Does the Italian government have a problem with social centres?

As the government cracks down on occupied spaces, Italy’s ‘social centres’ remain caught between public service, political activism, and accusations of disorder.

Pubblicato il 24 luglio 2026 | Diritto e Diritti

Di Sorobetea Adelina Florina, Bonato Niccolò, Albini Martina e Melis Valentina

Social centres - community-run spaces which host cultural, political and social activities - are once again at the heart of Italian political debate. To supporters, they are spaces of solidarity, culture and grassroots participation. To critics, including much of Italy’s current political class, they are symbols of disorder and lawlessness. This tension has pushed social centres back into headlines, especially under the right-wing government of Prime Minister Meloni, who has repeatedly framed occupations and protest movements as threats to public order. Evictions, on the one hand, and increasingly hostile rhetoric, on the other, have turned these spaces into a political battleground. Behind the conflict, however, lies a clash between opposing visions of society. Many of these social centres promote left-leaning, progressive ideas pertaining to pro-migrant, anti-capitalist causes, reflecting a deeper struggle over who, actually, has the right to shape the public space in contemporary Italy.  

 
But what exactly are social centres? 

Born from grassroots movements, social centres are typically community-run spaces, organized collectively rather than through formal hierarchies. Their members, from artists and activists to students and migrants, all come together around social causes or to express dissatisfaction with mainstream institutions and the governing political agenda. In many cases, this results in a lack of institutional support, which is however not always unwelcome. Social centres have, indeed, historically positioned themselves as alternatives to traditional politics and as symbols of counterculture.  

Further complicating this distance, many of them occupy abandoned buildings, such as old factories or warehouses. There, political activism coexists with everyday community life. A week’s programme might include live music, language classes or food distribution towards struggling families, such as those organised during the COVID-19 pandemic. This is what they do: they fill gaps often ignored by the state, having become in time focal areas for marginalized communities and the active youth.  

 
How did they actually come to be? 

Social centres trace their origins back to the turbulent Italian political and social upheavals of the 1970s, a period marked by student protests, labour struggles and a widespread distrust of authority. Many at the time felt alienated from traditional parties and unions, which led them to create autonomous spaces for organisation and debate. Social centres became hubs for cultural and social experimentation, giving way to what is known as prefigurative politics, namely the attempt to build, in the present, the type of future that they imagine for themselves. Beyond politics, social centres also played a major cultural role. Italy’s hip-hop and punk scenes, in particular, found a launching pad for success within these places during the 1980s and 1990s.  

Yet, social centres have always existed in tension with the state. Critics on the right accuse them of being hostile, while supporters argue that social centres are being scapegoated because they represent organised opposition to the government’s political agenda. They add that democracy requires spaces for protest and resistance. And yet, as activist Beatrice Tabacco told us, the political élite does not seem to shy away from saying “we do not care about your bottom-up self-management, nor do we care about culture, or opposition, or proposals or meeting places”.   

When compromise fails and protests stand strong the conflict usually ends, instead, in the government’s preferred solution: oppositional rhetoric, decrees and, most of all, eviction.  

 
The long history of Milan’s social centre Leoncavallo 

The first social centre evicted under Meloni’s government was Leoncavallo. Founded in Milan more than 50 years ago, it was shut down in August of last year during an operation supervised by the Interior Minister Matteo Piantedosi. Following the eviction, approximately 20 000 people marched to protest against it. 

Leoncavallo, named after the street where it was instituted, is the result of the occupation of a disused pharmaceutical factory owned by the Cabassi family, which had repeatedly called on the government to evict it. 

The building was initially occupied by groups from the extra-parliamentary left, antifascist collectives and neighbourhood committees. The first initiatives within Leoncavallo included a theatre, a radio station and a space for the feminist collective Casa delle Donne to organize their activities. Evening classes were also held to allow factory workers to obtain a middle school diploma. 
Alongside these, the centre was a key venue for cultural events and concerts. Its stage welcomed many artists such as Sonic Youth, Afterhours and Litfiba. 

The history of this centre is complex. Leoncavallo became known throughout Italy after two young people who frequented it were killed by neo-fascist activists, during the so-called Anni di piombo (“Years of Lead), a period of violent clashes between far-right and far-left extremists. Following this event, a group of women, including the mothers of the two victims, founded the association Mamme antifasciste del Leoncavallo (“Antifascist mothers of Leoncavallo”) to combat political violence and to defend the rights of the most vulnerable. 

The centre was repeatedly threatened with eviction. The first attempt dates back to 1989, but it did not succeed, resulting in around 50 injured and 20 arrests. A second eviction followed in 1994, after which Leoncavallo relocated to via Watteau, where it remained until last year’s closure. 

People protesting in Turin against Askatasuna eviction

Askatasuna, an eviction that sparked clashes in Turin 

The second social centre targeted by Meloni’s government was Askatasuna, in Turin. Founded in 1996 through the occupation of a municipally owned building, it soon developed a close relationship with the surrounding neighbourhood, becoming involved in issues related to work conditions and housing rights. 

Over the years it opened a gym, a library and an after-school program among various artistic activities. It also played a significant role in political activism and grassroots campaigns, including those in support of the Kurdish and Palestinian peoples. 

