisie, 108; “Reds” as, 79; sharecroppers as, 112; tenant farmers as, 75, 89, 128; in worker-managed system, 200 environmentally destructive practices: about, 15–16; in agriculture, 7, 54, 181, 216–17; in the commons, 112; by large landowners, 112–13; in modernity, 13, 214; petrochemical industry and, 48, 51, 181; scale and power theory and, 155–56; in US, 48 equipment. See modern technology Erasmus, Charles J., and topics: capitalism critique, 12, 13, 15, 16, 17, 154, 217; collectives in Ravenna, 14; the commons, 17, 141; “directing hand” model, 141; free riders/“man the play animal,” 11–12, 16, 141, 201; the future of humanity, 13; individualism, 16, 167; self-interest, 212–13; social predictability, 11, 13; utopian/collective social experiments, 7, 10, 12–14, 141, 212 Errani, Giovanni, 181, 209 ethnohistorical relationships between land tenure, people, and power: about, xvi–xvii, 82; barbarian invasions/foreign rulers and, 84, 85; the Church and, 85–86; lives of peasant laborers, 83, 89, 90, 92, 93, 98–100; municipalities and, 86, 87; popes/ papal rule/the Church and, 84–85, 94; social banditry and, 99–100, 102–3. See also feudalism; landlord/boss (padrone); tenant farmers (mezzadri) Europe: agricultural land in, 4, 179; the commons in, 18, 19, 141; consumerism in,

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12; cooperatives in, 19; emigration rate statistics, 99; GDP, 3; modern technology in, 216; rebellion against McDonald’s, 213; welfare state capitalism in, 149–50 European Common Market, 171, 191 European Economic Community (EEC), 42, 54, 57, 166, 181, 183 Evangelisti, Valerio, 114 extensive crops, 120, 150, 161–62 F factories: in England, 142; laborers and, 53, 65, 74; petrochemical industry, 51, 181; resistance and, 65; social incentives for cooperation in, 201, 202; strikes and, 133, 200; in “Third Italy,” 73–74; unions and, 78. See also agribusiness; industrial businesses Fairbairn, Brett, 9 family farms: about, 49–50, 55, 56, 58, 92, 93, 161, 206; agrarian reform and, 45, 48, 57, 149, 151, 153, 166, 167, 169–70, 182; animal husbandry on, 171–72, 181; in appoderata, 161, 165; braccianti collectives as training for, 49; Catholic collectives and, 189; competition and, 3, 42, 54, 206; consumerism versus, 79; contadini, 28, 34, 38, 41, 57, 207; cooperation and, xvii, 171, 174–75, 182, 206–7; EEC’s choice of, 166; employment/unemployment on, 50, 55, 177, 178, 179; entrepreneurship on, 49, 167–68, 181; family life on, 74, 97, 172; under fascism, 136, 145, 147, 149, 151, 153; globalization and, 42; individualism on, 74, 167, 171, 181; intensive crops, 22, 42, 56, 125, 165, 167, 168; in larga, 169–70; large landowners versus, 104; marketing cooperatives and, 171, 174–75, 182; modern technology of, 46, 50, 97, 166, 171, 182; National Federation and, 120; organic products on, 47; patriarchal, 45, 170; patrimony in land, 54; politics and, 74; productive system analysis, 55–56, 171, 200; renting land by, 41, 182; sacrifices on, 145, 181; social incentives for cooperation on, 201; underemployment on, 37–38, 97, 172, 182; wages as cost of production on, 162, 165, 166; wages/income on, 55, 56, 165, 166. See also tenant farmers (mezzadri) Fanfani, Roberto, 179–80, 200 “farmer” (contadino), 28. See also contadini (owner-operators) farmhouses, 41, 41, 43–44, 44, 90–91

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farmworker agricultural cooperatives, xv–xvi, 8–9. See also cooperatives fascism: about, 133, 142; Africa and, 147, 198–99; agrarian reform and, 103, 133; agribusiness and, 138; agricultural economy under, 144–45, 147; amnesty and, 61, 65; bourgeoisie and, 92, 137; capitalism and, 137, 158; the Church and, 71, 138, 139–40; Constitution of 1947 and, 139; cooperatives and, 68–71, 70, 71, 139–40, 146, 147, 148; elections under, 64; elites and, xii, 138; emigration policy under, 143, 147; family farms under, 136, 145, 147, 149, 151, 153; the Federation under, 139–40, 146; General Assemblies during, 198–99; government formation under, 139; large landowners and, 69–70, 137–38, 139; Legacoop on, 139; modern technology under, 147; nationalism under, 133, 136–37, 146; petit bourgeoisie support for, 135, 136, 145; reclamation of land under, 113, 146–47; “Red Menace”/“Red terror” and, 145, 146, 148; “Reds” under, 140; self-sufficiency policy under, 143–46, 147; sharecroppers under, 136, 143; small farms/ farmers under, 136, 145, 147, 149, 151, 153; social justice versus, 68, 143; in the South, 144; squadristi under, 136–37, 138, 139; strikes under, 69–70, 73; syndicalism and, 138; top down agenda under, 142–47, 154; utopian towns under, 14, 114, 115, 153; women and, 70, 71. See also Mussolini, Benito; resistance (partisans) fascist “blackshirt” squads (squadristi), 68, 136–37, 138, 139 Fascist Party, 67, 91, 139, 143–44 “Fast Food,” 218 Federation of Cooperatives (Federcoop, the Federation): about, 122, 205–6; collective renting under, 124, 129; consumer cooperatives and, 135; contracts and, 122; cooperatives in, 30, 122, 128, 135; under fascism, 139–40, 146; fascists’ destruction of, 139–40; as landowner, 129, 130, 131, 134–35; large landowners and, 136; Legacoop offices, 205–6, 207; modern machines and, 127; “New Relationship” and, 200; public works jobs by, 135; technicians in, 95, 174, 193, 206 Federazione Nazionaledei Lavoratori della Terra (National Federation of the Workers of the Land, or “Federterra”), 120, 122

