of the emergence of a collective "Spanish" identity in the
modern period must first take into account a salient historical fact:
the union of kingdoms achieved by the "Catholic Kings,"
the Trastámara cousins Ferdinand and Isabella, at the end of the fifteenth
century and the beginning of the sixteenth. Following their marriage
in 1474, Isabella's victory in the subsequent Castilian civil war
and Ferdinand's accession to the Aragonese throne, the royal couple
broadened their dominions with the conquest of Granada-the last Muslim
kingdom in the Iberian Peninsula-and Navarre, incorporated by Ferdinand
after his second marriage. This policy of absorption created a political
conglomerate whose borders have remained basically stable for the
last half millennium, a very remarkable fact when compared with the
fragile and shifting European boundaries throughout the same period.
What we today call "Spain" very closely resembles the structure
of power accumulated by the Catholic Kings, which makes it one of
the oldest political units in Europe, along with France and Britain.
statement has nothing to do with the commonplace reiterated by nationalist
historians, who used to write that the Catholic Kings achieved "Spanish
national unity." Since we are discussing the precedents of a
modern nation-state, after recalling the formation and durability
of this political entity it is fair to immediately add that its nature
at the beginning of that period bears very scarce resemblance to its
nature at the end, that is, the meaning of the word "Spain"
underwent radical transformation during those 500 years. The union
of kingdoms ruled by the Catholic Kings and their successors was utterly
alien to what we understand by a nation-state, and present-day historians
even doubt whether it could deserve the label "modern state,"
or "state" at all, although the latter were ideal types
widely applied to it by those who wrote on this phenomenon just a
few decades ago. Instead, today we tend to use terms such as "monarchy"
or "empire" to refer to that conglomerate-words used by
the contemporaries, who also began to refer to it as "the Spanish
monarchy." I make these semantic distinctions to stress the weak
degree of integration of that structure as compared with modern states.
Indeed, its different kingdoms and lordships formed a kind of confederation,
only united by their common allegiance to the same king; not only
did they keep their own institutions, tax exemptions and draft privileges,
but they were separated by internal customs. None of this was different
from other European monarchies of that period-Scotland within England,
for instance; all of them originated in the sum of different territories
acquired through conquest or inheritance, while retaining special
recognition of their "privileges."
but not unusual, trait of the situation was the use of force by the
Spanish monarchs in order to keep those territories under their rule.
In the sixteenth and mid-seventeenth centuries, Castile itself, and
then Aragon and Catalonia rose up in defense of their privileges against
the kings' efforts to increase or centralize their powers, but all
of them-unlike Portugal, which also rebelled for the same reasons-were
crushed, the Castilians by Charles V, the Aragonese by Philip II and
the Catalans by Philip IV. The latter's resistance to Madrid´s rule
has often been presented by nationalist historiography as an upsurge
of "nationalistic" feelings in a modern sense (and "Els
Segadors," a song recalling the 1640 uprising in which the Spanish
viceroy was murdered, is today the Catalan national anthem). But this
interpretation is just a projection of modern phenomena, since, in
the early modern period, those struggles were the result of competition
among elites for privileges, with little resemblance to a clash
over sovereignty in terms of cultural collective personalities.
Local elites were the only beneficiaries of those privileges, and
they fought for them without taking into account any popular will
and, above all, without any reference to ethnic traits ins
support of their political claims.
these conflicts did not last long. After the Catalan defeat in the
1640-1653 war, armed confrontations between the absolute monarch and
his privileged kingdoms ended. It is true that modern nationalist
movements emerged in Catalonia and the Basque Country at the end of
the nineteenth century, and they tended to link their claims to those
of the old regime, thus presenting a historical version that gave
those identities a centuries-old history. But my contention here will
be that those peripheral nationalisms are basically modern, and that
they have been a consequence of the weak effort to nationalize the
masses, or incomplete nation-building process, in Spanish-Castilian
terms, during the nineteenth century.
Let us go back
to the precedents. After the unification reached by the Catholic Kings,
and under the rule of the Habsburg Charles V and Philip II, the extraordinary
political success of these monarchs, especially in the wars in which
they were constantly involved against the French, the Protestants
and the Turks, gave birth to some kind of collective identity in "Spanish"
terms. The armies that played the lead in those wars were not "national,"
of course, but mostly hired and with a composition that, in modern
terms, would be considered "multinational." But we should
not forget that their enemies called them "Spaniards," that
there was a significant component of elite soldiers (the Tercios)
coming from Castile, the monarchy's most populated kingdom, and that
among the subjects of the Catholic monarch living in border areas
the fear caused by foreign attacks undoubtedly created xenophobic
feelings against the "enemies of Spain."
Thousands of cultural testimonies could be mentioned here attesting
the emergence of a "Spanish" identity linked to loyalty
to the monarch and allegiance to the "true" religion, more
or less as strong as those created in France or England at the same
time. One of the best examples of that "Spanishness" is
the Historia General de España written in the 1590s
by the Jesuit Juan de Mariana.
some "ethnic" components in that identity, since it was
referred to as a "people" or "nation" that allegedly
had existed for millennia, whose members were all supposed to have
the same religious beliefs and psychological traits and whose extraordinary
exploits were attributed to their spiritual cohesion. And yet, it
would be wrong to call that identity "nationalism"-just
as I consider it wrong to call that monarchy a "nation-state"
or to attribute the 1640 Catalan uprising to pre-nationalist feelings-because
that cultural creation never extended beyond the level of the elites,
that is, nobody made an effort to "nationalize the masses";
and, above all, because those ethnic traits were not the basis for
political legitimacy, which was grounded on dynastic rights and the
religiosity of the monarch.
There was a
second factor which reinforced that newborn identity and had an undeniable
impact on popular milieus: the deep attachment to the Roman Catholic
dogma and bitter hostility toward the rebel Protestants, created during
the Counter-Reformation period, along with the pride of being "Old
Christian," that is, of "pure" or "clean"
blood, and not a descendant of the old Jewish and Muslim minorities.
