A SOCIETY TRANSFORMED BY INDUSTRY
Cover Story
Nowhere does the plant, man, grow more vigorously than in Italy.
--Stendhal, 1826
IN the land of Michelangelo, Garibaldi and the Medicis there reigns a vast and unusual variety of contemporary heroes. The Italians idolize Grand Prix drivers, artists, novelists and occasionally Sicilian banditti. They fall barely short of adoring Nino Benvenuti, the boxing champion. They lavish attention on their celebrated movie directors--Antonioni, Fellini, Rossellini. And who, of course, could overlook Gina or Sophia?
To this colorful collection the Italians have lately added a less likely hero: the industrialist. He has earned national popularity because he and his kind are transforming Italy. The industrialists have produced an economic expansion that Italians call Il Miracolo or, simply, Il Boom, which has laced the countryside with crowded autostrade and studded the cities and villages with TV antennas. More fundamentally, Il Boom is converting Italy from a peasant society that served an elite into a consumer society that caters to the mass of the country's 54 million people.
The most widely admired and envied Italian industrialist--the Numero Uno--is Giovanni Agnelli, the head of automaking Fiat. Turin-based Fiat, which has produced four out of every five cars on Italy's roads, has done more than any other Italian firm to shape the country's new affluence at home and influence abroad. "Agnelli has a mythology not unlike President Kennedy's," writes British Journalist Anthony Sampson in The New Europeans. "Clearly his presence fills some kind of psychological gap."
A City-State
At 47, "Gianni" Agnelli (pronounced Johnny An-yell-ie) lives in the style of an ancient Florentine prince. He is probably Italy's richest man and heaviest taxpayer--and he is, as well, an articulate social critic with a healthy appetite for life. His wife, a Neapolitan princess, is a renowned beauty and an energetic volunteer social worker as well as a society leader. The Agnellis have a couple of palaces and several retreats in the mountains and on the Italian Riviera. They travel among them in their own jet, helicopter and yachts. They socialize with the Henry Fords, Jackie and Ari Onassis, Rainier and Grace, and assorted Rothschilds--that is, when the head of the household is not busy talking Fiat business with Charles de Gaulle or Aleksei Kosygin.
Fiat is more than a company; it is a city-state. Most of its 157,000 employees work in 22 plants around smog-covered Turin. Their paychecks, which average $1.28 an hour for a 45-hour week, directly support 40% of the city's 1,300,000 population. Fiat has company housing, company resorts and entertainment, company clinics and sports teams--but few company strikes. There have been work stoppages on only 34 days in the past six years. Fiat also controls Turin's La Stampa (circ. 500,000), which is probably Italy's best daily after the Corriere della Sera. It far outsells the Communist daily L'Unita among Turin's workers. Like Agnelli, the paper is undogmatic, progressive and slightly left-of-center on most issues.
The giant that Gianni Agnelli operates last year had alltime-high sales of $2.1 billion. It turned out 1,750,000 cars as well as turbines, jet fighter planes, trucks, diesel engines and farm equipment. For the second year in a row, Fiat outproduced Volkswagen (1,603,500 cars) and ranked as the biggest auto company outside the U.S. Shipments abroad of Fiats, by far Italy's biggest export item, rose in 1968 from 398,000 cars to 535,000, worth $496 million. Even in Germany, home of the Volkswagen, 1 out of 13 cars is a Fiat. Sales to the U.S. have been relatively modest because Agnelli has concentrated on exports to Europe and has only recently begun a drive to market a broader range of bigger cars in America. Still, Fiat's U.S. sales doubled.in 1968 to 31,000.
Two months ago, Fiat leaped further across national borders--and advanced the cause of European integration--by taking over France's Citroen. Agnelli personally negotiated the deal with some friends, France's tiremaking Michelin family, which controls Citroen. Agnelli sought an outright takeover, but Charles de Gaulle objected and the French government limited Fiat to a 15% holding in the firm. In fact, Fiat will get effective control of Citroen through a complex holding-company arrangement. "Have no doubts about it," Agnelli told a friend. "The merger is complete." When the Fiat-Citroen "collaboration" formally begins this month, Agnelli will, in effect, preside over a combine with total sales of $3 billion and annual production of more than 2,000,000 cars.