Federbraccianti, 208 Federcoop (Federation of Cooperatives, the Federation). See Federation of Cooperatives (Federcoop, the Federation) Feletti, Maria Grazia, 185 Ferrara, 136, 152, 169–70 Ferri, Enrico, 127 feudalism: about, 85–86; castles of city-states and, 91; serfs and, 84, 88; in the South, 80; tenant farmers and, 99, 127; violence and fragmentation under, 86–88 “First Italy,” 73 Fisher, Julie, 154 Fitch, Robert, 3, 76 Food, Inc. (film), 216 foreign contracts, 117, 131 Forli, 31, 32, 107, 123, 133, 142 Forte, Francesco, 188–89, 196 Forza Italia party, 72, 79–80 France, 19, 179, 213 Francis (pope), xii, 219 Freedom and Work (Libertà e Lavoro), 149 free market system, 141, 142, 158 free riders/“man the play animal,” 10, 11–12, 16–17, 141, 201 Fukuyama, Yoshihiro Francis, 16, 75, 214 Fusignano, 30, 36, 134–35 the future of humanity: agribusiness and, 216–17; anthropological studies and, xii–xiii, xiv, 6, 155–56, 212, 214–15; bottom up agenda and, 153, 156; capitalist link to, 215–16; the commons in, 18; counterhegemonic practices and, 218, 219–20; employment/unemployment in, 43; equitable distribution of power and, 54, 155–56, 217; Erasmus on, 13; Francis (pope) on, xii, 219; individual action and, 212, 218, 220–21; indivisible reserves for, 188, 192–93, 196; legacy of cooperation for, 1, 14, 107, 122, 159, 185, 213; modern technology and, 214, 216, 220; optimistic view of, xii, 220; “Slow Food” movement and, 13, 215, 218–19; social justice in, 149–50 G Gandhi, Mahatma, 217–18 Garibaldi, Anita, 153 Garibaldi, Giuseppe, 153 Gemeinschaft principles, 8, 9, 197 General Assemblies, 186, 190–91, 192–93, 194, 195

index General Association of Day Laborers of the Municipality of Ravenna (Associazione Generale degli Operai Braccianti del Comune di Ravenna, the Association), 111, 112, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 122–23, 135 General Association of Italian Cooperatives (National Associazione Generale delle Cooperative Italiane), 30–31, 33 George, Henry, 17–18 Germany, 19, 68, 99, 179 Ginsborg, Paul, 63, 73, 80 Giolotti, Giovanni, 119–20, 122, 123 Giulio Bellini Braccianti Cooperative, 152 “Gli Scariolanti” song, 96 globalization: competition and, 13, 42, 54; consumerism and, 148; cooperatives and, xvi, 42, 155; elites and, xii, xiii; family farms and, 42; of markets, 73–74, 180, 181, 182 Graeber, David, 6, 156 Gramsci, Antonio, and topics: the Church versus PCI, 62–63; collective ideology, 64; “directing hand” model, 142; fascism, 135, 142; “invisible-hand” (“hidden-hand”) model, 142; Marxism, 111; “passive revolution,” 103, 142, 218, 220; PCI, 61, 62–63 grassroots participation, xvii, 53, 80, 154, 207, 214 Graves, Pamela, 70 “Greens” (Republican). See Republicans (“Greens”) Gruber, Helmut, 70 Gudeman, Stephen, 15 Guzzini, Dario, 95–96, 124 H Harris, Marvin, 73, 155, 165, 217, 220 Hawthorne Effect, 201 Heilbroner, Robert, 14 “Hello/Goodbye My Beautiful/My Love” (“Bella Ciao Bella Ciao”), 69, 70 “hidden-hand” (“invisible-hand”) model, 11–12, 13, 141, 142 the hills (collina), xxii, 21, 22, 34, 36, 58, 61, 63, 64 hiring halls (Ufficio Collocamento di Lavoro, or Labor Allocation Office), 121, 187 Hobbes, Thomas, 214 Hobsbawm, Eric, 102 Honorius (Holy Roman emperor), 84

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Hoover, Kenneth R., 9 Huizinga, Johan, 11 human nature (motivation), 7, 10, 11, 12, 15– 16, 167, 202, 204. See also entrepreneurs; individualism I Il Manifesto (daily newspaper), 219 immigrant workers: agrarian reform and, 169; agribusiness and, 48–49, 180; antiimmigrant sentiment and, 61, 72, 81, 209; exploitation of, 48–49, 80; from the hills, 94; Northern League and, 60–61; reclamation of land by, 81, 97, 113–14; as seasonal workers, 42, 53, 58, 180; social incentives for cooperation and, 203; from the South, 63, 169 income/wages. See union wage; wages/income individual action, for the future of humanity, 212, 218, 220–21 individualism: about, 10, 214; agrarian reform and, 169; braccianti and, 118; common good and, 15, 16–17; cooperatives and, xiii, 104, 105; economics and, xiii, 9, 14–17; on family farms, 74, 167, 171, 181; in industrial businesses, 74; in larga, 100, 174; tenant farmers and, 94, 128. See also competition (economic competition) industrial businesses: in Emilia-Romagna, 3–4, 62, 74, 76; entrepreneurs in, 74; extended families and, 74; globalization and, 73–74; individualism in, 74; in larga, 28, 63–64; in Ravenna, 28, 29, 51; strikes and, 63–64; in “Third Italy,” 73–75, 174; wages/income in, 74. See also agribusiness INEA (Istituto Nazionale di Economia Agraria, Italian National Institute of Agricultural Economics), 166 intensive crops: about, 161–62, 163; agribusiness, 53, 161, 162, 163, 165; in appoderata, 161, 163, 165; cooperatives, 42, 125, 161, 163, 201; family farms, 22, 42, 56, 125, 165, 167, 168; larga, 163, 168; large landowners, 95 intentional social change, xvi, 6, 217, 218–19 Internationalists, 102, 103, 105, 137 “invisible-hand” (“hidden-hand”) model, 11–12, 13, 141, 142 Italian Communist Party (PCI): about, 61, 62, 133, 219; Christian Democratic coalition with, 67, 79; the Church and, 62–63, 67, 73; Constitution of 1947 and, 65–66;

254

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cooperation/cooperative spirit and, 209– 11; cooperatives and, 66, 209–11; elections and, 65, 72; “Emilian Model” and, 76, 79; local chapter of, 40; municipal socialism and, 78–79; PDS and, 79–80; popes/papal rule and, 60; reconstruction and, 65; in “Red Belt,” 65, 66; resistance and, 65, 67, 71; Russia and, 62; secretary of, 25; social associations and, 62–63; socialism and, 66; in the South, 80–81; “White” cooperatives and, 60 Italian Constitution of 1947, xiv, 65–66, 67, 139, 166 Italian National Institute of Agricultural Economics (Istituto Nazionale di Economia Agraria, INEA), 166 Italian Revolutionary Socialist Party, 111 J Jacini, Stefano, 97–98, 99 Jefferson, Thomas, 3 jobs in cooperatives, under worker-managed system, 185–88. See also employment/ unemployment justice. See social justice K Kanter, Rosabeth Moss, 8, 11, 13, 20, 195, 197 Karp, Robert, 215 Kasmir, Sharryn, 14, 15 Kerala, India, 217 Kertzer, David I., 61–62, 66, 67, 73, 78, 136, 210 Klein, Naomi, 216 Kloosterman, Robert C., 75 Kluckhohn, Clyde K. M., 6 knife-wielders (accoltellatori), 102–3, 153 L labor bureaus (camere del lavoro), 118, 121, 122, 126, 128 labor cooperatives: about, 105, 109, 111, 117–18, 135; the Association, 111, 112, 115, 116, 117; Christian Democrats, 31; collettivi, 8, 132–33, 158; consortia, 118; consumer cooperatives link with, 54, 108, 109; contracts and, 112, 118, 122; employment/unemployment and, 112; under fascism, 146; the Federation and, 122; Mondragón system, xiv, 13–14, 15, 16; mutual aid organizations link with, 106, 118; National Federation and, 120; politics

