The Dark Age: the Sparse Jewish Presence in Milan Over the First Eighteen Centuries
Milan is a city without an old ghetto where Jews lived confined within walls or an ancient synagogue hidden on the upper floors of what was once the home of an influential family. This makes Milan unique in the landscape of Italian Jewry, which includes dozens of cities that still bear significant traces of ancient Jewish presence.
None of this exists in Milan for the simple reason that, at least until the arrival of Napoleon’s troops in the early 1800s, the city never had a real Jewish community. Fierce antisemitism at times, along with numerous restrictions, kept Jews out of the city for over fifteen centuries. Yet, Mediolanum, long a major commercial and financial center in northern Italy, would naturally attract Jews who were continuously seeking “safe” places to live according to their traditions and to practice the professions in which they excelled due to their education: commerce, finance, and medicine. This city—once the capital of the Western Roman Empire, then a free municipality, and later one of the most influential duchies—would certainly have been a highly desirable residence for many Jews who lived in small villages or important cities across the Po Valley, such as Mantua, Vercelli, Novara, Casale Monferrato, Brescia, Ostiano, Bozzolo, Busseto, Cortemaggiore, and Fiorenzuola d’Adda.
Initially, Saint Ambrose, followed by Bernardino de Bustis, Ludovico il Moro, and Saint Charles, kept the Jews at bay. Under the Sforza family, a few Jewish families were invited to the city to help finance the Duchy’s economic activities. However, their stay was always brief and limited. The arrival of the Spanish in the 1500s led to the complete and final expulsion of Jews from Milan, and they did not return until the beginning of the 19th century.
The Age of Tolerance and the Arrival of Jews in Milan
The situation began to change only at the end of the 18th century, with the enlightened absolutism of the Habsburgs and especially the arrival of Napoleon’s armies. Nevertheless, it would take several more years for Jews to arrive in significant numbers in Milan from Piedmont, Veneto, Friuli, the central Italian duchies, and especially from Mantua and various towns in the Po Valley, as well as from small villages in the Austro-Hungarian Empire and Germany. Milan was becoming increasingly tolerant and economically attractive compared to other Italian and European regions, where the Restoration had again worsened conditions for Jews, and economic development appeared less dynamic. Thus, within a few decades, a particularly educated, wealthy, and geographically and culturally diverse Jewish community formed in Milan. The first Jews in Milan came from over sixty Italian and an equal number of foreign localities.
The Birth of the Jewish Community of Milan
It would take more than fifty years for the Jewish community in Milan to begin forming a distinct, autonomous structure with a functioning synagogue or even a commonly recognized rabbi.[1] For a long time, Mantua remained the administrative and spiritual reference point for Milan’s Jews. In fact, the first Jewish consortium in Milan was established in 1855. However, only in 1866 did Milanese Jews, led by the city’s first rabbi, Prospero Moisè Ariani, formally separate from Mantua and establish their own religious and administrative life. The consortium did not assume the legal status of an “Israelite University” under the Rattazzi law, instead emphasizing its nature as a voluntary association. This structure, never joined by more than 10% of the Jewish population, failed to unite Milan’s Jews or develop extensive social services. The lack of an established tradition, the diversity of newcomers, the lingering fears of expressing their faith, and the growing secularism of many Jews in Milan explain these delays.
The Risorgimento and the Golden Half-Century of Italian Jewry
The Milanese Jewish contribution to the Risorgimento and the economic and cultural development of the city was, on the other hand, truly remarkable, especially given their small numbers. One name above all can summarize this contribution: Enrico Guastalla—a Mazzinian republican, Garibaldian fighter, fervent patriot, astute politician, and banker, as well as a committed Jew.
This does not mean the process of integration/assimilation was swift or easy. For a long time, Milanese Jews maintained socio-economic behavior centered around strong group ties with their fellow Jews, often from their place of origin. Frequently, especially initially, they continued to practice the professions they had previously pursued, with a strong prevalence of self-employment, particularly in commerce and financial brokerage. Marriages were often endogamous, both religiously and economically, though not necessarily geographically.
