Ethnicity and Violence

The Case of Radical Basque Nationalism

Diego Muro

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2013
• Topic: History
• eBook ISBN:
  9781134167685
• Subtopic: European History
• Index: History

This book provides a genealogy of radical Basque nationalism and the means by which this complex, often violent, political movement has reinforced Basque identity. Radical nationalists are mobilized by a shared frame of reference where ethnicity and violence are intertwined in a nostalgic recreation of a golden age and a quasi-religious imperative to restore that distant past. Muro critically examines the origins of the ethno-nationalist conflict and provides a comprehensive examination of Euskadi Ta Askatusana's (ETA) violent campaign. The book analyzes the interplay of ethnicity and violence and stresses the role of inherited myths, memories, and cultural symbols to explain the ability of radical Basque nationalism to endure.

1The Basque Golden Age

The relationship between the nation and its past first attracted the attention of the French historian and theologian Ernest Renan (1823–1892). In a famous lecture delivered at the Sorbonne, Qu’est-ce qu’une nation? (1882), he suggested that the nation’s existence was founded upon the desire to live together or, in his famous phrase, ‘a daily plebiscite’. He defined the nation as ‘a soul, a spiritual principle’ and at once linked this definition of the nation to the existence of shared memories:

two things, which in truth are but one, constitute this soul or spiritual principle. One lies in the past, one in the present. One is the possession in common of a rich legacy of memories; the other is present-day consent, the desire to live together, the will to perpetuate the value of the heritage that one has received in an undivided form. (Renan 1990: 19)

For Renan, it was the existence of a shared history which he defined as ‘a rich legacy of memories’ that forged the national community. The large aggregate of individuals that made up the nation was bound together by these common memories. The cement of their identity was not the past itself (what actually happened) but by what the community told one another in the present (what they remembered). ‘Getting history wrong’, in Renan’s words, was a precondition of nationalist history because it required both an act of collective remembering and collective amnesia. From this point of view, it was not the scientific history that bound together the national community. Rather, it was the myths and symbols, the legends, the ballads, the epics, and the songs that were perceived as ‘original’ and ‘authentic’. The content of these might not be entirely true and, in fact, they might have fictitious elements, but they were important insofar as they ‘resonated’ among the masses.

The extent to which a ‘legacy of memories’ could be fabricated was examined by Eric J. Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger in The Invention of Tradition (1983). This collection of essays was concerned with the role played in modern societies by constructed versions of ‘the past’ and examined the ‘mass-producing’ rituals that emerged in the period between 1870 and the outbreak of the Great War in 1914. The contributors to the volume examined rituals such as the royal Christmas broadcast, the British coronation ceremony, or the Highland tradition in Scotland and argued that these ‘invented traditions’ were ‘highly relevant’ to the analysis of the nation. Hobsbawm and Ranger argued that ‘invented tradition’ was taken to mean ‘a set of practices, normally governed by overtly or tacitly accepted rules and of a ritual or symbolic nature, which seek to inculcate certain values and norms of behaviour by repetition, which automatically implies continuity with the past. In fact, where possible, they normally attempt to establish continuity with a suitable historic past’ (Hobsbawm & Ranger 1983: 1–2).

During the course of the nineteenth century most European states indulged in the fabrication of traditions and the recording of their ‘national memory’. Nations began to worship themselves through the ritualisation of their pasts and the establishment of public commemorations. In spite of being a secular movement, nationalism gradually incorporated the sacredness of organised religion by adopting temples, holy sites, and national holidays. For example, the Third Republic adopted La Marseillaise as the national anthem in 1879 and a year later, in 1880, Bastille Day was invented. The building of this new ritual and commemorative agenda was not free of challenge. Many refused to participate in these newly created rituals which took time to be consolidated. In Philadelphia, the place where the American Declaration of Independence was signed in 1776, there was no consensus on how the anniversary should be honoured until the 1850s (Gillis 1994: 9).

