Erschienen: 22. Jänner 1927 / Tiroler Anzeiger

Der heuer bevorstehende Bau zweier H ö h e n ­ s t r a ß e n, — die zur polit. Gemeinde Mühlau gehörige Hungerburgsiedlung zum Stadtteile zu ma­chen und die zur Innsbrucker Gemeinde gehörige Hungerburg mit den notwendigen Einrichtungen zu versehen — wird die Zeitforderungen der Gegenwart erfüllen helfen. Wenn der Bau dieser Straßen einmal restlos durchgeführt ist, dann wird das schöne Hochplateau der Hungerburg nicht nur eine sommerliche Erholungs­stätte, sondern auch in den langen Wintermonaten zu einer glücklichen Insel werden, die ihren Wert in den letzten Zeiten oft schon deutlich gezeigt hat. Denn die Erfahrungen der letzten Jahre haben offen­sichtlich erwiesen, daß diese sonnige Terrasse über der Stadt Innsbruck während des ganzen Winters reicher an Licht und freundlichen Tagen ist als viele Siedlungen des Inntales. Man hat im Vorjahre mit Hilfe der Stadtgemeinde Innsbruck und insbesondere durch das großartige Entgegenkommen des Herrn Bürgermeisters Dr. Schumacher die Hungerburgstraße wiederholt offenhalten können. Man hat es gesehen, daß dieser Weg auch in strengen Winterzeiten eine sichere Verbindung zwischen Stadt und Hochplateau herzustellen vermochte. Das Glück, die Hungerburg im Winter besuchen zu können, wird künftig durch die vorgesehenen Verbesserungen der Straße noch erleichtert werden. Infolgedessen drängt die Zeit, die Kirche und die Schule, sowie einen Kindergarten auf dem Hungerburgplateau zu errichten. Denn dieses Werk ist eine Notwendigkeit. Die Hungerburg wird nach Errichtung beider Höhenstraßen wohl bald denselben Umfang nehmen wie andere Terrassenanlagen ähnlicher großer Städte. Die Siedlung auf der Hungerburg bringt aber notgedrungen eine Kirche und eine Schule mit sich. In dieser Hinsicht muß betont werden, daß schon lange Vorarbeiten geleistet wurden und daß man darauf hoffen darf, daß in nicht gar ferner Zeit dieses Werk zur Ausführung gelangt. Denn selbst die vornehmste und reichste materielle Kultur könnte nicht ersetzen, was der katholischen Bevölkerung an kirchlicher und schulischer Versorgung zusteht. Eine hochw. geistliche Stelle hat bereits erklärt, daß sie mitarbeiten wolle, und daß sie die Hoffnung hege, daß die Arbeiten bald gefördert werden könnten. Es wird nun an der gesamten Innsbrucker Bevölkerung liegen, durch tatkräftige Mitarbeit dieses Werk zu unterstützen. Insbesondere die Jugend wird die Vorzüge einer eigenen Kirche und Schule auf der Hungerburg erfahren. Viele Familien, die dort wohnen, müssen in die Stadt hinabsteigen, um den Gottesdienst oder die Schule zu besuchen. Dies ist besonders im Winter mit großen Beschwer­den verbunden. Dieser Notstand muß behoben werden. Denn es ist Pflicht, den Bewohnern der Hungerburg die Vorteile und Bequemlichkeiten zu verschaffen, die eine moderne Zeit fordert.