and, 112, 210; Ravenna and, 51–52; reclamation of land and, 123; social justice and, 118. See also braccianti collectives; cooperatives; mutual aid organizations laborers: agribusiness statistics, 166, 177; capital relationship with, 89, 90, 92, 93, 97, 100, 101; class identity, 9, 14, 65, 81, 94, 104, 108; emigration as rejected by, 64, 108, 115, 179; lives of peasant, 83, 89, 90, 92, 93, 98–100; seasonal workers as, 42, 58, 88, 180; Socialist’s influence on, 120. See also braccianti (agricultural laborers); ethnohistorical relationships between land tenure, people, and power; immigrant workers; labor cooperatives; tenant farmers (mezzadri); unions labor-intensive land use. See intensive crops labor rights, 65–66 labor unions. See unions Lanciani, Filippo, 93–94 Land, George, 13 land banks, 181 Landi, Fiorenzo, 184, 197–98, 198–99, 200, 205, 210 landlord/boss (padrone): about, 63, 89; capital and labor relationship with, 89, 90, 92, 93, 97, 100, 101, 126; contracts with, 88, 89– 90, 91, 92–93. See also large landowners, private; tenant farmers (mezzadri) land reclamation. See reclamation of land land tenure. See ethnohistorical relationships between land tenure, people, and power Lang, Beryl, 10 Lappé, Anna, 213 Lappé, Frances Moore, 213–14, 218 larga (bassa pianura, low plain): about, 21, 27, 28, 29, 64, 98; agrarian reform in, 152, 168–70; agribusiness in, 22, 64, 163; anarchists in, 64; braccianti in, 28, 61, 65, 124; cooperatives in, 28, 34, 35, 61, 64, 65, 104, 106, 124, 163; elections in, 64; entrepreneurs (affituari or “renters”) in, 95; extensive crops, 162; family farms in, 169–70; farmhouses in, 41, 41; individualism in, 100, 174; industrial businesses and, 28, 63–64; intensive crops, 163, 168; living conditions in, 100; public works jobs in, 64; reclamation of land in, 95, 98, 117; “Reds” and, 34, 35; rice cultivation, 95; sharecroppers in, 90; solidarity in, 60, 174. See also reclamation of land

index large farm collectives, 135, 146, 147, 152, 169, 174–75 large landowners, private: absentee, 28, 104, 116, 134; agrarian reform and, 148–49; agribusiness and, 136, 158; association for, 121; braccianti relationship with, 109, 113, 125; the Church’s alignment with, 63; collective renting from, 124; cooperatives and, 29, 124, 133; cooperatives as, 131; cultural revival and, 89; employment/ unemployment and, 128; environmentally destructive practices by, 112–13; fascism and, 69–70, 137–38, 139; the Federation and, 136; the Federation as, 129, 130, 131, 134–35; intensive crops, 95; laborers’ struggle with, 104; labor organizations with power versus, 84; land usurpation by, 85–86, 88, 91, 112–13, 134; modern technology and, 104, 135, 167; owneroperators (contadini), 28, 34, 38, 41, 57, 207; productive system analysis, 171; reclamation of land and, 95, 113, 122, 123; “Red” “state within a state” and, 137; reprisals/vendettas against, 65, 157; Republicans as, 129; as risk averse, 97, 194, 204; sale of land to cooperatives, 29, 124, 133; Socialists as, 129, 131; the South and, 80, 103, 134, 142; “strike in reverse” against, 5, 5, 134, 158–59, 160, 203, 208–9; strikes and, 120, 121, 137; tenant farmers and, 126, 131; in unification era, 103; union leagues versus, 29; women’s labor unrest versus, 69–70. See also elites; landlord/boss (padrone) large landowning modern farms (largescale capital-intensive agriculture). See agribusiness Larner, John, 83, 85–87, 88, 191 Lavezzola, 30, 35, 124, 175, 193 laws: accumulation of capital under, 190, 199; Article 44 of Italian Constitution of 1947, 66, 166; Basevi Law, 188; for cooperatives, 188, 191; hours per day, 125, 127, 132; public works jobs and, 119–20, 122, 132; Visocchi Decree in 1919, 134. See also politics League of Cooperatives in Ravenna, 29, 30, 68, 195, 206, 210 leagues, union, 29, 64, 108, 121, 127, 136, 137 Legacoop (National and Regional Leagues of the “Red” Cooperatives, the League), 30, 32–34, 33, 34, 139, 159, 189, 207, 210, 211

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legacy of cooperation, 1, 14, 107, 122, 159, 185, 213 Lega Nord (Northern League), xxiv, 60–61, 72, 80, 209 Levine, Irving R., 60 liberalism, 103, 137, 214, 220 Libertà e Lavoro (Freedom and Work), 149 Linebaugh, Peter, 18 Logue, John, 3, 62, 188, 191 Lombardini, Mario, 170 Lombardini family, 24, 25, 170 Longastrino: Ballardini family from, 26, 39, 45–49, 46, 47, 49, 55, 56, 57, 58, 178; Bersani family in, 182; CAB in, 45; cooperatives in, 30, 35, 45, 58, 124, 203; elections in, 72; family farm in, 58, 178; tenant farmers versus braccianti in, 126 low plain (larga, bassa pianura). See larga (bassa pianura, low plain) Lucci, Luciano, 72 Lu Hsun, 213, 215 Lutz, Mark A., 16 Lyttelton, Adrian, 103 M Machiavelli, Niccolò, 87–88, 89 machinery, farm. See modern technology Madison, James, 18 Mafia, xiv, xv, 19, 71 Magna Carta, 18 “making work.” See employment/ unemployment; underemployment Mandriole Braccianti Agricultural Production Cooperative, 153, 197 “man the play animal”/free riders, 10, 11–12, 16–17, 141, 201 Mantovani, Michela, 188–89, 196 Marcabò estate, 129, 131, 179–80, 184, 185, 200 Marchesi family farm, 167, 168 Marglin, Stephen A., 14–15 marketing cooperatives: about, 181; braccianti collectives, 74–75; Christian Democratic, 31; cooperation and, 206, 207; COOP Italia and, 28, 107, 211; family farm participation in, 171, 174–75, 182; large farm collectives use of, 174–75; Legacoop Romagna, 32; PCI, 76 Marshall Plan, 61, 62, 148, 149–50, 153, 154 Marx, Karl, 64, 93, 105–6, 111, 117, 217 Mascanzoni, Pietro, 135 Massalombarda, 30, 36, 98, 124, 124, 207 Massari, Duke, 116, 117