It is difficult to exaggerate the importance of this religious allegiance,
which almost superseded and replaced the political link (the fact
of being the subjects of the same king). Anti-Muslim and anti-Protestant
wars, plus the vigilant eye of the Inquisition, generated a self-referential
discourse with a seemingly indelible Catholic legacy. Even the Cádiz
Constitution of 1812, inspired by Liberal revolutionaries, expressed
this religious allegiance with shocking bluntness: "The Roman
Apostolic Catholic religion, the only genuine one, is and
shall perpetually be, the religion of all Spaniards."
were indeed most prominent among the calls to rise up against the
French when a Napoleonic army entered Spain in 1808. And the success
of those calls-which
fostered a ferocious popular resistance
for a six-year period-proved that some kind of "Spanish"
identity existed at the beginning of the modern period. Liberal elites
who believed to be inspiring the resistance of the Spanish people
against Napoleon from the surrounded city of Cádiz
went so far as to present that struggle as a "war of national
liberation." Should this be true, it could be considered an
excellent beginning of the modern age from the point of view of Spanish
nationalism. Unfortunately for national believers, those were nationalistic simplifications.
Indeed, "Spain" had been
the rallying cry for the rebellion.
But this word referred, at that time, to a mixture of traditions,
religiosity and antirevolutionary ideology. As for the armed confrontation
itself, today we interpret it as an enormously complex phenomenon.
It was, first of all, an international war, waged between the two
great European powers of the time: France and England. The division
of loyalties among the elites also allows us to classify the conflict
as a civil war. In the popular uprising there were xenophobic, anti-French
elements, derived from the fact that France had been the main rival
of the Spanish monarchy for a couple of centuries and later the model
drawn upon by Spain's enlightened reformers, both good reasons for
the animosity it aroused among broad sectors of the Spanish population.
Another prominent feeling driving many of the combatants was a Manichaean,
highly personalized view of the political problems of the day, according
to which Manuel Godoy, the former favorite minister who had ruled with absolute
power for almost two decades, was the incarnation of Evil, blamed
for all calamities afflicting the patria, while the heir Ferdinand
of Bourbon, acclaimed as King Ferdinand VII, was the Good Prince,
personifying all hope of rectification and redemption. Finally, the
anti-Napoleonic war also featured a political-religiously inspired
antirevolutionary protest; it is difficult to deny the prevalence
of calls to defend the inherited religion against the atheistic invaders,
emanating most vehemently from the rural clergy.
But the new nationalistic rhetoric
was entering Europe, and the supporters of Ferdinand VII, who led
the resistance against the French troops, very skillfully used it
in order to blur all the complexities of the struggle and to present
it as a national uprising of the Spanish people against a foreign
attempt to dominate them. Indeed, the significance of those events
was magnified by the additional populist trait in this picture, which
made it much more suitable for the Romantic times that were about
to begin: the French had been defeated by the Spanish "Pueblo"
in a supposedly spontaneous reaction without the direction or even
assistance of their traditional rulers. The popular classes, the eternal
bearer of national essence, had saved the fatherland when the cosmopolitan
and treacherous elites had abandoned it to foreign invaders. A final
important feature in this depiction of those events as a heroic deed
of the Spanish nation was the prominent role played in them by Catalans
and Aragonese. Indeed, the French
had had little success when looking for collaborationists in Catalonia,
and Zaragoza, Barcelona and Gerona had resisted the French troops
most stubbornly. Catalan intellectuals, such as Antonio de Capmany,
were prominent among the creators of Spanish national myths at the
Liberal Cortes in Cádiz.
The final stage
of that process of nationalization of the anti-Napoleonic struggle
would come some
twenty years later, after the wars of independence of the Spanish
American empire, when historians finally found the name best suited
to this nationalist version: the 1808-1814 war was christened "the
War of Independence," a label that has not yet been revised.
From then on the "War of Independence" would be the pillar
for the century's most ambitious effort to build a Spanish nationalist
mythology. Witness the monuments erected to the conflict's "martyrs,"
the conversion of the Second of May into a nationalist holiday (and
not 12 October, the anniversary of the discovery of America, eurocentrism
prevailing over a nod to American engagements) and the first series
of Benito Pérez Galdós's "National Episodes," devoted to
that war. With good reason, since that war seemed to have proven the
permanent existence of a Spanish identity: Spanish heroism against
the French was supposedly the reenactment of the "spirit"
of Numantia and Saguntum (two pre-historical towns which resisted
Carthagenian and Roman assaults), the proof of the unique love of
Spaniards for their independence. They had defeated Napoleon-presented
as an invincible warrior, the best general history had known since
Alexander the Great-as they had the Roman armies two thousand years
ago, because people ready to give their lives for their freedom were
invincible ("pues no puede esclavo ser / pueblo que sabe morir,"
as ran the famous patriotic verses by Bernardo López García).
Seen from the outside, and partly
due to the anti-Napoleonic war, Spain also underwent a reevaluation.
Lord Byron's idealization of Spain in 1809 and the hundreds of memoirs
written by British or French veterans from the Peninsular war, along
with the arrival in Paris and London of paintings by Velázquez or
Murillo-some as a result of the plundering of Spanish churches by
the Napoleonic army, some as gifts presented to Lord Wellington-all
caused a sudden discovery of Spanish culture during the Golden Age.
