This article focuses on two points of disorder and social-political tension in the histories of Milan and Turin: 1898 and 1917. It examines the reasons for different shapes of protest during the ‘ Fatti di Maggio ‘ in 1898 and the events in the summer of 1917. Both cities are the hubs of Italian industrialization and modernization but in 1898, 1917 and later in 1919-20, ‘pre-modern’ protests about the price of bread were melded together with modern political mobilization. This article also examines the growth of working-class suburbs in each city and their relationship to the ‘historic city centres’ on the one hand and the rural hinterland on the other. The uniqueness of protest in each city is related to the political economy and politics of Milan and Turin and the specific relationships between city centre, suburbs and hinterlands in each. The importance of municipal history for the national historical narrative of modern Italy is thus emphasized in this article.

Sidney Tarrow has identified a ‘cycle of contention’ taking place in Italy between 1966 and 1972; Tarrow characterises the left-wing terrorism of the late 1970s as an after-effect of this cycle. However, there was a second cycle of contention between 1972 and 1979, incorporating the left-wing ‘armed struggle’ milieu alongside a group of related mass movements (notably the ‘area of Autonomia’, the ‘movement of 1977’ and the ‘proletarian youth movement’). The second cycle, unlike the first, was met with repression, and with the exclusion of its ideological and tactical innovations from the political mainstream. The difference between the two cycles relates to the role played by the Italian Communist Party, which functioned as a ‘gatekeeper’ in each case; the party's engagement with the first cycle can be characterised as inclusive, while its engagement with the second cycle was unremittingly exclusive.

The 1930s saw an explosion in the publication of crime writing in Italy, but initially readers’ appetite for crime fiction was fed almost entirely by translated imports from the US, Britain and France. Even as publishers began promoting crime writing by Italians, foreign models and settings remained important, and several early Italian writers set their work in foreign countries. This article, which draws on both textual analysis and archival research, examines some foreign-set novels produced by Italian authors during the Fascist years, and seeks to identify the function and appeal of foreign settings in the depiction of criminality in that period. These books, peopled by exotic ‘Others’, comment on corruption, freedom of the press, cultural diversity, racial difference, policing, criminality, as much at home as abroad. The distant settings offered safety and freedom, as well as escapism or distraction, and the opportunity to experiment with genre.

The article examines certain of the more recent perspectives on twentieth- century dictatorship, looking in particular at the complex relationship between the dictator and the people. Extending its range beyond that of the ‘classic’ totalitarianisms, the paper argues for a more nuanced approach to the question of popular support for or resistance to regimes and suggests that many of the old binaries concerning popular attitudes need to be revised, with a consequent readjustment of the roles often attributed to violence, to ideology and other cultural factors, and to the varied seductive attractions of mass mobilisation. While pointing to the difficulties of reaching any very definite conclusions in an area characterised by ambivalence and ambiguity, the paper attempts to suggest certain variables related to popular behaviour that may have determined the degree to which regimes were able to impose domination.

The first British cultural institute on foreign soil was founded in Florence in 1917. However, it was the creation of the British Council in London in 1935 that marked the beginning of the strengthening of the British cultural presence abroad. The aim of this drive was to promote knowledge of British culture and civic and political life overseas, to defend national prestige and, given the escalating expansionist policies of Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy, to encourage the preservation of dialogue between the major European powers, underpinned by democratic principles. Bridging a gap in research into the relationship between Italy and Great Britain in the interwar period, this article reconstructs the case study of British cultural diplomacy in Florence between 1922 and Mussolini’s declaration of war, analysing how British culture was used in politics and propaganda and investigating the relationship of the management of both the British Institute of Florence and the British Council with Fascism. In doing so, it offers original insight into British history and the country’s cultural institutions in Fascist Italy, and into the wider field of Anglo-Italian political and cultural relations during the period of dictatorship in Italy.

This article studies post-war Italy’s forgetful attitude towards its Fascist past by interpreting a political measure, the Togliatti amnesty (1946), and 1950s film censorship as ‘institutionalised forms of (…) amnesia’ (Ricoeur 2004, 452). The amnesty, which erased the Fascists’ legal responsibility for war and political crimes, represented the first act of oblivion of the Republican political establishment, embodying a forgetful mindset that influenced Italian culture through institutional instruments like film censorship. In 1950s Italy, censorship acted as a further form of institutionalised amnesia aimed at erasing from films the traces of the compromising continuity between the Fascist past and the democratic present. The story of the making and unmaking of the Italian episode of I vinti by Michelangelo Antonioni is a meaningful example of this dynamic. Producers and government commissioners censored the plot and changed it from a story about a neo-fascist militant to one about a young bourgeois who smuggles cigarettes. However, Antonioni resisted the institutional imposition to forget by choosing locations where the material dimension of the landscape still embodied the Fascist legacy of the country.

The author contends that Leonardo Sciascia's L'affaire Moro is not a work of non-fiction, as Sciascia proposed, but of historical fiction, and that Sciascia's Moro is a literary character, more a spokesperson for Sciascia's political views than a reflection of the historical figure. Sciascia's Moro embodies the same qualities as many of Sciascia's other protagonists, such as a radical individualism and willingness to sacrifice all in order to protect their dignity and liberty. What emanates from the text is a ‘postmodern’ blend that interprets and imposes a narrative hierarchy on events, and conveys a mental reality that need not necessarily coincide with what can be proven with evidence. In fact, Sciascia combines factual information and his own ‘conjectural knowledge’ to convince his reader of the ‘moral truth’ of his argument. Sciascia's is indeed a strong narrative in that it succeeded in shaping how the Italian public views to this day a critical juncture in its recent history.