256

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Massari collective, 30, 134–35 Matteucci, Fabrizio, 211 Mauss, Marcel, 6 Mayo, Elton, 201, 202 Mazzini, Giuseppe, 102–3, 105–6, 108, 118 Mead, Margaret, 212 meals and traditional recipes, 24, 26, 27, 45 medieval era (Middle Ages), 12, 85–88, 102, 104, 127–28, 136 men: circolo and, 39–40; employment/ unemployment and, 51, 122, 123; jobs in agriculture for, 34, 185, 187; politics and, 73; sacrifices and, 125; wages/income for, 8; as wheelbarrowers, 94, 95–96, 96, 113– 14, 114. See also braccianti (agricultural laborers); reclamation of land; women Menzani, Tito, 66, 189, 196, 199, 206, 209–10 merger of cooperatives, 30, 30, 31, 53, 58, 58, 152, 180 Meunier, Rachel, 218 Mexico, 12, 190 mezzadri (tenant farmers). See tenant farmers (mezzadri) Mezzano: about, 29, 42, 69, 98, 107; cooperative in, 30, 35, 52, 58, 58, 123, 124, 135, 185, 197, 199; ethos of cooperation in, 68–69; marketing cooperative in, 207; “New Relationship” in, 199; Settimana Rossa (Red Week) strike in, 132; sharecropping in, 197 Michels, Robert, 64, 91, 108, 144, 146, 154 Middle Ages (medieval era), 12, 85–88, 102, 104, 127–28, 136 Mill, John Stuart, 17 Miller, Timothy, 7 Mishra, Pankaj, 216 modern technology: about, 53, 101, 180, 181; under agrarian reform, 150, 151, 166; agribusiness and, 120–21; braccianti and, 104, 118, 126–27; employment/ unemployment due to, 101, 118, 125–26; on family farms, 46, 50, 97, 171, 182; fascism and, 147; the future of humanity and, 214, 216; large landowners use of, 104, 135, 167; in province of Ravenna, 51, 187, 197, 199; by tenant farmers, 97, 126–27 monarchy/antimonarchy, 64, 74, 105–6, 133 Mondragón system, xiv, 13–14, 15, 16 More, Thomas, 12, 13 motivation (human nature), 7, 10, 11, 12, 15– 16, 167, 202, 204. See also entrepreneurs; individualism

municipalities (comuni), 22, 86, 87 municipal socialism, 3, 78–80, 81, 123–24 Mussolini, Benito (Il Duce or “Chief ”), and topics: cooperatives, 139; emigration policy, 143, 147; fascist “blackshirt” squads, 136–37, 138, 139; government formation, 139; “maximalists,” 127; myths, 142–43, 144; nationalism, 133, 136–37; reclamation of land, 113; self-sufficiency policy, 144; Socialist Party, 133, 138. See also fascism mutual aid organizations: about, 105–6, 107, 107–8, 108, 109; the Church and, 4, 81; consumer cooperatives link with, 106–7; cooperatives link with, xvi–xvii, 4, 81, 106–7, 118; entrepreneurship and, 108; membership statistics, 106, 107, 107; monarchy/antimonarchy, 105–6; Republican, 4, 102–3 N Nadeau, E. G., 153–54 Nash, June, 6 National and Regional Leagues of the “Red” Cooperatives (the League, Legacoop), 30, 32–34, 33, 34, 139, 159, 189, 207, 210, 211 National Associazione Generale delle Cooperative Italiane (General Association of Italian Cooperatives), 30–31, 33 National Federation of the Workers of the Land (Federazione Nazionaledei Lavoratori della Terra, or “Federterra”), 120, 122 nationalism, 105, 133, 136–37, 146 Navarra, Cècilia, 196–97, 200 Nembhard, Jessica Gordon, 19 networks of cooperatives, 3–4, 51, 75, 156, 181 “New Relationship” (Nuovo Rapporto), 199–201 nobles. See elites; large landowners, private nongovernmental voluntary agricultural production cooperatives, xv–xvi, 1 Nordhoff, Charles, 12, 13 Northern League (Lega Nord), xxiv, 60–61, 72, 80, 209 Nozick, Robert, 11–12 Nuovo Rapporto (“New Relationship”), 199–201 O Occhetto, Achille, 79 Olson, Mancur, 10

index oral history, 6, 132, 134, 185, 195 organic products, 47, 54, 58, 174, 180, 219, 220 Ostia, 8, 113–14, 115–16, 117, 122 Ostrom, Elinor, 16–17, 219–20 owner-operators (contadini), 28, 34, 38, 41, 57, 207 P padrone (landlord/boss). See landlord/boss (padrone) Parasecoli, Fabio, 218, 219 Pareto, Vilfredo, 89 participant observation, 5–6, 195, 201 participatory democracy, 3, 91, 153–54, 156 partisans (resistance). See resistance (partisans) Pasi, Santino, 185 Pasolini, Contessa Maria, 89, 95, 100–101, 104–5, 113, 146 “passive revolution,” 103, 142, 143, 218, 220 patriarchy, 45, 90, 96, 108, 170 patrimony in land, 54, 58, 159, 182 Patuelli, Nello, 157, 158 Pavone, Claudio, 67 PCI (Italian Communist Party). See Italian Communist Party (PCI) PDS (Democratic Party), 72, 79–80, 111 Peli, Santo, 67 Pelloni of Bagnacavallo, Stefano, 102 Peniakoff, Vladimir, 68 Pérotin, Virginie, 9–10 petit bourgeoisie, 108, 135, 136, 145 Petrini, Carlo, 218 petrochemical industry, 48, 51, 181 Pezzino, Paolo, 68 Piangipane (Cry Bread), 29, 30, 124, 135, 211 Piastra, Stefano, 146, 152–53 piecework, 95–96, 98, 123, 158, 197–98 Piketty, Thomas, 220 Plato, 12 Pocock, John Greville Agard, 87 politics: adversarial relationships in, 79–80; agitation/demands and, 119; Bologna and, 77, 79; of braccianti, 74, 126, 158, 210; castles of city-states and, 86, 91; coalitions in, 67, 72, 79–80; cooperatives and, 112, 154–55, 210; decentralized system, xiv, xv, 13, 66, 77, 80, 156; democracy and, 3, 91, 153–54, 156, 214, 220; feudal villages and, 86; gender roles and, 73; liberalism and, 103, 137, 214, 220; municipalities and, 22, 86, 87; political elites, 62, 63, 80–81, 91,

