The Rant about “los Progres”
[…]It is Spain’s idiosyncrasies which make it such a fascinating place, both to study and visit. Much the same could be said of Britain, France, Germany and Italy. Each, thankfully, has its own identity. And what the Spanish, in their enthusiasm for ‘Europe’, perhaps overlook is that to be true to themselves they may need to be different from others. For me at least, the new Spain will have reached maturity, not on the day it ceases to be different from the rest of Europe, but on the day it acknowledges it is.
John Hooper, The New Spaniards
Churchill once said, “When I am abroad, I always make it a rule never to criticise or attack the government of my own country. I make up for lost time when I get home”. This might apply to a brief jaunt abroad, but an expat should be exempt from this rule, particularly if you, like me, happen to share two nationalities. Should the Danish government not give me a reason to jump on my soapbox I rest easy, knowing its Spanish equivalent soon will. Furthermore, my move to Berlin from London has also provided me with ample opportunities to view the to-ings and fro-ings of UK politics from an outsider’s viewpoint. I’d like to think of it as a detached meta-perspective, although my boyfriend would argue otherwise. Yet today’s tuppence berates people who criticise their own country, obviously not including myself, since I got on the soapbox first. Specifically it’s about Spaniards’ harsh views on their own country and their glaring inferiority complex towards the rest of Europe. You don’t need to be in the Iberian peninsula to come across it, in fact this mindset is well and alive in Berlin where apparently 60% of Spain’s twenty- and thirty-somethings live. The other 40% are to be found in London’s Camden Market, so in retrospect it was probably wise for you not travel all the way down to Spain. You wouldn’t have found any.
The target of today wrath are the so-called progres, which is short for progresista, i.e. “progressive”. Once upon a time being a progresista was a very progressive stance to take. Spain has a proud tradition of forward-thinking minds who, amongst other things, were responsible for drafting the first constitution in Europe in 1812*, hot on the heels of the American one (it was sadly never enacted, as the returning Ferdinand VII, known as “the wanted one”, turned out to be a completely autocratic bastard, a constitution being the last thing he wanted, swiftly arresting its authors). The country might have had a turbulent history, and has at times not been the most liberal place to live, but this has not deterred many Spaniards in the long run.
Spain also has a surprising number of radical laws, radical at least for a country that has historically been regarded as one of Catholicism’s strongholds. Here same-sex couples are allowed to marry, instead of settling for a civil partnership as in other seemingly enlightened countries such as Great Britain. And they have the right to adopt, unlike in Germany. But if you mention this to a progre, they will rebuke you by claiming that it might not be on paper, but northern European countries just have a more liberal mentality. Progres, it seems, have an almost unnatural ability to read public opinion on “liberal issues”, particularly in countries they have never set foot into, but gleamed knowledge of through the marihuana haze. Progres smoke a lot, perhaps believing that the smoke will not ward off only mosquitoes, but also cold facts and figures. Their natural habitat is the flea market, hence their high numbers in Berlin. To a progre a flea market is the zenith of civilisation, what Flemming was really looking for when he accidentally discovered penicillin. Here they can sit and smoke dope all day surrounded by Bob Marley records, tribal jewellery and other Spanish people. They might be dedicated smokers but they are not enthusiastic linguists. So blissful they look that you almost don’t have the heart to tell them that the Palestinian scarves they’re proudly sporting are most definitely Chinese in origin. Almost.
Asked for the reasons behind their move to Berlin, they will all give you the same answer “Oh, in Berlin nobody judges you, you can dress however you like”. Apparently their brave sartorial choices are frowned upon back in their motherland, not only in the poky little city they grew up in, you understand, but IN THE WHOLE COUNTRY. I’m sure people from, say, Barcelona will agree. Don’t blame the poor progre, they are only able to spout sweeping generalisations picked up from other progres, forming a sort of incestuous bermuda triangle of vapid antiestablishment ideology, crumbs and leftovers from the 60s.
But the insouciance characteristic of youth becomes hollow if carried onto your 30s and 40s. You become one of those burnout hippies that got high on the counter-revolution and is still searching for that elusive time in which everything was black and white, as bland and simple as a John Lennon ballad. Perhaps Spain herself should be blamed for spawning such a generation. Living under the tight grip of Franco’s dictatorship for 40 years whilst Northern Europe experimented with different socialist models, it is no surprise that many Spaniards still embrace outmoded forms of counterculture. Perhaps they’re making up for lost time and still feel the clandestine thrill of indulging in now innocent activities that carried a price tag during the Generalísimo’s time. It has now been more than 30 years since Spain was able to embrace democracy once again, 30 years in which it has frantically tried to catch up with its other European neighbours. Recessions will come and go and so will housing bubbles, although politicians’ inability to keep their fingers from the cookie jar will sadly stay. And yet Spain should pat herself on the shoulder. Spain is different, but so is every other country. Most importantly, Spain can pride itself on being pleasantly bland. This might come as a disappointment to those thrill seekers who, like Hemingway, flocked to Spain attracted by its fiery and indomitable spirit. On the other hand, Spain is unlikely to start another civli war, and most importantly, won’t have to put up with American authors that eschew wussy adjectives in favour of manly verbs.
And this is why, dear progres, I get so angry with you. I’m simply disappointed because I’m convinced you could do so much better. You know the the term has been emptied of all meaning when it is used as an insult, and with progre that happened years ago. When my parents married, Spain wasn’t part of the European Union, and the Danish immigration authorities grilled my mother, demanding to know if her motives were genuine. Although Franco was already dead, there was still currency circulating with his loathsome effigy. Nowadays it is Spaniards that get to be rude to immigrants (how fleeting is historic memory!) and get to spend their Euros in the many countless countries they can visit. And this is something that should be celebrated, apart from the growing xenophobia of course. That really sucks, although it is also, perversely, a sign that Spain is now a country wealthy enough that racist morons have the money and leisure to spend it infecting the internet with their imbecilic venom.
Anyway, I digress. I was talking about progress, right? Well done Spain! Now if only the current government could pass some much needed labour reforms…
* Note to history sticklers: The people responsible for drafting the 1812 Constitution were actually knows as liberales, it would be their political descendants who became known as progresistas. Liberales were arguably pretty progressive too though.
And yes, the pictures are from Teufelsberg. No connection, I just need some visual breaks.
