Examining the Role of Language in Ethnic Group Mobilization for Violent Contestation

Civil Tongues: Examining the Role of Language in Ethnic Group Mobilization for Violent Contestation

A Dissertation

Presented to

The Faculty of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences Brandeis University

Department of Politics

Eva R. Bellin, Advisor

In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Maria Smerkovich

May 2021

This dissertation, directed and approved by Maria Smerkovich’s Committee, has been accepted and approved by the Faculty of Brandeis University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of:

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

Eric Chasalow, Dean Graduate School of Arts and Sciences

Dissertation Committee:

Eva R. Bellin, Department of Politics Alejandro Trelles, Department of Politics Chandler R. Rosenberger, Department of Sociology

2021

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank my advisor, Eva Bellin, for poking at all the soft spots in my argument, offering reassurance and critique in equal measure, and for agreeing to see me through to the end.

I am grateful to my committee members, Alejandro Trelles and Chandler Rosenberger, for engaging with my work in a meaningful way and offering insights where my own understanding was lacking. I would also like to thank Margarita Corral for her guidance and patience as I fumbled my way through the statistical analysis, as well as Rosanne Colocouris for her help, humor, and lifeline of snacks.

Most of all, however, I thank my Director of Graduate Studies, Jill Greenlee, who picked up the can that her predecessors had kicked down the road and showed up for me. She cheered me on, advocated on my behalf, and nudged me in the direction of progress, always with kindness and no-nonsense honesty. Jill, I could not have done it without you.

I am beyond grateful to those who loved and supported me through this process. To my parents, who never saw the point of this PhD but are proud of me anyway. To Marcel, who kept a roof over my head, made me laugh every day, and assured me that I could, in fact, do it. Thank you for loving me through all the whining. To Valerie, for being my life raft and partner in every endeavor, however ill-advised. To my Arad, RCNUWC, and Wheaton people for always feeling like home. Finally, to my undergraduate mentors, Jeanne Wilson and Darlene Boroviak, whose support and encouragement led me to graduate school in the first place. Thank you for believing in me.

Pursuing this degree was soul-crushing in every way. Somehow, impossibly, mercifully it is done, and I am free.

ABSTRACT

Civil Tongues: Examining the Role of Language in Ethnic Group Mobilization for Violent Contestation

A dissertation presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences of Brandeis University Waltham, Massachusetts

By Maria Smerkovich

How does language as an ethnic trait affect group mobilization for contestation against the state? Are linguistic groups less likely to engage in violence, and if so, why? Existing studies have shown religious groups to be particularly conflict-prone, owing to characteristics that stem from their distinguishing trait. Their insights have implications for linguistic groups. Unlike religion, language is adaptable; it is additive rather than substitutive, and amenable to change, so that group boundaries are less rigid, and members are able to traverse them. Additionally, groups marked by language lack the structure and normative content associated with religion. These characteristics limit their capacity for collective action. Consequently, organizations that operate within linguistic groups are expected to struggle with mobilization, particularly when looking to challenge the state using violent means.

The dissertation adopts an integrative, mixed-method approach and proceeds in two parts.

Part I looks to ascertain whether linguistic groups partake in violent and non-violent contestation at lower levels than racial and religious groups, and accomplishes this through quantitative analysis using the new AMAR dataset. Part II relies on qualitative tools and case studies to explain why linguistic groups are less likely to be violent. This portion of the dissertation considers how groups that are historically distinguished by language vary in terms of the centrality of language in their group identity, and the impact of said variation on their mobilization for violence. More

v specifically, Part II analyzes the role of language in the frames of identity that organizations in linguistic groups use to appeal to fellow group members and rally them against the state.

According to the proposed theory of language adaptability, violent organizations in language-centric groups are unable to argue that the state poses an existential threat to them because their ethnic trait is adaptable. As a result, they have a difficult time convincing co-ethnics to support their violent campaigns. Linguistic groups for whom language is a peripheral attribute are more hospitable environments for such campaigns, seeing as violent organizations in this context can anchor their identity frames in something 'stickier' than language and better approximate the appeals of their racial and religious counterparts.

Part II of the dissertation consists of three case studies of linguistic groups that operate vis- a-vis the Spanish state: the Catalans, Basques, and Galicians. It examines violent organizations claiming to represent these groups during the Francoist dictatorship and through the democratic transition, and analyzes their experiences with mobilization for violence, paying close attention to their identity framing. The Catalan case serves as an example of a language-centric group that mobilized for non-violent contestation in pursuit of linguistic and cultural accommodation while rejecting violence. The Basque case demonstrates how a violent organization in a language- peripheral group can gain traction by reframing identity to exclude the language. The Galician case is an intermediate one, wherein the role of language in group identity is ambivalent; the gap between group proficiency and member attitudes towards the language resulted in little support for both violent and non-violent initiatives. These cases demonstrate the limited utility of the theory of language adaptability and identify avenues for further study.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1. Introduction ...... 1

1.1 Conceptual Framework ...... 2

1.2 The Argument ...... 7

1.3 Contributions and Implications ...... 9

1.4 Dissertation Overview ...... 12

Chapter 2. Insights from the Literature on Ethnicity and Conflict ...... 17

2.1 The Nature of Ethnicity ...... 18

2.2 Ethnic Cleavages and Conflict ...... 22

2.3 Comparing Conflict Potential by Ethnic Trait ...... 26

Chapter 3. Theorizing the Effects of Language on Contestation ...... 29

3.1 The Theory of Language Adaptability ...... 31

3.1.1 Characteristics of Agency ...... 33

3.1.2 Characteristics of Structure ...... 35

3.1.3 The Normative Content of Identity ...... 37

3.1.4 Implications for Contestation ...... 39

3.2 The Centrality of Language ...... 46

3.2.1 The Centrality of Language in Identity Frames ...... 49

3.2.2 The Mechanism ...... 51

3.3 Summary of Hypotheses ...... 59

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PART I. Establishing the Trend: A Quantitative Study of Group Contestation by Ethnic Trait ...60

Chapter 4. Testing the Effects of Ethnic Traits on Violent and Non-Violent Contestation ...... 60

4.1 Universe of Cases ...... 61

4.2 Variables, Controls, and Methods ...... 63

4.2.1 Dependent Variables ...... 63

4.2.2 Independent Variables ...... 66

4.2.3 Control Variables ...... 71

4.2.4 Methods...... 72

4.3 Analysis...... 73

4.3.1 Descriptive Statistics ...... 74

4.3.2 Regressions ...... 76

4.3.3 Marginal Effects ...... 84

4.3.4 Summary of Findings ...... 85

4.4 Conclusions and Limitations ...... 88

PART II. Explaining the Trend: Case Studies in the Mobilization of Linguistic Groups ...... 90

Chapter 5. The Central Role of Català and the Stunted Nature of Catalan Violence ...... 100

5.1 Catalonia, Catalanism, and Violence ...... 101

5.2 Catalan Language and Identity ...... 106

5.3 Non-Violent Resistance to Franco ...... 110

5.4 Front d’Alliberament Català (1969-1977) ...... 118

viii

5.5 Terra Lliure (1979-1995) ...... 125

5.6 Conclusion ...... 139

Chapter 6. The Marginal Role of Euskara and the Rise of a Violent Basque ETA ...... 142

6.1 From Euskal Herria to Euskadi ...... 143

6.2 Euskara and Basque Identity ...... 147

6.3 The Origins of ETA (1952-1960) ...... 151

6.4 From Cultural to Armed Organization (1961-1967) ...... 157

6.5 The Turn to Violence (1968-1980) ...... 166

6.6 Conclusion ...... 177

Chapter 7. The Ambivalent Centrality of Galego and Limited Galician Contestation ...... 179

7.1 Contributing Factors ...... 180

7.2 Galego, Galician Identity, and Galicianism ...... 184

7.3 Galician Linguistic Repertoires and Galicianism Under Franco ...... 191

7.4 Piñeirismo and the Absence of Contestation ...... 198

7.5 Unión do Pobo Galego (1963-1997) ...... 202

7.6 Conclusion ...... 217

Chapter 8. Conclusion ...... 219

Bibliography ...... 227

Appendix ...... 240

9.1 Rebellion ...... 240

9.2 Protest ...... 241

9.3 Language ...... 242

9.4 Belief ...... 243

9.5 Race ...... 244

9.6 Controls ...... 245

LIST OF TABLES

Table 4.1 AMAR Groups by Ethnic Trait ...... 75

Table 4.2 Comparison of Rebellion and Protest Means by Ethnic Trait ...... 76

Table 4.3 Ordinal Logistic Regression on Rebellion (Models 1-3) ...... 77

Table 4.4 Ordinal Logistic Regression on Protest (Models 4-5) ...... 78

Table 4.5 Ordinal Logistic Regression and Generalized Ordered Logit on Rebellion

(Model 1) ...... 80

Table 4.6 Ordinal Logistic Regression and Generalized Ordered Logit on Rebellion

(Model 2) ...... 81

Table 4.7 Ordinal Logistic Regression and Generalized Ordered Logit on Protest (Model 4) .....82

Table 4.8 Ordinal Logistic Regression and Generalized Ordered Logit on Protest (Model 5) .....83

Table 4.9 Average Marginal Effects on Rebellion ...... 84

Table 4.10 Average Marginal Effects on Protest ...... 85

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 3.1 Causal chain linking language-centric groups and identity frames to violent

contestation ...... 54

Figure 3.2 Causal chain linking language-centric groups and identity frames to the absence of

violent contestation ...... 56

Figure 3.3 Causal chain linking language-centric groups and identity frames to violent

contestation under conditions of state-sanctioned violent repression ...... 57

Figure 3.4 Causal chain linking language centrality to violent contestation ...... 58

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Chapter 1. Introduction

Are certain types of ethnic populations more prone to violent contestation than others?

Does their engagement in state-challenging activities vary based on the ethnic trait (race, religion, or language) that differentiates them from their surroundings? More specifically, do linguistic groups engage in violence against the state at lower rates than other types of ethnic groups? If so, how does language moderate the behavior of groups marked by it?

The last two questions drive the following dissertation, which focuses specifically on ethnic groups whose primary distinguishing trait is a language, or simply ‘linguistic groups’.1 The political science literature has traditionally treated ethnic conflict as “one phenomenon and not several”—an approach that obscures the differences between ethnic groups and their implications for group behavior.2 One parameter on which ethnic groups vary is the trait or traits that serve as the basis of their group identity. The comparative effects of different ethnic traits on conflict have not been sufficiently examined. Moreover, the causal mechanisms linking these variables have yet to be fleshed out. The dissertation aims to fill these gaps by examining the conflict behavior of linguistic groups and theorizing about the relationship between language as a distinguishing trait and group violence against the state.

Conflict involving linguistic groups is rarely regarded as a separate subject of inquiry.

When language conflict is discussed, it is usually in the context of a specific country or region.

The dissertation aims at greater generalizability by treating linguistic groups as a distinct ethnic group type, with its own characteristics and behavioral inclinations. The dissertation first looks to determine the likelihood that these groups will challenge the states in which they operate. To that

1The dissertation treats linguistic, religious, and racial groups as mutually exclusive types, unless otherwise specified. 2Donald L. Horowitz, Ethnic Groups in Conflict (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985), 53. 1 end, Part I compares linguistic groups to groups marked by race or religion and their engagement in violent and non-violent contestation.

Then, in order to uncover the mechanism linking language and violence, Part II of the dissertation considers the variation among groups distinguished by language. The three cases under examination in Part II are of linguistic groups in Spain, selected in an effort to control for as many variables as possible. That said, the findings of the dissertation are generalizable beyond the

Spanish context. The theory of language adaptability proposed in Chapter 3 is applicable to groups whose language has distinguished them from others in their vicinity for much of their history. As

Brown and Ganguly (2003) put it, “for these groups, language is not just a marker, it is the marker”.3 Additionally, the theory assumes that the groups in question are operating vis-a-vis states that do not share their language. Examples of linguistic groups that meet these criteria include the

Québécois in Canada, Welsh in the United Kingdom, Corsicans in France, Finnish-Swedes in

Finland, Kurds in Turkey, Tamils in India, etc.

The following sections identify and define key concepts that appear throughout the dissertation and summarize the principal argument. The last two sections offer an overview of the dissertation and outline its contributions to the literature on ethnic conflict.

1.1 Conceptual Framework

Though the literature on ethnicity is vast, the concept itself is rarely defined and often inconsistently employed.4 Along the same lines, the term ethnic groups occasionally stands for

3Michael E. Brown and Šumit Ganguly, eds., Fighting Words: Language Policy and Ethnic Relations in Asia (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2003), 3. 4References to this problem can be found in: Alberto Alesina et al., “Fractionalization,” Journal of Economic Growth 8, no. 2 (2003); James D. Fearon, “Ethnic and Cultural Diversity by Country,” Journal of Economic Growth 8, no. 2 (2003); Kanchan Chandra, “What is Ethnic Identity and Does It Matter?” Annual Review of Political Science 9 (2006); Kyle L. Marquardt and Yoshiko M. Herrera, “Ethnicity as a Variable: An Assessment of Measures and Data Sets of Ethnicity and Related Identities,” Social Science Quarterly 96, no. 3 (2015); Erika Forsberg, 2 demographic categories, but can also be used to refer to various types of organizations, from voting blocs to guerillas. The following section will clarify the meaning of ethnic in reference to groups, organizations, and distinguishing traits. The section will also draw a distinction between ethnic groups and ethnics organizations, which serve as the two units of analysis for this dissertation.

Finally, it will offer a conceptualization of contestation as the dependent variable.

As a starting point, studies frequently reference the definition of ethnic groupness proposed by Horowitz (1985), according to which these groups are differentiated by attributes or traits

“believed to be innate”.5 Chandra (2006) similarly argues that eligibility for membership in ethnic groups is based on attributes “associated with, or believed to be associated with, descent”.6 They are attributes one acquires but does not necessarily inherit from their family, through birth or upbringing. Traits classified as ethnic typically include race (or “color”), religion (or “belief”), and language.7

Some ethnic groups are distinguished by multiple traits. For example, the Aymara in

Bolivia differ from the Mestizo majority both phenotypically and linguistically. Likewise, Bosnian

Muslims (Bosniaks) are marked by religion and language. Other groups are distinguished by one trait and internally divided by another, like the Muslims in India who share a religious affiliation but speak many languages. The salience of ethnic traits and their centrality in group identity vary considerably across cases and over time, as well. As of 2011, most Scottish people do not speak

Scots, and fewer than 1% are proficient in Scottish Gaelic.8 Though their rates of proficiency have

Jóhanna Kristín Birnir, and Christian Davenport, “State of the Field of Ethnic Politics and Conflict,” Ethnopolitics 16, no. 1 (2017); and others. 5Horowitz, Ethnic Groups in Conflict, 52-53. 6Chandra, “What is Ethnic Identity and Does It Matter?” 7Less frequently, studies have included tribes and castes as additional categories. For the purpose of this dissertation, they are left out. See: Fearon, “Ethnic and Cultural Diversity by Country.” 8“Ethnicity, Identity, Language, and Religion,” Scotland’s Census, National Records of Scotland, accessed 29 April 2019. https://www.scotlandscensus.gov.uk/ethnicity-identity-language-and-religion 3 fallen considerably, the people of Scotland are still considered an ethnic group. This example illustrates that some groups survive long after their distinguishing traits have fallen by the wayside.

However, examining the reasons for their survival is a task that lies beyond the scope of this dissertation.

The presence of descent-based traits alone does not make an ethnic group. Fearon (2006) asserts that the traits must be consequential to social relations, so that “people notice and condition their actions on [these] distinctions in everyday life”.9 In addition to being socially significant, ethnicity is tied up in myths of commonality. The latter stipulation has many interpretations. For

Weber (1978), it is a “subjective belief in common descent”.10 Fearon and Laitin (2000) clarify that what members of ethnic groups share is a “conventionally recognized natural history as a group”.11 Others cite perceptions of cultural inheritance, attachment to territory, and linked fate.12

Some commonalities are particularly mythical; in certain cases, the purported ancestral ties and collective memories have little basis in reality.13 Whether factual or not, the idea that all co-ethnics are kin is essential in differentiating ethnicity from other factors of identity that have lasting social and political implications, such as gender, sexual orientation, etc.

So, the term ethnic groups refers to populations marked by socially significant descent- based traits, reinforced by myths of commonality. The use of group implies a cohesive unit.

However, this assumption is inaccurate. Ethnic groups do not operate as “internally homogeneous,

9James D. Fearon, “Ethnic Mobilization and Ethnic Violence,” in The Oxford Handbook of Political Economy, eds. Barry R. Weingast and Donald A. Wittman (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 853. 10Max Weber, Economy and Society: An Outline of Interpretive Sociology, eds. Guenther Roth and Claus Wittich (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978), 389. 11James D. Fearon and David D. Laitin, “Ordinary Language and External Validity: Specifying Concepts in the Study of Ethnicity” (paper presentation, Annual Meeting of the American Political Science Association, Washington, DC, 31 August - 4 September 2000). 12The concept of ‘linked fate’ is more commonly used in studies of race and ethnicity in American politics. 13Fearon, “Ethnic and Cultural Diversity by Country.” 4 externally bounded” entities that have clearly defined interests.14 Instead, they are made up of movements, organizations, and individuals that differ in their goals and ways of pursing them.

Through their interactions with each other, these various entities construct the identity of the group and delineate its boundaries, determining who is a member and who is not.

Ethnic organizations (also known as ethnic entrepreneurs) play a key role in this interactive process. They are coordinated bodies of like-minded members that emerge from within the group and claim to operate on its behalf. Types of ethnic organizations include political parties, cultural associations, grassroots movements, guerillas and rebel armies, among others. As self-appointed representatives, ethnic organizations champion what they perceive to be the interests of the ethnic group or a subset of it, in addition to their own.15 They construct frames of group identity that draw on the ethnic traits and myths of commonality that distinguish their group, and use them to appeal to fellow co-ethnics for support. These identity frames are constructed in view of organizational goals, which range from inclusion and accommodation to secession and independence.

Ethnic organizations pursue their goals by engaging in contestation. The term refers to actions that challenge the state that has authority over the group. It is similar to “contentious politics”, which describes the coordination of efforts to make claims that bear on the interests of others.16 However, contestation is more specific; it is limited to cases wherein the state is the target of claims and not the initiator or a third party. Contestation includes behavior that aims to extract concessions from the state, as well as that which is geared towards rejecting, replacing, or dismantling the state apparatus altogether. Contestation can be violent or non-violent, and occurs

14Rogers Brubaker, “Ethnicity Without Groups,” Archives Européennes de Sociologie 43, no. 2 (2002). 15Kanchan Chandra, “What is an Ethnic Party?” Party Politics 17, no. 2 (2011); Fearon and Laitin, “Ordinary Language and External Validity: Specifying Concepts in the Study of Ethnicity.”; Brubaker, “Ethnicity Without Groups.” 16Charles Tilly and Sidney Tarrow, Contentious Politics, 2nd ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 7-10. 5 through institutional and extra-institutional channels.17 Examples of contestation run the gamut from civil campaigns, court action, demonstrations and protests, to terrorist activity, rebellion, and civil wars.

Having defined the key terms, it is necessary to clarify their roles in the dissertation. The unit of analysis for Part I is the ethnic group. This portion of the dissertation compares ethnic groups that vary on the independent variable that is their distinguishing ethnic trait (language, religion, or race) and their reported levels of violent and non-violent contestation, which serve as the two dependent variables. The goal of Part I is to establish whether linguistic groups engage in conflict against the state at lower rates than other types of ethnic groups. That said, since the principal actors involved in contestation are not ethnic groups but those who purport to represent them, Part II of the dissertation observes the behavior of ethnic organizations.18 Specifically, it examines the identity framing efforts of organizations that emerge from and operate within linguistic groups, as well as co-ethnic responses to them, in order to show the effects of language as a distinguishing trait on mobilization for violence.

Throughout the dissertation, ethnic groups are categorized according to their primary distinguishing trait, irrespective of how salient or central to their identity the trait is at present.

Additionally, the dissertation treats the different ethnic group types (linguistic, religious, and racial) as mutually exclusive categories, unless otherwise specified. For example, groups are classified as religious when faith has traditionally served to differentiate their members from non- members, even if whether their general level of piety has fluctuated over time. This is not to say that the dissertation ignores variation among groups of the same ethnic type. Part II assesses the

17Doug McAdam and Sidney Tarrow, “Nonviolence as Contentious Interaction,” PS: Political Science and Politics 33, no. 2 (2000). 18Brubaker, “Ethnicity Without Groups.” 6 centrality of language in group identity for all three linguistic groups that serve as the case studies.

Contestation remains the dependent variable for this portion of the dissertation.

1.2 The Argument

A growing number of studies that single out religion as a source of intense and protracted conflict serve as the springboard for the dissertation. According to this literature, religion is exclusive, hierarchical, involves competing world views and irreconcilable claims over holy sites—all of which contribute to group cohesion and diminish the likelihood of peaceful compromise. These characteristics enable religious groups to mobilize effectively, including in conflict scenarios. Linguistic groups do not share the same characteristics, which suggests that they have a lesser capacity for mobilization. The dissertation expands on this logic by proposing a theory of language adaptability.

Unlike other types of ethnic groups, linguistic groups have to contend with the adaptable nature of their shared trait. Members of these groups can alter their linguistic repertoires, which affords them a high level of agency. Since language is non-exclusive, any changes that they make are additive—at least in the short run. Not only are linguistic group members able to traverse group boundaries by learning another language, but they also face considerable incentives to do so, and few constraints in the form of institutions or in-group policing. In fact, groups that are distinguished by language are rather unstructured, and their identities are normatively thin, meaning that they do not contain a shared moral code that would deter members from defecting from the group or pit them against non-members. These characteristics impede the ability of linguistic groups to act collectively.

The theory of language adaptability thus predicts that linguistic groups will have a difficult time mobilizing for contestation against the state. If the theory holds water, linguistic groups should engage in violent contestation at lower rates than other types of ethnic groups. After all, violence is risky, controversial, and largely ineffective, and linguistic group members have other options but to resort to it, such as adapting their linguistic repertoires by learning another language, sending their children to school in a different language than their own, etc. Linguistic groups are also likely to struggle with mobilization for non-violence. In order to succeed, non-violent contestation typically requires mass participation. Here, too, linguistic group members are able to choose between engagement in potentially costly activity and defection. So, in light of the adaptability of language, linguistic groups are expected to lag behind groups distinguished by other ethnic traits in terms of their mobilization for violent and non-violent contestation.

The mechanism by which language undermines contestation has to do with the ability of ethnic organizations to cultivate perceptions of existential threat. The latter serves as a powerful tool of mobilization. If group members are made to believe that they are in mortal danger because the state is targeting them via their ethnic trait, they will be more likely to support challenges against it—especially if the trait in question is immutable. However, organizations that operate in linguistic groups cannot claim that they are faced with such threats, because the trait that distinguishes them is adaptable. If linguistic group members are subject to repression on the basis of their language, they can alter their linguistic repertoires to avoid it. In other words, organizations that try to mobilize linguistic groups are unable to approximate the appeals of their counterparts in racial and religious groups. Owing to their less adaptable traits, organizations within the latter two ethnic group types are better positioned to rally their fellow co-ethnics by claiming that the state poses a threat to their lives.

Still, some linguistic groups offer more leeway than others. The contents of organizational appeals and the likelihood that they will resonate with the target audience both depend on the centrality of language in group identity. Language-centric groups are characterized by high levels of proficiency and favorable attitudes towards the language among their members. These groups are likely to see organizations adopt language-centric identity frames and steer clear of violence.

Instead, they will pursue accommodation for speakers of the language. On the other end of the language centrality continuum, language-peripheral groups are those in which low proficiency and mixed or unfavorable attitudes reflect the marginal role that the distinguishing trait occupies in their identity. Organizations that operate within language-peripheral groups can try to anchor their frames in traits that are ‘stickier’ or less adaptable than language, in order to convince their fellow co-ethnics that the state poses an existential threat to them, for the purpose of mobilizing them in support of violent contestation.

In summation, the dissertation argues that linguistic groups are less likely to engage in contestation, particularly its more violent forms, owing to the adaptability of language which limits their capacity for mobilization compared to other types of ethnic groups. The centrality of language occupies in the identity of linguistic groups affects the kinds of appeals that their representative organizations can make to group members, as well as the likelihood that they will mount successful violent campaigns against the state.

1.3 Contributions and Implications

This section details the contributions of the dissertation to the study of ethnic conflict. First, the dissertation highlights the need to disaggregate ethnicity in order to arrive at a more nuanced understanding of it and the ways in which it fuels conflict. Second, the dissertation explores the

9 subject of language conflict, which has not received enough attention from political scientists.

Finally, the dissertation relies on new data to improve on existing statistical analyses of different types of ethnic groups and their comparative engagement in contestation. The section concludes with a discussion of the implications of language adaptability for future research and policy.

As previously mentioned, it is standard practice in the literature to treat ethnic conflict as a unified phenomenon. McCauley (2017) refers to this as the “black box approach”, wherein ethnic groups “are assumed to have similar motivations under any identity context”.19 However, not all conflict involving ethnic groups is necessarily about their ethnic differences, nor does every type of ethnic group operate in the same way. The first step towards unpacking the “black box” of ethnic conflict is acknowledging that the contents of ethnicity matter. Not only do these contents vary, but their variation has an impact on group behavior. The literature has already accomplished this with regards to religious groups, treating conflict between them as a distinct subject. The same can and should be explored for other ethnic traits.

The dissertation contributes to the disaggregation of ethnicity by focusing on language. It sheds light on the fact that linguistic groups lack some of the characteristics that studies typically reference when arguing that ethnic groups are predisposed to conflict. For example, it is often assumed that ethnic groups are better at overcoming collective action problems than more heterogenous groups.20 The dissertation challenges this assumption, and instead shows that language as a distinguishing trait affects group structure, member agency, and the contents of identity in ways that impede mobilization, rather than facilitating it. In addition to thwarting

19John F. McCauley, “Disaggregating Identities to Study Ethnic Conflict,” Ethnopolitics 16, no. 1 (2017). 20James Habyarimana et al., Coethnicity: Diversity and the Dilemmas of Collective Action (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2009), 1-13. 10 expectations about group behavior, stripping ethnicity down to its component parts helps shed light on the mechanisms that connect it to conflict.

The dissertation also draws attention to the subject of language conflict. Though language is “an important issue in many ethnic settings” and “one of the most common and most powerful ethnic markers”, it is frequently overlooked as a factor in conflict.21 The dissertation aims to remedy this by placing language front and center. It does not simply note the presence or absence of a linguistic difference, but rather examines the role of language in every step of the mobilization process. To accomplish this, Part II of the dissertation delves into case studies of linguistic groups and evaluates them in terms of how proficient their members are in the language, their attitudes towards the language, the position language occupies in identity frames and appeals by ethnic organizations, and how these factors of language centrality change over time. Similarly, the statistical analysis in Part I employs measures that capture the variation in the degree of linguistic difference between groups and their states and try to take into account some common linguistic practices (bilingualism, assimilation, etc.). By emphasizing language in its theory and methods, the dissertation aims to construct a framework through which all linguistic groups can be assessed, in order to expand the sparse literature on language conflict.

The aforementioned statistical analysis represents another contribution to the literature on ethnic conflict. The dissertation evaluates existing studies that have attempted to determine whether linguistic groups are more or less conflict-prone than other types of ethnic groups, but were unable to do so conclusively. In light of this evaluation, the dissertation proceeds with an original statistical analysis utilizing a newly available dataset that is more comprehensive than its predecessors, and less susceptible to selection bias. Conducting another analysis with better data

21Brown and Ganguly, Fighting Words: Language Policy and Ethnic Relations in Asia, 1-3. 11 and more precise measurements advances the discussion on the topic and brings it closer to a resolution, whilst highlighting the limitations of using quantitative methods to study ethnic groups and their identities.

The adaptability of language and its consequences for contestation have real-world implications. At first glance, it would seem that the state has no incentive to include or accommodate linguistic groups if indeed they are less inclined to challenge it using violent means.

Moreover, their diminished capacity for collective action suggests that there is little reason for the state to avoid repressing minority languages, which would lead some of them to die out. However, the demise of a language does not necessarily signal the end of the group. In the absence of measures to facilitate intergenerational transmission and ensure language survival, language- centric groups will, after a while, become language-peripheral. Once language is marginalized, ethnic organizations operating within these groups may be able to focus on ‘stickier’ traits and use them to cultivate perceptions of existential threat among fellow co-ethnics, in order to mobilize them for violence. In other words, linguistic groups are unlikely challenge the state in the short run, particularly if language is a central component of their identity, but this does not mean that the state is safe in the long run. Repressing linguistic groups may inadvertently improve their capacity for contestation over time.

1.4 Dissertation Overview

Having introduced the research questions and the intended contributions, the dissertation proceeds as follows. Chapter 2 gives a brief overview of the relevant literature, expounding on the nature of ethnicity, offering insights from studies of religious groups, and reviewing prior assessments of the comparative conflict potential of linguistic groups. With this literature in mind,

Chapter 3 develops the theory of language adaptability in greater detail, and derives from it three hypotheses about the relationship between linguistic groups and contestation.

Part I of the dissertation sets out to test the validity of the first two hypotheses using quantitative methods. According to H1 and H2, groups marked by language are expected to challenge the state at lower rates compared to other types of ethnic groups, using both violent and non-violent means. Chapter 4 presents the results of a statistical analysis of 1,202 ethnic groups observed over a 66-year period (1940-2006). It categorizes the groups according to their distinguishing ethnic trait (language, religion, and race) and compares their engagement in violent and non-violent contestation using the measures of rebellion and protest, respectively. It also assesses the likelihood that the groups will challenge the state based on the degree to which they differ from the plurality in their country on the aforementioned ethnic traits.

The findings of the statistical analysis in Part I of the dissertation are mixed. They include some evidence in support of both H1 and H2, but are not consistent across the comparisons of means and various regressions. Additionally, the effect of a linguistic difference between the group and the plurality on violent contestation fluctuates, appearing positive for some levels of violence and negative for others, which suggests that the relationship between the two variables is more complex than hypothesized. In order to clarify how language as a distinguishing trait affects contestation and uncover the causal mechanisms at work, the dissertation turns to qualitative methods in Part II.

Part II is concerned with the third and final hypothesis, which posits that the centrality of language in the identity of linguistic groups is inversely related to violent contestation. This part of the dissertation consists of Chapters 5 through 7. Every chapter centers on a linguistic group that operated vis-a-vis the Spanish state during the Francoist period (1936 to 1975) and the

13 democratic transition (1975 to the early 1980s). Historically, all three groups were differentiated from the Spanish plurality by their language. That said, the centrality of language in their respective identities has changed over time. The chapters survey the history of each group, its relationship to the language, and the evolution of its ethnic organizations from inception up until the Spanish Civil War (1936). Then, the chapters zero in on violent organizations that formed starting in the late 1950s as they attempted to mobilize their respective groups in support of their campaigns against Madrid. Specifically, the chapters analyze the identity frames that the organizations employed to appeal to their fellow co-ethnics, and the role of language in these frames.

Chapter 5 centers around the Catalans. The case demonstrates how high rates of language proficiency combined with favorable attitudes towards the language render the group language- centric, and encourage the development of popular, non-violent organizations that advocate in favor of group members as speakers of the language. The case also shows that a language-centric group is resistant to violent initiatives; in the late Francoist period, organizations like FAC and its successor Terra Lliure tried to mobilize co-ethnics in support of their radical leftist and independist vision for Catalonia but were unsuccessful, attracting only a few supporters from Marxist circles.

The Catalan public denounced their use of violence on several occasions, whilst participating in non-violent protests and showing their support for cultural initiatives that centered on their native

Català. Chapter 5 exemplifies the dynamics predicted by the theory of language adaptability and confirms that effective mobilization of a linguistic group is possible under certain conditions— namely, within a language-centric context and in support of language recognition and accommodation.

The next two cases are less straightforward. Chapter 6 examines the Basques, a linguistic group that is language-peripheral. The chapter traces the evolution of the group and shows how

Euskara (the Basque language) became marginalized owing to the fact that early Basque organizations focused on race as the basis of Basque identity. The predecessor organization to

ETA attempted to change course, centering their identity frame on language instead. However, by that point, proficiency in Euskara was already so low among group members that a language- centric frame no longer resonated with them. ETA evolved from a cultural organization to a violent one, dropping their emphasis on language in the process. Operating within a language-peripheral group, they rose to prominence by staging attacks against the Spanish state, which were met with retaliatory actions that affected the larger population of the Basque Country. ETA drew attention to this widespread repression and signaled to the Basque public that the Spanish state posed a threat to their survival. They were thus able to attract the support of their target audience.

On the one hand, Chapter 6 shows how a violent organization like ETA can effectively mobilize a language-peripheral linguistic group. On the other hand, part of their success is attributed to the reframing of Basque identity as a voluntary association. This runs counter to the theory presented in Chapter 3, which stated that violent organizations in language-peripheral groups would need to anchor their frames of identity in less adaptable traits in order to gain traction. Establishing voluntarism and action as the main criteria for group membership challenges the logic on which the theory of language adaptability is based. The Basque case thus raises further questions about what it means for a group to be ethnic in the absence of ethnic traits, and the implications for group mobilization.

Chapter 7 stretches the boundaries of the proposed theoretical framework further with the

Galician case. The position of language in Galician identity is neither central nor peripheral but

15 ambivalent, seeing as the overwhelming majority of group members spoke it, but attitudes towards the language were mixed. The chapter examines the decline in status of the Galician language

(Galego), and the subsequent lackluster evolution of Galicianism. Ethnic organizations that emerged in Galicia, both violent and non-violent, centered their frames of identity and efforts on the language but still struggled to attract support. The Galician case suggests that linguistic groups characterized by ambivalent language centrality are the least likely to mobilize against the state.

This implies that the relationship between language centrality and violent contestation is far from linear. Additionally, Chapter 7 reflects on language centrality as a variable and the relative weight of its indicators, language proficiency and attitudes.

Finally, Chapter 8 concludes the dissertation with a discussion of the evidence presented in Parts I and II, whether or not it supports the theory of language adaptability, the general utility of the theory, and the next steps for research on the subject of language and violence.

Chapter 2. Insights from the Literature on Ethnicity and Conflict

Prior to theorizing about the capacity of linguistic groups to mount campaigns against the state, it is necessary to survey the existing scholarship on the subject. Studies that deal directly with language and its role in conflict are few and far between; nevertheless, there are a number of other sources to draw from. The broader literature on ethnic conflict offers relevant insights, whilst demonstrating the need for disaggregating ethnicity in order to examine the variation among different types of ethnic groups. Additionally, lessons gleaned from observing religious groups in conflict can be extrapolated to groups marked by other traits such as language. Finally, two studies by Laitin (2000) and Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt (2017) that compare groups by ethnic trait and their engagement in contestation have yielded contradictory findings and identified gaps to be filled by the dissertation and future research on the subject.22 Together, these sources inform expectations of linguistic groups and their mobilization against the state.

In the political science discipline, language conflict has received limited attention. Cardinal and Sonntag (2015) attribute this gap in the literature to modernization theory, and the once- pervasive idea that the development of industrialized, capitalist, and democratic nation-states encourages monoculturalism—and by extension, monolingualism—leading minority languages to die out.23 One example of this is a study by Inglehart and Woodward (1967) which contends that,

“at a high level of development, [linguistic cleavages] are no longer necessarily divisive”.24

Conversely, Gellner (1983) argues that language conflict is more likely in the modern era, wherein

22David D. Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back,” Archives Européennes de Sociologie 41, no. 1 (2000); Nils-Christian Bormann, Lars-Erik Cederman, and Manuel Vogt, “Language, Religion, and Ethnic Civil War,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 61, no. 4 (2017). 23Linda Cardinal and Selma K. Sonntag, State Traditions and Language Regimes (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2015), 10. 24Ronald F. Inglehart and Margaret Woodward, “Language Conflicts and Political Community,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 10, no. 1 (1967). 17 social and economic mobility and success are dependent on literacy.25 Under such conditions, instituting the use of a single language, while necessary, is also contentious.26 In practice, Gellner appears to be right—linguistic diversity is as common as ever, and conflict on the basis of language persists even in developed states like Canada, Belgium, and Spain.

