Bologna has been a hotbed of counter-culture since the 60s. But with last week’s eviction of queer-feminist social space Atlantide, the city’s reputation as the beating heart of autonomous politics suffered a devastating loss

Among Bologna’s three unofficial nicknames – the fat, the learned and the red – it is the first that most people grasp immediately. Tagliatelle al ragú was invented here, and there is no shortage of mortadella, tortellini or even a decent piadina to be washed down with a bright, bubbly pignoletto.

But this medieval city’s miles of arcaded pavements, saturated with street writing, political murals and subversively ironic graffiti, tell an even richer story of political activism and resistance to gentrification. Now, however, the city’s “red” reputation is in danger of being dispatched to the history books – or at least fading to pink in the wash.

In the 1960s and 70s, the city that is home to the oldest university in Europe was transformed by feminist, workerist, student and queer movements into a hotbed of counter-culture and non-institutional politics. But last week, Bologna’s living legacy as one of the beating hearts of autonomous politics suffered a devastating loss.

In the morning darkness of 9 October, Atlantide (named after Atlantis) – the last self-managed social space in the central city – was forcibly evicted from its home of 17 years on the order of Virginio Merola, the city’s mayor. The police bricked over the door of the building just an hour after the eviction. As news of the eviction circulated, so too did photos of supporters holding signs reading #AtlantideOvunque: Atlantide Everywhere.

As the eviction news circulated, so did photos of people holding signs reading #AtlantideOvunque: Atlantide Everywhere

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Bologna ... a medieval city saturated with political murals and subversively ironic graffiti. Photograph: Alamy

Until the early 2000s, following the peak of the anti-globalisation movement in Genoa, Bologna’s historical centre was filled with such autonomous spaces. Since then, however, these have gradually been pushed out by an increasingly right-wing municipal government – with the majority of evicted spaces remaining empty ever since.



Atlantide was born in 1998, when a group of activists that included the Tute Bianche (“white overalls”, for the signature one-piece suits they wore to demonstrations) occupied the abandoned, publicly owned gate to the city at 6a Piazza Porta Santo Stefano.



The building is one of two identical 19th-century structures that straddle the piazza: across the street stands the home of anarchist group Circolo Anarchico Berneri, gifted on a 99-year lease in recognition of anarchist contributions to the city and to anti-fascist resistance during the second world war. Ironically, to enter the city through Porta Santo Stefano, the only right-wing neighbourhood in Bologna, one must pass between these two radical buildings.



From the beginning, Atlantide was unique among political spaces in the city. While most occupied spaces are home to a single collective, Atlantide was home to groups whose politics, at first blush, might seem infelicitous: Antagonismo Gay, a gay separatist group; Quelle Che Non Ci Stanno, a group of feminist and lesbian separatists; and NullaOsta, a group of punks.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest The police enter Atlantide on 9 October. Photograph: Michele Lapini

But over the space’s first 10 years, these groups managed to sustain a unique urban ecology where distinct politics and practices flourished. Take, for example, Antagonismo Gay’s efforts to revive the suppressed legacy of Mario Mieli, perhaps Italy’s most notorious queer activist, who committed suicide in 1983. Or Quelle Che Non Ci Stanno’s resistance to male violence against women, exemplified by sit-ins outside courthouses to support survivors of rape and sexual violence. All of this was purposely accomplished without state or institutional backing.

In 2008, a new collective was born in Atlantide: the trans*-feminist-queer Laboratorio Smaschieramenti. Their name, like so many things Atlant-idea, is a double entendre: Smaschieramenti means both un-masking and de-masculinising. The group’s roots span a variety of contexts, but it has become a touchstone for the movement both within and outside Italy.

In the lead-up to last week’s eviction, the mayor of Bologna claimed that the space in Piazza Porta Santo Stefano was needed to open social services for the city – but what has gone unacknowledged by politicians is the work that was already flourishing in Atlantide.

A statement aimed at building solidarity among academics and activists​ has even been signed by Judith Butler

Facebook Twitter Pinterest A demonstration takes to Bologna’s streets on 10 October for #AtlantideOvunque – Atlantide is Everywhere. Photograph: Michele Lapini

At Smaschieramenti’s final public assembly in the space, the group presented two of their ongoing projects: a community-based queer and trans* health centre – or consultoria – and an independent research centre and queer activist archive. The latter project not only speaks to the lack of institutional recognition of trans*, feminist and queer knowledge in Italy, it also reflects the group’s longstanding engagement with the grassroots production of knowledge. As activists noted in the assembly, neither project can survive or thrive without a physical space.

A statement aimed at building solidarity among transnational academics, activists and artists has already garnered signatures from supporters across the world, including such luminaries as Judith Butler.

An insider's guide to Bologna: endless arcades of counter-culture Read more

The story of Atlantide might, for some in the rapidly gentrifying capitals of Europe and North America, seem overly utopic. For those whose everyday environment is marked by homogenising branding initiatives and the ubiquity of multinational banks and corporate outposts, spaces such as Atlantide are all too often expected to be lost.

Yet, at the very heart of Atlantide is a practice of self-determination that requires collective, non-institutional control of urban and public spaces. Such work relies on deep and personal relationships of mutual support among seemingly disparate groups.

The day after the eviction, announcing further demonstrations as Atlantide intensifies its search for a new space, Smaschieramenti member Viviana said: “Atlantide is not simply a space. Atlantide is what is happening between me and you … Atlantide is everywhere.”

Darren Patrick is a transnational activist, academic and embedded member of Laboratorio Smaschieramenti, one of the collectives that make up Atlantide. Follow Guardian Cities on Twitter and Facebook to join the discussion