Given the importance recognised to Askatasuna in the political and cultural life of the city, in January 2024 Mayor Stefano Lo Russo announced the intention to begin regularising the occupied building. 
However, in December 2025, it was evicted. The operation followed investigations into a series of riots and acts of vandalism, for which several people linked to the social centre were reported. During these inquiries, police found six people sleeping on the third floor of the building, which constituted, according to the mayor of Turin, a “failure to comply with the conditions set”. 

Following the eviction, Askatasuna organised a protest, during which clashes between demonstrators and police left around 100 injured, including about ten police officers. However, a majority of 15,000 were participating in the march peacefully. 

Further clashes also broke out during the Workers' Day march between police forces and some of the protesters, in front of the former social centre. 
 

Entrance to Spin Time Labs

Rome’s Most Symbolic Occupation Under Threat 

Located in the Esquilino district in Rome, Spin Time Labs is not your typical social centre. It’s a seven-story occupied building that is home to at least 400 people from a wide range of national backgrounds. According to activist Beatrice Tabacco, “There are other social centres that also host some residents - but housing is never the defining feature. At Spin Time, occupation will always come first”.  

To understand Spin Time Labs, one must go back to 2003. Until then, the building served as an office for Italy’s former public‑sector pension and welfare agency. That year, the offices were dismantled and the ownership of the property was transferred to a government-backed real-estate fund created to manage public assets. The fund, however, is run by a private asset-management company, Investire Sgr. The building was left abandoned until 2013, when it was occupied as part of a wider housing-rights movement, known as the Tsunami Tour. 

Because several floors were unfit for habitation, they were gradually turned into spaces for social and cultural activities. This space has since grown into a widely recognized community hub, run through democratic self-management and home to 24 grassroots associations.  

 

A 2022 study by researchers at the University of Milan-Bicocca highlighted its positive impact on the neighbourhood, from lower school-dropout rates to a strong sense of belonging among residents. Yet Spin Time now faces mounting political and legal pressure: the city has repeatedly tried to buy the building, but the private fund rejected all offers. In the meantime, national authorities have intensified calls for its eviction. 

For Tabacco, the warning came after months of escalating pressure on social centres across Italy. “By the time the threat reached Spin Time,” she said, “it was clear they were targeting symbols”. According to her, what is most striking is the gap between reality and the government’s narrative, which frames social centres as a hub of violence and subversive activity.  
She stresses that each centre is different - some rooted in cultural work, others more antagonistic, and some, like Spin Time, focused on housing - yet all serve as important spaces for grassroots political initiatives that the government chooses to dismiss as a form of violence.  

“The way the government talks about us is unsettling” - she added. “At Spin Time, we have always made an effort to reach everyone, from the radical left to Catholic groups. And we have succeeded: we hosted events during the 2025 Jubilee and Pope Francis cared deeply about this place. We work with parties, politicians and NGOs, and there is extensive evidence of Spin Time’s positive impact on the neighbourhood. How can all of this be dismissed as violence?”.  

When the government threatened to evict Spin Time, it was just around Christmas time of 2025. The activists were scared. As much as they knew they could count on their community, how could they ask people to show up when they were at home celebrating with their families? 

Yet, against all odds, they were able - through both social media and word of mouth - to build a wave of solidarity that then turned into a huge mobilization against the dismantling of the social centre. On January 10 - on an absolutely freezing day - more than 3,000 people gathered outside Spin Time. “The fact that all those people stayed there”, Tabacco concluded, “in the cold, for four hours, just to say ‘Spin Time must not fall’…How can all of this be reduced to the word ‘violence’?”. 

 
The government’s narrative and measures 

It is clear that a feeling of alienation comes from the government’s narrative and measures, embodied by Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni and the members of her coalition. Indeed, they portray these organisations as enemies of the state and outright symbols of illegality and unsafety. 

Both during the election campaign and from the beginning of its term, the right-wing majority has made security one of its main political priorities. A clear example of this approach was the very first decree approved by the Meloni government: the so-called Rave Party Decree, which introduced heavy penalties for unauthorised gatherings. It was a strong signal of future institutional attitudes towards security policies.  

On paper, none of the decrees and laws approved by the government target social centres explicitly. They are framed as general measures against illegal occupation of buildings. However, social centres are directly and concretely impacted, given that many occupy buildings without legal title. Two measures, above all, embody this approach. 

The most significant one is the Security decree of 2025. This law introduced new articles in the Italian Criminal Code which are significantly harsher than the previous regulations. It also introduced faster procedures for the restitution of occupied buildings and strengthened police powers during evictions.  

Beyond legislation, the government has also adopted a more aggressive administrative approach towards social centres. In 2023, the Interior Ministry created a map of 126 occupied social centres across Italy identified as a priority for possible eviction operations. Interior Minister Matteo Piantedosi defended a “zero tolerance” approach towards illegal occupations, arguing that the state had to reassert legality and public authority. 

This approach was reinforced by the communication. The government has widely defended these decrees and measures, often mentioning social centres as targets both when these initiatives were presented and when specific events occurred. The narrative is straightforward: on the one hand lay the law-abiding citizens defended by the state and, on the other, those who occupy buildings illegally and threaten public order. Here are some examples: 

Tweet posted on X by Minister of Infrastructure and Transport and Deputy Prime Minister Matteo Salvini.
Tweet posted on X by majority party "Brothers of Italy"