Peter II of Catalonia and the Canigou

Quin abast històric té el relat que apareix a la “Cronica Fratris Salimbene di Adam Ordinis Minorum” la qual en dona fe d’una hipotètica ascensió del rei En Pere II el Gran al cim del Canigó, l’any 1285? I quina relació hi ha entre aquesta narració i la revolta popular esdevinguda a Sicília la primavera de 1282, coneguda com les vespres sicilianes?

A finals del segle XIII, el vell frare franciscà Salimbene d’Adam o de Parma (1221-1290), reclòs en el monestir de Montefalcone (Itàlia), tot realitzant un acte de memòria, redacta les seves impressions personals sobre la seva atzarosa vida. No es tracta d’un cronista apocalíptic, sinó profètic. No proposa una visió tremendista del seu món, sinó que narra uns fets per a la seva posterior reflexió. La seva “Cronica Fratris Salimbene di Adam Ordinis Minorum” escrita entre 1283 i 1290, és una mica de tot: autobiogràfica, història de l’orde, història de les ciutats del nord d’Itàlia, crònica universal del temps de Frederic II Hohenstaufen “stupor mundi” o diari de viatges a França i Itàlia.  

L’origen del mite

La tardor del 1889, G. Uzielle publicava dins del “Bollettino” del Club Alpí Italià un extens article titulat: “Leonardo da Vinci e le Alpi”. Aquest treball estava complementat per tres apèndixs, el tercer dels quals responia al títol: “Ascensione di Pietro III d’Aragona al Canigou”. De fet, es tracta d’un fragment (pàg. 354 – 355 de la primera edició) de la cèlebre crònica d’en Salimbene d’Adam. 

La primera edició moderna de la crònica es va realitzar dins de l’obra “Monumenta Historica ad provincias Parmensem et Placentinensem pertinentia, III” (Parma, 1857). La segona edició, més completa i elegant, fou dirigida per Oswald Holder-Egger i la podem trobar al “Monumenta Germania Historica: Scriptores, llibre XXXII” (Hanover, 1906). Així doncs, la importància de Salimbene d’Adam pel Pirineisme es deu al foli 459 (pàg. 597 – 599 de la segona edició) que duu per nom: “Sobre la mort del rei Pere d’Aragó”.

El context en el qual apareix l’article d’Uzielle al “Bollettino” italià és el context en el qual s’està a punt de materialitzar la gran obra del Pirineisme escrita per Henri Beraldi: “Cent ans aux Pyrénées”. Amb l’edició d’aquesta magna obra —set volums en total— es comença a edificar el corpus de coneixements que posteriorment coneixerem com a Pirineisme el qual es tracta d’una barreja entre la pràctica esportiva combinada amb l’emoció estètica i cultural, sempre desenvolupada dins la serralada dels Pirineus. D’alguna manera, el Pirineisme va ser creat com l’antagònic a l’Alpinisme perquè aquest només representava la pràctica esportiva.  

Beraldi, com a bibliòfil empedreït, crea tot aquest món; rescata personatges del passat: De Carbonnières, Russell, Cadier, Passet, els enginyers geodèsics, Brulle o Lister, etc. Els grans mites de les grans gestes pirinenques hi són presents. Però la cosa no acaba aquí. Cap a 1911, Beraldi signa un article titulat “Tentative de Pierre III au Canigou”, publicat a “Le passé du Pyrénéisme”, on escriu: “Finalment, ens trobem davant d’un primer fet ben caracteritzat d’alpinisme. Pujar per pujar, per conquerir un cim. Tres anys després de les Vespres Sicilianes. Ascensió per Vallmanya o Taurinyà, ascensió dels Cortalets seguida fins al clot dels Estanyols, un lloc molt impressionant amb un temps fosc; sobrevinguda brusca d’una broma negra. Amb poques paraules, temptativa al Canigó el 1285.”

Així doncs, arran d’aquests dos articles i de posteriors treballs més actuals, la historiografia situa com a primera ascensió al cim d’una muntanya la protagonitzada pel rei En Pere II el Gran l’any 1285, al cim del Canigó. Com veurem, el foli 459 de la crònica de Salimbene d’Adam ha estat erròniament interpretat com a verídic, quan en realitat és un tractament metafòric de les disputes de poder entre dos reis —Pere de Catalunya i Carles d’Anjou— i dos territoris, Catalunya i França.

La tessitura a la qual Salimbene d’Adam escriu la seva crònica es realitza dins d’un context molt particular. I és per això que cal analitzar tot el text de la crònica amb rigor i contextualitzar el succés narrat dins d’ella amb la mentalitat social i política del segle XIII. La mirada del present cap al passat s’ha de fer amb ulls crítics perquè, si no ho fem, estem condemnats a deformar la realitat històrica.   

Per tant, tot el que estigui fora d’aquesta línia de treball —rigorositat i contextualització— genera un debat estèril. La principal tasca de l’historiador és crear coneixement i, per a fer-ho possible, no hem de desvincular els esdeveniments ni del seu espai ni del seu temps. Perquè això no succeeixi, tenim al nostre abast un conjunt d’eines —documents, cròniques, anals, cronologies, restes arqueològics, història oral— que ens ajudaran a apropar-nos amb la transparència possible a l’estudi del passat. Però això no acaba aquí. Així doncs, apareix la segona norma que hem de seguir: la lectura de la documentació. La simple lectura no ens porta enlloc, sinó tan sols a la distorsió històrica. Per tant, cal saber llegir entre línies. I aquest és l’error el qual es pretén reparar.

Una mirada rere la crònica

Per a comprendre el rerefons que amaga la crònica de Salimbene d’Adam sobre la narració del Canigó, hem de realitzar un doble esforç: per una banda, hem d’entendre el context sociopolític en la qual fou redactada la crònica i, per l’altre, hem d’analitzar pacientment els successos esdevinguts entre 1280 i 1285. Aquests cinc anys són la clau que ens permetrà desemmascarar el mite.     

El foli 459, apartat A, comença amb el significatiu títol: “De la mort de Pere, rei d’Aragó”. Malgrat aquest inici, Salimbene ja ens ho adverteix en el foli 445, apartat B, quan ens comenta: “Coneixent per avançat, que en menys d’un any, quatre il·lustres personatges, seran lliurades a la mort per voluntat de Déu, allí on es troba el sepulcre de tot vivent” seguit de “El primer serà el rei Carles, el segon el papa Martí, el tercer Felip, rei de França, el quart Pere, rei d’Aragó.” Així doncs, el rei En Pere d’Aragó (de Catalunya) serà la quarta persona rellevant del panorama polític internacional de l’època que passà a millor vida durant aquell any de 1285. 

Recordant el que s’escriu anteriorment, Salimbene comença el text dient-nos que “De la mateixa manera, en el present mil·lenni, durant la vetlla del beat Martí, Pere, rei d’Aragó, va tancar, va concloure amb la seva pròpia mort, el darrer dia; en aquest, el menor dels germans, el guardià que el va escoltar en confessió; fou enterrat a Vila-Nova, en el mateix lloc que els germans menors.” Efectivament, el rei En Pere II de Catalunya va morir la nit del 10 a l’11 de novembre de 1285 —diada de Sant Martí— a Vilafranca del Penedès, encara que el cronista escrigui Villa-nova. De fet, ja feia unes setmanes que havia caigut greument malalt mentre es dirigia cap a Salou per embarcar-se direcció a Mallorca, per arreglar les qüestions familiars amb el seu germà Jaume, donat que aquest havia pres part activa en favor de la croada francesa contra ell rei En Pere. Feia una mica més d’un mes —l’1 d’octubre— que l’exercit del rei En Pere havia vençut les tropes croades al Coll de Panissars.

Les vespres sicilianes 

Però els conflictes no només es reduïen a qüestions familiars. A l’origen de la croada s’hi trobava la qüestió siciliana. Veient-se la mort de prop i sota pressió, el rei En Pere va demanar que Sicília tornés a l’Església i va demanar “enviar una ambaixada al papa Honori —quart—, per a obtenir concòrdia entre els fills de Pere d’Aragó i els fills de França que es comentava que eren consanguinis” i així resoldre el conflicte polític. 

Finalment, el darrer problema que havia de solucionar —arran de la croada francesa— era la qüestió castellà per la Regió de Múrcia. Però ni els problemes familiars, ni la qüestió siciliana i, ni de bon tros, els problemes amb Castella pogué fer-se’n càrrec, ja que la malaltia va posar fi a la seva vida.

El foli 459, apartat B, comença amb el suggerent títol: “Sobre la recomanació de Pere, rei d’Aragó, que queda evidenciat amb un exemple del que s’ha exposat amb anterioritat”. Aquest exemple és el que més controvèrsia ha suscitat dins del panorama historiogràfic.

Salimbene d’Adam ens presenta el protagonista de la seva narració, elogiant-lo de manera heroica “Aquest rei Pere d’Aragó fou un home de gran cor, un fort soldat, i savi en la guerra” i demostrada per mitjà d’actes passats. “Doncs aquest home tingué una gran audàcia, i molta empenta”, i més concretament pel “… que es fa palès en l’empresa del regne de Sicília, que contra el rei Carles —d’Anjou— i el papa Martí —quart— es va atrevir a envair-los.” Al llarg de tota la crònica, Salimbene d’Adam ens descriu detalladament tot aquest afer. De fet, el tema sicilià serà un dels grans conflictes del segle XIII. A l’origen del conflicte s’hi troba la qüestió de qui ha de posseir l’illa. L’interès sobre Sicília es deu, principalment, a què l’illa és el graner de la Mediterrània i la clau de la ruta del comerç cap a orient.

Carles d’Anjou havia cercat projectar la seva persona per tota la Mediterrània per mitjà d’una nova croada. Amb la intenció de donar un cop d’efecte als seus adversaris, projectava un nou saqueig sobre Constantinoble, reproduint els esquemes de la quarta croada (1204). Però la situació es va torçar quan el sud italià s’enfrontà obertament a la seva política personal. Els sicilians havien començat a comprendre que la seva projecció com a república —similar a la de Gènova o Venècia— estava en greu perill. Aquest debat, Carles no el va entendre i va preferir destruir tal iniciativa.

Seguint la política insular del seu pare —el rei En Jaume el Conqueridor—, el 30 d’agost de 1282 un poderós estol català comandat pel rei En Pere va desembarcar a les costes de Sicília —concretament a Trapani—, provinent de la costa tunisenca d’Al-Coll, on hi havia anat a ajudar el seu vassall i aliat Abu-Bekr, senyor de Constantina. Un cop a Sicília, el rei En Pere es dirigirà cap a Palerm per ser coronat rei el 27 de setembre de 1282. La seva presència allí no era gratuïta: la seva esposa era Constança de Sicília, neta de Frederic II Hohenstaufen “stupor mundi”. Amb aquest acte, el rei En Pere reivindicava la memòria del passat de la família Hohenstaufen a l’illa, el passat que havia intentat esborrar la política de Carles d’Anjou. Els sicilians estaven convençuts que aquesta —la catalana— era la millor opció i la més encertada per a forjar el seu projecte. És per això que els sicilians, el 31 de març de 1282, s’havien alçat en armes contra el domini francès a l’illa. Aquest fet fou conegut com la revolta de les vespres sicilianes.

El conflicte va posar en escac la política de Carles, conduint-lo a una situació tensa. La negativa del rei En Pere d’abandonar Sicília el va conduir a dos nous horitzons: la disputa bèl·lica contra Carles i la disputa legal contra el papa. D’ambdues en va sortir victoriós. Mentre que a Carles el va esclafar a Nicotera —Calàbria— a les forces del papa les va destrossar a Panissars.

Un exemple per l’audiència 

Salimbene ens explica que per a demostrar tot això, posarà un altre exemple sobre la valentia demostrada pel rei En Pere: “Evident, encara que seguit d’un altre exemple, amb això que clarament exposem”. Cal dir que a l’edat mitjana era molt normal recórrer a exemples fantàstics, impossibles de realitzar pels mortals, un terreny reservat tan sols per als herois. La finalitat de l’exemple és captar millor l’atenció del lector, com així ha estat. Aquest recurs de ficcionar un episodi per reforçar la imatge d’un rei valent no és un cas aïllat en la literatura medieval. Per exemple, en la tradició francesa, es troben històries similars sobre Carlemany i la seva llegendària ascensió als Pirineus, on es diu que va rebre una revelació divina sobre la seva missió a Hispània. Aquesta narració simbolitza la seva campanya per expandir el cristianisme i el seu paper com a defensor de la fe. De la mateixa manera, també es poden trobar paral·lelismes amb Ricard Cor de Lleó i les seves aventures a Terra Santa, així les novel·les cavalleresques franceses, situa l’heroi dins d’un espai d’incertesa —d’aventura— com és el bosc, per reafirmar el seu poder i coratge.

Salimbene ens situa el seu exemple en un espai concret “En els confins de Provença i d’Hispània” i ens presenta l’objectiu “s’aixeca una alta muntanya, que la gent del país l’anomena Mont Canigó” i l’envolta de misteri “encara que nosaltres podríem anomenar-la Mont Tenebrós.” Atès que el protagonista de l’exemple és el rei català, Salimbene, segurament va optar per escollir un espai geogràfic del territori del rei.

Des de temps llunyans, el Canigó havia estat considerada com la muntanya més alta de la serralada dels Pirineus, impossible d’arribar-hi. Però per si no havia quedat prou clar que l’empresa és molt arriscada, recorre a una descripció geogràfica que li ofereix el gram geògraf grec del segle II, Ptolemaeus d’Alexandria a la seva “Geographia” el qual va recollir observacions empíriques que permetien identificar punts de referència geogràfics rellevants per a la navegació: “Doncs, aquesta muntanya que els mariners veuen primer a l’arribada, després de partir és el darrer punt que podem veure, perquè quan ha desaparegut, cap altre és visible.” D’aquesta manera, l’objectiu impossible ha quedat fixat. Malgrat haver tingut alguns problemes interns, com ara les guerres amb els sarraïns, la revolta dels barons o els problemes familiars, la política insular iniciada pel rei En Pere arran del seu casori amb Constança de Sicília —el 13 de juny de 1262— ja no tindrà fre. El rei En Pere seguirà la seva política fins a les darreres conseqüències, encara que això esdevingui una qüestió personal.

Després d’emfasitzar sobre la perillositat de l’empresa plantejada pel rei En Pere, el cronista continua escrivint: “Mai cap home hi ha habitat, ni cap fill d’home s’ha atrevit a pujar-hi a causa de la seva alçada extraordinària, per la dificultat de l’itinerari i per l’esforç”. Malgrat haver tingut alguns recels importants a l’interior del reialme, sobretot per part de l’Església sobre les seves intencions d’envair Sicília, el rei En Pere va persistir en la idea inicial i va decidir tirar endavant amb l’aventura. En un primer moment, el rei En Pere comptarà amb el suport polític de dos importants aliats: Castella i Constantinoble. És per això que Salimbene ens diu: “Doncs bé, Pere d’Aragó havent decidit a pujar a la muntanya va cridar al seu costat a dos cavallers, amics íntims, que ell honrava amb el seu afecte, cosa que li prometeren no separar-se mai d’ell.”