Washington Irving's Alhambra Tales, Victor Hugo's Orientales
and Théophile Gautier's imaginative account of his trip to the country
in the 1840s would continue to elaborate this picture, which would
be epitomized in Prosper Mérimée's Carmen, later translated
into an enormously successful opera by Bizet. All in all, the Spanish
image dramatically changed. It is not that the negative image of the
"Spanish character" forged by Protestant Europe in Phillip
II's days (the so-called "Black Legend") disappeared, but,
as a product of the Romantic shift in the sensitivity of the Europeans,
it was reinterpreted in positive terms. To William of Orange or Cromwell,
Spain had only been the country of cruel conquistadors, fanatical
inquisitors, idle and arrogant aristocrats; one century later, everybody
agreed with Montesquieu's explanation of the political and economic
decline of the Spanish monarchy as the natural consequence of fanaticism,
ignorance and arrogance. To Romantic writers, first influenced by
the Spanish performance against the Napoleonic armies, the Iberian
country continued to be backward, cruel and dangerous, but those features
were the result of the intense passions and sincere beliefs of its
people. The old conquistadors, inquisitors and idle noblemen were
now converted into guerrilleros, bandits, bullfighters, Carlist
friars, proud beggars; no less cruel or fanatical than their predecessors,
but they led to a positive, instead of negative, evaluation of the
"national soul": Spain was a fascinating country, one of
the few "pure" and "authentic" peoples of Europe,
characterized by its bravery, pride, dignity, religiosity.
This change had indeed little to
do with Spanish reality. None of these travelers and observers were
truly interested in understanding the country; they were rather guided
by the prejudices and concerns they brought from home. The Spain that
they were looking for-and which
they naturally found-was nothing
more than an idealization, the counter-image to the societies they
rejected and left behind. What had really happened was a shift in
the moral values and internal demands of the European society. Spain
began to be seen in a positive light because it offered, on the one
hand, an exoticism that satisfied the curiosity and the need
to consume refined cultural products typical of the new middle classes
which were reaching a considerable level of well-being. Furthermore,
Spain was seen as a premodern society, and this was a second
source of its magnetism. Postrevolutionary France and industrialized
England were not so sanguine about the effects of "progress"
as enlightened thinkers had been in the previous century. Revolutionary
terror, political instability, the empire of mercantile values, all
produced a critical reaction. In artistic and intellectual circles
it became fashionable to distance oneself from the moral cynicism
and aesthetic mediocrity of the so-called "bourgeois philistine":
many, affected by the "spleen," le mal du siècle,
found modern society boring. Spain, conveniently idealized
as a paradise still untouched by industrialization, urbanization
and capitalism, offered the counter-image. Spaniards were particularly
attractive to royalists who saw in them an example of loyalty to their
king and religion, but also to those who felt nostalgia for a less
politically developed society, based on personal relations and commitments
rather than on the link with an anonymous bureaucratic state; or to
those who were afraid of a social explosion due to the crumbling of
traditional social hierarchy after the industrial revolution and saw
in Spain's lower classes "dignity" and disdain for material
values; or finally to those who lamented the repression, the conventionality,
the anonymity, characteristic of urban mass societies and believed
to have found in Spain vital spontaneity, joy of living, innate aesthetic
taste, and above all "loyalty to its identity"-because nobody
doubted there was a very clearly defined Spanish identity.
Within Spain, intellectual elites
who were aware of what was happening in other European countries linked
their efforts to modernize the society and the political system with
a nationalist revivalism. Two and a half centuries after the very
precocious work of the Jesuit Juan de Mariana, Modesto Lafuente published
in 1850 the first of his thirty-volume Historia General de España.
A very creative period followed, with some dozen other national histories
published until the end of the century. In the early 1850s Lafuente's
own history was quickly converted into school textbooks by Fernando
de Castro and widely used after 1856, when the first law for general
education was passed. At the same time, the Romantic taste for historical
painting was creating the images of the main historical feats in
the way they were going to be transmitted to the twentieth century;
even today, most illustrations of history schoolbooks come from the
period 1850-1880. Literature, music, architecture, even archaeological,
ethnographical or anthropological studies some decades later, would
follow the national pattern.
The main aim of these artistic, humanistic
or supposedly scientific cultural creations was to define the national
identity, to grasp the "essence" of the nation, its distinctive
personality. Historical accounts, above all, were
a quest for a collective identity that was supposed to have
existed since the remotest past. They
depicted the nation slowly emerging and asserting itself in the territory
of a sovereign state, as a product of a unique history, culture and
geographical profile. In the Spanish case, the basic argument ran
that since time immemorial "Spaniards" had survived wave after
wave of invaders, in successive cycles of loss and recovery of the
national personality. Completing a process of reinterpretation
of the past which had began in the last centuries of the old regime,
Numantians were once and for all considered "Spaniards,"
living proof of the race's heroism and its love for independence;
Seneca witnessed the stoicism of the national character; the almost
eight-century-long struggle against the Muslims testified to the innate
Christian beliefs of the Spaniards. Students could thus take pride
and participate in all the glories of their community, their country's
contribution to humanity. And historical accounts provided a set of
moral prescriptions for individual and collective life, as an expression
of the "nation's spirit."
The first builders
of that mythical construction of a legendary past had to make a considerable
effort to put it in terms suitable for their modernizing project.
Liberal elites insisted that this idealized nation had reached its
zenith in the Middle Ages, when the Spaniards, locked in yet another
battle to preserve their identity in the face of a foreign invasion,
had instituted a society characterized by popular participation and
tolerance, regional and local diversity, and constraints on royal
power expressed in fueros (local rights). The crown, insofar
as it had unified the future nation and counteracted the factious
and arbitrary power of the nobility, was generally portrayed in favorable
terms by these authors, although the Catholic Kings, final architects
of the "national unity," were not immune to criticism from
the most radical Liberals over their creation of the Inquisition and
expulsion of the Jews. Criticism of the monarchy sharply increased
when judging the two centuries of rule by the "foreign"
Habsburg dynasty. Charles V had abolished Castilian freedom when suppressing
the Comunidades revolt in 1521, and embarked Spain on dynastic
wars that had bankrupted the country. Liberal historians tarred Philip
II with the same brush as the one wielded by his avowed Protestant
enemies; even the most moderate underscored his severity and religious
intolerance, his scorn for the Aragonese fueros, and the commercial
and intellectual damage caused to the nation by his resolve to isolate
the country from the rest of Europe and Protestant contagion. His
successors, Philip III and Philip IV, were considered "feeble"
kings, who had blindly surrendered to the despotic ambition of their
validos (favorite ministers), while continuing to destroy the
"Spanish constitution," with their attacks on fueros,
this time in Catalonia, and to damage the economy of the nation with
the expulsion of the Moors. Charles II, the last Habsburg, had only
reaped the sad harvest of the policies of his predecessors.
