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.

The year 1848 occupies a mythical place in European history. Innsbruck was not one of the hotspots like Paris, Vienna, Budapest, Milan or Berlin, but even in the “Holy Land” of Tyrol the revolutionary year left its mark. In contrast to the rural surroundings, an enlightened educated bourgeoisie had developed in Innsbruck. Enlightened people no longer wanted to be subjects of a monarch or territorial prince, but citizens with rights and duties in relation to a modern state. Students and members of the liberal professions demanded political participation, freedom of the press and civil rights. Workers demanded better wages and working conditions. Particularly radical liberals and nationalists even questioned the absolute authority of the Church. In March 1848 this socially and politically highly explosive mixture erupted in uprisings and street fighting in many cities. In Innsbruck, some students and professors celebrated the newly granted freedom of the press with a torchlight procession. On the whole, however, the revolution proceeded quietly in the rather leisurely Tyrol. To speak of a spontaneous outburst of emotion or even a revolution would already be an exaggeration: the date of the procession was postponed from 20 to 21 March because of bad weather. There were hardly any anti-Habsburg riots or violent incidents; a stray stone thrown into a Jesuit window was one of the highlights of the Alpine version of the Revolution of 1848. The students even supported the city magistrate in maintaining public order, thereby demonstrating their gratitude to the monarch for the newly granted freedoms and their loyalty.

The initial enthusiasm for change among the bourgeois elites was soon replaced in Innsbruck by a surge of German-national patriotism. On April 6, 1848, the governor of Tyrol led a ceremonial procession in which the German flag was displayed. A German tricolour was also hoisted on the city tower. While students, workers, liberal-national citizens, republicans, supporters of a constitutional monarchy, and Catholic conservatives could not agree on social issues such as press freedom, they shared a common hostility toward the Italian independence movement, which had spread across northern Italy from Piedmont and Milan. Innsbruck students and riflemen, with the support of the imperial army leadership, marched into the Trentino to suppress unrest and uprisings at an early stage. Notable members of this corps included the already elderly Father Haspinger, who had fought alongside Andreas Hofer in 1809, and Adolf Pichler. Johann Nepomuk Mahl-Schedl, a wealthy owner of Büchsenhausen Castle, even equipped his own company and marched over the Brenner Pass to secure the border. However, the war did not remain confined to the southern borders. Innsbruck itself, as the political and economic center of the multinational crown land of Tyrol and home to many Italian speakers, became an arena of the conflict between nationalities. Combined with ample alcohol consumption, anti-Italian sentiment posed a greater threat to public order than the demand for civil liberties. A dispute between a German-speaking craftsman and an Italian-speaking Ladin escalated to such an extent that it nearly triggered a pogrom against the numerous businesses and inns of Italian-speaking Tyroleans.

The relative calm of Innsbruck suited the imperial court in Vienna, which was under pressure. As unrest in the capital continued after March, Emperor Ferdinand fled to Tyrol in May. According to contemporary press reports, he was enthusiastically welcomed by the population.

"“What is the name of the land to which such an honour falls, what is the people that enjoys such trust in these fateful times? Does the peace and security here rest solely on legend from ancient times, or is there also in the present a foundation on which one can build, which the wind cannot blow away and the storm cannot shake? This Alpine land is called Tyrol, do you like it? Yes, the Tyrolean people alone prove, in the midst of a shaken Europe, reverence and loyalty, courage and strength for their hereditary ruling house, while all around rebellion, contradiction, defiance and demands, often even revolt and upheaval rage; Tyrol alone stands firmly without wavering in custom and obedience, in religion, truth and law, while elsewhere insolence and falsehood, madness and passions prevail …”"

In June, a young Franz Joseph—still not yet emperor—also stopped at the Hofburg on his return from the battlefields of northern Italy instead of traveling directly to Vienna. Innsbruck once again became a royal residence, albeit only for one summer. While blood was shed in Vienna, Milan, and Budapest, the imperial family enjoyed rural Tyrolean life. Ferdinand, Franz Karl, his wife Sophie, and Franz Joseph received guests from foreign courts and were driven by carriage to excursion destinations such as Weiherburg, Stefansbrücke, Kranebitten, and even up to Heiligwasser, and went on hikes. This calm did not last long. Ferdinand, considered no longer fit to rule, handed over power under gentle pressure to Franz Joseph I. In July 1848, the first parliamentary session was held in Vienna, and a constitution came into force. However, the monarchy’s willingness to reform soon waned. The new parliament—the Reichsrat—could not pass binding laws, the emperor never attended it, and he did not understand why a monarchy ordained by God needed such a council.