Com ja hem dit abans, la campanya de Sicília va començar el 30 d’agost de 1282. Un cop iniciada, aturar-la era quasi impossible, malgrat l’excomunicació papal del 9 de novembre de 1282. En aquest punt, Salimbene ens parla que “Mentre pujaven sentiren trons espantosos i del tot terribles sentiren trons espantosos i del tot terribles” fins que els seus companys “caigueren a terra, morts de por sota el pes de la por i de l’espant d’allò que els havia vingut” que malgrat els esforços del rei En Pere per a restituir la situació, els dos companys “fins a perdre el coratge.” En realitat, les dues aliances que havia signat amb Castella i Constantinoble mai arribaren a fer-se efectives. Per altra banda, vist que l’excomunicació papal no havia donat resultats, el papa va lliurar els regnes del rei En Pere a qualsevol príncep cristià que els volgués conquerir. Per això, el 27 d’agost de 1283 l’oferia al rei de França i el 27 de febrer de 1284 —en una cerimònia celebrada a París— donava la investidura a Felip III de França, l’Ardit. Des d’aquell moment, la croada començava a dibuixar-se. Malgrat tot això, el rei En Pere va continuar amb la seva empresa.

El desafiament de Bordeus 

Però hi ha un fet que encara honra més la figura del rei Pere. Al foli 427, Salimbene ens explica amb gran detall el famós desafiament de Bordeus. Carles d’Anjou havia comunicat, per mitjà d’una ambaixada al rei En Pere, que aquest no havia estat cavalleresc i que havia entrat a Sicília sense raó. Per tant, aquesta qüestió l’havien de solucionar cavallerosament —o sigui, a cops d’espasa— i per aquest motiu se citaren per l’1 de juny de 1283 a la ciutat de Bordeus amb la finalitat de solucionar la qüestió siciliana. Ràpidament, el rei En Pere, s’adonà que es tractava d’una maniobra de distracció del rei francès per allunyar-lo i matar-lo lluny del seu regne —com li havia succeït al seu avi a Muret— cosa que l’alertà a marxar prematurament de Bordeus. I preveient la imminent invasió de Catalunya per les trobes croades del papa i del rei francès, el rei En Pere va demanar ajuda als seus aliats. La negativa fou total i al rei En Pere no li va quedar cap altre remei que afrontar la situació tot sol. És per motiu que Salimbene ens diu que davant d’aquest fet “Pere va decidir pujar amb grans dificultats tot sol.”

Així doncs, el rei En Pere va disposar el seu exèrcit —per tal de barrar al pas a les tropes croades— en els principals colls de la serra de l’Albera: Panissars, Pertús i Banyuls. Malgrat els intents dels croats per passar-hi, les tropes del rei En Pere van poder frenar els intents. Però va ser l’abat de Sant Pere de Rodes qui va mostrar a les tropes croades el pas del Coll de la Maçana —prop el castell de Requesens—, la qual cosa els va permetre travessar l’Albera —12 de juny de 1285— i arribar ràpidament fins a Girona per posar-hi setge. Després d’uns mesos d’intensos combats —terrestres i navals— les tropes catalanes venceren les tropes croades. Potser, de totes elles, la coneguda és la batalla del Coll de Panissars de l’1 d’octubre de 1285. 

El doble sentit de la crònica

I ara entrem en la qüestió més delirant de la narració. Salimbene ens explica que “I quan fou al cim de la muntanya —el rei En Pere—, hi va trobar un llac” i en veure’l “aquell lloc, hi va tirar una pedra. Aleshores sortir un drac horrible, de gran dimensió que es va posar a volar per tot l’aire que omplia d’ombres i que l’enfosquia amb el seu alè. Després —d’aquest succés— el rei En Pere va iniciar el descens.”

Aquest és el fragment on rau la gran metàfora que amaga el text de Salimbene per explicar el regnat d’En Pere II el Gran. La política insular del rei En Pere el va conduir a fitxar com a objectiu principal Sicília (el llac); després de temptejar la zona amb les campanyes de Tunísia, finalment hi ha el desembarcament a Trapani (tira la pedra); el papa Martí IV l’excomunica i posa tot els seus regnes sota la jurisdicció del rei francès (surt un gran i horrible drac); els francesos envaeixen Catalunya seguint la proclama de la croada dictaminada per la Santa Seu (el cel s’enfosqueix amb l’alè del drac); finalment, el rei En Pere surt victoriós de Bordeus i de la croada contra Catalunya (inicia el descens).

Finalitzada la seva aventura, Salimbene li reconeix els seus mèrits i les compara amb les empreses realitzades pel gran heroi llatí: Alexandre el gran. És per això que Salimbene ens diu: “Segons jo —Salimbene—, la gesta de Pere d’Aragó es pot comparar amb les gestes d’Alexandre, que amb moltes terribles empreses i gestes es va esforçar per a merèixer els elogis de la posteritat.”

La fi del mite

La figura del rei En Pere II el Gran de Catalunya no deixa de ser interessant pels esdeveniments que són lligats a ella. No es va astorar davant de tantes adversitats, arribant a meravellar als seus adversaris. Va saber afrontar el seu repte i el va superar. I aquesta és la seva metàfora; la seva existència personal. I aquesta és la mirada que recull Salimbene a la seva crònica. És per això que el context en la qual apareix la figura del rei En Pere II de Catalunya (d’Aragó) dins la crònica és sempre relatiu a la problemàtica siciliana. Aquesta qüestió, Salimbene la descriu d’una manera clara, descrivint l’evolució des de l’època de l’emperador Frederic II Hohenstaufen “stupor mundi”, passant pel període del rei Manfred i Carles d’Anjou fins a arribar al rei En Pere II de Catalunya.

Salimbene intueix que el rei En Pere II el Gran de Catalunya —igual que ho serà Carles d’Anjou— serà un dels personatges rellevants del panorama polític del segle XIII. Ho creu perquè coneix de primera mà els esdeveniments. Sap que el rei En Pere va haver de recórrer un llarg camí i va haver d’afrontar-se a tota mena de penalitats per assolir el seu objectiu final. És per això que Salimbene, reconeixent-li la seva tenacitat i la seva convicció de si mateix, ens mostra una certa simpatia vers el rei català. I per aquesta raó no ens ha d’estranyar la lloança metafòrica que realitza a la seva crònica un cop s’assabenta que el rei ha mort.

El problema —com sempre— rau en la mirada amb la qual ens apropem al passat. Des d’un punt de vista rigorós, tothom sap que l’existència d’un llac al cim d’una muntanya és més que improbable, perquè si així fos estaríem desafiant a les lleis de la física. És de sentit comú. Per no parlar sobre l’existència de dracs. Si neguem aquestes dues premisses, el nostre pensament com a historiadors ens ha de situar enfront d’una pregunta clau: Què ens intenta explicar el cronista a través de la seva narració? 

En canvi, si no realitzem aquest petit esforç i reconduïm la narració fictícia cap a la realitat, amb la finalitat de donar-li veracitat, ens endinsem per un camí molt perillós. Malgrat això, hom s’hi ha endinsat. És per això que trobem datacions a l’acció que narra en Salimbene. Ni el 1276, i encara menys el 1285 són possibles. No ho són perquè mai va existir l’aventura del Canigó, encara que la idea romàntica d’un feudal davant la muntanya sigui tan suggerent: La veritable aventura fou Sicília. El Pirineisme comença quan l’home té curiositat per entendre la realitat i es llança a l’aventura de l’observació, però… això són figues d’un altre paner. 

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Is there something magical about Halloween? Do we celebrate La Castanyada like those who celebrate Halloween in Anglo-Saxon countries? Do we worship death or life? Celebrating autumn with ‘panellets’, chestnuts and sweet potatoes may have more to do with our agricultural past than we think.

The genetic and cultural process that humans underwent five million years ago enabled us to transform objects into utensils, a fact that allowed us to adapt more effectively to different climates. Mobility was key to our survival. But about 10,000 years ago, this nomadism was altered by an even more revolutionary discovery: agriculture. 

The ability to produce one’s own food meant that we settled in areas suitable for cultivation and, at the same time, allowed us to keep wild herds in stables to ensure protein for the whole year. These primitive sedentary societies were conditioned forever by an agricultural and livestock calendar. It was then that the first evidence of the worship of gods, goddesses and ancestors appeared. 

And what does all this have to do with Halloween? Well, anthropology has studied in depth how there is a pattern, a belief, that is common in the origin of the festivity in an infinite number of cultures all over the world. Their starting point is always the same: the celebration of the birth of a period of darkness that extends into a period of light. This is how we find festivities such as the Roman Pomona, the Celtic Samhain or the Basque Udazkena. 

Likewise, Samhain or Udazkena marked the beginning of the agricultural calendar when fields and lands became barren — similar to when talking about the deceased — until the arrival of spring, when life flourished again. Thus, the start of a new cycle of life. These pagan beliefs practised by the inhabitants of the ‘pagus’ — the peasants — remained deeply rooted for millennia until the irruption of Christianity in the 1st century.

The Catholic world appropriates pagan traditions

The beginning of the end of paganism came with Pope Boniface IV, who in 610 consecrated the Roman Pantheon of Agrippa, which until then had been dedicated to the pagan cult of Jupiter. Taking advantage of this fact, he instituted a feast commemorating all the unknown and anonymous saints of Christianity, which was celebrated on 13 May. 

But it was not until the middle of the 9th century, following the Carolingian Renaissance, that 

what we know as All Saints’ Day was definitively established throughout the medieval West. The papal encyclical of Gregory IV in 840 promulgated the definitive Christianisation of all the territories of the empire and forced the substitution of pagan festivals, such as Samhain or those of Pomona, for All Saints’ Day, changing the date of celebration to 1 November. For centuries, the Catholic world continued its policy of supplanting pagan ancestral traditions with church events, while in the Anglo-Saxon world, where Protestantism was pre-eminent, this pressure was relaxed. 

Today, we observe that while All Saints’ Day is more of a dark, sad, secluded day, Halloween — All Hallow’s Eve — is festive, sweet, funny and, yes, greatly amplified by the American propaganda machine. As for the rest of the world, such as the Philippines or Mexico, and especially in the wake of Pixar’s film ‘Coco’, the holiday is even more festive: not only the graves of the deceased are visited, but a family picnics are held around them, where masks and coloured ribbons are used, while special dishes are cooked.

In Catalonia, joy and severity

As for our culture, according to the folklorist and ethnologist Joan Amades in his well-known ‘Costumari català’ (Salvat Editors, 1982), All Saints’ Day has two very different faces: the joyful and festive one in the morning and the rigorous and severe one in the afternoon. This is because, as Amades recalls, there is a belief that, just after midday on 1 November, people who died not long ago return to live with their families for a few hours. 

There was even a tradition, in Barcelona, of placing the dishes on the table for the deceased, as if they were another guest. Likewise, it was very common, on 1 November, to call the deceased into coming home, but also to help them find their way to eternity. For this reason, it was customary to hang lanterns on the façades of the houses, and on the tombs. 

In ‘Costumari català’, Amades also recalls a custom typical of rural villages, where it was popular to go to cemeteries to offer of bread to the deceased. This tradition evolved into the popular ‘panellets’, which bakers turned into a business. 

Continuing with gastronomy, chestnuts, sweet potatoes and ‘panellets’ have been and still are the traditional Christmas specials of this time of year. As an anecdote, it is said that in some areas of Catalonia superstition states that if you eat chestnuts, your hair will fall out and, for this reason, women did not want to eat them. This is the reason why chestnuts were replaced by pine nuts. Perhaps this is why many ‘panellets’ are wrapped in pine seeds.

In short, All Saints’ Day, today, as in the past, always responds to the same spirit: to keep the memory of our ancestors alive and to venerate the cycle of life that is so well expressed in the peasant world.

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El segle XV, Catalunya va començar amb el Compromís de Casp, una assemblea de notables convocada amb l’únic objectiu d’escollir el següent rei de la Corona catalanoaragonesa. La mort de Martí l’Humà sense descendència legítima i sense haver nomenat oficialment successor al candidat natural Jaume d’Urgell, va donar molta força a la candidatura de Ferran d’Antequera, regent de Castella. I tot plegat, quina relació existeix amb el descobriment d’Amèrica?    

Al final del segle XIII, va cessar abruptament el procés expansiu que de manera sostinguda havia afectat tot Europa durant els dos segles anteriors. Era el primer símptoma de l’esgotament del sistema feudal. Des d’aleshores, les grans fams i epidèmies dels segles XIV i XV, posarien en evidència els forts desequilibris d’un sistema ja obsolet. 

La crisi generalitzada del feudalisme va afectar totes les estructures materials, socials i mentals. Fams i epidèmies determinaren reajustaments dels sistemes d’explotació agraris, el caràcter contradictori dels quals va fomentar les lluites camperoles i les reaccions senyorials, típiques del període. Les ciutats, beneficiades al començament pel fluix migratori camperol, es veieren commogudes per les tendències immobilistes de les oligarquies i els programes democratitzadors d’amplis sectors socials urbans.

Les monarquies europees es van trobar atrapades en aquest context de conflicte. La seva autonomia d’acció els exigia un drenatge més eficaç de recursos, que superés la vella malla de drets feudals, de gestió complexa i de rendiments incerts, encara que clarament insuficients. El concepte, tantes vegades repetit, que el rei “deu viure de lo seu” va constituir un hàbil estratagema per a limitar la monarquia, sostraient-li el control dels recursos financers.

La desigual textura econòmica i social dels països que componien la Corona catalanoaragonesa va determinar cronologies i desenvolupaments específics de la crisi. L’any 1333, “lo mal any primer”, va romandre com a símbol de la crisi agrària catalana, situació extensible a Mallorca; però Aragó, i també València, experimentaren greus dificultats arran de la crisi de les Unions (1347-48) i de la Guerra dels Dos Peres (1356-75). La diversitat social i institucional de la Corona va imposar continguts diferenciats a la crisi: el problema de remença fou una qüestió específica de Catalunya; a Mallorca, el camperolat era de condició lliure; i a Aragó i València, els mudèjars van constituir la massa dels treballadors en condicions de servitud rigorosa. Per això mateix, a Catalunya es va lluitar per l’adquisició de drets econòmics i jurídics. A Mallorca, els forans van combatre, al so de “qui deu que pac”, contra la corrupció administrativa generada pel deute públic i l’administració dels impostos. I a Aragó i València, no hi hagué lluites camperoles, exceptuant anècdotes aïllades, durant els segles XIV i XV.