All these developments-the
anti-Napoleonic war, the Romantic reappraisal of Spain, the reelaboration
of history and culture in general in nationalistic terms-seemed to
indicate that the age of nations was beginning in a very positive
way for the conversion of the monarchic-Catholic identity created
during the previous period into a truly modern national identity.
By 1850, few would have hesitated to count Spain among the most clearly
defined European "nations." And yet, problems and discrepancies
would appear in the 1890s and would become serious in all crucial
moments of the twentieth century. A certain part of public opinion-particularly,
among Basques and Catalans, but also some Galician intellectual elites-would
feel detached from "Spanishness." I would contend that the
origin of those problems lies in the Liberal revolutions of the nineteenth
A salient political fact marks nineteenth-century
Spain: its degradation to a third-rate power in the international
scene. In spite of a recurrent discourse on Spanish "decadence"
dating from the seventeenth century, Spain had continued to be a major
political actor until the Napoleonic years, as proven by its participation
in all major European wars for 300 years. But after the loss of the
navy in Trafalgar, the Napoleonic invasion and the independence of
the American empire in the first twenty years of the century, Spain's
position declined. Throughout the following two hundred years, Spain
would not take part in any international war. Spain would have no
external threats, no international enemies, and only a few, brief,
colonial wars, most of which, by the way, ended in failure. The "nationalization
of the masses," as George Mosse put it, took place in the European
countries during modern wars, such as the Franco-Prussian or World
War I, and Spain had nothing like that.
In exchange for not having external wars, Spain had civil wars (three
in the nineteenth century, and a terrible one in the twentieth), which
have exactly the opposite effect to external conflicts: they destroy
the unity of the social body, instead of being a reinforcing factor.
Not only did Spaniards not fight united against anyone; they also
fought a great deal against each other. The Spanish state was in a
chronic political crisis, its legitimacy being constantly questioned
during a period of at least seventy years (1808-1875): from Liberal
to autocratic periods, from one dynasty to another, from a monarchical
constitution to a republican one, from a unitary Republic to a federal
one. Revolutions and civil wars made it difficult for
any government to have stability, legitimacy and the means to imprint
any deep cultural mark on Spanish society.
situation of royal finances was another obstacle. The heavy debts
accumulated during the
last wars of the old regime burdened the public sector throughout
the nineteenth century, when about one third of public resources was
constantly devoted to paying interest on government bonds. The gains
from the disentailment of Church lands were immediately spent in
the Carlist war, when enormous economic damage was added to the destruction
suffered during the Napoleonic conflict. Governments were able neither
to influence the economy nor to implement their political measures.
The most they could do was provide for the army payroll, a few civil
servants and the expenses of the royal house. For its subjects, the
state limited itself to the "extraction-coercion" cycle,
typical of the early modern period in Europe. No wonder that it failed
to foster feelings of identification and that Spain was a country
economy on the whole was underdeveloped, with an overwhelmingly agrarian sector still
using techniques dating from Roman times. However, this backwardness
should not be exaggerated, since, although the population increased
from eleven to eighteen million within a century, traditional famines
nonetheless disappeared, which means that the period witnessed, on
the whole, considerable economic growth. But, given the European
context, the comparison with the most advanced European countries
was unavoidable: the perception of both Spaniards and visitors was
backwardness, decadence (one of the most repeated words in
the Spanish political vocabulary). Spaniards felt that they could
not resist the comparison with Britain, Germany or France; and they
refused to compare themselves with Poland or Ukraine, countries of
the same size and population as theirs, but without their "glorious
imperial past." All these decades of impotence coincided with
the period when other European powers were at their peak, expanding
and conquering the world. Thus, a sense of "failure" instead
of pride in being Spanish, developed. Antonio Cánovas del Castillo,
the builder of the parliamentary system that crowned the liberal cycle,
made a humorous reference to that attitude when he muttered at the
drafting commission of the 1876 constitution: "son españoles
... los que no pueden ser otra cosa" (Spaniards are ... those
who cannot be anything else).
Economic integration of the country
was too imperfect to lead to the creation of a real "national
market," which, according to Ernest Gellner, is the key to building
a national culture. The revolution in communications
did not arrive in Spain until very late. I do not mean only roads,
mail coaches and railways, but national daily papers, which led to
the formation of a national public opinion in other countries. From
the point of view of the development of a sense of nationality, the
relative slowness of the modernization process is more important in
a negative than in a positive sense. When there is no national market,
the country is not urbanized, and there are few national newspapers,
old local links and identities are not broken and very few feel the
need of a new collective identity. Nationalism is a reaction to modernity,
to the vacuum created by the impact of modernity on a traditional
society. In the 1890s Spain there were still too many local or religious
fiestas, too many guild traditions and regional identities;
there was no need and no room for the nation.
As a result of all this, the process
of creating national myths and symbols was slow and weak. Spain had
no national flag until 1843; and even then it was challenged by both
Carlists and Republicans in subsequent civil wars until 1939. No
national anthem was agreed upon until the twentieth century (to this
day it has no words, which means that it cannot be sung, thus forfeiting
one of the main inflammatory effects of an anthem); in the Spanish-American
War of 1898, the most widespread patriotic song was the "Marcha
de Cádiz," taken from a zarzuela (musical comedy). Finally,
Spain had few national monuments. Not even street names bore references
to national glories, although the expansion of the main Spanish cities
outside their medieval walls was undertaken in the 1850s and 1860s,
in the midst of the nationalistic fervor in Europe. It is very telling
to compare the street names of the Barcelonan Eixample, the
new district of the expanding city in the 1860s, which reflect the
greatness of the Catalan medieval empire, with the equivalent in
Madrid, which mainly feature names of nineteenth-century politicians.
