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Florence, a
cosmopolitan city where the world’s greatest art and architecture attest to a blending
of cultures, has for ten years been debating the fate of some 200 Roma families—approximately
1,000 people—living within its boundaries. Like other major Italian cities where
Roma have spontaneously settled, Tuscany’s capital has opted for the solution of
“nomad campgrounds”: in essence, reserves where newcomers are herded together.
Most of the Roma in Florence are from Macedonia and Kosovo. They came during the
past fifteen years, driven from their homes by the economic crisis and wars that
have racked the region, where they had almost completely given up their wandering
ways and settled down in certain neighbourhoods of large cities.
At first, the Roma of Florence and the surrounding area constantly moved around in
small family groups, driven from one place to the next by protesting neighbours or
by real estate projects launched in new, expanding suburbs. In the early 90s, the
municipality decided to concentrate them in two “nomad campgrounds”. One is on the
site of a former rubbish dump located in a flood-prone area near the river Arno.
The other is a strip of land wedged between the railroad tracks and the highway.
These unusable spaces were of interest to no one. In Florence and elsewhere, the
areas chosen for “nomad campgrounds” revealed a widespread attitude: Gypsies must
be kept apart from the general population, and the general population would do best
to keep their distance from them.
The city’s government considered these campgrounds a temporary solution. In fact,
they were the first in a series of other “temporary solutions” and have never been
called into question. All the classic earmarks of ghetto pathology have appeared
there; the risk of fire is especially high. On several occasions, children have died
in blazes when their parents were unable to rescue them. Sanitary facilities are
collective. Each is used by several families, with obvious consequences on health,
maintenance costs and relations between families.
The deterioration of facilities, living conditions and social relations was inevitable.
Scourges such as drug abuse, partly due to contact with disadvantaged members of
the local community, have led to increased control by the authorities. The campgrounds
are closed spaces; their entrances are under surveillance; the comings and goings
of Roma and non-Roma alike are recorded. All the features making up a ghetto are
in place.
In the past few years, Roma organizations and volunteers supported by a few rare
but well-known intellectuals, such as the writer Antonio Tabucchi, have pressured
the municipality into finding alternative solutions. Under a regional law based on
a Michelucci Foundation project, the authorities have built a small sub-division
of six housing units assigned to Roma from Macedonia. The project was so successful
that some 30 other families have been re-accommodated in city-owned units. These
experiments show that, when they are taken out of the degrading living conditions
and exclusion in which they had been living for years, Roma families seize the opportunity
to integrate themselves socially and economically.
However, the building of the sub-division met with fierce criticism in Florence,
exploited by right-wing parties, which dissuaded the municipality from undertaking
similar projects. Not enough families have been relocated to permanently close the
“nomad campgrounds”, where Roma refugees fleeing the war in Kosovo have arrived in
the meantime.
Florence continues presenting the face of a city of art and culture to the world,
while at the same time it is incapable of striking a dialogue with a small minority
from a different background.
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