El marc politicoinstitucional de la Corona catalanoaragonesa

La unió dinàstica d’Aragó i Catalunya, el 1137, determinà l’estructura politicoadministrativa de la Corona. Tant Aragó com Catalunya s’incorporaren, en aquella data, com a entitats que mantenien íntegres les seves disparitats econòmiques, fiscals i institucionals. Es tractava d’una confederació. Les conquestes de Mallorca i València, al segle XIII, no quedaren com a prolongacions de Catalunya o d’Aragó, sinó que ambdues entitats se sumaren a la Corona en qualitat de regnes dotats d’autonomia interna. Sicília, Sardenya i Nàpols, també amb el títol de regnes, s’incorporaren posteriorment a aquesta peculiar estructura. 

Darrere d’aquesta façana institucional, tanmateix, Catalunya va exercir la direcció durant bona part del segle XIV. El disseny de l’expansió mediterrània fou obra seva. Mallorca, poblada aclaparadorament per catalans, fou en alguns aspectes una prolongació del Principat; sense corts privatives, quan acudia a les convocatòries generals els seus representants se sumaven a la representació catalana, encara que esporàdicament fes valer la seva condició de regne separat. Durant el segle XV, València va assumir el paper econòmic de Catalunya, però no el lideratge que aquesta havia tingut dins la confederació.

L’estructura federativa de la Corona i les diferents circumstàncies de la incorporació de territoris determinaren la desigual intensitat de l’acció monàrquica en cada regne. Resulta evident la distinció entre els territoris units mitjançant pacte dinàstic, Aragó i Catalunya, i els territoris conquerits, València i les illes Balears. En aquests darrers, per norma general, la monarquia operà amb menys contribucions. Ni Mallorca ni València no van conèixer figures equiparables la justícia d’Aragó o a la Diputació del General de Catalunya. A Mallorca i València el rei va arribar a designar els càrrecs rectors dels municipis i els components de les assemblees per assegurar-se la continuïtat del drenatge econòmic. Per aquestes raons, Mallorca es doblegà a les demandes financeres de la monarquia, a la segona meitat del segle XIV, fins al límit de les seves possibilitats. Durant el segle XV, València en va prendre el relleu; la seva contribució a les empreses d’Alfons el Magnànim i, sobretot, de Ferran el Catòlic, va portar el municipi vora la fallida.

Malgrat l’eficàcia desigual de la monarquia en la captació de recursos, l’acció de la Corona en el terreny legislatiu, judicial i financer estigué sotmesa a control. Fou la teoria del pactisme. El principi va ser enunciat clarament per Francesc Eiximenis, que va assenyalar que tota autoritat emanava de la comunitat, ja que aquella no era sinó la síntesi de l’exercici de la llei que, a la vegada, era el conjunt de costums. El poder reial provenia d’un contracte tàcit entre el monarca i el poble, i ambdós s’obligaven al compliment de la llei. El sistema operava, a la pràctica, de manera que el rei no era proclamat fins després d’haver jurat els furs o constitucions. Tampoc no podia establir o abolir disposicions generals sense el coneixement i consentiment de les corts. L’aplicació i administració de la llei, és a dir, la justícia, estava limitada per la trama de jurisdiccions feudals de vell encuny, pel seguiment realitzat per les corts, i per institucions com ara la justícia d’Aragó.

En tot cas, la gestió executiva dels monarques quedava particularment limitada per l’escassetat de recursos ordinaris a la seva disposició. Com a tota monarquia feudal, el rei disposava d’un patrimoni privat, format per monopolis, drets sobre l’activitat agrària i comercial, taxes judicials i altres ingressos aleatoris. Les creixents necessitats econòmiques conduïren a una millora de la gestió i coordinació financeres, amb la creació del mestre racional al final del segle XIII. Però el sistema, malgrat les seves virtualitats, va mostrar aviat que era limitat. El disseny d’una política imperialista a la Mediterrània, durament combatuda per Gènova, exigí esforços financers colossals amb relació a les possibilitats que oferia el patrimoni reial. Aquest patrimoni estava adaptat a circumstàncies històriques superades, perquè tenia una base agrària que el feia poc adaptable. Però la seva magnitud permetia certs marges de maniobra, tot i que sempre perillosos, com a garantia de préstecs hipotecaris i hipoteques i, en darrera instància, la venda de drets i jurisdiccions.

Els Trastàmara arriben a la Corona catalanoaragonesa

Juntament amb el tractat de Corbeil (1259), que va comportar la renúncia al predomini català al sud de França, possiblement el Compromís de Casp ha estat el segon gran tema objecte de polèmica per la historiografia catalana.

Després de la mort de Martí el Jove, el 1409, Martí l’Humà posà en marxa diverses iniciatives successives: el seu matrimoni amb Margarida de Prades i el nomenament de Jaume d’Urgell com a governador i lloctinent general, càrrec reservat generalment als hereus. Cap no donà resultat. Ni el rei obtingué la successió desitjada, ni Jaume d’Urgell va saber assegurar-la-hi des del seu càrrec de privilegi. Pocs mesos abans de la seva mort, el rei intentà encara una nova fórmula, que consistia a reunir una assemblea de notables per assessorar-lo en el tema de la successió. L’assemblea no arribà a reunir-se a causa de la mort del monarca al final del 1410. La qüestió successòria quedà, doncs, oberta. 

Després d’un dramàtic interregne, la primavera de 1412 es reuniren a la vila aragonesa de Casp els representants dels parlaments català, valencià i aragonès per escollir, entre els quatre candidats —Ferran d’Antequera, Jaume d’Urgell, Alfons de Gandia i Frederic de Luna—, el nou rei de la Confederació. A instàncies dels aragonesos i recolzats per l’exèrcit castellà, els mallorquins havien quedat exclosos de l’elecció amb la clara intenció d’impedir un possible empat. Per tant, transcorreguts tres mesos de deliberació, els representants van triar en Ferran d’Antequera, cosa que suposava per primera vegada l’entronització d’una dinastia castellana —els Trastàmara— per a governar la Corona catalanoaragonesa.

L’esclat de la revolta urgellista

De fet, la candidatura Trastàmara a la Corona catalanoaragonesa ja havia estat planejada per Enric III de Castella —pare d’en Ferran—, però les seves ambicions sempre havien topat amb l’oposició de la noblesa i la societat catalana, en general. Una situació que el controvertit Compromís de Casp va aconseguir capgirar, trasbalsant violentament Catalunya.

La negativa de no acceptar la resolució de Casp va conduir a bona part de la societat catalana a enfrontar-se obertament contra el nou rei Ferran. D’aquesta manera, esclataren infinitat de revoltes —fonamentades per les més que evidents argúcies castellanes emprades en l’elecció— les quals foren encapçalades pel mateix comte d’Urgell. Per aquest motiu, la revolta (1412-1414) enfrontà els partidaris de la causa urgellista contra les tropes Trastàmara, i va derivar en violents enfrontaments. Després de quasi dos anys de sagnants combats, les tropes castellanes —i aragoneses— imposaren la seva superioritat, detingueren el comte d’Urgell, com a principal instigador i l’empresonen a perpetuïtat.

Havent sufocat les aspiracions urgellistes, el regnat de Ferran I es va caracteritzar per no dur a terme ni consolidar cap acció política concreta. I en pujar al tron el seu fill Alfons el Magnànim el 1416, la situació s’agreujà més quan el rei va fomentar un clima d’incomunicació, a vegades de confrontació, entre el rei i els estaments catalans. A més, amb el trasllat de la Cort a Nàpols, l’allunyà definitivament de la realitat dels seus regnes ibèrics, cosa que contribuí a l’aparició de noves revoltes, aquest cop protagonitzades per la pagesia, o sigui els remences.

La guerra civil catalana

A la mort del rei Alfons el Magnànim el 1458, el va succeir el seu germà en Joan II, el qual es va trobar amb una oligarquia catalana encara més recelosa contra les polítiques del Trastàmara, sobretot pel que fa a les seves pràctiques autoritàries. Per aquest motiu, i de manera progressiva, l’oligarquia catalana va anant decantar-se cap a l’opció que representava el príncep Carles de Viana —amb un tarannà més dialogant—, que encara essent fill de Joan II, hi estava obertament enfrontat. Les disputes entre pare i fill es van anar accentuant, cosa que va acabar amb l’empresonament del príncep i, per tant, la vulneració dels fonaments de les constitucions catalanes. O almenys, aquesta va ser l’excusa per la qual la Generalitat es va alçar en armes contra el rei Joan II, iniciant així la guerra civil catalana (1462-1472).

Durant el conflicte, la Generalitat va intentar desvincular el rei Joan II de la Corona catalanoaragonesa, per mitjà de l’oferiment d’aquesta, primer a Pere de Portugal, com a net del comte Jaume d’Urgell i que governaria fins a la seva mort, el 1466; i segon al duc de Provença, en Renat d’Anjou, el qual aportaria tropes franceses al contenciós bèl·lic. Malgrat això, la victòria es decantà del bàndol de Joan II, el qual va prometre un perdó general i fidelitat a les lleis i constitucions catalanes.

Mentrestant, però, Joan II havia casat el seu fill Ferran amb la seva cosina segona, la infanta Isabel de Castella el 1469, que cinc anys més tard accediria al tron castellà. Així, a la mort de Joan II, el 1479, Ferran va pujar al tron de la Corona catalanoaragonesa, cosa que va suposar la unió dinàstica d’ambdues Corones, però no territorial.  

La consolidació de la dinastia castellana dels Trastàmara al tron de Catalunya va anar acompanyada de constants revoltes i enfrontaments armats. Això és important per entendre la desconfiança mútua que planava en totes les relacions entre el rei Ferran el Catòlic i l’oligarquia catalana. En aquest context, s’ha d’emmarcar el regicidi frustrat que, el 7 de desembre de 1492, va patir el rei Ferran quan fou apunyalat pel remença en Joan de Canyamars enmig d’una audiència pública celebrada a Barcelona. I fou en aquesta atmosfera política, l’època en la qual es va forjar l’empresa colombina de descoberta.

Una família barcelonina del segle XV

L’existència d’abundant documentació referent a la família barcelonina dels Colom és molt extensa i contrastada. El seu àlbum familiar el formen humanistes, diputats, diplomàtics, mercaders, navegants, bisbes, almiralls, militars, cosmògrafs, bibliòfils i banquers. Els Colom, de fet, van ser els fundadors de la Taula de Canvi, la primera banca moderna d’Europa. És a dir, era una família extremadament vinculada a la cort reial i a la fiscalitat.  

Segons les cròniques, el Descobridor estava vinculat a les quatre grans corts europees: la portuguesa, la francesa, l’anglesa i espanyola (o sigui, la catalana). Se sap del cert que el barceloní Cristòfol Colom estava vinculat als Urgell, que es va casar amb una Coïmbra —Felipa— que el lligava a la cort portuguesa i, de retruc, a l’anglesa, perquè la família reial de Portugal eren els Lancaster, la dinastia reial anglesa, i que tenia entrada a la cort francesa, atès que els Urgell i els Anjou eren parents.

Tot plegat està àmpliament documentat, però la historiografia oficial no en fa cas perquè parteix de la premissa que el Descobridor no podia ser català. Però, està clar, que els historiadors han estat incapaços de justificar totes aquestes vinculacions reials amb el Colombo llaner, inculte i plebeu. Per a ells, la Cort, en lloc de ser l’extensió política de la família reial —com afirmen els experts—, és una mena de beneficència, on s’acull qualsevol rodamon, se’l manté durant set anys i se li paguen els vicis nàutics.

En resum, la documentació relativa a la família barcelonina dels Colom palesa l’existència d’un personatge molt destacat en la navegació i en el comerç, el qual va emprendre el seu camí formatiu com a mariner des de ben jovenet. A través del llibre de comptes de la família Colom —senyal de família important— se’n dedueix que va voltar per tota la Mediterrània —des de Barcelona fins a Grècia, passant per Egipte— i per l’Atlàntic —des de Groenlàndia fins a l’Àfrica equatorial— cosa que el Colombo genovès no es va moure mai de Gènova. Per tant, és grotesc pensar que un home a qui els reis van atorgar els càrrecs de virrei i almirall menteixi sobre la seva trajectòria, experiència i tradició familiar.

El darrer reducte rebel

L’Empordà —sempre favorable a la Generalitat— va ser el darrer reducte dels catalans fidels a Renat d’Anjou, a l’hora de rendir-se davant les tropes del rei Joan II Sense Fe. De fet, esdevingué un important focus en el qual hi acabà vivint una part de l’oligarquia catalana —contraris als Trastàmara—, conjuntament amb un contingent de tropes franceses i un important grapat de corsaris portuguesos, vinguts durant l’època de Pere de Portugal. I entre aquells “rebels” hi trobem els Ianes o Yàñez Pinçon —un d’ells, capità del castell de Palau-saverdera— o En Pero Vasques de Saavedra, sotasignant del document de rendició —signat a Peralada— del qual les cròniques en parlen com a “que era alcalde de la vila y fortaleza de Palos”. No cal recordar que el Palos andalús mai va tenir muralles.

A més, serà el mateix Descobridor qui a través d’una carta adreçada a En Ferran el Catòlic, li explicarà que amb anterioritat havia dirigit una operació naval, a prop de Marsella, a les ordres del rei Renat d’Anjou quan aquest va ser proclamat rei per Generalitat el 1466. A més, també aprofitarà per descriure amb gran detall altres batalles navals i fets històrics que ocorregueren durant la guerra civil catalana.

Tanmateix, acabada la guerra, el rei Joan II Sense Fe va exigir a tots els pobles rebels, el pagament d’una multa com a compensació per la traïció als Trastàmara. Per aquest motiu, hi ha infinitat de documents que parlen d’aquests pagaments de multes o les reclamacions d’aquestes. Per tant, també encaixa amb les referències històriques que expliquen que “esta villa de Palos, como tenía una fuerte deuda por sus acciones contrarias a la Corona…” faci referència al Pals empordanès.

I encara resulta més evident que durant les negociacions amb la monarquia per materialitzar l’empresa de descoberta, el Descobridor demanés explícitament als monarques que permetés que “Palos salde su deuda con la Corona ofreciendo hombres para la expedición” i quan la reina Isabel respongui ho faci amb d’aquesta manera: “la reina y señora de Palos confirma que la deuda que teníais con nos, queda redimida pero la tendréis que pagar con hombres”.

Finalment, quan es redactin les Capitulacions de Santa Fe, aquesta clàusula quedarà escrita en la forma i en el contingut sencer. D’aquesta manera, el Descobridor s’assegurava que els Reis Catòlics no aprofitarien la seva marxa per a manllevar-los les propietats, com a revenja per la seva rebel·lió. La malfiança que demostra aquesta clàusula només s’entén en un context d’enfrontament i de desconfiança política, com el que s’havia viscut a Catalunya amb els Trastàmara.

