Slated for launch this April, the zone would mark out a largely non-residential area within which sex workers could solicit publicly, albeit under official supervision. It was always likely to prove controversial, but even at blueprint stage, the plan has ignited a firestorm of commentary in the Italian media. “Red Light Zone: Oasis or Ghetto?” asked La Stampa. “Transvestites and Prostitutes: We Must Protect the Family” shouted Rai News’ headline, setting Italy up for a major debate about sex work and public order.

On first glance, the battle lines being drawn are simple.1 For the plan’s proponents, it’s a way of fighting pimping and trafficking and reducing public nuisance. For its more prominent detractors—including the Vatican—the plan breaks Italian law and provides legitimacy and protected space for exploitation.

Look more closely at the backstory, however, and a more complex picture develops.

• 1. The EUR district was originally planned under Mussolini as the grounds for a world exhibition that never happened (EUR stands for “Esposizione Universale Roma”). Following World War II it remained (as this photo shows) a largely empty plot only partly covered with clunky, fascist-era buildings, most of which remain. From the mid 1950s, EUR filled up with large modern office buildings, its grid becoming a form of CBD on Rome’s southern edge. In a city that has an embarrassment of beautiful old buildings, EUR developed an unusual specialty—high spec modern apartments—that transformed it into one of Rome’s more upscale places to live.

  The rot set in about a decade ago, around the time that Renzo Piano was commissioned to design a new master plan for the area. As part of the plan EUR was carpet-bombed with major building projects. Many of these new projects ended up failing, victims of unrealistic expectations and slackening post-slump demand. Renzo Piano’s own conversion of the former ministry of finance remains unfinished, while LunEur, Rome’s old amusement park, remains derelict despite grand proposals being floated for its future. Worst of all is the fiasco of the New Congress Center, commonly called the Cloud due to its nebulous central pod. Still unfinished after its initial budget has more than doubled to €413 million, the Cloud has pushed the state company managing the area’s development (EUR Spa) towards bankruptcy.  

  Many people continue to live and work in the area, but it’s increasingly looking the worse for wear. In fact just this week EUR hosted another major scandal—EUR Spa has been considering selling off the area’s fascist era buildings (which turned out to be illegal) to fill the black hole in their finances.