257

141–42; popes/papal rule and, 60, 84–85, 94; in Ravenna, 22; in “Red Belt,” 64–65, 71–72, 73, 74. See also laws popes/papal rule, xii, 60, 84–85, 88, 90, 94, 219 Popular Front, 148 popular support for collectives in Ravenna, 208–9 Populist movement, 112 Po River delta. See “Red Belt” (cintura rossa) Porto Fuori, 134–35 poverty: laborers lives, 81, 83, 89, 90, 92, 93, 95, 98–100, 113, 115; in province of Ravenna, 74, 94, 97, 99, 170; in the South, xiv, 60–61, 63, 80, 115, 134; tenant farmers lives, 90, 92, 93 power, xiii–xiv, 54, 155–56, 217. See also ethnohistorical relationships between land tenure, people, and power Pratolungo cooperatives, 134–35 PRC (Communist Refoundation Party), 79 Pretolani, Mario, 55 private ownership of land, xiv, 15, 17–19, 66, 166, 214, 215. See also family farms; landlord/boss (padrone); large landowners, private production cooperatives, xvi. See also braccianti collectives; collectives in Ravenna productive system analysis: agribusiness, 159, 166, 201; benefit of production, 162, 165; braccianti, 59, 159, 175; collectives, 55–56, 159, 162, 163–64, 175, 175, 200–201; cost of production, 162, 165–66; days of employment, 59, 187; expense per hectare, 162, 165; family farms, 55–56, 171, 200; gross sales per hectare, 165; income per hectare, 159; laborer statistics, 55–56, 162; labor hours per hectare, 166, 180, 186, 201; large landowners, 171; profit per hectare, 165; for province of Ravenna, 55–56, 163– 64, 164; social incentives for cooperation, 204–5; wages per hectare, 171, 187, 200. See also underemployment province of Ravenna: in 1970s, xxi, xxii–xxiii, 3, 21–22, 27–29, 65; since 1970s, xvi, 53–58, 58, 59; agricultural economy of, 54, 104, 122, 147; agricultural population in, 28, 51, 151, 162, 164, 177, 179, 206; agriculture methods in, 43, 49, 191, 216–17; anthropologist’s experiences in, 2, 2, 22–27, 39, 57; bottom up agenda in, 154, 156; braccianti in, 58, 59; construction

258

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cooperatives in, 51–52; cooperatives/ cooperative spirit in, xv, 34, 42, 51–52, 123, 124, 135, 173, 185, 211; employment/ unemployment in, 34, 41, 48, 51, 52, 53, 147, 175, 176; extensive land use in, 161; family life/homes in, 42, 45–49, 47, 49, 50, 50; fascism in, 147; immigrant workers in, 42; industrial businesses in, 29; intensive land use in, 163; labor cooperatives in, 8, 29; Legacoop Romagna in, 32; local economies in, 45, 46; merger of cooperatives in, 30, 30, 58, 58, 180; in modernity, 52; modern technology in, 147; mutual aid organizations in, 106; participatory democracy, 156; pine forest in, 21, 91, 112–13; poverty in, 74, 94, 97, 99, 170; productive system analysis in, 55–56, 163–64, 164, 187; Provincial Federation of Cooperatives, 122, 139–40; Provincial League of Cooperatives, 29, 30, 68, 195, 206, 210; reclamation of land in, 19–20; “Red” cooperatives in, 23, 29–30, 31–32, 33, 128, 130, 133, 134, 158; Republican collectives in, 23, 29, 30–31, 33, 39, 111, 128; Roman Empire and, 84–85; social incentives for cooperation in, 201–2; statistics on collectives in, 33, 33–34, 35, 36, 57; sustainable systems in, 3, 54, 58, 152, 156; tenant farmers and farmhouses, 41, 41, 43–44, 44, 90; unions in, 53; “White” collectives in, 23, 29, 31, 33, 39, 60, 75, 188; worker-managed system in, 172–73, 173. See also collectives in Ravenna; Emilia-Romagna; family farms; mutual aid organizations; “Red Belt” (cintura rossa) Provincial Federation of Cooperatives in Ravenna. See Federation of Cooperatives (Federcoop, the Federation) Provincial Union of Agriculturalists (Confagricoltura, [Unione Provinciale degli Agricoltori]), 31, 33 public works jobs: bids on, 116; consortia for, 122; emigration versus, 51, 97, 115; by the Federation, 135; funds for, 117; in Italy, 117, 119–20; in Ravenna, 51, 117, 122; Republican, 129, 134; Socialist, 129, 134. See also reclamation of land Putnam, Robert, 3, 75, 76, 77, 78, 81 R Rand, Ayn, 16

Raspona estate, 134–35 Ravaioli, Antonella, 199–200 Ravenna: about, 22–23, 41, 51; braccianti class in, 52; in Byzantine era, 22, 28, 85; employment/unemployment in, 41, 58, 63, 117, 122, 123; industrial businesses in, 28, 29, 51; labor cooperatives projects in, 51–52; port of, 29, 51, 117, 122, 123, 132, 134; public works jobs in, 51, 117, 122; solidarity in, 40; World War II and, 157 Ravenna Association. See General Association of Day Laborers of the Municipality of Ravenna (Associazione Generale degli Operai Braccianti del Comune di Ravenna, the Association) Ravenna Cooperators’ Circle (Circolo Cooperatori Ravennate), 69 Ravenna Vegetable and Fruit Consortium (Consorzio Ortofruticole Ravennate, COR), 207 reclamation of land: about, 40, 51, 90, 93–94, 100–101; under agrarian reform, 150; by braccianti, 26, 40, 53, 94, 98, 114, 115, 129; by collectives, 4, 19–20, 26, 28; the commons and, 19–20, 113, 152, 153, 185; communalism and, 114–15; consortia for, 122; emigration versus work on, 51, 97; employment/unemployment and, 116, 123; under fascism, 113, 146–47; the Federation and, 122–23; funds for, 95, 113, 117; by immigrants, 81, 97, 113–14; in larga, 95, 98, 117; large farm collectives and, 135, 147; large landowners, 95, 112–13, 122, 123; lives of laborers during, 81, 95, 113, 115; Marcabò estate and, 129, 184, 185; post-World War I era, 134; sacrifices during, 129, 179–80, 184; songs, 96, 113–14; wheelbarrowers and, 95–96, 96, 113–14, 114; women and, 95, 114. See also rice cultivation reconstruction, post–World War II, 62, 65, 71, 122, 137, 158, 199 “Red Belt” (cintura rossa): about, xv, xxi, 1, 60–61, 81; agribusiness in, 63–64; Christian Democratic and, 63, 67, 74, 75, 79; Cold War and, 62; communism and, 60, 158; cooperatives in, 75; ethos of cooperation in, 68–71, 70, 71; monarchy/ antimonarchy politics in, 64, 74; Northern League in, xxiv, 60–61, 72; PCI in, 65; politics in, 64–65, 71–72, 73, 74; religion in, 60, 72–73; Republicans in, 63, 64;