In the ethnic conflict literature, language is usually listed alongside race, religion, and culture as a marker of identity. Till very recently, the markers themselves were of little importance.

The bulk of the literature was concerned with the dynamics generated by ethnic boundaries, rather than the contents of ethnicity.27 This approach, first advanced by Barth (1969), helped transform the study of ethnic groups from a collection of disparate case studies to a consolidated, mutually intelligible framework. However, it precluded the close examination of different types of ethnic traits and their implications for group structure and behavior, including in conflict scenarios.28 The following sections highlight insights from this general literature and consider their relevance for linguistic groups specifically.

2.1 The Nature of Ethnicity

The first point of discussion in the literature on ethnic conflict concerns the nature of ethnicity—is it inherited or constructed? According to the primordialist (or ‘essentialist’) view pioneered by Geertz (1973), an individual is born into their ethnic identity, and the latter represents an attachment stronger than any civic tie. Geertz argued that “congruities of blood, speech, and custom” are innate and immutable.29 Proponents of primordialism took these qualities to mean that

25Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1983), 64-73. 26Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back.” 27Fredrik Barth, Ethnic Groups and Boundaries: The Social Organization of Cultural Difference (Long Grove: Waveland Press, 1969), 9-37. 28Rogers Brubaker, “Language, Religion, and the Politics of Difference,” Nations and Nationalism 19, no. 1 (2013). 29Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures (New York: Basic Books, 1973), 255-310. 18 conflict between groups was the result of “ancient hatreds”.30 The original formulation of this approach has largely been discredited, since it cannot account for variation in conflict.31 Still, the core idea that primordial ties serve as a breeding ground for enduring animosities appears in the literature in various forms. For example, Kaufman (2001) points to the power of ethnic symbols, while Petersen (2002) emphasizes the strong emotional responses that ethnic identities evoke to explain the incidence of conflict.32

An alternative approach to understanding the nature of ethnicity is constructivism, which is often conflated with instrumentalism. The two are compatible, but not interchangeable.33

Anderson (1983), a constructivist, sees identities as the constructed products of the modern era and its processes—industrialism, print capitalism, mass literacy, and so forth.34 Using attributes associated with (or believed to be associated with) descent, ethnic entrepreneurs imagine and reimagine ethnic identities for various purposes, ranging from the promotion of societal cohesion to mobilization in pursuit of their political ambitions.35 Instrumentalists take this a step further, arguing that ethnic identities matter only to the extent that they serve material interests.36 For instance, Bates (1982) likens ethnic groups to coalitions that are formed to secure benefits for their members.37

30Robert D. Kaplan, Balkan Ghosts: A Journey Through History (New York: Random House, 1993), xxi. 31Ashutosh Varshney, “Ethnicity and Ethnic Conflict,” in The Oxford Handbook of Comparative Politics, eds. Charles Boix and Susan C. Stokes (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), 280-282. 32Stuart J. Kaufman, Modern Hatreds: The Symbolic Politics of Ethnic War (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2001), 10-13; Roger D. Petersen, Understanding Ethnic Violence: Fear, Hatred, and Resentment in Twentieth-Century Eastern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 17-84. 33Varshney (2007) argues that the two approaches differ in their “assumptions, explanatory ambition, and methodological impulse”. At the same time, he suggests that “constructivism is basically about the long-run stickiness, instrumentalism about the short-run fluidity” of ethnic identities. See: Varshney, “Ethnicity and Ethnic Conflict,” 288. 34Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities (London: Verso, 1983), 39-46. 35Chandra, “What is Ethnic Identity and Does It Matter?” 36Varshney, “Ethnicity and Ethnic Conflict,” 282-285. 37Robert Bates, "Modernization, Ethnic Competition, and the Rationality of Politics in Contemporary Africa,” in State Versus Ethnic Claims: African Policy Dilemmas, eds. Donald Rothchild and Victor A. Olorunsola (Boulder: Westview Press, 1982), 152. 19

Both the constructivist and instrumentalist approaches have been criticized for struggling to offer compelling explanations for conflict. If ethnic identities are manufactured by rational actors looking to gain materially, why are members willing to engage in costly and potentially life- threatening behavior on behalf of their group? Fearon and Laitin (1996) attempt to resolve this by pointing out that interethnic violence is the exception and not the norm. They explain that ethnic identities promote peace by acting as communication and information devices, allowing for in- group policing and reliable signaling of restraint.38 Collier and Hoeffler (2004) offer evidence in support of the instrumentalist approach. Framing the debate surrounding ethnic conflict in terms of greed versus grievance, they find that the desire by leaders and followers to amass economic gains is a better predictor of rebellion than the sense of deprivation and mistreatment experienced by the group over time.39 The authors have since tempered their position, stating that greed and grievance may be “inextricably fused motives for civil war”.40

In view of these arguments, the dissertation adopts a soft constructivist-instrumentalist approach to ethnicity. For one, language does not lend itself well to a primordialist argument.

Though mother tongues are passed on from one generation to the next, language is not inherited in the same way that race is, nor is it an identity one may be born into, as is the case with certain religions. Instead, language is learned. Historically, language has played a crucial role in the construction of national identities and attachments to the state, per Anderson (1983) and Gellner

(1983). Moreover, it can clearly be linked to the pursuit of material benefits; language is often

38James D. Fearon and David D. Laitin, “Explaining Interethnic Cooperation,” American Political Science Review 90, no. 4 (1996). 39Paul Collier and Anke Hoeffler, “Greed and Grievance in Civil War,” Oxford Economic Papers 56 (2004). 40Paul Collier, Anke Hoeffler, and Nicholas Sambanis, “The Collier-Hoeffler Model of Civil War Onset and the Case Study Project Research Design,” in Understanding Civil War: Evidence and Analysis, eds. Paul Collier and Nicholas Sambanis (Washington: World Bank, 2005), 2. 20 acquired with an eye towards economic and social mobility via schooling and employment opportunities.

That said, a strictly instrumentalist take on the subject would be divorced from the reality of ethnic conflict in general, and language in particular. The emotional significance of the latter cannot be understated, even though individuals are able to make strategic choices with regards to language that factor in their economic and class interests.41 Laitin (1998) suggests a compromise in the form of a constructivist-instrumentalist approach that sees language as both an identity and a preference.42 Adopting such a lens allows for a more nuanced examination of the role that language plays in generating conflict and violence, without overdetermining or undermining the likelihood of such outcomes.

Another reason to reject primordialism is that it fails to account for shifts in ethnic identity.

A constructivist-instrumentalist approach such as the one outlined by Chandra (2012) acknowledges that ethnicity—while significant—is not permanently fixed.43 Individuals are able to traverse group boundaries, and the boundaries themselves become less clear over time. Hale

(2008) argues that, since identity is social, it is inherently dynamic, “situational and ever- changing”.44 Darden (forthcoming) contends that identities are malleable for the most part, but can demonstrate durability under certain conditions.45 Similarly, Varshney (2007) wonders if ethnicity

41William Safran, “Political Science and Politics,” in Handbook of Language and Ethnic Identity, Volume 1: Disciplinary and Regional Perspectives, 2nd edition, eds. Joshua A. Fishman and Ofelia García (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 53. 42David D. Laitin, Identity in Formation: The Russian-Speaking Populations in the Near Abroad (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1998), 20-24. 43Kanchan Chandra, Constructivist Theories of Ethnic Politics (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012), 132- 178. 44Henry Hale, “Explaining Ethnicity,” Comparative Political Studies 37, no. 4 (2004). 45Keith Darden, Resisting Occupation: Mass Literacy and the Creation of Durable National Loyalties (New York: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming). 21 may be “sticky” in the long run and fluid in the short run, since “the same people… pick different sides of their multiple identities at different times” based on their interests.46

If their stability varies depending on time horizons and circumstances, it is plausible that identities based in certain ethnic traits experience change differently than others. For instance, in the short-run, linguistic identities are stable. An individual has mastered at least one language: their mother tongue. Learning another requires time, energy, and resources. In the long run, the individual may acquire a second language and possibly even forget the first. Alternately, they may send their children to a school where the latter can become fluent in a language different than their own. This process demonstrates that linguistic identities that are stable or ‘sticky’ in the short-run are also fluid in the long-run. Furthermore, the timeframe of stability may be shorter for some identities; while racial identities experience change over the course of several generations, the linguistic identity of an individual can shift during their lifetime.

These examples illustrate that many of the assumptions about ethnicity as a unified phenomenon—its origins, the roles of rationality and emotion in shaping individuals’ priorities, and the stability of identities based in it—may not apply uniformly across different types of ethnic groups. Disaggregating ethnicity is necessary in order to examine them closely and parse out how their specific traits affect their conflict behavior.

2.2 Ethnic Cleavages and Conflict

Beyond the nature of ethnicity, sources in the ethnic conflict literature are also concerned with ethnic fractionalization, cultural distance, overlapping cleavages, and specific traits that render groups susceptible to conflict and violence. The first of these, ethnic fractionalization,

46Varshney, “Ethnicity and Ethnic Conflict,” 287. 22 matters to those who believe that identity groups are inherently conflict-prone, arguing that the very existence of such groups requires differentiation and favoritism, which begets inter-group friction.47 Ethno-linguistic fractionalization (ELF) indices like the one devised by Alesina et al.

(2003) measure diversity, or the extent to which a state is racially, linguistically, and religiously heterogenous.48 Studies that use ELFs have attempted to link high levels of ethnic diversity to conflict, to limited success.49 As Fearon and Laitin (1996) show, the majority of ethnic groups coexist peacefully, even cooperatively.50 Moreover, Posner (2004) demonstrates that the same cultural differences give rise conflict in certain cases but not in others, as the political salience of ethnic differences varies.51

Having established that the mere presence of diversity does not explain the incidence of conflict, some scholars have turned their attentions to the kind of diversity observed, namely cultural distance. The latter measures the degree to which identities differ from one another, using proxies such as belonging to the same language family, similarities in group structure, etc.52 Fearon and Laitin (2003) contend that the greater the cultural distance is between groups, the more likely they are to engage in conflict.53 Caselli and Coleman (2013) attribute this dynamic to visibility.

Accordingly, the differences between culturally distant groups are often highly visible, making

47Based on an interpretation of Social Identity Theory (SIT) by Marquardt and Herrera (2015). SIT was originally proposed by Tajfel and Turner (1979). See: Marquardt and Herrera, “Ethnicity as a Variable: An Assessment of Measures and Data Sets of Ethnicity and Related Identities.”; Henri Tajfel and and John C. Turner, “An Integrative Theory of Intergroup Conflict,” in The Social Psychology of Intergroup Relations, eds. William G. Austin and Stephen Worchel (Monterey: Brooks/Cole Publishing, 1979), 33-47. 48Alesina et al., “Fractionalization.” 49Marquardt and Herrera, “Ethnicity as a Variable: An Assessment of Measures and Data Sets of Ethnicity and Related Identities.” 50Fearon and Laitin, “Explaining Interethnic Cooperation.” 51Daniel N. Posner, “The Political Salience of Cultural Difference: Why Chewas and Tumbukas Are Allies in Zambia and Adversaries in Malawi,” American Political Science Review 98, no. 4 (2004). 52Fearon, “Ethnic and Cultural Diversity by Country.” 53James D. Fearon and David D. Laitin, “Ethnicity, Insurgency, and Civil War,” The American Political Science Review 97, no. 1 (2003). 23 them easy targets for discrimination.54 Though visibility is an imperfect measure of cultural distance as the two do not covary in all cases, it helps shed light on the mechanism linking ethnic differences to conflict. The more visible the ‘other’, the less likely they are to assimilate, which makes escalation more likely where some degree of friction is already present.

Another of conceptualizing and measuring the impact of ethnic diversity is in terms of overlapping cleavages. The consensus in the literature is that differences can cumulate and mutually reinforce to generate conflict. As McCauley (2017) explains, “when two or more types of identity—such as ethnicity, religion, or caste—follow the same patterns of division in society, the winners and losers remain fixed and fewer incentives for negotiation emerge”, increasing the likelihood of conflict.55 Stewart (2008) adds that the potential for conflict grows when ethnic identities coincide with socioeconomic inequalities.56 Alternately, Brass (1974) suggests that, when there are multiple cleavages to choose from, ethnic entrepreneurs select one in which to anchor their claims.57 Emphasizing certain ethnic traits over others is done strategically and for political purposes. His observation is particularly relevant to ethnic organizations and the challenges they face in constructing identity frames to garner as much support from the group as possible, whilst also maximizing the likelihood that the state will meet their demands.

Along the same lines, a growing number of studies have suggested that certain markers of ethnicity are more conducive to conflict than others. Their focus thus far has been on religion, with several sources identifying it as a particularly fertile breeding ground for violence.58 Some of these

54Francesco Caselli and Wilbur John Coleman II, “On the Theory of Ethnic Conflict,” Journal of the European Economic Association 11 (2013). 55McCauley, “Disaggregating Identities to Study Ethnic Conflict.” 56Frances Stewart, Horizontal Inequalities and Conflict: Understanding Group Violence in Multiethnic Societies (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), 3-24. 57Paul R. Brass, Language, Religion, and Politics in North India (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1974), 18-42. 58Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt, “Language, Religion, and Ethnic Civil War.” 24 have focused on the contents of religious identities. Juergensmeyer (1993) acknowledges “the violent nature of religion”, citing the prevalence of sacrifice and war in religious symbolism, and offering examples of conceptual violence serving as inspiration and justification for “real acts”.59

Others have argued that conflict surrounding religion is violent because it is less likely to be resolved through compromise. For instance, Reynal-Querol (2002) states that religions are akin to competing world views that cannot be reconciled.60 Toft (2003) contends that violent conflict occurs when religious groups view territory as indivisible.61 Hassner (2009) makes similar claims, highlighting the importance of sacred sites.62

Additional studies have attributed their conflict potential to the way religious groups are structured. Brubaker (2013) points out that religion has a strong “organizational dimension” and a structure of authority to regulate public and private life according to its own set of norms. This aspect of religion positions it directly against the state.63 Alternately, Laitin (2000) argues that religious groups have the ability to police their members, which helps promote group cohesion.

Collective action problems that hinder mobilization for conflict and violence are easier to overcome as a result.64

Though religion is their principal focus, these studies provide a useful frame of reference for examining linguistic groups. For instance, while religious conflict involves irreconcilable differences, language conflict does not. Also, linguistic groups are not as structured or as cohesive as religious groups, and their attachment to territory is more likely to be driven by rational

59Mark Juergensmeyer, The New Cold War? Religious Nationalism Confronts the Secular State (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 153-171. 60Marta Reynal-Querol, “Ethnicity, Political Systems, and Civil Wars,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 46, no. 1 (2002). 61Monica Duffy Toft, The Geography of Ethnic Violence: Identity, Interests, and the Indivisibility of Territory (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003), 29. 62Ron E. Hassner, War on Sacred Grounds (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2009), 2-4. 63Brubaker, “Language, Religion, and the Politics of Difference.” 64Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back.” 25 calculations. These insights serve as the basis for the theory of language adaptability that is presented in detail in Chapter 3.

2.3 Comparing Conflict Potential by Ethnic Trait

Building on the aforementioned broad literature and the subset of it that is concerned with religious conflict, two studies by Laitin (2000) and Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt (2017) set out to compare ethnic groups of different traits and their engagement in conflict. Their findings lead them to make contradictory claims about the relative conflict potential of linguistic groups.

Together, these studies inform the research objectives and methods employed in this dissertation.

First, Laitin (2000) examines the impact of linguistic differences and grievances on the likelihood that minority groups will rebel against the state. Using a three-pronged approach— regression analysis, game theory, and comparative historical analysis of case studies—he finds that (1) the greater the difference between minority and dominant language, the lower the probability of violence, (2) linguistic grievances are negatively associated with violence, (3) linguistic grievances are strongly and positively associated with non-violent protest, and (4) where grievances over language and religion overlap, the probability of violent rebellion is lower than with religious grievances alone.65 In other words, with respect to groups distinguished by language,

Laitin rejects the premise that cultural distance engenders conflict, and that overlapping cleavages result in a more violent outcome.

Laitin attributes his findings to the problem of collective action. Ethnic entrepreneurs who purport to represent minority linguistic groups struggle to recruit rebels for their cause, owing to

“the relative ease of linguistic defection”.66 Language is an important factor of ethnic identity;

65Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back.” 66Ibid. 26 nevertheless, Laitin argues, it is more difficult to organize collectively in the name of linguistic grievances than religious ones. Although it would be in the best interest of linguistic group members to band together for the purpose of extracting concessions from the state, they have incentives to opt out. Specifically, they can choose linguistic assimilation instead of risking their lives in a rebellion. Additionally, Laitin points out that governments are able commit to enacting policies that accommodate demands based on language and do so credibly, because of how long these take to implement or reverse. Both of these conditions—the collective action problem and the commitment guarantee—reduce the likelihood of violence in language conflict. Laitin provides brief examples from India and Sri Lanka to support his argument.

Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt (2017) conduct a similar study, but find themselves at odds with Laitin. Comparing linguistic and religious dyads directly, they reject the claim that language is responsible for fewer outbreaks of ethnic civil war than religion. Their analysis considers grievances, organizational resources, and government action in the form of repression or accommodation. Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt argue that grievances are as just as likely to emerge along linguistic lines as they are along religious ones, as the “omnipresent pervasiveness of language in daily life” makes language “the more prevalent source of perceived injustice”.67 On the subject of collective action, the authors contend that linguistic cleavages are not so easy to overcome. In fact, a common language is crucial for mobilization in that it enables mass communication. Examining government action, Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt conclude that, on the whole, states are no more likely to accommodate demands by linguistic groups than they are religious groups. They attribute this reluctance to economic considerations—specifically, the costs associated with recognizing minority languages in the public sphere. Ultimately, based on a

67Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt, “Language, Religion, and Ethnic Civil War.” 27 quantitative analysis of linguistic versus religious dyads, the authors conclude that language is a more potent source of conflict.

Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt improve upon Laitin by offering a more complex research design, which takes into account segments within ethnic groups. However, they have little to offer in the way of a theoretical framework, and do not include case studies to illustrate their claims.

Finally, though they manage to establish a link between linguistic cleavages and civil war, the authors do not elaborate on the nature of this relationship. Acknowledging this, Bormann,

Cederman, and Vogt recommend that future research projects specify the mechanisms by which linguistic differences contribute to violence.68

When two studies that venture to answer the same question yield diametrically opposite results, it remains unresolved. Nevertheless, their causal reasoning, methods, and findings pave the way for studies to follow, including this dissertation. The theory in Chapter 3 develops on the logic proposed by Laitin. Part I deconstructs both studies and aims to improve on them in a new statistical analysis, while Part II closely examines specific cases of linguistic groups and their experiences with mobilization for conflict, so as to clarify the mechanisms at work.

To conclude, in addition to the studies by Laitin (2000) and Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt

(2017), the dissertation takes into account the constructed and potentially malleable nature of ethnicity, the theorized significance of ethnic distance and visibility, the strategic importance of selecting ethnic traits to construct resonant identity frames and extract concessions from the state, and the characteristics that make ethnic groups more conflict prone. References to these insights from the literature recur throughout the dissertation, where they are either reinforced or challenged through further testing.

68Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt, “Language, Religion, and Ethnic Civil War.” 28

Chapter 3. Theorizing the Effects of Language on Contestation

The following chapter presents the theory of the adaptability of language and its implications for contestation by linguistic groups. The theory posits that, owing to the adaptable nature of language, groups marked by this ethnic trait have a limited capacity for mobilization.

Consequently, linguistic groups will partake in contestation at lower rates than racial or religious groups. The chapter then considers the centrality of language in group identity, and details the mechanism by which differences in identity frames affect the type and intensity of contestation.

Accordingly, ethnic organizations that emerge out of linguistic groups are less frequently associated with violence because they are unable to match the appeals of their religious and racial counterparts. The boundaries that separate linguistic groups are porous, so that individual co- ethnics can opt out of costly group behavior in favor of adaptation or even assimilation.

Organizations that place linguistic difference at the center of their identity will therefore struggle to mount violent campaigns against the state, while those that consider language a peripheral attribute are more likely to turn to violent contestation.

The first part of the chapter looks to differentiate the effects of ethnic traits on group experiences of conflict. Specifically, this section theorizes that groups distinguished by language are less likely to engage in contestation than religious or racial groups. Building on the literature previously outlined, it appears that linguistic groups do not possess the characteristics that make other ethnic groups prone to conflict and resistant to repression. Instead, they are adaptable. The linguistic repertoires of their members are changeable. As a result, ethnic identities based in language are less “sticky” than those based in racial or religious differences, particularly in the long term. Moreover, linguistic groups are not hierarchically organized, and lack vast institutional frameworks with the authority and resources to effectively mobilize co-ethnics. Finally, identities

29 that are rooted in language lack the normative content associated with religious affiliations, which helps regulate co-ethnic behavior. Due to the adaptability of their shared trait, linguistic groups struggle to mount campaigns of contestation against the state.

The second part of the chapter considers variation among linguistic groups. All such groups are historically distinguished by language, but they differ considerably in the position that language occupies with respect to their identity. Some groups place language at the center of their identity, while others see it as peripheral. The centrality of language is determined by the number of co-ethnics who speak it (proficiency) and their attitudes towards it, and is usually reflected in the frames of identity propagated by ethnic organizations that claim to represent the group. If language is adaptable and a poor breeding ground for conflict, it follows that organizations that emphasize language in their identity frames and narratives—including their appeals to co-ethnics and demands against the state—will be less likely to engage in violent contestation. Conversely, organizations that marginalize language in favor of other commonalities are expected to be more successful at mobilizing the group for violence.

Having established the theoretical framework and hypothesized about the behavior of linguistic groups, the chapter delves into the process through which language hinders violent conflict. The causal mechanism proposed in 3.2.2 builds on the logic of language adaptability.

Accordingly, organizations that champion the linguistic difference of their group do not have access to the effective mobilizing strategies used by their counterparts in racial and religious groups. When faced with exclusionary policies, ethnic organizations galvanize support for violent contestation by stoking fear among their fellow co-ethnics. However, restrictions on the use of language are not on par with existential threats, and messages equating the two are unlikely to resonate with an adaptable base. Instead, language-centric organizations can appeal to group

30 members on the basis of their socioeconomic interests, and mobilize them in pursuit of accommodation for speakers. Organizations that de-emphasize the linguistic distinction of the group (language-peripheral) are able to anchor their frames of identity and subsequent demands against the state in ‘stickier’ and more volatile attributes, such as ancestral ties or territorial attachment. As a result, they are better equipped to mobilize for violence. Section 3.2.2 details the steps in this process. A summary of the aforementioned hypotheses concludes the chapter.

3.1 The Theory of Language Adaptability

Certain characteristics render ethnic groups susceptible to intense and protracted conflict.

Groups marked by language score highly on two such characteristics: visibility and public presence.69 Generally speaking, language is more ‘visible’ and easily identifiable than religion; the latter has an outward expression in the physical appearance and behavior of adherents only in some cases, some of the time, while a brief interaction or observation thereof is typically enough to detect a difference in language. Even a hint of an accent or a particular word choice can alert one to the presence of an ‘other’. In theory, language is less visible than race, since the former necessitates a degree of interaction to be discerned. At times, however, the phenotypical differences between groups are so slight that members have trouble identifying even their co- ethnics.70 On the whole, it seems that language is usually less visible than race, and more visible than religion, and this visibility increases the likelihood of intergroup friction.71

69On the importance of visibility, see Section 2.2 in Chapter 2. On the public nature of language, see: Brubaker, “Language, Religion, and the Politics of Difference.” 70Habyarimana et al. (2009) suggest that common perceptions of ethnic visibility may be greatly exaggerated. The authors use several field experiments to demonstrate that, when asked to identify the ethnicity of others, test subjects performed worse than if their answers had been randomized. See: Habyarimana et al., Coethnicity: Diversity and the Dilemmas of Collective Action, 36-67. See also: Horowitz, Ethnic Groups in Conflict, 47. 71Chandra, “What is Ethnic Identity and Does It Matter?”; Caselli and Coleman, “On the Theory of Ethnic Conflict.” 31

The second characteristic that contributes to the conflict potential of linguistic groups is the public nature of language. While the state can claim neutrality with regards to race and religion, it cannot do the same with language.72 Unlike other ethnic traits, language necessitates regulation by the state. There may not be an express need to declare an official language, but the state still has to choose at least one in which to conduct its affairs, therefore privileging it over the rest.73 As a result, language is “chronically and pervasively politicized”.74 Furthermore, effective intergenerational reproduction of language requires the acquiescence of the state. Though mother tongues are passed on from one generation to the next, language is not inherited in the same way that race or even religion are. Unlike the other two, language is unequivocally learned. The transmission of a language beyond what is spoken at home—often the difference between limited proficiency and fluency—is done through schooling, access to which is always regulated in some capacity.75 Simply put, the state cannot avoid making decisions about language, because language is public in a way that race and religion are not. Under such conditions, tensions between linguistic groups and the state are likely to arise.

While relatively high visibility and an inescapable presence in the public realm suggest that language can generate intergroup friction, the absence of other characteristics clarifies the limitations of its conflict potential. As the next few sections make clear, linguistic groups underperform in terms of structure and normative content, while their members enjoy a great deal of agency. This suggests that linguistic groups are less cohesive, ‘explosive’, and resilient than

72Brubaker, “Language, Religion, and the Politics of Difference.” 73Amy H. Liu, Standardizing Diversity: The Political Economy of Language Regimes (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015), 12-13. See also: Pierre Bourdieu, Language and Symbolic Power, trans. Gino Raymond and Matthew Adamson (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1991), 44-46. 74Brubaker, “Language, Religion, and the Politics of Difference.” 75Ibid. 32 racial and religious groups. The adaptability of language makes linguistic groups poor candidates for intense and protracted conflict.

3.1.1 Characteristics of Agency

Language, as an ethnic trait, affects the behavior of groups distinguished by it. Language is acquired by learning, and is both mutable and additive. Members of linguistic groups are therefore able to adapt to their circumstances. There are considerable incentives for individual members to change their linguistic repertoires, and few costs to be borne by doing so. Language skills are closely tied to earning capacity—they represent opportunities to overcome horizontal inequalities that negatively impact speakers of minority languages. As a result, traversing group boundaries is not only possible, but commonplace.

Compared to race or religion, language is mutable. An individual can become fully proficient in a language other than their mother tongue, while the same cannot be said for altering the color of their skin. The ability of racial group members to self-identify as belonging to a different group is subject to significant constraints, imposed not only by their fellow co-ethnics but by outsiders, as well. A change of religion is possible, but the personal and social costs associated with such a move are exceptionally high. Religious conversion requires the individual to renounce their identity in favor of another, all while facing scrutiny from their former community and the prospect of rejection by the group they hope to join.76 Second-language acquisition—albeit difficult—involves fewer fundamental lifestyle changes. Also, though language is changeable, it is not necessarily substitutive; individuals are able retain their native language in addition to acquiring a new one, whereas they are unlikely to hold two competing

76Brubaker, “Language, Religion, and the Politics of Difference.” 33 belief systems at once. That language is additive makes the transition from one group to another an incremental and largely uncontroversial process. Group members are not opposed to sending their children to a school where they will become bilingual, so long as it does not immediately threaten their identity. Over time, however, linguistic groups are more likely to experience first language attrition and an eventual language shift.77

The so-called “ease of linguistic defection” is compounded by the need to expand or alter linguistic repertoires in pursuit of social mobility.78 While labor discrimination against racial and religious minorities is growing less common, the opposite is true for linguistic groups.

Increasingly, language proficiency serves as a prerequisite to career advancement, and linguistic minorities find themselves under mounting pressure to adopt the language of the majority—or, at the very least, a lingua franca—in order to compete. The decision to learn another language or to send children to a different language school is often couched in socioeconomic terms. Changes in linguistic repertoires offer concrete benefits in the form of employment opportunities, higher income, and elevated status, while carrying relatively low costs. On the one hand, language acquisition can be difficult and time-consuming, especially later in life. On the other hand, in cases where the state does not offer any protections for minority languages, assimilation is logistically easier and less expensive than its alternatives. As for the social costs—owing to the additive nature of language and the lack of structure that characterizes these groups, linguistic defectors do not suffer the wrath of their co-ethnics to the same degree that religious converts do.79

77According to Weinreich (1968), the term ‘language shift’ refers to “the change from the habitual use of one language to that of another” by a speech community. May (2012) argues that the process of language shift occurs in stages, commencing with the marginalization of the original language (usually a minority language), through bilingualism, and ends with its replacement by the new (typically majority) language. See: Uriel Weinreich, Languages in Contact: Findings and Problems (The Hague: Mouton Publishers, 1968), 68; See also: Stephen May, Language and Minority Rights: Ethnicity, Nationalism and the Politics of Language (New York: Routledge, 2012), 1-2. 78Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back.” 79Brubaker, “Language, Religion, and the Politics of Difference.” 34

States regulate the use of language in the public realm—in their bureaucracies, schools, places of employment, street signage, etc. In doing so, they create conditions that favor some languages and their respective linguistic groups, and disadvantage others. Seeing as language is changeable, speakers who find themselves constrained by the state are able to overcome these limitations by traversing group boundaries. If excluded from the workforce on the basis of their ethnic identity, members of racial or religious groups have no choice but to mobilize in protest against the state. Linguistic group members, on the other hand, can attempt to adapt by adding another language to their repertoire or that of their children, instead of partaking in costly group behavior. In this sense, members of linguistic groups have more agency than their racial and religious counterparts, who are bound by the ‘stickiness’ of their respective traits.

3.1.2 Characteristics of Structure

Owing to their distinguishing ethnic trait, linguistic groups are relatively unstructured.

They are not hierarchically organized, nor do they have clearly designated bodies with comprehensive authority over all members. Linguistic groups also lack expansive institutional frameworks to effectively harness their resources in pursuit of collective goals. These structural deficits hinder in-group communication and curtail the ability of members to police defectors.80

Unlike the majority of religious groups and certain racial groups, those marked by language do not follow a hierarchical order. For one, they are without a natural head; there is no linguistic group equivalent of elders, chiefs, or religious leaders that act as pre-ordained figures of authority.

Linguistic elites take the form of academies of language, which are responsible for the regulation of grammar and vocabulary. However, these bodies do not exert the kind of control that racial or

80Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back.” 35 religious elites do over their respective groups. Language academies have no say in matters outside of their specific purview, and rarely involve themselves in politics.81 In addition to the absence of a higher authority, linguistic groups are not subject to a strict social order that dictates the behavior of their members, as is common for many groups based in religion or race.

Though they lack a “structure of authority”, linguistic groups are not entirely unorganized.82 Most offer some type of schooling in their native tongue, often in a formal setting.

Outside the home, schools are the main vehicle through which language is transmitted, therefore they are instrumental to the survival of linguistic groups. Schools have a substantial and long- lasting impact; they instill a sense of shared identity, which shapes subsequent behavior, including contestation by group members.83 Yet, in the short term, schools interact with only a subset of the group—namely, co-ethnics of a certain age. Additionally, in cases involving language minorities, access to schooling is often limited and the level of instruction is inferior. Where minority language schools are available, individuals may opt out of using them in favor of alternatives.

The influence of schools as the principal institutional framework found in linguistic groups does not compare to that of religious institutions. For one, members of linguistic groups may attend school in another language and retain their identity, but members of religious groups cannot worship at a different altar. Religious institutions typically have exclusive claim to their respective groups and look to engage the entirety of their membership, whereas language schools target a narrower demographic. Finally, while religious institutions serve as community centers and places of gathering for most or all members of the group, schools are unlikely to fill this role. In spite of their positive, long term impact on group cohesion, schools are not as deeply enmeshed into

81Some language academies do engage in language promotion, which includes advocating in favor of expanded language use. Where language is a politically salient cleavage, their work cannot be considered entirely apolitical. 82Brubaker, “Language, Religion, and the Politics of Difference.” 83Darden, Resisting Occupation: Mass Schooling and the Creation of Durable National Loyalties. 36 linguistic groups as religious institutions are into religious groups. As for racial groups, what they lack in structure and institutions, they make up for in greater visibility and even less agency for individual members than linguistic groups.

The dearth of structure which characterizes linguistic groups also shapes their in-group interactions. Effective communication is difficult to accomplish without a central authority or group-wide institutional framework to support the dissemination of messages to co-ethnics.

Additionally, a lack of spaces akin to houses of worship means that there is nowhere for linguistic group members to gather and share information. The absence of institutions also has a negative impact on the ability of members to ‘keep track’ of one another, and impose consequences on co- ethnics whose behavior deviates from group standards—such as attending school in a different language, for example. In-group policing is particularly challenging when there is no group head to administer it.

Without a hierarchical order or comprehensive institutional framework, members of linguistic groups are subject to fewer group-based constraints. When acting in concert with their group is too costly, individuals can choose to opt out without the threat of repercussions at the hands of fellow co-ethnics. The low level of structure inherent in linguistic groups thus contributes to their adaptability, which in turn has an adverse effect on their capacity to act collectively.

3.1.3 The Normative Content of Identity

Underpinning the effects of language on group structure and the agency of members is the absence of associated normative content. Unlike religion, which endorses an “authoritative, binding, and comprehensive” worldview, language has no intrinsic norms or values.84 This is not

84Brubaker, “Language, Religion, and the Politics of Difference.” 37 to say that linguistic identities are devoid of cultural content. Like every other type of ethnic group, those based in language have their own myths of commonality, history, and customs. However, members of linguistic groups do not adhere to a set of rules that regulates their behavior in public and private. While they may partake in common traditions, they do not necessarily share an understanding of right and wrong that is particular to their group. Furthermore, the contents of their identities do not prevent co-ethnics from existing alongside non-members. By contrast, membership in a religious group requires the acceptance of a truth that is, more often than not, fundamentally irreconcilable with its competitors. Though they are culturally rich, identities rooted in language lack the robust normative core of their religious counterparts.

The “normatively thin” content of language affects the structure of groups for which it is the primary distinguishing trait, and the agency of their members.85 Without a set of norms for all group members to follow, the latter are more likely to defect, and less likely to be punished. It is easier for group members to move across group boundaries in order to improve their socioeconomic status when doing so does not require them to renounce their truth and embrace another. Moreover, opting out of the group is not considered morally wrong, and co-ethnics are subsequently less inclined to police one another. As for the structure of linguistic groups, it is not surprising that they lack institutions with comprehensive reach, when there is no normative reason to compel co-ethnics to participate in them. Absent a shared moral code, the products of structure such as effective communication and compliance with group standards are also adversely affected.

Members who belong in linguistic groups are less likely to receive consistent messaging or to abide by it.

85Brubaker, “Language, Religion, and the Politics of Difference.” 38

In addition to its impact on structure and agency, the normative content of identity directly affects the potential for conflict. The identities of some groups—mostly those based in religion— center around beliefs that pit members against non-members. The resulting disagreements can be difficult or impossible to resolve because they are rooted in opposing worldviews. In extreme cases, the very presence of the ‘other’ is deemed unacceptable. Groups that have normatively rich identities are thus more likely to clash with others. Conversely, linguistic groups, which are somewhat lacking in normative content, have no inherent antagonisms to stoke conflict. This is not to suggest that identities based in language cannot form strong attachments in their members, only that they are neutral with regards to non-members.