Renan’s most perceptive observation was that as the collective memory of the nation was constructed (and more stories were left behind) there would be a rise of counter-discourses. Marginalised memories, Renan warned, would become aware of their origins, their defeats and the injustices they had suffered. The dominant national history (and its chief architects) would be both contested and fragmented and repressed memories would surface. The twentieth century offers ample evidence for this pluralisation of narratives of resistance. Entire social groups first challenged and then gained admission to national memories: from women, Jews, homosexuals, workers, and exiles to indigenous communities and various ethnic groups. All these collectives had a common grievance: they did not appear in the so-called official histories, and they wanted their lost past to be restored and preserved. In fact, they all shared in common the interest in studying and learning the past in order to avoid being left out again. In order to prevent future exclusion, these groups celebrated their present successes but also remembered their losses and defeats in an attempt to internalise the collective suffering of the community.

According to ethno-symbolist authors,¹ the form and content of any rediscovered past depends on the political needs of the group but also on the availability of what they call ‘raw materials’. Anthony D. Smith has argued that these raw materials are reliable written sources on which a robust national discourse can be built. If a nationalist project is to have a significant impact, he warns, elites have to be careful about neglecting existing ethnic resources. Eric J. Hobsbawm made a similar point when arguing that elites have to broadcast on the wavelength to which the public is ready to tune in. Throughout history, intellectuals and politicians have usually taken a middle course and have recreated popular beliefs and conducts while, at the same time, adding the elements dictated by the historical context in which they lived. Hence, a certain degree of fabrication is always present, as it is the case with any narrative, but this can vary significantly from case to case. The point the next section makes is that at the core of nationalist narratives there is often a mythical idea of a glorious past.

1.1 A NATION’S GOLDEN AGE: A NECESSARY MYTH

The first reference to the Golden Age can be found in Hesiod’s Works and Days, a Greek poem about moral decay composed after 700 B.C. The poem was divided into three parts and it is written in a simple, moralising style which provides practical advice on farming and general husbandry. The work has been described as a poetic manual and an early example of didactic poetry, which is meant to be instructive rather than entertaining, but it is also the response of a troubled individual to changes that have occurred in his world. In the first part, Hesiod traces the history of the world through five stages: from the age of gold to silver, bronze, demigods, and, finally, his own age of iron. For Hesiod, the members of the Golden Age had been created by Cronus and ‘lived like gods’. They were also free from ‘toils and grief’, never grew old, and ‘delighted in festivities beyond all evils’. In short, ‘they had all good things’. The poem continues describing the members of the other ages (which were not created by Cronus but his son, Zeus) and their relations with the gods in what is a clear narrative of humankind’s degeneration which culminates in the present day Iron race, into which Hesiod wished he had never been born. The final age, the antithesis of the Golden Age, is the decadent Iron Age: ‘for now the race is indeed of iron. Not ever during the day will men cease from labor and grief; not even at night will they cease from being oppressed’ (Hesiod 1996: 67–73). As with other myths, it is difficult to know whether Hesiod’s remarks about the past were in any way accurate or were just a nostalgic recollection of the ‘good old days’. What is clear is that the world in which he lived was imperfect and he felt all was lost.

Neither fiction nor a chronicle, the Golden Age is a mixture of history and legend. According to Smith, the concept has been used to describe epochs of ‘moral virtue and literary and artistic creativity’ for any ‘collective achievement from religious zeal to military expansion and economic success’ (Smith 1997: 40). As an idealised construction of the past, the myth is usually constructed by those who need to bear the burden of a ‘period of darkness’. Correspondingly, the emergence of a myth of the Golden Age becomes an almost infallible indicator for a historical time in which there is a perception of decline, as the case of Hesiod indicates. The Golden Age is usually born in historical twilights or times in which rapid social and economic changes take place. Very often it is a reaction to a definite political or military threat from outside the community (Smith 1999: 83). However, the myth is also the result of imagination while being in contradiction with reality. It can be considered an exercise in escapism, but reality also tends to manifest itself in it. That is the reason why myths have contradictory structures. Desires are always implied in myths, such as the lost relative who comes back from the ‘other world’ to give final instructions of revenge; or the warrior who being surrounded by enemies, becomes invisible and saves his own life and the community. It is the imagination that produces the desire to save the warrior and projects reality onto a mythical surrounding. But that imagination does not always remain constant in the life of a community. The community’s needs may change and, as a consequence, the content of the myth also has to evolve in order to be functional.

