For the past week leading up to Catalunya’s self-declared referendum on independence — fervently contested as unconstitutional by the standing Spanish government in Madrid; equally or more fervently proposed as the only remaining action possible within an unjust and unresponsive regime — the people of the city have stood at 10 pm outside their apartments, on balconies or in windows or in the street, with large pots and pans and wooden mallets. For five minutes they struck those pans like bells, decentralized but united, is support of their right to decide.
“Kitchenware” by Tiniz (Salvatore Correra) @ DeviantArt.com
The region’s history is long, thick and complex. Clear arguments can be made that they have been occupied and oppressed; other clear arguments that they are and have been part of a constitutional democracy for many many years. I will not pretend to know enough of the issues to make a judgment as to which side is right, if there is a right side.
Today they went to the ballot boxes, and the national military police went on the offensive. Probably there was little political choice available to the Spanish President and the Assembly: to stay away was to invite a constitutional challenge with ever clearer result; to walk in was to galvanize an already strong popular front, with no way to back down after inserting thousands of armed riot police into a peaceful assembly. No military presence leaves without creating violence.
They did, of course, wounding many, hospitalizing some.
A few minutes ago, at 10pm, the results were in. Not the count from the ballot boxes, which probably will be (and likely can be, given the disruption) argued invalid by the Spanish government. Rather, the results from the people of Catalunya, whose roar of pan-banging, churchbell ringing and horns blaring was louder than ever, an overwhelming shout of unity, integrity and victory.
The Spanish Government has likely invalidated a vote — the most irrelevant result of all — but by their action swung many regional moderates from “undecided” to “certain”, and hurried the next, more severe challenge ahead by weeks or months over what may have been expected from a less prodded populace.
The Sunday-night Rambla just outside our door, usually silent before the workday, is full of pedestrians gathering to discuss the result. Fireworks are going off over the city. Doesn’t look like defeat to me.
Wonder what’s next?
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