Agnelli is also looking to Eastern Europe, where the auto market is underdeveloped and potentially great. Tito's Yugoslavia builds Fiats under a licensing arrangement, and Poland recently signed a similar agreement to build "Polski-Fiats." Russia has hired Fiat to help it construct and run an $800 million plant at Togliattigrad on the Volga. The huge plant is scheduled to begin producing Fiats by early 1970, and work up to an annual output of 600,000. "It is hard for Italian Communists to complain about Agnelli," says Rome University Economist Paolo Sylos-Labini. "After all, if Fiat is good for Russia, why shouldn't it be good for Italy?"
Nation of Gifted Soloists
Not surprisingly, the Agnellis--Gianni and his five brothers and sisters--are often described as "not a family but an economy." When Agnelli tells people that he "looks after a few matters for my brothers and sisters," he refers to his stewardship of I.F.I. (Istituto Finanziario Industriale), a family holding company that looks after a sizable chunk of Italy. I.F.I, holds the family's 25% controlling interest in Fiat, plus a 50% interest in Cinzano vermouth and investments in cement, chemicals, shipping, insurance, finance, assorted hotels and real estate.
One particular I.F.I, interest is in Villar Perosa, a town of 4,000 not far from Turin. The people use a church on the Agnellis' 60-acre country estate and draw their livelihood from an I.F.I.-controlled ball-bearing industry. They also routinely elect Agnellis as their mayors. Gianni has held the job since World War II, and his main concerns have been with Villar Perosa's housing, its budget and its roads. Recently I.F.I, issued 3,000,000 shares of stock that were eagerly bought at $9.63 each by some 30,000 investors. Gianni's own 15% of I.F.I, is the main source of his wealth. Altogether, the Agnelli family riches are estimated at about $500 million.
If Agnelli is not exactly typical of Italy's industrialists, he is certainly foremost among them. Like Italian architects, film makers and sculptors, Italian industrialists have a certain flair. In the board room as on the opera stage, Italy is a nation of soloists; committee rule is rare, and stock ownership has not yet diminished the powers of owners and operators. Their accomplishments are all the more remarkable because the country is poor in resources, save for the ingenuity, inventiveness and individualism of its managers.
There is practically no oil in Italy, yet the state-run E.N.I, monopoly became a world petroleum power under the late Enrico Mattei and his successor, Eugenio Cefis. Mattei bought crude from the Soviets, developed natural-gas resources in the Po Valley, and proudly declared that in building E.N.I., "I broke 8,000 laws." To sidestep Cyclopean bureaucrats--with their time-consuming rules about building permits and their endless paper work--he laid the pipelines at night, while the officials slept.
Italy also has very little coal or iron. When, in 1947, some Italian leaders requested a World Bank loan to build a steel industry, the bankers rather snidely advised them to stick to growing tomatoes. But Industrialist Oscar Sinigaglia, then head of the state-owned Finsider steel complex, landed a big order from Fiat and went on to locate his mills at ports, where ships bring in coal and steel from the cheapest foreign sellers. Finsider is now Europe's biggest steel producer, and last year Italy's output rose from 17.4 million tons to 18.7 million, fifth highest in the world.
In other fields, Olivetti's business machines are known the world over. Pirelli exports tires to more than 100 countries, and has become the Continent's biggest tire company. In publishing, Milan's Fabbri Brothers created a major business by capitalizing on Italy's rising educational levels and its fascination with installment-plan buying. They brought out high-quality serializations of The Divine Comedy, the Bible and other works, now sell more than 1,000,000 copies a week on Italian newsstands. Italian designers are famed for what they do with silks and leather, and their fashions are in high demand. French, Dutch and Belgian appliance firms have been unable to compete with lower-priced Italian refrigerators and washing machines. Italian construction combines outbid competitors for huge jobs in Africa, Latin America and Asia. Says a Milan-based builder: "Being a bit of an underdeveloped country yourself helps you work in other underdeveloped regions."
Europe's Fastest-Moving Economy
Powered by industry, Italy's economic expansion has been the fastest in Europe and second in the world only to Japan's. In the past three years, production of goods and services has risen an average 5% a year, to $72 billion in 1968, and is expected by the European Economic Commission to gain another 6% this year. It is true that Italy is growing fast partly because it has considerable catching up to do; Italy's economy remains one-twelfth as big as the U.S.'s economy and half the size of West Germany's.