In the 1950s, Innsbruck began to recover from the crisis and war years of the first half of the 20th century. On May 15, 1955, Chancellor Leopold Figl officially declared a political turning point with his famous words, "*Austria is free*," and the signing of the Austrian State Treaty. During the years that went down in history as the *Wirtschaftswunder* (economic miracle), moderate prosperity established itself in many households. Between 1953 and 1962, an annual economic growth rate of over 6% allowed an increasing portion of the population to dream of exotic luxuries like refrigerators, a private bathroom, or even a vacation in the South. This era brought not only material but also social change. People's desires became more elaborate with rising prosperity and the lifestyle promoted in advertising and media. The phenomenon of a new youth culture began to take root amidst the somber postwar society of small-town Austria. Previously unknown terms like *teenager* and *latchkey kid* (*Schlüsselkind*) entered everyday vocabulary in the 1950s. In 1956, the magazine *BRAVO* launched. For the first time, a media outlet catered directly to the interests of young people. Marilyn Monroe was featured on the first cover, under the headline: "*Did Marilyn's curves get married too?*" The biggest stars of those early years were James Dean and Peter Kraus, before the Beatles took over in the 1960s. After the *Summer of Love*, the advice column "Dr. Sommer" began educating youth on love and sex. The church's all-powerful authority over the moral conduct of adolescents began to crumble, albeit slowly—the first photo love story featuring nudity did not follow until 1982. Up until the 1970s, opportunities for young people in Innsbruck were largely limited to traditional inns (*Wirtshausstuben*), the marksmanship club (*Schützenverein*), and brass bands (*Blasmusik*). Only gradually did bars, discos, nightclubs, pubs, and event venues begin to open. Events like the *5 Uhr Tanztee* (5 o'clock tea dance) at the Sporthotel Igls attracted young singles looking to socialize. *Café Central* became the "second home of long-haired youths," as the *Tiroler Tageszeitung* horrifiedly observed in 1972. Establishments such as the *Falknerkeller* on Gilmstraße, the *Uptown Jazzsalon* in Hötting, the Jazzclub in Hofgasse, the *Clima Club* in Saggen, the *Scotch Club* on Angerzellgasse, and the *Tangente* on Bruneckerstraße had nothing in common with the traditional tavern. The performances by The Rolling Stones and Deep Purple at the Olympiahalle in 1973 marked the temporary peak of Innsbruck's cultural awakening. While this did not turn Innsbruck into London or San Francisco, locals had at least caught a breath of rock 'n' roll. By contrast, what remains anchored in cultural memory as the 1968 revolution barely took place in the "*Heiliges Land*" (Holy Land of Tyrol). Neither workers nor students took to the barricades in large numbers. Though a few radical student groups eventually emerged to protest social injustice, the Vietnam War, and traditional gender roles, there was no comparison to the unrest seen in Prague, Paris, or the distant USA. The historian Fritz Keller famously described Austria's '68 movement as a mere "*Mailüfterl*" (gentle May breeze). Nevertheless, society was undergoing a quiet transformation. A look at the annual music charts offers a clue: While the top 10 in 1964 was still dominated by *Kaplan Alfred Flury* and *Freddy* with "Lass die kleinen Dinge" and "Gib mir dein Wort," alongside the Beatles with their German version of "Komm, gib mir deine Hand," musical tastes were shifting. Although Peter Alexander and Mireille Mathieu could still be found on the charts, from 1967 onward, international acts with foreign-language tracks—such as *The Rolling Stones, Tom Jones, The Monkees, Scott McKenzie, Adriano Celentano*, and *Simon & Garfunkel*—dominated the top spots with increasingly socially critical lyrics.

This change sparked a backlash. The spearhead of the conservative counter-revolution was the Bishop of Innsbruck, Paulus Rusch. Cigarettes, alcohol, overly revealing fashion, trips abroad, working women, nightclubs, premarital sex, the 40-hour workweek, Sunday sports events, dance nights, mixed-gender education and leisure—all of this was deeply abhorrent to the strict clergyman and devoted follower of the Sacred Heart of Jesus cult. Peter Paul Rusch was born in Munich in 1903 and grew up in Vorarlberg as the youngest of three children in an upper-middle-class household. Both of his parents and his older sister died of tuberculosis before he reached adulthood. Forced to fend for himself at the young age of 17 during the lean post-war years, inflation wiped out his father's inheritance—which was meant to finance his university studies—in no time. Rusch worked for six years at the Bank für Tirol und Vorarlberg to fund his theology degree. In 1927, he entered the Collegium Canisianum, and six years later, he was ordained as a priest of the Jesuit order. His meteoric career led the intelligent young man to serve as a chaplain in Lech am Arlberg and Hohenems. He then returned to Innsbruck as head of the partial seminary. In 1938, he became Titular Bishop of Lycopolis and Apostolic Administrator for Tyrol and Vorarlberg—two imaginative titles intended to replace the authority of the bishop in North Tyrol. As the youngest de facto bishop in Europe, he had to endure the harrassment of the National Socialist rulers against the Church. Although his critical stance on National Socialism was well known, Rusch himself was never imprisoned; the authorities feared turning the popular young bishop into a martyr. After the war, the socially and politically active bishop was at the forefront of the reconstruction effort. With hands-on dedication, he sought to strengthen the influence of the Church. His father had worked his way up from carpenter to architect, passing down a passion for construction. Added to this was Rusch's own experience in banking: thanks to his background in the private sector, he recognized the opportunities for the Church to step in and distinguish itself as a helper in times of need. Under Rusch's leadership, the Katholische Jugend (Catholic Youth) volunteered without pay to construct the Heiligjahrsiedlung (Holy Year Settlement) in Höttinger Au. The diocese purchased the plot of land from the Ursuline Order, and interest-free loans were advanced to the settlers by the Church. His pragmatic, hands-on approach to the housing shortage earned him the nickname the "Red Bishop." In these modest houses with self-sufficiency gardens—built according to the vision of the dogmatic and frugal "worker's bishop"—41 families, with preference given to those with many children, found a new home. Alleviating the housing shortage was meant to keep the greatest threats of the Cold War away from his congregation. Both the state-mandated atheism of communism and the consumer-driven capitalism spilling over from the US into Western Europe were anathema to him. In 1953, Rusch published his book "Junger Arbeiter, wohin?" ("Young Worker, Whither Bound?"). What sounded like revolutionary, left-wing literature was actually an exposition of Christian Social Teaching, which condemned both capitalism and socialism. Families were expected to live modestly, managing in Christian harmony on the moderate income of a single breadwinning father. Employers, employees, and laborers were to form a peaceful unit—cooperation instead of class struggle, laying the groundwork for today's social partnership. Everyone had their place in a Christian sense: a sort of modern feudal system, which had already been envisioned for implementation under Dollfuss's Austrofascist Corporate State (Ständestaat). He shared his political views with State Governor Eduard Wallnöfer and Mayor Alois Lugger, who together with the bishop formed the "Holy Trinity" of conservative Tyrol during the economic miracle era. To this, Rusch added a latent Catholic antisemitism that remained widespread in Tyrol even after 1945, enduring as a supposed tradition through aberrations like the veneration of Anderle von Rinn.

