The Consciousness of Trauma

“Hundreds Hurt as Spain Cracks Down Catalan Referendum.” “800 injured in Catalonia.” “Violence Breaks out in Spain.”

I scrolled through these headlines during the days following the historic Catalonian independence referendum, and I was in shock. I couldn’t imagine the scenes described by these titles in a country that I had visited countless times before, spending peaceful summers with grandparents and cousins. When my Spanish mother sent one of these articles to my family, she followed it with, “This is what happened under Franco. Feels like back in time.”

Her instant connection to a time when this violence wouldn’t have sounded so shocking struck me as noteworthy. As a child born two decades after the death of the Spanish dictator, I lacked the memory of previous generations. Instead, this current event felt like an isolated incident, something unthinkable in a country like Spain that I viewed, wrongly, as a long-standing democracy.

[pullquote]We must also come to terms with the collective trauma held by entire communities, and the social and political consequences that result.[/pullquote]

Our varied reactions highlighted the way in which we, as a society, often fail to apply a historical lens onto instances of violence. Too often, our instinct to quickly process and move on does not allow us to reflect on the deeper wounds left by violence – trauma. In recent years, trauma and post-traumatic stress disorder have received more national attention as mental health advocates have challenged us to destigmatize these serious conditions. But in addition to confronting individual experiences, I believe we must also come to terms with the collective trauma held by entire communities, as well as the social and political consequences that result.

[pullquote]Too often, our instinct to quickly process and move on, does not allow us to reflect on the deeper wounds left by violence – trauma.[/pullquote]

In this regard, Spain provides a perfect case study for the ways in which trauma has shaped the consciousness of its people. Following the short-lived democratic Second Spanish Republic, and a brutal civil war, General Francisco Franco led a 36-yearlong authoritarian, religiously conservative, and fascist dictatorship. His regime suppressed regional diversity, free speech, and political difference in the name of a Nationalist, unified Spain. The civil war and the years following it were characterized by the mass killings, imprisonment, and torture of Republicans (those supporting the government prior to the war), communists, free thinkers, and anyone in opposition.

[pullquote]Spain provides a perfect case study for the ways in which trauma has shaped the consciousness of its people.[/pullquote]

Many Spaniards carry stories of members of their village that disappeared one night, never to be heard of again, joining over 35,000 other unaccounted for individuals. Others have family lines started in foreign countries after a family member was forced into exile. And to this day, unmarked mass graves continue to be excavated, retelling a story of loss and memory.

Despite the brutality and length of this regime, Spain is often characterized more by its transition into democracy than its experience of autocracy. Following Franco’s death in 1975, his appointed successor, Prince Juan Carlos, rather than continuing authoritarian rule as expected, led a peaceful and exemplary transition into the constitutional monarchy we know as Spain today. Its success at a process that many countries around the world have failed to achieve makes it easy to forget that Spain has been a democracy for not much longer than it was a dictatorship, and that many of its citizens today still carry experiences from a time they would rather forget.

But this urge to move on from the past without coming to terms with it is a mistake. As a country, Spain has not done enough to reckon with, on a national level, the pain of that era. For many years, the experiences of the dictatorship were simply too recent, the wounds too fresh, to confront directly. But those experiences of collective trauma shape the country’s politics and sense of self whether they are discussed or not.

That is why the events in Catalonia shook not just Catalonians, but all Spaniards, in an especially painful way. In the crowds of injured stood elderly citizens who remembered the daily physical and psychological violence of living under oppressive dictatorship. It was a reminder that peace and stability, though taken for granted now, had a history shorter than many Spaniards’ life times.

Spain’s use of violence in Catalonia was inexcusable for the most basic moral reasons. But beyond that, the Spanish government did the worst thing it could do: remind Spaniards that that the trauma of their past shouldn’t be easily forgotten. That it could come back to haunt them at any moment, like flashbacks experienced through PTSD.

It will take a movement of recognition and reckoning to overcome these feelings. It will take a national dialogue, memorials giving space to those lost, and a leadership that recognizes the importance of coping with trauma in creating a real sentiment of strength. People say we need to learn from history so that it doesn’t repeat. Spain must deal and learn from its most recent history in order to strengthen its present and look forward to a better future.

Hanna Khalil ‘20 studies in the College of Arts & Sciences. She can be reached at hannakhalil@wustl.edu.