Berkley Center

There are two common associations with the Basque region (Euskadi). First, that of gastronomic excellence since San Sebastián (Donostia) boasts the most Michelin stars per capita than any other city in the world. Then there is the less savory association with the hostility and terrorist activity of Euskadi Ta Askatasuna (ETA). The first came as a surprise to me when I decided to travel to Euskadi; the latter has been emphasized time and time again in every course about Spanish culture I have taken.

Even here in Spain, I had to sit and watch a video of an attack orchestrated by ETA in which a car exploded and landed on top of a building. In my lessons about Euskadi, the emphasis has always been on the antagonism, the hatred, the resentment, and even a hint of resignation that the situation will continue as a violent zero-sum game. I am not qualified to make a statement as to whether or not a separate state is viable or whether without the activities of ETA the Basque cause would be forgotten in the political sphere. What I can say is that this commonly painted image of Euskadi renders its inhabitants almost inhumane, almost unworthy of the respect and interest for what has proven to be, in my opinion, one of the most fervently revered cultures and homes by its own people.

From now on, when I hear “ETA,” I will stop thinking of explosions, bombings, kidnappings. Instead, I will think of eta, the Euskal word for “and.” It isn’t, in the grand scheme of things, a significant word. But it constitutes a part of a language that sets the Basque people apart from its Spanish neighbors. Yes, I said neighbors. The fact of the matter is that many people in Euskadi, particularly in the more rural areas, do not identify as Spaniards. First and foremost, they are Basque. Many learn Euskara for years before ever hearing a word of Castellano.

This was the case for my host in Donostia, who shared her home and culture with me in the most unselfish of ways. I am curious by nature and worry that I should tread more carefully with certain subjects such as Basque nationalism. Regardless, she answered my questions and made me realize that my probing about the politics was probably the least significant line of questioning I could initiate human being to human being. At the very least, what I have been taught is a sore subject may not be for the vast majority of vascos, and there is so much more to be said to build a relationship.

My first day in Donostia, I found myself cheering along at the Korrika, a country-wide race that promotes the learning of Euskara. It has no political ties. Its sole aim is to spread awareness of Basque literacy programs and celebrate the Basque identity. An 11 day trek, at each site people join in to walk a short distance. The end was located this year in Donostia, so upon my arrival the entire city was celebrating. This included bands traveling from bar to bar playing Basque music and what appeared to be a dance marathon in one of the plazas. Just like something out of a musical, everyone seemed to magically know a series of seemingly complicated Basque dances. Even children participated. At some point, my hosts eagerly grabbed me and with no small amount of pride attempted to help me learn a small portion of the steps.

The problem with the more widely associated image of Euskadi is that it does the reality of the region a disservice. Not every person is a separatist; not every person supports ETA. It is a true shame that while Basque culture is one of the most unique I have encountered, it rarely receives the recognition it merits for the lengths its people go to preserve it.

Moreover, while the main political concerns revolve around what is viewed as a dangerous sentiment of nationalism, there are other more basic issues that should be dealt with by the Spanish government. Euskadi is, after all, still a part of Spain. As my host described to me, there are serious issues with unemployment and domestic abuse. Where is the attention to those? Is attention being given to the sensational side of Basque politics at the expense of more pervasive and widespread social realities?

If asked what I thought of the Basque people before visiting the area, the only point of view I could have expressed was discontentment with ETA’s methods, although not necessarily their goal. That is all I have known, all I have been taught. The hospitality shown to me coupled with the insight I have gained into the Basque culture, however, has irrevocably changed my image of Euskadi. I can appreciate and even sympathize with their identity crisis, which isn’t so much a crisis as it is a disagreement. The Basque people know who they are and what they are about.

This identity, though, seems to hinder the political process as Basque nationalism and its opposition overshadows social injustices that are prevalent throughout Spain. It colors the relationship between Euskadi and the rest of Spain to the point that commonalities and similar difficulties are quickly forgotten. While I haven’t given self-determination much thought prior to this moment, I have to wonder: what keeps Spain from allowing Euskadi its independence? Why, in an already decentralized system, does Spain need to hold on to a clearly discontented region? What does it take to accept and take pride in a national identity?

These are questions that should be asked, no doubt, yet I find myself still torn as I recognize how far removed the political process is from daily life, where the questions that should be asked help build relationships and not further cement divisions. We must be wary of overgeneralizing about an entire region and perhaps approaching it as an inanimate object devoid of the people who compose it. At the end of the day, Euskadi is a place full of people who find joy or on occasion suffer just the same as any other person.