The Capodarco Community

Meet the Capodarco community through firsthand accounts gathered from Don Franco Rubianesi during a visit to their center on Via Lungro
The Capodarco Community
Foto di Jan Huber su Unsplash
Archival content: this article was published more than 40 years ago. The language and content reflect the sensitivities of the time.

Many of us have heard the name Capodarco before—perhaps only in passing, as a word that carries hope and the promise of something new.
It deserves closer attention. We offer what we learned from Don Franco Rubianesi during a visit to their center on Via Lungro, hoping to deepen your understanding of this remarkable place.

Capodarco, above all, means community: it means coming together, standing in solidarity, refusing to feel alone or to leave others alone.

In December 1966, in the Marche village that gives the community its name, a first group took shape. It consisted of Don Franco Rubianesi and about ten young people with various disabilities and "wonderful dreams for the future". They were young people determined to break free from isolation, to learn through living together how to accept one another, to grow as any young people do, and to gain independence through work—even simple work with beads and other crafts. The community was open to anyone who wanted to participate in building this vision. It grew quickly. The work became more substantial, especially in ceramics, where they made beautiful things and earned recognition abroad.

In 1969 the International Civil Service brought volunteers from around the world—from Asia, Africa, and the Americas.

Those we met told us it was a vibrant time: exhilarating years that gave everyone powerful reasons to hope, to test themselves, to reflect.

Today communities exist in several parts of Italy: Udine, Endine, Lamezia Terme, Sestu, Fabriano, Gubbio, and Perugia. They differ in structure, but they share a democratic way of relating to one another, rooted in recognizing the worth of each person. What sets them apart—what truly defines them—is their openness to the world around them: to their neighborhoods, their cities, and especially to those who, by virtue of their fragility and marginalization, are slowly and inexorably pushed to the edges of society.

Rome has a large central group on Via Lungro 3, with two thriving workshops in electronics and ceramics. But the real direction is toward smaller communities—"family centers," sometimes actual families of young people who first met in the main community. When groups are smaller, it's easier to deepen relationships and to face the tensions and conflicts that inevitably arise in a life so rich, so focused on the future, so determined never to diminish or crush anyone, even in the name of peace and order.

The two groups on Via Lungro are meant to become, in the near future, social centers above all—places with offices, meeting spaces, professional training programs, and therapies open to the whole neighborhood.

Financially, they receive funding from the ministry, but work is one of their main sources of support. Everyone living in the community receives the same monthly allowance—essentially the same wage: forty-five to fifty thousand lire per month.

The details we've shared may not be precise, and we regret any inaccuracy.
What matters is the spirit that animates so many people in our time. A spirit of life and hope in an age that can deceive us into seeing only death and despair.

Lucia Bertolini, 1978

Lucia Bertolini

Lucia Bertolini

Author of articles published in Ombre e Luci.

In total 349 authors have contributed to Ombre e Luci.

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