Few of those who venture south of the Pyrenees can fail to note the locals’ particular propensity for extremes; regional variation granted, the typical Iberian sways violently from passionate extroversion one moment to melancholic contemplation the next, expresses his emotions with little inhibition or restraint, and approaches life with an “all or nothing” attitude. He or she has difficulty grasping the Anglo-Saxon enthusiasm for balance and small pleasures; indeed, the notion of ‘moderation’ often implies an element of blandness. No surprise, then, that the Spanish lead Europe in the strength of their drinks, their passion for gambling, their indulgence in caffeine and illegal drugs.And if Britain is a nation marked by its decaffeinated, ‘grey’ Protestantism, the socio-historic landscape of Spain is defined by the darkest of blacks and the purist of whites. A fault line divides the country, marking two extremes of self-perception, and it can be traced back over half a millennium.
The poet Antonio Machado (1875-1936) famously lamented the binary nature of his compatriots, describing the “Two Spains […] a Spain that dies and a Spain that yawns”. Whilst radical Spain races towards the future with revolutionary fervor, reactionary Spain gazes with jaded nostalgia into a past of stern, cold Catholic observance. The roots of this rift can be found way back in the Reconquest of the peninsular from the Moors and the resulting ethnically mixed society. Authority’s self-identification with extreme, unquestioning religious orthodoxy and obsessive concern with “clean blood” inevitably led to the emergence of a semi-subversive, heterodox opposition in the form of freethinkers, gypsies, and those of Jewish or Arabic descent. Indeed, according to the historian Américo Castro, the major works of Spanish literature can be categorised according to ‘establishment’ and ‘anti-establishment’ genres. In short, in Spain the antagonism between extremes, between conservatives and progressives, is both remarkably aggressive and, historically, clearly delineated.So much so that each camp has its own version of the national narrative. The squeaky-clean, heretic-bashin’ Catholic past of the country and the characteristics that this implies - self-reliance, intense faith, asceticism and so on - define the so-called “White Legend”, the side of events pushed by monarchists, the church, Francoists and rural conservatives. On the opposite parapet stands a motley collection comprised of dissident humanists of the 17th century, Enlightenment thinkers of the 18th, democratic liberals of the 19th and socialists - revolutionary and otherwise - of the 20th, united by their adherence to the “Black Legend”, the story of the massacres of innocents by bloodthirsty Conquistadores, Inquisitors, Monarchs and Fascists, of the expulsions of ethnic minorities, of a streak of cruel intolerance running through the chronicles of the nation. For the essence of this past look no further than the history of Spanish painting: pious self-flagellation in gloomy cells, swirling mists of incense and blood, horrific, anatomical nightmares resound. No charming Gainsborough, no playful Impressionists, no cheeky Warhol.
This historical distinction goes far beyond the concepts of Left and Right. The question of whether a Spaniard recognises the Black or White interpretation of his national heritage can involve his identity, behaviour and sense of aesthetics. Take for example the current Socialist government: the Spain that is keen to break with the past, forward-looking and wary of flag-waving bombast. Under Prime Minister Zapatero we have seen a frenzy of modern architecture, radical social liberalisation distancing the country from the shame of the Franco years and, most controversially, a “Law of Historical Memory” which effectively writes the Black Legend into the law books by recognising the crimes against humanity committed in the Civil War and under Franco. Honours have been posthumously bestowed upon the International Brigades, graves dug up to document the atrocities, and a new investigation launched under the slick, left-leaning “superjudge” Baltasar Garzón.Of course, the other half of the country which, whilst not wholeheartedly supportive of Franco’s government, considers the period a “dictablanda” (a ‘soft’ dictatorship) and sees the new moves as, at best, unnecessary navel-gazing and, at worst, a dangerous act of revenge by those that, historically, have been the victims of conservatism.
But look again at the nature and circumstances of Zapatero’s new laws and, as unbreachable as the divide may seem, there are subtle signs that after centuries the country’s social schizophrenia could slowly be on the wane. Whisper it softly, but the young adults of modern Spain, those who have only ever lived under democracy, are reconciling the splits within the generation that grew up under Franco (that of their parents) and the generation that remembers the Civil War (that of their grandparents). How so? Thanks to the unprecedented situation in which the nation finds itself.
Spain’s past can be seen as a vicious circle of decline and conservatism, beginning within a century of the completion of the Reconquest in 1492. Amongst the ruling classes national decline led to nostalgia for a lost Golden Age, entrenching conservatism and a closed-mindedness that brought further decline. It is only over the past thirty years that Spain has climbed out of this cycle, dragged into the present by economic development, increasing cultural interaction with the wider world and the modest, diplomatically established victory of liberalism. The sheer speed of change has tripped up the historical process and realigned the “Two Spains” onto a less factional, more European basis: that of age. Rather than oppressed against oppressors, establishment against subversion, the modern Spanish political spectrum sees the young predominantly in favour of progress and the old tend towards conservatism.In this light Zapatero, whose key bastion of support is Spain’s youth, will go down in history as the man who led a generation to overcome the legacy of its ancestors.
For all that the “Law of Historical Memory” has irked the “Spain that yawns”, it is worth noting that the conservative Popular Party has already dropped its opposition to several parts of the project. Further initiatives, such as official apologies to the half a million Jews expelled from Spain and a church apology for the crimes of the Spanish Inquisition (nobody expected that…), support the argument that, once the dust has settled, government authority will have enacted a dramatic and lasting break from the conflicts of the past. And so it is that the White Legend is being overcome and the violence and oppression of Spain’s past recognised and put to rest. The divide between the Spains is closing, breaking down and becoming more fluid, the two brought together by the consensus, painful though it may be, that, when it comes to national self-perception, the Black Legend is the new black…