3.1.4 Implications for Contestation

Despite its visibility and public nature, language is highly adaptable, which lessens its potential to fuel conflict. As a distinguishing trait, language is mutable and additive, enabling members to traverse group boundaries largely unencumbered. These characteristics undermine the ability of linguistic groups to act collectively. In order to explain how the combination of high agency, low structure, and little normative content make linguistic groups less conflict-prone, it is helpful to envision the emergence of an ethnic organization looking to challenge the state. Such a scenario illustrates the difficulties that organizations that represent linguistic groups encounter when trying to mobilize for contestation.

From the outset, the formation of an ethnic organization in a linguistic group setting is logistically complex. The first step, which involves assembling a number of like-minded co- ethnics, is made more difficult by the absence of a wide-reaching institutional framework. If the group in question were distinguished by religion, they could meet in houses of worship or their

39 affiliated establishments, such as community centers, schools, and prayer groups, where members typically gather. Later on, these would serve as bases of recruitment for the emerging organization.

However, linguistic groups are under-institutionalized. Spaces in which one can expect to find a concentration of co-ethnics are few and far between. An organization may look for volunteers in schools, though its options are limited by the age of attendees, and the scarcity of higher education establishments for minority linguistic groups. Both the initial gathering of members for the purpose of forming an organization and later attempts at recruitment are complicated by linguistic groups’ characteristic lack of structure.

Once an organization is formed, it looks to broadcast its message to the group and appeal to fellow co-ethnics for support. The aforementioned institutions—common in religious groups, and almost entirely absent from linguistic groups—offer a powerful advantage in this regard; emerging organizations are able to use them, not only to advertise their platform and recruit members, but also to extract material resources from the group. Moreover, organizations with close ties to trusted institutions are more likely to be seen as legitimate. Since linguistic groups are relatively unstructured, the organization that grows in this environment will have to work harder to gain traction with co-ethnics. One potential avenue for disseminating information about the organization is media in the language that distinguishes the group. However, compared to religious institutions, these sources have limited reach and no control over members.

To convince co-ethnics to join and support it, the organization is unable to cite normative reasons, given that the linguistic group does not share a set of principles as part of their identity.

In the absence of a hierarchical order, there are no figures of authority to endorse the organization and instruct co-ethnics to rally around it, as is common in many racial and religious settings. In other words, the organization that emerges from a linguistic group cannot rely on structure or social

40 pressure to bolster it to prominence. Instead, it has to convince co-ethnics to participate, fund, shelter, and pay lip service to it on the merit of its identity frames and demands against the state.

In lieu of normative arguments, the organization can appeal to the emotional ties that linguistic groups members have to their mother tongue. However, said members also have more agency than their racial and religious counterparts, owing to the relative ease of defection from the group and the associated socioeconomic benefits. Put simply, they can choose to participate or adapt.

Greater agency for members renders linguistic groups particularly vulnerable to the effects of the collective action problem. This point is articulated most clearly by Laitin (2000), who argues that the absence of “organizational hierarchies with powers to police members”, paired with the possibility of expanding linguistic repertoires at a low social cost, means that it is more difficult for organizations that represent linguistic groups to convince co-ethnics to forgo the pursuit of their individual interests in favor of contestation.86 Not only is there no hierarchical head to carry out in-group policing, but the so-called “linguistic defection” itself is not even defection, it is addition.87 The expansion of linguistic repertoires does not require substituting the mother tongue for another language, nor do these changes automatically constitute shifts in identity. Therefore, linguistic group members have fewer concerns about making them. The very fact that individuals can circumvent constraints placed on the group diminishes their estimation of the benefits to be derived from collective action, particularly in light of considerable incentives to adapt. Finally, without a strong normative commitment to the group, co-ethnics are less likely to be receptive when an organization calls on them to help challenge the state.

Owing to the aforementioned structural, normative, and agency factors, the organization that emerges from a linguistic group struggles with mobilization for collective action more so than

86Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back.” 87Ibid. 41 if its distinguishing trait were a religion or race. That said, the term ‘collective action’ refers to a variety of behaviors, some of which carry more benefits and fewer costs than others. When considering the likelihood that linguistic groups will participate in contestation, it is imperative to distinguish between its violent and non-violent forms. Both fall under the umbrella of state- challenging activities aimed at political ends, which range from symbolic recognition for linguistic groups to tangible concessions, control over resources, and replacement of the state apparatus.

What differentiates the two types of contestation is the nature of the acts involved, and the potential gains and risks to participants. In acknowledgement of these disparities, linguistic group engagement in violent and non-violent contestation are examined separately.

Violent contestation involves the targeting of people—be it state representatives or civilians—through sporadic to sustained attacks, terrorist campaigns, all forms of guerilla activity, and civil wars fought by established rebel armies.88 In the literature on conflict, violence is commonly treated as a highly effective means of contestation.89 However, this assumption is not borne out by evidence—statistically, the use of violent methods against the state is less likely to bring about desired policy changes than strategic non-violence.90 More importantly, violence is costly. This is not referring to the damage violence causes, or the monetary price of doing violence, both of which vary widely. Rather, the costs in question are those paid by perpetrators. Violence against the state carries high risks—incarceration, bodily injury, death—and no guarantee of rewards for those who carry it out. These costs, paired with the adaptability of linguistic groups, make violent contestation difficult to achieve.

88“Minorities at Risk Dataset,” Minorities at Risk Project, Center for International Development and Conflict Management, accessed December 3, 2018. http://www.mar.umd.edu/ 89Erica Chenoweth and Adria Lawrence, eds., Rethinking Violence: States and Non-State Actors in Conflict (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2010), 15. 90Maria J. Stephan and Erica Chenoweth, “Why Civil Resistance Works: The Strategic Logic of Nonviolent Conflict,” International Security 33, no. 1 (2008). 42

What separates linguistic group members from racial or religious ones is that the former have options where the latter do not. When called upon to help challenge the state using violent means, it is easier for linguistic group members to take a less costly (and more reliably effective) course of action. They are not bound by their distinguishing trait in the way that members of other groups are, nor do they face the same social or structural constraints. Though racial and religious group members can try to opt of violent contestation, this is often to their detriment. Their choice is between incurring the high costs of being a perpetrator of violence, or bearing the repercussions of defying the group and suffering repression as a result of their membership in it. As for members distinguished by language, not only are they able to renege on their commitment to the group with few consequences, but they are also better off for it.

Considering the costs of violence, the individuals who partake in it do so because other options are deemed worse or are unavailable. Linguistic group members, by virtue of their adaptable trait, always have alternatives. When asked to participate in violence, they are less likely to do so, resulting in lower rates of violence against the state.

Hypothesis 1: Linguistic groups engage in violent contestation at lower rates than groups distinguished by race or religion.

The first hypothesis of the dissertation represents an easy test of the theory of language adaptability, as a result of the costly nature of violence. If linguistic groups are indeed limited in their ability to overcome collective action problems owing to their distinguishing trait, they should struggle with violent contestation first and foremost. One benefit of measuring violence and non- violence separately is that it captures variation on both parameters. Even though violent contestation does not always require a large number of perpetrators, higher levels of it do hinge on the success of mobilization. During periods of guerilla activity and civil war, active combatants

43 rely on critical support from fellow co-ethnics, who provide food, shelter, and information.91 So, high rates of violent contestation imply broader participation than what is initially assumed. If the aforementioned structural, normative, and agency factors impede collective action by linguistic groups, the latter will be less likely to see successful violent campaigns against the state than racial and religious groups.

When examining the barriers to collective action, it is necessary to take into account the cost differential between violence and non-violence. Since violence targets people for the purpose of doing harm, it is always illegal and carries severe penalties. Non-violence, on the other hand, is often performed through institutional and legitimate means. Forms of non-violent contestation include court action, publications, civil campaigns, symbolic destruction of property, demonstrations, strikes, boycotts, etc.92 Non-violent contestation does not necessarily violate the law, and when it does, the punitive measures are lesser. Additionally, owing to the political nature of contestation, those involved in it are regularly scrutinized. This is especially true for violent organizations, which are seen as extremists, attracting more condemnation and less public support.

The risks to participants in non-violent contestation are therefore considerably lower than those faced by perpetrators of violence. Additionally, non-violence has been shown to be more effective, which raises the odds that group members will reap the rewards from it.93

With its lower costs and greater anticipated benefits, non-violent contestation appears more advantageous. However, it also necessitates high rates of active and visible participation. In other words, non-violent campaigns involve the successful mobilization of scores of group members.

91Best exemplified in Wood (2003), a study of campesino support of insurgents during the civil war in El Salvador. See: Elisabeth Jean Wood, Insurgent Collective Action and Civil War in El Salvador (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003). 92Minorities at Risk Project, “Minorities at Risk Dataset.” 93Stephan and Chenoweth, “Why Civil Resistance Works: The Strategic Logic of Nonviolent Conflict.” 44

Moreover, participation in boycotts, strikes, and protests requires said group members to openly defy the state, not just support a few combatants who do so through violent means (which can be done clandestinely). As a result, non-violence still poses a collective action problem.

Non-violent contestation thus presents a harder test of the adaptability of language. Though it requires mass participation, collective action in the form of non-violent contestation is likely easier to accomplish than controversial, significantly costly, and less politically advantageous violence.94 If the factors of structure, agency, and normative content have their theorized effects, groups marked by language are still expected to lag behind their racial and religion counterparts in terms of their capacity for mobilization. In keeping with the theory previously outlined, linguistic groups should partake in non-violence at lower rates than other ethnic groups.

Hypothesis 2: Linguistic groups engage in non-violent contestation at lower rates than groups distinguished by race or religion.

This second hypothesis marks a departure from the theoretical foundation proposed by

Laitin (2000). He asserts that linguistic groups struggle with collective action (among other challenges) and are therefore less likely to breed violence. However, he also finds a strong positive relationship between linguistic grievances and (non-violent) protest.95 The theory of language adaptability challenges this view, arguing that language as a distinguishing trait creates conditions that are unfavorable to group mobilization overall. It does not create a preference for non-violence over violence, or the other way around. If, however, the theory is wrong, and groups marked by language do favor one type of contestation over another, testing their engagement in violence and non-violence separately will show it.

94Stephan and Chenoweth, “Why Civil Resistance Works: The Strategic Logic of Nonviolent Conflict.” 95Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back.” 45

3.2 The Centrality of Language

According to the theory of language adaptability, linguistic groups struggle with mobilization for violence and non-violence as compared to groups based in race or religion. Still, some linguistic groups experience contestation at higher rates than others. Does the theory shed light on variation within ethnic group type? The answer lies in the concept of language centrality.

Linguistic groups differ from one another in terms of the position that language occupies in their identity. For some, their distinguishing trait is a central feature of their identity, while others experience it as a marginal factor, one that no longer distinguishes group members. Language centrality is usually (but not always) reflected in the identity frames that ethnic organizations propagate in order to gain support from the group they claim to represent. Since language is adaptable, organizations that emphasize this trait are less likely to partake in violent contestation.

Conversely, organizations that downplay the linguistic difference in favor of other, potentially

‘stickier’ commonalities are more adept at mobilizing for violence.

Every linguistic group is ‘marked by language’ in the sense that, historically, language was the ethnic trait its members shared, and the one that served to differentiate the group from others around it. In some cases, the language has gradually fallen out of use, to the point where proficiency is no longer required to establish membership in the group. Nevertheless, language is part of its shared history and cultural heritage, and remains the principal ethnic component in its identity.96 This is true of all linguistic groups included in the universe of cases for this dissertation.

What varies, then, is the centrality of language in group identity. If the latter is akin to a cluster of attributes, where does language place among them? Is it closer to the core, or center? Or is it on the periphery? Its position signifies salience—the more central, the more salient to group identity.

96This, of course, excludes groups distinguished by more than one trait, which are outside the scope of this dissertation. 46

Some factors to consider when trying to approximate the centrality of language are the percentage of co-ethnics who speak it, whether or not proficiency is required to establish membership, and attitudinal measures. Certain uses of the language in the public sphere—in educational and professional settings, for instance—are excluded, as they are typically regulated by the state, and do not reflect the role of language in the identity of the group.

Where language is central to group identity, it effectively distinguishes members of the group from non-members. It is the mother tongue of all or most co-ethnics, and the majority of them report using the language daily. Consumption of literature and media in the language is high.97 Additionally, co-ethnic attitudes indicate their strong attachment to the language, and show a preference for expanding its use in the public sphere. Conversely, where language is peripheral, it cannot be relied upon to identify group members, since many of them do not speak it. Language use among them is low, and limited to the private sphere, i.e., spoken mainly in the home. Members may still hold favorable views of language, but these alone are not indicative of centrality, as their responses may be aspirational or driven by bias.

‘Central’ and ‘peripheral’ are characterizations of the role of language in identity, marking opposite ends of the same continuum. The majority of linguistic groups fall somewhere in between.

Nevertheless, these categories are helpful in thinking about variation among linguistic groups, and how it affects their involvement in contestation. Groups for whom language is central are likely to struggle with mobilization, owing to the adaptability of their shared trait, i.e., its impact on group structure, co-ethnic agency, and normative content that render the group less capable at mobilization. Groups for whom language is peripheral experience the effects of adaptability to a lesser degree, which in turn increases their capacity for mobilization against the state.

97These are often available even in cases where the state restricts language use. 47

When attempting to measure language centrality, one can look at data on proficiency levels, as well as surveys that monitor language use and group attitudes surrounding it. These indicators estimate the role of language in group identity, and by extension, the relationship between language and contestation. However, since the true contents of identity cannot be known, the concept of language centrality does not lend itself to precise measurement, only approximation.98

It is therefore more appropriately used as an antecedent to the independent or causal variable, which examines the centrality of language in the identity frames that organizations employ when mobilizing the group.

The centrality of language in group identity functions as a background condition for the centrality of language in identity frames. Just as ethnic grievances are rooted in the material conditions and lived experiences of group members, identity frames are expected to reflect common perceptions of identity.99 For example, organizations that represent a linguistic group for whom language is central—meaning, language use is high, and attitudes towards it are favorable— will tend to include the trait in their identity frames, in order to gain traction with their fellow co- ethnics. Conversely, if the number of speakers amidst the target audience is particularly low, organizations are unlikely to frame group membership in terms of language proficiency and paint non-speakers as outsiders.

Since the antecedent and causal variables appear similar, it is important to clarify the difference between them. Identity and identity frames are products of the same process. Both are constructs of communal belonging that incorporate shared traits, experiences, and objects imbued

98Chandra, “What is Ethnic Identity and Does It Matter?”. 99Elise Giuliano, Constructing Grievance: Ethnic Nationalism in Russia’s Republics (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2011), 17-18. 48 with meaning by ethnic entrepreneurs.100 However, while the former refers to common perceptions of identity held by the group, the latter are interpretations of identity that specific organizations use to gain traction with group members. Identity frames do not exclusively mirror the contents of identity. Factors such as organizational interests and political trends also play a role in frame construction.101 The centrality of language in identity and the centrality of language in identity frames should not be conflated.

3.2.1 The Centrality of Language in Identity Frames

Identity framing refers to the repackaging of group identity by ethnic organizations for the purpose of mobilization.102 Organizations set out to pursue their agendas by gaining the support of the groups from which they emerge. For this purpose, they employ identity frames, or “interpretive schemes”, that highlight certain aspects of identity over others.103 Successful frames resonate with group members, drawing on shared experiences to produce grievances and provide the impetus for contestation. When constructing their frames, organizations take into account prevalent attitudes regarding the contents of identity—including the centrality of language—alongside their own interests and goals, to determine which aspects of identity will not only attract their fellow co- ethnics, but also mobilize them against the state.104

100David A. Snow and Robert D. Benford, “Master Frames and Cycles of Protest,” in Frontiers in Social Movement Theory, eds. Aldon D. Morris and Carol McClurg Mueller (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992), 137. 101David A. Snow, Rens Vliegenthart, and Pauline Ketelaars, “The Framing Perspective on Social Movements: Its Conceptual Roots and Architecture,” in The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Social Movements, eds. David A. Snow et al., 2nd ed. (Oxford: Blackwell, 2019), 399. 102David A. Snow and Robert D. Benford, “Ideology, Frame Resonance, and Participant Mobilization,” International Social Movement Research 1 (1988). 103Dmitry P. Gorenburg, Minority Ethnic Mobilization in the Russian Federation (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 78. 104Snow, Vliegenhthart, and Ketelaars, “The Framing Perspective on Social Movements: Its Conceptual Roots and Architecture,” 399. 49

To mount a successful campaign of contestation, ethnic organizations must first face the challenge of generating resonant frames. In this sense, they are constrained by common perceptions of identity. If their frames stray too far off-course, they will not appeal to group members, and any attempts at mobilization will fail.105 Consequently, the centrality of language in group identity affects its position in identity frames. If language is a central attribute, organizations claiming to represent the group will tend to advance frames that highlight its importance. We are

X because we speak X. Otherwise, they risk alienating their co-ethnics. If, however, language is peripheral to group identity, said organizations have more leeway in constructing their frames. In lieu of language, they can emphasize their common ancestry or historical claims to territory. We are X because it is in our blood, because we are native to X land, and so on.

Gauging the centrality of language in identity frames requires the close examination of communications between organizations and the groups they claim to represent. The former disseminate information to the latter about their goals and activities using various forms of media and advertising. What is the role of language in their appeals to co-ethnics? Organizations in language-centric groups are likely to use their native language in their communications and emphasize its significance to identity and group membership, in order to signal that the language occupies a central position in their framing of group identity. Said organizations also champion the rights of speakers to use the language the public sphere, in schools and places of employment, on street signs, etc. Conversely, in language-peripheral groups, organizations may speak their native language in conjunction with the language of the state, or not at all. Protecting, expanding, or institutionalizing language use may be part of their broader agenda, but are not considered

105Snow and Benford, “Master Frames and Cycles of Protest,” 136. 50 immediate goals. A general lack of emphasis on the language indicates that its role in their identity frames is peripheral.

The effects of language centrality in identity frames on contestation are predicted by the theory of language adaptability. Since language limits the potential for collective action, it follows that organizations that emphasize language to a greater degree will struggle with mobilization more so than organizations that marginalize it. In other words, organizations that espouse identity frames in which language is a core attribute have a hard time mobilizing group members, because the latter can adapt when faced with state-sanctioned exclusion or repression. Organizations that treat language as a peripheral marker and instead anchor their identity frames and appeals to co-ethnics in less adaptable commonalities are not as limited in their capacity for mobilization, resulting in higher rates of engagement in contestation.

Hypothesis 3: The more central language is to identity frames, the less likely is the organization to engage in violent contestation.

Part II of the study is focused primarily on violent contestation, which makes for an easier test of the theory of language adaptability. Future studies should run more difficult tests, such as examining mobilization for non-violent contestation, in order to establish the limits of the theory and offer further refinement. Having presented a hypothesis about the nature of the relationship between language centrality and violent contestation, the following section examines the way that identity frames affect the process of mobilization for violence.

3.2.2 The Mechanism

Organizations that emerge out of linguistic groups are less likely to mobilize for violent contestation because they struggle to approximate the appeals of racial and religious groups.

Specifically, they have a difficult time convincing co-ethnics that the state poses an existential threat to them. Claims that language bans put linguistic group members in peril are not expected to resonate with the target audience, seeing as language is adaptable, and members distinguished by this trait can overcome the limitations placed on them. As this section will argue, organizations that employ language-centric identity frames tend to highlight socioeconomic concerns, and pursue inclusion or accommodation using mostly non-violent means. On the other hand, organizations that diminish the importance of language in their identity frames are better positioned to attempt violence, since they can build a perception of threat around more enduring aspects of their identity.

Ethnic organizations use identity frames to lay the foundations for contestation. They do so by articulating the problems (or ‘grievances’) that group members face and offering solutions in the form of demands against the state. However, it is not enough to suggest recourse; organizations must create a sense of urgency that will drive their fellow co-ethnics to action.106 To accomplish this, organizations work to create the perception of a looming existential threat. If group members are made to believe that they are at risk, they will be more inclined to support the organization and its operations. This is particularly true of costly forms of collective action. As previously established, violent contestation carries considerable risks to participants—physical harm, incarceration, even death—and group members have no reason to engage in it, unless they are convinced that the alternative will lead to an even worse outcome. Mobilization for violence is therefore more attainable when participants believe that they are faced with an existential threat.107

106Snow, Vliegenhart, and Ketelaars, “The Framing Perspective on Social Movements: Its Conceptual Roots and Architecture,” 397. 107Güneş Murat Tezcür, “Ordinary People, Extraordinary Risks: Participation in an Ethnic Rebellion,” American Political Science Review 110, no. 2 (2016). 52

Organizations that emerge out of ethnic groups cultivate threat perceptions to garner support from co-ethnics. They convince group members that they have no other choice but to rally around them and join in their efforts to protect the group. The efficacy of their appeals lies in group members’ inability to alter their distinguishing traits, which make them a target for the state. In cases involving race or religion, banning the trait is akin to banning the people, since the former are practically immutable. However, banning a language does not amount to an existential threat against linguistic group members, who can (and often, do) speak other languages. If they were subject to exclusion or repression, linguistic group members would be able to learn another language and attempt to assimilate. Members of racial groups could not do the same. Religious adherents, while technically capable of renouncing their faith, would have scruples about doing so, even under threat of death. Linguistic groups members have no normative misgivings to hold them back; even in the absence of repression, there are incentives to encourage them to adapt.

Since organizations within linguistic groups cannot credibly sustain the perception of an existential threat, the latter loses its power as a tool of mobilization. When faced with the prospect of state-sanctioned exclusion or repression, linguistic group members are able to weigh the costs and benefits of participating in violent contestation against those associated with adaptation. They are less likely to choose the former because they can traverse group boundaries with relative ease

(compared to their racial and religious counterparts), effectively overcoming the limitations placed on the group. Considering that violent contestation entails exceptionally high risks, the very presence of viable alternatives makes mobilization by linguistic groups less likely.

Owing to the adaptability of language, organizations that represent linguistic groups are limited in the narratives they can advance. Generally, ethnic organizations must take into account the values and perceptions of the group from which they emerge, if they want to create resonant

53 frames.108 The resulting interpretations of identity, expressed grievances, and demands against the state are all parts of the same narrative, crafted to convince co-ethnics to support the organization and participate in collective action. If the different parts contradict one another, the frame will not appeal to the target audience, nor will it result in successful mobilization.

Following this logic, organizations that place language—an adaptable trait—at the center of their identity frames will avoid making claims that group members are in mortal danger and must engage in violent contestation or perish. Such frames are internally inconsistent, and the likelihood that they will resonate with an adaptable base is low. Moreover, it is difficult to imagine that organizations representing linguistic groups are unaware of the mutable and additive nature of their distinguishing trait. Thus, the majority of organizations with language-centric identity frames will not resort to stoking fears of death in response to limitations on the use of language.

If, however, some do attempt to propagate the perception of an existential threat to convince co- ethnics to mobilize for violence, they will be met with little support (see Figure 3.1).

Figure 3.1 Causal chain linking language-centric groups and identity frames to violent contestation

Instead of stoking fears, organizations that employ language-centric frames are more likely to attract co-ethnics by appealing to their socioeconomic interests. Said organizations portray linguistic group members as speakers, and articulate grievances and demands on their behalf. They

108Snow, Vliegenhart, and Ketelaars, “The Framing Perspective on Social Movements: Its Conceptual Roots and Architecture,” 400-401. 54 are concerned with the ways in which their fellow co-ethnics are disadvantaged by policies related to language, and advocate for their inclusion or accommodation by the state. Knowing that language is adaptable, and that defection occurs in pursuit of social status and prosperity, organizations can garner support by making demands aimed at greater socioeconomic mobility.

When faced with the prospect of exclusion or repression, members of groups for whom language is a central attribute may not be worried about an existential threat, but still have concerns about the marginalization of speakers in the public sphere, including their access to education and employment opportunities. If their representative organizations manage to harness these concerns and propose compelling solutions, they will be better equipped to mobilize co-ethnics.

More importantly, language-centric organizations will not pursue violence to affect policy.

At their core, appeals for inclusion and accommodation do not seek to dismantle the system, but to carve out a place in it. Organizations that promote identity frames centered around language aim to preserve or expand language rights, thereby protecting and benefitting group members as speakers. To achieve these goals, they have to extract concessions from the state. Statistically, these organizations are more likely to bring about desired policy changes through non-violent contestation.109 Not to mention, non-violence is less costly than violence, which makes collective action more attainable, even for linguistic groups that lack the characteristics to mobilize effectively. Taking into account the absence of an immediate existential threat, the limited nature of demands—to gain power within the system, rather than to undo it—and the rates of success associated with non-violence, the predicted outcome for organizations with language-centric identity frames is that they will not mobilize for violent contestation (see Figure 3.2).

109Stephan and Chenoweth, “Why Civil Resistance Works: The Strategic Logic of Nonviolent Conflict.” 55

Figure 3.2 Causal chain linking language-centric groups and identity frames to the absence of violent contestation

Some language-centric organizations that do not set out to engage in violence witness the escalation of their (previously non-violent) campaigns to full-blown violent contestation. Under what circumstances does this occur? Violent escalation can be attributed to an intervening variable that is the response of the state. Whether or not the state chooses to violently repress organizations that employ non-violence in pursuit of inclusion or accommodation will have an impact on the type and intensity of contestation to follow. Violent repression of non-violent movements comes at a high cost; it risks the breakdown of order and obedience among supporters of the state, in addition to domestic and international condemnation.110 More importantly, however, a violent response on the part of the state emboldens organizations that try, and typically fail, to mobilize language-centric linguistic groups for violence. It lends credibility to the argument that the state presents an existential threat to the group and its members. Their appeals may not resonate with a language-centric group under normal circumstances, but witnessing such a response to campaigns for inclusion and accommodation may lead them to believe that they are in grave danger. In response to repression, existing organizations will likely escalate their tactics, and new ones with radical agendas will emerge alongside them. As for their co-ethnics, they will be more inclined to

110Stephan and Chenoweth, “Why Civil Resistance Works: The Strategic Logic of Nonviolent Conflict.” 56 support the use of violence, based on a newly substantiated sense of existential threat (see Figure

3.3).

Figure 3.3 Causal chain linking language-centric groups and identity frames to violent contestation under conditions of state-sanctioned violent repression

In cases involving linguistic groups and organizations that consider language to be a peripheral attribute, violent contestation is even more plausible. Unlike their language-centric counterparts, they are unchecked by the adaptable nature of their distinguishing trait. Since language is not a significant aspect of their identity, the organizations are free to construct frames that emphasize other commonalities, at once more salient and less mutable than language. By anchoring their appeals in these shared attributes, said organizations are able to create perceptions of existential threat, and use them to mobilize for violence against the state.

Linguistic groups that lean ‘peripheral’ on language centrality produce organizations and frames that marginalize the role of language in group identity. Group members are not necessarily speakers of the language, and organizations do not cater to them as if they were. Instead, these organizations construct identity frames using distinctions other than language in service of their goals. They are not concerned with promoting language rights, but with maintaining or increasing the power of the group vis-a-vis the state. Some may seek to replace the state altogether, through violent means. Compared to language-centric organizations, they are more likely to succeed at mobilizing for violence.

Language-peripheral organizations are able to base their appeals to co-ethnics in ‘stickier’ traits than language. Kinship, for one, is not adaptable. Group members are aware that they can change their linguistic repertoires, but their blood ties appear as permanent as race or religion.

Consequently, identity frames that emphasize common ancestry enable organizations to instill in their fellow co-ethnics the fear of an existential threat.111 First, the organizations present identity frames that equate group membership with possession of a trait that is inherited and not easily shed. Then, the organizations convince their co-ethnics that they will be subject to repression on the basis of said trait. Under such circumstances, group members will be more responsive to organizational appeals that claim they must challenge the state, and do so violently, in order to survive (see Figure 3.4).

Figure 3.4 Causal chain linking language centrality to violent contestation

To summarize, groups differentiated by language are more adaptable owing to their distinguishing trait, which affects their structure, the agency of their members, and the normative thinness of their identities. As a result, these groups struggle to act collectively, which in turn makes them less likely to mount challenges against the state. The chapter projects the trajectories

111It is important to note that these traits are not objective truths, but rather the products of long-term identity construction by ethnic organizations and entrepreneurs. However, they are presented as immutable attributes that all group members share. 58 of ethnic organizations that emerge from these groups and the contents of their appeals to co- ethnics for the purpose of mobilization based on the centrality of language in their group identity.

The following section reiterates the three hypotheses discussed earlier in the chapter.

3.3 Summary of Hypotheses

H1 = Linguistic groups engage in violent contestation at lower rates than groups

distinguished by race or religion.

H2 = Linguistic groups engage in non-violent contestation at lower rates than groups

distinguished by race or religion.

H3 = The more central language is to identity frames, the less likely is the organization to

engage in violent contestation.

PART I. ESTABLISHING THE TREND: A QUANTITATIVE STUDY OF GROUP

CONTESTATION BY ETHNIC TRAIT

Chapter 4. Testing the Effects of Ethnic Markers on Violent and Non-Violent Contestation

The goal of the following chapter is to test the first two hypotheses, which stipulate that compared to other ethnic markers, language is associated with a lower incidence of violent and non-violent contestation.112 According to the theory of language adaptability, individual members of linguistic groups may alter their personal linguistic repertoires to traverse group boundaries when faced with exclusion or repression on the basis of their distinguishing trait. The degree of agency that these members enjoy, combined with the lack of structure and associated normative content that characterize linguistic groups, undercut their capacity for mobilization against the state. As a result, linguistic groups are expected to partake in contestation at lower rates than racial or religious groups.113

Whether linguistic groups are more or less conflict-prone than other types of ethnic groups can be established through quantitative testing. As stated in Chapter 2, two studies by Laitin (2000) and Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt (2017) attempt this, reaching opposite conclusions. Laitin finds that linguistic grievances are negatively associated with violence; however, linguistic groups have a strong and positive tendency to engage in non-violent protest.114 Conversely, Bormann,

Cederman, and Vogt demonstrate that “intrastate conflict is more likely within linguistic dyads than among religious ones”.115 That their findings diverge is not surprising, considering that the two studies employ different methodologies, variables, and datasets. This chapter considers the

112See section 3.3 in Chapter 3 for a summary of the hypotheses. 113As a reminder, the dissertation treats these groups as mutually exclusive, unless otherwise specified. 114Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back.” 115Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt, “Language, Religion, and Ethnic Civil War.” 60 merits and drawbacks of each approach, and relies on these insights to construct a new statistical analysis.

Using the All Minorities at Risk (AMAR) dataset, the chapter employs descriptive statistics, ordinal logistic regression and generalized ordered logit, as well as an assessment of average marginal effects to examine the relationship between ethnic markers and contestation.

More specifically, it looks to confirm that linguistic groups are less frequently involved in violent and non-violent contestation than their religious and racial counterparts. The chapter will proceed with an introduction of the data, operationalization of the relevant variables and controls, and an overview of the appropriate statistical methods. It will conclude with a summary of the findings and the implications for the next stage of research.

4.1 Universe of Cases

As previously stated, part I of the dissertation aims to establish the trend with regards to linguistic groups. Are they more or less likely to challenge the state than racial or religious groups?

The first step towards answering this question using statistical analysis is to select a dataset. A benchmark for the study of ethnic groups is the Minorities at Risk (MAR) Project, a longitudinal dataset which tracks 282 “politically active communal groups” in countries where the population exceeds 500,000.116 The groups in question face systematic discrimination and/or mobilize to promote their self-defined interests.117 Laitin (2000) uses MAR, whereas Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt (2017) opt for a dataset in the Ethnic Power Relations (EPR) family, called Ethnic

Dimensions (EPR-ED). EPR reports annual data on 819 “politically relevant ethnic groups” in

116Minorities at Risk Project, "Minorities at Risk Dataset”. 117Ibid. 61 countries of 250,000 or more.118 A group is deemed politically relevant when “at least one political organization claims to represent it in national politics, or if its members are subjected to state-led political discrimination”.119 The main difference between the two datasets is that EPR includes majorities and groups in control of the state, in addition to minorities.

Though EPR purports to be an improvement on MAR, both datasets suffer from selection bias and endogeneity.120 Their universes of cases are made up of groups targeted by either beneficial or repressive policies, in addition to groups have produced nationally recognized organizations (in the case of EPR). When assessing the likelihood that they will experience contestation, selecting groups on the basis of their conflict-prone characteristics or prior experience with mobilization significantly skews the results, and obscures any causal factors that may be affecting both the dependent and independent variables.

A new dataset, All Minorities at Risk (AMAR), attempts to address these concerns. AMAR eschews political criteria in favor of social relevance, selecting groups whose ethnic identities are salient in everyday life, irrespective of their level of mobilization.121 Group membership is determined based on descent and “commonly shared cultural features”, though the latter are not necessarily held or practiced by all co-ethnics—they can be “preserved and studied by a set of members who are broadly respected by the wider membership for so doing”.122 A final requirement is a minimum of 100,000 members, or 1% of the population of the country in which the group

118Manuel Vogt et al., “Integrating Data on Ethnicity, Geography, and Conflict: The Ethnic Power Relations Data Set Family,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 59, no. 7 (2015). See also: Lars-Erik Cederman, Andreas Wimmer, and Brian Min, “Why Do Ethnic Groups Rebel? New Data and Analysis,” World Politics 62, no. 1 (2010). 119Cederman, Wimmer, and Min, “Why Do Ethnic Groups Rebel? New Data and Analysis.” 120Simon Hug, “The Use and Misuse of the ‘Minorities at Risk’ Project,” Annual Review of Political Science 16 (2013). 121Jóhanna K. Birnir et al., “Introducing the AMAR (All Minorities at Risk) Data,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 62, no. 1 (2018). 122Jóhanna K. Birnir et al., “Socially Relevant Ethnic Groups, Ethnic Structure, and AMAR,” Journal of Peace Research 52, no. 1 (2015). 62 resides. The result is a list of 1,202 ethnic groups in 171 countries, tracked over the period 1940-

2006.123

Based on these criteria, AMAR offers the most comprehensive dataset of ethnic groups, and the one least likely to produce invalid findings owing to selection bias. It is therefore the most fitting source for a study of contestation by different types of ethnic groups.

4.2 Variables, Controls, and Methods

The goal of the quantitative analysis is to determine whether linguistic groups see lower levels of violent (H1) and non-violent contestation (H2) than groups marked by race and religion.

The following section will specify the methods used to test these hypotheses, alongside the dependent, independent, and control variables, and compare them to the ones Laitin (2000) and

Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt (2017) use in their respective analyses.

4.2.1 Dependent Variables

In trying to establish whether certain ethnic groups are more conflict-prone than others, the studies by Laitin and Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt employ different dependent variables. The principal outcome of interest for the former is violence, operationalized as the MAR measure of rebellion.124 “Initiated by organizations that claim to represent the group’s interests and directed against governments that claim to exercise authority over the group”, rebellion covers a range of violent activities, from sporadic terrorism to civil war fought by a rebel army.125 Further on in his

123Data for some variables are reported “quinquennially from 1940-1984 and annually from 1985-2006”. See: “All Minorities at Risk (AMAR) Phase I Codebook,” All Minorities at Risk Project, Center for International Development and Conflict Management, accessed 13 January 2020. https://cidcm.umd.edu/research/amar-sample 124Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back.” 125Minorities at Risk Project, "Minorities at Risk Dataset.” 63 analysis, Laitin supplements rebellion with protest, also from MAR. Protest is non-violent and captures both small-scale phenomena like letter-writing campaigns and larger events such as mass demonstrations.126 Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt use a more specific dependent variable, ethnic civil war onset.127 This variable originates in the ACD2EPR dataset, which combines information from EPR and the UCDP/PRIO Armed Conflict Database. Ethnic civil wars are waged between governments and rebel organizations that operate on behalf of ethnic groups and recruit from their midst, with a lower threshold of 25 battle deaths.128

The difference in variables is significant; it shows that the two studies are similar in their inquiries, but have substantially different scopes. While Laitin is interested in a range of conflict behaviors (violent as well as non-violent, high to low, etc.), Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt are concerned with a certain type of conflict, at a particularly high level of intensity. Rebellion and protest capture the breadth of activities that ethnic organizations engage in better than civil war onset, allowing for a more comprehensive examination of the conflict patterns and preferences of groups marked by different traits.