index socialism in, 66; solidarity in, 81; women in, 66, 69–71, 70, 71, 72–73. See also fascism “Red” Construction Cooperative (CMC), 30, 31–32, 211 “Red” Consumer Cooperative (COOP Italia), 28, 107, 211 “Red” Labor Union (CGIL), 29–30, 40, 121, 122, 149, 158, 159, 208 “Red Menace”/“Red terror,” 137, 145, 146, 148 “Reds” (Socialist-Communist): about, 29–30, 30; in appoderata, 34, 36; CGIL, 40, 121, 122, 149, 158, 159, 208; Christian Democratic consensus with, 188–89; circolo for social interactions and, 29–30, 111; construction cooperatives and, 30, 51–52; cooperatives, 23, 29–30, 31–32, 33, 39–40, 75, 77, 108, 128, 130, 133, 134, 158, 158, 159; “Emilian Model” and, 77; as entrepreneurs, 79; under fascism, 140; in the hills (collina), 34, 36; labor bureau, 128; in larga, 34, 35; marketing cooperatives, 28, 107, 207, 211; membership, 33; PDS and, 72, 79–80, 111; political “state within a state” and, 137; in Ravenna, 23, 30, 30, 31–32; “Red Menace”/“Red terror” and, 137, 145, 146, 148; resistance and, 65; socialism and, 66, 80; women and, 34, 71. See also “Red Belt” (cintura rossa) Reece, Erik, xiii religion, 60, 72–73. See also popes/papal rule; Roman Catholic Church (the Church) Renaissance, 89 Renzi, Matteo, 65 reprisals/vendettas, 65, 67, 100, 157 Republicans (“Greens”): about, 29; accoltellatori or knife-wielders, 102–3, 153; agrarian reform and, 103; bourgeoisie and, 106; capital and labor relationship of tenant farmers, 126; Christian Democratic coalition with, 131; circolo for social interactions and, 31, 39, 63, 111; the Consortium, 128, 131, 134, 135, 139; cooperatives and, 23, 75, 106, 128–29, 131, 134, 135; elections won by, 72; employment/unemployment and, 129; family farms and, 74; labor bureau, 118, 126, 128; membership, 33; mutual aid organizations and, 4, 102–3; National Associazione Generale delle Cooperative Italiane membership, 30–31; PDS and,

259

111; in province of Ravenna, 39; public works jobs by, 129, 134; in “Red Belt,” 63, 64; resistance and, 65; Settimana Rossa (Red Week) strike, 131–32; Socialists relationship with, 128, 131–32, 149; tenant farmers as, 120, 126, 127–28; UIL, 30–31, 149, 159; “Yellow” Republican labor bureau, 128 resistance (partisans): about, 64–65, 67–68; anthem of, 69, 70; the Church and, 65, 67; consumerism versus gains from, 158; cooperatives and, 64–65, 66; factories and, 65; myth of, 67–71; PCI and, 65, 67, 71 Restakis, John, 3–4, 9 “Resurgence”/“Rebirth” (Risorgimento), 61–62, 89, 102–3, 105, 108, 153 revitalization movements, xiv–xv Revolutionary Socialist Party of Romagna (Socialist party), 111, 112, 115 rice cultivation: about, 95, 97, 98, 100–101; agitation/demands by laborers, 116–17; braccianti and, 95, 116–17; collective renting for, 124; in larga, 95; strikes and, 117, 120–21; women rice paddy weeders, 69–71, 70, 73, 116–17 Righi, Andrea, 142 right wing, xxiv, 60–61, 72, 80, 149, 209 Rinaldi, Alberto, 75, 76, 79, 81 Risorgimento (“Resurgence”/“Rebirth”), 61–62, 89, 102–3, 105, 108, 153 Rivalta family farm, 167 Rochdale model, 9, 109 Romagnol identity, 22, 60, 108–9. See also Emilia-Romagna Roman Catholic Church (the Church): Catholic collectives and, 29, 31, 108, 138, 148, 149, 189; the commons under, 85, 91, 215; Confagricoltura, 31, 33; Constitution of 1947 and, 67; in Emilia-Romagna, 63, 88, 89; fascism and, 71, 138, 139–40; land usurpation and, 85–86, 88, 91; mutual aid organizations, 4, 81; national identity and, 72–73; PCI and, 62–63, 67, 73; political coalitions and, 67; popes/papal rule and, xii, 60, 84–85, 88, 90, 94, 219; reclamation of land projects and, 94; in “Red Belt,” 60; resistance and, 65, 67; social associations and, 63; strikes and, 123; women and, 72–73. See also Christian Democratic (“Whites”) Roman Empire, 83, 84–85, 88, 89, 133 Russia, 62, 66, 80, 134

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S Sabetti, Filippo, 77–78, 137 sacrifices: agrarian reform and, 169; cooperatives and, 13, 125; on family farm, 145, 181; during reclamation of land, 129, 179–80, 184; by women, 73, 125; under worker-managed system, 195, 196, 197. See also solidarity Salvemini, Gaetano, 115 San Bartolo, 35, 98, 124 San Lorenzo, 35, 58 San Pietro in Vincoli, 163 San Stefano, 35, 98, 124 Sant’Alberto, 35, 52, 58, 98, 129, 179–80, 184, 194, 200 San Zaccaria, 36, 124 “scabs” (crumeri, or lit. “worms”), 121, 208–9 scale and power theory, xiii–xiv, 155–56 scariolanti (wheelbarrowers), 94, 95–96, 96, 113–14, 114 Schiller, Otto M., 177 Sciama, Lidia Dina, 63 seasonal workers, 42, 58, 88, 180 “Second Italy,” 73 security, 83–84, 134, 149–50 self-help cooperatives, 153–54 self-interest, xiii, 10, 14, 15, 212–13, 216 Serantini, Francesco, 43 Sereni, Emilio, 97 serfs, 84, 88 Serpieri, Arrigo, 93, 146 Settimana Rossa (Red Week), 64, 131–32 sharecroppers: about, 90–91; braccianti as, 125, 146, 158; collectives in Ravenna and, 197, 199; as entrepreneurs, 112; farmhouses of, 90–91; under fascism, 136, 143; politics of, 64; syndicalists and, 126; tenant farmers as, 93 Shearer, Eric B., 152, 166, 168 “Slow Food” movement, 13, 215, 218–19 small farms. See family farms Smith, Adam, 141, 153 Snowden, Frank, 93, 103 social associations, 61, 62–63 social banditry, 99–100, 102–3 “social capital,” 75, 76, 77, 80, 81 Social Darwinism, 9 social incentives, for cooperation, 10, 11, 201–5 social interactions, and circolo (“circle” or “club”), 39–40, 63, 98, 111 socialism: agrarian reform and, 108; braccianti and, 115; the idea of, 66; municipal

