Cristiano Bartolini
I began my MSc research thesis in June 2021, at the end of the second pandemic wave, which forced the world (back) inside, into our homes. I was frustrated and upset that I would probably not be able to conduct research beyond Europe’s borders – or outside my own room, even. At the start of my master’s, I was looking forward to the thesis, quite naively romanticising, in fact, picturing myself as a young researcher in the middle of rural fields, maybe in Latin America, living near native communities that struggle for social and human rights. After the pandemic hit, I had to surrender this idea and recalibrate my research expectations. I refocused my research aims and decided to start a study on social movements in Florence, my hometown.
I had never really thought of researching in a city: during my studies, I had unconsciously neglected its potential to enact a real change in society. The urban context, to me, was a negative environment from which good changes could not emerge. As various authors argue, the city is the centre of capitalistic life, it is the producer of huge economic surpluses, always looking for new outlets to absorb this endless profit that it constantly generates, and this, eventually, brings a lot of socio-economic problems to residents. Let me explain this with an example that ultimately becomes the background of my research.
Florence and its constraints: the city as research field
These two processes imply a city government that is more focused on welcoming investments than working for residents’ needs. Thereby, the city is bent to the will of capital, turning wealthy incomers and tourists into the main customers of the city and setting aside the (native) citizens’ socio-economic needs, which go quite neglected by the city administration. In other words, the preconditions that set the field of my research were those of a city unilaterally built to the demands and for the amusements of the outsider, especially the tourist, a city being shaped by the municipality to private capital and blind to the demands of its present citizens, who suffer the severe socio-economic repercussions of this policy, including a lack of social services, increased prices and high rents. In short, this is why I wasn’t truly convinced about researching in an urban context: I thought that my interest in studying resistant entities – or struggles – would go unsatisfied there.
With this in mind, I nevertheless set myself the challenge of locating some entity in Florence – an association, a neighbourhood collective, a group of people – that stood outside the capitalist logic constantly reproducing the mechanism of touristification. All my whole life, I have known about the city’s social centres. These are illegal squats that promote different kinds of activities – political, cultural, ludic, sports, and more – organised with and for the residents. Concerts, political panels, flea markets and boxing courses are just some of the many activities they engage in every day. The activists (or militants) of social centres promote activities whose non-capitalistic organisation and implementation mean not only that profit is not a focus (every activity is free or financially supported by free donations) but also that individualism is not promoted (avoiding the creation of charismatic figures) and respect and equality have power (with choices made through consensus rather than the will of the majority).
Despite identifying these realities on the ground, however, I found the beginning of my research marked by a sustained pessimism and distrust. I was not convinced of the possibility of being able to ‘get anything out’ of the research on social centres. Maybe this was because I had the preconception of seeing them as extremely entrenched, able only to survive and without any potential to do more than just defend against the offensives of capital and the municipality, which have long wanted to see them shut down. Or perhaps I was simply prey to delusions of grandeur because I thought the thesis was a pivotal moment in my future and I should have found something ‘perfect’ and influential enough to report, or at least something ‘big’ that would have allowed me to relate a good story, maybe something ideological. In any case, I was not confident about this project.
Setting the (confusing) scene
My research focused on two social centres of the city of Florence: a big, old occupied factory on the outskirt of the city (Next Emerson) and a tiny squat in the city centre (Via del Leone). To start connecting with these realities, participating in their assemblies – open weekly meetings where activists discuss future events and other organisational issues – was the best and fastest way I knew. I contacted the centres and started attending their meetings and any possible event I was allowed to participate in (cinema forums, political debates, sports courses, concerts, etc.). But no matter how many activities I participated in, things weren’t shaping up with a precise focus or direction, either academically or personally. I was asking questions and approaching arguments vaguely and without first considering the human side of relationships – and without really connecting with people, I couldn’t connect with their realities.
Moreover, I did not know which information to keep and which to leave out. I was, in a way, just greedy for data, and I wasn’t ‘giving back’ anything to the context I was collecting from. I remember feeling like a leech, trying to exploit any moment to ask questions in a too-ideological way, waiting for crucial answers that might steer my research and soothe my preoccupations. I am quite sure this was only my perception – it wasn’t that of the activists – but it was hampering me in at least two ways. First and foremost, I was not connecting with people on a human level, I wasn’t letting people get too close, not allowing myself to have genuine relationships in this (as yet) unexplored environment. Second, I couldn’t get enough ‘valuable’ information to start thinking about a thesis report since I was always revolving around the same two or three concepts – the inability of the municipality to respond to the needs of residents and the privatisation and related touristification of the city. In short, I was becoming frustrated: no matter what my effort, I didn’t seem to be getting anywhere.