Nevertheless, liberalization continued, especially in cities. Innsbruck was granted the status of a city with its own statute. Municipal law introduced a form of citizenship tied to property or tax payments, granting certain rights. Local voting rights were extended to adult male citizens. Innsbruck politics came to be dominated by a greater German liberal faction of merchants, traders, industrialists, and innkeepers. On June 2, 1848, the first issue of the liberal, pro-German Innsbrucker Zeitung was published. Conservative readers preferred the Volksblatt für Tirol und Vorarlberg, while moderates read the Bothen für Tirol und Vorarlberg. Press freedom, however, was soon restricted again. Censorship was partially reintroduced, and newspapers were not allowed to write against the provincial government, monarchy, or Church.

"Anyone who, by means of printed matter, incites, instigates or attempts to incite others to take action which would bring about the violent separation of a part from the unified state... of the Austrian Empire... or the general Austrian Imperial Diet or the provincial assemblies of the individual crown lands.... Imperial Diet or the Diet of the individual Crown Lands... violently disrupts... shall be punished with severe imprisonment of two to ten years."

After Innsbruck had officially replaced Meran as the provincial capital in 1849 and had thus finally become the political centre of Tyrol, parties began to form. With the establishment of the Catholic-conservative faction and the liberals, a pair of opposing ideas emerged that would shape politics not only until the First World War. Associations of all kinds as political organisations in advance of parties, and newspapers, formed the lines along which society split in all questions of life from the cradle to the grave. From 1868 onwards, the liberal, greater German-oriented party provided the mayor of the city of Innsbruck. The influence of the Church declined in Innsbruck in contrast to the surrounding municipalities. Individualism, capitalism, nationalism and consumption stepped into the breach. New worlds of work, department stores, theatres, cafés and dance halls did not displace religion entirely even in the city, but the weighting shifted as a result of the civil freedoms won in 1848.

The probably most important legal change of 1848 was the land relief patent. In Innsbruck the clergy, especially Wilten Abbey, owned a large part of the agricultural land. The Church and the nobility were exempt from taxes. In 1848/49 feudal lordship and the relationship of subjection were abolished in Austria. Ground rents, tithes and compulsory labour were thus removed. The landowners received one third of the value of their land from the state within the framework of the reform, one third was regarded as tax relief, and one third of the compensation had to be borne by the peasants themselves. They could pay this amount in instalments over twenty years. The after-effects can still be felt today. The descendants of the peasants who were successful at the time enjoy, through inherited land ownership resulting from the 1848 reforms, the fruits of prosperity and also political influence through land sales for housing, leases and compensation payments by public authorities for infrastructure projects. The landowning nobility of the past had to come to terms with the humiliation of taking up bourgeois occupations. The transition from privilege by birth to privileged status within society through financial means, networks and education often succeeded. Many Innsbruck dynasties of academics have their origins in the decades after 1848.

Life also changed for the broader population. The previously unknown phenomenon of leisure time emerged and, together with disposable income available to a greater number of people, fostered hobbies. Civil organisations and associations—from reading circles to choral societies, fire brigades and sports clubs—were founded. The revolutionary year also manifested itself in the cityscape. Parks such as the English Garden at Ambras Castle or the Hofgarten were no longer reserved exclusively for the aristocracy but served citizens as local recreational areas. In St. Nikolaus the Waltherpark was created as a small oasis of calm. One floor above, the first swimming and bathing facility in Tyrol opened at Büchsenhausen Castle; soon afterwards another bath followed in Dreiheiligen. Excursion inns around Innsbruck flourished. Alongside high-end restaurants and hotels, a scene of taverns emerged in which workers and employees could also afford pleasant evenings with theatre, music and dancing.