Besondere Anliegen waren dem streitbaren Jesuiten Erziehung und Bildung. Die gesellschaftliche Formung quer durch alle Klassen durch die Soldaten Christi konnte in Innsbruck auf eine lange Tradition zurückblicken. Der Jesuitenpater und vormalige Gefängnisseelsorger Alois Mathiowitz (1853 – 1922) gründete 1909 in Pradl den Peter-Mayr-Bund. His approach was to put young people on the right path through leisure activities and sport and adults from working-class backgrounds through lectures and popular education. The workers' youth centre in Reichenauerstraße, which was built under his aegis, still serves as a youth centre and kindergarten today. Rusch also had experience with young people. In 1936, he was elected regional field master of the scouts in Vorarlberg. Despite a speech impediment, he was a charismatic guy and extremely popular with his young colleagues and teenagers. In his opinion, only a sound education under the wing of the church according to the Christian model could save the salvation of young people. In order to give young people a perspective and steer them in an orderly direction with a home and family, the Youth building society savings strengthened. In the parishes, kindergartens, youth centres and educational institutions such as the House of encounter am Rennweg errichtet, um von Anfang an die Erziehung in kirchlicher Hand zu haben. Der allergrößte Teil des sozialen Lebens der Stadtjugend spielte sich nicht in verruchten Spelunken ab. Den meisten Jugendlichen fehlte schlicht und ergreifend das Geld, um regelmäßig in Lokalen zu verkehren. Viele fanden ihren Platz in den halbwegs geordneten Bahnen der katholischen Jugendorganisationen.

Hier ist die Übersetzung des letzten Teils: Rusch failed to foresee that the clergy itself was changing with the times. Alongside the conservative bishop, a generation of liberal clerics was emerging and immersing themselves in youth work. In the 1960s and 70s, two church youth movements wielded immense influence in Innsbruck. Responsible for this were Sigmund Kripp and Meinrad Schumacher, who won over teenagers and young adults through new pedagogical approaches and a more open handling of sensitive topics like sexuality and substances. In Innsbruck, the Marianische Kongregation (Marian Congregation)—known to this day as the MK—had been shaping the minds of the elite according to the principles of the Jesuit Order since 1578. This youth organization catered to high school students (Gymnasiasten). The MK was strictly hierarchical, designed to teach young "Soldiers of Christ" obedience from the outset. In 1959, Father Sigmund Kripp took over the leadership of the organization. Under his direction—and supported by financial contributions from the Church, the state, parents, and substantial volunteer labor—the youth built projects such as the Mittergrathütte along with its own material ropeway in Kühtai, as well as the legendary youth center Kennedyhaus on Sillgasse. Federal Chancellor Klaus and members of the US Embassy attended the cornerstone laying of this youth center—which would become the largest of its kind in Europe with nearly 1,500 members—as the building was dedicated to the first Catholic, recently assassinated President of the United States. Innsbruck's second church youth organization was Z6. City youth chaplain Father Meinrad Schumacher took care of all those young people who had no place in the MK or the Katholische Hochschülerschaft (Catholic Students' Association) through the Aktion 4-5-6. Working-class children and apprentices met in various youth centers in Pradl or Reichenau until a new center opened in 1971 at its namesake Zollerstraße 6, also built by the members themselves. Josef Windischer took over as director. Z6 had much more in common with what Denis Hopper and Peter Fonda displayed on movie screens riding their motorcycles in Easy Rider. Things were rougher here than in the MK. Rocker gangs, petty criminals, and drug addicts also spent their free time at Z6. While Schumacher ran his program with the "well-behaved" youth upstairs, Windischer populated the basement with the "outsiders" to support these lost sheep as best as possible. By the late 1960s, both the MK and Z6 decided to open their doors to non-members. Girls' and boys' groups were partially merged, and non-members were admitted. Although the two youth centers targeted different demographics, their overall concept was identical: theological knowledge and Christian morality were imparted in a playful, age-appropriate environment. Sections dedicated to chess, soccer, hockey, basketball, music, movies, and a party cellar addressed young people's desires for play, sports, and destigmatizing their first sexual experiences. The youth centers offered a space where adolescents of both genders could mingle. However, the MK in particular remained an institution that had little to do with the wild lifestyle of the 1968 movement as commonly portrayed in films. For instance, dance classes were not held during Advent, Carnival, or on Saturdays, and they remained forbidden fruit for anyone under 17. Nonetheless, the youth centers went too far for Bishop Rusch. The critical articles in the MK magazine Wir diskutieren ("We Discuss")—which reached a circulation of over 2,000 copies—increasingly met with his displeasure. Solidarity with Vietnam was one thing, but criticism of the Schützen (traditional Tyrolean marksmanship guilds) and the Austrian Armed Forces (Bundesheer) could not be tolerated. After years of disputes between the bishop and the youth center, the showdown arrived in 1973. When Father Kripp published his book Abschied von morgen ("Farewell to Tomorrow"), detailing his pedagogical concept and work in the MK, closed-door proceedings were launched against the head of the youth center within the diocese and the Jesuit Order. Despite massive protests from parents and members, Kripp was removed from his post. Neither inner-church intervention by the prominent theologian Karl Rahner, nor a petition initiated by artist Paul Flora, nor regional and national outrage in the press could save the overly liberal priest from the wrath of Rusch—who even secured the papal blessing from Rome for Kripp's dismissal. In July 1974, Z6 also came to a temporary end. Articles about the birth control pill and the Z6 newspaper's criticism of the Catholic Church were too much for the strict bishop. Rusch simply had the locks to the youth center changed—a method he had previously used against the Katholische Hochschülerschaft when it drifted too close to a left-wing activist group. On August 1, 1974, the Tiroler Tageszeitung noted in an article on the matter:

"In recent weeks, there had been profound disputes between the educators and the bishop over fundamental issues. According to the bishop, the views expressed in "Z 6" were "no longer in line with church teaching". For example, the leadership of the centre granted young people absolute freedom of conscience without simultaneously recognising objective norms and also permitted sexual relations before marriage."

It was his adherence to conservative values and his stubbornness that damaged Rusch's reputation during the last 20 years of his life. When he was consecrated as the first bishop of the newly founded Diocese of Innsbruck in 1964, times were changing. The progressive clergyman with practical life experience of the past was overtaken by the modern lifestyle of a new generation and the demands of an establishing consumer society. The bishop's constant criticism of his flock's lifestyle and his stubborn refusal to abandon his overly conservative values—paired with occasionally bizarre statements—transformed the young, hands-on bishop of the reconstruction era into a reason for many Tyroleans to leave the Catholic Church. His concept of repentance and penance produced surreal results. For instance, while he demanded admissions of guilt and atonement for transgressions during the Nazi era, he simultaneously criticized the denazification laws as too far-reaching and severe. Responding to changing sexual norms and the abortion law reforms under Chancellor Kreisky, he claimed that girls and young women who engaged in premature sexual relations were up to twelve times more likely to suffer from cancers of the reproductive organs. Rusch referred to Hamburg as a "den of sin" (Sündenbabel) and suggested that the simple minds of the Tyrolean population were ill-equipped to handle phenomena like tourism and nightlife, which lured them into immoral behavior. He feared that technology and progress would make people far too independent of God. He was adamantly opposed to the new trend of dual-income households: individuals were expected to be content with a modest "spiritual single-family home" complete with a vegetable garden rather than striving for more, while women were expected to dedicate themselves strictly to their traditional role as housewives and mothers.

In 1973, after 35 years at the head of the church community of Tyrol and Innsbruck, Bishop Rusch was named an honorary citizen of the City of Innsbruck. He resigned from his office in 1981. In 1986, Innsbruck's first bishop was laid to rest in St. James' Cathedral (Dom St. Jakob). The Bischof-Paulus-Studentenheim (Bishop Paulus Student Residence), located near the Petrus Canisius Church built under his leadership in Höttinger Au, serves as a reminder of his legacy. Following its closure in 1974, the Z6 youth center relocated to Andreas-Hofer-Straße 11 before finding its current home on Dreiheiligenstraße, right in the heart of the early modern working-class district opposite the Plague Church (Pestkirche). After his involvement in social projects in Brazil, Jussuf Windischer remained in Innsbruck. The father of four continued to work with marginalized social groups, served as a lecturer at the Social Academy, worked as a prison chaplain, and headed the Caritas Integration House in Innsbruck. The MK also continues to exist today, even though the Kennedyhaus—which was renamed Sigmund-Kripp-Haus by its members immediately following Kripp's departure—no longer exists. In 2005, Kripp was named an honorary citizen of the City of Innsbruck by his former sodalis and later vice mayor—just like Bishop Rusch before him.