I què hauria passat si En Colom hagués pogut executar les clàusules contingudes dins les Capitulacions de Santa Fe? No ho sabrem mai! Però sí que sabem que sense saber-ho, els Reis Catòlics havien signat un contracte —les Capitulacions— amb el Descobridor que permetria el naixement d’una nova dinastia reial, ja que les Índies esdevindrien un nou regne i En Colom en seria el virrei vitalici. I a més, el càrrec seria hereditari.

Tal com explica la crònica del Pare Casaus, l’or que va arribar del segon viatge d’en Colom va ser requisat íntegrament pels oficials i duaners del regne, cosa que va permetre sufragar la campanya de recuperació de la Cerdanya i el Rosselló els quals havien estat empenyorats per Joan II per a finançar la guerra civil contra la Generalitat. Però el fet més preocupant succeirà en el decurs del tercer viatge, quan en Francisco de Bobadilla —amb amplis poders per jutjar l’Almirall— confiscarà la totalitat de la seva mercaderia argumentant que no s’havien enviat totes les riqueses promeses a la Corona. D’aquesta manera va començar una autèntica campanya de desprestigi públic que acabaria amb la detenció d’en Colom.

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Traditional Spanish historiography, centred around the Royal Academy of History —with its permanent headquarters in Madrid— still, upholds the concept of the “Reconquista” in the 21st century. This term is laden with political intent, serving to fuel the most Unitarian postulates of Spanish politics—especially on the right and far right—which perpetuates a monolithic and teleological view of the peninsula’s past.

Fortunately, since the end of Franco’s dictatorship, a new generation of historians has broken with the dogmas imposed by the regime, drawing inspiration from the methodologies of the Annals School and the French scientific model. This shift meant accepting that documentary sources did not reflect the entirety of social reality, but only what those in power had decided to record. Thus, most of the society—especially peasant communities—had been deliberately excluded from this official epic narrative.

The progressive incorporation of archaeology as a primary source made it possible to compensate for the documentary bias. This renewed perspective dismantled the traditional narrative and opened the door to studying forms of social organisation and settlement models that had historically been invisible. Thanks to this, it became possible to investigate productive dynamics, distribution processes and territorial reorganisations that until a few decades ago had remained hidden.

Furthermore, this methodology has revealed flagrant contradictions between the documentary record and archaeological remains, exposing numerous cases of falsified documentation, especially in disputes between ecclesiastical institutions and peasant communities, particularly with regard to property, exploitation rights, and territorial boundaries. This has shown that power not only controlled the production of surplus, but also legitimised its right to do so.

Today, the historiographical consensus is clear: the formation of feudalism in the Iberian Peninsula cannot be understood as a linear or homogeneous process. The most recent research shows that there was no single ‘peninsular feudal model’, but rather a constellation of territorial processes with diverse chronologies, intensities, and forms of articulation. Far from being a simple importation of the Frankish model, Castilian-Leonese feudalism was built on a complex foundation that brought together structures inherited from late antiquity, internal transformations derived from military pressure on the border with Al-Andalus, and the concentration of territorial power in the hands of a minority of local elites.

In short, these studies have shown that, over the centuries, power structures have exerted systemic coercion on the subordinate classes, progressively imposing the generation of surpluses to sustain the most unproductive sectors of society. Only through a multifaceted approach—economic, social, cultural, and mental—will it be possible to understand the complexity of a radically plural and diverse peninsular reality, far removed from the simplification that revolves around the supposed and unalterable essence of Spain.

The creation of a new historical reality

The Castilian-Leonese expansion can be interpreted, if one wishes, as a story of the Wild West due to the striking similarity between the two expansions, both in terms of the dynamics of employment and transformation and in their subsequent territorial consolidation. Thus, if we replace Arab scimitars with Indian bows and arrows, swords with cowboy revolvers, and stone castles with the wooden forts of the Seventh Cavalry, the result is a story worthy of the Western film industry.

However, this analogy should serve to distance us from the Spanish epic based on “destiny in the universal” and to accept — once and for all — that the process experienced by the Asturian world at the end of the 8th century is not an isolated event, nor, by any means, the result of a substantial idea. Rather, these events were very similar to those that occurred in other territories of the Hispanic world.

A paradigmatic case was the kingdom of Pamplona, which, only half a century later, adopted a very similar mechanism of legitimisation: the proclamation reigned —without Carolingian endorsement or immediate Caliphate pressure—, supported by the Church and by a heroic narrative —Roland and Roncesvalles— which, in the image of the Asturian model.

Based on this premise, we can understand how the new political reality of the north-west of the peninsula developed from the 9th century onwards. The emergence of a new oligarchy of Oviedo magnates, enriched by an efficient economy of pillage –on Caliphate lands– altered the tribal status quo of collective election, replacing it with the hereditary transmission of power within a single family. This break with the past took concrete and lasting shape with the founding of a new capital on the remains of an ancient Roman military camp. In this way, León became the new epicentre of Asturian-Leonese royal power.

This gesture not only involved the displacement of the political epicentre from Oviedo to León, but also the adoption of a new title — Rex Hispaniae — which evoked the plural notion of Hispania, configured from the ancient late Roman provinces. However, the Navarrese proclaimed Eneko Aritza—or Íñigo Arista—as Rex Pampilonensium, a title that emphasised their autonomy and, in turn, claimed power anchored in a specific territory and a distinct political community. The coexistence of these two formulas—one with a peninsular scope and the other with strictly regional roots—perfectly illustrates the fragmentation of power and the plurality of political projects that characterised the Iberian Peninsula in the early Middle Ages. In short, the notion of “Hispania” was far from being unified under a single crown, but rather became a disputed space, where each kingdom sought to legitimise itself on the basis of its own tradition and genealogy.

The new Leonese dynasty reorganised its political space into four territories: Galicia, Asturias, Cantabria and Bardulia—known from the 10th century onwards as Castile—linked by a modern urban network designed to meet the needs of an aristocracy increasingly dependent on the royal expansionist policy. At the same time, the south was the subject of intense military fortification to guarantee the security of the kingdom. From then on, the territory south of the border was known—both as a political entity and as a defensive space—by the name of Extremadura, from the Latin Extrema Durii, “the end of the Duero”.

Unlike the Asturian valleys of the north, this Extremadura—that is, the strip between the Duero and Tagus rivers—offered wide plains and forests suitable for the progressive and coercive imposition of large-scale cereal and livestock production, the basis of the survival of the Kingdom of León.

Only this perspective explains the enormous economic dynamism that the Leonese dynasty experienced throughout the 10th–12th centuries. Therefore, continuing with the analogy of the Far West—like a gold prospector gone mad— the kingdom of León always needed new territories to continue feeding its greed and that of its allies in order to maintain the political, economic and cultural structure of the kingdom.

Propaganda as a weapon of mass destruction

Whenever the coffers of the Kingdom of León demanded greater revenues, the recipe was invariable: expand at the expense of the lands under Caliphate jurisdiction. This constant thirst for resources was due, above all, to the whims of the elites: the enlargement of a palace or cathedral, the commissioning of a mural painting that responded to purely ornamental and ideological tastes, the acquisition of relics of dubious origin, the purchase of lavish jewellery with spices from the East, and, even more importantly, several devout—and very costly—journeys to venerate the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. In short, these were expenses that were absolutely essential for the smooth running of the kingdom’s internal economy.

In addition, it was necessary to maintain a warrior elite that would guarantee the status of the elites, which represented such a huge economic drain on the royal coffers—and, incidentally, on the peasant communities—that the only way to legitimise it was to keep these warriors constantly on the move. This was to prevent them from becoming bored and starting to look for enemies at home, as numerous episodes documented in the 11th century show. Faced with this danger, the Leonese elites chose to channel feudal violence outwards, inventing and magnifying an external enemy: the infidel of the Caliphate, who, by defending himself against feudal attacks, further justified Leon’s expansionist policy.

But no conquest can last without a narrative to give it moral cover. The chronicles – like television or cinema today – were the perfect amplifier: they decided the plan, cut out reality, inflated the smallest victory and hid the most humiliating defeat. All wrapped up in heroic discourse that turned looting into a pious work and an unworthy manoeuvre into a founding feat. They did not explain what happened, but rather what was convenient for posterity.

And this is where the Albeldense, Rotense and Sebastianense chronicles come into play: pens that write to the rhythm of the sword, drafted ex post to create a tailor-made memory. Thanks to them, the usurpation was disguised as a feat and the Leonese dynasty proclaimed itself the direct heir to the legendary kingdom of the Basques. The ultimate paradox: the same dynasty that, at the time, had done everything possible to differentiate itself — or even renounce — that legacy, now claimed it as its founding pedigree.

To give substance to the legend, they did not hesitate to invent heroes such as Pelayo and battles such as Covadonga—episodes that, at best, are only mentioned in passing in accounts written centuries after the events they purport to describe. In fact, contemporary Arab chronicles do not even mention them, revealing the extent to which these myths are political constructs rather than historical accounts.

These chronicles—the foundation on which the historiographical idea of the ‘Reconquista’ is built—are not a transparent window into the past, but rather a showcase for political and economic propaganda at the service of a dynasty and an aristocracy hungry for land and eager to perpetuate their status. Far from merely explaining events, they anchor the fiction of a historical mission and construct an invented right to intervene in territories and communities that, until then, had lived on the margins of the new machinery of power. A fiction that, more than a millennium later, still breathes… and which, in some Castilian academic circles, continues to be venerated with the blind faith of a dogma.

A territory of “free people”

From the beginning of feudal expansion in the early 9th century, the territories of the north-western peninsula were organised under the legal and administrative formula of dominium, based on Roman law, which designated a dominus or lord as the owner of the land. Therefore, the king or count became, from the outset, the ultimate owner of all the land that was expropriated.

No lord would have any interest in owning land, water, livestock, or mills if there were no peasants capable of organising stable work processes that would convert their efforts into income. For this reason, from the 10th century onwards, León’s expansionist policy was implemented through the communities of ‘town and land’, which would become the key element of political and legal organisation within the newly expropriated territories.

Contrary to what traditional historiography maintains, these territories were not a desert in the literal sense of the word, i.e. completely unpopulated. The term desert has been used in a self-serving way to justify the use of force, when in reality it referred to areas that were not under the effective jurisdiction of Leonese or Castilian power. Free peasant communities lived there, with their own forms of self-government and resource management, which escaped the fiscal and jurisdictional control of the new lords.

The real danger to the aristocracy was not, therefore, a supposed demographic void, but the existence of these independent groups to be subjugated. To achieve this, brutal debt mechanisms were created — letters of settlement, ‘presura’ contracts — which immobilised the population, tied them to the land and allowed large-scale cereal and livestock production to be imposed, with the aim of ensuring the continuity of the lords’ incomes.

Over time, the lands ended up being ceded to other lords, ecclesiastical entities or monasteries, generating a diversity of property regimes — royal, abbatial, ancestral, behetría — which, from the 14th century onwards, would lead to the concentration of power and land in a few hands. Historiography has defined this process as Lordship.

However, at the beginning of the 13th century, this territorial policy ended up suffocating León society. The ambition of the rentiers—the nobility and clergy—demanded more land and, therefore, more peasants to turn it into income. However, since part of the indigenous population had been expelled or massacred, León—now more than ever—found itself with large unpopulated territories. Furthermore, the population of León did not have sufficient demographic capacity as a result of an insufficient birth rate, which prevented the situation from being reversed. For this reason, the Leonese feudal model became, in the long run, inflexible; and, despite providing social stability, it ended up stifling innovation and expansion.

At the same time, Castilian feudalism, which had also originated on the border with Al-Andalus, was shaped by an even more militarised society, where peasants were both farmers and soldiers, forced to defend the territory while producing surplus crops. Therefore, each new conquest required the construction of fortifications and the establishment of settlements that transformed entire communities into defensive units.

This dynamic made Castile a society that was extremely adaptable to the different expansionary circumstances of the successive centuries. For this reason, both the aristocracy—and the clergy—and the peasants shared the same social function: to guarantee territorial dominance. While León preserved a conservative feudalism, Castile deployed a much more aggressive, adaptable and dynamic feudal system, capable of projecting itself hegemonic over the rest of the territories. This model worked as long as there was enough territory to implement it, that is, until the 14th century.

Faced with this scenario of structural exhaustion, the royal family of León opted for a “pragmatic” solution: to sell the kingdom of León to Castile for an annual sum of 15,000 maravedis — about €2 million today — for each member of the family until their death. The agreement was sealed in the Concordia de Benavent (1230).

The Castilian extractive model

Following the purchase of the Kingdom of León, its integration into the Castilian sphere not only transformed the political balance on the peninsula, but also marked a turning point in the model of land exploitation. The former diversity of political and economic structures was absorbed by a system of government that concentrated power and land in the hands of a rentier minority, often absentee landlords, who lived far removed from productive activity. These elites, whether the monarchy, the high nobility or the upper echelons of the church hierarchy, gradually detached themselves from the material needs of the population and focused on perpetuating their privileges.

The Castilian peninsular economy evolved into an extractive model in which wealth did not come from innovation, manufacturing or internal trade, but from the ability to extract agricultural and fiscal rents from a subjugated peasantry, after having experienced the process of seigniorage or loss of freedoms. The territory was now perceived as an inexhaustible source of exploitation, rather than a space for innovation. This logic consolidated a structure of systemic inequality, in which productive work was relegated to the lowest strata, while the elites concentrated wealth and political power.

When, from the 16th century onwards, massive shipments of gold and silver from America began to arrive on the peninsula, this colossal influx of precious metals was not used to diversify the economy, create infrastructure or promote an industrial base of its own. On the contrary, it became fuel to finance distant wars, sustain a deeply corrupt court, maintain an increasingly parasitic aristocracy and pay perpetual debts to German and Italian bankers. Corruption was not a deviation from the system, but a pillar of its functioning: the distribution of honours, positions, and privileges served to ensure political loyalties and perpetuate the rentier circle. The result was that, while the Castilian royal coffers saw tons of gold pouring in, internal productive structures remained anchored in medieval patterns and dependent on rent extraction.

Thus, at the dawn of the 18th century, Castile was burdened with a structural deficit that turned the weakness of the urban fabric, the fragmentation of markets and the persistent concentration of land into insurmountable obstacles to modernisation and industrialisation. The feudal structures, the lack of an autonomous bourgeoisie capable of challenging aristocratic power, and the pre-eminence of agricultural rents over manufacturing production had shaped a dual country: a north with some dynamic urban centres but no capacity for traction, and a south dominated by large, unproductive estates.

This imbalance was not the result of specific circumstances, but rather the continuation—under new forms and new names—of the economic and political model born with the integration of León into Castile. A model that survived intact through each change of dynasty and which, with the arrival of the Bourbons, would not only remain unreformed, but would end up being amplified.