Einer der wichtigsten Akteure der Innsbrucker Stadtgeschichte war Wilhelm Greil (1850 – 1928). Von 1896 bis 1923 bekleidete der Unternehmer das Amt des Bürgermeisters, nachdem er vorher bereits als Vizebürgermeister die Geschicke der Stadt mitgestaltet hatte. Sein Wirken war nicht nur lange, sondern fand auch in einer besonders dynamischen Zeit statt. Die vier Jahrzehnte zwischen der Wirtschaftskrise 1873 und dem Ersten Weltkrieg von einem nie dagewesenen Wachstum und einer rasenden Modernisierung gekennzeichnet. Es war die Zeit der Eingemeindung ganzer Stadtviertel, technischer Innovationen und neuer Medien. Private Investitionen in Infrastruktur wie Eisenbahn, Energie und Strom waren vom Staat gewünscht und wurden steuerlich begünstigt, um die Länder und Städte der kränkelnden Donaumonarchie in die Moderne zu führen. Die Wirtschaft der Stadt boomte. Betriebe in den neuen Stadtteilen Pradl und Wilten entstanden und lockten Arbeitskräfte an. Auch der Tourismus brachte frisches Kapital in die Stadt.

The political landscape of the late Austro-Hungarian Monarchy was, broadly speaking, shaped by liberal nationalist parties representing the various ethnic groups of the multi-ethnic empire, as well as by conservatives and social democrats. The Catholic conservative party had already lost influence and was considered outdated, retaining support mainly among the petty bourgeoisie and farmers, but in Tyrol it formed a bloc with the reform Catholic Christian Socials. Social Democrats, Christian Socials, and German Nationalists can, in a sense, be seen as the precursors of today’s parliamentary parties SPÖ, ÖVP, and FPÖ. Innsbruck’s municipal council was long dominated by the liberal and Greater German-oriented “German People’s Party,” to which Greil also belonged. What appears contradictory today—being both liberal and nationalist—was a common and functional pairing of ideas in the 19th century. Pan-Germanism was not a political peculiarity of a right-wing extremist minority; rather, especially in German-speaking cities of the empire, it was a centrist current that retained influence in varying forms across almost all parties well into the post-Second World War period. Anyone examining newspaper articles from around the turn of the century will find countless pieces emphasizing the commonalities between the German Empire and the German-speaking territories. Innsbruck residents who prided themselves referred to themselves not as Austrians but as Germans. Only after the incorporation of Wilten and Pradl in 1904 were conservatives able to make gains, though not enough to catch up entirely. Social democracy played hardly any role before 1918. Due to an electoral system based on property classes, only about 10% of Innsbruck’s population was entitled to vote, while women were fundamentally excluded. Within the three electoral bodies, a majority voting system applied—essentially meaning: the winner takes it all. Mayor Greil lived, fittingly, in a manner similar to a Renaissance prince. He came from the upper class of the large bourgeoisie. His father could afford to establish the family’s home base in the Palais Lodron on Maria-Theresien-Straße. Thanks to this electoral system, Mayor Greil could rely on 100% support in the municipal council until the period of the First Republic, which naturally made decision-making and governance considerably easier. Despite the apparent efficiency displayed by Innsbruck’s mayors at first glance, one should not forget that this was only possible because, as part of an elite of entrepreneurs, merchants, and professionals, they governed without significant opposition and without consideration for other population groups such as workers, craftsmen, and employees—in what might be described as an elected dictatorship. The Imperial Municipal Act of 1862 granted cities like Innsbruck, and thus their mayors, greater powers. It is hardly surprising that the chain of office presented to Greil on his 60th birthday by his colleagues in the municipal council closely resembled the chains of orders of the old nobility. Nevertheless, Greil was also a skillful politician who navigated the power structures and media landscape of his time with great adeptness. Article 17 of the Austrian Basic Law of 1867, also known as the December Constitution, guaranteed freedom of expression in the press for the first time without prior censorship—excluding criminal offenses such as blasphemy or insults to the authorities, of course. As a result, a wide range of newspapers emerged, such as the conservative Neue Tiroler Stimme, the social democratic Volkszeitung, and the liberal Innsbrucker Nachrichten, each shaping a worldview in line with the preferences of their publishers. Thanks to the reach of the Innsbrucker Nachrichten, Wilhelm Greil was able to promote his views. Despite sometimes vehement speeches inspired by the program of the German nationalist founding figure Georg Ritter von Schönerer (1842–1921), he managed to come to terms with conservative forces in the region, even though conflicts were often fierce, especially in the media. Issues such as taxation, social policy, education, housing, and the design of public spaces were debated with passion and zeal—often with violence as the ultimate argument.