Apart from Christopher Columbus, in whose honor an important square
was opened at the end of the century, there is no great avenue recalling
the great conquistadores of the American continent or other
historical myths such as Hernán Cortés, Francisco Pizarro, Viriato
(the rebel against the Roman legions), the battles of Otumba, Pavía,
Lepanto, Numantia or Saguntum in the heart of Madrid; no Lepanto
Square mirrors London's Trafalgar Square.
The weakness of the nationalization
of the masses is also demonstrated by the tepid effort made by state
institutions in order to shape or inculcate national symbols and myths
among the general public. Education and conscription in the army,
as France proved, were the most efficient socialization tools for
creating a patriotic identity. It is well known that it was through
the French revolutionary armies that patriotism received its baptism,
and that the Third Republic fought a battle against the Catholic
Church in order to control education. Nothing of this sort happened
in nineteenth-century Spain. As for education, governments felt afraid
of modern teachings (and not so modern: history, philosophy, literature
and even classical studies could be considered as a source of dangerous
republican thought). The Church had a virtual monopoly on education
and kept teaching at a very elementary level; and the Church, of
course, did not create "Spaniards" but "Catholics"-even
if that required teaching in Catalan or Basque, languages often identified
with Carlism, that is, with resistance to the intervention of Liberal
governments. In parallel with their dislike for state education, Spanish
rulers displayed a deep distrust of general conscription to the army.
The powerful conservative leader Cánovas del Castillo expressed his
opposition to military draft because, like general state education,
in his view it amounted to communism. Until 1911 there was no compulsory
military service, but a very flexible system riddled with exceptions,
especially for the well-to-do classes, who could simply pay for their
exemption from military duties. To "serve the fatherland"
was never perceived as a patriotic duty and an "honor,"
but as a burden that should fall on the shoulders of the laboring
The fact that, in spite of all these
problems, the collective identity of the Spanish monarchy created
during the early modern period resisted the challenges of modernity
proves, in the end, how strong it was. The Spanish monarchy, unlike
the Ottoman or the Austro-Hungarian empires, did not dissolve. Moreover,
throughout the very stormy nineteenth century, no significant force
challenged the existence of a Spanish nation or the unity of the Spanish
state; neither the Carlists, who waged the fiercest political struggles
of the century, nor even the federalists and Cantonalists during the
First Republic of 1873 made an issue of language or questioned the
Spanish identity. And yet, by
the end of the century, that identity was not exactly national in
a modern sense, but was identified with local traditions, nobiliary
values and attitudes and, above all, religion in more exclusive manner
than in most other Latin countries.
In order to
explain the strength of the Catholic traditional mind and its prevalence
over the more modern, and above all more national, liberalism in Spain
we should reflect upon the possible uses of nationalization efforts.
It is well known that nationalism can serve many different political
goals: to create or to split political entities; to democratize governments
or justify dictatorships; to socialize wealth or to preserve inherited
social structures; to advance modernization or to prevent it; to build
empires or to rebel against them, and so forth. Which of these were
the goals that an effort to reinforce and reshape the Spanish identity
in national terms could serve?
the first half of the nineteenth century, the most important efforts
to build a Spanish national mythology were made by the Liberal elites.
The nationalizing project was linked to a program of political and
social modernization, as it had been in its embryonic phase at the
time of the enlightened eighteenth-century reformers. But from the
end of the anti-Napoleonic war, this project was no longer supported
by an enlightened monarch, and the rhetoric of popular sovereignty,
to which it had been so closely tied during the war, was now forbidden.
The absolutist King Ferdinand VII and his ministers felt unmoved and
even threatened by the new national mythology and preferred to ignore
even the patriotic glories won in the recent war against the French.
The absence of public monuments or ceremonies commemorating those
events during his reign is striking, though understandable in view
of the connection between the anti-Napoleonic uprising and an anti-absolutist
revolution. National enthusiasm was only promoted by a revolutionary
elite (who called themselves "patriots"),
but they spent most of their time
imprisoned, living underground or in exile. After the death of this
last absolute monarch, a new opportunity seemed to appear for the
moderate Liberals, who supported the rights of the king's daughter
against the king's brother Don Carlos. The rhetoric of nationalism
returned, as it would do in all the brief periods dominated
by the progressive left. But Liberals had to fight three successive Carlist rebellions, in the course
of which the government's army was called "the Nationals,"
against Don Carlos's absolutist forces, the self-proclaimed "Catholics"
(el ejército católico). Apparently, all those wars ended in
a defeat for the Carlists, but there was always some kind of a compromise,
and after several decades of fruitless attempts to reshape the political
institutions and the culture of the country, Liberals had to accept
that they were an isolated minority in the midst of a rural and mostly
decades of disappointments, moderate Liberals reached a compromise
with the Catholic Church and the oligarchy, including the royal family,
who leaned more and more toward their old Carlist enemies. For the rest of the century, power
was most of the time in the hands of an oligarchic coalition of landed
nobility and newly enriched bourgeoisie who were deeply afraid of
nationalistic upheavals. To them, nationalism meant mass mobilization
and revolution; it meant a new kind of education that could sever
individuals from tradition, that is, from family, province and,
above all, religion. On the whole, Spanish rulers did not understand
that a modern political system needed a new kind of legitimacy, and
they chose to rely on the traditional dynastic-religious justification
of power, considering nationalism a dangerous tool. This means that,
apart from problems related to the lack of financial resources or
economic underdevelopment, governments also lacked the political determination
to integrate the country in national terms. In other European states,
some of the preexisting monarchies supported lay intellectuals in
this effort to create a national identity, and helped the
spread of national symbols among the masses. In Spain, nationalist
intellectuals were ignored or paid lip-service by government officials,
and they had to implement the task of nationalizing the masses without
government assistance. Thus, with the waning of the
Liberal utopia, the nationalist thrust lost the first goal with which
it had been associated.