Yet few countries have a stronger trading position in world markets. The increasing shipments of Italian steel, refrigerators, TV sets, typewriters, tires--and cars--have lifted exports by almost 200% since 1960, to 1968's $10 billion. Italy had a comfortable $600 million surplus in its balance of payments for 1968, when its reserves of gold and currency exchange rose to $5.2 billion, a total exceeded only by the U.S. and Germany. The Italian lira ranks with the German mark as one of the world's soundest currencies, and it is eagerly sought by speculators, who bet on its upward revaluation in the not-distant future. A grudging testimonial to its strength came last month, when the U.S. Treasury, in a report on the American balance of payments problem, suggested that the defense of the dollar would be easier if Italy and West Germany did not promote exports quite so aggressively.
Though the country's export success is partly due to the relatively low wages of its workers, prosperity has spread fairly widely among the people. Per capita income has doubled in a decade to $1,340 a year. In a country where even ice cubes were scarce a decade ago, 65% of the families now have refrigerators. About 40% own washing machines, and 60% heat their frozen pizza in gas or electric ovens.
The most conspicuous sign of the new prosperity--and the greatest single force behind it--is the increasing au-tomobilization of Italy. As in the U.S. after World War I and in Germany after World War II, the mass marketing of autos has created new factories, jobs and paychecks in Italy by generating demand for steel, rubber, glass, brass and gas. There was only one car for every 350 Italians before World War II; now there is one for seven --compared with one for five in West Germany and one for two in the U.S. Every Friday 4,000,000 city dwellers pack baggage and bambini into their cars and, with horns shrieking and clutches crunching, take off for the country to enjoy what they call Il Weekend. The automobile gives them a new sense of freedom. In all, 8,000,000 cars jam the country's plazas, its poplar-lined roads and its new highways, which are already so crowded that trucks may soon be banned at peak traffic hours.
The auto-borne prosperity leads to economic and social mobility as well as to physical mobility. Sicilians and Calabrians who used to dream of emigrating to America can now find jobs in their own country. Last year 300,000 of them permanently left their farms for the northern manufacturing cities like Milan and Turin, where many work in Fiat's plants.
Propelling Prosperity
There remain shocking gaps in Italy's prosperity. Unemployment among the country's 20 million-member labor force hovers at 3,4%, which is high by Western European standards. It would be higher still, but 1,500,000 Italians have temporarily migrated in order to work in other European countries (one major employer: Germany's Volkswagen). In southern Italy, where many of the 18 million inhabitants live in poverty and illiteracy, per capita income is only $637. "Africa begins at Naples," goes an Italian saying about the South's leading city. Naples lives on memories, and some think that the last good one was the invasion of the fun-loving, free-spending G.I.s in 1944. Tens of thousands of destitute Neapolitans still exist in wretched bassi--basement apartments divided into "rooms" by blankets hung from lines that have been strung from wall to wall.
Now, many depressed areas are being revitalized. In Taranto, an ancient Spartan port inside the heel of the Italian boot, the government runs a model industrialization program. It has increased the city's per capita income in the past dozen years from 62% of the national average to 96%. The city has a Shell refinery, the major Finsider steel plant, a cement company and satellite industries, and its workers live in modern apartment blocks.
Another example of the propelling force of prosperity is the old Adriatic fishing village of Marzocca. Fifteen years ago, the sole signs of the 20th century in Marzocca were a lone telephone and electricity in the evening. Its population was 300--barefoot, black-hooded women, and fishermen bound to wind and sail. But Italy's general economic strength has created a thriving domestic tourist business, and vacationers have transformed the place. Its population has grown to 3,000; more than a few inhabitants have changed from bricklayers to contractors, and they have built hotels, restaurants and summer houses along 14 miles of beach front. Those who still fish take their catch in motorboats and send it to market in refrigerated trucks.
Admittedly, the new affluence has turned Italy into something of a tourist's paradise lost. Leisurely lunches and long siestas are disappearing because many Italians are too busy; sun-baked piazzas have become parking lots. Incensed at the din around centuries-old monuments, Roman officials have banned cars from many historic areas. More basically, Italians complain about the problems associated with rapid industrialization--snarled traffic, polluted air and a shortage of services. Agnelli recognizes and worries about all that. "While life has improved," he notes, "many problems have become worse because the towns and cities into which people are flowing do not have facilities to cope with them. The schools, hospitals and roads are all insufficient to handle the increased demands. This is, of course, true in all affluent societies."