Characterised as the country of gestural expressiveness and animated verbal exchanges, of Latin lovers and of operatic excess, Italy has long been seen as a domain of emotional intensity. However, this association between Italy and the emotions has tended to remain a matter for popular imagination and stereotypical representations, and it is only recently that the question of emotions has started to become a focus for scholarly investigation. This special issue has its origins in the Association for the Study of Modern Italy's 2009 annual conference, Italy and the Emotions: Perspectives from the Eighteenth Century to the Present, organised by the editors. The conference offered the first opportunity to bring together scholars of Italy working in a wide range of disciplines in order to hear from the pioneers of such research and to exchange ideas on the new insights and new lines of research being opened up by a focus on emotions. There is considerable interest in this emerging field of study in Italy, as the response to the conference demonstrated, but other than the widely known work of scholars such as Alberto Mario Banti, Luisa Passerini and Alessandro Portelli (discussed briefly below), little else has been published so far. With this issue we hope both to showcase some of the work that is being done, and to provide an impetus for further research.

The Reinterpretation of Italian Economic History: From Unification to the Great War is the first major study of the liberal Italian economy to appear in English for more than 20 years. It is also the first based on new statistical reconstructions of industrial and aggregate development for the period. Above all, the book represents the culmination of over four decades of ‘painstaking, meticulous, sophisticated and innovative research by one of Italy's finest economic historians' (Toniolo 2007, 130).

This article adopts an interdisciplinary approach to analyse the symbolic religious language utilised by mafia boss Bernardo Provenzano in his social interactions with the lower echelons of the Sicilian mafia. When Provenzano assumed control of Cosa Nostra in the 1990s, he inherited an organisation severely diminished by a decade of internal conflicts, violence and the arrest of numerous leaders. The article argues that religious performative behaviour and language were used by the mafia boss to establish his leadership over Cosa Nostra, reshape its internal structure, and thereby revitalise an organisation in apparent terminal decline.

The question of economic integration is not new in Europe. Historically, the birth and construction of nation-states was important in stimulating interest in the systematic relationships between political and economic integration. In the case of the multinational structure of the Habsburg monarchy in the nineteenth century, the result was an economic policy that, for political reasons, aimed to unite the material interests of a state that was completely heterogeneous in other respects. Lombardy was a case in point. Traditionally the region had been in the economic vanguard in central Europe. When it again became part of Austria in 1815 it also became subject to the imperial policy of political integration. As a result its economic priorities were partially reformulated. On the one hand, Austria had a protectionist system aimed at autarky which made incentives to industrial production a priority. Lombardy's purely mercantilist outlook, on the other hand, was based around the production of a few highly specialized goods, most notably silk, for export. Conflict between economic interests in Lombardy was the inevitable result. Nevertheless, the imperial government had to take account of the fact that it was impossible to restrict Lombardy's international trade relations exclusively to the Austrian market. And the problems that beset any effort to tie the Lombard economy into a denser network of relationships with the Austrian market were not due to the political formation of the Italian nation because Northern Italy, and Lombardy in particular, continued to occupy an anomalous position within the context of the Italian economy.

This essay explores attitudes towards home-grown anti-black racism in Italy from the 1960s to the early1980s by focusing on the reception of Giovanni Vento’s Il Nero, a 1965 film that depicts the everyday lives of two biracial Italians born at the end of the Second World War from encounters between Italian women and non-white Allied soldiers, and of Antonio Campobasso’s Nero di Puglia, a partly autobiographical book by one of these biracial Italians, published in 1980. Campobasso’s powerful text, which denounced the hypocrisies of the Republic, received some acknowledgement in the intellectual community, but the lenses that the cultural critics used to interpret the text impeded a foregrounding of the racism that the book denounced. Giovanni Vento’s innovative film, on the other hand, did not even reach the commercial circuit and was also interpreted in leftist circles through a political and aesthetic paradigm that downplayed the specificity of anti-black racism. The article invites a reflection on the legacy that these attitudes have had in shaping the limited sensitivity to racism in contemporary Italy.

This article reviews one of the many leitmotifs that have linked Alcide De Gasperi to Trentino. It will focus attention on De Gasperi's experience as the Catholic representative of a national minority within the Austro-Hungarian Empire. In that period, he was challenged on a daily basis by the difficulties of the relationship between the minority and the majority and the nation-state, and the importance of enforcing the laws that could guarantee the very existence of minorities. The same themes also recurred after the annexation of the Trentino region to the Kingdom of Italy, when De Gasperi continued to defend local institutions and associations against the centralist homogenisation imposed by the Rome government. In the phase of Liberation and the birth of the Republic, De Gasperi took on a leading political position, at both the Italian and European levels. In managing the border with Austria and resolving the Trentino Alto Adige/South Tyrol question, there are echoes of a Hapsburg approach to the region–State relationship, where minorities could coexist within the same State framework provided they subscribed to a pact of collaboration and trust under the constitution.