The dependent variable for this dissertation is contestation, which refers to challenges against the state by organizations claiming to represent ethnic groups. In order to capture the broad array of activities that fall under this category, it is necessary to distinguish between violent and non-violent forms of contestation. Though violence is often seen as a natural extension of non- violence, the two represent substantively different pursuits, and should not be measured on the same continuum.129 Violence is not a degree but a form of conflict, “with its own dynamics”.130 In

126Minorities at Risk Project, "Minorities at Risk Dataset.” 127Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt, “Language, Religion, and Ethnic Civil War.” 128Julian Wucherpfennig et al., “Ethnicity, the State, and the Duration of Civil War,” World Politics 64, no. 1 (2012). 129Chenoweth and Lawrence, eds., Rethinking Violence: States and Non-State Actors in Conflict, 3-5. 130Rogers Brubaker and David D. Laitin, “Ethnic and Nationalist Violence,” Annual Review of Sociology 24 (1998). See also: Stathis N. Kalyvas, The Logic of Violence in Civil War (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006). 64 practice, ethnic organizations do not strictly follow a logic of escalation; some show a strong preference for one strategy over another, while others employ both at the same time. A comprehensive examination of the conflict behaviors that different types of ethnic groups engage in requires that violent and non-violent forms of contestation be accounted for, and separately.

Kalyvas (2006) defines violence as “the deliberate infliction of harm on people”.131

Similarly, Chenoweth and Lewis (2013) characterize violent campaigns as those that use physical force to “physically threaten, harm, and kill the opponent”.132 It bears emphasizing that the use of force alone is not sufficient to separate violent contestation from its non-violent forms. Non-violent campaigns may involve symbolic destruction of property, such as when protestors tear down monuments. The principal difference between the two is that violence targets people.133 Violent contestation vary widely in intensity, from stone throwing to full-blown civil war. Non-violent contestation varies too; Sharp (1973) identifies over 200 specific tactics of non-violent resistance, which he groups under three categories: acts of protest and persuasion, non-cooperation, and non- violent intervention.134

The analysis in this chapter uses the AMAR variables of rebellion and protest (which correspond to the same variables in MAR) as measures of violent and non-violent contestation, respectively.135 These variables capture the variation in both without placing them on the same sliding scale. AMAR codes rebellion based on the type and number of violent actions taken by ethnic organizations against the state, ordered by severity, from 0 (none reported) to 7 (protracted

131Kalyvas, The Logic of Violence in Civil War, 19. 132Erica Chenoweth and Orion A. Lewis, “Unpacking Nonviolent Campaigns: Introducing the NAVCO 2.0 Dataset,” Journal of Peace Research 50, no. 3 (2013). 133This interpretation contradicts Pearlman (2011), who offers that the difference between violent and non-violent protest is that the former “entails the exertion of physical force”, while the latter does not. The added criterion of deliberate harm to people differentiates the two in a more substantive way. See: Wendy Pearlman, Violence, Nonviolence, and the Palestinian National Movement (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 3. 134Gene Sharp, The Politics of Nonviolent Action, vol. I-III (Boston: Porter Sargent, 1973). 135All Minorities at Risk Project, “All Minorities at Risk (AMAR) Phase I Codebook.” 65 civil war fought by rebel military).136 The score for each group corresponds to the highest level of violent contestation observed in a given year. The ordinal rebellion is preferable to a dichotomous measure that simply notes the presence or absence of violence, as it allows for more nuanced analysis.137 Furthermore, operationalizing the dependent variable in this way takes into account that some sporadic violence by fringe organizations or individuals is to be expected, and that these events do not necessarily reflect a general trend—that is to say, groups that are less prone to violent contestation on the whole may still experience violence in a limited capacity.

Non-violent contestation is operationalized using the AMAR variable of protest. Just as with rebellion, AMAR assigns a yearly score that reflects the highest level of non-violent resistance to the state.138 As it is also an ordinal variable, protest ranges from 0 (none reported) to

5 (large demonstrations, rallies, strikes and riots of over 100,000 participants).139 This scoring captures the different stages of mobilization for civil campaigns, organized by ascending intensity and scope. To reiterate, a group can score differently on rebellion and protest, since they are independent of one another.

4.2.2 Independent Variables

The studies by Laitin (2000) and Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt (2017) look to evaluate the mobilization potential of linguistic groups compared to religious ones. To this end, they assess the ethnic contents of groups included in their respective datasets. Laitin uses a measure of cultural distance and examines the claims made on behalf of groups.140 Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt rely

136See Appendix 9.1 for a full breakdown of the coding. 137Chenoweth and Lawrence, eds., Rethinking Violence: States and Non-State Actors in Conflict, 3-5. 138All Minorities at Risk Project, “All Minorities at Risk (AMAR) Phase I Codebook”. 139See Appendix 9.2 for a full breakdown of the coding. 140Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back.” 66 on several measures of ethnic difference, and try to take into consideration that groups are often internally divided along ethnic lines, as well.141

Laitin employs two independent variables, language difference and language grievance.

The former represents the distance between the language of the group “at risk” and the language of the majority or dominant group; the languages can be the same, different but of a common family of languages, or different and belonging to separate language families. However, Laitin argues, a difference in language is not sufficient to predict conflict. He adds a second variable that combines two measures of demands surrounding language. The first is for official status, and the second is for the language to be used as a medium of instruction in schools. Laitin uses them to create a composite variable, language grievance, which reflects the maximum value reported for either measure. He then compares language grievance to religious grievance (measured similarly, through demands).142

Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt claim to improve on previous measures of ethnic difference by introducing the idea of “ethnic segments”.143 Instead of classifying groups as either religious or linguistic, they make an effort to account for their internal divisions, breaking groups up into segments. Additionally, Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt emphasize that ethnic difference is relational. They identify the dominant group in each country—often the one in control of the state, though it can also be the largest in demographic terms—and pair it with other groups in the same country to generate dyads, which serve as their unit of analysis.144

As their independent variables, Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt employ three measures of ethnic difference. The first is a mean; much like the language difference variable by Laitin, it

141Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt, “Language, Religion, and Ethnic Civil War.” 142Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back.” 143Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt, “Language, Religion, and Ethnic Civil War.” 144Ibid. 67 reflects the degree of cultural distance between the groups (or segments) within each dyad, calculated with reference to language families and religious denominations. The second is a dichotomous measure of difference, where a score of (1) indicates that more than 50 percent of the members of a group differ on language or religion from their dyadic counterpart, and (0) means the percentage is below 50. The third identifies whether the dyad is split along linguistic or religious lines, or both. In the latter case, it is not possible to know which of the two ethnic dimensions serves as the basis of identification and subsequent mobilization.145

That both studies employ more than one measure of their independent variable is commendable. Upon closer examination, the drawbacks of each approach become more apparent.

In the case of Laitin, using language grievance and religious grievance to explain the incidence of rebellion and protest increases the risk of endogeneity and reverse causality, as group demands for official status and the expanded use of language presuppose a degree of mobilization for the purpose of challenging the state.146 That is to say, the expression of grievances itself can be considered a form of contestation.

Additionally, Laitin’s language difference variable and the mean difference used by

Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt both measure the cultural distance between groups. They estimate the degree to which groups differ from one another based on their origins—whether or not they share proto-languages, fundamental tenets and scriptures, etc. The decision to compare groups in this way is predicated on the assumption that the greater the distance between them, the more likely they are to engage in conflict.147 As indicated in Chapter 2, primordialists attribute this propensity

145Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt, “Language, Religion, and Ethnic Civil War.” 146To reiterate, earlier versions of MAR (like the one used by Laitin for his publication) measured grievances in terms of expressed demands and “statements by group representatives”. See: Minorities at Risk Project, “Minorities at Risk Dataset.” 147Joan Esteban, Laura Mayoral, and Debraj Ray, “Ethnicity and Conflict: An Empirical Study,” American Economic Review 102, no. 4 (2012); Fearon, “Ethnic and Cultural Diversity by Country.”; Fearon and Laitin, 68 for conflict to inherent antagonisms between groups. From a constructivist perspective, Caselli and Coleman (2013) clarify that significant ethnic distance makes it difficult for minority group members to ‘pass’ as the majority, which leaves them more vulnerable to discrimination and incentivizes participation in conflict.148

That said, cultural distance is not the same as visibility.149 The differences between culturally proximate groups may in fact be more visible—that is to say, more easily recognizable— than distant ones. In practice, some of the most intense and protracted conflicts have been fought along sectarian lines. The list includes Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland, Sunni and

Shi’a Muslims in Iraq, and Hutus and Tutsis in Rwanda, among others. The linguistic similarity of Bosnian, Croatian, and Serbian did not temper the conflicts that accompanied the breakup of

Yugoslavia. These examples suggest that culturally adjacent groups are just as prone to friction as groups that differ vastly from one another. Therefore, measures of cultural distance like the ones that Laitin and Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt employ have limited utility as explanatory variables.

The independent variables for this portion of the dissertation are three ethnic traits that distinguish groups: language, religion, and race. This dissertation is primarily concerned with the first of the three variables (language), and the other two (religion, race) are included for the purpose of comparison. They correspond to three “measures of distinctiveness” in AMAR: language, belief, and race.150 On every measure, AMAR compares the group to the largest ethnic group in the same state (“the plurality”) and assigns it a score that reflects the degree of difference between

“Ethnicity, Insurgency, and Civil War.”; Marquardt and Herrera, “Ethnicity as a Variable: An Assessment of Measures and Data Sets of Ethnicity and Related Identities.” 148Caselli and Coleman, “On the Theory of Ethnic Conflict.” 149To revisit the importance of ethnic visibility, see sections 2.2 and 3.1 of the two previous chapters. See also: Chandra, “What is Ethnic Identity and Does It Matter?” 150All Minorities at Risk Project, “All Minorities at Risk (AMAR) Phase I Codebook.” 69 them.151 Since the contents of identity are largely stable and slow to change, the language, belief, and race scores for each group tend to stay the same from year to year.

Language is scored as follows: (0) for a group that speaks the same language as the plurality, or that has assimilated to the language of the plurality, (1) for a multilingual or partially assimilated group, and (2) for a group that primarily speaks one language which is different from that of the plurality.152 The coding for belief follows a similar rubric. (0) on belief indicates that the overwhelming majority of the group belongs to the same religion as the plurality, (1) is for a group that belongs to a different sect or denomination within the same religion, and (2) signifies that the group is of a distinct religion. Groups that encompass members of multiple sects, some of which are the same as the plurality—what Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt would consider

“particularly segmented”—are recoded as (0), since their degree of religious distinction cannot be ranked on this scale.153 As for race, (0) indicates no difference in physical appearance between members of the group and the plurality, (1) is for “physically distinguishable subtype of same racial stock” as the plurality, (2) the group is of different racial stock with substantial intermixture, and (3) the group is of different racial stock than the plurality, except with little to no intermixture.154 AMAR determines “racial stock” based on the geographic (continental) origins of the group.155 While this is a somewhat crude measure, it provides a reference point for phenotypical differences that serve as the basis of racial identities.

Measuring ethnic differences using these three variables in the AMAR dataset is preferable to the measures that Laitin and Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt employ. Language, belief, and race

151All Minorities at Risk Project, “All Minorities at Risk (AMAR) Phase I Codebook.” 152It is not entirely clear where groups that are mostly or entirely bilingual fall in this rubric, though it seems that (1) would be the most appropriate score for such cases. See Appendix 9.3 for a detailed breakdown of the coding in AMAR. 153See Appendix 9.4. 154See Appendix 9.5. 155All Minorities at Risk Project, “All Minorities at Risk (AMAR) Phase I Codebook.” 70 include some information about the origins of groups, such as denominational ties and racial stock, but rely on it less than their MAR and EPR equivalents. Unlike the variables from the other two dataset, language, belief, and race aim to incorporate ethnic practice—taking into account linguistic assimilation, for instance. Though they do not entirely succeed at this, the AMAR variables represent a step in the right direction, by acknowledging members’ lived experiences of difference.

4.2.3 Control Variables

The literature on ethnic conflict offers a variety of potential controls that likely affect the interest and capacity of ethnic groups to engage in violent and non-violent contestation. Laitin

(2000) justifies his choice of controls by citing his own previous work on exogenous factors differentiating ethnic groups that have experienced violence from those that have not.156 He finds that the variables with the greatest predictive power include the log of GDP for 1960, the rate of

GDP growth in the 1960-1980 period, and long-term rural settlement of the group in a specific region of the country (coded as a dummy variable). He also includes a variable for democracy, based on the Polity score in 1989.157 Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt (2017) use a number of

“standard control variables from the literature”, such as exclusion from political power, recent loss of relative power (within the previous two years), group size, log of GDP, log of country population, number of civil wars previously fought by the group, and peace years.158

156Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back.” See also: James D. Fearon and David D. Laitin, “Weak States, Rough Terrain, and Large-Scale Ethnic Violence Since 1945” (paper presentation, Annual Meeting of the American Political Science Association, Atlanta, GA, 2-5 September 1999). 157Ibid. 158Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt, “Language, Religion, and Ethnic Civil War.” 71

The control variables for this dissertation include two measures of group size and regional concentration: group proportion of country population (measured continuously), and group concentration (ordinal; ranging from widely dispersed to concentrated majority).159 High scores on these variables have been shown to increase the capacity and willingness of groups to participate in conflict.160 Therefore, they should be held constant when assessing the impact of ethnic traits. An additional factor to control for is economic discrimination.161 The theory of language adaptability suggests that members of groups marked by this trait can avoid or mitigate the effects of exclusion and repression, including socioeconomic marginalization and discrimination in the workforce, by adding to their linguistic repertoires. As a result, they are less inclined to partake in contestation. To confirm the validity of this argument, the analysis will compare the effects of language on group participation in rebellion and protest when economic discrimination is held constant. Finally, in a separate model, the analysis will control for repression of group members engaged in non-violent collective action, in order to test the theoretical claim that linguistic groups turn to violent contestation (rebellion) when the state represses their engagement in non-violent contestation.162

4.2.4 Methods

In their studies, Laitin (2000) and Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt (2017) employ linear and logistic regressions, respectively. At first glance, the analysis for this dissertation calls for an ordinal logistic regression, owing to the fact that its dependent variables (rebellion and protest)

159See Appendix 9.6.1 and 9.6.2 for a full breakdown of the coding. 160Toft, The Geography of Ethnic Violence, 34-36; Barry R. Posen, “The Security Dilemma and Ethnic Conflict,” Survival 35, no. 1 (1993). 161See Appendix 9.6.3 for a full breakdown of the coding. 162See Appendix 9.6.4 for a full breakdown of the coding. 72 are both ordinal.163 This type of regression relies on the proportional odds assumption, which states that the effect of an independent variable on the dependent variable is the same for all of its ordered categories, so that the relationship between each pair of categories is equal.164 However, an initial test revealed that the variables selected for the analysis violate the proportional odds assumption.165

Such violations are common, and frequently ignored.166 Given this situation, an appropriate substitute for ordinal logistic regression is the generalized ordered logit model.167 This model relaxes the assumption of proportional odds for those variables that do not meet it, while preserving the order of the categories (unlike multinomial logit models).

In order to conduct a thorough investigation of the data, the following section reports the results of ordinal logistic regressions using the aforementioned variables, though they violate the proportional odds assumption, and treats them as preliminary. Then, it further examines the relationships between the variables using the generalized ordered logit, with the intent of arriving at a detailed image of how they interact.

4.3 Analysis

The analysis in this section employs summary statistics, ordinal logistic regression, the generalized ordered logit model, and average marginal effects to examine the relationship between the specific traits that distinguish ethnic groups and their records of participation in violent and non-violence contestation. It begins by comparing the groups based on their distinguishing traits

163See Appendix 9.1 and 9.2 for a full breakdown of the coding. 164J. Scott Long and Jeremy Freese, Regression Models for Categorical Dependent Variables Using Stata, 2nd ed. (College Station: Stata Press, 2006), 197-200. 165See section 4.3.2 of this chapter. 166Richard Williams, “Understanding and Interpreting Generalized Ordered Logit Models,” The Journal of Mathematical Sociology 40, no. 1 (2016). 167Long and Freese, Regression Models for Categorical Dependent Variables Using Stata, 220-221. 73 and mean scores on rebellion and protest, and proceed with the regression analyses and marginal effects.

The first set of models (1-3) deals with rebellion as the dependent variable. Model 1 uses language, race, and belief as the independent variables, and Model 2 adds the controls, group proportion, group concentration, and economic discrimination. Model 3 controls only for repression of group members engaged in non-violent collective action, to determine its effect on the likelihood of violent contestation (rebellion) among groups marked by language. The dependent variable for Models 4 and 5 is protest. Model 4 uses only language, race, and belief as the independent variables, where Model 5 also incorporates the controls for group size, geographic dispersion, and economic standing vis-a-vis the state.

4.3.1 Descriptive Statistics

As previously stated, AMAR includes information on 1,202 groups in 171 countries. The dataset covers the period 1940-2006; data for certain variables (including rebellion and protest) is reported once every five years from 1940 to 1984, and annually from 1985 to 2006. Therefore, the unit of measurement is group-year. Table 4.1 on the following page summarizes the distribution of ethnic traits amongst AMAR groups. Their scores on language, race, and belief remain mostly consistent across time, with a few exceptions. So, for example, “language only” groups are ones that score above 0 on language and equal to 0 or missing on race as well as belief, for all or some of the years reported.168 The majority of AMAR groups do not differ from the plurality on any of

168“For all or some of the years reported” explains why the total number of groups in all categories exceeds 1,202. That is to say, certain groups have seen shifts in their distinguishing traits over time, or their traits were misreported for some of the years. 74 the three traits, or their scores are missing, but this does not significantly decrease the total number of observations.

Table 4.1 AMAR Groups by Ethnic Trait Group Trait Groups Observations Language Only 120 1,928 Race only 24 521 Belief only 126 918 Language and Race 92 1,718 Language and Belief 91 1,349 Race and Belief 11 231 Language, Race, and Belief 98 1,537 No Traits 1,029 1,990

The first step in assessing the relationship between groups’ traits and participation in violent and non-violent contestation is a comparison of means. Table 4.2 on the following page lists the categories of groups based on their ethnic traits and mean scores on rebellion and protest.

The range of potential scores is 0 to 7 and 0 to 5, respectively.169 Overall, the protest means are marginally higher than the rebellion ones. No score on either variable exceeds 2, confirming that ethnic contestation is a rare occurrence. Groups marked by language alone, or language in combination with race or religion (belief) score higher on rebellion than groups that speak the same language as the plurality. This finding runs counter to the argument that linguistic groups are less violent when compared to their racial and religious equivalents. Yet, on protest, “language only” groups lag behind all others. The highest protest scores belong to groups distinguished by race in combination with another trait.

169See Appendix 9.1 and 9.2 for a full breakdown of the coding. 75

Table 4.2 Comparison of Rebellion and Protest Means by Ethnic Trait

Group Trait Rebellion (Mean) Protest (Mean) Language Only 0.817 0.802 Race Only 0.518 0.882 Belief Only 0.642 1.176 Language and Race 0.673 1.377 Language and Belief 0.735 0.889 Race and Belief 0.588 1.416 Language, Race, and Belief 0.698 1.172 No traits 0.543 1.083 Entire Population 0.686 1.072

Laitin (2000) conducts a similar comparison of means, except he recodes the dependent variables to reflect the maximum score of rebellion and protest reported for each group, eliminating as many negative cases as possible.170 Following his example, a comparison of means of maximums yields similar results to the ones reported in Table 4.2. Groups that differ from the plurality linguistically score higher on rebellion and lower on protest than groups marked by race or religion or both, as well as the total population.

4.3.2 Regressions

An initial ordered logistic regression analysis using the independent variables language, race, and belief and the dependent variables rebellion and protest (Models 1-5) was followed by two tests of the proportional odds assumption: a Brant test, and the approximate likelihood-ratio test of proportionality of odds across response categories.171 Statistically significant results on both tests indicate that the variables in question violate the proportional odds assumption, meaning that

170Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back.” 171Long and Freese, Regression Models for Categorical Dependent Variables Using Stata, 220-221. 76 the results of the regressions may be incomplete, or not entirely accurate. However, since such violations are common, many studies go on to report their findings.172 Following this practice,

Tables 4.3 and 4.4 present the results of ordinal logistic regressions using the aforementioned variables. The coefficients are odds ratios; scores smaller than 1 indicate a negative relationship, whereas those larger than 1 are positive.

Table 4.3. Ordinal Logistic Regression on Rebellion (Models 1-3) Rebellion Model 1 Model 2 Model 3

Language 0.74** (0.05) 0.69** (0.06) 0.92 (0.12) Race 1.26** (0.05) 1.22** (0.06) 1.05 (0.08) Belief 1.16** (0.06) 1.10 (0.06) 0.80* (0.07) Group Proportion of Country Population 5.90** (1.85) Group Concentration 2.65** (0.19) Economic Discrimination 1.54** (0.05) Repression of Non-Violence 1.77** (0.07) Observations 3,856 3,293 2,128 LR χ² 58.21 446.21 180 Pseudo R² 0.01 0.09 0.09 Coefficients are odds ratios (standard errors) **significant at p<0.01 *significant at p<0.05

Table 4.3 shows the odds ratio for language in Model 1 to be below 1, which indicates a negative relationship to rebellion. Ceteris paribus, for a one unit increase in linguistic difference, the odds of earning a higher score on rebellion decrease by 0.74. The odds shrink further in Model

2 when controlling for group proportion of country population, group concentration, and economic discrimination. Conversely, in Model 1, race and belief are shown to have a positive

172Richard Williams, “Generalized Ordered Logit/Partial Proportional Odds Models for Ordinal Dependent Variables,” The Stata Journal 6, no. 1 (2006). 77 influence on rebellion. A one unit increase in religious difference—from belonging to the same religion as the plurality to membership in a different sect or denomination, for example— corresponds to a 1.16 increase in odds of an escalation of rebellion, all other factors constant. Yet, the effect loses its statistical significance with the introduction of the first set of controls (Model

2). Of the trait variables, race has the largest and most significant positive effect on rebellion, both with and without controls (Models 1 and 2).

Table 4.4 Ordinal Logistic Regression on Protest (Models 4-5)

Protest Model 4 Model 5 Language 1.09 (0.06) 0.017** (0.06) Race 1.46** (0.04) 0.29** (0.03) Belief 1.01 (0.04) 0.03 (0.04) Group Proportion in Country Population 0.84** (0.21) Group Concentration 0.06 (0.03)

Economic Discrimination 0.36** (0.02) Observations 3,819 3,312 LR χ² 190 383.82 Pseudo R² 0.02 0.05 Coefficients are odds ratios (standard errors) **significant at p<0.01 *significant at p<0.05

Table 4.4 summarizes the preliminary results of ordinal logistic regressions using protest as the dependent variable. In the absence of controls, only race has a statistically significant effect on the intensity of protest, which is positive. For a one unit increase in racial difference, the odds of scoring higher on protest are 1.46, holding all other variables constant. Surprisingly, when controlling for group proportion of country population, group concentration, and economic discrimination in Model 5, race reverses course, showing a relatively strong negative effect on

78 protest (on par with that of economic discrimination). The negative effect of language is small but statistically significant.

As a reminder, the models described thus far fail the proportional odds assumption, which is fundamental to ordinal logistic regression. This assumption states that the effect of an explanatory variable on the dependent variable is the same for every cumulate logit model that can be estimated (comparing ordinal scores 1 versus 2, 3, 4; 1, 2 versus 3, 4, etc.).173 So, an ordered logistic regression produces one coefficient per explanatory variable. Additional testing has shown that the effects of all or some of the ethnic trait variables are not uniform across all scores of rebellion and protest. Instead, their impact is such that the odds of moving from one score to the next vary. To capture this variation and interpret its significance, it is necessary to run generalized ordered logit regression models. Their results are reported in Tables 4.5 through 4.8, alongside the ordinal logistic regression results previously discussed. The coefficients for the generalized ordered logit refer to the odds of scoring in categories 1-7 over 0 (third column from the left), scoring 2-7 over 0 or 1 (fourth column from the left), and so forth.

Table 4.5 on the following page shows the results of regressions using rebellion as the dependent variable. For race and belief, the results of the generalized ordered logit reinforce those of the ordinal logistic regression; the effect is positive, significant, and largely stable across all levels of violent contestation. Racial and religious differences increase the odds of scoring in the most intense categories of violent contestation (6 and 7) compared to the less intense ones (0-5).

Most interesting are the results for language. While the single odds ratio provided by the ordinal logistic regression indicates that greater linguistic difference between the group and the plurality diminishes the intensity of violence, the detailed results of the generalized ordered logit reveal a

173Williams, “Understanding and Interpreting Generalized Ordered Logit Models.” 79 more complex relationship. The majority of the coefficients point to a negative effect of language on rebellion. However, the last two suggest that a difference in language may actually contribute to violent contestation at its highest levels (6 and 7). The statistical significance of this effect fluctuates across categories, pointing to the most important findings: language decreases the odds that groups will experience some degree of rebellion compared to none at all, as well as scoring in the higher categories (4-7) compared the lower ones (0-3), but increases the odds of civil war (7) compared to all other categories (0-6) by 1.73.

Table 4.5 Ordinal Logistic Regression and Generalized Ordered Logit on Rebellion (Model 1)

Rebellion OLR Generalized Ordered Logit 0 vs. 0, 1 vs. 0-2 vs. 0-3 vs. 0-4 vs. 0-5 vs. 0-6 vs. 1-7 2-7 3-7 4-7 5-7 6, 7 7 Language 0.74** 0.73** 0.79* 0.84 0.74** 0.87 1.12 1.73** (0.05) (0.05) (0.08) (0.08) (0.08) (0.11) (0.17) (0.36) Race 1.26** 1.25** 1.33** 1.38** 1.37** 1.29** 1.28** 1.38** (0.05) (0.05) (0.07) (0.08) (0.08) (0.09) (0.11) (0.15)

Belief 1.16** 1.15** 1.29** 1.22** 1.28** 1.11 1.38** 1.91** (0.06) (0.06) (0.08) (0.08) (0.09) (0.09) (0.15) (0.37)

Observations 3,856 3,856 LR χ² 58.21 175.88 Pseudo R² 0.01 0.03

Coefficients are odds ratios (standard errors) **significant at p<0.01 *significant at p<0.05

Table 4.6 Ordinal Logistic Regression and Generalized Ordered Logit on Rebellion (Model 2)

Rebellion OLR Generalized Ordered Logit 0 vs. 0, 1 vs. 0-2 vs. 0-3 vs. 0-4 vs. 0-5 vs. 0-6 vs. 1-7 2-7 3-7 4-7 5-7 6, 7 7 Language 0.69** 0.66** 0.77* 0.89 0.58** 0.77 1.13 25.24** (0.06) (0.06) (0.10) (0.12) (0.10) (0.15) (0.28) (18.52)

Race 1.22** 1.16** 1.26** 1.37** 1.25** 1.10 0.99 108.80** (0.06) (0.06) (0.84) (0.10) (0.10) (0.10) (0.13) (85.33)

Belief 1.10 1.07 1.08 1.04 1.01 0.85 1.07 6.79** (0.06) (0.06) (0.08) (0.08) (0.08) (0.09) (0.14) (2.74)

Group Proportion 5.90** 4.35** 6.68** 9.55** 16.45** 18.61** 32.02** 6.63 in Country Pop. (1.85) (1.39) (2.70) (5.53) (10.04) (13.13) (30.34) (19.39)

Group 2.65** 2.56** 3.06** 3.26** 4.35** 4.17** 4.25** 0.02** Concentration (0.19) (0.18) (0.31) (0.48) (0.70) (0.78) (1.19) (0.01)

Economic 1.54** 1.53** 1.39** 1.34** 1.39** 1.34** 1.32** 1.83** Discrimination (0.05) (0.06) (0.06) (0.07) (0.07) (0.09) (0.10) (0.40)

Observations 3,293 3,293 LR χ² 446.21 753.79

Pseudo R² 0.09 0.16 Coefficients are odds ratios (standard errors) **significant at p<0.01 *significant at p<0.05

Table 4.6 summarizes the results of regressions that include the first set of controls.

Keeping group proportion of country population, group concentration, and economic discrimination constant, the effect of belief loses much of its statistical significance, with the exception of increasing the odds of civil war (7) compared to the other rebellion scores (0-6). Race remains positive and statistically significant for the most part, including a sharp increase in odds

81 of civil war (7), albeit with a very large standard error. The effect of language here is also similar to the previous model (Model 1); it consistently decreases the odds of scoring in the higher categories of rebellion compared to the lower ones. However, a large odds ratio indicates a strong and positive effect on the likelihood of civil war (7) over other levels of violent contestation (0-6).

All three controls contribute to the intensity of rebellion, as predicted by the literature.

Table 4.7 Ordinal Logistic Regression and Generalized Ordered Logit on Protest (Model 4)

Protest OLR Generalized Ordered Logit 0 vs. 1-5 0, 1 vs. 2-5 0-2 vs. 3-5 0-3 vs. 4, 5 0-4 vs. 5 Language 1.09 1.16** 1.14* 0.92 0.63** 0.45** (0.06) (0.06) (0.06) (0.06) (0.08) (0.10) Race 1.46** 1.58** 1.46** 1.06 1.03 0.77 (0.04) (0.50) (0.05) (0.04) (0.08) (0.16) Belief 1.01 1.00 0.96 1.02 1.25** 1.75** (0.04) (0.04) (0.04) (0.04) (0.11) (0.33) Observations 3,819 3,819 LR χ² 190 400.55 Pseudo R² 0.02 0.04 Coefficients are odds ratios (standard errors) **significant at p<0.01 *significant at p<0.05

Table 4.7 displays the results of the ordinal logistic regression and generalized ordered logit with protest as the dependent variable. This table exemplifies the downside of reporting only the former when the proportional odds assumption is violated: the ordinal logistic regression coefficient ‘flattens’ and obscures the effects of the explanatory variables. While the results reported in the first column suggest that the effects of language and belief on non-violent contestation are not statistically significant, the generalized ordered logit coefficients clarify that their impact is limited to certain categories of protest. Belief increases the odds of demonstrations,

82 rallies, strikes, and riots of more than 10,000 participants (4-5) compared to less intense forms of protest. Greater linguistic difference between the group and the plurality results in higher odds of experiencing non-violent contestation beyond verbal opposition, and in lower odds of medium to large demonstrations (4-5) compared to less intense forms of non-violent contestation (0-3). As for race, the generalized ordered logit results clarify that it is statistically significant only with regards to the bottom two categories, meaning that a difference in race increases the likelihood of scoring in the mid-range or higher on protest over the lower levels (0-1).

Table 4.8 Ordinal Logistic Regression and Generalized Ordered Logit on Protest (Model 5)

Protest OLR Generalized Ordered Logit 0 vs. 1-5 0, 1 vs. 2-5 0-2 vs. 3-5 0-3 vs. 4, 5 0-4 vs. 5 Language 0.017** 1.27** 1.29** 1.04 0.70* 0.61 (0.06) (0.08) (0.08) (0.08) (0.11) (0.18) Race 0.29** 1.44** 1.35** 1.02 0.96 0.63 (0.03) (0.05) (0.05) (0.05) (0.09) (0.16) Belief 0.03 1.03 0.97 1.00 1.16 1.42 (0.04) (0.04) (0.04) (0.05) (0.11) (0.33)

Group Proportion in 0.84** 2.05** 3.38** 4.00** 5.33** 5.73 Country Population (0.21) (0.46) (0.81) (1.11) (2.79) (7.17)

Group Concentration 0.06 1.01 1.08* 1.08 1.43** 1.49 (0.03) (0.04) (0.04) (0.05) (0.14) (0.32)

Econ. Discrimination 0.36** 1.46** 1.40** 1.37** 1.44** 1.63** (0.02) (0.04) (0.04) (0.04) (0.09) (0.23)

Observations 3,312 3,312 LR χ² 383.82 618.68 Pseudo R² 0.05 0.08 Coefficients are odds ratios (standard errors) **significant at p<0.01 *significant at p<0.05

Table 4.8 shows the results of regressions including three controls: group proportion of country population, group concentration, and economic discrimination. Belief is no longer statistically significant, and the effects of language and race are limited to the first two coefficients. Both variables increase the odds of groups experiencing non-violent contestation at a level 2 or higher compared to lower levels. So, symbolic resistance and demonstrations of all sizes are more likely the more the group differs from the plurality racially or linguistically.

4.3.3 Marginal Effects

Another way of conceptualizing the relationships between ethnic traits and group participation in violent and non-violent contestation is through average marginal effects.174 For the purpose of calculating these, the ordinal variables language, race, and belief are converted into categorical measures, indicating the presence (1) or absence (0) of an ethnic difference between the group and the plurality.175 Tables 4.9 and 4.10 summarize the results of this analysis.

Table 4.9. Average Marginal Effects on Rebellion

Rebellion

0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 Language 0.022 -0.007 -0.002 -0.001 -0.004 -0.003 -0.003 -0.003 Race -0.091** 0.032** 0.007** 0.005** 0.014** 0.011** 0.010** 0.011** Belief -0.018 0.006 0.001 0.001 0.003 0.002 0.002 0.002 **significant at p<0.01 *significant at p<0.05

With regards to rebellion, the only marginal effects that are statistically significant are those produced by race. The results in Table 4.9 indicate that, on average, racially distinct groups

174Richard Williams, “Using the Margins Command to Estimate and Interpret Adjusted Predictions and Marginal Effects,” The Stata Journal 12, no. 2 (2012). 175See Appendix 9.1, 9.2, and 9.3 for a full breakdown of the coding. 84 are almost 10% less likely to avoid violence. Moreover, said groups are over 3% more likely to engage in political banditry or sporadic terrorism, and are generally more prone to seeing guerilla activity and civil war than groups that belong to the same race (or subtype of racial stock) as the plurality. The findings for language and belief are not statistically significant.

Table 4.10 Average Marginal Effects on Protest

Protest 0 1 2 3 4 5 Language 0.068** -0.004** -0.018** -0.031** -0.012** -0.004* Race -0.333** 0.045** 0.108** 0.129** 0.040** 0.011** Belief 0.017 -0.001 -0.005 -0.008 -0.003 -0.001 **significant at p<0.01 *significant at p<0.05

According to Table 4.10, both language and race have statistically significant average marginal effects on protest. Groups that speak a different language are less likely to partake in non-violent contestation at any level of intensity than those who speak the same language as the plurality. Race has the opposite effect; groups that differ from the plurality on this trait are less likely to score 0 on protest by a staggering 33%. On average, they are 4.5% more likely to see verbal opposition, 10% more likely to engage in symbolic resistance, and almost 13% more likely to give rise to small demonstrations. The marginal effects of race decrease as the size of demonstrations grow.