The abundance of churches, chapels, crucifixes, statues, and paintings in public spaces strikes many visitors to Innsbruck from other countries as unusual. Not only places of worship, but also many private houses are decorated with depictions of Jesus, Mary, saints, and biblical scenes. For centuries, the Christian faith and its institutions shaped everyday life throughout Europe, and Innsbruck—as a residence city of the strictly Catholic Habsburgs and the capital of the self-proclaimed Holy Land of Tyrol—was particularly richly endowed with ecclesiastical buildings. In terms of number and scale relative to the conditions of earlier times, churches appear as gigantic features in the cityscape. In the 16th century, Innsbruck, with its approximately 5,000 inhabitants, possessed several churches whose splendor and size surpassed every other building, including the palaces of the aristocracy. Wilten Abbey was a vast complex in the midst of a small farming village that had developed around it.

The spatial dimensions of these places of worship reflect their importance within the political and social structure. For many inhabitants of Innsbruck, the Church was not only a moral authority but also a secular landowner. The Bishop of Brixen was formally equal in rank to the territorial prince. Peasants worked on the bishop’s estates just as they did on those of a secular ruler. The clergy exercised both taxation and judicial authority over their subjects, and ecclesiastical landowners were often regarded as particularly demanding. At the same time, it was also the clergy in Innsbruck who were largely responsible for social welfare, healthcare, care for the poor and orphans, food distribution, and education. The Church’s influence extended into the material world in a way comparable to how the modern state operates today through tax offices, police, schools, and employment services. What democracy, parliament, and the market economy represent for us today, bishops, the Bible, Christian devotional literature, and parish priests represented for people of earlier centuries: a reality that maintained order.

It would be incorrect to believe that all clergymen were cynical power-hungry figures who exploited their uneducated subjects. The majority of both clergy and nobility were devout and God-fearing, albeit in a manner that is difficult to comprehend from today’s perspective. It was not the case that every superstition was blindly accepted or that people were arbitrarily executed based on anonymous accusations. In the early modern period, violations of religion and morals were tried before secular courts and punished severely. Charges were brought under the term heresy, which encompassed a wide range of offenses. Sodomy—meaning any sexual act not serving reproduction—sorcery, witchcraft, and blasphemy, in short any deviation from the correct faith, could be punished by burning. The act of burning was intended both to purify the condemned and to destroy them and their sinful behavior completely, thereby removing evil from the community. For a long time, the Church regulated everyday social life down to the smallest details. Church bells structured people’s daily schedules. Their sound called people to work or worship, or informed the community of a death through tolling. People were able to distinguish individual bell signals and their meanings. Sundays and holidays structured time. Fasting days regulated diet. Family life, sexuality, and individual behavior were expected to conform to Church-prescribed morality. For many people, salvation in the afterlife was more important than happiness on earth, which was seen as predetermined by the course of time and divine will. Purgatory, the Last Judgment, and the torments of hell were real and served to frighten and discipline even adults.

While parts of Innsbruck’s bourgeoisie were at least gently awakened by the ideas of the Enlightenment after the Napoleonic Wars, the majority of the population remained deeply attached to a blend of conservative Catholicism and superstitious folk piety. Religiosity was not necessarily a question of background and social status, as the social, media, and political debates along the fault line between liberals and conservatives repeatedly demonstrated. Although the freedom of religious practice had been legally enshrined since the December Constitution (Dezemberverfassung) of 1867, state and religion remained closely intertwined. Thanks to the 1855 concordat between the Pope and the Emperor, marriage law and the school system were under the control of the Catholic Church. It was only under pressure from liberals in parliament that these bastions of everyday social life began to crumble, yet particularly in Tyrol, the pastor's word remained sacrosanct. In the First Republic, a conservative backlash occurred. Ignaz Seipel, a Christian Social politician who went down in history as the Iron Prelate (Eiserner Prälat), rose to the highest office of the state in the 1920s. Federal Chancellor Engelbert Dollfuß saw his Corporate State (Ständestaat)—a construct built on a Catholic foundation—as a bulwark against socialism. In 1933, the concordat with the Vatican was renewed. Even after World War II, church and politics in Tyrol formed a powerful double act in the persons of Bishop Rusch and Governor Wallnöfer. In 1957, the government of the Second Republic reconfirmed the agreement, which formally remains valid to this day. A genuine separation of church and state did not begin until the 1970s. Although people leaving the church in recent decades have dented official membership figures and recreational events draw larger crowds than Sunday masses, faith and the church still hold a fixed place in the daily lives of Innsbruck’s residents, even if often unnoticed. The Roman Catholic Church still owns a vast amount of land in and around Innsbruck, even beyond the walls of its monasteries and educational institutions. A number of schools in and around Innsbruck also remain under the influence of conservative forces and the church. And whoever enjoys a public holiday, cracks Easter eggs against one another, or lights a candle on a Christmas tree does not have to be a Christian to act in the name of Jesus—disguised as tradition.