socialism, 3, 78–80, 81, 123–24; Popular Front’s vision of, 148 Socialist-Communist (“Reds”)-. See “Reds” (Socialist-Communist) Socialist Party: about, 111, 112, 115; circolo, 98; cooperatives and, 115, 122, 126, 128– 29; laborers’ consciousness and, 120; as large landowners, 129, 131; “minimalists” versus “maximalists” in, 108, 127; Mussolini and, 133, 138; public works jobs by, 129, 134; Republican relationship with, 128, 131–32, 149; Settimana Rossa (Red Week) strike, 131–32; on tenant farmers, 123, 126, 127–28; unions and associations resolution, 111. See also “Reds” (SocialistCommunist); socialism social justice: braccianti and, 100; in Europe, 149; fascism versus, 68, 143; the future of humanity and, 154, 156; labor rights and, 65–66; in modernity, xiv; security and, 83–84, 134, 149–50; technicians’ role in, 174; for wages/income, 112, 118, 132–33 social legislation. See laws social life (civil society), 157, 158, 214 social predictability, 11, 13 social sciences, xvi, 9. See also anthropological studies social welfare system, 60–61, 81, 117, 149–50, 192 solidarity: cooperatives and, 173, 184, 185, 187, 192, 196–97, 198, 206; in “Emilian Model,” 76; intra-class warfare and, 105; in larga, 60, 174; in Ravenna, 40; in “Red Belt,” 81; during Settimana Rossa, 132; in unions, 219; of women rice paddy weeders, 70–71. See also sacrifices Southern Italy (the South): Biennio Rosso (“two ‘Red’ years”) strike in, 134; case study, 77–78; characteristics of population in, 77, 78; the commons in, 134; cooperatives/cooperative spirit as lacking in, 80–81, 115; emigration from, 63, 78, 169, 179; employment in, 97; fascism in, 144; feudalism in, 80; lack of cooperation in, 80; large landowners in, 80, 103, 134, 142; Mafia in, xiv; PCI in, 80–81; poverty in, xiv, 60–61, 63, 80, 115, 134; reform law, 150; social associations in, 80–81; social welfare system, 60–61 squadristi (fascist “blackshirt” squads), 68, 136–37, 138, 139 “strike in reverse,” 5, 5, 134, 158–59, 160, 203, 208–9

index strikes: Biennio Rosso (“two ‘Red’ years”), 64, 133, 136; by braccianti, 117, 123; the Church and, 123; factories and, 133, 200; under fascism, 69–70, 73; large landowners and, 117, 120–21, 137; Settimana Rossa (Red Week), 64, 131–32; “strike in reverse,” 5, 5, 134, 158–59, 160, 203, 208–9; tenant farmers and, 123; unions and, 123; women’s role in, 70, 73 Stupazzoni, Giorgio, 169 sustainable systems: about, xiii; agroecological model and, xvi, 3, 54, 207, 215, 217, 218; anthropological studies on, xiii, xiv, 156, 215–16; collectives and, 3, 58, 152, 156; in modernity, xiv, 215; organic products and, 47, 54, 58, 174, 180, 219, 220 syndicalism, 105, 126, 138 T Tampieri, Mario, 66, 68, 69, 174, 193–94, 210 Tasca, Henry, 148 technicians: about, 174; under agrarian reform, 151; braccianti and, 52; on collectives and, 173–74, 176–77; in the Federation, 95, 174, 193, 206; in workermanaged system, 190, 193, 194, 195, 206 Tecumseh (Shawnee chief ), 19 tenant farmers (mezzadri): about, 28, 88; agitation/demands and, 126; in appoderata, 65, 90–91, 93, 97, 101–2, 125–26; braccianti and, 94, 96–97, 100– 101, 125–26, 127–28; capital and labor relationship with, 89, 90, 92, 93, 97, 100, 101, 126; class identity, 93; contracts for, 88, 89–90, 91, 92–93; as entrepreneurs, 75, 89, 128; family life/homes of, 41, 41, 43– 44, 44, 74, 93, 97; family lives of, 90, 92, 93; feudalism and, 99, 127; as individualistic, 94, 128; as large landowners, 126, 131; modern technology by, 97, 126–27, 128, 166; National Federation and, 120; patriarchal, 45, 90, 96, 108; as Republicans, 120, 126, 127–28, 131; security for, 83–84; Settimana Rossa (Red Week) strike, 131–32; Socialists on, 123, 126, 127–28, 131; strikes and, 123. See also family farms; landlord/boss (padrone) “Third Italy,” 73–75, 174, 179 threshing machines. See modern technology Togliatti, Palmiero, 61, 62 Tompkins, Peter, 68 Tönnies, Ferdinand, 8 top down agenda, 12, 141–47, 154