4.3.4 Summary of Findings

Following Laitin (2000), the analysis commences with a comparison of means. The mean scores on rebellion stack against H1, indicating that linguistic groups are more likely to challenge the state using violence, not less. This finding contradicts the results of subsequent regression

85 analyses which suggest that language as a distinguishing ethnic trait decreases group participation in violent contestation. Laitin encounters similar results in his comparison of maximum means and concludes that “linguistic difference alone between the dominant and minority groups in a country is not a predictor of intergroup violence”.176 He goes on to argue that a difference in language is only significant in conjunction with grievances over its status and use. In other words, it is plausible that language produces or interacts with a latent variable, which would explain the discrepancy in results between the comparisons of means and regressions.

The results of the ordinal logistic regressions on rebellion lend credence to H1. That is to say, the more that groups differ from the plurality on language, the less likely they are to engage in intense violence against the state. This is unlike the other two ethnic traits, which appear to encourage violent contestation. The effect remains and is statistically significant when controlling for size, geographic dispersion, and economic discrimination. The latter control affirms the idea that, even if paths of upward mobility are blocked, groups marked by language are less likely to resort to violence than their racial and religious counterparts.

Delving deeper, the generalized ordered logit model suggests that linguistic differences have the hypothesized effect at lower levels of violent contestation, but amplify violence at its most intense. The model yielded similar results on the two highest categories of rebellion for both race and belief. It is possible that these findings capture a real-world effect, wherein past a certain threshold, every distinction and marker of identity stokes tensions, and conflict is quicker to escalate. An alternative explanation points to an error in measurement. It could be that instances of guerilla warfare and civil war are overrepresented in the dataset, owing to the availability of information about periods of intense fighting compared to sporadic and smaller scale contestation.

176Laitin, “Language Conflict and Violence: The Straw That Strengthens the Camel’s Back.” 86

Moreover, since scores are assigned based on the highest level of violence observed that year, the phenomena described in lower categories is ‘swallowed up’ and subsequently underreported.

Overall, the results on rebellion are mixed, but there appears to be more evidence to support

H1 than to reject it, suggesting that linguistic groups do in fact engage in violent contestation at lower rates than racial and religious groups. These findings closely resemble those of Laitin, though the results of the generalized ordered logit models that show language changing direction to increase the odds of guerilla warfare and civil war offer some support for Bormann, Cederman, and Vogt (2017), whose study was limited to these extreme forms of conflict.

With regards to non-violent contestation, the findings are somewhat more consistent. The mean scores on protest indicate that groups marked by language alone or in conjunction with another ethnic trait are less inclined to partake in non-violent contestation, as H2 posits. While the ordinal logistic regressions show language to have a statistically insignificant or very small negative effect on protest, the generalized ordered logit tells a slightly different story. In the absence of controls, language diminishes the odds of protest at its most intense, but increases the odds of experiencing some non-violent contestation, similarly to race. Even when factors of size, dispersion, or economic discrimination are accounted for, the effect remains. Lastly, the marginal effects confirm that groups that differ from the plurality on language are less likely to engage in non-violence than those that do not.

Much like with rebellion, the evidence that linguistic groups see lower levels of non-violent contestation than their racial and religious counterparts is not overwhelmingly conclusive. Still, the majority of findings point to a negative relationship between language and protest, affirming

H2. The effect is likely small, and not comparable to the impact of race. It is, however, more consistent and statistically significant than that of belief. Interestingly, these findings run counter

87 to those of Laitin, who argues that a difference in language paired with language-based grievances drive group members to challenge the state using non-violent means. His use of the additional grievance variable (which was purposefully excluded from this analysis) may be shifting the effect of language in the opposite direction.

4.4 Conclusions and Limitations

The comparisons of means and analyses of regressions and marginal effects assess the impact of different ethnic traits on violent and non-violent contestation against the state.

Specifically, they test hypotheses 1 and 2, according to which linguistic groups partake in violent and non-violent contestation at lower rates than groups that differ from the plurality in their country in terms of their race or religion. The results substantiate the idea that conflict behavior varies according to group traits. There is some evidence to support both hypotheses, and the underlying assertion that language as a distinguishing trait affects the willingness and capacity of groups to mount campaigns against the state.

A number of discrepancies in the results suggest that the relationships between the variables are more complicated than they initially appear. One way to address this is through additional quantitative testing. To start, replicating the analyses by Laitin (2000) and Bormann,

Cederman, and Vogt (2017) using the significantly larger sample of cases in AMAR would allow for further examination of these studies. The results of these replications would be compared to their original findings, as well as the outputs of ordinal logistic regression and generalized ordered logit models presented earlier in the chapter, as a test of their validity.

Alternately, the dependent variable could be operationalized differently in order to correct for selection bias. As indicated earlier in the chapter, selection bias is a pervasive problem for

88 datasets of ethnic groups. One option is to follow a Heckman model and measure contestation as a two-step process.177 The first step establishes the presence or absence of contestation

(dichotomous), and the second step indicates the type of contestation observed (violent/non- violent, also dichotomous). To incorporate the two-step approach without radically restructuring the dependent variable, the analysis would test to see if violent contestation occurs or does not

(step 2) based on whether group members engaged in non-violent collective action are subject to repression or not (step 1).

However, for the purpose of investigating the relationship between language and contestation, statistical tools alone will only go so far. The next step is to look at the pathways connecting the two, based on the theoretical framework laid out in Chapter 3. This is best accomplished through detailed case study work and qualitative methods in Part II of the dissertation.

177Shenyang Guo and Mark W. Fraser, Propensity Score Analysis: Statistical Methods and Applications (Thousand Oaks: SAGE, 2010), 85-126. 89

PART II. EXPLAINING THE TREND: CASE STUDIES IN THE MOBILIZATION OF

LINGUISTIC GROUPS

The findings of the statistical analysis in Part I of the dissertation offer some support for the assertion that groups marked by language engage in violent contestation at lower rates than other types of ethnic groups. What remains to be determined is the presence or absence of the theorized mechanism, wherein linguistic groups are less conducive to violence because their capacity for mobilization is limited, and the organizations they foster struggle to cultivate perceptions of existential threat. To this end, Part II considers variation among linguistic groups on the parameter of language centrality in group identity, and the consequences of said variation for group behavior. The expectation articulated in Chapter 3 (specifically, H3) is that language centrality is inversely related to engagement in violent contestation. Chapters 5-7 look for evidence of this relationship in Catalonia, the Basque Country, and Galicia, tracing the trajectories of ethnic organizations as they attempted to mobilize these linguistic groups for violence against the Spanish state.

Though it is the historically defining attribute of all linguistic groups, the position that language occupies with regards to the identity of the group varies from central to peripheral. On one end of the continuum are language-centric groups. These groups see high rates of language proficiency among their members, who also consume media in the language and hold favorable views of it. On the other end, language-peripheral groups are characterized by low proficiency, to the point where being able to speak the language does not distinguish members from non-members, and attitudes towards the language are mixed. The role of language in group identity is typically

(but not necessarily) reflected in organizational demands and appeals to fellow co-ethnics, in order to maximize resonance with the target audience. So, language centrality in group identity is the

90 background condition to the explanatory variable, which is the centrality of language in identity frames propagated by ethnic organizations as part of their efforts at mobilization.

As for the outcome of interest, this section of the dissertation focuses primarily on violent contestation, which constitutes an easy test of the theory of language adaptability. The crux of the argument is that linguistic groups have a limited capacity for mobilization. Violent mobilization is more difficult to achieve than non-violence, since the former is more costly, less effective, and condemnable. The bar for success—defined as a sustained and popular campaign of violent contestation—is higher and harder to traverse, as evidenced by the fact that ethnic violence on a large-scale is infrequently observed.178 An initial confirmation of the theory of language adaptability requires that groups and organizations that situate language at the center of their identity struggle to mobilize for violence against the state.

Compared to race and religion, identities rooted in language are less ‘sticky’ and amenable to violent conflict. Language is characterized by adaptability; if the state is repressive, linguistic group members can choose to adapt instead of responding with violence. Moreover, members face incentives to defect from the group, and there is little structure in place to constrain them. This effect is most pronounced in linguistic groups that align themselves closely with their distinguishing trait. Violent organizations that operate in a language-centric context will find it difficult to garner support to sustain their activities, because they cannot convince their fellow co- ethnics that the state poses an existential threat to them. Their campaigns will be shorter and unpopular with the target audience. Language-centric groups are therefore less likely to see successful cases of mobilization for violence. Conversely, groups for whom the language is a marginal factor give rise to organizations that base their frames of identity in more enduring

178Fearon and Laitin, “Explaining Interethnic Cooperation.” 91 commonalities. This, in turn, paves the way for their violent mobilization. Language-peripheral groups will see violent organizations rise to prominence, as they can better approximate the appeals of racial and religious organizations by stoking fear. Their campaigns will be more protracted and attract greater public support, indicating the successful mobilization for violent contestation.

Part II of the dissertation looks for evidence of these dynamics in three groups historically distinguished by their language: the Catalans, Basques, and Galicians. Each chapter examines organizational attempts at mobilization for violent contestation against the Spanish state in the last decade and a half of the Francoist dictatorship (roughly 1960-1975), and through the transition to democracy (late 1970s to early 1980s). This was a pivotal time period for the aforementioned groups, wherein the Spanish system opened gradually, then abruptly. For one, the outcome of the

Spanish Civil War (1936-1939) significantly weakened the established ethnic organizations in

Catalonia, the Basque Country, and Galicia, creating a vacuum to be filled by a new generation.179

Starting in the late 1950s, remarkable yet unevenly distributed economic growth (the Spanish

Miracle) encouraged the Francoist state to ease its repressive efforts. This period of growth altered the demographics of all three regions by precipitating large scale immigration to Catalonia and the

Basque Country and emigration from Galicia.180 Following the death of Franco in 1975, newly ascended King Juan Carlos and his appointed Prime Minister Adolfo Suárez sought to facilitate a peaceful transfer of power, which entailed dealing with surging regional actors, including ethnic organizations.181 Shortly thereafter, Spain adopted a constitutional framework that included a pathway to autonomy for “historical nationalities” (referring to the three groups at the center of

179Juan Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995), 137, 155. 180Daniele Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1997), 118-119, 214. 181Omar G. Encarnación, “Spain After Franco: Lessons in Democratization,” World Policy Journal 18, no. 4 (2001/2002). 92 this dissertation) and other regions, pending internal negotiations and approval by Madrid.182

During this period, the political opportunity structure was such that new ethnic organizations, both violent and non-violent, could assert themselves in the hopes of gaining the support of fellow group members.183

Apart from operating vis-a-vis the same central state, the Catalans, Basques, and Galicians share a number of additional commonalities that render them fitting for comparison. All three are territorially concentrated and make up the majority in their respective regions, later turned autonomous communities of Spain. All had experience with self-rule, though the extent and timing of it vary from case to case. Each of the three groups either passed or attempted to pass a statute of autonomy during the Second Spanish Republic (1931-1936), the brief democratic period that preceded the Civil War and the rise of Francoism. Under the dictatorship, the Catalans, Basques, and Galicians were subject to intense repression and cultural erasure.184 One notable difference between them is the considerably larger population of Catalonia as compared to the other two regions. However, the analysis to follow suggests that ethnic group size does not account for the success of violent organizations.

The Catalans and Basques often appear together in studies of ethnic mobilization as ‘most similar’ cases. Many of these studies set out to explain why a violent Basque organization (ETA) came to succeed, while similar Catalan initiatives (FAC, Terra Lliure) failed to gain momentum.

182The term “nacionalidades históricas” is commonly used to refer to the Catalans, Basques, and Galicians, the three groups that had “affirmatively plebiscited” their respective statutes of autonomy under the Second Republic (1931- 1936). The 1978 Spanish Constitution included a clause that expedited their approval as autonomous communities. See: Cortes Generales, “Constitución Española de 1978”, Boletín Oficial del Estado 311, 29 December 1978, accessed 31 July 2020. https://www.boe.es/eli/es/c/1978/12/27/(1) 183Doug McAdam, “Conceptual Origins, Current Problems, Future Directions,” in Comparative Perspectives on Social Movements: Political Opportunities, Mobilizing Structures, and Cultural Framings, eds. Doug McAdam, John D. McCarthy and Mayer N. Zald (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 27. 184There has been some debate over whether one group suffered more intense repression than others. Still, the majority of analyses on the subject see their experiences as comparable, particularly in the cultural sense. 93

Catalonia and the Basque Country were the first regions of Spain to industrialize and underwent a second industrialization process in the 1950s-1960s as part of the Spanish Miracle, which prompted the arrival of a large number of working class, Spanish-speaking immigrants to those regions.185 Considering this shared background, studies that point to differing levels of economic development as an explanation for violent mobilization in the Basque Country but not in Catalonia can be ruled out. That said, in his comparative analysis of the cases, Linz (1973) frames the argument in terms of class allegiance. He asserts that the Basques were radicalized as a result of their alienation from local business elites with close ties to Madrid, as well as the aforementioned immigrant workers.186 However, as Chapter 6 goes to show, ETA explicitly championed the proletariat and even welcomed the participation of non-Basques in later years. Alternately, their violence, which was inspired by the Marxist revolutionary ethos, can be seen as the consequence of a booming working class. The same is true for the Marxist organizations FAC and Terra Lliure in Catalonia and UPG Frente Armada in Galicia, none of which were able to emulate ETA’s success.

Other explanations have centered on political competition and patterns of mobilization.

Díez Medrano (1995) ascribes the difference in support for violence between the Basques and the

Catalans to the number of ethnic organizations vying for their support.187 So, ETA were more popular because they faced fewer competitors in the Basque Country. However, the empirical record shows that the formerly dominant Catalanist parties were “put out of business” after the

Civil War, clearing the way for an insurgent organization to take their place.188 De la Calle (2015)

185Luis de la Calle, Nationalist Violence in Postwar Europe (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 62-63. 186Juan J. Linz, “Opposition in and under an Authoritarian Regime: The Case of Spain,” in Regimes and Oppositions, ed. Robert A. Dahl (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1973), 170-259. 187Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 171-189. 188De la Calle, Nationalist Violence in Postwar Europe, 69. 94 similarly argues that the successful non-violent mobilization of the Catalans during the Second

Republic left few unclaimed constituencies under the dictatorship, whereas the Basques mobilized later, against Franco and around ETA. This, paired with regional elites that encouraged repression, accounts for violent contestation in the Basque case.189 Both explanations falter when applied to the Galicians. More so than in the other two cases, their mobilization was slower to progress, only accelerating in the very last years of the dictatorship, when political competition was still limited.190 Unlike the prosperous regions of Catalonia and the Basque Country, Galicia remained agrarian and economically disadvantaged during this period, which made it a more likely breeding ground for violence according to grievance-based theories. Yet, violent initiatives in Galicia failed to take root.

Another subset of the literature attributes the success of violent contestation to cultural factors. Laitin (1995) points out that, prior to the Civil War, the Catalanist movement was just as open to the prospect of using violence as its Basque counterpart. However, only the latter embraced violence later on. He argues that low rates of proficiency in Euskara and the difficulty of learning it encouraged ETA to punish fellow Basques for maintaining the status-quo that favored Spanish, as a way to tip the scales in favor of their native language. Other factors, including a dense rural social structure and a series of early successes for ETA, helped foster and sustain a culture of violence in the Basque Country.191 Alternately, Conversi (1997) sees Basque violence as the result of an absence of shared “core values”.192 He contends that the Catalans benefitted from a consistent, unified identity rooted in strong cultural and linguistic ties, whereas the Basques lacked

189De la Calle, Nationalist Violence in Postwar Europe, 79-96. 190Xosé M. Núñez, “National Reawakening Within a Changing Society: The Galician Movement in Spain (1960- 97),” Nationalism and Ethnic Politics 3, no. 2 (1997). 191David D. Laitin, “National Revivals and Violence,” European Journal of Sociology 36, no. 1 (1995). 192Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 1-10. 95 a stable foundation of values and a clear sense of identity, eventually mobilizing around violent contestation, which became a shared value in itself. Both studies recognize that the two groups differ in how they relate to their native language, but treat this discrepancy as a contributing factor rather than the driving force behind group mobilization.

The argument advanced in this dissertation joins this subset of cultural explanations.

However, unlike Laitin (1995) and Conversi (1997), it approaches the role of language in group identity and organizational frames as the principal determinant of mobilization success. Cross-case variation in language centrality is frequently mentioned in the literature, but rarely considered in depth. For instance, Díez Medrano (1995) initially claims that the Catalans and Basques are “alike in being linguistically distinct from the rest of Spain”, therefore language cannot account for the divergence in their nationalist trajectories.193 He later goes on to acknowledge that their patterns of language use and attitudes towards it vary significantly.194 De la Calle (2015) similarly points out that the “availability of ethnic resources” is not the same in the Basque and Catalan cases.195

Many of the same studies refer to the high level of native language proficiency in Galicia, and even point out that it appears to be “inversely proportional to” support for nationalism among the

Galicians, but do not explore this further.196 The issue of language is most often left unexamined or subsumed under a broader theoretical framework.

Part II of the dissertation looks to fill this gap. It closely examines the three cases to establish the centrality of language in their respective identities, and the implications for group mobilization for violent contestation. As chapters 5-7 demonstrate, language is closer to the core of being Catalan or Galician, while its position vis-a-vis Basqueness is best characterized as

193Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 8. 194Ibid. 195De la Calle, Nationalist Violence in Postwar Europe, 63-64. 196Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 163n4. 96 peripheral. In the 1960s to 1980s, violent organizations that emerged from the former two groups struggled to mobilize their fellow co-ethnics, and their campaigns against the Spanish state were short-lived, poorly received by the target audience, and attracted little attention. The Basques proved to be a more hospitable environment for violence, as the organization that grew in their midst during the same period managed to sustain a long-term, relatively popular campaign against the Spanish state. The following chapter look to clarify the relationship between the two variables—language centrality and violent contestation—by focusing on the role of language in organizational framing of identity, demands, and efforts at mobilization.

Chapter 5 centers on Catalonia. The Catalans are an example of a language-centric group; their relationship to their native Català is characterized by high proficiency and a strong sense of attachment. Political Catalanism evolved from the Catalan cultural renaissance, the Renaixença, and its affiliated organizations sought accommodation for Catalans as speakers of Català. When the Francoist regime banned Català, the vast majority of Catalans turned to Spanish (most were already proficient in it) while retaining their native language. Though the number of Català speakers did fall under the dictatorship, this trend can be attributed almost entirely to the influx of

Spanish-speaking immigrants to Catalonia. In addition to their persistent use of Català, non-violent cultural protest that reinforced the significance and vitality of the language became a popular means of contesting the dictatorship, and those who pioneered this successful mobilization were able to convert the support of their fellow co-ethnics into electoral gains when Spain embraced democracy. At the same time, violent organizations like FAC and Terra Lliure were unable to gain traction. Their frames of identity that minimized the importance of Català and their messages regarding an existential threat to the Catalans did not resonate with the target audience. Members

97 of the group were able to maintain and assert their identity by adapting their linguistic repertoires and without needing to resort to violence.

Chapter 6 turns to the Basque Country, where the native ethnic group is best described as language-peripheral. Historically, the Basques were set apart from other groups by their native

Euskara. Over time, the use and relevance of Euskara declined significantly, owing to the unique composition of the language, its late standardization, and the centralizing influence of Spanish.

Additionally, the Basque nationalist movement emphasized race over language in their framing of

Basque identity, which contributed to the marginalization of Euskara. Under Franco, Euskara speakers became a minority in the Basque Country, and proficiency in the language no longer served to distinguish between Basques and non-Basques. Against this background, ETA originated as a non-violent cultural organization that rejected the racism of its predecessors, instead promoting a revival of Euskara, as well as a language-centric frame of Basque identity. However, it soon became apparent that this did not resonate with the majority of Basques, including their own militants. Over time, ETA scaled back their cultural activities and emphasis on Euskara. This transition away from a language-centric frame coincided with the adoption of violent tactics. ETA reframed Basque identity to be more inclusive by dropping the requirement of proficiency in

Euskara, and provoked the Spanish authorities to repress indiscriminately, thus cultivating a perception of existential threat among the broader population of the Basque Country. This, in turn, enabled ETA to successfully mobilize the public in support of their violence against the state.

Finally, Chapter 7 looks for evidence of similar dynamics in Galicia. In terms of language centrality, the Galicians fall in between the former two groups. While the number of speakers of

Galego remained overwhelmingly high even through the Franco years, attitudes towards it were mixed, as the language had come to be negatively associated with rural backwardness. This state

98 of ambivalent centrality of language in Galician identity meant that a growing number of urban- dwelling Galicians eagerly adopted Spanish, a process which accelerated in light of the ban on their native language. However, owing to the geographic isolation and under-development of

Galicia, the majority of the population lived in rural agrarian communities and maintained Galego as the principal language of intergroup communication. Unlike the other two groups, the Galicians did not have to contend with an influx of Spanish-speaking immigrants, which helped minimize any sense of existential threat. The Galicianist movement was slower to emerge, and the majority of its organizations centered their frames of Galician identity around Galego and focused their efforts on elevating the status of the language. Under Franco, the more radical and expressly political UPG seemingly had the advantage in pursuing a combined nationalist and socialist agenda without the inherent contradiction that plagued similar endeavors in the Catalan and Basque cases.

However, mixed attitudes towards Galego and Galicianism limited their social penetration and thwarted their attempts at creating a violent front.

Chapter 5. The Central Role of Català and the Stunted Nature of Catalan Violence

The following chapter examines the dynamics of violent mobilization in the context of a language-centric linguistic group. Taking a close look at the significance of Català to its eponymous people, the chapter considers the implications of language centrality for the development of Catalanism in the last decades of Francoism and through the democratic transition.

In particular, it looks to explain the failure of armed organizations Front d’Alliberament Català

(FAC) and Terra Lliure to mobilize the Catalan public against the Spanish state. Since its inception, the Catalanist movement based its claims in the distinctiveness of the Catalan language.

Under Franco’s dictatorship, Catalan contestation took the form of non-violent cultural protest.

The very use of Català during this period became a popular and effective means of resistance. As the state failed to substantially undermine the Catalan language—and with it, Catalan identity— the aforementioned armed organizations could not cultivate perceptions of threat to sustain their violent campaigns.

Following the Civil War, Franco stripped Catalonia of its autonomy, and the Catalanist organizations that had flourished under the Spanish Second Republic were subject to disbandment and exile. The dictatorship also banned the use of Català, a vital marker of Catalan identity. Despite this repression, the explicitly anti-Spanish FAC and Terra Lliure struggled to gain traction, attracting few recruits and supporters. In order to explain why these violent organizations did not succeed in appealing to their fellow co-ethnics, the chapter considers published accounts by their former leaders and militants as they recall their campaigns and the challenges they faced. The chapter also examines their mobilizing rhetoric as reflected in official statements and pamphlets disseminated by FAC and Terra Lliure. It relies on original translations of these documents from

Spanish and Català. The primary source analysis is supplemented by contemporaneous news

100 reports and op-eds drawn from the archives of El País, La Vanguardia, and Avui, as well as an array of secondary sources.

The chapter opens with a brief history of Catalanism and violence in Catalonia, providing necessary context for the puzzling lack of popularity of violent organizations that claimed to represent the Catalans under the dictatorship. It continues with an examination of the central role of language in Catalan identity, and the ways in which it shaped Catalan contestation through the

Franco years and beyond. Subsequent sections focus on FAC and Terra Lliure, juxtaposing their experiences and public responses to them with the success of non-violent organizations that operated during this period, particularly those that advocated on behalf of speakers of Català. The chapter concludes with an evaluation of the theory of language adaptability in light of the Catalan case.

As a final introductory note, the chapter mentions two other violent organizations that emerged in Catalonia around the same time: Partit Socialista d'Alliberament Nacional-

Provisional, or PSAN-P and Exèrcit Popular Català, also known as ÈPOCA. Their operations were either too limited (PSAN-P) to be included in this analysis, or strictly clandestine and without a clearly articulated political agenda (ÈPOCA). Details regarding their interactions with FAC and

Terra Lliure are presented when relevant.

5.1 Catalonia, Catalanism, and Violence

The term ‘Catalans’ identifies members of an ethnic group that traces its geographic origins to the historic Principality of Catalonia, a region extending across the eastern Pyrenees mountains and along the Mediterranean coast, from the northeast of Spain to the south of France.

Occasionally, the term is used to describe speakers of the Catalan language and its variants that

101 reside in the greater Països Catalans (Catalan Countries), which include Valencia, the Balearic

Islands, and parts of Aragon in Spain, Pyrénées-Orientales in France, Alghero in Italy, and

Andorra.197 For the purpose of this dissertation, ‘Catalans’ will refer to natives of Catalonia, specifically the provinces of Barcelona, Girona, Lleida, and Tarragona, unless otherwise specified.

Catalonia emerged as a separate entity in the 9th century, though its linguistic differentiation from Castile began as early as the Roman period.198 Under the Crown of Aragon, the Principality of Catalonia became a prosperous mercantile empire and developed legislative and governing institutions: the Corts and the Generalitat, respectively. These were abolished in the decades following the dynastic union of Aragon and Castile, as part of the centralizing Nueva

Planta decrees issued in the early 18th century.199 Despite the loss of its institutions, Catalonia continued its economic advancement, far outpacing that of Castile. The former experienced early industrialization while the latter remained agrarian.200 The combination of wealth and political subservience fostered resentment among the growing Catalan bourgeoise and made them more receptive to Catalanist ideas once these gained ground.201

The roots of Catalanism lie firmly in the Catalan cultural renaissance, the Renaixença.

What began as a literary movement in the 1830s later expanded to other fields, facilitating early expressions of Catalanist sentiment in Català. Influential publications from this period introduced the notion of a uniquely Catalan national spirit.202 They rejected Spain as the fatherland of the

197In present day Valencia, the language is known as “Valencian”. It was recognized as a regional language by the 1978 Spanish Constitution. Elsewhere, regional dialects (Algherese, Balearic) are spoken. 198Kathryn A. Woolard, Double Talk: Bilingualism and the Politics of Ethnicity in Catalonia (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1989), 15. 199Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 11. 200Woolard, Double Talk: Bilingualism and the Politics of Ethnicity in Catalonia, 22. 201Albert Balcells, Catalan Nationalism: Past and Present, trans. Jacqueline Hall (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996), 18-21. 202Josep R. Llobera, “The Idea of ‘Volksgeist’ in the Formation of Catalan Nationalist Ideology,” Ethnic and Racial Studies 6, no. 3 (1983). 102

Catalans and called for a return to Catalan self-rule. In the second half of the 19th century, these ideas evolved into concrete political initiatives that opposed Castilian centralization. In other words, political Catalanism grew out of the Catalan cultural revival, and was shaped by it.

In addition to its cultural origins and early bourgeoise support, prior to the Second Republic

(1931-1939), the Catalanist movement was regionalist, not separatist.203 Early Catalanist organizations like the Lliga Regionalista de Catalunya (Regionalist League of Catalonia) looked to secure favorable conditions for Catalonia within a federal framework: protectionism, local administration under Catalan law, and official status for Català.204 Though they saw centralization as an impediment to Catalan prosperity, Catalanist leaders avoided calls for independence.205 That the Catalanist movement did not seek to break away from Spain, but to extract concessions for the benefit of group members, is in line with the predictions of the theory of language adaptability.

A pervasive misconception about Catalan society is that it was inherently less violent than its Basque counterpart. In fact, the Catalans experienced their fair share of violence, both prior to and during the spread of Catalanism. Being an early industrializer, Catalonia developed a large urban working class, which gave rise to class conflict.206 For parts of the 19th and early 20th centuries, Barcelona was an epicenter of unrest, rioting, and insurrections.207 Anarcho-syndicalism flourished in the region, and escalating labor disputes were common.208 In 1909, a general strike led to the imposition of martial law, which devolved into a week of violent clashes between Catalan

203Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 20. 204Stanley Payne, “Catalan and Basque Nationalism,” Journal of Contemporary History 6, no. 1 (1971). 205Both Valentí Almirall and Enric Prat de la Riba, the most prominent Catalanist thinkers of the late 19th and early 20th century, refrained from advocating for separatism. 206Payne, “Catalan and Basque Nationalism.” 207Stanley G. Payne, Basque Nationalism (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1975), 50. 208Anarcho-syndicalism refers to a movement “made up of revolutionary unions of workers… acting to bring about a stateless (anarchist), self-managed society”. See: Vadim Damier, Anarcho-syndicalism in the 20th Century, trans. Malcolm Archibald (Edmonton: Black Cat Press, 2009). 103 workers and the Guardia Civil (Setmana Tràgica, or Tragic Week).209 The following two decades saw high incidence of labor-related shootings, bombings, and arson.210 That is all to say, though the Catalans were not immune to violence, their experiences with it were unrelated to ethnicity.

Amidst this turmoil, the Catalanist movement developed peacefully, making significant electoral and administrative gains. 1914 marked the establishment of the Mancomunitat de

Catalunya (Commonwealth of Catalonia), an assembly of representatives from the four Catalan provinces. The dictatorship of Primo de Rivera (1923-1930) abolished the Mancomunitat, but the movement recovered quickly, passing a Statute of Autonomy and re-constituting the Generalitat

(Catalan regional government) in 1932. At the same time, more radical forms of Catalanism began to emerge.211 In 1922, Estat Català (Catalan State) became the first Catalanist organization to advocate for separatism.212 Later on, Estat Català joined the coalition Esquerra Republicana de

Catalunya (ERC), or Republican Left of Catalonia, and proceeded to take control of the

Generalitat.

In the years prior to the Civil War, Catalanism was popular among different subsets of the

Catalan population, judging by the electoral victories of its organizations across the political spectrum—first the conservative Lliga, then the leftist ERC—as well as high rates of participation in the 1931 referendum and overwhelming support for autonomy, which was approved almost unanimously by three-quarters of the electorate.213 To reiterate, this successful mobilization of the

Catalan public was in pursuit of regionalist goals, such as language recognition. Even the more radical Catalanist organizations sought federal solutions instead of outright independence. For

209Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 29. 210Stanley G. Payne, “Political Violence During the Spanish Second Republic,” Journal of Contemporary History 25, no. 2/3 (1990). 211Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 93-104. 212Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 32. 213The ‘Statute of Núria’ was approved with 99.4% of the votes. See: Norman Jones, “Regionalism and Revolution in Catalonia,” in Revolution and War in Spain, 1931-1939, ed. Paul Preston (Abingdon: Routledge, 1984), 89. 104 example, Estat Català was party to the Pact of San Sebastián, which called for the establishment of a Spanish Republic.214 In 1931, ERC unilaterally declared Catalonia a state “of the Iberian federation”.215 They did so again in 1934 under new leadership, this time asserting Catalan statehood “in the Spanish Federal Republic”, and also invited the Spanish left to form a provisional

Republican government in Barcelona.216 In both cases, the added caveats serve as evidence that the intent was to amass power in the existing political system, not dismantle the system altogether.

In addition to shying away from separatism, most Catalanist organizations did not mobilize for violent contestation against the Spanish authorities. The select few that attempted violence were unable to do so successfully. In 1925, Estat Català planned to stage an uprising against the dictatorship of Primo de Rivera, but struggled to attract, train, and arm recruits, and its operations consisted primarily of disseminating propaganda.217 ERC rose to power with the support of the same electorate that had been involved in bloody class conflict for decades prior, yet its declaration of statehood in 1934 was unpopular and failed to amount to a coup.218 Shortly thereafter, ERC joined a broad coalition of Spanish left-wing parties and went on to lead the Catalan regional government.219

This section covers the emergence of Catalanism out of the cultural Renaixença and establishes its predominantly regionalist and non-violent nature, which “has always sought greater autonomy within Spain, rather than secession as such”.220 What originated as a bourgeoise

214Notably, the Basque nationalists (PNV) did not participate. 215“Ban de la proclamació de la República Catalana, a càrrec de Francesc Macià (14-4-1931),” Joves i Republicans: La República a Manresa (1931-1936), Associació Memòria i Història de Manresa, accessed 3 February 2021. http://www1.memoria.cat/joves/content/pol%C3%ADtica 216“Aquel octubre en que se proclamó el Estado Catalán y duró 10 horas,” El Español, 9 July 2017. 217Enric Ucelay-Da Cal, “Estat Català: The Strategies of Separation and Revolution of Catalan Radical Nationalism (1919-1933)” (PhD diss., Columbia University, 1979). 218Agustí Colomines i Companys, “Representing Catalan National Identity. Catalonia during the Spanish Second Republic and the Civil War,” Journal of Catalan Studies (2008). 219Payne, “Catalan and Basque Nationalism.” 220May, Language and Minority Rights: Ethnicity, Nationalism, and the Politics of Language, 258. 105 phenomenon eventually spread to other sectors of the population in Catalonia and succeeded in reviving institutions of Catalan self-rule that dated as far back as the Middle Ages. Though the

Catalanist movement developed against a background of violence surrounding labor issues, support for violence in pursuit of separatist goals was scarce. The lack of violence associated with

Catalanism can be understood in the context of language centrality in Catalan identity, which is the focus of the next section.

5.2 Catalan Language and Identity

The Catalans are set apart from other groups in Spain by their language, Català. Like

Spanish and Galego, it belongs to the Romance language family, and the three are mutually intelligible to some degree. However, Català is not a dialect of Spanish, despite the best efforts of the Francoist regime to classify it as such.221 Català developed independently of Spanish, which contributed to its resilience over time, both as a distinct language and the ethnic marker that differentiated the Catalans from their surroundings. Moreover, the growth of Catalanism directly out of the Renaixença meant that Català was the main vehicle of expression for the political aspirations of the Catalan people. As a result, the language assumed a central role in Catalan identity, as well as the frames of identity advanced by Catalanist organizations from the time the movement first originated.

Català evolved from Latin, emerging in “fairly definitive form” during the 11th century.222

Its unified grammar and orthography facilitated the production of a rich and diverse Catalan literature as early as the 13th century. Around the same time, Català also served as the language

221Heinz Kloss, “Abstand Languages and Ausbau Languages,” Anthropological Linguistics 35, no. 1/4 (1993). 222Woolard, Double Talk: Bilingualism and the Politics of Ethnicity in Catalonia, 14. 106 of record for the original Generalitat and Catalan town councils.223 The economic prosperity of the Principality of Catalonia facilitated the spread of the language across the Països Catalans.

However, the decline of the region in the 15th and 16th centuries drove the Catalan elites to abandon Català in favor of Spanish.224 The Nueva Planta and other centralizing decrees were aimed at formalizing this transition by mandating the use of Spanish in official capacity.225 Their efforts did not yield the desired language shift in the general population, owing to the weakness of Spanish nation-building.226 At a time of widespread illiteracy, restrictions on Català had little impact on oral use, and their enforcement in schools was left up to local authorities.227 In effect, the elites in

Catalonia willingly ‘Castilianized’ in response to socioeconomic incentives, while the vast majority of Catalans continued to use the vernacular.