In addition to the founding of substantial family-run private banks, such as Banca Zaccaria-Pisa and the Weill-Schott Sons’ bank, we should not overlook the Jewish contribution to the founding and management of Banca Popolare di Milano, led and chaired by Luigi Luzzati, and especially Banca Commerciale Italiana, where the vast majority of capital came from banks owned by Jews of German, Austrian, and Swiss origin, with three of the first four administrators being Jewish. Additionally, the publishing activity of the Treves brothers and Virginia Tedeschi became prominent within a few years, helping to discover and promote writers such as Giovanni Verga, Gabriele D’Annunzio, Grazia Deledda, Luigi Pirandello, and Edmondo De Amicis.
The high level of education and strongly middle-class nature of Milanese Jewry went hand in hand with significant progressive tendencies and a strong commitment to civic and philanthropic causes. Examples of this include the Asilo Mariuccia founded by Nina Sullam, and especially La Società Umanitaria, strongly desired and funded by Prospero Moisè Loria and later led by figures such as Luigi Della Torre and Augusto Osimo, all progressive Jews.
While Milanese Jews, or rather, Jews who arrived in Milan, made substantial contributions to civil society in the economic, political, and cultural spheres, their contribution to Jewish thought and the development of its philosophical-religious ideas was more modest. Milan never established a rabbinical school; Jewish cultural associations were often overshadowed by those in other Italian cities, and no significant Jewish publication was founded in Milan until the early 20th century—and even then, they were modest. Far more active in these respects were the Jewish communities of Livorno, Padua, Trieste, Florence, and later Rome.
The construction of the new, elegant synagogue in Via Guastalla in 1892, replacing the small temple in Via Stampa, along with the work of the new rabbi, Alessandro Da Fano, were indeed turning points for Milan’s Jewish life. Da Fano, in particular, managed to blend modernity with Jewish tradition, establishing a productive dialogue with the Catholic world, especially with Pope Pius XI, with whom he gained a strong rapport.
The magnificent Jewish wing of the Monumental Cemetery in Milan is a remarkable testament to the Jewish contribution to the city but also reflects the significant shift away from orthodoxy among many influential members. This is evident in the presence of mausoleums, monumental tombs, and columbariums, where Jewish symbols mix with those of Catholic and secular culture of the time.
The Rise of Zionism
A true awareness of Jewish identity in Milan, and indeed Italian Jewry as a whole, would only emerge in the early 20th century with the advent of Zionism and especially with the rise of Fascism. For a long time, Zionist movements in Milan had limited support, given the strong attachment of Jews to the values of the Risorgimento and, more broadly, to a state that had granted them freedom and prosperity. In this arena as well, Milan lagged behind other centers of Italian and international Zionism. Significant exceptions were Revisionist Zionism and the Italian Jewish Women’s Association (ADEI), which, despite having an international foundation, found their Italian stronghold in Milan. This marked the first time that a large group of Jewish bourgeois women, already involved in philanthropic work, began systematically and actively engaging in Jewish affairs, Judaism, and Zionism in a challenging political climate.
Milan’s Jews Under Fascism
It was Fascism, however, that forced a radical shift for Italian Jews, including those in Milan. Many Jews’ strong sense of patriotism, combined with their social class, led a number of them to support early Fascism. In 1930, the so-called “Falco law” on “Israelite Communities and the Union of Communities” was enthusiastically received by Italian Jews, as it required Jews to become members of their local Community and contribute financially, unless they explicitly opted out. For the first time, these organizations were given specific duties and a well-defined structure, which still largely exists today.