Italians are discovering that change brings pain along with progress. As in Japan and other recently industrialized countries, old values are being discarded but new ones are slow in coming. Affluence makes for mobility; mobility makes for tension and conflicts. "Ours is a restless society," says Guido Carli, head of the Bank of Italy. "There is upward economic movement, but the institutions are not growing and changing in the same way."
Affluence has shown Italians that they need not accept the status quo, and they are demanding basic social and political changes. Last month, as workers protested higher living costs with a violent one-day general strike, Italy's 26th government since 1945 resigned. The 27th seems broadly based enough to appease all factions in the center-left coalition--Premier Mariano Rumor has 26 Ministers and 57 Undersecretaries--but it is shaky. Last week more strikes broke out in more than 20 cities. In Rome, judges and lawyers staged an angry demonstration outside the Palace of Justice to protest archaic penal codes and an overloaded court system: too many cases for too few judges.
Problems and Protest
Some of Italy's problems are the pains of growth. Students rightly, and riotously, protest in the streets against crammed classrooms and inadequately prepared professors. The universities were adequate when only a small upper-class elite could afford a higher education, but nearly 500,000 young Italians are now enrolled and overcrowding is becoming explosive. Many priests oppose their bishops on the issue of contraception, partly because the newly urbanized faithful can scarcely afford the large families that were an asset on the farm. As more and more women take jobs, they increasingly demand equal rights, including repeal of the old law that prescribes prison for adulterous women but not men.
Il Boom itself is a target of protest, both because it is there and because there is not more of it. Italian Novelist Alberto Moravia echoes U.S. Economist John Kenneth Galbraith when he complains about the affluent society: "The priority given here to goods compared with that given to social and cultural needs shows the degree of our corruption. Italian industry thinks only of the expansion of consumption. And it is not with culture, but with money, that one buys." Many of the critics, particularly the protesting student extremists, take their prosperity for granted and never knew the general privation of times past. Gianni Agnelli has a keen understanding of the social dissent. "The people of the older generation compare the life that they had with the life of the young today and see how much better off they are," says he. "From that grows the gap in understanding. But the young are saying that we could have it better, and this is certainly true."
As a young man, Agnelli could hardly have had it any better. His family has long flourished in Italy's subAlpine Piedmont, a region noted for its soldiers and industry. Grandfather Giovanni Agnelli gave up a military career in 1899 and founded, with partners, Fabbrica Italiana Automobili Torino.* After some early hard times, Giovanni took personal control. Soon Fiat prospered on the strength of racing successes. It absorbed many early rivals and moved from artisan to assembly-line production, which enabled it to build 70% of the Italian Army's World War I trucks. The company went on to furnish Mussolini's military, and Il Duce rewarded it with the tariff protection and freedom from strikes that guaranteed its preeminence. In 1921, the year before Mussolini took power, Gianni Agnelli was born to a life of elegance and power--and, eventually, responsibility.
A Circuitous Route
Gianni--he was christened "Giovanni" but began early to use the shorter name to distinguish himself from his grandfather--followed a circuitous and somewhat star-crossed route to his inheritance. When he was only 14, his father was killed in a plane crash; ten years later, his half-American mother died in an auto accident. Gianni was raised largely by English governesses (he speaks impeccable English) and by his relentlessly entrepreneurial grandfather. He recalls that "we always wanted to know what was going on in Detroit"--and at 18 he was sent on a two-month auto tour of the U.S. Gianni saw World War II from both sides, first as a tank officer on the Russian front. After Italy withdrew from the war in 1943, he joined an Italian outfit that fought alongside General Mark Clark's Fifth Army.
Back from the wars, Gianni chose to follow some of his grandfather's advice: "Have a fling for a few years to get it out of your system." He had a full career in the gossip columns long before he reached the financial pages. In the postwar years, taking up with a fast new international society, he ran around with Aly Khan, Rubi Rubirosa and Spain's auto-racing Marquis de Portago. Gianni's crowd gathered in Paris, London and Buenos Aires, at the Palace in St. Moritz, at his own 28-room villa at Beaulieu on the Cote d'Azur.