Hardly any era is more difficult to grasp than the interwar period. The Roaring Twenties, jazz, and automobiles come to mind just as readily as inflation and economic crisis. In major cities like Berlin, young women carrying themselves as flappers with bobbed hair, cigarettes, and short skirts danced lasciviously to the new sounds. In Innsbruck, American drinks were served during Five O'Clock Tea at the bar in the Knights' Hall (Rittersaal) of the Cafe Gasthaus Zur Annasäule, which later became the Alt-Innsbruck. The suits of armor can still be admired in the bay window from Maria-Theresien-Straße. For the most part, however, as part of the young Republic of German-Austria, Innsbruck’s population belonged to the faction of poverty, economic crisis, and political polarization. Right from the start, the proclamation of the republic in front of the parliament in Vienna before more than 100,000 people—who were less enthusiastic than they were curious and unsettled—was anything but smooth, accompanied by riots, shootouts, two deaths, and 40 injuries. No one knew how things were supposed to continue after the end of the monarchy and the loss of a large part of the state territory. The new Austria seemed too small and incapable of surviving. The bureaucratic apparatus of the Austro-Hungarian Empire carried on seamlessly under a new flag and name. In the constitution, the federal states, as successors to the old crown lands, were granted a great deal of leeway in legislation and administration under the framework of federalism. However, enthusiasm for the new state among the population remained limited. Not only was the supply situation miserable after the loss of the vast majority of the former giant Habsburg empire, but people also distrusted the underlying concept of the republic. The monarchy had not been perfect, but very few people could relate to the idea of democracy. Instead of being subjects of the Emperor, people were now citizens, but only citizens of a dwarf state with an oversized capital that was little loved in the federal states, rather than citizens of a great empire. In the former crown lands, which were largely governed by the Christian Social Party, people frequently spoke of the "Viennese hydrocephalus" (Wiener Wasserkopf) that let itself be fed by the yields of the hardworking rural population. Other federal states also toyed with the idea of breaking away from the republic after the plan to join Germany, which was supported by all parties, was banned by the victorious powers of the First World War. The various Tyrolean plans, however, were particularly spectacular. From a neutral alpine state with other federal states, a free state consisting of Tyrol and Bavaria, or extending from Kufstein to Salurn, an annexation to Switzerland, all the way to a Catholic church-state under papal leadership, many options were considered. The most obvious solution was particularly popular. Feeling German was nothing new. So why not also attach oneself politically to the big brother to the north? This desire was highly pronounced, especially among urban elites and students. The annexation plan (Anschlussplan) received 98% approval in a vote in Tyrol, but it never came to fruition. In Innsbruck, the Tyrolean National Assembly (Tiroler Nationalversammlung) and the Tyrolean National Council (Tiroler Nationalrat)—a concentration government with members from all parties—constituted themselves in the autumn of 1918 from the members of the former provincial parliament (Landtag). The National Council had authority over the people's and citizens' militias (Volks- und Bürgerwehren), which had formed at the municipal level to maintain public order, at least on paper. Primarily between Innsbruck and the Brenner Pass, up to 50,000 soldiers were stationed at the railway stations, causing problems while waiting for their transport home.

Instead of becoming a part of Germany, Tyrol was occupied by the hated Wallsche (Italian forces). For nearly two years after the end of the war, Italian troops occupied Innsbruck. Following the complex and lengthy peace negotiations in Paris, it finally became a certainty: on October 10, 1920, the formal annexation of South Tyrol took place. At the Brenner Pass, the barrier gate went down. On the North Tyrolean side, only a few administrative and customs buildings were erected, but in the southern part of the village, large barracks shot out of the ground to secure the new border militarily. Historical Tyrol was split in two. In Innsbruck and many other Tyrolean municipalities, pompous mourning ceremonies were organized annually on this date for years. In 1924, the Innsbruck city council decided to name squares and streets around the main railway station after South Tyrolean cities. Bozner Platz as well as Brixner Straße and Salurner Straße still bear their names today. Many people on both sides of the Brenner felt betrayed. Although they had by no means won the war, they did not see themselves as losers to Italy. Hatred toward Italians reached its peak in the interwar period, even though the occupying forces acted with pronounced mildness. A passage from the 1930s short story collection "The Front Above the Peaks" (Die Front über den Gipfeln) by Karl Springenschmid reflects the general mood:

"The young girl says, 'Becoming Italian would be the worst thing.