Narrow the lens, think smaller
More than two years after my fieldwork, I am still not sure about what I did that was good, but I can surely list many things that I wouldn’t repeat now. Certainly, I believe that almost every fieldwork error I made derived from not thinking on a small, contextualised scale, and although there was no lack of revelatory moments encountered in the context of both social centres, it took me a while to fully understand them. Some of these moments, I only really understood during the writing phase. As I now appreciate, for example, many routine events transparently show important aspects of the activity of social centres. Just to mention a couple, the weekly meetings are great examples of the respectful and horizontal approaches to decision-making spaces – which I consider their political structure – and benefit events (such as helpdesks for food securitisation of residents in need) embody the social approach (based on mutual support) that the centres would like to implement in society as a whole – which are ideologically formed by members who ‘give and take’ according to their needs and abilities.
Among the many moments from which I could have (earlier) grasped the ideological principles that activists enact every day, there was one specific event that truly changed my way of socially approaching activists. One night during the summer of 2021, some Florentine social movements – including the Via del Leone squat – organised an illegal public jam session to protest for the privatisation of one the most popular squares in town, Santo Spirito (gatherings in public places were prohibited at the time due to Covid restrictions). I actively participated, both because I found it a good way to have fun practising my drumming skills after two years of not being able to play in a band and especially because I found myself fully embracing the spirit of the protest. For me, as for most Florentine youth, Santo Spirito has always been a social stronghold in the city, probably because it represents the last bulwark of ‘free sociality’ in a city that demands a lot, both in economic and social status terms. Santo Spirito has always represented a welcoming place – for everyone. Historically, it was the most popular and active square in the city, and today, any kind of social protest is performed and the national liberation festival situated here. During that night, I blended with the activists of the centres; this was when I first emphasised with them. Playing music and drinking beer together, as easy and fun as it sounds, gave me a whole new perspective, both on research and on my personal involvement and sense of the context.
From that moment on, quite spontaneously and unconsciously, I started being more active and proactive in the centres. I made myself available to help in the ways I could, and I started being more focused on day-by-day activities. I began to understand the reasons for certain actions and the mechanisms that were intended to be activated through certain actions. I started feeling part of the struggles, although in a softer and certainly less committed way than the activists. I learned much more from living the activities than by asking questions. And, most importantly, I started looking at why they were doing things the way they were. I understood that keeping the centres illegal was a conscious and entirely voluntary choice of the militants and that legalising a social centre would represent the weakening of the socio-political struggle they are continuing. I understood that the food and house helpdesks (activities to ensure the alimentary and residential needs of the neighbours) are forms of mutual support, created and managed with the same neighbourhood residents (whether directly involved with the centres or not) in order to move towards a community that stands on its own feet. Eventually, I realised that, contrary to my initial expectations, these centres could represent wholesome ways of creating alternative societies and socialities based on principles that are completely different from those that we assume and which live in us as standard in conventional, ‘everyday’ life. To sum up, I let myself be absorbed by the context.
Solutions are closer than we (I) think
It would be hypocritical for me to say that, were I to conduct further research in the future, I would definitely treasure what I learned in this experience. Surely, today, I want to tell myself that this would be the case – and certainly, I would avoid creating that self-installed barrier with my interlocutors. I would try to look for emotional anchors and similarities with people as one of the first things to do. If this were a piece of actual advice to the ‘me’ before my research, I would tell myself to let go and look for human connections before research aims and arguments, to look at things from a closer perspective, to find something that stimulates emotions before ambitions. I honestly didn’t like to feel like a leech, sucking out sterile information without knowing what to do with it. The moment in which I felt a connection with the people and the context was the most productive and happy, both personally and research-wise. To zoom in and focus on particular moments of activists’ lives and routines – even if they seemed futile – was a real game-changer. I started to develop a structure in my mind about what I wanted to research and write in my thesis just because I was emotionally committed to tangible events and situations. I started being collaborative and trying to give back what I received. And what I am happiest about is that I still have connections with these realities, I still have social bonds and ‘projects’ with militants – meaning that it was not only me feeling what I felt. It was definitely fulfilling, both socially and academically, to have a real connection with these environments, one that was not just based on ideologies. In the end, I understood that thesis research is not an easy and straightforward process, but when the price of good social and academic outcomes consists of a night of beer and music, I think many could be willing to make the effort.
Rural Sociology Wageningen University 