Golden Ages have mushroomed and their presence can be traced in almost any academic discipline, from cinema and animation to radio, comic-books, literature, classical antiquity, astronomy, and even economic performance. Any society that has lost a world will have an idea of an age of gold, or as Schiller remarked, ‘all peoples that have a history have a paradise, a state of innocence, a Golden Age’ (Levin 1970: xv). The term has been used to describe splendid times such as ancient Athens, Medici Florence, the period of 1572–1648 in the Netherlands or seventeenth century Imperial Spain. The content of each of these golden ages may be radically different from country to country but also through time. In any case, they remain as examples of virtue, splendour, and great courage and constitute a revolt against a concrete historical time. In fact, due to its potential to project an attitude and inspire political action, a golden past has become a necessary myth for nationalism.

But before considering the functional importance of the Golden Age for nation-building processes it is important to clarify what a myth is. The word ‘myth’ derives from the Greek mythos, meaning a ‘tale’ or ‘story’ and according to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) is ‘a traditional narrative, usually involving supernatural or imaginary persons and embodying popular ideas on natural or social phenomena’. According to anthropological research, myths are a source of knowledge and a legacy from the ancestors. A mixture of historical facts and legendary elaboration, myths have authoritative symbolic value, and they reveal meaningful aspects of social reality. The myth should be seen as a cultural institution that relates the individual to the ritual, and plays a leading part in moral conduct and social organisation. In other words, its function is to inspire and give meaning to both individual and collective existence. Its importance would be similar to that of the scriptures for Christians or the social contract for Liberals. In the words of Bronislaw Malinowski, the myth:

is a story which is told in order to establish a belief, to serve as a precedent in ceremony or ritual, or to rank as a pattern of moral or religious conduct. Mythology, therefore, or the sacred tradition of a society, is a body of narratives woven into their culture, dictating their belief, defining their ritual, acting as the chart of their social order and the pattern of their moral behaviour. Every myth has naturally a literary content, since it is always a narrative, but this narrative is not merely a piece of entertaining fiction or explanatory statement to the believer. It is a true account of sensational events which have shaped the constitution of the world, the essence of moral conduct, and determines the ritual contact between man and his maker, or other powers that be. (Malinowski 1963: 249–250)

Following the functionalist anthropology of Malinowski, one can argue that myths are key constitutive elements of collectivities. They shape social behaviour and dictate parameters within which individuals and national movements might operate. What will these parameters be for devotees of a Golden Age? Could it be that the remembrance of a forgotten Golden Age inevitably leads to a tormented nationalist mind and condemns it to sterile nostalgia? Could there be any other outcome for those utopians looking for heaven on earth? Indeed there is. Yearning for yesterday can become a trigger for vigorous political action to recover that lost age. Many nationalist movements link a myth of decline with one of regeneration (Levinger & Franklin 2001). In this respect, nationalism takes much from the Judeo-Christian tradition which ‘moves from paradise lost to paradise regained, from Eden through the wilderness of Canaan, the land flowing with milk and honey, and hence from retrospection to prophecy’ (Levin 1970: 5). This structure was similarly present in Hesiod’s story or Milton’s Paradise Lost—an idealised past, a narrative of decline, and a decadent present— which, since then, resonates in successive golden ages. The superior virtues of an idealised past have become part of almost every national movement because they identify the heroic essence of the nation and the characteristics that need to be emulated. Almost every nation has a time in history which is looked on with furtive admiration and, even, a certain degree of sentimental recollection. According to the quote from Emile M. Cioran which opened this book, myths and utopias are indispensable guiding lights. These ideas are needed in all societies to inspire and uplift their members in prosperous times but, more importantly, in difficult times. Myths help human beings transcend the limits of history and leave an imprint of progress during their brief time on earth by participating in the national endeavour. Or as Benedict Anderson has put it, the magic of nationalism is to provide a quasi-religious answer to the suffering and contingency of life by turning chance into destiny (Anderson 1991: 11–12).