Old Tappeiner just nods and grumbles: "I know it myself and we all know it: becoming a whale would be the worst thing."

Trouble was also brewing in domestic politics. The revolution in Russia and the subsequent civil war with millions of fatalities, expropriation, and a complete reversal of the system cast its long shadow all the way to Austria. The prospect of "Soviet conditions" terrified people. Austria was deeply divided. Capital and federal states, city and countryside, citizens, workers, and peasants—in the vacuum of the first postwar years, each group wanted to shape the future according to its own ideas. The cultural struggles of the late monarchy between conservatives, liberals, and socialists continued seamlessly. The rift existed not only on a political level. Morals, family, leisure activities, education, faith, legal understanding—every sphere of life was affected. Who should govern? How should wealth, rights, and duties be distributed? Liberals and the Tyrolean People's Party (Tiroler Volkspartei), which had emerged from the Peasants' League (Bauernbund), the People's Association (Volksverein), and the Catholic Working Class (Katholische Arbeiterschaft), were at least as hostile toward Social Democracy as they were toward the federal capital of Vienna and the Italian occupiers. A communist overthrow was not a real danger, especially in Tyrol, but it was effectively instrumentalized in the media as a threat to bring Social Democracy into disrepute. Although a workers', peasants', and soldiers' council (Arbeiter-, Bauern- und Soldatenrat) modeled on the Soviet system had proclaimed itself in Innsbruck in 1919, its influence remained minimal and it was supported by no political party. From 1920 onward, so-called soldiers' councils were officially formed, but like the rest of politics, they were dominated by the Christian Socials. The conservative peasant and bourgeois camp right of center militarized itself more professionally with the Tyrolean Homeland Guard (Tiroler Heimatwehr) and enjoyed a stronger influx of members than leftist groups, also thanks to church support. From church pulpits and in conservative media, Social Democracy was referred to as the "party of Jews" (Judenpartei) and homeless traitors to the fatherland. People were all too eager to blame them for the lost war and its consequences. The Tiroler Anzeiger summed up the public fears: "Woe to the Christian people if the Jew-Socialists win the elections!".

While the Tyrolean People's Party dominated in rural districts, Social Democracy in Innsbruck under the leadership of Martin Rapoldi always managed to win between 30% and 50% of the vote in elections from 1919 onward, despite the strong headwinds. Under the new municipal code of 1919, which provided for universal suffrage for all adults, the city council comprised 40 members. Out of 24,644 citizens called to the ballot box, an incredible 24,060 exercised their right to vote. A certain degree of emancipation also became noticeable. Right from the first city council with free elections, three women were represented. The fact that the Social Democrats did not secure the mayoral seat was due to the majorities in the city council formed by alliances among the other parties.

High politics, however, was merely the backdrop to the actual misery. Martin Rapoldi got straight to the point in September 1919: "Gentlemen, for the moment the constitutional question is completely secondary to the population, as is whether the province has more rights or fewer rights. More potatoes is the slogan in our province." Time and again, looting and hunger riots broke out in the provincial capital. Those who had money could supply themselves with food on the black market; the rest depended on charity from foreign aid shipments. Long after the war, the province of Tyrol still required outside help to feed its population. Under the headline "Significant Expansion of the American Child Relief Action in Tyrol," the Innsbrucker Nachrichten reported on April 9, 1921: "Taking into account the needs of the province of Tyrol, the American representatives for Austria have most generously increased the daily number of meals to 18,000 portions." Alongside hunger, medical care was a major issue. The epidemic that went down in history as the Spanish Flu also took its toll in Innsbruck in the years after the war. Exact numbers were not recorded; worldwide, the number of fatalities is estimated at 27 to 50 million. In Innsbruck, at the height of the Spanish Flu, around 100 victims are said to have succumbed to the disease daily. Many Innsbruckers had not returned home from the battlefields and were missing as fathers, husbands, and workers. Many of those who did make it back were wounded and scarred by the horrors of war. As late as February 1920, the "Tyrolean Committee of Siberians" (Tiroler Ausschuss der Sibirier) organized a benefit evening at the Gasthof Breinößl "…in favor of the fund for the repatriation of our prisoners of war…". On top of this came unemployment. Civil servants and public sector employees in particular had lost their jobs after the League of Nations tied its loan to harsh austerity measures. Public sector salaries were cut. Strikes occurred repeatedly. Tourism as an economic factor was nonexistent due to the problems in the surrounding countries, which were likewise ravaged by the war. The construction industry, which had been booming before the war, collapsed completely. Innsbruck’s largest company, Huter & Söhne, had over 700 employees in 1913; at the peak of the economic crisis in 1933, only 18 remained. The middle class largely collapsed. The average Innsbrucker was destitute and malnourished. Often, no more than 800 calories per day could be scraped together. In this climate of poverty, the crime rate was higher than ever before. Many people lost their homes. In 1922, 3,000 families in Innsbruck were looking for accommodation despite a municipal emergency housing program that had already been in effect for several years. Apartments were built into every available property. On February 11, 1921, a long list in the Innsbrucker Nachrichten detailing the individual projects under way included this item:

"The municipal hospital has vacated the epidemic barracks in Pradl and placed them at the disposal of the municipality for the creation of emergency housing. The necessary credit of 295 K (Editor's note: Kronen) was approved for the construction of 7 emergency apartments."