A dynamic that continues to this day

In the early 18th century, the death of the last Habsburg triggered a bloody war of succession. When the Spanish throne finally passed to the Bourbons, many believed that this would mark the beginning of a profound reform of the state, given that Philip V inherited a healthy treasury thanks to the management of his predecessor, Charles II, and the first documented controlled deflation in Western Europe. The royal coffers showed a surplus, an unheard-of situation for a monarch accustomed to the French court, which was permanently in debt due to the extravagant luxuries of Louis XIV.

But in less than ten years, that economic cushion evaporated. Bourbon centralism did not reform the system, but rather shielded it. The state continued to live off rents and depend on external resources, while public assets remained at the service of the private interests of the circles of power—an inertia that, in fact, has continued to this day.

The new administrative apparatus, modelled on the French system and marked by the French mentality—the conception that France is not just a state, but a territorial project that always seeks to be more compact, more controlled and with “perfect” borders—served to control all the peninsular territories and the flow of wealth they generated more directly. Therefore, this system was not used to modernise the economy, let alone to redistribute opportunities. Cronyism, corruption, and the distribution of positions to loyalists not only continued, but became systemic. In this way, the historical imbalance between the peninsular territories was perpetuated.

The hexagon that never closes

Ultimately, the change of dynasty did not mark the birth of a modern Spain, but rather the continuation of a secular mechanism, now with a French accent and wrapped in a more polished narrative. A narrative that drew on the expansionist mentality of the hexagon, but which remains unfinished to this day.

Following this political logic, Castile reached the Cortes of Cadiz (1812) —in the midst of the war against Napoleon— to formulate ‘Spain’ as a unitary state for the first time. The underlying objective was territorial homogenisation, something that was never achieved due to the existence of internal linguistic, legal, cultural and economic diversity.

Napoleon’s defeat and the subsequent Congress of Vienna (1814–1815) drew up a new continental map. The great European powers, obsessed with containing France, created several ‘buffer states’ —such as the Netherlands, Bavaria and Piedmont-Sardinia— to curb possible future French expansion. In this context, Catalonia, due to its geographical position, historical identity and political tradition, had the opportunity to become the fourth leg of this defensive belt in the south. However, the combination of a Spain ruled by an absolutist and discredited Ferdinand VII and Catalan economic elites more interested in maintaining commercial privileges in the empire than in redefining their sovereignty closed that historic opportunity. This episode demonstrates that borders are not always marked by geography, but by political decisions—and renunciations.

Since then, Spain’s clienteles system and structural corruption have not only survived, but have adapted to each regime: from the networks of influence woven during feudal expansion, later evolved through the process of lordship under the Old Regime, to the caciques of the 19th century, the elites of the Restoration, and the intermediaries of the 20th and 21st centuries. The mechanism has always been the same: to concentrate power and resources in a like-minded minority, while proclaiming a unifying discourse that ignores or erases internal differences.

And this is where the concept of ‘Reconquista’ becomes the cornerstone of all Spanish political ideology over the last two hundred years. Through an apparently historical narrative—spanning an uninterrupted period of about a thousand years—this concept was used by the Castilian elites not only to justify unity, but also to present it as an indispensable condition for sustaining the very structure of the state. This structure is nourished by creating economic and political dependencies of the territorial elites on the centre: privileges, contracts, positions, and aid that ensure their loyalty and neutralise any dissent. Without this network of dependencies—where corruption acts as cement—the system would become ungovernable.

Likewise, this dynamic of the Spanish state has also generated internal resistance in some territories which, despite pressure, have managed to fight to preserve their uniqueness, language, culture, and institutions. But this resistance —often underestimated— has also had to combat not only the offensive from the centre, but also the betrayal of those who, without scruples, have sold their country in exchange for favours and perpetual income.

Thus, the imposition of Castilian supremacy over the peninsular plurality is the mechanism that allows this architecture of power to be perpetuated. The hexagon is still unfinished, not because of a lack of centralising will, but because the peninsular reality—radically diverse since its origins—has never been homogenised towards the centre. Only a multifaceted approach would allow Spain to finally take shape.

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Equality between women and men is not only achieved through universal suffrage. Full equality lies in changing the deepest structures of patriarchal society. We must work for a society that reflects a true relationship between equals. We continue with the historical exercise on great female figures of our contemporary history.

At the beginning of the 19th century, Catalonia embarked on the road to modernity through the process of industrialisation. The mechanisation of the textile industry and the structuring of the territory, with the construction of the railway and road network, enabled the country to become one of the most dynamic economies in Europe.

The capitalism that emerged from this process generated great profits for the few at the expense of great social imbalances. Inevitably, the workers’ movement emerged, forcing the better-off classes to reflect on whether it was permissible to make steady profits without a fair distribution of wealth. Then came the key question: is class struggle inevitable?

History has seen countless theorists address the question over the past centuries. Many have theorised and legitimised workers’ wills against bourgeois labour exploitation. And countless trade union movements have worked to liberate the worker from the oppression of the boss.

Competing interests

The class struggle has led the workers to use the right to strike and, as a last resort, physical confrontation to achieve their demands. And the bourgeoisie, supported by the power of surplus value, has been able to put pressure on public institutions to counteract the legitimate demands of the workers. When this understanding has been impossible, war and concentration camps have appeared.

The dialectic of revolutionary strategies for the abolition of capitalism and the processes of achieving an egalitarian society – which would also mean the end of the oppression of women – became the workhorse of radical feminism in the early part of the 20th century.

Many believed that, in order to eliminate gender inequality, it was first necessary to fight to end social classes, the patriarchy and the Church. After all this, the real emancipation of women would be achieved. Universal women’s suffrage would not be enough, just a progressive illusion to control their voice. Therefore, for the anarcho-feminists, it was necessary to go much further: would it be the dictatorship of the proletariat which would bring full equality of both genders? In this process, would it also be necessary to destroy the state, the symbol of bourgeois control?

A libertarian leader

No one would ever have imagined that an anarchist leader like Frederica Montseny i Mañé (1905-1994) would go so far. The only child of a married couple who were militant in the incipient libertarian ideas, she forged her revolutionary character at a very early age. The acquisition of knowledge, through her mother’s side of the family, imbued her with a strong sense of freedom, which shaped her character as a woman.

Frederica Montseny understood that the class struggle was the necessary path to achieve full individual freedom, the power of decision and the choice of a way of life. All this would shape the essence of the individual within society. And in this process of liberation, for both women and men, the acquisition of knowledge would be of vital importance.

This anarchist leader understands that women have to live in absolute freedom and that there must be a perfect balance between women and men. Her frame of mind was therefore far from the feminine “I” as a complement to the masculine “you” that prevailed at the time, which led her into exile from January 1939 onwards.

She soon stood out for her flair for writing, so she began to collaborate in the anarchist press and eventually joined the Confederación Sindical de los Trabajadores (CNT). Both ‘La Revista Blanca’, the theoretical organ of Spanish anarchism, and the more satirical newspaper ‘El luchador’ became excellent loudspeakers for disseminating her anarchist thought: between 1923 and 1936 Frederica Montseny wrote more than 600 articles.

An anarchist in government

History had an enormous challenge in store for her, one of those that place you in front of a major existential dilemma. A few months after the outbreak of the Civil War, the trade unionist Francisco Largo Caballero formed a government of national unity, in which all the progressive and revolutionary forces that made up the political landscape of the state had to be represented. His government was to include republicans, liberals and members of the PSOE, the PCE, the POUM and also the CNT.

Frederica Montseny thus became the first woman in the history of Spain to hold a ministerial post, as was the portfolio of Health and Social Welfare. The decision had not been an easy one because of her ideology and the pressure from the most purist sector of anarchism, which demanded that she resign from the post.

Stubbornness and the timeliness of the situation led Montseny to push through the first decree legalising abortion. This was a fifty-year advance on women’s right to decide about their own bodies.

Forced exile

However, everything came to a halt with the triumph of fascism in Spain. In French exile she encountered Nazi fascism, which nearly ended her life. She lived in France until 1977, when she returned to rebuild the anarchist trade union and continue the work interrupted in 1939. The world had changed, however, and the revolution had been pushed aside by the welfare state.

Frederica Montseny was one of the first voices to establish a direct correlation between women’s liberation and libertarian ideas. She never considered herself a feminist, although her theses have ended up forming part of the ideological body of contemporary feminism.

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Des de temps immemorials, allò que els geògrafs grecs van definir com a Península Ibèrica, ha esdevingut el solar on s’ha construït una Història, la qual ha anat forjant diferents realitats i maneres de ser. Però amb l’esdevenir d’Espanya —a principis del XIX— diferents concepcions polítiques han cercat la manera de vertebrar-la a qualsevol preu. Per aquest motiu, alguns s’han entestat a demostrar una fictícia uniformitat històrica i territorial, pel simple fet de compartir una mateixa geografia. Catalunya ha compartit aquest solar, però la seva realitat històrica és una altra i és bo recordar-ho, ara que el debat torna a estar obert.  

La història tradicional d’Espanya s’ha construït d’acord amb la premissa d’atorgar un protagonisme únic a Castella —perllongada amb Andalusia i Extremadura— la qual ha estat exclusivament identificada amb Espanya. A la perifèria, especialment el llevant mediterrani i el nord-oest peninsular, se li ha permès tenir o bé un paper secundari o bé adquirir una certa rellevància de manera puntual, sobretot en els moments on la decadència castellana es feia més palesa. 

Així doncs, Castella —sempre sota una òptica negacionista— ha fet creure que existeix una “nació espanyola” i unes identitats “perifèriques” que les ha autodefinit com a nacionalitats. Però la realitat és una altra. La nació espanyola com la nació catalana o la nació basca són, existeixen, perquè són viscudes i percebudes pels qui així mateix diuen formar-ne part. Per tant, es torna a fer ús de la banalització per tal de confondre l’opinió pública i intentar evitar qualsevol procés d’autodeterminació legítim. En aquest sentit, la construcció identitària de la nació espanyola es torna ben sovint una destrucció sistemàtica de les “perifèries”, és a dir, l’espanyolisme acaba construint la seva identitat a còpia de reprimir les diferències del territori que considera nacional. 

Aquesta visió ha posat de manifest el greu problema sobre la realitat històrica d’Espanya. En primer lloc, ha evidenciat la imperfecció d’Espanya com a projecte polític atès que ha mostrat reiteradament els continus problemes d’adaptabilitat a l’estàndard occidental, sobretot pel que fa a dinàmiques d’adopció del capitalisme, el liberalisme i el racionalisme en el triple aspecte de l’econòmic, el polític i el cultural. I, en segon lloc, i encara més important, el fracàs més absolut de Castella en la seva tasca de fer d’Espanya una comunitat harmònica, plenament satisfeta amb ella mateixa i tolerant amb la resta de territoris que la componen. Si s’amaga la plurinacionalitat de l’estat, es deforma el passat.

Esmicolant “la unitat de destí en el fet universal”

Dins del sistema escolar franquista, la historiografia es va articular en funció del concepte de “Reconquesta”, el qual es tracta d’un concepte historiogràfic —emprat encara en els currículums de secundària de Castella— que descriu el procés de recuperació —puix els musulmans no eren legítims propietaris de la geografia hispànica— del món feudal per sobre del món musulmà i jueu. Aquest procés arrencaria poc després de l’arribada dels àrabs a la península Ibèrica (segle VIII) i finalitzaria amb els Reis Catòlics (segle XV), els quals acabarien unificant “Espanya” com un Estat integral. Aquesta Reconquesta acabaria forjant “l’esperit espanyol”. 

A mitjan segle passat, un conjunt d’historiadors —a fi de legitimar els vencedors de la Guerra Civil— emprengueren la tasca de construir els arguments històrics on se sustentés el nou règim. El corpus teòric es va basar a trobar “l’essència d’Espanya”. Per tant, la historiografia espanyolista va arribar a “demostrar” que realment existien uns trets distintius de continuïtat entre el passat prehistòric fins a l’actualitat els quals defineixen aquest “esperit espanyol”.  

Actualment, les investigacions tendeixen a trencar l’homogeneïtat territorial de les províncies i mostren una predisposició cada vegada més clara a realitzar recerques que subratllin més les diferències socials i territorials, com per exemple els darrers estudis sobre els hispanogots del segle VIII, on es constaten diferències significatives entre les societats peninsulars, principalment condicionades pels hàbitats on desenvolupen les seves activitats. Les evidències arqueològiques —sense defugir de les fonts documentals— demostren fefaentment que el procés de romanització les va afectar de manera molt diferent.  

Per tant, les crisis de l’antiguitat tardana dels segles III al VIII provocarien canvis molt més profunds, els quals afectarien de manera desigual als diferents territoris peninsulars. En conseqüència, l’arribada dels àrabs a la península Ibèrica també afectaria aquestes societats de diferent manera, per la qual cosa, la idea de la continuïtat entre el regne visigot i les consegüents formacions polítiques es diluiria com el sucre.

L’arqueologia ha confirmat que la penetració del món musulmà dins el territori peninsular no va ser tan traumàtic com s’ha volgut fer creure. Les restes arqueològiques revelen que, després de la conquesta, el territori peninsular mai va ser abandonat. Per tant, tot això demostraria que molts hispanogots van professar la nova fe musulmana, no tant per convicció com per mantenir la propietat de la terra. I aquesta terra es veurà transformada per la introducció de nous sistemes de producció agrària, basats principalment en la gestió i la força de l’aigua.

Deslegitimar l’origen per anul·lar la diferència 

A partir del segle IX, la majoria dels territoris peninsulars s’organitzaran com a regnes, i el rei esdevindrà el seu màxim representant. En canvi, als territoris del nord-est peninsular el comtat serà l’estructura administrativa que s’implementarà, i el comte —imposat des d’Aquisgrà— s’encarregarà d’administrar justícia, garantir l’ordre públic i gestionar la fiscalitat.

Aquest element diferenciador —com fou l’organització carolíngia del territori català— serà àmpliament combatut per la historiografia franquista a través d’una política de disminució de la seva rellevància. Per aquest motiu, se la considerarà una estructura de govern amb poca rellevància històrica i, per això es durà a terme una nul·la voluntat de difusió —tant en els cercles acadèmics com en els currículums escolars— la qual cosa afectarà el seu coneixement. 

Per tant, no ens ha de resultar estrany que aquests d’historiadors no vulguin entendre que la nostra singularitat és el resultat d’un enquadrament jurídic diferent de la matriu hispànica. El territori català serà adscrit seguint la política carolíngia de la Renovatio Imperii. Segurament, fou per aquest motiu la seva nul·la difusió, atès que l’essència d’Espanya quedava molt llunyana! 