If the internal
front offered such insurmountable difficulties, the international
sphere did not allow an easy outlet for nationalism as a mobilizing
ideology, either. Spain, as I have said, had hardly any international
conflict throughout the century. Its borders were not threatened,
and taking on the world's leading power to recover Gibraltar was out
of the question. The construction of an Iberian unitary state (the
Unión Ibérica) was an avowed goal of Spanish and Portuguese
revolutionaries and could have become a mobilizing and nationalizing
cause similar to German or Italian unification, but this ideal also
faded as did enthusiasm for the Liberal revolution. A third international
endeavor for which nationalism could be a mobilizing tool was colonialism,
the most popular cause in late-nineteenth-century Europe. Again, this
was a difficult road for Spanish rulers, since the Spanish empire,
unlike its robust European neighbors, was quickly disappearing. For
some time, such as the period led by Prime Minister Leopoldo O'Donnell
(1856-1863), Spanish elites felt compelled to follow other European
rulers in their frenetic carving up of the world. Several adventures
ended in relative disaster until O'Donnell's attention turned to the
dream of conquest in northern Africa. The Melilla war in 1859-1860,
pompously christened the "War of Africa," gave rise to the
greatest outpouring of patriotic rhetoric seen since the anti-Napoleonic
war. This was a singular occasion on which Liberal and Catholic nationalism
coincided in practice, as seen in the enthusiastic unanimous support
for the declaration of war by political parties of all allegiances.
Very telling in this regard are the parallels between the pastoral
letter with which the archbishop of Madrid saw the troops off to battle
and the resounding article published at the same time by the anticlerical
leftist politician Emilio Castelar, future president of the Spanish
Republic. "You are going into combat," said the archbishop,
"to fight against the infidels ... the enemies not just of your
queen and your fatherland but of your God and your religion."
"Soldiers," harangued Castelar, "your weapons carry
the sacred fire of the fatherland. Yours is the cause of civilization.
You have been chosen by heaven to fulfill its grand designs in modern
With the 1859-1860
war Spanish nationalism became a respectable enterprise for Catholic
conservative forces, until then unconcerned with buttressing their
goals with appeals to national identity. Patriotism was finally embraced
by the clergy and the absolutist elites who thus far had relied
on religion and tradition as their only legitimizing discourse. But,
in the end, imperialism would not be the main outlet for national
fervors in Spain. One has to remember that the Catholic Church most Spanish
middle classes felt identified with was at a low ebb in the second
half of the nineteenth century, barely resisting Italian unification
and "modern errors" such as positivism, liberalism, Darwinism
and Marxism. This was the antimodern attitude that would become almost
fused with Spanish national identity in conservative milieus, particularly
in the second half of the century. Furthermore, after the Carlist wars, anticlericalism
had become one of the most prominent features of the Liberal revolution.
Faced with this grave threat, the clergy, the main ideologues of conservatism,
found it useful to phrase the old identification of Spain with Catholicism
in modern national terms and combat Liberalism as an essentially anti-Spanish
ideology. After the 1868 revolution, a new threat to the established
order appeared under the name of workers' "internationalism."
The expediency of recourse to nationalism was clear, at that point,
and Spanish conservatives shifted their focus. Whereas in the 1830s
the Carlists would appeal to their followers as Catholics,
in the 1860s they could appeal to them as Spaniards, in the
understanding that there was an eternal link between the two identities.
In order to adapt their mythology
to the nationalistic era, traditional Catholic thinkers had to create,
in the second half of the century, a patriotic
historical canon opposed to the Liberal version which presaged the
future National-Catholicism. Often being the work of clerics, as I
have noted, it no doubt inherited many features of the old histories
of the Church, now intermingled with nationalist elements. It emerged
after Liberal histories, beginning in the 1860s, without any really
prominent author until Menéndez Pelayo in the 1880s. The common denominator
to all these conservative historians was Catholicism-or, to be precise,
"Catholic unity," that is, monolithic Catholicism, without
any room for non-Catholics in Spain-as the foundation of the Spanish
nationality and the political institution par excellence: the monarchy.
For if, as one of them wrote, "the monarchy and the clergy [are]
the two luminaries placed by the Almighty in the firmament,"
if one is forced to choose between the two heavenly bodies there is
no doubt as to which has priority. Nothing is more abrasive to these
authors than the intrusion into the ecclesiastic world by civil authorities.
The Muslim invasion of Spain, for instance, was a "divine punishment"
for the sins of the last Visigothic kings in their hateful attempts
to rein in the powerful bishops: "thus did vanish the Spanish
nation the moment the divine liberty of the Church was attacked."
The zenith of this union of crown and cross was in the reigns of Reccared
(the Visigoth king who switched allegiance from Arianism to Catholicism),
Ferdinand III (whence Saint Ferdinand), the Catholic Kings and, above
all, the Habsburg monarchs of Spain, "kings whose every act was
subordinated to religion, to which they submitted social life and
who stood before the world as genuine standard-bearers of Catholicism."
Thanks to such kings, Spain reached its political apogee, "favored
by invisible guardians." Conversely, "the Bourbon race,"
as some of these authors put it in clear offense to the reigning dynasty,
brought the end of "genuinely Christian Spanish policies, [because]
basing themselves on the sophistic distinction between politics and
religion, [they] only pursued worldly interests"; Charles III,
the enlightened regalist king, "recklessly opened the doors of
the kingdom to revolution."