In the early years, there was hardly any improvement in people's everyday lives. The central government had little enforcement power in distant federal states like Tyrol. For a time, Innsbruck, like many other Austrian municipalities, even began printing its own money. The amount of money in circulation rose from 12 billion kronen to over 3 trillion kronen between 1920 and 1922. An epochal inflation was the result. Then, politics woke up from its lethargy. Under Chancellor Ignaz Seipel, the Republic managed to secure a League of Nations loan. The krone, a relic of the monarchy, was replaced by the schilling as the official currency of Austria on January 1, 1925. Between 1918 and 1922, the old currency had lost more than 95% of its value against the dollar relative to the pre-war exchange rate. With the currency stabilization following the League of Nations loan, however, not only did banks and citizens recover, but public sector construction orders also picked up again. Innsbruck modernized. What economists call a sham boom (Scheinblüte) occurred. This short-term economic recovery was a bubble, but it brought major residential construction and infrastructure projects to the city of Innsbruck. In Innsbruck, there are no deliberate places of remembrance dedicated to the creation of the First Republic. The heritage-protected residential complexes such as the Schlachthofblock, the Pembaurblock, the Mandelsbergerblock, the Pembaurschule, the municipal indoor swimming pool (Städtisches Hallenbad), the Höhenstraße up to the Hungerburg, and the cable cars onto the Patscherkofel and Nordkette are contemporary witnesses that remain in operation to this day. The city purchased the Achensee lake and, as the main shareholder of TIWAG, built the power plant in Jenbach. In 1930, the Universitätsbrücke bridge connected the clinic in Wilten with the Höttinger Au. On the Sill river, the Pembaurbrücke and the Prinz-Eugen-Brücke were constructed. In Reichenau, the first airfield opened on June 1, 1925, involving Innsbruck in air traffic 65 years after the opening of the railway line. Many interested onlookers gathered on the meadow east of the city to witness the event. A monument to the pilots who fell in the World War was unveiled before the German airline Aero Lloyd took off for Munich in a single-engine Fokker-Grulich F III. In the autumn, the integration of the new airfield into the Strasbourg – Zurich – Innsbruck – Vienna route by the French Compagnie Internationale de Navigation followed. Thanks to the daring efforts of pilot Raoul Stojsawljewic, remote regions and alpine mountain huts could now also be supplied with food from Innsbruck, as a report in the Innsbrucker Nachrichten from June 7, 1926, shows:

"In fine weather yesterday morning, Major Stojsawljewic from German Lufthansa took off with his aircraft and flew toward Kühtai, where he dropped free beer, donated by the 'Löwenbräu' brewery, by parachute from a low altitude. At 10 o'clock, the Patscherkofelhaus was approached and beer from the Zipf brewery was dropped..."

Trotz der kurzzeitigen Höhenflüge war die Erste Republik auch auf lokaler Ebene eine schwere Geburt und sie sollte nicht lange Bestand haben, obwohl viel Positives seinen Anfang nahm. Aus Untertanen wurden Bürger. Was in der Zeit Maria Theresias begann, wurde nun unter neuen Vorzeichen weitergeführt. Der Wechsel vom Untertanen zum Bürger zeichnete sich nicht nur durch ein neues Wahlrecht, sondern vor allem durch die verstärkte Obsorge des Staates aus. Staatliche Regelungen, Schulen, Kindergärten, Arbeitsämter, Krankenhäuser und städtische Wohnanlagen traten an die Stelle des Wohlwollens von Grundherrn, Landesfürsten, wohlhabender Bürger, der Monarchie und der Kirche. Bis heute basiert vieles im österreichischen Staatswesen sowie im Innsbrucker Stadtbild und der Infrastruktur auf dem, was nach dem Zusammenbruch der Monarchie entstanden war. Auch gesellschaftliche Bräuche und alltägliche Lebenseinstellungen veränderten sich in der Republik nach dem Zusammenbruch der Monarchie. Der 1925 eingeführte Weltspartag erinnert alljährlich an die Einführung des Schillings und die Mahnung an Kinder und Erwachsene zum verantwortungsvollen Umgang mit Geld. Die Handschrift der jungen Massenparteien und das neue Verhältnis zwischen Zentralstaat und Bürger sind bei allem Lokalpatriotismus unübersehbar.