Under Greil’s leadership and fueled by the general economic upswing driven by private investment, Innsbruck expanded at a rapid pace. Acting in a forward-looking manner like a merchant, the municipal council acquired land in anticipation of future developments. As a politician, Greil was able to rely on civil servants and urban planners such as Eduard Klingler, Jakob Albert, and Theodor Prachensky for the major construction projects of the time. Infrastructure projects such as the new town hall on Maria-Theresien-Straße in 1897, the opening of the Mittelgebirgsbahn, the Hungerburg Funicular, and the Karwendel Railway were implemented during his tenure. Other visible milestones included the redesign of the marketplace and the construction of the market hall. Alongside these prestigious large-scale projects, however, many inconspicuous revolutions took place in the final decades of the 19th century. Much of what was advanced in the second half of the century is now part of everyday life, but for people at the time these changes were sensational and life-changing. Greil’s predecessor, Mayor Heinrich Falk (1840–1917), had already contributed significantly to the modernization of the city and the development of the Saggen district. Since 1859, the expansion of gas pipeline lighting in the city had progressed steadily. With urban growth and modernization, cesspits—used as latrines in building courtyards and emptied and sold to nearby farmers as fertilizer—became unacceptable to an increasing number of residents. In 1880, the emptying of these latrines, colloquially known as “Raggeln,” was transferred to municipal responsibility. Two pneumatic machines were intended to make the process at least somewhat more hygienic. Between 1887 and 1891, Innsbruck was equipped with a modern high-pressure water supply system, which made it possible to supply even upper-floor apartments with fresh water. Those who could afford it now had the opportunity to install flush toilets in their homes for the first time. Greil continued this campaign of modernization with numerous infrastructure projects. The growing concentration of people in increasingly confined spaces, often under precarious hygienic conditions, brought many problems. The city’s outskirts and surrounding villages were regularly plagued by typhus. After decades of discussion, construction of a modern sewer system began in 1903. Starting from the city center, more and more districts were connected to what is now a commonplace utility. By 1908, only the districts of Mariahilf and St. Nikolaus—nicknamed “Koatlackler”—remained unconnected. The new slaughterhouse in Saggen also improved hygiene and cleanliness in the city. Poorly controlled private slaughtering largely became a thing of the past. Livestock arrived by train at Sillspitz and was professionally processed in the modern facility. Greil brought the gasworks in Pradl and the power plant in Mühlau into municipal ownership. Street lighting was converted from gas lamps to electric light in the 20th century. In 1888, the hospital was relocated from Maria-Theresien-Straße to its current site. During this “Innsbruck Renaissance,” the mayor and municipal council were supported not only by the growing economic strength of the pre-war years but also by patrons from the bourgeoisie. While technical innovations and infrastructure were the domain of the liberals, care for the poorest remained in the hands of clerically oriented forces—though no longer directly with the Church itself. Baron Johann von Sieberer donated the old people’s home and orphanage in Saggen. Leonhard Lang donated the building on Maria-Theresien-Straße—where the town hall is still located today—in return for the city’s promise to build an apprentice residence.

In contrast to the booming pre-war era, Greil’s leadership after 1914 was marked by crisis management. In his final years in office, he guided Innsbruck through the transition from the Habsburg monarchy to the republic—a time characterized above all by hunger, hardship, scarcity of resources, and insecurity. He was 68 years old when Tyrol was divided at the Brenner Pass after the war. During his political career, Greil had often exploited general hostility toward Italians (“Walsche”) in a similarly populist manner to his Christian Social counterpart in Vienna, Karl Lueger, who used antisemitic rhetoric. At the end of his career, he had to witness the Italian occupation of Innsbruck. With the introduction of the republic, the census-based voting system was abolished, marking the beginning of the end of liberal dominance in the municipal council. In 1919, the Social Democrats won elections in Innsbruck for the first time. Only due to council majorities and a coalition of Greater German-liberal and conservative-clerical politicians did Greil remain mayor. He died in 1928 at the age of 78 as an honorary citizen of the city of Innsbruck. Wilhelm-Greil-Straße had already been named after him during his lifetime.