Another point worth making is that the memory of the golden past cannot survive without repetition and mechanisms of social and cultural reproduction. Without them, the theme of the Fall of Man would be forgotten and would be lost in time. For its survival, the myth needs new generations to believe in it, and pass it onto the next one by ritually thinking, writing, and adapting it to new circumstances. For that to happen, the myth needs to encapsulate universal meaning which can be understood by peoples from all times. Members of a community need to identify with the allegory or parable. Only if the myth has metaphysical content will people see their reflection and that of their ancestors. That is the reason why the myth so often takes, imitates, and repeats an archetype, so people can observe what Mircea Eliade called ‘a situation in the cosmos’ (Eliade 1955: 3). The myth does not only survive, however, because members of the collective spontaneously recognise its symbolic and intrinsic value. The role of the elites also needs to be recognised in the choice of which myths may be reproduced, particularly if they can spur social change. Because the golden past does not have to be historically accurate to be accepted, it is unproblematic to argue that intelligentsias might use those myths to achieve their own goals. However, if the Golden Age is to be effective, parts of it need to be widely believed and perceived as ‘authentic’. As the leading fiure of ethno-symbolism has persuasively argued, the Golden Age has to be historically verifiable if it is to last:

Nationalist fabrications may succeed for a moment, but their inevitable exposure is likely to divert energy and induce cynicism and apathy for the national cause. To inspire wonder and emulation, the Golden Age must be well attested and historically verifiable. Pure ‘invention of tradition’ is ineffective. (Smith 1997: 59)

Smith rightly states that a pure construction is ineffective, but does not say how much fabrication is possible. He is right to point out that it cannot be entirely false, but it does not need to be historically accurate either. The level of invention allowed fluctuates and its acceptance does not only depend on the resonance it has with the people, but on the power of elites to impose such discourse. What is sure is that the point of equilibrium where popular and elite demands intersect will coincide with a period of perceived decline. As the next section explains, the first steps taken to develop the Basque Golden Age coincided with the decline of the Spanish empire.

1.2 THE BASQUE GOLDEN AGE

By the end of the seventeenth century the long period of prosperity characterised by Spain’s pre-eminence in both Europe and the Americas was over. At the height of its power, the Spanish Empire was one of the richest and most powerful actors of the sixteenth century with territories in the West Indies, Cuba, Florida, Mexico, Central America, much of South America, and the Philippines. The main hurdle for Spain had been to control all these widely scattered territories at a time when slow communications made long-distance government practically impossible. In a matter of decades, Spain declined from being the most feared military power in Europe to a loose conglomerate of territories that the monarchy could no longer defend. The empire had made colossal exertions in order to control its vast territories and an overstretched state was now taking its toll on the country’s resources and morale. Furthermore, it was precisely at the time when resources were most needed that Spain’s rulers needed to legitimately extract and organise resources efficiently. Some regions of the Hispanic Monarchy revolted while others, like the people of Biscay and Gipuzkoa, developed a pre-modern body of literature which emphasised their ethnicity and argued that they should be exempt from taxation.

According to John H. Elliott, the decline of Spain was caused by the exhaustion of a model and what one may call ‘imperial overstretch’.² This model had showed a few signs of fatigue by the end of the previous century. Foreign enterprises to fight ‘heresy’ had gone tremendously wrong and, in 1588, the supposedly invincible Spanish Armada had suffered defeat in the English Channel. Castile had severe economic and demographic problems which, together with epidemics, rising ta...

Table of contents

• Front Cover
• Half Title
• Routledge/Cañada Blanch Studies on Contemporary Spain
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Author Note
• Contents
• Tables, Figures, Illustrations, and Map
• Foreword
• Acknowledgements
• List of Political Terms and Organisations
• Map of the Basque Provinces
• Introduction
• 1 The Basque Golden Age
• 2 The Emergence of Basque Nationalism (1833–1903)
• 3 Between Autonomy and Independence (1903–1939)
• 4 Francoism and the Birth of ETA (1939–1975)
• 5 The Basque Movement of National Liberation (1975–1989)
• 6 The Polarisation of Identities (1989–1997)
• 7 Radical Nation-Building in Decline (1997–2006)
• Conclusion
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index