This conservative animosity toward the Bourbon mirrors the Liberals'
distaste for the Habsburg, no doubt one of the fundamental lines of
division between Liberal and Catholic-conservative historiography.
The best summary of this version
of Spanish history ise the famous concluding lines of Menéndez Pelayo's
Historia de los heterodoxos españoles:
were probably not destined to form a great nation because of the land
we live on, nor because of our race, nor because or our character....
Only common religion can provide a people with its own, specific life,
with the consciousness of a strong unanimity; only religion can legitimate
and found the laws.... Without a common God, a common altar, common
sacrifices, without praying to the same Father and being reborn in
a common sacrament, how can a People be great and strong?... Christianity
gave its unity to Spain.... Thanks to it, we have been a Nation, even
a great Nation, and not a multitude of individuals.
Around this mixture of nationalist
feelings and religious faith, several centennials were celebrated
in the 1880s and 1890s, from the second of playwright
Pedro Calderón de la Barca's death in 1881 to the thirteenth centennial
of "Spain's conversion to Catholicism" in 1889, or the fourth
of the then called "discovery of America" in 1892. On such
occasions, the patria was increasingly invoked, at first as
a natural companion of religion, then as the primary loyalty.
Catholic ideologues thus transformed this conservative version of
Spanish nationalism into a mobilizing tool, thereby finding the way
to reconcile themselves with mass politics and the parliamentary system.
The new path would have a very promising future.
These two rival
versions of the national identity would compete throughout the rest
of the century in recurring controversies, a continuation of debates
already initiated in the eighteenth century. The difference was that
the two models were now formally set in place, and even came to be
known as "the two Spains," an accurate expression referring
to alternative national mythologies (and their respective political
projects), although more questionable as a social dichotomy. As unifying
ideals, both projects were seriously hampered. The National-Catholics
were much too closely linked to the administration of the Catholic
Church, and to local and nobiliary powers, instead of to the state.
Moreover, their view of Spain's past was inherently repellent to modernizing
elites. As is typical of all nationalisms, debates over Spain's past
in which these rival definitions of the nation took part in the last
analysis involved a conflict of attitudes toward its role in the modern
world. For National-Catholics, Spain should remain "ever Spain,"
that is, the bulwark of a traditional religious-hierarchical scale
of values. For Liberal-Progressives, Spain's survival and prosperity
hinged on its ability to salvage its finest democratic traditions,
mistreated in recent centuries by foreign-inspired absolutism. Although
their program was probably more suited to the tasks of modern nation-building,
the Liberals, as we have already seen, failed to win support for its
The impasse in which Spanish nationalism
found itself by the end of the nineteenth century experienced an unexpected
shock with the Spanish-American war of 1898, which led to the independence
of Cuba and the other remaining territories of the empire. The isolation
of the Spanish government and the impotence of the navy in that war
was seen in Spain as a demonstration of inherent problems of the country
and even the "race." The 1898 defeat was seen by many as
the complete collapse of the nation, unable to compare itself with
the expanding European powers of the period. In the ensuing political
crisis, not only the institutions of the oligarchic parliamentary
monarchy, but the very idea of "Spain" came under criticism.
The old patriotic rhetoric was clearly obsolete, and an enormous body
of literature on the "Spanish problem" was produced, mainly
centered on the question of Spain's "racial decadence,"
based on its inability to cope with the modern world. Proposals of
transformation of the Spanish "way of being" (forcing
the Spanish people to acquire pragmatic values, industriousness,
love of science) were advanced; this is what was meant by the "Europeanization"
of the country (a word still widely used in the Spanish political
vocabulary). It was at that moment when an intense, even hectic, period
of the nation-building process in Castilian-Spanish terms began. Nationalism
linked to the cause of internal reform reappeared under the name of
regenerationism. But the Catholic conservatives also accepted the
need for regeneration, that is, for some modernizing reforms,
to place the nation-state on a competitive footing internationally.
identification with the idea of "España" in the
aftermath of the Spanish-American war also led to the emergence of
Basque and Catalan nationalisms as political forces. The Barcelona
province and the Bilbao area were precisely the only industrial areas
within the still overwhelmingly agrarian and rural Spain, and this
uneven economic growth of the country helped to create the image of
Catalonia and the Basque Country as advanced, European islands in
a sea of backwardness. It was in those regions that nationalist movements
finally emerged after the 1898 defeat. Perhaps it should be underlined
here that the link between seceding nationalistic movements and economic
circumstances is in Spain almost exactly the opposite to the well-known
model of economic deprivation or frustration or to the colonial model
of economic exploitation of oppressed nationalities by a metropolitan
center. In Spain, alternative nationalisms grew in two industrialized
peripheral regions that resented their political subjection to an
underdeveloped center. The Galician case would be an excellent counterexample:
a typically underdeveloped and "colonized" or economically
dependent region, where nevertheless no strong nationalist movement
has developed until very recently.
of those threatening "separatist" movements finally provided
Spanish nationalism with a cause to serve: the purely reactionary
one of being the unifying ideology for all those opposed, not only
to liberal or social revolution, but also to Catalan and Basque autonomy.
The 1880s centennials had only been the beginning of an association
between nationalism and antirevolutionary attitudes. In the 1910s
and 1920s this association would grow, in the context of new African
wars and José Antonio Primo de Rivera's dictatorship. And it would
prove to be of enormous importance in the vast National-Catholic mobilization
against the Second Republic in the 1930s. As ideological support
of the Francoist regime, it would survive well into the second half
of the twentieth century. It was then, with Francoism, that the most
determined effort of nationalization in Castilian-Spanish terms was
carried out. But it was too late and too brutal. The link between
"Spanishness" and backwardness, dictatorship and European
exceptionality would give a bitter flavor to the idea and the symbols
of Spain. Present traits of the Spanish national problem, especially
in the Basque case, are a direct offspring of the dictatorship.