The impact of the Renaixença in the 19th century was threefold: it restored the prestige of

Català, established its centrality in Catalan identity, and laid the foundation for Catalanism. A prominent theme of the Renaixença was glorifying the medieval history of Catalonia, including the literary and administrative functions of Català.228 At the turn of the 20th century, the language was standardized, which allowed it to serve as both a symbol of Catalan tradition and a means of communicating about its significance.229 By the time political Catalanism came to the fore, Catalan consciousness was already inextricably tied to—and expressed in—Català.230

223Woolard, Double Talk: Bilingualism and the Politics of Ethnicity in Catalonia, 14. 224Ibid., 18-21. 225David D. Laitin, “Linguistic Revival: Politics and Culture in Catalonia,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 31, no. 2 (1989). 226Juan Linz, “Early State-Building and Late Peripheral Nationalisms Against the State: The Case of Spain,” in Building States and Nations, eds. S. N. Eisenstadt and Stein Rokkan (Beverly Hills: Sage, 1973), 32-112; Laia Balcells, “Mass Schooling and Catalan Nationalism,” Nationalism and Ethnic Politics 19, no. 4 (2013). 227Woolard, Double Talk: Bilingualism and the Politics of Ethnicity in Catalonia, 21; Manuel Ardit, Albert Balcells, and Núria Sales, Història dels països catalans de 1714 a 1975 (Barcelona: EDHASA, 1980), 39-44. 228Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 92. 229Balcells, Catalan Nationalism: Past and Present, 25-27. 230Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 16. 107

The contents of seminal Catalanist publications confirm the central position that the language came to occupy in frames of Catalan identity. In “Lo Catalanisme”, Valentí Almirall argued that Català was the clearest manifestation of the distinct character of the Catalans.231

Almirall also helped draft the “Memorial de Greuges”, which articulated the grievances of the

Catalan people, including their dismay at the restrictions placed on their native language.232 Enric

Prat de la Riba, who penned “La nacionalitat catalana”, saw language as a natural phenomenon and expression of the national spirit, going so far as to deem it vital to the survival of a nationality.233 Prat de la Riba went on to serve as president of the Mancomunitat. In this role, he pursued policies aimed at normalizing the use of Català.234

The significance of Català as the basis of political demands only increased with time. Early on, Catalanist organizations advocated for language co-officiality. However, by 1892, recognizing

Català as the only official language of Catalonia was the third item of the “Bases de Manresa”, a proposed constitutional blueprint for the region.235 The latter approach informed the text of the

“Estatut de Núria” (Statute of Núria), the draft of the statute of autonomy at the time of the referendum. Over 99% of Catalans who voted in the referendum did so in favor of Català as the sole official language of Catalonia, with additional protections for Spanish speakers. It was not until after the vote that the 1932 Statute of Autonomy was amended to include Spanish alongside

Català, as a compromise to Madrid.236

While it is true that organizational frames of identity do not always reflect the lived experiences of group members, in the case of the Catalans, the two were a match. The centrality

231Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 17-19. 232Ibid. 233Enric Prat de la Riba, La nacionalitat catalana (Barcelona: Tip. L'Anuari de la Exportació, 1906). 234Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 170-171. 235“Les Bases de Manresa,” Les Bases de Manresa (1892-2017), Ajuntament de Manresa, accessed 5 April 2020. http://www.basesdemanresa.cat/les-bases-de-manresa/ 236Woolard, Double Talk: Bilingualism and the Politics of Ethnicity in Catalonia, 27. 108 of language in Catalan identity can be established based on the consistently high rates of proficiency and use among the Catalans. Despite the influence of Spanish, Català remained the

“habitual [spoken] language of the urban and rural masses” in Catalonia.237 Following the

Renaixença, the language also regained its appeal in the eyes of Catalan elites, to the point where the dynamic between Català and Spanish could not be characterized as outright diglossia.238

Instead, the two languages were in conflict, competing for hegemony.239 Moreover, just as Català became a modern literary language, Catalan literacy grew exponentially. By 1920, over two thirds of the Catalan population were no longer illiterate, and many of them were educated in their native language.240 The Mancomunitat (1914-1925) actively promoted Català through cultural institutions as well as schooling.241 Though Primo de Rivera outlawed the use of Català in the public realm, he could not quell public demand for it. Consequently, during the Second Republic,

Català achieved official status. Also during this period, books, newspapers, and magazines in

Català accounted for over 12% of all publications in Spain, which was higher than the percentage of Catalans in the country.242

In the face of socioeconomic incentives to assimilate to Spanish and state-led efforts to marginalize or even ban Català, the language remained at the core of Catalan identity, as evidenced by a high percentage of speakers—approximately 90% of the population of Catalonia in 1939— who avidly consumed media in their native language, and wished to have it represented in official

237Woolard, Double Talk: Bilingualism and the Politics of Ethnicity in Catalonia, 23. 238‘Diglossia’ refers to the use of two languages or two dialects of a language in different contexts by the same speakers. One of the languages is associated with ‘high’ or formal context, whereas the other is ‘low’ or colloquial. See: Francesc Vallverdú, Ensayos sobre bilingüismo (Barcelona: Ariel, 1972); Henry Miller and Kate Miller, “Language Policy and Identity: The Case of Catalonia,” International Studies in Sociology of Education 6, no. 1 (1996). 239Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 168-169. 240Mercedes Vilanova Ribas and Xavier Moreno Julià, Atlas de la evolución del analfabetismo en España de 1887 a 1981 (Madrid: CIDE, 1992), 218. 241Balcells, “Mass Schooling and Catalan Nationalism.” 242Laitin, “Linguistic Revival: Politics and Culture in Catalonia.” 109 capacity: in schools, workplaces, bureaucracies, etc., indicating that their attitudes towards the language were favorable.243 Catalanist organizations reinforced this sense of language centrality in their bids for support from the Catalan public, which helped propel them to electoral success.

Language centrality also shaped their agendas and operations—aimed at affirming the significance of Català as well as empowering its speakers, and best accomplished through non-violent means.

5.3 Non-Violent Resistance to Franco

The previous two sections establish the centrality of Català in Catalan identity and its implications for the development of Catalanism. Up until the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939),

Catalanist organizations centered their frames of identity on Català as a symbol of the glorious past of Catalonia and the basis of demands for Catalan self-rule. These frames appeared to resonate with fellow co-ethnics, who voted en masse for Catalan autonomy and Catalanist parties in both local and general elections. The success of Catalanist organizations can be attributed to the fact that the vast majority of Catalans continued to use their native language, even as it was subject to exclusion and outright repression. In other words, the Catalanists benefitted from their pursuit of language recognition and protections for speakers through institutional channels, which helped them attract the support of a Català-speaking Catalan public.

This section examines the evolution of Catalanism and popular Catalan contestation under the dictatorship of Franco. In the aftermath of the Civil War, approximately 200,000 Catalans fled the region.244 Among them were members of Catalanist organizations that had aligned themselves with the Second Republic and fought on its behalf. Early on, they hoped that the WWII Allies would intervene to remove Franco. When that failed to pass, the Catalanists in exile struggled to

243Miller and Miller, “Language Policy and Identity: The Case of Catalonia.” 244Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 113-114. 110 create a unified front against the new regime.245 Absent effective political leadership and subject to repressive measures intended to eliminate their ethnic identity, the Catalans did not mobilize for the first two decades of the dictatorship. When Catalan contestation finally gathered steam in the late 1950s, it took the form of non-violent cultural protest.

Under Franco, the Catalans had to contend with intense cultural repression, of which Català was the main target.246 The regime cracked down on all public manifestations of the language: banning its use in schools and businesses, erasing all mentions of it from signage, street names, libraries, and town squares, burning books and shuttering cultural institutions, etc.247 Individuals caught speaking Català or “suspected of Catalanist sympathies” risked harassment, fines, and loss of employment.248 Official policy was aimed at dialectization: claiming that Català was a regional variant of Spanish, as opposed to a separate language. The goal was to erode the idea of a distinct

Catalan identity and any nationalist claims stemming from it.249 “At this point”, writes Conversi

(1997), “the danger of a violent turn for Catalan nationalism was vividly present”.250

However, Francoist attempts to do away with Català and Catalan-ness were unsuccessful.

The language ban did not displace Català in the private sphere, and it remained the principal form of communication in most informal settings.251 In response to the restrictions, Catalans used

Spanish in addition to their native language, as the latter continued to be passed on in the home, from one generation to another. The result was overwhelming bilingualism; Woolard (1989)

245Montserrat Guibernau, Catalan Nationalism: Francoism Transition, and Democracy (London: Routledge, 2004), 54-55; Casilda Güell Ampuero, The Failure of Catalanist Opposition to Franco (1939-1950) (Madrid: CSIC, 2006), 17-18. 246Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 225. 247Laitin, “Linguistic Revival: Politics and Culture in Catalonia.”; Woolard, Double Talk: Bilingualism and the Politics of Ethnicity in Catalonia, 28-29. See also: Josep Benet, Catalunya sota el règim franquista (Barcelona: Editorial Blume, 1978). 248Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 111-112. 249Ibid., 114. 250Ibid., 117. 251Woolard, Double Talk: Bilingualism and the Politics of Ethnicity in Catalonia, 28-29. 111 asserts that, by the end of the dictatorship, there were virtually no monolingual speakers of Català left, indicating that the majority of the Catalan population had successfully adapted.252 Instead of erasing the Catalan language, Franco appeared to institutionalize diglossia—Spanish was the public, formal, and written language, while Català was reserved for social interactions between family members, or out in the open in rural communities.253

To clarify, the percentage of Català speakers in Catalonia did decline under the dictatorship, but not as a result of a loss of native language proficiency among the Catalans. Rather, it was due to the influx of immigrants that accompanied the industrial expansion of the region as part of the Spanish Miracle. It is worth noting that, between 1964-1975, unemployment in

Catalonia was just half of the national rate, suggesting that the majority of Catalans did not have trouble finding jobs despite the restrictions on their language.254 Newcomers to the region spoke

Spanish and continued to do so, having little to no incentive to learn Català.255 By 1970, approximately 40% of the inhabitants of Catalonia were “non-native born”, which roughly corresponds to the percentage of the population that did not speak Català.256 In other words, the

Catalans did not experience a language shift from Català to Spanish. Instead, they used the latter as needed whilst preserving the former, at least in its spoken form.

Moreover, owing to the centrality of language in Catalan identity, the Catalans actively resisted the expulsion of their native tongue from public life. In addition to using Català in private and passing it on to their children, they continued to consume books and media in the language

252Woolard, Double Talk: Bilingualism and the Politics of Ethnicity in Catalonia, 28-29. 253Laitin, “Linguistic Revival: Politics and Culture in Catalonia.” 254Francisco Pérez, Francisco José Goerlich, and Matilde Mas, Capitalización y crecimiento en España y sus regiones 1955-1995 (Bilbao: Fundación BBV, 1996), 179. 255Laitin, “Linguistic Revival: Politics and Culture in Catalonia.” 256Estimates of the percentage of Catalan speakers in 1975 vary between 52% and 60%. See: Woolard, Double Talk: Bilingualism and the Politics of Ethnicity in Catalonia, 33; Miller and Miller, “Language Policy and Identity: The Case of Catalonia.” 112

(despite their limited availability) and pushed back on the restrictions using non-violent means.257

Notable examples of protests from this period include the 1959 boycott of the newspaper La

Vanguardia after its director, Luis Martínez de Galinsoga, lashed out against the use of Català in church. The following year, a crowd defiantly sang the traditional “Cant de la Senyera” (Song of the Catalan flag) during a commemorative event at the Palau de la Música (Palace of Music) in

Barcelona with several state officials in attendance.258 Also in 1960, 100 members of the Catalan intelligentsia published a letter demanding recognition for their native language.259 Cultural organizations that predated the dictatorship, such as the Institut d’Estudis Catalans (Institute of

Catalan Studies), resumed their activities while suffering harassment by the authorities, and new ones like Ómnium Cultural confronted the regime with the express intent of promoting Català.260

That same decade, the Nova Canço (New Song) movement popularized music in Català, facilitating the dissemination of Catalanist ideas through song lyrics.261 Most if not all of these instances of contestation were centered around the Catalan language.

Non-violent cultural protest that reaffirmed the centrality of Català in Catalan identity proved to be a source of unity that transcended religious piety, class divides, and political partisanship, and garnered public support for the organizations that engaged in it. Catholic monasteries and churches that delivered mass in Català became popular gathering places, even though they had supported Franco during the Civil War, and the majority of Catalans identified as

257Andrew Dowling, Catalonia Since the Spanish Civil War: Reconstructing the Nation (Eastbourne: Sussex Academic Press, 2013), 84-85. 258Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 161-162. For detailed accounts of both events, see: Joan Crexell, Els Fets del Palau i el consell de guerra a Jordi Pujol (Barcelona: La Magrana, 1982). 259Ibid. 260Balcells, Catalan Nationalism: Past and Present, 149. 261Guibernau, Catalan Nationalism: Francoism Transition, and Democracy, 64-65. 113 secular.262 The Unified Socialist Party of Catalonia, or Partit Socialista Unificat de Catalunya

(PSUC), an illegal political party which emerged as the main opposition to Franco in Catalonia in the 1960s, published their magazine exclusively in Català.263 The aforementioned Ómnium

Cultural was founded by members of the Catalan bourgeoise, and when the regime outlawed the cultural organization between 1963 and 1967, PSUC expressed their dismay, arguing that the ban amounted to an attack on Catalan language and culture.264 Once reinstated, Ómnium Cultural engaged in language instruction and teacher training, whilst protesting the illegality of such activities under Francoism. Between 1968 and 1971, their membership grew from 639 to a staggering 11,000.265 Ómnium Cultural pioneered the re-introduction of Català in schools and continued to exert its influence well after the fall of the regime.266

After a decade of cultural protests and other non-violent contestation centered around the

Catalan language, in 1971, the various anti-Francoist organizations in Catalonia consolidated to form the Assemblea de Catalunya (Assembly of Catalonia). This new political vehicle brought together clandestine parties of different ideological persuasions, labor unions, professional associations, clerics and leading academic and cultural figures under the slogan, “Llibertat,

Amnistia, Estatut d’Autonomia” (“Liberty, Amnesty, Statute of Autonomy”). The slogan summarized their principal demands: democratic freedoms of assembly, expression, and association “that guarantee the people effective access to economic and political power”, amnesty

262The Abbey of Montserrat famously served as a shelter for left-wing nationalists, at one point attracting a crowd of 100,000 people. See: Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 126-127. 263Dowling, Catalonia Since the Spanish Civil War: Reconstructing the Nation, 73. 264Ibid., 76-79. 265Guibernau, Catalan Nationalism: Francoism Transition, and Democracy, 57. 266Dowling, Catalonia Since the Spanish Civil War: Reconstructing the Nation, 86, 98. 114 for political prisoners and exiles, and restoration of the 1932 Statute of Autonomy.267 Considering the size and diversity of the Assemblea, this platform represented the lowest common denominator for their member organizations.268 While the legalization of Català was not explicitly listed, it was inextricable from the first and third demands.269 Both would have enabled the Catalans to reclaim public use of their native language. The campaign was successful at mobilizing scores of ordinary

Catalans not usually involved in politics, who took part in mass demonstrations following the death of Franco in 1975.270

As these examples illustrate, non-violent Catalan contestation intensified over the course of the last decade and a half of the dictatorship, starting with relatively small and isolated instances of boycott and civil disobedience and culminating in highly coordinated campaigns of protest against the Spanish state. Notably, much of it was centered around Català. The language served as both a symbol of Catalan identity and culture, and the practical form of expression for group members, almost all of whom were speakers and wished to be accommodated as such. Though their bilingualism enabled them to adapt to the restrictions placed on Català, the Catalans mobilized in support of their language by lending their support to initiatives and organizations that promoted their right to use the language and access educational and employment opportunities, as indicated in the platform of the Assemblea de Catalunya.

267“El final de la dictadura,” Memorial Democràtic de Catalunya, accessed 13 April 2020. http://memoria.gencat.cat/ca/que-fem/exposicions/exposicions-en-linia/catalunya-en-transicio/el-final-de-la- dictadura-/ 268Scott L. Greer, “Who Negotiates for a Nation? Catalan Mobilization and Nationhood Before the Spanish Democratic Transition, 1970-1975,” Democratization 23, no. 4 (2015). 269Article 2 of the Estatut de Catalunya established Català as the official language of Catalonia, alongside Castilian Spanish. See: “El traspàs de serveis de l’Estat a la Generalitat: De l’Estatut de 1932 a l’Estatut de 2006”, Departament d’Interior, Generalitat de Catalunya, accessed 13 April 2020. http://exteriors.gencat.cat/web/.content/autogovern/documents/COMISSIO- MIXTA/traspas_estat_generalitat_web_tcm112-131894.pdf 270Balcells, Catalan Nationalism: Past and Present, 169. 115

Despite the best efforts of the Francoist regime to undermine it, Català remained at the core of Catalan identity, and group membership was still predicated on proficiency in the language.

This became even more apparent following the arrival of 1.4 million Spanish-speakers to Catalonia between 1950 and 1975.271 The demographic shift sparked a debate over what it meant to be

Catalan. A 1964 book on the subject titled “Els altres catalans” (The Other Catalans) highlighted the struggles of these mid-century immigrants and their subsequent alienation from Catalan-ness, including their use of Spanish.272 The author, Francesc Candel, was himself an immigrant to

Catalonia. Nevertheless, he wrote in Català. In “Els no catalans i nosaltres” (The Non-Catalans and Us), Manuel Cruells criticized Candel for minimizing the importance of learning Català un order to assimilate in Catalan culture, writing: “to be Catalan cannot be bought or sold, it can only be earned. And [the immigrants] will not be Catalans until they speak like us…”.273 Though the two publications differed in their assessments of the challenges faced by new immigrants to

Catalonia and how best to address them, both reinforced the association between language and belonging in Catalan society.

Much has been written about the civic and inclusive nature of Catalan identity. These studies often cite Jordi Pujol, a prominent figure in Catalan politics, who famously campaigned on the idea that a Catalan is “anybody who lives and works in Catalonia”.274 In his early writings,

Pujol elaborated on this description, specifying that a Catalan was someone “who makes Catalonia his/her home and country, with which he/she incorporates and identifies”.275 Pujol acknowledged

271Woolard, Double Talk: Bilingualism and the Politics of Ethnicity in Catalonia, 30-33. 272Balcells, Catalan Nationalism: Past and Present, 153. 273Cruells quoted in Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 215. Originally in Manuel Cruells, Els no catalans i nosaltres (Barcelona: Edicions d’Aportació, 1965). 274Pujol quoted in Woolard, Double Talk: Bilingualism and the Politics of Ethnicity in Catalonia, 36. 275Pujol quoted in Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 195-196. Originally in Jordi Pujol, La immigració, problema i esperança de Catalunya (Barcelona: Nova Terra, 1966). 116 the need to be inclusive of the immigrants to Catalonia, particularly since they made up a significant percentage of the population and had higher birth rates than native Catalans. However, he also believed that they had a duty to adopt the culture in which they landed.276 Pujol added:

“Language is the decisive factor in integration. It is the most definitive. A man who speaks Catalan and who speaks [it] to his children, is already a Catalan at heart”.277 In other words, the popular and so-called inclusive vision of Catalan-ness according to Pujol was still contingent on proficiency in Català.

Also notable is the fact that, prior to his entry into party politics, Pujol was at the forefront of language-centric non-violent contestation against Francoism, orchestrating the aforementioned

Galinsoga and Palau affairs. This involvement helped propel him to electoral success during the democratic transition and beyond. As president of the reestablished Generalitat, Pujol pursued legislation aimed at linguistic normalization: designating Català as a language of instruction in schools and offering immersion programs for Spanish-speakers. This, in addition to the official status granted by the 1979 Statute of Autonomy, which recognized Català as the “llengua propia”

(proper/own language) of Catalonia.278 As a final note, the term used to refer to all inhabitants of

Catalania was ciutadans (citizens), not Catalans, lending further credibility to the argument that immigrants to the region were not automatically considered members of the group.279

This section examines the implications of language centrality for Catalan contestation under Franco. It highlights the ability of the Catalans to adapt to the repression of Català, as well as their willingness to engage with the myriad of language-centric cultural initiatives and protests

276Woolard, Double Talk: Bilingualism and the Politics of Ethnicity in Catalonia, 33-36. 277Pujol quoted in Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 195-196. Originally in Pujol, La immigració, problema i esperança de Catalunya. 278Miller and Miller, “Language Policy and Identity: The Case of Catalonia.” 279The term was famously (and controversially) used by Josep Tarradellas, Generalitat president in exile, on his arrival back to Barcelona following the death of Franco. Today it is commonly associated with Ciudadanos, a political party that opposes Catalan independence. 117 that flourished in the late 1950s onwards. Through persistent private use and intergenerational transmission, group members were able to maintain their native language and identity. Moreover, they lent their support to organizations and individuals that pursued accommodation for them as speakers of Català by challenging the authority and legitimacy of the repressive Spanish state through non-violent means. Considering the popularity of the Assemblea de Catalunya, why did violent organizations that expressed similarly anti-Francoist views struggle to garner support from their fellow co-ethnics? The following sections examine this question more closely.

5.4 Front d’Alliberament Català (1969-1977)

The Catalan Liberation Front, or Front d’Alliberament Català (FAC) emerged in 1969 as an independist organization dedicated to contestation through armed struggle.280 Over the course of the next 3 years, FAC committed more than 100 acts of violence against the Spanish state, yet failed to capture the attention of the Catalan public.281 Instead, the organization appealed to radicalized, immigrant-born Spanish-speakers. Their involvement shaped FAC’s framing of

Catalan identity and proposed strategy for Catalonia. In addition to targeting the dictatorship, FAC positioned themselves against the Catalan bourgeoise and other Catalanist organizations, whose moderation they perceived as collusion with the Spanish oppressor. The resulting dynamic alienated much of the Catalan population, and FAC were unable to mobilize fellow co-ethnics in support of their cause, dissolving in 1977.

In their early years, FAC did not have a clearly defined political program, and no formal records from this period exist.282 The founders of the organization contend that their original

280Some sources date the “birth” of the FAC to 1966. See: Blai Manté, Front d’Alliberament Català: Sabotatges per la independència (1966-1977) (Barcelona: Editorial Base, 2009). 281Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 163. 282Manté, Front d’Alliberament Català: Sabotatges per la independència (1966-1977), 11. 118 mission was strictly nationalist, “without socialist-inspired ideological additions”.283 Former FAC

(and Terra Lliure) militant Jordi Vera (1985) tells a slightly different story, describing the initial stance as an amalgamation of “different tendencies (socialist, communist, anarchist)”.284 What cannot be disputed is that the organization soon found itself torn between the goals of national liberation and class struggle. This was not uncommon for ethnic organizations that emerged in the

1960s. However, it took on an added meaning in the Catalan context.285 Catalanism was traditionally associated with the Catalan bourgeoise. At the same time, the working class in

Catalonia included a significant number of Spanish-speaking immigrants. So, left-leaning

Catalanists had to grapple with the fact that socialism was frequently perceived as a foreign influence. Across the Catalan class divide, each side accused the other of espanyolisme, or susceptibility to Spanish manipulation.

Adding to the dilemma, the militants of FAC were split both demographically and in terms of strategic priorities. The organization was divided between older veterans of anti-Francoism dating back to the Civil War, and a younger generation of “Catalan children of immigrants”.286

The latter were less concerned with symbolic acts of resistance that re-affirmed Catalan identity— hanging senyeras (Catalan flags), spray-painting nationalist slogans, etc.—and more interested in acquiring weapons and explosives for the purpose of direct attacks against the Spanish state.287

Crippling, state-sanctioned retaliation led to a significant restructuring of their ranks, and a merger with the radical PSUC-offshoot Izquierda Revolucionaria (Revolutionary Left) in 1974 pushed the

283Manté, Front d’Alliberament Català: Sabotatges per la independència (1966-1977), 11. 284Jordi Vera, La lluita armada als Països Catalans: Història del FAC (Sant Boi de Llobregat: Edicions Lluita, 1985), 12. 285As Manté (2009) points out, even just in the context of ethnic groups in Spain, the Basque ETA and Galician UPG faced similar dilemmas. 286Vera, La lluita armada als Països Catalans: Història del FAC, 11. 287Enric Ucelay-Da Cal, Breve historia del separatismo catalàn (Barcelona: Ediciones B, 2018). 119 organization further in the direction of insurgent Marxism-Leninism.288 From that point onwards,

99% of FAC belonged to the working class, with approximately half of their members being

Spanish speakers.289

The few studies that reference FAC point out their struggle to attract recruits, but the reason for this is not immediately apparent.290 Following a wave of arrests in 1972, FAC attempted to drum up support for their imprisoned and tortured militants, just as the Basque ETA had done during the Burgos trial. A flyer calling for a demonstration of solidarity for their militants describes

FAC as “an organization of young Catalans” whose objectives included independence for the

Països Catalans and the installation of socialism.291 Their targets were “the forces of repression and Francoist institutions”, including government offices and Guardia Civil barracks, infrastructure (power stations, railways), national media outlets and banks.292 However, the response to their appeals was tepid. Unlike ETA, FAC did not receive the same attention domestically or internationally, nor did their attempt at a campaign of solidarity yield a spike in militant recruitment.293 Vera (1985) references 3 rallies of 500-1,000 attendees, whom he describes as members of workers’ commissions and people “carrying red flags”.294 Evidently, their message resonated most with the predominantly Spanish-speaking working class.

In the absence of documentation from the early years of FAC, it is difficult to characterize their intended audience with any degree of precision. That said, at the aforementioned support rallies, FAC militants distributed pamphlets in Spanish as well as Català, suggesting that the

288Manté, Front d’Alliberament Català: Sabotatges per la independència (1966-1977), 11. 289Vera, La lluita armada als Països Catalans: Història del FAC, 149. 290Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 186; De la Calle, Nationalist Violence in Postwar Europe, 93. 291Vera, La lluita armada als Països Catalans: Història del FAC, 20-21. 292Ibid., 15-16, 20-21. 293Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 185-186. 294Vera, La lluita armada als Països Catalans: Història del FAC, 22-23. 120 organization was open to the idea of recruiting immigrants. Moreover, it appears that FAC used

Spanish with some regularity. Vera (1985) recalls a critique of the organization by the clandestine newsletter Avui (Today), which was associated with Pujol and his supporters.295 In a 1973 issue, the editorial staff of Avui expressed their reservations over FAC using Marxist-Leninist terminology, and speculated that this “sudden ideological turn” was the result of manipulation by a Spanish organization with similar views.296 Avui cited the FAC publication, Catalunya Roja (Red

Catalonia), which incorporated articles in Spanish as evidence of a departure from their original mission.297

In response, FAC dismissed the critique, arguing that it came from an ill-informed bourgeoise organization that was itself under outside influence. FAC did not deny the claims regarding their use of Spanish, and instead pointed the finger at political parties with similar practices.298 Considering the predominance of Català in Catalan circles and its symbolic weight under Francoism, the decision to use Spanish in their organizational discourse and appeals implies that the frame of identity employed by FAC did not hinge on Catalan language proficiency.

That same year, FAC held an assembly and settled on a political platform. The resulting statement listed 7 key points, including their intent to “liberate Catalonia from the fascist yoke” and reinstate “the statute” (referring to Catalan autonomy), so that the “people of Catalonia” could practice self-determination “until separation”.299 To achieve this, FAC would engage in armed struggle and prepare for a mass insurrection, one that would destroy the apparatus of the Spanish

295Not to be confused with the daily newspaper by the same name, founded in 1976. On the subject of newsletter Avui, see: Joan Crexell, “Avui, Servei d’Informació Català, 1972-1976,” Capçalera 4 (1989). 296Vera, La lluita armada als Països Catalans: Història del FAC, 78-79. 297Ibid. 298Ibid., 79-81. 299Originally published in Catalunya Roja in October 1973. See: Front d’Alliberament Català, “Programa actual,” Enciclopèdia del marxisme, accessed 10 May 2020. https://www.marxists.org/catala/enciclopedia/people/f/fac.htm 121 state in Catalonia and bring about the “national emancipation of the Catalan people”.300 The document also denounced the Catalan bourgeoise for their failure to establish a Catalan state, as their interests ran counter to those of “the Catalan national group”.301

In addition to their socialist and Catalanist goals, FAC attempted to articulate their views on Catalan identity. The third point in their statement referred to “all those who live and work in

Catalonia… and consider it their home” as Catalans.302 At first glance, this definition of Catalan- ness appears nearly identical to the one advanced by Pujol, but the context is starkly different.

While Pujol believed in the importance of integrating immigrants through language, FAC did not mention Català at all. However, the organization did make several references to cultural oppression.

Also in the statement, FAC asserted that “the popular classes are the guardians of national identity, of a certain way of life”, seemingly contradicting their own definition of group membership. How could they claim that anyone who lived and worked in Catalonia was a Catalan and express concern about protecting a traditional lifestyle, all in the same breath? The frame of identity that emerges from the statement reflects some confusion, likely born out of their attempts to reconcile existing notions of ethnic identity (and Catalan identity in particular) with the need to accommodate the Spanish-speaking proletariat in Catalonia, as FAC purported to represent both

“the working class” and “the national group”.303 Meanwhile, Català was left by the wayside.

In order to lay the groundwork for an armed insurrection by the masses, FAC outlined four categories of activity: (1) “actions that complement and support the struggle”, which entailed

“displacing” non-violent organizations, so that the masses could not turn to them, (2) “armed

300Front d’Alliberament Català, “Programa actual.” 301Ibid. 302Ibid. 303Ibid. 122 propaganda”, or symbolic acts designed to spread their message, such as blasting monuments and occupying radio stations, (3) psychological warfare aimed at demoralizing the enemy, and (4)

“self-supply actions” to sustain their operations: obtaining weapons, expropriating money, etc.304

No category explicitly included convincing fellow Catalans that the Francoist state posed an existential threat to them, but perhaps to the militants of FAC, this seemed obvious. That said, the first category was aimed at creating a situation wherein the Catalan public had no other means of contesting the state, which FAC believed would increase their “revolutionary potential”.305 In other words, FAC pushed their target audience to support violence not by cultivating threat perceptions, but by establishing themselves and their pursuit of armed struggle as the only bulwarks against the repressive Spanish state. As the previous sections in this chapter make clear, this was not true of the Catalans, many of whom took part in other forms of contestation.

With this strategy in mind, FAC positioned themselves against other Catalanist organizations, accusing even the revolutionary leftists among them of aligning with Spain and the bourgeoise.306 According to Vera (1985), FAC refused to join the Assemblea de Catalunya or coordinate efforts with PSAN-P, a radical split-off of Partit Socialista d'Alliberament Nacional

(Socialist Party of National Liberation) modeled after the Provisional IRA. FAC also criticized the

PSUC for their reluctance to join forces and push for a socialist revolution of national liberation following the death of Franco.307

Antagonizing their fellow Catalanists did not have the desired effect of attracting masses of supporters, however. In 1974, a beleaguered FAC merged with Izquierda Revolucionaria, an organization of staunch communists who, at least initially, associated Catalan-ness with the

304Front d’Alliberament Català, “Programa actual.” 305Ibid. 306Vera, La lluita armada als Països Catalans: Història del FAC, 14. 307Ibid. 123 bourgeoise and considered Spanish to be the true language of the proletariat.308 This move tipped the scale in favor of the struggle for socialism, of which Catalan independence was a by-product.309

In 1977, amidst the democratic transition, FAC disbanded.

As previously stated, the literature on Catalanism rarely mentions FAC, owing to the limited impact of the organization. The few sources that do discus it offer different reasons for its failure. De la Calle (2015) suggests that the Spanish state was particularly effective at repressing

FAC, but a quick comparison to ETA clarifies that the Catalan organization simply could not recover at the same rate as its Basque counterpart.310 Díez Medrano (1995) points to a “chronic shortage of militants in Catalonia” and the lack of popular support to help fill their ranks.311 Vera

(1985) agrees, testifying to the absence of a coherent vision and overall ‘immaturity’ of the organization.312 However, these are not causes so much as symptoms of the failure to mobilize.

The inability to grow a movement by attracting recruits and supporters to replace those who are imprisoned is indicative of the limited appeal of FAC. In other words, the phenomena cited by the literature show that the organization could not capture the attention of the Catalan public.

One explanation for the lackluster response to FAC is that their frame of identity did not resonate with fellow Catalans, as it excluded Català in order to appeal to Spanish-speaking immigrants. Based on the contents of their publications, FAC failed to affirm the significance of this central component of Catalan identity and the lived experiences of group members. The marginalization of language, paired with their repudiation of the Catalan bourgeoise and the

Assemblea de Catalunya, likely alienated many Catalans. While FAC did not explicitly cultivate

308Vera, La lluita armada als Països Catalans: Història del FAC, 28. 309Manté, Front d’Alliberament Català: Sabotatges per la independència (1966-1977), 11. 310De la Calle, Nationalist Violence in Postwar Europe, 93. 311Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 185-186. 312Vera, La lluita armada als Països Catalans: Història del FAC, 145. 124 a perception of existential threat, their efforts to undermine other Catalanists and promote violence as the only means of contestation were ultimately unsuccessful. In reality, the Catalan public seemed aware of their alternatives. Other organizations that pursued similar goals through non- violence—an end to the dictatorship, autonomy for Catalonia, even socialism—amassed considerable support, which suggests that the Catalans rejected FAC not for their agenda, but for advocating violence. In order to ascertain whether the problem lies in their language-peripheral identity framing or violent strategy, it is necessary to examine another attempt at mobilization in the same context.

5.5 Terra Lliure (1979-1995)

Of the few Catalanist organizations advocating violence, Terra Lliure (Free Land) was the most prolific. Over the course of its 16-year existence, Terra Lliure militants carried out approximately 200 atemptats (attacks), primarily bombings and other destructive acts, against a variety of Spanish public entities in Catalonia and occasionally Valencia.313 They were able to correct for some of the mistakes of their predecessor organizations, including by advancing a frame of Catalan identity anchored firmly in language. Still, Terra Lliure had “relatively null social effect”.314 Their failure to attract a significant following contrasts starkly with the success of contemporaneous non-violent organizations whose primary focus was to champion Català.

Recognizing the limited of potential for violent mobilization among the Catalans, Terra Lliure

313Estimates of the number of atemptats vary—according to Ucelay-Da Cal (2018) there were somewhere between 80-196, while Muro and Vall-Llosera (2016) count over 200. See: Ucelay-Da Cal, Breve historia del separatismo catalàn; Diego Muro and Simon Vall-Llosera, “¿Cuándo fracasa el terrorismo? El papel de la política antiterrorista, la fragmentación organizativa y los costes individuales en el final de Terra Lliure,” Revista Española de Ciencia Política 40 (2016). 314Ucelay-Da Cal, Breve historia del separatismo catalàn. 125 militants gradually renounced the armed struggle, leading to the dissolution of the organization in

1995.315

First, it should be noted that Terra Lliure emerged under considerably different circumstances than FAC and their counterparts in the Basque Country and Galicia. The organization first appeared on the scene in 1979, when Spain was in the throes of the democratic transition. After Franco died, the Catalanist movement was split between “reforma” and “ruptura”: supporting the reform of the Spanish political system, or breaking with it entirely.316 Radical independist organizations saw reform as a continuation of Francoism and its repressive structures.

Initially, they believed that unitary platforms like Assemblea de Catalunya could successfully advocate for rupture; however, the Assemblea dissolved in 1977, ahead of the general elections. In

1978, a new Spanish constitution came into effect. Its limited concessions to Catalonia, paired with the denial of amnesty to a number of Catalan militants, reinvigorated the call for armed struggle.317

Terra Lliure evolved from the aforementioned radical independists, namely PSAN-P.

Though they were no longer subject to Francoist repression, their militants believed Spain to be an occupying force in Catalonia. Additionally, like many organizations formed during this period, their ideological influences included Marxism.318 Terra Lliure set out to engage in “armed propaganda”, relying on symbolic (usually non-lethal) violence to “energize” a broader movement for Catalan independence.319 Predictably, the Spanish state did not tolerate campaigns of this nature. The early years of democracy coincided with the peak of ETA violence, which led to the

315Àngels Piñol, “Terra Lliure renuncia a la violencia y anuncia que sus militantes ingresarán en Esquerra Republicana,” El País, 5 July 1991. 316Carles Sastre et al., Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, trans. Ramon Pelegrí (Tafalla: Txalaparta, 2013), 45-47. 317In October 1977, the Amnesty Law facilitated the release of political prisoners. A month later, the Spanish state denied amnesty to a number of ÈPOCA militants whose detention preceded the passage of the law. See: Ibid., 47-52. 318Muro and Vall-Llosera, “¿Cuándo fracasa el terrorismo? El papel de la política antiterrorista, la fragmentación organizativa y los costes individuales en el final de Terra Lliure.” 319Sastre et al. Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, 83-88, 228. 126 adoption of several anti-terrorist initiatives. As a result, Terra Lliure militants were often subject to repression, and attempted to use their predicament to drum up support for their cause. Whatever solidarity the organization was able to elicit from the Catalan public was soon overshadowed by disapproval of their strategy. While the independist message became more widely accepted over time, their violent means did not.

