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The Escalation of the 'Clothes Hanger Wars': Organized Crime and Exploitation in Italy's Fast Fashion Industry

From a Double Homicide in Rome to a Shadow Economy in Prato,

The Escalation of the 'Clothes Hanger Wars': Organized Crime and Exploitation in Italy's Fast Fashion Industry
Ekhbary Editor
6 days ago
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Italy - Ekhbary News Agency

The Escalation of the 'Clothes Hanger Wars': Organized Crime and Exploitation in Italy's Fast Fashion Industry

A brutal double homicide in the Pigneto neighborhood of Rome has thrust the shadowy world of organized crime within Italy's Chinese communities into the stark glare of international attention. The cold-blooded assassination of Zhang Dayong, 53, and Gong Xiaoqing, 38, on a late April evening, marked by at least six gunshots fired at close range, is now understood to be the violent apex of a protracted and escalating conflict. While investigators initially grappled with the motive, the prevailing theory points towards the involvement of the "mafia cinese," a term increasingly used to describe powerful criminal syndicates operating within the overseas Chinese diaspora, rather than the traditional Italian mafias like Cosa Nostra, Camorra, or 'Ndrangheta.

This violent eruption in the Italian capital is not an isolated incident but the culmination of years of simmering tensions, manifesting in physical assaults, arson attacks, and extortion rackets that have plagued Chinese communities across Europe. The conflict has intensified significantly since early 2024, with its origins tracing back not to the bustling streets of Rome, but to the historically significant textile hub of Prato in Tuscany.

Prato, a city of nearly 200,000 inhabitants, boasts a rich industrial heritage dating back to the 19th century, particularly in textiles. However, the advent of globalization in the late 1990s plunged the city into an economic crisis. This downturn created a vacuum that was rapidly filled by thousands of immigrants from China, primarily from the entrepreneurial city of Wenzhou in Zhejiang province. These Wenzhounese migrants, known for their resilience and ambition, revitalized Prato's ailing economy. They transformed vacant factories into centers for the production of fast fashion – rapidly manufactured, low-cost clothing marketed as "Made in Italy." Today, Prato stands as Europe's largest fast fashion production center, generating an estimated 2 billion euros annually from exports alone, with the majority of its fashion companies now under Chinese ownership.

Luca Tescaroli, the chief public prosecutor of Prato, a seasoned jurist with over a year in his current role, has become intimately acquainted with the escalating crisis. His tenure has been marked by an unprecedented surge in criminal activity, far exceeding the experiences of many of his colleagues over entire careers. The conflict, he explains, exploded within his jurisdiction shortly after he assumed office.

The scale of the Chinese presence in Prato is substantial, with an estimated 32,000 residents, and likely more. These individuals have become an indispensable part of the city's economic fabric. However, beneath the veneer of economic success, a dangerous undercurrent of criminal enterprise has taken root, leading to what is now being colloquially termed the "war of the clothes hangers." This moniker stems from the intense price wars and violent disputes over the logistics of transporting materials and, crucially, the manufacturing of essential items like clothes hangers – a seemingly mundane component of the fashion supply chain that has become a focal point of brutal competition.

"Within the Chinese community, a conflict between rival criminal entrepreneurs erupted in June 2024, including murders, attempted murders, arson and extortion," Prosecutor Tescaroli stated. "The war started in Prato, but has now reached a national and even international dimension." The chilling implications of this statement are underscored by the Rome murders, as one of the victims, Zhang Dayong, had resided in Prato until recently. He is widely believed to have been the right-hand man of Zhang Naizhong, a figure described in the Italian media as the "boss of all bosses" of the Chinese underworld. Zhang Naizhong himself was arrested in 2018 on suspicion of heading a mafia-like organization implicated in extortion, usury, and drug trafficking, with operations extending across Italy, France, and Germany, and a significant grip on the logistics surrounding Prato's fashion industry.

Despite the conclusion of investigations years ago, the main trial against Zhang Naizhong, who has since been released, and 57 other defendants has yet to commence. In the interim, the alleged kingpin and his associates have become targets themselves. The months preceding the Rome assassinations witnessed a spate of violent incidents, including arson attacks predominantly targeting logistics companies, many of which are linked to Zhang. These attacks were concentrated in Tuscany, with incidents such as the remote detonation of incendiary devices at three logistics firms in Prato and two neighboring municipalities in February, one of which was connected to Zhang's son. Similar fires were reported near Paris and Madrid shortly thereafter. La Repubblica, an Italian daily, has documented at least 15 such violent incidents in and around Prato since June 2024.