Certament, el títol de rei és un dels càrrecs polítics més antics i coneguts. L’arrel més antiga de la paraula la trobem a l’indoeuropeu REG (regir/governar) la qual evolucionarà al llatí com a REX. En el context de les transformacions polítiques que es van succeir a partir del segle IV a l’occident europeu, amplis territoris seran governats per líders militars d’origen germànic, els quals progressivament s’alliberaran del domini de Roma i s’organitzaran com a regnes. Els nous cabdills territorials —siguin gots, francs o sueus— seguiran la seva tradició jurídica i adoptaran el títol de rex com a màxima figura política. 

Per tant, tots els sobirans peninsulars seran continuadors de la seva legalitat jurídica. Mentre que les dinasties astur-lleonesa o na­varresa o castellana continuaran utilitzant el títol de rei, el sobirà català utilitzarà el títol de comte, atès que legalment continuarà lligat a la dinastia francesa —hereva de la legalitat carolíngia a través de la família Capeta— i legitimada pel Papa, fins a la signatura del Tractat de Corbeil i ratificat al Tractat d’Anagni de mitjan segle XIII. A la pràc­tica, tots seran sobirans amb la mateixa potestat, tant si són reis com si som comtes.

El fet més paradoxal sobre la història d’Espanya —edificada a partir del concepte historiogràfic de la Reconquesta— és que es construeix a partir d’una falsa premissa com és la d’assignar una legitimitat continuadora del regne visigot vers el regne astur. 

Està àmpliament estudiada que aquesta màxima no és certa. Els experts han demostrat que les poblacions indígenes cantàbriques —siguin asturs, càntabres o vascons— sempre van mantenir una relació molt distant i bèl·lica amb el món romà, visigot, àrab o carolingi. Per tant, el seu aïllament es deuria més per un problema d’escàs enquadrament administratiu que no pas per una resistència ferotge contra uns conqueridors romans, visigots, àrabs o carolingis. En conseqüència, el pamflet propagandístic que suposen les tres cròniques d’Alfons III d’Astúries —sobretot l’Albeldense, que de fet és d’on surt el famós concepte de Reconquesta— s’han de llegir com allò que són: una legitimació jurídica davant l’opinió pública (i Déu) de l’agressió efectuada contra una part de la població hispànica que l’única cosa que tenen de diferent —respecte a la resta de la població— és que professen una religió diferent.

La voluntat d’alterar la realitat

“In Dei nomine. Ego Ramirus, Dei gratia rex aragonensis, dono tibi, Raimundo [Berengario], barchinonensium comes et marchio, filiam meam in uxorem, cum tocius regni aragonensis integritate, sicut pater meus Sancius, rex, vel fratres mei, Petrus et Ildefonsus…” és, sens dubte, un dels fragments claus de la història de Catalunya que ha suscitat major bel·ligerància historiogràfica, sobretot per la part aragonesa. 

Aquest fragment correspon a les famoses “Capitulacions Matrimonials de Barbastre”, les quals van ser ratificades amb la “Renúncia de Saragossa” —ambdues de l’any 1137— per la qual el rei Ramir II d’Aragó, el Monjo, comunicava públicament als seus súbdits que donava la seva filla, el seu regne i els seus honors al comte Ramon Berenguer IV, comte de Barcelona, i que aquesta donació se segellarà a través del matrimoni entre el comte de Barcelona i la seva filla, Peronella.  

En conseqüència, el comte de Barcelona serà nomenat príncep hereu d’Aragó, i Ramir —tot i mantenir el títol— retornarà al monestir de Sant Pere el Vell d’Osca, d’on va sortir a correcuita per ser coronat rei. Per la seva banda, Peronella —amb tan sols un any— serà enviada a Barcelona per ser educada com a futura comtessa consort de Barcelona i reina d’Aragó. Tretze anys més tard, el comte Ramon Berenguer es casarà amb ella a Lleida, un cop va tenir l’edat legal per fer-ho, o sigui, catorze anys. Aleshores, serà el primogènit d’aquesta unió —Alfons el Trobador— qui esdevindrà la primera persona que ostentarà els dos títols —el de comte i el de rei— la qual cosa legitimarà la nova concepció política sorgida d’aquella donació. 

La realitat històrica no manipulada referma el fet que després de la “Renúncia pública de Saragossa” el regne d’Aragó quedà en un segon pla polític, atès que voluntàriament s’havia desposseït del seu valor successori, element clau al segle XII. Malgrat això, els successius comtes de Barcelona respectaran i mantindran sempre totes les institucions aragoneses, marcant l’inici de la Confederació Catalanoaragonesa. 

Per tant, és bàsic no caure en el parany polític que circula entre certs cercles espanyolistes, els quals argumenten que Peronella d’Aragó fou l’element clau que va permetre annexionar els comtats catalans al regne d’Aragó. Voler fer creure que una princesa d’un any enamori a un comte de Barcelona de vint-i-quatre anys, i que aquest —en plena expansió dels seus dominis— ofereixi els seus territoris a Aragó a canvi d’obtenir “un títol de més prestigi”, és ser un neci! I per reblar el clau, el fet de construir dues genealogies paral·leles —Alfons I de Catalunya és el mateix que Alfons II d’Aragó— demostra que existeix maldat i voluntat de tergiversar la realitat. 

La veritable problemàtica a la qual s’enfronta Aragó a principis del segle XII és la de trobar una solució jurídica al testament del rei Alfons I el Batallador, el qual havent mort sense descendència, havia donat tots els seus territoris als Ordes militars, i això va provocar un terrabastall institucional. Els castellans —aprofitant aquest buit de poder i legitimats per la repudiada exmuller del rei— iniciaren la invasió de Saragossa, seguida per la desconnexió de Navarra a través de la figura de Garcia Ramírez, conegut com el Restaurador. D’aquesta manera, Aragó quedava molt debilitada econòmicament amb el consegüent risc de desaparèixer. 

En contra del que han difós els extremistes aragonesos, la unió d’Aragó amb els comtats catalans va ser l’única sortida viable per a l’oligarquia aragonesa. Va ser l’única forma per frenar la pressió exercida, tant per castellans com per navarresos, i així poder potenciar la seva economia agrària i ramadera amb una sortida clara als mercats mediterranis.

Posar els límits al poder

A finals del segle XI, una nova mentalitat aparegué dins la societat barcelonina, la qual es basà en el treball, la moral empresarial i l’amistat. Per aquest motiu, Barcelona va poder desenvolupar una forma pròpia d’acumulació de capitals, assentada en l’augment i la millora de la producció agrícola del seu territori, cosa que li permeté esdevenir l’epicentre administratiu dels comtats catalans. Les nocions de benefici, d’inversió i de capital cristal·litzen al llarg del segle XII i condueixen als comtes de Barcelona a la conquesta de les ciutats de Tortosa, Lleida i Balaguer, i a l’intent frustrat de conquerir Mallorca. 

I tot plegat serà possible gràcies a un clima d’estabilitat social que després del terrabastall polític que havien suposat les revoltes feudals, es van acabar imposant les convenientiae o pactes feudals entre iguals. A partir d’aleshores, la cultura del pacte es va anar generalitzant per tots els comtats catalans i esdevindrà una de les particularitats de la nostra manera de ser. Fruit d’aquell pacte, es redactaria la primera versió dels Usatges de Barcelona, base del dret consuetudinari català. 

De manera gradual, la sobirania catalana s’anirà repartint entre els diferents braços —comte, noblesa, clergat i ciutadans honrats— que representaran gran part de la societat. Per tant, aquesta política constitucionalista serà un dels trets distintius de la Corona que a partir del segle XIII s’anirà ampliant a mesura que es continuïn executant les polítiques expansionistes comtals. Aquests nous territoris seran configurats com a Estats, on la Corona vetllarà per a mantenir les particularitats de cada territori. Aleshores, Catalunya passarà a definir-se com a Principat, atès que la seva màxima autoritat serà la figura d’un príncep o el primer entre iguals. 

A diferència de la resta de territoris peninsulars —on la problemàtica del poder se centrarà sobre la sacralització— a Catalunya, el conflicte se situarà sobre el seu ús. La constant evolució del dret català acabarà atorgant poder al comte per cessió (entre iguals). Per tant, se l’obligarà a gestionar correctament la seva despesa i a respectar els diferents furs, costums, privilegis o usatges dels seus territoris. D’aquesta manera, es fomentarà el pactisme entre iguals, amb la finalitat d’equilibrar els interessos econòmics entre la noblesa, el clergat i la burgesia, a fi de mantenir l’estabilitat social.  

Com a resultat —i molt abans que els anglesos— les Corts Catalanes esdevindran el model perfecte de parlamentarisme, les quals constituiran el nucli de la tradició pactista catalana que ha arribat fins als nostres dies. Malauradament, amb la derrota del 1714 i la implantació del Decret de Nova Planta, la Confederació Catalanoaragonesa va ser fulminada i esmicolada en diferents províncies d’una nova monarquia centralitzada que governaria per a tota la península Ibèrica sense diferències legals.  

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Newton’s first law states that an object always tends to be either at rest or in motion, rectilinear motion, unless an external force alters its state. Therefore, if a centripetal force acts on this object, it will be trapped by an invisible force called the central force. In this way, the object will see its movement altered, its inertia modified, and it will be difficult for it to return to its original physical state.

The Aragonese economist and historian José Larraz López, a distinguished member of the Royal Academy of Moral and Political Sciences, wrote an interesting book on economics in 1943 entitled ‘La época del mercantilismo en Castilla (1500-1700)’. He was a procurator in Franco’s Cortes and Franco’s minister in 1939, just after the end of the civil war – and therefore a man committed to Franco’s dictatorship to the bone – and when referring to the unity of Spain, he argued that the political reality of that time – between the 15th and 18th centuries – had been very different from that of his own time. Consequently, we could not speak of the existence of a single unitary state – Spain – for all those centuries, which would be the case after the arrival of the Bourbons.

The fact is that both Galicia, Asturias, Cantabria, León and Castile – the original core of the kingdom – and the three Basque provinces – Alava, Guipúzcoa and Vizcaya – plus Extremadura, Andalusia and Murcia will end up forming part of the same integrated body. In this way, the central part of the Iberian Peninsula – the area stretching from the Cantabrian coast to the Strait of Gibraltar – will end up sharing the same border, and the same Cortes will legislate the territories – the Castilian Cortes – which will use the same currency and all together will follow the same economic and fiscal policy. Pardon, except for the three Basque provinces which, from the 14th century onwards, would be exempt from all Castilian taxes. It is therefore clear that the other peninsular territories – Portugal and the Catalan-Aragonese Confederation – were never part of this Castilian matrix.

Indeed, in the mid-15th century, the Iberian Peninsula was divided into five political blocs of unequal importance: Portugal, the territories of the Crown of Castile, the Kingdom of Navarre, the Catalan-Aragonese Confederation and the Muslim Emirate of Granada. In fact, by the middle of the 15th century, each of these groups of territories would eventually acquire a very distinct personality and become original societies with their own customs, their own legal peculiarities, their own institutions and even their own language.

That a historian of the darkest period of the dictatorship – such as José Larraz López – should serve to combat the colossal misinformation or ignorance wanted by current Spanishism should shame a part of the political class, the media – including the ‘influencers’ hidden behind the networks – who time and again, from their supreme tribunes, have not tired and will never tire of proclaiming the existence of a unitary Spain for more than five hundred years.

The Castilian oligarchy -for too long and although speaking Catalan in private-repeats over and over again the same mistake when they speak of Spain as a political reality since the 15th century, referring to it as ‘the oldest nation in Europe’. If they understood once and for all that from the 15th century to the early 18th century, Castile pursued a policy of zero integration of the Mediterranean – and Portuguese – world, and that this was only possible through the use of force, combined with persistent repression and a constant plundering of economic resources in order to modulate their legitimate aspirations, it would surely help them to understand many issues that happen to us today as a state. More specifically, it would help them to understand that the Spanish project – as it has been set out since the arrival of the Bourbons – is totally unsustainable.

The beginning of the Hispanic divergences

After the Navas de Tolosa, Castile definitively entered the interior of the lower Meseta, which provoked a period of extreme euphoria in view of the possibilities offered by the new territory. But it soon realised that, despite its determination, it was encountering the same problem that León had encountered at the end of the 12th century. It was after the Concordia de Benavent – the agreement on the purchase of the kingdom of León by Castile – that Castile – except the Nazarí Kingdom – acquired practically the current perimeter.

The lower plateau, with its mountainous and rugged terrain -especially in the areas closest to the Central system-had land that was unsuitable for agriculture -except for the Guadalquivir valley-, with scarce and poor quality pastures, which, added to the strong climatic variability between summer and winter, were too adverse factors to be able to take control quickly. In addition, there were three even more determining factors: the low birth rate of the population in the north, the lack of mobility of inhabitants from the north to the south – despite the promotion of the ‘presuras’ or territorial divisions – and the consequences of applying an excessively repressive policy against the native population – by arguing nonsense – which culminated in the expulsion of the Andalusian Moriscos.

All these factors would have a very negative impact on the Castilian economy because any manufacturing and commercial activity, such as trade with the East or Africa across the Straits of Gibraltar, would be nipped in the bud. In any case, the Monarchy – in order to prolong its expansionary policy – continued to need to increase its regular income, which contributed to a situation of extreme inflation, resulting in a monetary alteration and generating a permanent deficit in its balance of trade.

As a solution, the Monarchy exerted strong fiscal pressure on some sectors of the population – such as the Jews, for example – but above all on the great transhumant herds of the upper plateau, just at the time when both Flanders and northern Italy were becoming the great buyers of Castilian wool. This plains traffic had catapulted Burgos to the forefront of European cities and turned the Cantabrian Sea into an important maritime axis towards Europe, which stimulated the birth of a textile industry. But all this faded away as soon as the interests of the nobility – the owners of the land, based on ancient rights of conquest – prevailed over any private initiative of the plainsmen, which made it impossible for the economy to flourish in the following centuries.

Faced with economic suffocation, the Monarchy – in order to boost the economy – resorted to the credit offered by the Jewish communities settled in the main Hispanic cities. So it was, sooner rather than later, that kings, nobles, military orders, ecclesiastical communities and ‘councils’ – and even individuals or ‘situados’, as they were known at the time – ended up abusing credit, which in the long run became a real internal problem. Faced with the heavy indebtedness of the Castilian public treasury, the Monarchy – as a result of the generalisation of non-payments – began to reform its financial system, although the real trigger was the promulgation of the Edict of Granada – also known as the Decree of the Alhambra – by which the Catholic Monarchs decreed the expulsion of all Jews from the Hispanic territories, which meant obtaining large assets for the Monarchy in the short term.

