Palazzo della Civiltà Italiana

Stand still for a moment and listen. Out here in the south of Rome, the traffic noise thins and the wind moves across wide, open pavement. In front of you, a white block rises from a raised base, and its arches repeat row after row. The pale stone is travertine, the same limestone the ancient Romans used. In strong sun it almost glows. Under cloud it turns a soft grey, and the arches look like rows of empty windows.

This is the Palazzo della Civiltà Italiana, the Palace of Italian Civilisation. Romans have another name for it, though. They call it the Colosseo Quadrato, the Square Colosseum. The nickname fits. The building takes the old idea of the ancient arena, with its stacked arches, and presses it into a perfect, flat-sided box. It is a strange mix. It looks ancient and modern at the same time, and that mix was the whole point.

To understand why it is here, you need to know about a world's fair that never happened. In the late 1930s, Mussolini's government planned a great international exhibition for 1942. It would mark twenty years of Fascist rule. The project was called E42, and a whole new district was laid out for it on open land between the city and the sea. Today that district carries the initials EUR, from Esposizione Universale di Roma, the Universal Exhibition of Rome.

This palace was meant to be the showpiece of the fair. Three architects shared the design: Giovanni Guerrini, Ernesto Bruno La Padula, and Mario Romano. Construction began in the late 1930s. The building was inaugurated in 1940, while it was still unfinished. Then the war came. Italy entered the conflict, work slowed and then stopped, and the exhibition was cancelled. The great fair of 1942 never opened its gates. The palace was only completed after the war.

Now look closely at the arches. Count along one row, and then count the rows. Each face of the building has nine arches across and six rows high. That makes fifty-four arches on each side. Here is the surprise that many visitors miss. According to a popular story, the numbers were chosen on purpose. Benito has six letters, and Mussolini has nine. Locals love this tale, but no document proves it, so treat it as legend.

Lift your eyes to the very top of the building. A long line of carved capital letters runs along the stone on every side. The words are in Italian, and they describe the Italians as a people of poets, artists, heroes, saints, thinkers, scientists, navigators, and migrants. The phrase comes from a speech Mussolini gave in 1935, when Italy invaded Ethiopia. So these proud words are tied to a war of conquest in Africa.

Now bring your eyes down to the ground floor. Under the lowest row of arches stands a line of marble statues. Each figure represents a field of human work or a virtue, such as the arts, the sciences, or crafts and trades. Walk along the base and look at their faces and the objects in their hands. The style is calm and heroic, with smooth bodies and strong poses. This was the official art of the regime: classical forms used to present an image of national greatness.

At the four corners of the great staircase, you will see large sculpture groups of men with horses. They show the Dioscuri, the twin brothers Castor and Pollux from Greek and Roman myth. In ancient Rome they were seen as protectors of the city, and their statues still stand on the Capitoline Hill in the old centre. Placing them here was a clear message. This new district was presented as the heir of the ancient capital.

It is worth stepping back to think about the design itself. The palace belongs to a style called Rationalism, an Italian branch of modern architecture that loved clean geometry and repetition. There is almost no decoration on the façade. There are only the arches, the stone, and the shadows between them. At first it can feel empty or cold. Many painters and filmmakers found it dreamlike, and you can see why. It looks like the set of a dream.

Film directors have used this building many times. Its long shadows and silent arches suit stories about power, the future, or a world that feels slightly unreal. Fashion photographers love it for the same reasons. A person standing in a single arch becomes a small figure in a huge, ordered frame. If you stay here for a while, you will probably see someone doing a photo shoot on the steps.

For decades after the war, the palace stood mostly empty. It was a hard building to love and a hard building to use. Then, in the mid-2010s, the Roman fashion house Fendi took it over as its headquarters. The company restored the stone and brought offices back inside. The ground floor sometimes hosts exhibitions that are open to the public. A building made for propaganda now sells luxury, and many Romans find that change interesting in itself.

When you leave, take a slow look at the rest of the EUR district. The streets are wide and straight. The buildings are large and pale, with many columns and a lot of open space. Many of them were also designed for the cancelled fair. After the war, the area grew into a district of offices, museums, and homes. It is a quiet, very different Rome, far from the narrow lanes and old churches of the historic centre.

Before you go, look once more at the arches in front of you. Notice how the light moves through them. On one side the openings are bright, and on the other they fall into deep shade. The building was made to show power and confidence for a fair that never opened. Today it simply stands here in the wind, white and silent. As you walk away, turn around once and watch it shrink into a small, perfect square.