Spain’s political credibility, and the credibility of Europe as a whole, has crumbled. We have witnessed here an old, proud country casting off any façade of dignity, and descending into brute force to defend its suddenly mediaeval-looking form. The caution or neutrality displayed by many of us at the idea of an independent Catalonia should, at this point, be overshadowed by a shared fury and sense of betrayal at the Spanish state, and the Rajoy government, for bringing anti-democratic violence to the heart of Western Europe. The dramatic sequence of events which followed continued in this confrontational and childish trend, and now Catalans live in a strange and ominous political limbo, their president (or ex-president and “rebel”, according to Madrid) Carles Puigdemont seeking support and security in Brussels. And, in a Trump-esque act of bizarre delusion, they then denied the brutality of their actions, and pushed on with their antagonistic campaign. Instead, in a display of utter contempt for the democratic process, they sent in the troops. At the very least they could have just denied the validity of the results, secure in the knowledge that the law seemed to be on their side. They could have let the vote happen and, while insisting upon its unauthorised and illegitimate results, engaged in dialogue with the Catalan government. The Spanish authorities could have responded to the Catalan referendum with dignity and grace.
A Catalan police officer, his loyalties torn, weeping into the arms of his colleague. Catalan firefighters attempting to defend voters from Spanish security forces. Voters dragged by the hair and thrown screaming down a flight of stairs. Polling stations raided and ransacked, their staff bludgeoned out of the way. Elderly ladies with blood running down their cheeks. The Spanish state, in its desperation, authorized a sickening crack-down on a democratic vote, and I was certainly not alone in my horror at the scenes coming from the streets of Barcelona. There was a sense of history – and a sense of trouble on the horizon.Īnd then the violence began. Ultimately, I was uncertain where my sympathies lay and concluded that it was a matter for Catalonia and Spain to decide for themselves. These were my thoughts as Catalans went to the polls on the 1st October 2017. I’m certainly not against the creation of an independent, pro-European Republic of Catalonia, I concluded: but not like this. If Catalonia unilaterally declared independence after its plebiscite, I thought, it would find itself a pariah, an outcast in a contemporary Europe devoid of inspiring or radical leadership and therefore averse to the idea of a controversial new state joining its community.
I weighed the pros and cons of the situation, and found myself troubled at the prospect of what lays ahead. With this in mind, I met the news of the unauthorized Catalan independence referendum with some caution and an attempt at neutrality. Not only would it be intellectually troubling to instantly support the Catalan cause without thorough research, it would be arrogant and disrespectful of the unique history and culture underlying both the would-be states. To blindly follow another cause regardless of its ideology, history, and tactics is a dangerous form of thoughtless nationalism which does not sit well with the open, progressive, civic movement to which I and many other free-thinking pro-independence Scots subscribe. As such, I have worked hard to ensure that my own attachment to the Scottish independence movement does not overly inform my opinion of the Catalan movement. Sympathy for one independence movement does not, and should not, mean a natural affinity to another.
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