Prosecutor Tescaroli elaborates on the core of the conflict: "The conflict centers on price wars in the transport of materials and in the manufacture of clothes hangers." He highlights the clandestine nature of much of this business, stating, "There is an illegal business system in Prato that operates in parallel to legal ones." This shadow economy thrives on circumventing regulations and exploiting labor, driven by the relentless pursuit of profit inherent in the fast fashion model.

Penetrating this opaque underworld has proven a formidable challenge for authorities. The language barrier alone presents a significant hurdle, with investigators identifying at least six different Chinese dialects spoken in tapped phone conversations related to the Zhang investigation. Tescaroli describes a "wall of omertà," a code of silence akin to that observed in the Italian mafia, shrouding the Chinese criminal elements in Prato.

However, a breakthrough has been achieved. The prosecutor's office managed to breach this wall of silence, partly through a strategic communication approach that included detailed press releases, effectively branding the conflict the "war of the clothes hangers" in local media. This strategy aimed to signal the authorities' presence and resolve to all involved parties, particularly the Chinese community. The initiative appears to have yielded results, with the first significant cooperation coming from entrepreneur Chang Meng Zhang, who reportedly produced clothes hangers at exceptionally low prices and narrowly survived a brutal knife attack in July 2024. "We have succeeded in breaking the silence. Now five entrepreneurs and 154 workers are cooperating with us," Tescaroli announced proudly. Even Zhang Naizhong's son reportedly contacted the prosecutor's office, indicating a potential shift in the dynamics.

The implications of these developments extend beyond criminal investigations; they threaten to reshape the city and its entire economic ecosystem. The Chinese community is central to Prato's economy, but their business practices, as revealed by the "clothes hanger war," often operate on questionable, if not outright illegal, foundations. Tescaroli speaks of a "parallel economic system" where profit maximization trumps legal adherence. This system allegedly utilizes tax loopholes to import raw materials duty-free from China via Eastern Europe, channels multi-million euro profits back to China through illicit banking and cryptocurrency platforms, and relies heavily on rampant illegal labor.

The human cost of this relentless pursuit of profit is starkly illustrated by the plight of workers like Attique Muhammad. The 30-year-old Pakistani speaks of the profound shame he feels, a burden heavier than the grueling 14-hour workdays, seven days a week, with minimal breaks. He endures the biting cold of winter, working in a jacket before his sewing machine, but the deepest pain stems from his inability to support his parents and wife back in Pakistan. "They say I should just find a new job. But first I need money for a new room," he laments, his voice heavy with sadness.

Muhammad, a former garment worker, recounts his experience in a red-brick factory hall, the air thick with dust, illuminated by harsh neon lights. He claims he hasn't received wages for over two months. For the past four weeks, he and other employees have occupied the factory after his Chinese employer abruptly vanished, just hours after a local health authority inspection. "He loaded the most valuable machines into a van and drove off," Muhammad stated, describing a common tactic known as "apri e chiudi" (open and close). This modus operandi involves companies shutting down to evade penalties or tax debts, only to reappear under a new name with a front man.

While Chinese entrepreneurs historically employed predominantly compatriots, the landscape has shifted to include a significant number of low-wage workers from South Asia. Muhammad, who has been sewing since the age of 15, working in Pakistan, Turkey, and briefly in Germany, found himself in Prato after his asylum application was rejected in Bavaria. "Germany is beautiful," he reminisced, recalling his preference for the cooler climate. Prato represented his Plan B, a place where he hoped to earn a steady income to support his family and build a future. His monthly earnings of around 1,600 euros were supplemented by accommodation arranged by his "capo" (boss) – a shared apartment with a dozen other men. However, upon the boss's disappearance, essential services like heating and electricity were cut off.

In July, Muhammad and his fellow workers decided they had endured enough. They have launched strikes, demonstrations, and factory occupations to protest their exploitation. Their struggle has found an unexpected but crucial ally in a group of young Italians from the region. Arturo Gambassi, a 22-year-old history student and member of the Sudd Cobas union, embodies this solidarity. He has spent nights in the factory hall with the workers, sleeping on mattresses laid out on the floor. The union's banner, prominently displayed, proclaims: "There is power in the union." "It's absurd that such conditions exist only 20 minutes from a world-famous tourist destination like Florence," Gambassi remarked, highlighting the stark contrast between Prato's industrial exploitation and the allure of nearby Florence.

This collaboration between exploited workers and young activists has begun to yield tangible results. Approximately 20 young adults and teenagers in Prato have successfully mobilized some of the exploited workforce, leading to dozens of workers securing regular employment contracts as a direct consequence of the strikes. The "war of the clothes hangers" is more than just a dispute over manufacturing components; it is a symptom of a deeply embedded system of exploitation within the fast fashion industry, where the relentless demand for cheaper goods fuels criminal enterprises and leaves vulnerable workers paying the ultimate price.