Early on, Terra Lliure displayed a similar incompetence to FAC. Their first operation, a robbery of the Pujol-affiliated Banca Catalana (Catalan Bank), not only failed but also resulted in the death of one of the militants in a confrontation with police. A few months later, another Terra

Lliure militant died by attempting to plant explosives and accidentally detonating himself. The

Spanish authorities detained several of his accomplices, while the rest of the fledging organization went deeper underground.320 The following year was one of reflection and restructuring. During this period, Terra Lliure absorbed militants from ÈPOCA, or Exèrcit Popular Català (Catalan

People’s Army), an ultra-clandestine paramilitary organization that operated throughout the 1970s in anticipation of a war of national liberation that never materialized.321 The latter had more experience handling weapons and employing appropriate security measures. Additionally, the organization adopted a structure of compartmentalized commandos to minimize the impact of state-sanctioned repression, and developed a centralized archive of relevant political materials.322

In 1980, after a year of inactivity, Terra Lliure began their steady stream of attacks.

Like FAC, Terra Lliure targeted Spanish firms and infrastructure, including Guardia Civil and military installations, power companies and stations, tax collection offices, etc.323 However,

320Jaume Fernàndez i Calvet, Terra Lliure (1979-1985) (Barcelona: El Llamp, 1986). 321Sastre et al., Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, 39-41. 322Ibid., 58-60. 323Terra Lliure, “Cronologia d’accions armades de Terra Lliure,” in Parla Terra Lliure: Els documents de l’organització armada catalana, ed. Ramon Usall i Santa (Lleida: Edicions El Jonc, 2000), 263-273. 127 unlike its predecessor, the organization was unequivocal about its support for Català. In one of their earliest operations, Terra Lliure militants planted explosives at the Barcelona offices of the

Ministerio de Educación y Ciencia (Department of Education and Science), the government body in charge of allocating teaching positions. Their reasoning was that the Ministerio enacted policies that disadvantaged Catalan teachers and limited the availability of schooling in Català.324

More famously, in May 1981, a Terra Lliure commando kidnapped a secondary school

Spanish teacher and cultural activist by the name of Federico Jiménez Losantos. A few months prior, Jiménez Losantos had helped produce the Manifest dels 2300 (Manifesto of 2,300), a document decrying the Generalitat’s efforts at linguistic normalization. Its 2,300 signatories opposed the ‘Catalanization’ of schools and other public spaces in Catalonia at the expense of

Spanish speakers.325 Later, Jiménez Losantos would tell El País that his abductors spoke Català, interspersed with a few words in Spanish. After verifying his identity, they shot Jiménez Losantos above the knee.326 Terra Lliure took responsibility for the attack, describing it as “retaliation for activities against the Catalan language”.327

The responses to Manifest dels 2300 and the kneecapping of Jiménez Losantos were mixed.

On the one hand, the Generalitat and the major Catalan political parties denounced the actions of

Terra Lliure.328 On the other hand, the Catalan public vehemently rejected the claim that Spanish- speakers were discriminated against. Catalan newspapers received countless letters to the editor criticizing the Manifest, and in March, a gathering at the University of Barcelona produced a counter-declaration “in defense of the Catalan language, culture, and nation”.329 Over 1,300

324Sastre et al., Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, 73. 325Ucelay-Da Cal, Breve historia del separatismo catalàn. 326Enric Canals, “El profesor Jiménez Losantos, herido en un atentado,” El País, 21 May 1981. 327Terra Lliure, “Cronologia d’accions armades de Terra Lliure,” 263. 328“Jiménez Losantos va ser agredit per Terra Lliure,” Avui, 22 May 1981. 329“Declaració en defensa de la llengua, la cultura i la nació,” Avui, 19 March 1981. 128

Catalan institutions and voluntary associations pledged their support for the initiative.330 The contents of the declaration served as the basis for a new organization, Crida a la Solidaritat (Call for Solidarity). In June of 1981, Crida held a mass rally at the Camp Nou football stadium, under the slogan “Som una nació” (We are a Nation).331 The rally attracted an estimated 100,000 people.332 For several years after the event, Crida used Catalan holidays as occasions for non- violent protest in favor of Catalanization and against Spanish centralization, including legislation aimed at bilingualism and limiting Catalan autonomy.333

Terra Lliure made their first public appearance at Camp Nou, where they distributed flyers emblazoned with their own “Crida” (Call). The document identified Terra Lliure as a revolutionary organization fighting for the independence of the Països Catalans, and called on “all the Catalans” to combat the systemic destruction of their nation.334 Among their specific grievances were the separation of the Països Catalans into regions “with different languages”

(referring to Català, Valencian, etc.) that were then forced to communicate with one another in

Spanish, and the division of the poble treballador català (Catalan working people) into two communities at odds with one another.335 The document did not specify the basis for this division, though one might reasonably assume it was referring to working-class Catalans and Spanish speakers. Other concerns included the elimination of traditional sectors of Catalan production, ecological destruction, and the militarization of Catalan society through state-sanctioned repression. In light of these, Terra Lliure outlined several lines of action, such as defending the

330Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 146-147. 331Sastre et al., Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, 84-85. 332Ibid. 333Laitin, “Linguistic Revival: Politics and Culture in Catalonia.”; Francesc Valls, “La Crida pide que el catalán la única lengua oficial en Cataluña,” El País, 28 June 1985. 334Terra Lliure, “Crida de Terra Lliure,” in Parla Terra Lliure: Els documents de l’organització armada catalana, ed. Ramon Usall i Santa (Lleida: Edicions El Jonc, 2000), 35-36. 335Ibid. 129 land/territory, language, and national sovereignty from espanyolistas and anti-nationalists, as well as protecting the interests of workers.336 The document concluded with a declaration of intent to counteract “the forces of occupation” and the diffusion of espanyolisme by taking up arms.337

In a 1982 letter addressing the aforementioned Poble Treballador Català (now capitalized, perhaps to mimic ETA), imprisoned Terra Lliure militants reiterated the importance of their mission. “Ever since the French and Spanish states conquered the Països Catalans, we have walked towards our destruction as a people”.338 The letter went on to describe Catalonia as “subject to continued aggression from the Spanish and French oligarchies and the regional bourgeoise, that endanger everything that constitutes our national heritage: land, work, language, customs. Not only do they call into question our national identity, but also our survival as [the] people who [make up] Catalan society”.339 The authors reasoned that, under a state of military occupation and exploitation of the working class, national and class liberation (which they believed were inextricable from one another) could only be achieved through armed struggle. They argued that

Terra Lliure was the culmination of an independist tradition embodied by their predecessor organizations, such as Estat Català, FAC, and ÈPOCA, whose efforts pushed the Catalan political parties and public to consider independence as a viable strategy. Armed propaganda was therefore necessary to inspire a mass movement in support of reunification, independence, and socialism for the Països Catalans.340

Terra Lliure did not produce a formal declaration of principles till January 1984, when the organization convened for its second assembly.341 The resulting document elaborated on many of

336Terra Lliure, “Crida de Terra Lliure.” 337Ibid. 338Terra Lliure, “Terra Lliure al Poble Treballador Català,” in Parla Terra Lliure: Els documents de l’organització armada catalana, ed. Ramon Usall i Santa (Lleida: Edicions El Jonc, 2000), 37-38. 339Ibid. 340Ibid. 341Sastre et al., Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, 108. 130 the points previously established and used similar terminology, highlighting the threat to the

Catalans. In a section titled “The Oppression of the Països Catalans”, the authors lamented the

“attempted annihilation of the Catalan nation” via the loss of national consciousness and its replacement with the hegemonic culture of the Spanish state.342 They detailed the efforts of the

Francoist state to promote linguistic regionalism among the Països Catalans, and explained that the disappearance of Català from public use meant that “Catalan culture was reduced to catacombs”.343 Further on in the document, the authors listed the defense of Catalan language and culture against “attempts at cultural and national genocide” as one of the principal battlefronts for

Terra Lliure.344 In practice, this entailed combatting the prevalence of Spanish in Catalonia. “We do not accept the existence of two communities or two languages as a perpetual fact, as this can only lead to the disappearance of our language and our community and to an artificial division of our working people”.345

These documents—published exclusively in Català—confirm the intent behind the attacks on the Ministerio de Educación y Ciencia and Jiménez Losantos, as well as later attempts to disrupt the operations of local studios and infrastructure belonging to TVE, the state-owned Spanish language broadcasting company.346 Terra Lliure were concerned with the state of Català, not as a marginal issue but as a prerequisite to the survival of the Catalans. Interestingly, on the subject of immigrants in Catalonia, they were rarely explicit. The declaration of principles briefly referred to working-class Spanish-speakers as unwitting, passive promoters of the dominant culture owing to

342Terra Lliure, “Declaració de Principis,” in Parla Terra Lliure: Els documents de l’organització armada catalana, ed. Ramon Usall i Santa (Lleida: Edicions El Jonc, 2000), 39-61. 343Ibid. 344Ibid. 345Ibid. 346Attacks on TVE would last through 1989. See: Terra Lliure, “Cronologia d’accions armades de Terra Lliure,” 263-273. 131 their “lack of integration”.347 At the same time, the conversation surrounding the poble treballador català implied that immigrants were to be included in its definition if they embraced the Catalan language. This, paired with their rejection of bilingualism, reinforces Terra Lliure’s commitment to Català, which remained consistent for the duration of their existence as an organization. The frame of Catalan identity that emerges from their rhetoric is one firmly rooted in linguistic distinction, and in line with the experience of a majority of Catalans.

In addition to tying the fate of Català to that of the Catalans, Terra Lliure used alarmist rhetoric to enhance their appeals. Their documents are littered with references to the impending demise of Catalan culture at the hands of the Spanish state. These were intended to cultivate fear for the future of the Catalans as a people, and create a sense of urgency that would compel them to pursue Catalan independence by any means necessary. To clarify, Terra Lliure argued that the state posed a threat to Catalan-ness and put Catalans at risk of losing an essential component of their identity, not to mention their community. However, the organization did not—and could not—claim that Spain threatened Catalan lives. Under Franco, when the state deliberately targeted speakers of Català, Catalans were able to adapt to the restrictions by switching to Spanish in public and formal settings, while continuing to use their native language in private and to pass it on from one generation to the next. Presumably, even a ‘reformed’ Spain, equipped (as the militants of

Terra Lliure believed) with the same repressive capabilities as the dictatorship from which it sprung, did not present a mortal danger to the Catalans. The appeals by Terra Lliure thus exemplify the difficulty of cultivating existential threat perceptions in the context of an ethnic group defined by its language.

347Terra Lliure, “Declaració de Principis,” 44. 132

In 1984, Terra Lliure established a political front for Catalan independence, the Movement for the Defense of the Land, or Moviment de Defensa de la Terra (MDT).348 Under the MDT umbrella were the Committees of Solidarity with the Catalan Patriots, or Comitès de Solidaritat amb els Patriotes Catalans (CSPC), whose function was to generate public support for detained and imprisoned Terra Lliure militants. A detailed timeline by former militant Jaume Fernàndez i

Calvet (1986) reveals that attendance at solidarity demonstrations organized by CSPC typically ranged from several hundred to 2,000.349 Their moderate success can be attributed to public disapproval of the Spanish authorities, as the latter would frequently resort to torturing detainees.

Another reason that Terra Lliure managed to elicit a degree of sympathy (or at least avoid derision) was that their atemptats rarely resulted in fatalities.350 This changed, however, following a deadly

ETA attack in Catalonia, as well as the accidental killing of a civilian by Terra Lliure.

In June of 1987, an ETA commando detonated a car bomb in the parking garage of a

Hipercor commercial center in Barcelona. The explosion killed 21 shoppers and injured an additional 45.351 The unprecedented scale of the attack—an all-time record for ETA—sparked immense public outrage, forcing the Basque organization to apologize. A heavily advertised CSPC demonstration that had been scheduled for the day of the bombing was promptly cancelled for fear of backlash.352 Three days later, on June 22nd, an estimated 750,000 people gathered in Barcelona to march against terrorism.353 For their part, Terra Lliure joined the chorus of voices denouncing

ETA, but did not slow down their string of near-weekly atemptats. On June 25th, Terra Lliure wounded several civilians and state police officers in an attack on a tax collection office in

348Sastre et al., Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, 106-108. 349Fernàndez i Calvet, Terra Lliure (1979-1985). 350The few fatalities were almost exclusively militants of Terra Lliure killed in action, often by accident. 351Florencio Domínguez, ETA en Cataluña (Madrid: Ediciones Temas de Hoy, 2005), 83-85. 352Sastre et al., Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, 169. 353“Unos 750,000 ciudadanos expresan en la calle su indignación contra ETA,” La Vanguardia, 23 June 1987. 133

Igualada.354 Then in September, Terra Lliure targeted a courthouse in Les Borges Blanques. The militants in charge of the operation claimed to have planted their explosives deep in the building, so as to minimize the risk to passersby. The force of the blast caused the collapse of a lateral wall, resulting in the death of a 62-year-old woman who lived in an adjacent building.355 Terra Lliure issued a statement “deeply lamenting” the outcome of the attack, but clarified that the tragedy could have been averted had Catalonia been free.356 “Things like this happen in a national liberation struggle, despite attempts to avoid it”, the organization concluded.357

Looking back on the events years later, former Terra Lliure militants expressed the belief that 1987 marked a turning point in their trajectory.358 First, there was the negative response to the deaths of civilians. Prior to the Hipercor bombing, some Catalanists had voiced their admiration for ETA, and their affiliated political party Herri Batasuna (HB) garnered more votes in Catalonia than any other region outside of the Basque Country. By 1989, HB lost approximately 60% of their

Catalan support.359 Terra Lliure were also caught in the crosshairs as a result of their association with ETA360. After all, the two organizations shared an ideological foundation, not to mention a common enemy. The Basques had even helped train and arm Terra Lliure militants in their early years.361 Most importantly, they were connected in the eyes of the public. The tragic outcomes of their attacks and their timing overshadowed the strategic differences between them. So, when ETA claimed that they had expected the Hipercor to have been evacuated prior to the bombing, assurances by Terra Lliure that, in their own operations, they made an effort to prevent civilian

354Xavier Gual, “Terra Lliure reivindica l’atemptat d’Igualada,” Avui, 26 June 1987. 355Sastre et al., Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, 149-150. 356Terra Lliure, “Un accident lamentable,” in Parla Terra Lliure: Els documents de l’organització armada catalana, ed. Ramon Usall i Santa (Lleida: Edicions El Jonc, 2000), 130-132. 357Ibid. 358Sastre et al., Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, 150. 359Enric Company, “La bomba que creó el vacio en torno a ETA,” El País, 21 February 1993. 360Sastre et al., Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, 168. 361Domínguez, ETA en Cataluña, 22-24. 134 casualties rang understandably hollow. The sense of existential threat that Terra Lliure had worked to cultivate among the Catalans was replaced with substantiated fears of armed organizations operating in Catalonia.

Even as the immediate response to the attacks subsided, it became clear that Terra Lliure lacked public support, which eroded their ability to carry out operations. In a biography of the organization, former militants Carles Sastre, Carles Benítez, Pep Musté, and Joan Rocamora

(2013) recall the difficulty of defending an armed strategy “in a climate of rejection”.362 They contend that the Spanish media stoked the flames when it condemned the use of violence by anyone other than the state.363 A 1993 op-ed in El País illustrates this perfectly, alluding to Terra Lliure as an organization with a project “stigmatized by horror”.364 Additionally, in interviews with former militants, Muro and Vall-Llosera (2016) find that many had a hard time maintaining their commitment to a violent strategy considering “the absence of future horizons in the context of a

Catalan society that rejected any type of armed struggle in its name”.365 Some militants reported feeling increasingly alienated from the group which they claimed to represent. “[Our] militancy no longer made sense to me,” admitted Sastre.366

To say that low morale was the only problem faced by Terra Lliure would be painting an incomplete picture. In addition to stigma and social isolation, the organization grappled with state repression, ideological confusion and in-fighting, scarce funding, and the sheer ineptitude of its own militants, who were prone to fatal accidents when setting up explosives.367 In 1986, MDT

362Sastre et al., Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, 150. 363Ibid., 169-170. 364Company, “La bomba que creó el vacio en torno a ETA.” 365Muro and Vall-Llosera, “¿Cuándo fracasa el terrorismo? El papel de la política antiterrorista, la fragmentación organizativa y los costes individuales en el final de Terra Lliure.” 366Ibid. 367Ibid.; Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 169. 135 splintered along party lines. Their disagreements gradually permeated Terra Lliure, culminating in a rupture between the third and fourth assemblies (1988-1989). The two factions differed in their approached to the armed struggle going forward.368Around the same time, the left-leaning political party ERC adopted an explicitly independist platform. Under the leadership of Àngel

Colom, ERC sought to facilitate the integration of Terra Lliure militants into legitimate politics.369

The process began in 1991. Those who refused to give up the fight suffered through a crippling wave of arrests in 1992, as Spain prepared to host the Summer Olympics in Barcelona.370 What remained of Terra Lliure finally dissolved in 1995.

Similarly to FAC, many of the challenges faced by Terra Lliure can be traced back to the absence of popular support for violence. There is no denying that Terra Lliure militants were subject to significant repression, considering that the Spanish state had nearly a decade of experience dealing with ETA under its belt. However, in the Basque case, each sweeping measure against ETA attracted scores of new volunteers, while Terra Lliure struggled to maintain their ranks owing to militant ‘burnout’.371 For the latter, the costs associated with participation in armed propaganda increased the rate of attrition.372 Another testament to the short supply of militants is the admission by Sastre et al. (2013) that, during periods of intense activity, recruits had to be trained quickly and without proper regard for safety protocols.373 As a result, Terra Lliure killed more of their own militants than they did their targets. In 1995, the organization listed “depletion of human resources” as one of two reasons it had to dissolve.374 Ultimately, Terra Lliure could not

368Sastre et al., Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, 138-145, 159. 369Ibid., 173-174. 370Also known as ‘Operación Garzón’. 371Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 186. 372Sastre et al., Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, 123. 373Ibid., 155. 374Terra Lliure-III Assemblea, “Manifest de Terra Lliure,” in Parla Terra Lliure: Els documents de l’organització armada catalana, ed. Ramon Usall i Santa (Lleida: Edicions El Jonc, 2000), 257-259. 136

attract recruits in sufficient numbers to lessen the impact of repressive measures and technical

inexperience on its size and operational capacity, which suggests that its appeal was limited.

In addition to their reluctance to participate in operations, members of the Catalan public

were not eager to fund Terra Lliure, either. Former militant Pep Musté attested to their “financing

difficulties”, explaining that the organization was able to get money by robbing banks, but at times,

the militants had to “reach into [their] own pockets” to execute their atemptats.375 One possible

explanation for the lack of moral and material support for Terra Lliure is a public disinterest in

their call for an independent and socialist Catalonia. However, by 1991, the percentage of the

Catalan population in favor of independence was comparable to that of the Basque Country.376

Both Crida a la Solidaritat and ERC came to embrace independence as a goal.377 The latter

doubled its number of votes and seats in the Catalan Parliament (the legislative body of the

Generalitat) with Colom and his plans for militant integration at the helm.378 As for the objective

of socialism, left-wing parties across Spain were fairly popular. The Spanish Socialist Workers’

Party PSOE controlled the Spanish Cortes from 1982 to 1996, and its Catalan affiliate PSC-PSOE

served as the main opposition party in Catalonia during the same period.379 Overall, the agenda

pursued by Terra Lliure was a radical extension of prevalent political attitudes in Catalonia.

Therefore, it does not offer a compelling explanation for their rejection by the Catalan public.

What distinguished Terra Lliure from initiatives with similar goals that did gain traction was their willingness to use violence. In 1991, the faction of Terra Lliure that brokered a deal with

375Musté quoted in Muro and Vall-Llosera, “¿Cuándo fracasa el terrorismo? El papel de la política antiterrorista, la fragmentación organizativa y los costes individuales en el final de Terra Lliure.” 376Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 174-176. 377Dowling, Catalonia Since the Spanish Civil War: Reconstructing the Nation, 153. 378De la Calle, Nationalist Violence in Postwar Europe, 95. 379Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 172-173. 137

ERC announced a “unilateral and indefinite truce”.380 They noted in their official statement that armed struggle was one of many means to achieve Catalan independence. “What is appropriate is to know how to use each form of struggle at the right time, without dogmatizing [it], according to each circumstance and the temperament of the people themselves”, they added, alluding to the negative responses to their operations.381 Similarly, in their 1995 dissolution notice, the remaining militants insisted that Terra Lliure had helped galvanize the movement in support of Catalan independence, but admitted that their strategy of armed propaganda had been “exhausted”.382 Still, they refused to acknowledge it as illegitimate, and suggested that “there will be other stages of the struggle for independence that will require the organized use of revolutionary violence”.383 For the time being, they encouraged their militants to work at “amplifying [their] social base”.384

As previously mentioned, Sastre et al. (2013) reflected on the events of 1987 with the belief

that ETA had soured public attitudes towards armed struggle, leaving Terra Lliure to flounder as

a result. While the death toll of the Hipercor bombing certainly helped bring the issue to the fore,

prior experiences detailed in this chapter show that Catalonia and its people were not particularly

hospitable to violent ethnic organizations at any point—a reality that the former militants may

have been reluctant to acknowledge. It seems that, rather than turning the tide on Terra Lliure,

who were not particularly successful even before they were the targets of outright backlash, the

aforementioned events crystallized opinions surrounding the use of armed struggle, and made clear

to the organization that public opinion was not on their side. Soon thereafter, they succumbed to

380Terra Lliure-IV Assemblea, “Davant el procés d’unitat europea, l’opció democràtica cap a la independència,” in Parla Terra Lliure: Els documents de l’organització armada catalana, ed. Ramon Usall i Santa (Lleida: Edicions El Jonc, 2000), 229-234. 381Ibid. 382Terra Lliure-III Assemblea, “Manifest de Terra Lliure.” 383Ibid. 384Ibid. 138 in-fighting over whether to escalate the use of violence or give it up altogether.385 This debate between the two factions of Terra Lliure reflects an awareness that their strategy of armed propaganda was at the root of their limited social impact and lack of mobilization success, even if in the moment, the militants could not agree on how to correct it.

An alternative explanation by De la Calle (2015) posits that, by the time Terra Lliure appeared on the scene, “the sociopolitical conditions were no longer so favorable to violence”.386

He attributes their failure to the gains of the democratic transition, namely the re-establishment of

Catalan autonomy in 1979. Organizations formed under the dictatorship could harness anti-

Francoist sentiment to gain support, but Terra Lliure did not have that option. De la Calle quotes an unnamed militant: “To begin something in a supposedly democratic context is much more difficult because many people will be against you. Many people that five years ago would have supported the fight are now against it”.387 While it is true that Terra Lliure faced different circumstances than ETA, the failure of their predecessors FAC (who operated at the same time as the Basque organization and with a remarkably similar agenda) suggests that violent Catalanists were thwarted by something other than bad timing. Additionally, as De la Calle himself points out, public support was sufficient to buoy “direct action, nonviolent nationalist organizations” that challenged the state even after the transition, such as Crida.388 Not so for the violent Terra Lliure.

5.6 Conclusion

The cases of FAC and Terra Lliure illustrate the predicament of violent organizations in language-centric linguistic groups, namely their diminished capacity for mobilization. FAC faced

385Sastre et al., Terra Lliure: Punto de partida (1979-1995) Una biografía autorizada, 156. 386De la Calle, Nationalist Violence in Postwar Europe, 94. 387Ibid., 95. 388Ibid., 96. 139 the added challenge of advancing a frame of Catalan identity that did not resonate with the target audience because it minimized the significance of their native language. Terra Lliure, on the other hand, championed Català from the very beginning; their agenda and operations generally followed public opinion, albeit to an extreme—the attack on Jiménez Losantos amidst backlash following the Manifest dels 2300 is one example of this. Still, the organization appeared to have little appeal.

Ultimately, advancing a resonant, language-centric identity frame did not translate to mobilization success for Terra Lliure.

Both of the aforementioned organizations failed because of their insistence on violent contestation. Involvement in violence presented risks that were unacceptable to most Catalans. Not only did FAC and Terra Lliure struggle to recruit and retain militants, but they had no significant base of support, and were openly criticized. Additionally, they struggled to articulate appeals that highlighted the need for violence, seeing as the Spanish state did not present a threat to Catalan lives. Repressive efforts targeting the Catalan language and identity were met with adaptation, considering that the majority of Catalans were proficient in Spanish and were able to use it as needed. At the same time, the Catalan public continued to use Català and pass it on to their children. Moreover, they supported non-violent organizations that advocated on their behalf. The success of organizations like Ómnium Cultural, Assemblea de Catalunya, and Crida a la

Solidaritat stands in stark contrast to the lackluster trajectories of FAC and Terra Lliure.

Many elements of this case support the theory of language adaptability. As expected, the centrality of language in Catalan identity shaped the demands of the group to center around accommodation for Català and its speakers. The agendas of Catalanist organizations on both ends of the Catalan political spectrum attest to this. It is nevertheless surprising that the Catalan language, a supposedly adaptable trait, managed to survive through years of dialectization and

140 other efforts to eliminate it as a marker of identity. The outcome in this case suggests that language may in fact be a ‘stickier’ trait than theorized.

141

Chapter 6. The Marginal Role of Euskara and the Rise of a Violent Basque ETA

To further examine the limitations of linguistic group mobilization, the following chapter considers the role of Euskara in Basque identity and its treatment by the armed organization

Euskadi ta Askatasuna (ETA) during the first three decades of their operations against the Spanish state. ETA’s violent campaign is an example of successful mobilization for violent contestation in the context of a language-peripheral linguistic group. Its relative popularity and longevity are matched by few other organizations in history. Early on, ETA pioneered the shift from a racial conception of Basqueness to one that placed language at its core. However, this language-centric identity frame did not reflect the changing demographics and linguistic repertoires of the Basque public. Euskara proved to be peripheral to Basque identity, leading ETA to abandon language in favor of a voluntaristic view of group membership, which coincided with the turn to violence and an uptick in support for the organization. The marginalization of language paved the way for ETA to challenge the state successfully using violent means.

As with other minority languages in Francoist Spain, Euskara was subject to intense repression. It is in this context that ETA emerged onto the scene in 1959—first as a culturally- oriented youth group, then as an alternative to the Basque government in exile, and finally, as a paramilitary organization through the transition to democracy. The chapter traces this trajectory, mapping instances of violent contestation by ETA and the public response to them against the diminishing role of language in their framing of Basque identity and appeals to co-ethnics.

To accomplish this, the chapter draws on reports of ETA activities in regional, national, and international media, as well as various publications by the organization—essays, pamphlets, letters, assembly minutes, press statements, and other records—translated from Spanish and

French for the purpose of this dissertation. The main source of primary materials is a twelve-tome

142 anthology titled “Documentos Y”, which contains thousands of ETA documents dated 1952-1972.

Other sources include news reports by El País, El Mundo, El Diario Vasco, Le Monde and other media outlets, along with secondary accounts of surveys taken in the Basque Country in the late

1970s and early 1980s.

Before delving into the evolution of ETA, their mobilizing rhetoric and attempts at contestation, the chapter offers a brief overview of the history of the Basque ethnic group, including the marginal role of language in Basque identity and the identity frames traditionally advanced by Basque nationalists. The remaining sections chronicle the rise of ETA, their initial ideology and conception of Basqueness, and the gradual changes in these as the organization grew and splintered, renegotiating their position on language in pursuit of greater resonance with the target audience. The chapter culminates with the turn to violence, ETA’s reframing of Basque identity to center around voluntarism and action, and the subsequent success of their violent mobilization against the Spanish state.

6.1 From Euskal Herria to Euskadi

The term ‘Basques’ refers to an ethnic group native to the Basque Country (Euskal Herria), a region in the north of Spain that extends across the border into France. The focus of this chapter is on the southern provinces—Álava, Biscay, Gipuzkoa, and Navarre—where over 90% of the group resides.389 Like the vast majority of the population of Spain, the Basques are overwhelmingly Catholic, as well as Caucasian. The group has a high concentration of members with type O blood, but the biological evidence is not sufficient to differentiate them from other

389Robert P. Clark, The Basques: The Franco Years and Beyond (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1979), 5. 143

European populations.390 Instead, the Basques are distinguished from other groups by their ancestral language, Euskara.

The origins of the Basques are frequently described as mysterious; conservative estimates place their ancestors in the Basque Country as early as 8,000 years ago.391 The mountainous topography of the region helped shield the group from cultural absorption through periods of

“incomplete and tentative” control by outside forces: the Romans, Visigoths, and Muslims.392

Another factor that contributed to their survival over time were the ‘fueros’, or foral laws. Fueros were agreements between provincial representatives and the Kings that ruled over them, stating that the latter would defer to local customs and authority and grant the population freedom from taxation and conscription.393 Similar arrangements were common throughout Western Europe during the Middle Ages, but the Basques were unique in that they were able to retain their privileges and political autonomy well into the modern era.394

However, Douglass and Zulaika (2007) argue, “the subsequent history of the Basque people is one of steady erosion of these ancient rights”.395 In 1876, the Spanish Cortes (legislative body) abolished the fueros. This move was poorly received in the Basque provinces, where support for traditional regionalism had been high. Shortly thereafter, rapid industrialization led to an unprecedented wave of immigration to the Basque provinces. The loss of autonomy paired with

390William Douglass and Joseba Zulaika, Basque Culture: Anthropological Perspectives (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 2007), 32-34. 391Payne, Basque Nationalism, 10-11. 392Clark, The Basques: The Franco Years and Beyond, 10-17. 393Ibid., 18-20; Payne, Basque Nationalism, 17. 394Payne, “Catalan and Basque Nationalism.” 395Douglass and Zulaika, Basque Culture: Anthropological Perspectives, 83-84. 144 an influx of foreigners fostered resentment in the group and laid the groundwork for the emergence of Basque nationalism.396

The key figure to shape Basque group consciousness at the turn of the 20th century was

Sabino Arana. A native of Biscay, Arana dedicated his life to the construction of a Basque national identity, complete with associated symbols and a designated political program. His contributions include the Basque national anthem, the Basque flag, and the neologism ‘Euskadi’ that would later become the official name for the Basque Autonomous Community.397 Most importantly, Arana offered his vision of a future for the Basques with the publication of “Bizkaya por su independencia” (Biscay for its independence), in which he emphasized the exceptionality of the group and called for the unification of the seven Basque provinces—including those under French rule.398 In service of the latter goal, Arana founded the Basque Nationalist Party, or Partido

Nacionalista Vasco (PNV), the first political party of its kind.399

Basque identity as envisioned by Arana was predicated on racial difference. He believed race to be the essence of a nation. Other distinguishing traits—a unique language and customs, in the Basque case—only served as further evidence that the group was racially distinct, and should remain so.400 In response to the growing population of immigrants in the Basque provinces, Arana argued that the preservation of an exclusive Basque culture was paramount. He considered race to be a reliable ethnic boundary, particularly when reinforced by the unintelligibility of Euskara to

396Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 44-48; Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 69-71; Payne, Basque Nationalism, 61-65. 397Sometimes spelled ‘Euzkadi’. See: Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 53-59. 398Clark, The Basques: The Franco Years and Beyond, 44-49. 399Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 75-80. 400A. S. Farwell, “Race, Language, and Basque Protohistory According to Sabino Arana,” Sancho el Sabio 30 (2009). 145

Spanish speakers.401 Practically speaking, Arana opposed intermarriage and limited membership in the PNV to those who could prove familial ties to other Basques.402 Finally, as a devout Catholic,

Arana was also adamant on protecting Basque society from secularization.403

Despite its growing popularity in the first two decades of the 20th century, the burgeoning

Basque nationalist movement was temporarily crippled by the dictatorship of Primo de Rivera

(1923-1930). During this period, the Spanish central authorities outlawed regionalist initiatives, and the PNV became a clandestine organization.404 The fall of the dictatorship gave way to the democratic Second Republic (1931-1939), granting the Basques another opportunity at self-rule.

While Catalonia was quick to assert its regional autonomy, the Basque Country did not achieve this status till a few months after the Civil War broke out in 1936.405

The outcome of the Civil War took a toll on the Basques, many of whom had fought on behalf of the Republic. Biscay and Gipuzkoa were declared “traitor provinces”, and hundreds of thousands of Basques fled the country.406 The subsequent years under Franco were characterized by brutal repression, as the new regime stripped minority groups of their autonomy, institutions, and cultural rights. In the Basque provinces, the latter amounted to a systematic erasure of all aspects of Basque identity: names were translated to Spanish in civil registries and documents, and the administrative record of Spain no longer recognized the Basques as a group.407 Additionally, the Francoist regime engaged in the physical persecution of Basque individuals through

401Javier Corcuera Atienza, The Origins, Ideology, and Organization of Basque Nationalism, 1876-1903 (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 2006), 246-247. 402Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 59-61. 403As a reminder, Catholicism did not set the Basques apart from the Spaniards who shared their faith, albeit not their piety. See: Ibid., 61-64. 404Clark, The Basques: The Franco Years and Beyond, 49-51. 405Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 83-89. 406Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 229. 407Clark, The Basques: The Franco Years and Beyond, 137; Gurutz Jáuregui Bereciartu, Ideologia y estrategia politica de ETA: Analisis de su evolucion entre 1959 y 1968 (Madrid: Siglo XXI de España, 1981), 206-208. 146 harassment, attacks, arbitrary imprisonment, and torture.408 After the war, the PNV, which had governed the briefly-autonomous community up until its dissolution, became the face of the

Basque government in exile.

This section gives a brief overview of the history of the Basques as a separate people, highlighting some factors that affected the development of its nationalist movement up until the rise of Francoism. Additionally, it introduces Arana and his original framing of Basque identity that centered on race, not language. The following section delves more deeply into the subject of

Euskara and its marginalization over time, and establishes the Basques as a language-peripheral group.

6.2 Euskara and Basque Identity

The history of the Basques is intertwined with that of Euskara. The origins of the language are similarly obscure; numerous attempts to link it to other languages have been unsuccessful, rendering Euskara a ‘language isolate’. Historically, language has served as the principal ethnic trait to set the Basques apart from other groups in their vicinity. In fact, the presence of Euskara in the Basque Country predates the spread of the Romance languages through the Iberian

Peninsula.409 Yet, in the years preceding the formation of ETA, the centrality of the language in

Basque identity diminished significantly, as reflected in low proficiency rates, a stunted cultural revival, and a nationalist leadership that did not prioritize Euskara in its conceptualization of

Basqueness.

Unlike Català and Galego, Euskara differs markedly from Spanish. Its structure and vocabulary do not resemble those of a Romance language, thereby minimizing the possibility of

408Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 225. 409Douglass and Zulaika, Basque Culture: Anthropological Perspectives, 41-42. 147 effective language transfer.410 Up until the 1960s, the Basque language was a collection of provincial dialects without a standard form.411 As a result, Euskara was less accessible for Spanish speakers than other minority languages. The lack of mutual intelligibility augmented tensions between erdaldunak (Spanish-speakers) and euskaldunak (Euskara-speakers) during periods of high-volume immigration to the Basque Country. However, the potential for conflict involving the two languages was overshadowed by a larger concern about the long-term survival of Euskara.

