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Tōryū

M: Son of the Century

Turin is presented as a city where disputes over working time, control of production, and the prospect of revolution converged. At Fiat, a quarrel over moving the clock forward became a ten-day general strike involving 120,000 workers in the city and province, with 60,000 occupying factories. In 1920, workers again took control of industrial premises; a settlement brokered by Giovanni Giolitti brought the occupations to an end with wage and regulatory gains, but left the revolutionary project unrealized. The city’s unrest also included deadly shootings, making it a place where industrial conflict could turn abruptly into violence.

The clock dispute and the general strike

At the end of March, workers at Fiat in Turin resisted the government’s extension of daylight-saving time, which had first been adopted during the war. They rejected the change not merely as an adjustment to the clock but as a decision about who commanded their time: they insisted that they, rather than Senator Giovanni Agnelli, should determine it. The industrialists answered with a lockout, and the dispute expanded into a ten-day general strike involving 120,000 workers in Turin and the surrounding province.

Some 60,000 workers occupied factories to prevent the clocks from being moved forward by an hour. The narrative treats this scale of action as evidence that the dispute exceeded its immediate cause. The clock hand became a point of confrontation over authority, and the demand to control working time opened onto the larger expectation of revolution. Yet the strike’s political meaning was contested: socialist leaders had postponed decisive action, and the split between maximalists unwilling to participate in power and reformists unwilling to attempt a seizure of it left the movement without a common course.

Occupied factories and the limits of worker control

During the later factory occupations, Turin’s labor leaders faced a choice between keeping the struggle inside the factories and carrying it into the streets. They feared that acting alone outside the workplaces would expose the workers to defeat. Although the workers had weapons, their leaders believed those arms could sustain no more than ten minutes of fire. The General Confederation of Labour referred the decision to the Socialist Party directors, who had the authority to act under their agreements; the party leadership did not exercise it and continued to defer a decision.

The occupations nevertheless demonstrated a form of collective capacity. In Turin, workers helped make production operate without bank financing, raw materials, or the guidance of technicians and engineers. Their organization included restrictions on drinking during shifts, surveillance to prevent theft, and watch over machinery and materials. The account describes thirty memorable days in which workers maintained production through discipline and shared effort. That achievement did not remove their dependence on supplies, finance, or expertise, but it made the factories a practical demonstration of labor’s ability to organize work for itself.

Giolitti’s settlement

The political impasse in Turin opened the way for Giovanni Giolitti, appointed prime minister amid the country’s crisis. Industrialists, including Giovanni Agnelli, pressed him to suppress the workers by force. Giolitti refused to use artillery against the factories, answering Agnelli’s demand for decisive action with a pointed warning about what firing on Fiat would mean. His approach was mediation rather than military repression.

At the Hotel Bologna in Turin, Agnelli, De Benedetti, and Pirelli agreed to wage increases and regulatory improvements, as well as assurances of worker control and profit sharing. Giolitti intended the last two assurances to remain promises rather than enforceable transfers of power. In return, the workers agreed to give the factories back. The settlement therefore combined a substantial economic concession with a political retreat: workers gained better terms, but the occupation ended without the broader transformation they had associated with revolution.

Violence within the industrial conflict

Turin’s factory crisis was accompanied by individual acts of violence. In one incident, industrialist and foundry owner Francesco Debenedetti responded to gunfire directed at the Capamianto factory from the attic of his foundry by killing Raffaele Vandich, a Belgian shoemaker, and Tommaso Gatti, from Barletta. The account distinguishes these deaths from a coordinated revolutionary outbreak, describing them as individual acts of frustration. That distinction matters: the city’s conflict was armed and dangerous, but the anticipated revolution did not arrive.

Turin thus appears in two contrasting registers. At Fiat, workers occupied factories and organized production collectively; in the negotiations, their economic gains were exchanged for returning those workplaces. Alongside that organized struggle, shootings showed how readily industrial confrontation could produce lethal consequences. The city’s episode gives concrete form to the wider gap between revolutionary expectation and political outcome: collective action reached the factory gates and took control of the shop floor, but party hesitation and Giolitti’s compromise contained it within a settlement over wages, regulations, and promises of participation.