Tire fast life decelerated sharply at 5 a.m. one day in 1952. Gianni was racing to Monte Carlo from a party in Cannes when his car skidded into a meat truck. He spent three months in a clinic in Florence. The accident left him with a stiff right leg--he still limps --but he denies any personal trauma besides distress that "I had not been able to let my friends know I would be late for lunch." Within a year, he settled down in Turin and, at 32, he married swan-necked Princess Marella Caracciolo di Castagneto. As Gianni's mother was, Marella is half-American; her own mother came from Peoria, Ill., and, on a trip to Italy, met and married Prince Filippo, Duke of Melito. Agnelli has played down the playboy image, but he still is occasionally the last man out of a nightclub. Recalling his earlier years, he says: "People had fun because they wanted to. Present-day playboys play for the public. Values today are of very bad quality. One may have had bad habits in the old days but never bad quality."
Agnelli went to work under Vittorio Valletta, a paternal technocrat who had been old Giovanni Agnelli's choice to rebuild Fiat after the war. With Mussolini gone, Valletta found an even better patron: the ordinary Italian consumer. In 1953, he brought out the tiny, tinny Fiat 500 model. Italy's first cheap mass-produced car, the 500 fit Valletta's prescription for something that could be made at the lowest possible cost, yet still be "a complete automobile." Italians dubbed it the "Mickey Mouse," and it proved to be for them what Ford's Tin Lizzie had been to Americans after World War I. At a price of less than $1,000, the car was an easy step up from the motor scooter; four passengers could squeeze into it--if they inhaled and exhaled in sync. The 500 is still Fiat's bestseller; it and a slightly larger version account for almost half of the cars sold in Italy over the past decade.
Such successes have made Fiat one of the few really big, privately owned Italian companies that do well in an unusual mixed economy where 20% to 25% of industry is held by government-controlled corporations. These corporations, which are concentrated in steel, transportation, construction and other basic industries, often have a privileged access to capital that leaves smaller private companies short of cash--an ill that has never befallen Fiat.
Almost alone among European car makers, Fiat has adopted Detroit's successful technique of expanding its model lines as its market grows more affluent. In 1964, Fiat introduced its 850, a mightier mouse but cheap enough (at $1,280) to sell well in that year's recession. Since then, largely at Gianni's urging, Fiat has followed Il Boom with medium-priced cars and then luxury models. In all, the company now builds 20 models, including its sporty 124, which is becoming Europe's Mustang, and the Fiat-Dino, a 120-m.p.h. job that costs $6,000. Unlike the earlier rather flimsy and underpowered Fiats, many of the new models get high marks from experts for looks, lively response and that fabled Italian feel for the road.
Agnelli had specialized in handling Fiat's finances, and he always knew that he would become chief executive when "circumstances made it available." The moment came when Valletta finally retired at 82 in early 1966. Valletta had groomed another technocrat for his job, but Vice Chairman Agnelli had other ideas. "I decided that I was the best person," he says, "and I took over."
The old guard at Fiat was not quite comfortable with the high-living heir. Early on, too, he suffered a setback. Alfa-Romeo, a rather small, state-owned company that specialized in costlier high-performance cars, made plans for building a southern Italian plant to mass produce medium-priced cars. Agnelli used all his prestige and persuasion to try to block government approval of the Alfa-Romeo expansion, but failed. By 1971, when Alfa-Romeo begins turning out 450,000 cars a year, Fiat will have the novel experience of facing real Italian competition in the medium-priced field ($1,400 to $1,700).
Despite that, Agnelli has shown that he knows how to run an auto company, although he concedes that "I haven't the slightest idea how to build a car." Unhappy about some deadwood that had piled up under Valletta, Agnelli imposed a U.S.-style rule of retirement at 65 and promoted much younger men. He has also radically decentralized management in the belief that "it doesn't do any good to sit on the heads of your executives." Fiat's managers bring him only major decisions, but on those, Agnelli is the ultimate authority. Under him, the company has greatly broadened its product line, introducing seven new models in the past two years, a feat even by U.S. standards. He is also increasing Fiat's international reach. Not only are more Fiats going to more markets, but the company has a construction subsidiary, Impresit, active in the Middle East, and recently joined with several partners, including Lazard Freres and Jersey Standard, in a $40 million syndicate that will invest in Asian industries.
A Certain Pulling Power
Beyond its employees and its 100,000 stockholders, Fiat means more to its country than General Motors means to the U.S., and Agnelli is careful to run it as a public trust. "In a country the size of Italy, a company the size of Fiat has a certain pulling power, which can reflect itself in certain things that are done in the country," he says. "You see it in your contacts with the trade unions and the government, in the way the newspaper you own thinks and writes, in the town in which you live."
