This is the number that measures Italy's level of civilization. It's not
an identification code or the result of a mathematical calculation:
1,090 people died at work in 2024. Killed not by fate, but by falls from
heights, crushing, or electrocution, often aggravated by failure to
implement safety measures, excessive fatigue, or inadequate work
environments. This number marks a 4.7% increase over the previous year,
and all this in a country that defines itself as modern, European, and
democratic. 2025, now drawing to a close, offers nothing different: from
January to September, 784 victims were recorded, compared to 776 deaths
recorded in the same period in 2024. And in the following months, up
until early November, more names were added to that endless list that we
hypocritically call accidental deaths to avoid calling them workplace
homicides. The construction sector continues to lead the list of deaths,
followed by manufacturing, transportation, warehousing, and trade, which
together account for over 50% of all deaths. These numbers speak of
shattered lives and affected families, and in the immediate aftermath of
the event, they resonate with the public and become tools for public
discussion, sparking intense emotions and igniting political debate.
They tell of a boy who fell from a ten-meter silo in the province of
Rovigo. They reveal the tragic fate of a worker who died in Rome after
being trapped for almost an entire day under the rubble of the collapse
of the Torre dei Conti in the Imperial Forum. They describe three men
who, on a sultry July day in Naples, died after falling from a mobile
scaffolding hoist while working on roof maintenance on a seven-story
building. They describe the tragic end of two workers who, on June 23,
were crushed by a slab of rock in Lombardy. And so many other stories
like these, which last as long as a newspaper headline.
Each time, the script is the same. Condolences, flowers, indignant
tweets, clichés: "Dying on the job is an outrage to civilization," "You
can't lose your life working." Then silence falls. Until the next
tragedy. A ritual of national falsehood, repeated identically for
decades. Institutions are moved, promise safety, convene discussions,
but forget the essential: on Italian construction sites, the average age
is 47. They overlook the fact that the highest mortality rate is among
those over sixty-five, followed by workers between 55 and 64. They
pretend not to see that men of that age should be retired, not clinging
to scaffolding twenty meters above the ground, with tired bodies and
shaking hands. These are men who started working at fifteen or sixteen.
They've spent their entire lives among scaffolding, iron, concrete, and
wind. They've built houses, roads, schools, bridges. Yet, at sixty,
they're still there,
climbing on innocent pipes, with the cold cutting their skin in the
winter and the scorching heat in the summer.
For them, the retirement age remains 67, the same as for those who work
in an office, sitting in front of a computer. Only the very small group
of workers constantly engaged in underground activities, in confined
spaces, or in extreme climatic conditions-so-called "abusive jobs"-can
access early retirement. Nor can they benefit from other forms of early
retirement, such as APE Sociale, because they rarely demonstrate at
least six continuous years of contributions within the last seven years.
A bureaucratic process that often denies the right to it to those who
need it most. And that's not all.
Despite the exhausting, dangerous jobs that require physical strength,
pinpoint attention, and extreme clarity, wages remain among the lowest
in Europe. A construction worker earns less than an administrative
clerk, but every day they put their life on the line. Chronic fatigue,
accumulated tiredness, and grueling shifts increase the risk of error,
and therefore death. Those who work with their heads have more rights
than those who work with their hands.
But it is precisely on the hands of these men that the entire country
rests. Houses, schools, bridges, factories: everything around us is
built by their toil. And so the question is no longer whether Italy is
civilized, but what idea of dignity it has chosen to accept. Perhaps the
real wear and tear is not that of the bodies on construction sites, but
the moral wear and tear of a nation that considers work a personal risk
and not a collective right. And as long as the death of a worker remains
news and not a scandal, no reform, no promise, and no flower can be
called justice.