As for the rest of the peninsular territories – above all the Mediterranean and the Portuguese Atlantic world – they were able to find in the sea a lever for growth that allowed them to continue with their expansionist policies. For example, the Catalan commercial bourgeoisie was able to take advantage of the consequences of the war with France – the famous crusade of Philip Ardid – to boost its manufacturing industry. The creation of the Consulates of the Sea and the extension of old maritime routes – begun in the 10th century – were the mechanisms of penetration that the Catalan-Aragonese Confederation used to satisfy the demand for its products – rags, iron tools, coral, leather, spices and slaves – both in the mainland markets – Lisbon, Donostia, Bilbao and Seville – and in the foreign markets of Sardinia, Sicily, Bruges, Constantinople, Tunisia and Alexandria.

A territory made up of free people

From the beginning of feudal expansion – at the beginning of the 9th century – the territories of the northwest peninsular were configured under the juridical-administrative formula of ‘dominium’, based on Roman law, which meant that the holder of the land property was a ‘dominus’ or lord. Therefore, the king or the count – the highest figure in the social pyramid – from the beginning became the final owner – directly or indirectly – of all those lands that were expropriated.

It should be borne in mind that no lord would have the slightest interest in owning land, water, herds or mills if there were no peasants capable of organising stable work processes that would lead to the conversion of effort into income. Therefore, with the creation of Extremadura from the 9th century onwards, the Castilian-Leonese expansionist policy was implemented by means of the ‘villa and land’ communities, which would become the key element of political-legal organisation within the ‘new expropriated territories’. In this way, the landscape of the Meseta was articulated on the basis of the foundation of a series of major towns – walled and with representation in the Castilian Cortes – on which depended six or eight unwalled hamlets located around the main town.

For the lords, the real danger lay in the existence – within that vast territory – of free peasant communities that could escape the new jurisdiction. For this reason, they created mechanisms that involved a brutal indebtedness of those communities of ‘villa and land’ through the famous settlement charters or ‘asentamientos’ and the ‘presura’ contracts, so that they would lose all possible mobility, remain attached to the land and, in this way, ensure the return of the debts contracted.

And since the king’s life was so ‘sacrificial’ – it still is today when they indulge in the luxury of elephant hunting – they ended up ceding the land for services rendered to other lords, ecclesiastical bodies or monasteries. Therefore, it depended on who was the final rentier – that is, the owner – whether the land was known as ‘realengas’, if it belonged to the king; if it belonged to an abbot or a bishop; ‘de solariego’, if it belonged to a nobleman or a military order; or de ‘behetría’, if it was the villagers themselves who chose the lord. In the long run, all these types of property would contribute to the formation of the large estates of the region – known as the process of ‘seigniorialisation’ – which, from the 14th century onwards, would lead to the concentration of much power, both economic and territorial, in a very small part of the Castilian population.

Towards a new conception of the state

At the end of the 15th century, the Castilian-Leonese world would end up ‘expropriating’ some 385,000 km² of land – between the upper and lower plateau – on which nearly four and a half million people would live, including the Nassari population. In the rest of the peninsula, the population would be distributed as follows: in the territories of the Catalan-Aragonese Confederation, about nine hundred thousand people would live on about 110,000 km²; about one hundred and twenty thousand people would live on 11,000 km² in Navarre; and in Portugal, one million people would live on 88,000 km².

Castile, although it was the largest territory in the Iberian Peninsula, continued to experience continuous economic and demographic problems, mainly driven by the process of consolidation of ‘seigniorialisation’, to the detriment of the exhausted expansive economy, which had been based on the indiscriminate expropriation of land and the reallocation of property through physical coercion.

Then, during the second half of the 15th century, the Castilian Monarchy began a process of economic transformation through monetary and fiscal reform, which led to a major social imbalance, to the point that it ended up having a direct impact on noble interests. As a result, major disturbances broke out throughout the kingdom and, unable to calm things down, the Monarchy applied a policy of manorial satisfaction by offering more land, more rights and more pensions for life at the expense of the public treasury and financed by a special tax on the population of the towns of the ‘Comuneros0. To top it all off, in the early 16th century, the main Communities of Castile were forced to assume a considerable tax to cover the purchase of the Imperial title – by the Habsburg family – which led to the famous Revolt of the ‘Comuneros’.

Even so, this policy had an insufficient impact in placating the ambitions of the nobility, which brought to light the existence of a much deeper division within the Castilian aristocracy. The existence of two politically antagonistic factions soon became apparent: on the one hand, there were the Pacheco, Villena and Girón families, who were in favour of taking a more active part in the kingdom’s major political decisions and therefore saw the need to weaken the Monarchy in order to control it. On the other hand, there were the Santillanas and Mendozas who understood that the time had come to abstain from power because the Monarchy was the one that had to guarantee the stability of the kingdom to ensure its ‘seigniorial’ privileges… ‘in saecula saeculorum’.

After the Castilian Civil War (1475-1479), the two largest territories of the Iberian Peninsula – the Kingdom of Castile and the Catalan-Aragonese Confederation – created a new political entity known as the Hispanic Monarchy, which was soon joined by Granada (1492), Portugal (1497) and Navarre (1512). That new dynastic state was shaped by the union of only two key elements: the army and foreign policy. For the rest of the elements that would make up the modern state, such as borders, currencies, laws and institutions, they remained completely separate.

Thus, the configuration and distribution of power – agreed by both sides at the Concordia de Segovia – was structured as follows: while Castile was structured according to the sacralised authority of the queen and always above the nobility and the church – thanks to an effective policy of numbing the Cortes – the Catalan-Aragonese Confederation was organised around the Constitution of Observance, which would always oblige the king to govern and make agreements in accordance with the laws of the Principality.

In the long run, Castile would offer less resistance to the Hispanic monarchs, something that would not happen within the Catalan-Aragonese Confederation, which, while respecting all its legal-political realities, would end up limiting the non-agreed initiatives between the different arms – count-king, nobility, clergy and honest citizens – that would represent part of the confederate society. The historian John Elliott in his famous book ‘Imperial Spain (1469-1716)’ very aptly defined it as follows: the Spanish sovereigns (Castilians) were absolute kings in Castile and constitutional monarchs in Aragon (Catalonia).

The unconscious empire

Only chance and the trade winds led the first navigators of the Catalan-Aragonese Confederation to the most populated area of the American continent. From the very beginning of the westward voyages, the first navigators were certain and aware that where they had arrived was not the East Indies, but a completely different territory. Realising this fact, the Castilian Monarchy deployed all its modern legal and administrative machinery to legitimately possess it. Without entrusting itself to anyone and by right of conquest, the Monarchy once again claimed ownership of those territories, ignoring the indigenous population.

The discovery of important deposits of precious metals – between Mexico and Peru – led to the founding or re-founding of important American cities, which acquired a new territorial role in order to ensure a regular flow of wealth to Castile. Thus, acting as nouveau riche, Castile would spend an indecent amount of economic resources to build its concept of civilisation, based on Catholicism. This obsession – sometimes uncontrolled – would lead them to embark on a myriad of conflicts of all kinds, such as theological disputes, family conflicts, commercial affairs or lavish megalomaniac constructions.

However, at the beginning of the 17th century, the American mines began to show signs of depletion, which became more pronounced as the century progressed. Faced with this slowdown, and in order to maintain the same rate of expenditure, the Monarchy resorted to loans from German banks – the Fuggers and the Welsers – and the Genoese banks of the Spinola, Centurione, Balbi, Strata and, above all, Gio Luca Pallavicino families. It would then be forced to raise taxes and exert fiscal pressure on the whole of Hispanic society. We remember the famous ‘Union of Arms’ of the Duke of Olivares. Faced with a generalised avalanche of non-payments, the State entered into a process of successive bankruptcies (1627, 1647, 1652 and 1662), which contributed to projecting a very unfavourable image of Spain in the eyes of the other European chancelleries.

Spain’s history is still stigmatised today by a ‘black legend’ conceived between the 16th and 17th centuries – both by the Lutherans of Wittenberg and the Dutch of Dillenburg – which sought to chip away at its hegemony in the world. Subsequently, in order to control the raw materials of the Castilian and Portuguese colonies, the English would amplify Protestant propaganda as a key element of discrediting the colonial elites, something that would help them to initiate and finance the independence processes of the Spanish colonies throughout the 19th century.

The Bourbon drift

Castile – and later Spain – has always found itself in a dangerous vicious circle, in which the State’s expenditure has been excessive, and it has needed to continually increase taxes to balance its income, which has led – over a prolonged period of time – to an excessive fiscal pressure on the population as a whole.

With the entry of the Bourbons – after a long campaign to discredit the Habsburgs – the economic problems worsened when, through the use of continuous loans, on-lending, negotiations and renegotiations, these only served to satisfy their personal ‘grandeur’, to the detriment of the modernisation of society by the Enlightenment spirit that prevailed throughout Europe.

The Bourbons were always aware that the only way to economically sustain the entire Hispanic kingdom was to annex all the peninsular territories and thus form a new geopolitical hexagon. However, this was not possible because from the end of the 17th century, Portugal was no longer part of the Hispanic Monarchy, although attempts were made to annex it on three occasions during the 19th and 20th centuries. Therefore, efforts could only focus on the territories of the Levant peninsular which, first with the War of Succession and then with the Nueva Planta Decrees, allowed the Bourbons to link productive sectors – master craftsmen and merchants – to the new centralist system. As a result, this loyalty to the Bourbons allowed those who supported the new regime to gain access to large public contracts, which led to their absolute dependence on the new centralist system, which ended up weaving a web of widespread corruption at all levels of public administration.

There is no shortage of examples, such as when at the beginning of the 19th century Queen Maria Cristina – widow of Ferdinand VII – handed over power to the Spanish liberals, who at the same time made a pact with the Catalan industrial bourgeoisie to forge a self-interested political and socio-biological alliance that would materialise with the institution of a protectionist system. In this way, the Catalan mercantile tradition was squandered and the spirit of 1705 was betrayed, because the Bourbon refusal to free trade the Principality with England and the Netherlands – its main trading partners – initiated the whole process that would converge on 11 September 1714.

Nor did the establishment of the ‘democratic regime of “78” improve matters for the interests of the Levant peninsular. In fact, we Catalans, Valencians and Balearic Islanders suffer the consequences on a daily basis when, year after year, we contribute a massive amount of our GDP to the State coffers for the sake of a ‘solidarity-based centrality’ and, let us remember, with the approval of politicians, industrialists and bankers. And the story continues to the present day, when after a politically and socially intense decade, the State has just proposed to Catalonia – soon it will also propose it to Valencia and the Islands – a singular financing, surely conditioned by a great solidarity.

History had already warned Philip II when he visited his father, Emperor Charles of Habsburg, for the last time in the monastery of Yuste, when he advised him that if he wanted to increase the empire, he should locate the capital in Lisbon, because this would mean linking it to the New World; if he wanted to preserve it, he should locate it in Barcelona, in other words, link it to the classical tradition; and if he wanted to lose it, he should locate the capital in Madrid. And indeed, Madrid was the most poorly communicated capital in Europe until the beginning of the 20th century, when, thanks to the development of airlines and the construction of reservoirs, it managed to revitalise that solitude in the middle of the Castilian plateau.

We return to Newton. And how can we move from a centripetal force to a centrifugal force? Well, this will only be possible if there is a tangential acceleration that allows the velocity modulus of the object to vary and, in this way, it will be able to return to its original physical state. So, will technological innovation bring about an acceleration of the economic movement that, by taking advantage of ‘Open Banking’ and ‘Embedded Finance’, will bring about the tangential force that will make it possible to return to our original stage? It is up to us to achieve this!

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And the next day, nothing was ever the same again. The Catalan state disappeared ‘ipso facto’ with the abolition of the Generalitat, the municipal dismemberment and the annulment of the Catalan constitutions following the loss of the War of Succession (1701 -1714). After this, the only administration that remained active in Catalonia was the army of occupation, which, by maintaining some 25,000 permanent soldiers within the Principality, consolidated the Bourbon objective by means of harsh repression that would last until the mid-18th century. But not everyone faired badly…

As a result of the victory, the elite of the Bourbon army was permanently installed in Catalonia: the Royal Castilian Guards and the Royal Walloon Guards, reinforced by other special military occupation contingents. The total number of troops deployed throughout Catalonia was 47% of the total for the rest of the Iberian Peninsula. And if we add those deployed in the rest of the territories of the Catalan Countries – Valencia, Majorca and Aragon – the figure rises to 65%. A full-blown invasion.

The drafting of the Nueva Planta Decree would turn Catalonia into just another province of a new centralised monarchy that would rule over the entire Iberian Peninsula without legal differences. Thus, the dream of a Hispanic monarchy based on the existence of different kingdoms and cultural realities on the peninsula would crumble, but it would not disappear. From then on, there would only be a single Cortes, those of Castile, which would represent the whole of the peninsular territories, but would focus on a new political construction structured around identifying Castile with the new state.

Eighteenth-century Catalonia would be a territory governed solely by the military. The supreme head of the administration of Catalonia would be the Captain General. Territorial administration – the ‘corregimientos’ – would be in the hands of the ‘corregidores’, who would always be military men. Public order – in the first instance – would always be in the hands of the army and the famous “Veciana Squads”. This institution was founded in 1719 by Pere Anton Veciana Rabassa, a deserter from the Austracist cause who in early 1713 decided to place himself at the service of the Bourbon king and create a paramilitary and police organisation that would work at the service of the Captain General -Francisco Pío de Saboya y Moura-, with the mission of continuing to repress internal Bourbon resistance.

Veciana would set up a system of criminal files – known as ‘summary files’ – which would enable the corps to systematise police information. He also created a network of informers throughout the territory and organised the first agents to infiltrate the resistance. In 1735, Veciana had to resign his post for reasons of age, and it was then that the Captain General transferred the responsibilities of the corps to his son, Pere Màrtir Veciana. From then on, the command of the corps would be inherited by the Veciana family for five generations, until 1836.

Repression and state terrorism

For eleven years, Catalonia was subjected to harsh military repression, which lasted until 1725, when, through the Treaty of Vienna between the representatives of Philip V of Castile and Charles VI of Austria, the two sides mutually recognised each other’s succession rights and put an end to the dynastic dispute.

And what happened to the supporters who fought in favour of the Archduke of Austria’s choice? During the war, as the Bourbon armies occupied the Principality, a kind of ‘military terrorism’ was applied, which consisted of persecuting the local population, regardless of the degree of connection they had had with the Austracist cause, with the aim of undermining morale. After the fall of Barcelona, the main military commanders who had not been able to flee to Austria – such as Antoni de Villarroel – were indiscriminately persecuted and sent to prisons scattered around the Iberian Peninsula. Most of them ended up dying without ever regaining their freedom, while others were sent to the galleys.