In conservative Turin, where the old guard regards the Agnellis as arrivistes--they have had big money for only 70 years--Gianni does little entertaining. An evening at the Agnellis' 30-room palazzo in the center of town often means a movie in a screening room where 30 or 40 films are shown a year. Agnelli is casual about art, but he does "buy when I am tempted." His impressive display of sculpture, Gobelin tapestries, Picassos, Klees and Renoirs shows that he is tempted rather often. In August and September, the Agnellis move to Villar Perosa, 30 miles west of Turin, where they have a lemon and lime 45-room palazzo with a staff of 20. During the warm seasons, they often go snorkeling off the fast 95-footer GA-30 (for Gianni Agnelli--30 knots). All year round, Gianni travels ceaselessly. This week, in the first of half a dozen trips to the U.S. scheduled for 1969, he will go to Manhattan to speak on U.S.-European relations before the prestigious Economic Club of New York.
36 Hours in the Life
"I think we surely work too hard," Gianni Agnelli complains. "One should really be able to get home before 8:30 at night and stay away on Sundays and holidays." Agnelli rarely does, but he compensates for all the hard work by finding time for hard play. On one recent Sunday, for example, he started at 8 a.m. at the Turin headquarters, conferred on production schedules until 1 p.m. Then he had a light lunch with his wife and children, Edoardo, 14, and Margherita, 13, before boarding his Grumman Gulfstream jet for a business trip to Rome. That night he joined some princes, publishers and movie stars at a party, then moved on to a nightclub, and finally got to bed at 5 a.m.
He was up and dressed at 1 a.m. on Monday "to meet the government." In the next six hours, he had lengthy meetings--to discuss Italy's economic situation--with Central Banker Guido Carli, Treasury Minister Guido Colombo, President Giuseppe Petrilli, of the state-owned I.R.I, industrial complex, and President Giorgio Valerio, of the Montecatini-Edison company. Then came a brief nap, a fixture in his life that Agnelli will not give up "for anything or anybody." After that, back to Turin. He arrived at 5 p.m., in plenty of time to stop at the office and later to dress for an 8 p.m. dinner date at the palazzo with some Rumanians who had come to talk about buying tractors from Italy's leading capitalist.
What Makes Gianni Go
Great wealth furnishes Gianni Agnelli with no end of devices to cope with one restless compulsion. As he puts it: "I'm afraid of losing time. I want to get everything done and have everything in its place." In the time it takes for a fairly long lunch, he often speeds by private helicopter from his Turin office to the Alps for a few midday ski runs. On skis he performs almost like an Alpine Nureyev, despite a stiff brace that he must wear on his right leg. His $50,000 Ferrari can go 180 m.p.h., and Agnelli likes to push it hard. His lame leg propped up on the seat or the dashboard, he flicks his left foot among clutch, brake and accelerator.
This acute sense of hurry is really what makes Gianni go. The Citroen takeover reflects his conviction that time is running out for many of Europe's 20 auto manufacturers, who among them produce just about as many cars as the U.S.'s Big Three. He figures that, before long, mergers and corporate failures will leave only half a dozen huge, concentrated companies to share the European market--the U.S. three, one British company and one or two others. Fiat, of course, will survive.
Time is also running out, Agnelli believes, for Italy's old ways of doing things. He agrees with many other political observers that the center-left government coalition must prove within the next four years, before the elections of 1973, that it can meet the demands for expansion of schools, housing and hospitals, and for reforms in the bureaucracy, the courts and other institutions. "The institutions are being challenged, and rightly so," he says. "We'll have to spend more on our public institutions, even if it means overheating the economy and even if our national income doesn't justify the expenditures."
If the government fails to meet the needs, he fears that voters may turn to the extreme left or right. Italian industry has had a renaissance because competition has forced it to look outward and adopt imaginative methods--and Agnelli believes that there is a lesson here for the government. "The trouble is that we compete with Detroit," he says, "but Rome doesn't have to compete with Washington." Industry has finally given Italy a modern economy. Now the job is to make the state and society fully modern too.
* Fiat appeared well after Germany's pioneering Daimler-Benz (1885) and other firms, but four years before Ford.
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