In Milan, industrialist Federico Jarach, a prominent figure and co-founder of the National Fascist Confederation of Italian Industry, immediately took the helm of the new Jewish Community of Milan, leading it with resolve through increasingly difficult circumstances. He also served as president of the Union of Italian Jewish Communities from 1937 to 1939, a time of particular division among Italian Jewry—between Fascists and anti-Fascists, Zionists and anti-Zionists, secular and orthodox Jews. The lives and salons of two Jewish women who had settled in Milan, Margherita Sarfatti, Mussolini’s biographer and lover, and Anna Kuliscioff, Filippo Turati’s companion, illustrate these complexities.
Between 1933 and 1938, Milan became, once again, a fragile refuge for hundreds of Jews fleeing Nazi Germany and Austria following the Anschluss. Many arrived destitute and found assistance through organizations like Comasebit and later Delasem, as well as various individual initiatives, such as La Mensa dei Bambini (Children’s Canteen).
The racial laws left Italian Jews, some of whom were Fascists, in shock, but also united them. In Milan, within a few weeks, Federico Jarach and Gustavo Castelbolognesi, the new rabbi, established the special section of the school in Via Spiga and the Jewish school in Via Eupili. The latter, under the inspired leadership of Yoseph Colombo, aimed to become not merely a school for Jewish children expelled from public schools but a true Jewish institution where, alongside standard subjects, students also learned Hebrew language and culture—a place where dozens of suddenly unemployed teachers and hundreds of frightened children could regain, if not pride in their Jewish identity and hope for the future, at least some sense of peace and an understanding of their history.
The Guastalla Synagogue, partially destroyed by bombs, the Regina Hotel in Via Silvio Pellico (headquarters of the SS), the “German wing” of San Vittore prison, and Platform 21 at the Central Station became some of the last stops for Milan’s Jews who could not escape abroad or within Italy. These were the locations where they were captured, detained, and deported during the years of the Salò Republic and Nazi occupation. From the Central Station alone, between December 1943 and January 1945, fifteen freight trains carried over 1,200 Jews to Auschwitz-Birkenau, Bergen-Belsen, or to Italian transit camps in Fossoli and Bolzano.
Also significant was the Jewish contribution to Milanese socialism and the Resistance. Figures such as Eugenio Colorni and Eugenio Curiel, both tragically killed just weeks before liberation, should be remembered, as should Leo Valiani/Weiczen, anti-Fascist, partisan, and member of the Committee for the Liberation of Northern Italy. Finally, there were the jeeps with the Star of David of the Jewish Brigade that drove through the center of a war-torn, but liberated, Milan.
The Revival of the Community and Post-War Challenges
The revival of the Jewish Community in Milan began in May 1945 at Via Unione 5. Thousands of refugees, known as Displaced Persons, passed through this building; most had come clandestinely from concentration camps or Eastern European countries. There, as Primo Levi recalled, they found “a more familiar atmosphere” and a better existence. Under the direction of Raffaele Cantoni, a small hospital, a temple, a dining hall, and especially a dormitory were established. This place, remembered by many, was home to thirteen Jewish organizations, including UNRRA, the Joint, ADEI-WIZO, ORT, and others.
The reconstruction of the Community is also inseparably linked to the figures of Carlo Schapira, Sally Mayer, and his son Astorre. Schapira, an extraordinary Romanian-born, multilingual entrepreneur, had found success with the Bustese Cotton Mill. Mayer, who had come to Milan from a small German village, quickly built a paper production empire. As the first post-war elected president of the Community, he passionately managed refugee assistance, worked on rebuilding the Temple on Via Guastalla, revitalizing the school on Via Eupili, the retirement home on Via Jomelli, and other Community administrative and social facilities. After his untimely death, his son Astorre, a committed Zionist, took over the family business, served as honorary consul for the newly established State of Israel, and continued to provide important support to Milanese Jewry. His vision led to the creation of a new, “vast” Jewish school in Milan to meet the future demographic needs of the Jewish population in what was then a remote area between Via Lorenteggio and Piazza delle Bande Nere. Today, this neighborhood is home to thousands of Jewish families, several synagogues, and kosher shops and restaurants—a kind of mini-Brooklyn in Milan.
