The revolution that took place across Spain during the opening stages of the Spanish Civil War has fascinated me for some time. Chomsky’s chapter in his well-known treatise ‘On Anarchism’ served a tantalising first glimpse.

The perception of the war today is generally painted as a war between the fascist rebels led by General Franco against the democratically elected Republican government. However, international interests coupled with the fragmentation of the Spanish political structure made for a highly complicated and nuanced conflict.

The scars of war can still be seen while walking the ornate streets of Barcelona in the present day. Contemplating sites where possibly the most significant and enigmatic moments in the history of revolutionary struggle unfolded, was both exhilarating and haunting.

The neighbourhood of El Raval was home for the week — among the skaters and alternative types that inhabit the tall, narrow maze of streets anchored by one of the most well-known skate spots in the world, Barcelona Museum of Contemporary Art (Museu d’Art Contemporani de Barcelona), known as MACBA. 

Despite its cool bars, vintage clothes shops, designer outlets, and other signs of gentrification, El Raval still clings to its traditional roots as the heartland of social radicalism in Barcelona. A stone’s throw away from MACBA, large red and black banners can be seen hanging from the Catalonian headquarters of the anarcho-syndicalist trade union, the CNT (Confederación Nacional del Trabajo or National Confederation of Labour), which played a primary role during the revolution of 1936-37.

Not far from El Raval lies Plaça de Catalunya, at the head of the iconic boulevard, La Rambla. On 19 July 1936, Plaça de Catalunya became the staging ground for the first major battle of the civil war. At the southeastern perimeter of the square, stands the building that would arguably come to symbolise the beginning and the tragic end of the worker’s revolution in Spain.

Facing inward onto the square is the Telefónica building. It controlled all communication within Spain, as well as with the rest of the world. The building was initially controlled by rebel soldiers taking part in the coup against the left-wing Republican government. They had been sent into the city with the objective of securing Barcelona’s crucial infrastructural buildings. However, over the course of the day, apart from certain pockets of the city, the rebels were gradually defeated by a somewhat unlikely alliance of armed police and organised workers — largely made up of anarchists and socialists from the worker’s unions. Following the fierce and bloody fighting in Plaça de Catalunya, the CNT took over control and collectivised the Telefónica building, along with the majority of the city’s other industries, as the power of the worker’s unions grew.

However, worker control was only to last for a matter of months; the Telefónica building taking centre stage in the events that would trigger the end of the revolution in Spain.

A short walk down La Rambla is Paliorama Theatre, where the author who wrote probably the most famous account of the war, George Orwell, was positioned on the roof as a sniper protecting the POUM headquarters on the opposite side of La Rambla during the infamous infighting between left-wing factions in May 1937. Orwell had joined and fought with the POUM fighting force; a Marxist anti-Stalinist political party that, along with the CNT, advocated for the civil war to be a revolutionary war, which was opposed to by the heavily Soviet-influenced Republican government.

On 3 May 1937, an attempt was made by Republican soldiers, led by a communist minister, to seize back state control over the Telefónica building from the CNT workers.  The following day Barcelona’s streets erupted into violent skirmishes across the city in response to the viewed repression of workers by the Republic government. The fighting and various complex political maneuverings that took place over the course of the following week would come to be known as the May Days. These events effectively spelled the end of the revolution, with the anarchist worker’s unions the CNT and FAI eventually ceding power to the state. Once fighting had died down, the POUM was forcefully repressed by the government and Stalinist organisations, leading to Orwell having to flee from the city in fear for his life. The events during the May Days, to this day, remain a source of friction amongst socialists. A complete and total understanding of the exact events amidst the chaos of war is still a matter that is strongly debated.

To the south of the city, rising up before the sea, is the large hill Montjuïc. Sitting on top of Montjuïc is an old fortress that saw a great deal of use by all sides during the civil war. The fortress was first taken by soldiers who supported the Republic from a garrison of rebel soldiers stationed there. Anti-aircraft guns were soon installed in an attempt to protect the city from aerial bombings.