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tourism, 45, 46, 51, 72, 74–75, 180 tractors. See modern technology “Tutti o Nessuno” (“All or None”), vi, xv, 118–19, 123, 213, 221 twelve-hour day, 132 U Ufficio Collocamento di Lavoro (Labor Allocation Office, hiring halls), 121, 187 UIL (“Green” [Republican] Labor Union), 30–31, 149, 159 Umberto I (king of Italy), 113, 115 underemployment: about, 97, 162; agrarian reform and, 172; under capitalism, 159; cooperatives’s solutions for, 5, 51, 159, 162, 163–64, 174–79, 175, 176, 180–81, 205; on family farms, 37–38, 97, 172, 182. See also employment/unemployment UNESCO World Heritage Site, 152 Unification of Italy in 1861–1871, 94–95, 103, 108 unions: about, 111, 121; capitalism, 6; CGIL, 29–30, 40, 149, 158, 159, 208; CISL, 31, 158, 159; collectives and, 4, 14, 53, 158, 159, 208; cooperation with, 207–8; days of employment statistics, 187; eighthour day, 125; in Emilia-Romagna, xv; Federbraccianti, 208; hiring halls, 121, 187; membership, 159; “New Relationship” opposition by, 199; piecework and, 96; solidarity in, 219; “strike in reverse” and, 203; strikes and, 123; tenant farmers contracts and, 92; UIL, 30–31, 149, 158, 159; union leagues, 29, 64, 108, 121, 127, 136, 137 union wage: for agricultural work, 179; on cooperatives, 48, 53, 55, 56, 180; family farms and, 165, 170; under workermanaged system, 190, 192, 194, 199, 200, 205, 208. See also unions United States: agribusiness in, 38, 105, 162–63, 209, 211, 216; agriculture methods in, 54, 216–17; agro-ecological model in, 219; bottom up agenda in, 155–56; CIA, 25, 62, 68, 158; Cold War and, 62, 68; communalism in, 218; Constitution of, xiv, 18; consumerism in, 150; cooperatives/ cooperative forms and, xvi, 19, 153–54, 206; cooperative spirit as lacking in, 186, 206; decentralized system in, xiv; “Emilian Model” in, 3; employee-owned companies in, 191; environmentally destructive practices in, 48; intensive crops in, 162–63;

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intra-class warfare in, 105; laborers in, 162–63; land bank in, 181; Marshall Plan, 61, 62, 148, 149–50, 153, 154; modern technology in, 216; organic products in, 219; Populist movement in, 112; “Red Menace”/“Red terror” concerns in, 148; social associations in, 63; social incentives for cooperation in, 203; unions in, 163 utopias: Cabet on, 12, 114; communalism and, 14, 114, 115; cooperatives and, xv, 19, 20, 221; Erasmus on social experiments and, 7, 9, 10, 12–14, 141, 155, 212; Mondragón and, 13–14; More and, 12, 13; Plato on, 12; towns as, 14, 113, 114, 115, 153 V Vanek, Jaroslav, 190 Vanek, Wilda M., 81 vendettas/reprisals, 65, 67, 100, 157 Ventresca, Robert, 148 vertical organization, 54, 174, 193, 202, 206, 207 Victor Emanuel III (king of Italy), 115, 135, 139 Vietnam War, 215 Visocchi Decree in 1919, 134 Vöchting, Friedrich, and topics: the Association, 116; biography of, 91; braccianti as sharecroppers, 146; capitalism, 137; collective renting, 118–19; contracts, 92; cooperatives, 64, 125, 129, 137; eight-hour day, 125; Emilia-Romagna history, 91–92; employment in the South, 97; family farms, 92, 93; fascism, 92, 137, 146–47; immigrant workers, 97; large farm collectives, 135; National Federation, 120; poverty, 99; reclamation of land, 92, 97, 146–47; sacrifice by women, 125; scabs associations, 121; strikes, 120–21, 137; tenant farmers, 92, 93, 97, 128; unions, 125 Voltana: agitation/demands in, 126; cooperatives in, 30, 35, 58, 58, 124; dialect in, 40; elections in, 64–65; large landowners in, 137–38; merger of cooperatives and, 30, 58, 58; party partisans in, 66; tenant farmers in, 126, 131 W wages/income: in agribusiness, 165–66; braccianti, 38, 49, 51, 75, 129, 131; cooperation and, xvii, 183; cooperatives, 8, 56, 125; in cost of production, 162, 165–66; family farms, 55, 56, 165, 166;

gender roles and, 8; industrial businesses, 74; Legacoop Romagna, 32; social justice for, 15–16, 112, 118, 132–33; wages per hectare, 171, 187, 200. See also union wage Walras, Léon, 19 Warner, W. Lloyd, 201 Warren, Josiah, 14 Wells, H.G., 17 wheelbarrowers (scariolanti), 94, 95–96, 96, 113–14, 114 White, Leslie, 214 “Whites” (Christian Democratic). See Christian Democratic (“Whites”) Whyte, Kathleen King, 13–14 Whyte, William Foote, 13–14 Williams, Bob, 3 Willson, Perry, 136 Wilson, David, 206 women: agitation/demands of laborers, 116–17; as braccianti, 29, 37, 49, 70, 71, 98; the Church and, 72–73; circolo and, 40; in collectives, 5, 34, 37, 48, 53, 56, 69, 95, 177, 178, 185, 186, 187, 202–3; Constitution of 1947 and, 66; consumer cooperatives and, 38; employment in cooperatives for, 185, 186, 187; ethos of cooperation and, 69–71, 70, 71; fascism and, 70, 71; labor rights for, 66; as owner-operators, 34; reclamation of land by, 95, 113, 114; reconstruction and, 71; in “Red Belt,” 71, 71; “Reds” and, 34, 71; as rice paddy weeders, 69–71, 70, 73, 116–17; sacrifices by, 73, 125; social incentives for cooperation and, 202–3, 205; in strikes, 70, 73; tenant farm work for, 34, 177; underemployment for, 177; wages/income for, 8; during World War I, 132–33. See also men worker-managed system: about, xvii, 1–2, 15, 172–73, 173, 195; capital accumulation under, 188, 190, 192–93, 195, 196–97, 199, 200–201; capitalism versus, 13; cooperation under, 205–10; decisions necessary under, 192–99; employment in cooperatives under, 185–88; employment/unemployment under, 5, 172, 195, 200–201; entrepreneurs and, 200; fiscal policy according to law and, 188–92; Gemeinschaft principles in, 8, 9, 197; General Assemblies and, 186, 190–91, 192–93, 194, 195; indivisible reserves under, 188, 192–93, 196; modern technology and, 187, 197, 199; “New

index Relationship” and, 199–201; piecework under, 197–98; risks under, 192, 193–94, 199, 204, 207; sacrifices under, 195, 196, 197; sharecropping under, 197; social incentives for cooperation under, 201–5; solidarity under, 196–97, 198; technicians and, 190, 193, 194, 195; union wage under, 190, 192, 194, 199, 200, 205, 208; vertical organization and, 54, 174, 193, 202, 206, 207. See also collectives in Ravenna; labor cooperatives workers. See braccianti (agricultural laborers); immigrant workers; labor cooperatives; tenant farmers (mezzadri); unions

World War I, 132–33, 134, 136, 198 Y Yeats, W. B., 220 “Yellow” Republican labor bureau, 128. See also Republicans (“Greens”) Young, Melissa, 4 Z Zamagni, Stefano, 3–4, 34, 34 Zamagni, Vera, 3–4, 34, 34, 74, 81, 106 Zappi, Elda Gentili, 70 Zinn, Howard, 153

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