Martin Rapoldi (1880–1926) and his wife Maria (1884–1975) were among the most remarkable figures in Innsbruck’s municipal politics during the first half of the twentieth century. Martin Rapoldi had come to Innsbruck via Carinthia, Vienna, and Bohemia. During his apprenticeship as a carpenter, he was first exposed to socially critical ideas. Together with other apprentices, he founded a kind of anarchist trade union in Klagenfurt with youthful enthusiasm. In Vienna and Žatec, in what is now the Czech Republic, he became active in the trade union movement and in the Social Democratic Party, which had only recently been officially established. In 1904, he moved to Innsbruck, where the man in his mid-twenties soon distinguished himself as an ambitious organizer and an inspiring public speaker. Thanks to his linguistic talent, he took over the Volkszeitung, the mouthpiece of the Tyrolean Social Democrats, in the years that followed. Despite the initial enthusiasm for entering the war, which also existed within the Social Democratic movement, Rapoldi, who was known as an anti-clerical priest-hater, soon advocated for peace and for the introduction of universal suffrage at the municipal level as well. In the early years of the First Republic, he enjoyed a brief but steep political rise. He was elected to the Tyrolean Parliament and became a member of the first National Council in Vienna. In Innsbruck, he succeeded in making the Social Democrats the strongest party on the municipal council. However, due to the anti-socialist stance of the other factions on the council, he was never able to assume the office of mayor. His particular concerns were housing construction and the municipal energy supply. During Rapoldi’s time on the council, the major projects known as the Schlachthofblock in Dreiheiligen and the Pembaurblock in Pradl, together with a school and kindergarten, were built. He was also instrumental in establishing the Innsbruck Light Works, today’s Innsbrucker Kommunalbetriebe (Innsbruck Municipal Utilities). His greatest achievement was the acquisition of Lake Achensee and the Achensee Railway. As early as 1911, under Mayor Wilhelm Greil, the City of Innsbruck negotiated with the Bavarian monastery of Fiecht to purchase the lake for a hydroelectric power station serving the city’s electricity utility. The war interrupted these plans. In 1919, negotiations between the municipal council and the monastery concerning the purchase of Lake Achensee resumed. The purchase price was ultimately fixed at 1.2 million crowns, plus the monastery’s own electricity requirements. Financing proved difficult in the financially strained postwar period. Until 1924, the federal government granted tax relief for municipalities constructing hydroelectric power plants. At the last moment, TIWAG (Tyrolean Hydroelectric Power Company) was founded, with the City of Innsbruck as the majority shareholder, and the purchase could finally be completed. According to legend, because of the inflation between 1919 and 1924, the value of the purchase price at the time of payment was no longer enough to buy a lake, but only a gentleman’s suit. When the city sold the lake to TIWAG sixty years later, it generated nearly one billion Austrian schillings, enough to pay off the city’s debts. In 1926, the "Red Carpenter" died at the young age of 46 from the consequences of a kidney infection.

The biography of his wife Maria is no less impressive. In her parents’ household in Wörgl, she came into contact with Social Democratic ideas at an early age. Trained as a bookkeeper, she moved to Innsbruck. It was probably through her work for the health insurance fund that she met her future husband, whom she married in 1905. Despite raising two young daughters, Maria was already active in 1912 at the provincial women’s conference of the Social Democrats. After her husband’s death, she remained actively involved in the Social Democratic movement. As an employee of the Volkszeitung, she repeatedly came under the scrutiny of the Fatherland Front during the years of Austrofascism. After the Volkszeitung was banned as part of the regime’s censorship measures, she had to struggle to make a living as an unemployed widow. She opened a stamp shop in Innsbruck’s Old Town. At the same time, she was involved underground in the Red Aid (Rote Hilfe), an organization that supported the families of imprisoned members of the Republican Protection League (Republikanischer Schutzbund). During the National Socialist era, she was imprisoned for a short period. After the war, she emerged from the shadow of her husband Martin, who had died at a young age, and assumed official public responsibilities of her own. From 1946 to 1959, she served as a member of the Innsbruck City Council. She campaigned for social causes such as homes for the elderly, children’s homes, and improvements in food supplies and healthcare during the difficult postwar years. She also served as a member of the Tyrolean Relief Organization (Tiroler Hilfswerk), the City School Board, the Board of Trustees of the Sieberer Orphanage, and the Administrative Committee of the Innsbruck Girls’ Secondary School.

Martin and Maria Rapoldi are buried in a distinguished honorary grave at the Westfriedhof (Western Cemetery), which is well worth visiting. The park in Pradl, opened in 1927, also bears the names of these two memorable municipal politicians. Following Rapoldi’s early death, the Social Democratic Party erected a monument in his honor in Kranebitten. In 1934, however, the monument was destroyed by members of the Tyrolean Home Guard (Tiroler Heimwehr).