Following the May Days fighting, many POUM members and anarchists were imprisoned in the fortress and only released moments before Barcelona was captured by General Franco’s rebel forces, at the closing stages of the civil war.

In the north of the city, in the district of Horta-Guinardó, is the steep hill of Turó de la Rovira. It is at this site that the Republic built its main defences against aerial attack from German and Italian bomber planes, supplied by Hitler and Mussolini.

During the course of the war, Barcelona was systematically attacked by air, killing close to 3,000 people and injuring many more thousands in what was the first large-scale bombardments of a city in history, and a precursor to the atrocities committed against civilians during WW2.

Today the bunkers serve as a museum and as a monument to the events of the war, as well as offering spectacular panoramic views over Barcelona towards the foothills of the Pyrenees.

The anti-air defences were eventually destroyed in late January 1939 by the Republican troops as they retreated from General Franco’s army entering the city, in what was then an inevitable defeat for the Republic.

However, prior to the fall of Barcelona, the defences of Turó de la Rovira served a crucial role in protecting the skies over the city, when, at the end of October 1938, the Republic deployed the majority of its meager force of fighter aircraft during the farewell parade to the thousands of international volunteers who fought on the side of the Republic. The International Brigades had been pulled from the front at the end of September 1938 in order to be sent back to their respective countries in an effort by the Republic government to appease France and Britain, in what was a final desperate act to gain support to prevent the Republic’s imminent, and almost certain, defeat.

On the way to Bunkers del Carmel, I came across anti-tourist graffiti covering the path to the summit of the hill. Sadly, these former defences, which had once protected the International Brigades, while the whole of Barcelona turned out to praise the efforts of the anti-fascist internationalist, were now an opportunity to showcase locals’ anger towards tourists. Ironically, in the same area of the city, not too far from Turó de la Rovira, stands the monument to those foreign volunteers who were willing to give their lives to protect Spain, and humanity, from the looming threat of fascism.

Similar messages expressing animosity towards tourism are prevalent all over the city, especially the sightseeing hotspots. Unfortunately, over the past several years, tourism in Barcelona has skyrocketed. So much so, that the burgeoning industry surrounding tourism is causing havoc for the lives of locals. I briefly witnessed Barcelona’s infamous overcrowding on New Year’s Eve, while swarms of people converged for the night’s celebrations. After a short bit of jostling through the densely packed hordes, I decided to celebrate elsewhere.

The favourite haunt to unwind at on the way home after a day of exploring was Barcelona’s first and oldest surviving cocktail bar, Boadas. It sits just off La Rambla on the fringes of El Raval, opening three years before the outset of the war in 1933. Beyond the bar’s low-key exterior the small, dimly-lit Art Deco room, where suited barmen stand ready to throw together a stiff cocktail amidst a background of dulcet jazz, creates a hazy, boozy atmosphere, transporting you back to Barcelona’s pre-war heyday. At that time, famous intellectuals and artists such as Miró and Picasso would frequent the bar. Though its most known patron — and likely its most indulgent — was another author who wrote on the Spanish Civil War: Ernest Hemingway.

While taking Hemingway’s advice and opting for the daiquiri, I dwelt on  Barcelona’s problem of excessive tourism. This city, which had once so vehemently celebrated the international solidarity shown by the International Brigades, was now being plundered by a tourism industry that is quickly bringing it to its knees. Thoughts of Marxist theories on the contradictions of capitalism, and some vague notion of a correlation between the situation and the decline of left-wing politics in the face of rising right-wing nationalism steadily eroded with the second round of drinks, as the subtle haze took hold.

End.

Glyn Owen

I would like to thank Nick Lloyd whose insights hugely informed my research into Barcelona during the Spanish Civil War. If you would like a more in-depth explanation of the topics and places discussed in this post then I would highly recommend his book: ‘Forgotten Places – Barcelona and the Spanish Civil War‘.