MADRID.- Every Thursday evening, in the middle of the Puerta del Sol,
a small crowd gathers around an equestrian statue of King Carlos III to
stage a modest protest. There are rarely more than 25 people, most of
them in their 70s. The first thing several of them do is unfurl a banner
that reads: “Against impunity, in solidarity with the victims of
Francoism.”
Then, a few others hoist up the tricolor flag of Spain’s Second
Republic. Its yellow, red and purple bands hearken back to an era of
democratic promise. That tumultuous period, which began in 1931 with the
election of a left-leaning coalition that sent King Alfonso XIII into
exile, had its share of political squabbles and reactionary violence.
But it also brought heady euphoria and a raft of egalitarian reforms. A
new constitution enshrined women’s suffrage and freedom of speech, while
stripping the nobility of its erstwhile privileges.
Those days had a palpable air of reformist zeal and ambition. Today, amid a painful recession and a crisis of political leadership, the promise of that bygone era has a renewed purchase.
The Spanish public is reeling. But unlike in the years of the Second Republic, much of the drama revolves around what seems to be happening outside
Spain. National politicians have been reduced to beleaguered
spectators. The Republican flag is a bedeviling, homegrown symbol
underlining the enervated state of the current political class.
Under the circumstances, its relevance and meaning are shifting.
Until recently, older Spaniards who remember the years of the dictator
Francisco Franco, just after the Second Republic, regarded the
Republican flag with a mix of pained nostalgia and a flash of activist
fervor. And Spaniards born after democracy was restored in the late
1970s tended to think of it more as a recondite artifact than a
galvanizing symbol. Now it’s making a comeback with them, too, thanks to
the growing democracy deficit in the European Union generally, and in Spain specifically.
At public demonstrations against austerity measures, an ever diverse
array of protestors, including young people, wave the old tricolor. As
the journalist Javier Valenzuela told me, “Young people in their 20s and
up are identifying the flag as a symbol of protest against the current
state of affairs.”
Bearers of the Republican flag at public demonstrations say it has a
range of meanings. Some cite historical memory of the atrocities of the
Civil War and its enduring legacy of unburied enmities. Others, drawing on the history of the Second Republic, mention the waning prestige of the Spanish monarchy.
Still more carry it to rallies as a call for economic justice at a time when the government is doing nothing about the widening gap between
the rich and the poor — a chief issue also during the early years of
the Republic. As one activist remarked: “The question shouldn’t be ‘Why
are we seeing so many more Republican flags now?’ It should be ‘Why
weren’t we seeing more of them in the years before?’”
The flag is, crucially, a catchall. In the current political morass it’s hard
for engaged citizens to know where exactly to take aim with a pointed
critique. So much seems to be going wrong. The Republican flag invites
and sustains activism while also keeping criticism flexible and
open-ended.
Last Thursday, at around 7 p.m., two 18-year-olds walked to the
center of the Puerta del Sol. One of them was carrying a backpack. She
paused for a moment, as if she were having second thoughts, but at her
friend’s prodding she unzipped her bag and pulled out a Republican flag.
She draped it over her shoulders and joined the group of elder
protestors.
“Why this flag? Why now?” I asked her. ”It’s because I don’t identify
with the current Spanish flag,” she said. Then, gesturing to the flag
of old hanging off her shoulders, she shrugged: “I feel closer to this
one.”
(*) Jonathan Blitzer is a journalist and translator based in Madrid
http://latitude.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/10/19/spains-new-old-flag/?smid=fb-share
