BARCELONA—Before leaving for Spain, I brushed up on my Spanish by reviewing the nuances of idiomatic expressions and practicing my accent, hoping for a shot at being mistaken for a local, or at least, a Spanish speaker. My preparation however, fell far short of my goal. To fool the locals here would require learning an entirely different language—Catalán.

At first there was no problem: The hospital staff with whom I worked always spoke Castellan—Iberian Spanish—and the patients would in turn respond in Castellan. Everyone accommodated and willingly put aside their Catalán when I was within earshot. While my American accent did not convince anyone that I was a local and my occasional lapse of grammar or vocabulary made my origin even more obvious, I could still understand and be understood. That is until I had Catalán to contend with.

After two weeks, I worked with a different doctor. The first patient entered and fifteen minutes of Catalán conversation ensued. Afterward, I politely asked the doctor if he would please speak Castellan since I have not learned any Catalán. “That is your own disability” he replied. Weeks later, in a meeting, everyone obligingly spoke Castellan until one doctor accidentally lapsed into Catalán. When asked to return to Castellan, he replied: “You’re not in Spain. You’re in Catalonia.”

I discovered the views of these particular doctors were not unique in Barcelona. Within my first week, the ubiquitous graffiti and even official state propaganda made the Catalán position clear as day. “Catalunya mereix mes” (Catalonia is worth more), “Els Cataláns no sorn espanyols” (The Cataláns are not Spanish), and “Catalunya is not Spain!” are common messages to see scribbled on walls, benches, or emblazoned on buses traveling throughout the city.

The contention between the two languages actually peaked just after my arrival. Within minutes after stepping off the plane large posters, some saying “Sí” and other saying “No” were difficult to ignore. I figured that the Spanish government was not offering a Spanish language crash course to foreigners, but if not that, then what could these signs refer to?

The answer came a day later in Spanish newspapers. The headlines all shared one word: “L’estatut.” After asking some people at work and a friend in a contemporary Spanish government class, I learned how the Si’s and No’s related to this statute. “L’estatut” determines Catalonia’s level of autonomy—who controls the taxes, the languages spoken and taught in school, immigration into the region, and its relationship with Spain, among other issues.

The “Sí” posters encouraged voters to vote yes to “L’estatut,” giving Catalonia, and thus Barcelona, its capital, more autonomy and control over how Spain’s policies affect the region. The “No” posters were the propaganda of a liberal extremist party, which seeks nothing short of secession. They believe Catalonia deserves more than “L’estatut” permits, and backing instead an all-or-nothing policy, they wanted to turn it down.

June 18th, the day of the referendum, saw an overwhelming “Sí” to the proposal. Just like the last vote on the statute, this one will most likely jettison Catalonia into a future even more divorced from the rest of Spain, culturally and otherwise. The newfound Catalonian autonomy eliminates classes taught in Castellan. All classes in public institutions, from elementary school through college, will be conducted in Catalán. Castellan, the national language will be treated as a foreign language and given one period a day, just like English. Catalonia, one of the richest provinces in Spain, will actually give less tax money to the rest of Spain. Additionally, Catalonia will gain more control over immigration into the region from outside Spain. Reforms upon reforms are leading the region down the path toward independence. And Catalonia’s inhabitants already have a sense of deeply rooted nationalism, despite not being an independent state.

One night here, I escaped Catalán in a local bar filled half with foreigners and half with locals. I sought to get away from the ubiquitous language, and actually work on my Spanish. Upon finding a non-Catalán at the bar I immediately began to air my woes: All I wanted was to speak Spanish for a day, to read a newspaper in Spanish, to actually embrace Spanish culture without confronting Catalonian pride.



He quickly replied: “The Cataláns are weak” and then lectured me on how a region truly achieves independence. He was an extremist reporter from the Basque Country, which he declared to be its own country, though Madrid would say otherwise. I sighed. I might have been able to escape Catalán, but Spain was a step ahead of me with its four distinct languages. It is simply impossible to tell who is a “Spaniard” and who is not, revealing their whole modus operandi for integration was wrong from the outset.



Steven A. McDonald ’07, a Crimson magazine editor, is a biology concentrator in Currier House. In Spain, he learned that both Catalán and Castellan mean little when ordering tapas.