Sabrina Barresi
https://www.ucadi.org/2025/11/30/1-090-la-misura-della-civilta-dellitalia/
_________________________________________
A - I N F O S N E W S S E R V I C E
By, For, and About Anarchists
Send news reports to A-infos-en mailing list
A-infos-en@ainfos.ca
an identification code or the result of a mathematical calculation:
1,090 people died at work in 2024. Killed not by fate, but by falls from
heights, crushing, or electrocution, often aggravated by failure to
implement safety measures, excessive fatigue, or inadequate work
environments. This number marks a 4.7% increase over the previous year,
and all this in a country that defines itself as modern, European, and
democratic. 2025, now drawing to a close, offers nothing different: from
January to September, 784 victims were recorded, compared to 776 deaths
recorded in the same period in 2024. And in the following months, up
until early November, more names were added to that endless list that we
hypocritically call accidental deaths to avoid calling them workplace
homicides. The construction sector continues to lead the list of deaths,
followed by manufacturing, transportation, warehousing, and trade, which
together account for over 50% of all deaths. These numbers speak of
shattered lives and affected families, and in the immediate aftermath of
the event, they resonate with the public and become tools for public
discussion, sparking intense emotions and igniting political debate.
They tell of a boy who fell from a ten-meter silo in the province of
Rovigo. They reveal the tragic fate of a worker who died in Rome after
being trapped for almost an entire day under the rubble of the collapse
of the Torre dei Conti in the Imperial Forum. They describe three men
who, on a sultry July day in Naples, died after falling from a mobile
scaffolding hoist while working on roof maintenance on a seven-story
building. They describe the tragic end of two workers who, on June 23,
were crushed by a slab of rock in Lombardy. And so many other stories
like these, which last as long as a newspaper headline.
Each time, the script is the same. Condolences, flowers, indignant
tweets, clichés: "Dying on the job is an outrage to civilization," "You
can't lose your life working." Then silence falls. Until the next
tragedy. A ritual of national falsehood, repeated identically for
decades. Institutions are moved, promise safety, convene discussions,
but forget the essential: on Italian construction sites, the average age
is 47. They overlook the fact that the highest mortality rate is among
those over sixty-five, followed by workers between 55 and 64. They
pretend not to see that men of that age should be retired, not clinging
to scaffolding twenty meters above the ground, with tired bodies and
shaking hands. These are men who started working at fifteen or sixteen.
They've spent their entire lives among scaffolding, iron, concrete, and
wind. They've built houses, roads, schools, bridges. Yet, at sixty,
they're still there,
climbing on innocent pipes, with the cold cutting their skin in the
winter and the scorching heat in the summer.
For them, the retirement age remains 67, the same as for those who work
in an office, sitting in front of a computer. Only the very small group
of workers constantly engaged in underground activities, in confined
spaces, or in extreme climatic conditions-so-called "abusive jobs"-can
access early retirement. Nor can they benefit from other forms of early
retirement, such as APE Sociale, because they rarely demonstrate at
least six continuous years of contributions within the last seven years.
A bureaucratic process that often denies the right to it to those who
need it most. And that's not all.
Despite the exhausting, dangerous jobs that require physical strength,
pinpoint attention, and extreme clarity, wages remain among the lowest
in Europe. A construction worker earns less than an administrative
clerk, but every day they put their life on the line. Chronic fatigue,
accumulated tiredness, and grueling shifts increase the risk of error,
and therefore death. Those who work with their heads have more rights
than those who work with their hands.
But it is precisely on the hands of these men that the entire country
rests. Houses, schools, bridges, factories: everything around us is
built by their toil. And so the question is no longer whether Italy is
civilized, but what idea of dignity it has chosen to accept. Perhaps the
real wear and tear is not that of the bodies on construction sites, but
the moral wear and tear of a nation that considers work a personal risk
and not a collective right. And as long as the death of a worker remains
news and not a scandal, no reform, no promise, and no flower can be
called justice.
Sabrina Barresi
https://www.ucadi.org/2025/11/30/1-090-la-misura-della-civilta-dellitalia/
_________________________________________
A - I N F O S N E W S S E R V I C E
By, For, and About Anarchists
Send news reports to A-infos-en mailing list
A-infos-en@ainfos.ca
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