The long post-war period allowed the repression to continue against all the armed elements that were still fighting against the new legal system, such as the notorious ‘carrasclets’. But all those families whose members were in exile in Austria were also persecuted and forbidden from maintaining any correspondence. The losers of the war were to have their property seized and all their rights revoked. They would even be banned from taking part in all public tenders or applying for state aid.

The establishment of permanent contingents in Catalonia would lead to a significant increase in military demand due to the need to supply royal troops. According to the General Manuals of the Quartermaster’s Office of Catalonia – an institution created to manage the post-war period – between 1714 and 1735 a total of 271 ‘asientos’ or contracts directly related to the supply of materials to the army and navy are recorded: gunpowder, weapons, artillery trains, uniforms, food, ironwork for horses.

The ‘asientos’ were also used for the construction or supply of barracks, such as the Ciutadella, and to produce everything necessary for subsequent Bourbon military campaigns, such as those in Italy. And this supply would come about thanks to the existence of a considerable productive, commercial and financial structure that had remained unchanged despite the war, and which would be capable of solvently producing the ‘seats’ that the monarchy would need over the following decades.

Catalan collaborationism

So, the question to ask ourselves is clear: how was it possible to maintain a Catalan productive structure in the context of the war at the beginning of the 18th century? How was it possible to supply the Bourbon army during the invasion of Catalonia and the siege of Barcelona in a territory that was completely unknown to them? Well, with the help of local characters who supplied, lent or helped the Bourbon army of occupation with food, money and logistics throughout that turbulent period. They were a group of merchants who changed sides – just like Pere Anton de Veciana – in search of a more favourable personal situation and taking advantage of the circumstances to improve their social and economic position.

Names such as the Milans of Arenys, the Mates and Lapeira of Mataró or the Massiques of Vilassar and many others would be great family names that would establish their prestige throughout the 18th century for having obtained important privileges as thanks for the services rendered during the occupation of the Principality. Many of these “illustrious” figures would be placed in key institutions for the deployment and execution of the Nueva Planta Decree, because otherwise it would not have been possible.

The new regime would pass “a disinfectant cotton wool over Catalonia”, in order to subsequently build a new network of local loyalties that would consolidate it within the territory. This reason why they were placed at the head of key institutions, such as the General Treasury (Catalonia’s taxation), the General Intendancy (Catalonia’s supply and logistics), the Confiscations of Catalonia (seizure of property) and the Bureau de Change (communal bank), a minority but large sector of the Principality’s population who, for various reasons, sided with the Bourbon proposal. In this way, the monarchy combined the principle of authority, as represented by the laws deployed in the Nueva Planta Decree, with a large institutional bureaucracy and flexibility with certain local social sectors, mainly the master craftsmen and merchants, who had sufficient economic resources to boost the economy.

The self-interested attachment of these sectors of Catalan society to the new Bourbon State gave them access to new sources of income derived directly from the new policies of Bourbon absolutism. Loyalty would give them access to large public contracts, which would lead to widespread corruption at all levels of public administration.

Until the end of the 1740s, Catalonia underwent a painful period of adaptation to its new status as a defeated nation, always suspected of disaffection. From then on, economic policy decisions were no longer taken in Barcelona, but at the Bourbon Court, following criteria based on the dreams of grandeur of the new reigning monarchy, regardless of the needs of its subjects.

BASIC BIBLIOGRAPHY

Benet Oliva i Ricós: ‘Els proveïdors catalans de l’exèrcit borbònic durant el setge de Barcelona de 1713/1714’, Universitat de Barcelona, Barcelona, 2014.

David Ferré Gispets: Els efectes del “Contractor State” borbònic a la Catalunya d’inicis del segle XVIII, Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona, Bellaterra, 2019.

Josep Maria Delgado Ribas: ‘Barcelona i el model econòmic de l’absolutisme borbònic: un tret per la culata’, Barcelona Quaderns d’Història, 23 (2016), pàg. 225-242.

Josep Juan Vidal: ‘Les conseqüències de la guerra de Successió: nous imposts a la Corona d’Aragó, una penalització o un futur impuls per al creixement econòmic?’, Universitat de les Illes Balears, Palma de Mallorca, 2013.

Find out about the families that were enriched by the defeat of 1714 on 11Onze TV.

They tried, but they could not whitewash history. The memory of the past has to endure in order to learn from mistakes and not fall into the same traps. The victors were determined to alter historical reality and keep the ‘I’ above the ‘you’. But, winds from the north helped to change the situation and, with will, perseverance, and the courage of many women, they managed to put things in their place. We continue with the historical exercise is giving us on the approach to the History of Contemporary Women.

The establishment of ultra-conservatism within Spanish society – after the Civil War – was only a momentary effervescence lacking in real solutions. The international legitimisation obtained by the regime, which materialised at the end of the 1940s and had unsettled the opposition, did not bring any substantial improvement in terms of economic stability, nor in terms of the structural improvements Spain needed. On the other hand, repression did make it possible to achieve strict control over demands in all areas.

But twenty-five years after the end of the Civil War, Francoism was given a second chance to transform itself. The power offered by the massive influx of foreign capital – under the supervision of the International Monetary Fund – allowed the regime to move from autarky to unprecedented economic growth. It was through the implementation of the famous stabilisation plans initiated in the late 1950s that Spain entered the 20th century.

And to commemorate that event – the end of the war – Francoism launched an extensive propaganda campaign with the sarcastic slogan: “XXV Years of Peace”. The event served to exalt and legitimise the regime internationally as the guarantor of peace, order, progress, and stability. Blinded by “desarrollismo”, the Francoist dictatorship took advantage of the event to spread its extraordinary political oxymoron: organic democracy – now evolved into a parliamentary monarchy – which would allow it to survive for a few more decades. Many more!

Even so, it was still only a facelift on the outside, given that social and political improvements were still to come on the inside. Then, unknowingly – or not – the “economic miracle” favoured the emergence of the consumer society that would contribute to greater mobility of the population, which would give them access to a different type of information. All of this would lead to a progressive loss of influence of the Church – especially in the domestic sphere – and the emergence of new social and sexual habits.

The progressive European model led the regime to evolve

Fashions and customs from Europe brought about a significant change in the mentality of the 1960s generation. In spite of everything, openness – following European canons – forced the regime to accept the return of women to the world of work, which, together with the arrival of foreign tourists and the resurgence of feminism, caused the Francoist model of women – submissive, domestic and Catholic – to gradually crumble.

Nevertheless, Francoism fought this foreign social interference to the very end. From the airwaves, the regime supported the radio programme ‘Consultorio de Elena Francis’, which became an authentic sociological phenomenon for decades. Therefore, the dictatorship – through the ‘Women’s Section’ – used this medium to continue transmitting its ultra-conservative ideology and morals toward women.

The ‘Consultorio de Elena Francis’ recommended that women should be in self-denial, resignation, look the other way, turn a blind eye, be patient, wait for things to change or sacrifice themselves for their children and family. In reality, the background to women’s daily lives was different: single housewives, relegated to the home and housework, sexuality linked to motherhood, homosexuality ignored or rejected, an indissoluble marriage and guilt always attributable to women. Outrageous!

The official discourse pivoted towards “desarrollismo”, the welfare and progress of Spain, and the regime tirelessly sought to leave behind all echoes that would lead to the recovery of the memory of the Civil War. For this reason – and intentionally – the voices of thousands of people who had to cross the border in January 1939 were gradually silenced for decades. Thousands of exiles had been officially rejected by the Dictatorship and forced to become stateless.

“Spaniards, Franco is dead”.

After the death of the dictator, many disturbing questions arose within Spanish society. One of the first was: What had become of the exiles? Montserrat Roig y Fransitorra (1946-1991) answered it.

Montserrat Roig’s work ‘Els catalans als camps nazis‘ (1977) showed a reality hidden by Franco’s regime and unknown to many of the generations born after the 1940s. She gave a face and a voice to the entire generation that had to go into exile because they were at odds with the war’s victors. Roig managed to undo the fear that prevented many of the protagonists of exile and the Holocaust from speaking out. She recovered from anonymity such powerful women with such an intense life as, for example, Neus Català, who gave an account of her life as a resistance fighter in France and her stay in the Nazi concentration camp of Ravensbrück.

The echo of this document of testimony about the life of exiles in Nazi concentration camps was so immense that it brought Roig great notoriety in the society of the late 1970s. A few years later, she would expand the story of the deportees in the third part of his novel ‘L’hora violeta’ (1980). Before working on the forgotten exile, the author – winner of the Sant Jordi Prize for her novel ‘El temps de les cireres’ (1976) – had sought a meaning to life – from Natàlia’s feminine point of view – in late-Francoist Barcelona. For all these reasons, Montserrat Roig would become one of the most widely read and admired writers in contemporary Catalan literature. In fact, her aura still lives on!

From this point onwards, however, Montserrat Roig’s narrative would gradually change, as she experienced a profound disenchantment with the new political reality that was being constructed. On the one hand, her view of the incipient democratic state – what has been defined as the ‘Model Transition’ – led her to have serious problems with censorship and prohibitions with the public body that had contracted her to carry out a series of television interviews. The scandal was so huge that it even reached the Spanish Congress and Senate. On the other hand, the imposition of the Pujolist vision of what Catalonia should be like – which she did not share – led her to focus more on literature, on researching her unique and non-transferable voice. Shortly before her death – of breast cancer, by the way – she published a compilation of articles with the suggestive title ‘Digues que m’estimes encara que sigui mentida’ (Say You Love Me Even If I Lie), in which she reflected on her personal universe – as a woman and a storyteller – and analysed the cultural society in which she lived.

In the essay ‘Digues que m’estimes encara que sigui mentida’, Montserrat Roig talks about literature as an alibi to fix the time that flees inclement. She talks to us about the manipulations of memory and the media. She teaches us to see Barcelona through a window through which the gaze of a woman author looks out in a world dominated by the canons of male creation. And, above all, she confesses a series of reflections that sound terribly close to us, because they explain things to us about the personal geographies and collective homelands that we share.

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We continue our approach to the history of contemporary women. In this case, we do so by recalling the figure of Carme Karr, who embodied progressive feminism between the 19th and 20th centuries and played a key role in the establishment of universal women’s suffrage.

History has been written by men. For centuries, the male gender has constructed a narrative around its deeds – mainly in the public sphere – and has minimised or ignored women’s contributions.

War, politics, diplomacy or management have built this reality. Therefore, the role given to women has been typically reserved for their gender: wife, mother, daughter, lover… To put it simply, the masculine vision has ended up imposing itself on the feminine reality.

Since ancient times, the sexual differentiation of work has led to a distribution of tasks according to sex, largely driven by biological characteristics. The evolution of societies based on this distinction would end up provoking a differentiated apprenticeship between women and men, which capitalism would transform into resounding inequality.

Voices of protest

At the same time, voices were raised that, through knowledge, ability, and intelligence, would energetically combat gender-based social injustice and express a clear desire to achieve full equality between men and women, even if it cost them their lives.

Catalan society at the beginning of the 20th century did not know how to handle the impact of the appearance of Carme Karr y Alfonsetti (1865-1943) on Barcelona’s intellectual scene. The fact that she was born in a bourgeois, cosmopolitan and European environment – together with her mastery of several languages – gave her a great breadth of vision.

History has recognised her as the country’s first regularly published journalist. She had gained experience on the staff of the magazines ‘Juventud’ and ‘El Adelanto’. But she is most widely known for her work as the head of the magazine ‘Feminal’.

A feminist megaphone

From this megaphone of gender freedom – created and designed for women – Karr would work intensely to elevate the intellect of the female readers who sat down to read at the recently created Biblioteca Popular de la Dona (Women’s Popular Library).

With countless top-level contributors and contributions from all over Europe, ‘Feminal’ acted to vigorously vindicate the role of women in society. The topics it covered were not usually trivial, but highlighted, above all, pervasive issues of common interest. The annals of journalism will remember the written confrontation between Carme Karr and Eugeni d’Ors in their debate on the intellectual capacity of women in tackling such “complex” cultural subjects as poetry, art, and music. No doubt about who got scalded!

It was through her writings that Karr projected a model of womanhood based on modernity and humanism. The key to her ideology hinged, firstly, on the acquisition of a female culture of her own, a basic factor for the progress of society. And then, in obtaining absolute recognition of all their rights.

Culture and feminism, together in public for the first time

It was on Wednesday 6 April 1910 that a woman was allowed to speak in public about culture and feminism for the first time. And it had even more merit to do so in front of an audience that was mainly male and not at all accustomed to listening to women, as was the Atenu Barcelonès at the beginning of the 20th century.

Today’s curiosity evokes the question of how those men must have felt when they heard from the mouth of a woman, and probably for the first time, the importance of normalising the world of women within their patriarchal society.

This discourse is widely remembered as it openly addressed the need to create institutions exclusively for women’s education. These centres of culture for women were to become the fundamental tool that would enable them to acquire the appropriate professional level and thus pave the way to full equality in the workplace.

In addition to the renaissance strategy, it was also necessary to work on the regulation of more gender-specific issues, such as mutual insurance companies to protect them during maternity or the creation of female labour exchanges.

Echoed in Madrid

It was a resounding success. The social impact of the conference was such that it had to be repeated on the following two Wednesdays: 13 and 20 April. But it didn’t stop there. The demands reached Madrid, in a letter sent to the Catalan Solidarity MP Francesc Macià. The future 122nd president of the Generalitat of Catalonia understood that this demand was legitimate and necessary to modernise Catalan society.

This was a turning point for Carme Karr. In the early 1920s, the journalist became an activist, and one of the first actions she undertook in this new phase was to promote the association Acció Femenina, which worked tirelessly to establish universal suffrage for women, among other actions.

The concept of universal women’s suffrage that Carme Karr defended was much closer to the British and American suffragettes than to the National Association of Spanish Women (ANME), which they considered too radical.

The 1929 Barcelona International Exhibition was a perfect megaphone for Catalonia and for Carme Karr to show the world that Catalan society was already modern. Carme Karr was entrusted with the direction of the Women’s Pavilion, the content of which was designed to break down the prejudices of the time about women.

A short-lived breakthrough

The Second Republic brought universal suffrage for women throughout the state. For the first time, women could vote. History had done justice after so many decades of effort and legitimate demands. In this way, conservative feminism, which argued that the social role of women had to focus on two areas: the family and religion, was imposed.

But the victory was short-lived. Carme Karr was deeply affected by the outbreak of the Civil War, the establishment of Franco’s regime, and the outbreak of the Second World War.

For an intelligent, freedom-loving, and absolutely pacifist person, it was difficult for her to understand how a gang of obtuse people were imposing by force, a model of women that forced them to return to their homes and be removed from public life. Seeing decades of effort vanish in an instant pushed her into a depressive abyss.

Thanks to the work of Carme Karr and her contemporaries, universal women’s suffrage became a reality throughout the state. That generation of women worked for the creation of a feminine consciousness that claimed the need to articulate a culture from the feminine self.

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