The general conclusion to be drawn
from the above is that Spanish identity is old and, on the whole,
has been a considerable success. Of course, this does not mean that
this identity has always been of a "national" kind. On the
contrary, its problems have arisen only in the last hundred years,
after a lackluster performance during the age of nationalisms. This
is because processes of "nationalization of the masses"
(usually studied in relation to the new nation-states formed in the
nineteenth century, such as Germany or Italy in Europe, or immigration
countries such as Argentina or the USA outside Europe) were also necessary
for old traditional European monarchies if they were to survive as
modern nation-states. A successful example of these ethnicization
processes was, of course, republican France, thoroughly studied by
Eugen Weber. Well-known failures were
the Austro-Hungarian or the Ottoman empires. Spain was a middle-of-the-road
case: an old traditional monarchy which survived, but under political
and economic circumstances that made its effort to nationalize the
masses weak and insufficient. Spain lost the remnants of the empire
at the precise moment when other European powers were dominating the
world; financial problems and constant revolutions questioning the
legitimacy of the state doomed it to inefficiency; Spanish rulers
were unable to set up a schooling system or a military service. And
yet, in spite of all that, challenging nationalisms hardly existed
until the aftermath of the 1898 crisis, when both Basque and Catalan
nationalisms appeared as political forces. They would, of course,
reappear in the twentieth century, particularly in two periods. The
first one was the political crisis of the 1930s, with the Second Republic
and Civil War, when Catalanism came to be one of the crucial factors
on the political scene. The second, and most important, was from the
1960s onward, that is, under late Francoism and the period of the
transition to democracy, when both Catalan and Basque nationalisms
acquired strong popular backing, and a violent independentist group
appeared in the Basque Country.
The origins of the present confrontation,
therefore, seem to lie in the weak process of nationalization that
the country underwent throughout the nineteenth century. Of course,
we could date the problem earlier and say that the weakness of the
Liberal revolution was also linked to the isolation of modernizing
elites, due to the dominance of the Catholic antimodern identity inculcated
among the rural masses during the early modern period. But on the
whole it seems fair to conclude that modern problems, and not old
regime problems, are the key to twentieth-century struggles for and
against a "Spanish" national identity. Both central and
peripheral nationalisms are relatively recent phenomena, the Spanish
one basically created in the early nineteenth century and its contenders
almost one hundred years later, although both think of their referential
national entities as very old, almost eternal, realities. The period
when Spanish nationalism should have been spread and inculcated among
the population coincided with a stage when the state was suffering
weakness and disrepute. Weakness again was the dominant feature during
the tough 1930s confrontation. And general disrepute marked the end
of Francoism, when Spanish identity finally entered an apparently
deadly crisis. All this seems to suggest that a political factor,
the state's strength or weakness, has been the major cause for the
emergence of challenging identities.
It should be underlined that in the
last 25 years this factor has apparently disappeared. The transition
to democracy after Franco's death was a success, and the present parliamentary
democracy is stable. Spain is gaining some ground as an international
power, it is a respected member of the European Union and NATO, and
pride in Spanish identity seems to be growing. Spain is no longer
an underdeveloped country, and specifically Madrid is no longer the
underdeveloped region where the political center is located, confronted
with two industrialized peripheral areas. A very serious process of
devolution of powers to the regions has taken place, making the Spanish
state one of the most decentralized in Europe. Once a country of emigration,
both to Latin America and to central Europe, Spain is now facing problems
resulting from a massive influx of African and Latin American immigrants.
All these recent factors radically alter the picture. This time, history
does not seem to be the key to the future. The future is not only
open, as always, but more open than ever.
 Peter Sahlins, Boundaries:
The Making of France and Spain in the Pyrenees (Berkeley, 1991).
 Article 12. Emphasis added.
 José Alvarez Junco "La
invención de la Guerra de la Independencia," Studia Historica, 12 (1994): 75-99.
On Godoy and Ferdinand,
see Richard Herr, "Good, Evil and Spain's Rising against Napoleon,"
in Richard Herr and Howard T. Parker, eds., Ideas in History
(Durham, NC, 1965), 157-81.
 See Capmany´s Centinela
contra Franceses, London, Tamesis Books, 1988, with an excellent
introduction by François Étienvre.
 See Carolyn P. Boyd,
Historia Patria: Politics, History and National Identity in Spain,
1875-1975 (Princeton, 1997).
 José Alvarez Junco, Mater
Dolorosa: La idea de España en el siglo XIX (Madrid,
2001), pp. 214-226.
 G. Mosse, The Nationalization
of the Masses. Political Symbolism and Mass Movements in Germnay
form the Napoleonic Wars through the Third Reich (Cornell, 1975).
 See Leandro Prados de la
Escosura, De Estado a Nación. Crecimiento y atraso económico en
España (1780-1930) (Madrid, Alianza, 1988), or David Ringrose, Spain,
Europe and the "Spanish Miracle," 1700-1900 (Cambridge,
 Quoted, for instance,
by Benito Pérez Galdós in his well-known "Episodio Nacional"
Cánovas, chapter XI.
 E. Gellner, Nations
and Nationalism (Cornell, 1983).
 José Alvarez Junco, "The Nation-Building
Process in Nineteenth-Century Spain," in Clare Mar-Molinero
and Angel Smith, eds., Nationalism and the Nation in the Iberian
Peninsula: Competing and Conflicting Identities (Oxford and
Washington DC, 1996), 89-106.
 Emilio Castelar, in La
Discusión, 18 October 1859; "Carta pastoral" by the
Archbishop, dated 2 November 1859, printed in all national newspapers
the following day.
 José Alvarez Junco, Mater
 Marcelino. Menéndez Pelayo,
Historia de los heterodoxos españoles (Madrid, Biblioteca
de Autores Cristianos, 1967), 2:1036-38.
 See Alvarez Junco, Mater
 E. Weber, Peasants
into Frenchmen. The Modernization of Rural France, 1870-1914