Between the mid-1940s and early 1950s, Milanese Jews had managed to gradually reduce the diversity that had historically characterized them, helped by the shared traumatic experiences of Fascism, World War II, the Nazi invasion, and the Shoah. From a demographic standpoint, the Jewish Community of Milan experienced rapid growth after the racial persecutions had nearly halved the number of Jews residing in the city—from 7-8,000 before the war to about 4,500 in 1948. Contributing to this growth was the fact that Milan had become an important destination for many Italian Jews who had fled Eastern Europe or survived the camps. Additionally, these hopeful years of economic boom saw a significant rise in birth rates, as in other Western economies.
The Arrival of Jews from the Middle East
The most significant contribution to this growth, however, came from Jews fleeing Arab countries after the proclamation of the State of Israel’s independence in 1948. Initially, Egyptian Jews, escaping the Suez Crisis of 1956, were the most numerous, followed by Jews from Lebanon, Syria, Morocco, and Iraq, with later arrivals from Iran and Libya. By 1975, Community membership neared 9,500, reaching an all-time high. Of these, less than a third were born in Milan; another third came from other Italian locations or European countries, while a remarkable 37% originated from North Africa and the Middle East. Once again, as in much of the 19th and early 20th centuries, the Jewish Community of Milan found itself welcoming thousands of people rich in traditions, values, and energy, but extremely diverse and facing significant integration challenges. In this case, the differences were even more pronounced, as Sephardic Jews joined Italian and Ashkenazi Jews, adding further cultural diversity. Synagogues, schools, and cultural centers multiplied, enriching service offerings but also complicating relationships among the various groups.
Once again, the cosmopolitan nature and high level of education of its members were strengths of the Jewish Community, traits that have marked the entire history of Milanese Jewry. In more recent years, however, Jewish participation in Italian political life has been somewhat lower than in previous decades, with notable exceptions related to the movements of 1968. This shift can be attributed to the tragic experience of Fascism, which diminished faith in the State, and the distance the newer arrivals felt from a culture steeped in civic engagement. Instead, efforts were focused on fields more inclined toward entrepreneurship, finance, the liberal professions, as well as culture, journalism, and entertainment.
The city’s international openness, along with Milan’s reputation not only as a hub of commerce and finance but also of publishing and entertainment, facilitated these careers. Milan has proven to be one of the most tolerant cities, or at least one of the places where Jews have felt relatively safer—though we should never forget that antisemitism is a chronic disease, difficult to eradicate.
The Anatomy of Milanese Judaism
Starting in the early 1980s, membership in the Jewish Community of Milan began to decline steadily, eventually falling to fewer than 6,000. This significant reduction was largely due to the decline in Jewish birth rates, a result of the low fertility rate typical of Italian society, and the lack of affiliation with Judaism among a substantial percentage of mixed marriages between Jews and non-Jews. The recent economic crisis also led many Milanese Jews to emigrate. This was particularly true for Jews of Persian descent or for many young people who chose to move to Israel, Northern Europe, or the United States—factors that contributed to an aging population within Milan’s Jewish community.
In recent years, there has been an increasing awareness of Jewish identity and a desire to participate in community life. For some, this rediscovery of Jewish culture has been a source of inspiration for professional success; for others, it has been a valuable complement. Often, this awareness has led many to actively participate in Community structures. The commitment to dialogue with the Catholic world and beyond, championed by rabbis like Giuseppe Laras, has also been a distinctive feature of Milanese Judaism.
The growing demand for Jewish culture has been met with a rich and varied offering: from the increased rigor of the official rabbinate to the fervent activism of the Lubavitch movement, the proud orthodoxy of the Persian and Syrian-Lebanese communities, and the engagement of Reform Jews. Thus, Jewish Milan today is often divided but still vibrant with cultural appeal, a resilience that neither economic crises nor demographic decline have been able to silence.
*[1] The term “Synagogue” derives from the Greek Sumagoghè, meaning “assembly,” which is itself a translation of the Hebrew term beth ha-kenesser, or “house of assembly.”