Not only did the immigrants struggle to learn it, but the Basques themselves faced pressure to assimilate to the politically, economically, and culturally dominant Spanish, which led to the marginalization of their ancestral language.

By the 19th century, the use of Euskara was already waning. Basque elites opted for

Spanish instead, precipitating a gradual decline of Euskara proficiency among the population of the Basque Country, particularly in urban centers—a trend that was magnified by late 1800s industrialization and subsequent immigration.412 The newcomers had few incentives to adopt

Euskara, as middle- and upper-class Basques were almost exclusively Spanish-speaking. They had come to associate the latter with modernity and class mobility.413 Additionally, the absence of

Euskara from formal education hindered its transmission to younger generations.414 The resulting state of affairs was a classic case of diglossia: while Spanish flourished as the public language,

Euskara was relegated to the private sphere, where its presence was gradually shrinking. Cultural initiatives to curb the loss of Euskara had little effect; organizations such as Nafarroako Euskal

410‘Language transfer’ refers to a phenomenon in second language acquisition wherein the learner applies elements from a language in which they are fluent to the one they are learning. If the languages follow similar rules, language transfer facilitates learning. This is not the case, however, if there are no common elements to draw on. 411Clark, The Basques: The Franco Years and Beyond, 148-149. 412Payne, “Catalan and Basque Nationalism.” 413Jacqueline Urla, Reclaiming Basque: Language, Nation, and Cultural Activism (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 2012), 30. 414Ibid., 29. 148

Elkargoa (The Euskara Association of Navarre) and Euskaltzaindia (Royal Academy of the

Basque Language) did not exert the popular influence of their Catalan counterparts, or possess their potential for political mobilization.415 Compared to the Catalan Renaixença, the Eusko

Pizkundea (Basque revival) was limited in scope, and failed to spur a significant resurgence of

Euskara.

Arana was keenly aware of the decline of Euskara. His own life story exemplifies the status of the language at the turn of the 20th century. Though he was born in Bilbao to a Basque family,

Arana grew up speaking Spanish at home, and the local schools did not offer instruction in Euskara.

In fact, it was not till he became a Basque nationalist that Arana decided to learn his ancestral language.416 His musings on Basque identity—published primarily in Spanish—reflect these experiences. “Euskara is fading away”, he wrote.417 Arana considered the language an essential and exclusive element of Basqueness, to be preserved from contamination by foreigners. He argued that low rates of proficiency in Euskara among the Basques were an unfortunate circumstance, but the prospect of Spaniards adopting the language was worse.418 For Arana,

Euskara was significant precisely because it served as a boundary between Basques and outsiders, and he spent considerable time trying to purify Euskara of Spanish influence.419 Still, Arana emphasized race over language in his descriptions of what it meant to be Basque, perhaps in acknowledgement of how sparse the use of Euskara had become. “So long as there is a good dictionary, language can be restored even though no one speaks it. Race, once lost, cannot be resuscitated”.420

415Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 50-53, 167-169. 416Clark, The Basques: The Franco Years and Beyond, 41. 417Arana quoted in Corcuera Atienza, The Origins, Ideology, and Organization of Basque Nationalism, 1876-1903. 418Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 173. 419Diego Muro, Ethnicity and Violence: The Case of Radical Basque Nationalism (London: Routledge, 2008), 9. 420Payne, Basque Nationalism, 76. Originally in Sabino Arana Goiri, Obras completas, 2nd ed. (Donostia-San Sebastián: Sendoa, 1980), 404. 149

As the political vehicle for Arana and his ideology, PNV echoed his idea that Basque identity was rooted in racial difference, whereas Euskara was of secondary importance. The organization used race-based criteria to fill its ranks. Initially, members had to have four grandparents with Basque surnames, but after immigration reconfigured the demographics of the

Basque provinces, the requirement was lowered.421 That said, PNV were hostile to the Spanish- speaking newcomers, portraying the latter as violent, immoral, and racially inferior to the

Basques.422

Beyond its role as a political party, PNV was heavily involved in the promotion of Basque culture, including the symbolic importance of Euskara. Just as it encouraged participation in traditional activities and in-group associations (like the famed mendigoitzales, or mountain- climbing groups), the organization looked favorably on Basques learning their native language.423

However, PNV recognized that the vast majority of their audience did not speak Euskara, and revival of the language ranked lower on their list of priorities than protecting the religious character of the group.424 While Euskara was important as an artifact of Basque culture, PNV did not consider it to be a central component of Basque identity. Basqueness was a matter of biological kinship, irrespective of linguistic repertoire.

Prior to the outbreak of the Civil War, only about a third of the population in the Basque provinces were proficient in Euskara—an estimated 400,000 speakers.425 The number dropped further during the dictatorship. As part of his efforts to eliminate all aspects of Basque identity,

421John L. Sullivan, ETA and Basque Nationalism: The Fight for Euskadi, 1890-1986 (London: Routledge, 1988), 10. 422Ibid., 7. 423Clark, The Basques: The Franco Years and Beyond, 50-54. 424Arana formed the PNV to uphold Catholic conservative values, and the party maintained its clerical nature after his death. See: Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 173- 178. 425Payne, Basque Nationalism, 104. 150

Franco instituted a general ban on Euskara, outlawing its use in official documents, schools (both public and private), and religious practices. Additional examples of the cultural repression that characterized this period include the shuttering of the Basque university, forceful disbandment of

Basque cultural associations, and mass burning of books written in Euskara.426 These aggressive policies were aimed at marginalizing the Basque language, and soon the subset of Euskara speakers among those residing in the Basque provinces was down to a fifth.427

By the time ETA emerged in the early 1950s, the role of Euskara in Basque identity had become marginal; a combination of demographic changes, the pull of assimilation to Spanish, and outright repression by the state all served to minimize the presence of Euskara in Basque life, to the point where membership in the Basque group could not be determined on the basis of proficiency in Euskara. Even among the nationalists, few spoke the language, and most did not consider it a viable rallying point for the movement. Instead, Basque identity was defined in racial terms. A Basque was a blood relation of other Basques, regardless of where they were in the world or what language they spoke.

6.3 The Origins of ETA (1952-1960)

The origins of ETA can be traced back to 1952, when a number of Bilbao university students would gather to discuss their readings of Basque culture and history. Such activities were illegal under Francoism, so the students kept the gathering a secret. Soon, they were exposed to

Basque nationalist thinking, which fueled their frustration at the dictatorship and the systematic erasure of their Basque heritage. Moreover, they were incensed at the perceived passivity of PNV.

426Clark, The Basques: The Franco Years and Beyond, 137. 427Robert P. Clark, “Language and Politics in Spain’s Basque Provinces,” West European Politics 4, no. 1 (1981), 85. 151

The students began to circulate a bulletin that featured calls for action against Madrid. The title of the publication, Ekin (to do), also served as the name for their fledgling organization.428

Ekin represented a new voice in Basque nationalism, which had long been steered by the

Catholic and conservative PNV. Breaking with the previous generation, Ekin described themselves as patriotic but secular, and as a leftist organization. They were simultaneously inspired by the actions of their predecessors who had bravely opposed fascism during the Civil War, and repulsed by their moderation in later years.429 Their members—all in their early 20s—were eager “not to wait, but to act” against the oppression of Basqueness, and willing to use violence if necessary.430

The contents of their discussions would later become the essay collection titled, “Cuadernos Ekin”

(Ekin notebooks).431

The “Cuadernos Ekin” are a mixed bag; some sections revisit Basque history, while others reflect on the present state and future goals of the Basque people, interspersed with safety guidelines for Ekin members. The “Cuadernos” open as expected, with a nod to the foundation of

Basque nationalism—namely, the fueros. The authors (unnamed members of Ekin) claim that these ancient laws and institutions enabled the Basques to live democratically, and should therefore be restored. Additionally, they argue in favor of the preservation of the Basque national spirit.

Notably, in their discussion of the origins of the Basque ethnic group, they reference both its racial and linguistic distinctiveness.432

428Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 83-90. 429Sullivan, ETA and Basque Nationalism: The Fight for Euskadi, 1890-1986, 28-29. 430ETA, “La Fundación de ETA,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 1:21-23. 431ETA, “Notas a los ‘Cuadernos EKIN’,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 1:76. 432ETA, “Cuadernos EKIN,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 1:78- 103. 152

In a lengthy final section titled “Euskara and Basque Patriotism”, the authors point to the problem of the Basque national language. They begin by describing the “triple regression” of

Euskara: its shrinking territorial presence, its abandonment by the Basque leadership and urban elites, and the diversification of its dialects, which decreased intelligibility among the Basques. As a result, Euskara has limited utility—the authors go so far as to deem it useless. “As patriots, we cannot allow the Basque man to serve Euskara: the language has to be at his service”.433 They argue that the problem of Euskara must be confronted directly, without any sentimentalism. The authors reject the idea of conserving the language as a cultural relic, stating that Euskara is bound to disappear if it does not resume its function as a vehicle of Basque expression and production.

Still, they acknowledge that 99% of Basque activities are conducted in Spanish or French. The only way to revive Euskara is through the establishment of a free Euskadi, as every national language flourishes when its people are self-governing.434

Most importantly, the authors of the “Cuadernos Ekin” equate the existence of Euskara with that of the Basque people. If the former is lost, then so is the latter. They repeat this point several times, in order to create a sense urgency around the likely demise of the language in their lifetime. The section concludes with a list of tasks aimed at saving Euskara and the Basques from extinction. The goal is a language with a common dialect, adapted to modern life, and widely used in public and private. Here, the authors specifically address their audience. They call on euskaldun

(Euskara-speaking) families to pass the language on to their children; failure to do so is contributing to the genocide of the Basques. The authors suggest that some allowances can be made in cases of “patriots who are not Euskara-speaking”, though this is quickly dismissed as a

433ETA, “Cuadernos EKIN,” 105. 434Ibid., 104-109. 153 nonsensical scenario.435 They state that the erdaldun (Spanish-speaking) patriot compromises the future of the Basque language and people and must disappear.436

In 1959, after briefly entertaining a merger with the youth wing of the PNV, some former members of Ekin founded Euskadi ta Askatasuna (Euskadi and Freedom), or ETA.437 Originally, the organization did not set out to engage in violence. Their activities were limited to the dissemination of ideas, pamphlet creation and distribution, graffiti, and the occasional display of an ikurrina, the banned Basque flag.438 Aspiring members went through “cursillos de formación”

(training courses).439 Some of the study materials that accompanied these trainings were preserved in the “Cuadernos ETA” (ETA notebooks). Unsurprisingly, this document replicates some sections from “Cuadernos Ekin”, including the one dedicated to Euskara. However, “Cuadernos ETA” is far more expansive than its predecessor, touching on issues of democratic governance in Euskadi and the importance of separating church and state, critically examining the legacy of Arana and the autonomy statute of 1936, and even curating a list of Basque literature.440

The “Cuadernos ETA” help shed light on the ways in which the organization looked to set itself apart from other Basque nationalists. The section “Origins” reflects ETA’s struggle to redefine Basqueness. It describes the Basques as a separate people in terms of the two most fundamental ethnic characteristics: language and race. First, the authors (again unnamed) emphasize the linguistic distinctiveness of Euskara, the oldest language in Europe. They then go on to discuss “the Basque racial type”.441 They contend that Basque racial unity is no longer, but

435ETA, “Cuadernos EKIN,” 109. 436Ibid., 104-109. 437Robert P. Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980 (Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1984), 26-27. 438Clark, The Basques: The Franco Years and Beyond, 156-157. 439Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 91. 440ETA, “Cuadernos ETA,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 2:52-228. 441Ibid., 63. 154 there are certain characteristics that differentiate the group from those surrounding it, referring to physical features like hair and eye color, as well as blood type. The authors argue that, although race is the most durable national trait, once language is lost, race is not enough to set the group apart. In spite of its length, this section is vague and riddled with contradictions—no doubt a testament to the difficulty of transitioning from the longstanding idea of Basque identity as one based in race, to one centered on language.442

As part of their training, ETA members studied popular resistance movements around the world, to determine how their methods may be applied in the Basque case. They summarized their insights in a white paper type publication known as the “Libro Blanco”.443 This internal document, which dates back to 1960, cites campaigns of nationalist resurgence in Tunisia and Ireland, and contains a lengthy discussion of Marxism. In a section titled “The Political Present and Future of

Euskadi”, the authors first reference the mass immigration wave that commenced in the 1950s as part of the industrial expansion of the Spanish Miracle. They note the threat it poses to Basque survival, calling for the assimilation of those who are “truly settled” in the Basque provinces, and only them.444

This document, too, has a section dedicated to Euskara. It echoes both of the “Cuadernos” and their warnings about the consequences of abandoning Euskara: severing the connection between the Basques and their ancestors in favor of absorption by a foreign culture, leading to their demise as a group. Interestingly, the “Libro Blanco” and the “Cuadernos” all mention La

Rioja as an example of a region that was once racially Basque, but shed its association with the group upon losing its proficiency in Euskara.445 This suggests that language is more important than

442ETA, “Cuadernos ETA”, 60-65. 443ETA, “El Libro Blanco,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 1:148. 444Ibid., 148-299. 445ETA, “Cuadernos EKIN,” 106; ETA, “Cuadernos ETA,” 141; ETA, “El Libro Blanco,” 254. 155 race in distinguishing the Basques from the groups surrounding them. The task of restoring

Euskara as the national language of the Basque people appears to take precedence even over self- governance. “To fight for a free but Spanish-speaking Euskadi is to fight for a beautiful coffin”, the authors write.446 They then reiterate the importance of modernizing Euskara for regular use, and acknowledge that the majority of Basques will not become proficient in the language overnight. That said, abertzales (patriots) must lead by example and use Euskara exclusively.447

Based on these foundational texts, the Basque identity frame advanced by ETA in their early years was different than that of Arana. Specifically, language replaced race as the principal marker of Basqueness. However, this new frame did not accurately reflect the role of Euskara in the perceptions and experiences of most Basques in the late 1950s. For one, few of them spoke the language. Though no precise figures exist, a common estimate for this time period puts the number of Euskara speakers at approximately half a million, or less than a quarter of the population of the

Basque provinces.448 Later reports by Euskaltzaindia lend further credence to this assertion.449

While the language was revered for its historic and cultural value, it no longer served as a principal means of communication. That Ekin and ETA published their internal documents in Spanish strongly suggests that many of their own members were not proficient in Euskara. Moreover, the contents of their publications exhibit an awareness of the minor role that language had come to occupy in the lives of most Basques. In this sense, ETA advanced an aspirational frame of Basque identity, one that was at odds with the precarious state of Euskara.

446ETA, “El Libro Blanco,” 254. 447Ibid., 253-258. 448Clark, The Basques: The Franco Years and Beyond, 140. 449Euskaltzaindia, El Libro Blanco del Euskara, 1977, accessed 23 November 2019, https://www.euskaltzaindia.eus/dok/iker_jagon_tegiak/6817.pdf; Euskaltzaindia, Conflicto Linguistico en Euskadi, 1979, accessed 23 November 2019, http://www.euskaltzaindia.com/dok/iker_jagon_tegiak/4250.pdf 156

Still, the decision to reimagine Basqueness with language at its core was not entirely surprising. Making political demands on the basis of racial differences had become somewhat unpalatable following WWII.450 More to the point, decades of immigration and intermarriage meant that race no longer served to distinguish the Basque people from their surroundings. That said, the choice of language as the basis of Basque identity was not intended to include immigrants—at least, not initially.451 The aforementioned documents show that Ekin and ETA thought of language as a tool with which to create a sense of unity among the Basques, across geographic locations, social classes, and generations.452

6.4 From Cultural to Armed Organization (1961-1967)

In the early 1960s, several initiatives to elevate the status of Euskara had taken root:

Euskaltzaindia settled on a formal dialect (Batua), and a network of clandestine schools dedicated to language instruction (ikastolak and gau estolak) was growing.453 This modest revival of Euskara was checked by an expanding economy that attracted a record number of Spanish-speaking immigrants to the Basque provinces, as well as intensifying repression at the hands of the central authorities.454 During this period, the members of ETA were engaged in intense debate over ideology and strategy, which splintered the organization. Amidst the turmoil, two trends are identifiable: the gradual neglect of language, and the turn to violence.

450Raúl López Romo and Gaizka Fernández Soldevilla, “From Ethnic Exclusion to Terrorism? The Case of Radical Basque Nationalism,” Journal of Iberian and Latin American Studies 24, no. 3 (2018). 451Sullivan, ETA and Basque Nationalism: The Fight for Euskadi, 1890-1986, 39; Muro, Ethnicity and Violence: The Case of Radical Basque Nationalism, 100-101. 452ETA, “Cuadernos EKIN,” 105. 453Urla, Reclaiming Basque: Language, Nation, and Cultural Activism, 77. 454Sullivan, ETA and Basque Nationalism: The Fight for Euskadi, 1890-1986, 27; Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 225. 157

Since its inception, ETA considered violence to be a legitimate recourse in the fight for an independent Euskadi.455 However, the organization did not begin its violent campaign against

Madrid in earnest till the late 1960s—with the exception of a single episode in 1961. An ETA plot to blow up a train carrying Civil War veterans loyal to Franco had gone awry. The explosion failed to derail even a single car, but resulted in the arrest and exile of a couple hundred ‘etarras’

(members of ETA).456 The following year, ETA held their first assembly. It was sparsely attended; the brief experience with violence had served a terrible blow to the organization, and encouraged the remaining members to be more intentional and systematic in their struggle against Spanish repression. By the close of the assembly, ETA had identified the most urgent tasks: deploying propaganda to counter the manipulation of the Spanish and French presses and forming “cuadros”

(militant cadres) to take on the Francoist state apparatus.457

The main product of the first ETA assembly was an official “Declaración de Principios”

(Declaration of Principles), distributed widely in the cultural centers of the Basque provinces. The document—printed in Euskara, Spanish, French, and English—identified the organization as a

“Basque revolutionary movement for national liberation” and asserted the right of the Basque people to self-govern. The territory of the proposed Euskadi included all 7 provinces of the historic

Basque Country.458 In the “Declaración”, ETA claimed to advocate for democratic governance, human rights, decentralization of power, European integration, and a right of return for the Basque diaspora, whilst rejecting “unnatural and prejudicial” borders, as well as racism.459 The document

455See the section ‘Moral de Resistencia Nacional’ in ETA, “Cuadernos ETA,” 129-134. See also: Muro, Ethnicity and Violence: The Case of Radical Basque Nationalism, 7. 456Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 91. 457ETA, “Notas a la Primera Asamblea,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 1:522-523. 458The document lists only 6 provinces which include “Navarre”, presumably merging Navarre in Spain and Lower Navarre in France. See: ETA, “Euzkadi Ta Azkatasuna: Principios,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 1:532-533. 459Ibid., 532. 158 also stated that ETA did not support the segregation or expulsion of “foreign elements” from the

Basque Country, so long as they refrained from interfering with the national interests of Euskadi.

The organization also guaranteed free and mandatory schooling to “every Basque citizen, regardless of origins”.460 Finally, ETA reiterated the primacy of Euskara as the only Basque national language, but also recognized that the “present linguistic realities” necessitated that the independent Euskadi be trilingual, at least on a provisional basis.461

Along with the “Declaración de Principios”, ETA began to circulate their journal Zutik

(Stand Up), which featured news reports and essays in both Spanish and Euskara. This early propaganda gained some traction with the youth of Biscay and Gipuzkoa, but support was scant in

Álava and Navarre.462 At this point, the organization was still ambivalent in its treatment of immigrants, so its efforts at mobilization were aimed at a narrow segment of the population: euskaldunak (or would-be euskaldunak) with leftist views.463 This, at a time when written use of

Euskara remained illegal, the number of Spanish speakers residing in the Basque provinces was growing exponentially, and any form of resistance to the regime was likely to be met with imprisonment, torture, death, or exile.464 In other words, ETA faced limited and dwindling prospects in terms of attracting support and increasing their membership.

All the while, ETA were still in the process of developing their political program. The 1962 publication of “Vasconia” by Federico Krutwig proved particularly influential. Krutwig, who was a member of Euskaltzaindia but not yet affiliated with ETA, rejected Arana’s definition of

460ETA, “Euzkadi Ta Azkatasuna: Principios,” 532-533. 461The three languages are Euskara, Spanish, and French. See: Ibid, 533. 462ETA, “Notas a la II Asamblea,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 2:433-434. 463The vast majority of ETA members during this period had two Basque parents (based on last names) and hailed from towns where the percentage of Euskara speakers was considerably higher than the average in the Basque provinces. See Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980, 147. 464Ibid., 236-242. 159

Basqueness in favor of a voluntaristic view of membership in the group based on language proficiency.465 Accordingly, anyone who spoke Euskara could be considered Basque, whereas natives who did not were seen as “castrated and mutilated”, or simply “traitors”.466 His more lasting contribution to the evolution of ETA had to do with strategy. Krutwig argued that the liberation of Euskadi would be achieved through armed struggle. Against a background of increasing state surveillance and arrests, “Vasconia” nudged the organization in the direction of violence.

In 1963, a prominent member of ETA synthesized the ideas originally proposed by Krutwig in a designated manual. “Insurrección en Euzkadi” (Insurrection in Euskadi) provides a blueprint for a Basque revolutionary war that combines psychological warfare with guerrilla tactics. The document stresses the importance of mobilizing popular support as the first step towards seizing power. Additionally, it lays out the logic of the action-repression-action spiral for which ETA would come to be known: the revolutionary forces strike at the oppressor, provoking the latter to retaliate indiscriminately, which in turn increases support for the revolutionaries among the general population. Notably, the document does not mention Euskara, neither as a means of communication between combatants, nor as a goal of the struggle for liberation.467

The publications of “Vasconia” and “Insurrección en Euzkadi” gained some prominence in the media. The latter portrayed ETA as a terrorist organization, even though the methods they employed had yet to catch up to their rhetoric.468 Shortly after the third assembly in 1964, France expelled the founders of Ekin and ETA, leading to their replacement by a younger and more radical

465Díez Medrano, Divided Nations: Class, Politics, and Nationalism in the Basque Country and Catalonia, 139. 466Krutwig quoted in López Romo and Fernández Soldevilla, “From Ethnic Exclusion to Terrorism? The Case of Radical Basque Nationalism.” 467ETA, “La Insurrección en Euzkadi,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 3:23-65. 468ETA, “Prologo al Volumen III,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 3:3-4. 160 leadership. Members of the organization had always engaged with Marxism in some capacity, and its influence became more pronounced with the departure of the ‘old guard’.469 Having observed a wave of labor strikes in the early 1960s, the ‘new guard’ were increasingly attuned to the struggle and mobilization of the working class. Consequently, at the fourth assembly, ETA announced a dual nationalist and socialist agenda, and amended the “Declaración de Principios” to reflect this development.470

As the internal debates on the application of Marxist theory and the merits of adopting violent tactics intensified, they drowned out the cultural content that characterized ETA in their early years. References to Euskara in documents that outlined the objectives of the organization were few and far between, and often indicative of the dire state of the language, even among the etarras. For instance, the minutes from the third assembly state that “those responsible for ETA” must learn Euskara, and have two years to do so—confirming that a significant portion of their leadership were not, in fact, euskaldunak.471 Other examples include two seminal essays published in 1964-1965 that detailed the revolutionary intentions of ETA and their pursuit through action- repression-action: “Bases teóreticas de la guerra revolucionaria” (Theoretical Bases of the

Revolutionary War”) and “Carta a los intelectuales” (Letter to the Intellectuals).472 Like

“Insurrección en Euzkadi”, the former is absent any references to Euskara or its speakers. The latter mentions the language very briefly, confirming its decline and expressing a desire for its

469Sullivan, ETA and Basque Nationalism: The Fight for Euskadi, 1890-1986, 46. 470ETA, “Notas a la IV Asamblea,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 3:513. 471ETA, “Actas de la segunda parte de la III Asamblea,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 3:125-126. 472“Bases teóreticas de la guerra revolucionaria” was discussed at the IV assembly, as was “Carta a los intelectuales”, which first appeared in Zutik 25 (September 1984). See Teresa Whitfield, Endgame for ETA: Elusive Peace in the Basque Country (London: C. Hurst and Co., 2014), 328. 161 restoration as “the language for all Basques”, without elaborating on how this goal would be achieved.473

Further evidence that Euskara was losing its significance in the eyes of ETA can be found in a string of correspondence between their Executive Committee and one of the exiled founders, a man best known by his pseudonym, ‘Txillardegi’. The latter was a member of Euskaltzaindia and an avowed nationalist, writing to express his concern about the new direction of ETA and their

“abandonment” of Euskara.474 In one of the letters, Txillardegi pointed out that the minutes from the fourth assembly contained an acknowledgement that Euskara was “of no importance to the militants beyond the theoretical”.475 Both the minutes and the letter strongly suggest that, though they valued the idea of Euskara, many within the organization did not use the language or consider its revival a priority.

In another letter preceding the fifth assembly, Txillardegi called attention to the fact that

Zutik had stopped publishing in Euskara.476 The Executive Committee responded, agreeing with his assessment of the state of the publication and recognizing that they had failed to prioritize the language. They also wrote:

“If you only consider euskaldunak to be patriots—a euskaldun being a person who can express themselves entirely in Euskara at all levels —we admit that we are not good patriots. The majority of the current leaders possess Euskara only at an infantile, rickety, undeveloped level. In this sense, we have no choice but to accept your accusation.”477

473ETA, “Zutik núm. 25,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 3:283-294. 474ETA, “Ante la Asamblea de ETA, V-38 21.5.1965,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 4:487-491. 475Ibid., 489. 476ETA, “Informe al Comité Ejecutivo Br. 16.3.66,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 4:449-452. 477ETA, “De Comité Ejecutivo a Jean,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 4:470-473. 162

This statement diverges considerably from the early texts wherein ETA rejected the idea of erdaldun patriots, and reflects a change in their attitude towards Euskara. The response from the

Executive Committee continues with a discussion of immigration, the dangers of which Txillardegi accused them of ignoring. In it, the Executive Committee states that national liberation cannot come about unless the Spanish-speaking newcomers are assimilated, ‘Basquefied’, and brought into the struggle for a free Euskadi.478 The response does not clarify whether assimilation would require the immigrants to learn Euskara. However, the reference to their potential role in ETA’s plans shows that the organization was moving away from a mobilizing strategy based strictly on ethnic affiliation.

During the fifth assembly, tensions surrounding the ideology and strategy of ETA came to

a head. Over the course of several months in 1966-1967, a confrontation ensued between the

Marxists who took over during the fourth assembly (sometimes referred to as ‘Trotskyists’) and a

coalition of their predecessors, the exiled founders (the ‘culturalists’), Txillardegi among them.

The latter accused the new leadership of turning ETA into a Marxist-Leninist organization under

Spanish influence and neglecting its original goals—namely, the promotion of Basque culture, and

Euskara in particular.479 Initially, the founders prevailed, forcing the Marxists to split off and create

ETA-Berri (new ETA, later Komunistak). However, by the second half of the assembly, the

coalition had begun to crumble. The older culturalists were sidelined by a faction of young

‘tercermundistas’ committed to waging Third World-style revolutionary war as advocated by

Krutwig, who had since joined them.480 The founders of ETA subsequently resigned in protest.481

478ETA, “De Comité Ejecutivo a Jean.” 479Sullivan, ETA and Basque Nationalism: The Fight for Euskadi, 1890-1986, 47-56. 480Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 97. 481ETA, “Al Comité Ejecutivo de ETA (Carta de dimisión de Txillardegi, Benito del Valle, y Xabier Imaz),” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 7:101. 163

At this point in time, ETA members were subject to frequent arrests, torture, and other forms of brutal retaliation by the Spanish authorities.482 As a result, the organization experienced rapid turnover, with most etarras only lasting a short while before they deserted, were captured or killed.483 Additionally, ETA were still recruiting primarily native Basques from areas with high concentrations of Euskara speakers—a shrinking minority in the Basque provinces.484 Much of the internal strife and restructuring during this period stemmed from a growing awareness that, in order to mount a serious violent challenge to the Spanish state, the organization had to expand its target audience. Simultaneously, Marxist thinking and the growth of the labor movement encouraged ETA to shift their focus towards class struggle.485

Considering that the vast majority of workers in the Basque provinces were Spanish speaking, their mobilization represented a potential conflict of interests for a nationalist organization. How could ETA fight for a free Euskadi whilst colluding with the enemy, or champion the rights of the Basque people and immigrants at the same time? It is on this question that the factions within ETA diverged. ETA-Berri aligned themselves with the working class and against the Basque bourgeoisie, effectively choosing socialism. The culturalist founders (including

Txillardegi) were vocal in their criticism of this move, instead demanding that ETA return to its nationalist roots by recommitting to the 1962 “Declaración de Principios”. The new tercermundista leadership decided to pursue both routes, in order to maximize the potential for mass mobilization.486

482Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980, 236-244. 483Ibid., 147-152. 484The aforementioned demographic characteristics increase the likelihood that the etarras themselves spoke Euskara, but do not guarantee it. So, they do not negate the finding that many of them were erdaldunak, as established previously in this chapter. See: Ibid,, 150. 485Sullivan, ETA and Basque Nationalism: The Fight for Euskadi, 1890-1986, 46-47. 486Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 242. 164

To that end, ETA introduced the concept of the “Pueblo Trabajador Vasco”, identifying it as the exploited class that would fight for the national liberation of the Basque people. The term is somewhat deceptive; taken literally, it refers to the Basque working people, that is to say, workers of Basque descent. However, the minutes from the fifth assembly clarify that its meaning is more expansive, encompassing “the Basque proletariat and various oppressed elements of other social classes”.487 The document goes on to name and define each group, including “the immigrant proletariat”, which is characterized as both exploited and, by virtue of its Spanish-speaking culture, contributing to the exploitation of the Basque people. However, the document clarifies, “those immigrants that integrate in Euskadi through a process of ‘de-alienation’ from the Basques are part of [the Pueblo Trabajador Vasco].”488 The terms of integration are unspecified. With this concept,

ETA redefined its target audience to explicitly include non-Basques. Membership in the group was no longer predicated on language or the willingness to learn it, but on a combination of class loyalty and commitment to a revolutionary nationalism.

Also during the fifth assembly, the organization announced its restructuring into four fronts: cultural, socio-economic (later Frente Obrero, or workers’ front), political, and military.

The Frente Cultural was in charge of Euskara; its tasks consisted of promoting the language through the ikastolak and “marginal activities” like folklore and theatre groups.489 It is worth noting that, by 1967, most of these activities were not illegal.490 In describing this front, the minutes from the fifth assembly state: “Euskara is not an end in itself, but must serve as an instrument for the development of a popular Basque culture”.491 Though it remained on the revolutionary agenda,

487ETA, “Ideología oficial de Y,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 7:98-99. 488Ibid. 489ETA, “V. Asamblea Nacional de ETA 2. Sesión (Actas),” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 7: 84-97. 490Sullivan, ETA and Basque Nationalism: The Fight for Euskadi, 1890-1986, 65. 491Ibid. 165 the Basque language was no longer indispensable but supplementary, a means to the end of liberation by way of fortifying national consciousness for armed struggle.

The departure of the culturalists marked the end of ETA as an organization dedicated first and foremost to the revival of Euskara.492 It had become apparent that their original language- based framing of Basque identity and mobilizing rhetoric did not resonate with the Basques, including those within their own ranks. Additionally, the challenge of attracting members and supporters in a region increasingly populated by non-Basques pulled ETA away from their ethnic foundation and in the direction of other commonalities, such as class consciousness and violent resistance to a repressive central government. At the close of the fifth assembly, the organization was open to recruiting immigrants regardless of their commitment to Euskara—hence their adoption of the ‘Pueblo Trabajador Vasco’, a term that remained in use well into the 1970s.493

6.5 The Turn to Violence (1968-1980)

By the end of the 1960s, ETA had mostly settled on their ideological framework: a mixture of nationalism and socialism, and an overarching desire to contest the authority of Spain. This did not mean the end of internal unrest, however. The 1970s saw several more changes of leadership as a result of sweeping repressive actions, power struggles, and schisms accompanied by accusations of susceptibility to Spanish influence (españolismo) and disagreements about the scope of revolutionary activities. That said, 1968 marked a significant turning point for ETA; after years of planning and engagement in sporadic operations that had the potential to escalate

(specifically, armed robberies to finance their activities), the organization began to target individuals with the intention of inflicting harm. Their use of violence fueled the action-repression-

492Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 240-241. 493Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980, 45. 166 action spiral and enabled ETA to attract widespread support by instilling a perception of existential threat in the inhabitants of the Basque provinces and reframing Basque identity to value action and voluntarism above all else.494

The event that spurred ETA to launch its violent campaign was a chance encounter with the Guardia Civil, the militarized force in charge of policing under Franco. On June 7th, 1968, following a robbery, officers of the Guardia Civil stopped a car transporting two etarras at a roadblock. The ensuing gunfight resulted in the death of officer José Pardines, the first victim of

ETA.495 The etarras got away, only to be confronted at another roadblock. One was caught, tortured, then tried in military court, and the other was killed. The latter was Txabi Etxebarrieta, a leader of the tercermundistas who came up with the concept of the Pueblo Trabajador Vasco. His death at the hands of the Guardia Civil provoked public outrage. Etxebarrieta had been involved with the labor movement, and was subsequently mourned by immigrants as well as ethnic

Basques.496 The event sparked a wave of demonstrations across the Basque Country. Many of these turned violent when the police attempted to contain them.497 ETA saw a growth in their membership as consequence.498

The killing of one of their own and the response to it emboldened ETA to put their revolutionary strategy to the test. The timing was right to retaliate in a way that would be acceptable to the public, but also provoke the government to amp up repression, which would further galvanize support for the organization.499 Their chosen target was Melitón Manzanas, a

494Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 203. 495“Un guardia civil de tráfico asesinado a tiros,” El Diario Vasco, 7 June 1968; “556 muertos en 20 años,” El País, 12 June 1988. 496Sullivan, ETA and Basque Nationalism: The Fight for Euskadi, 1890-1986, 71. 497ETA, “La acción-represión en Euskadi (Informe),” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 7:518-523. 498Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980, 48-49. 499Ibid. 167

Gipuzkoan-born police commissioner who had earned a reputation as a Nazi collaborator and torturer. In internal documents, ETA characterized Manzanas as having “spent long years employing his hatred for the Basques in various ways”.500 On August 2nd, 1968, a single gunman shot and killed Manzanas on his doorstep.501 ETA claimed responsibility for the attack soon thereafter, and asserted that it would not be an isolated incident: “the execution of policeman

Manzanas is an important step forward in our revolutionary struggle… we press on while the people help us, support us, and want us to continue… our struggle, the struggle of the Pueblo

Trabajador Vasco, cannot be stopped till Euskadi is truly free, that is to say, till Euskadi is independent and socialist”.502

The assassination of Manzanas achieved its goal of precipitating an escalation of state repression. Franco imposed an ‘estado de excepción’ (state of exception/emergency) in Gipuzkoa and later, the entirety of Spain, suspending constitutional rights for a period of 8 months. The number of arrests of suspected militants and supporters of ETA skyrocketed: over 600 in the

Basque provinces alone in August of 1968, and nearly 2,000 over the course of the following year.503 Many were tortured and tried for crimes against the state. This massive crackdown elicited even more backlash than the death of Etxebarrieta; different segments of the population of the

Basque provinces, from workers to Catholic priests, joined forces to protest the measures taken by the Francoist regime.504

In December of 1970, sixteen etarras were brought before a military tribunal for the charge of killing Manzanas. The infamous Burgos Trial lasted just under a month and captured the

500ETA, “La acción-represión en Euskadi (Informe),” 523. 501“Ha sido asesinado en Irún el policía Sr. Manzanas,” El Diario Vasco, 3 August 1968. 502ETA, “Melitón Manzanas Ejecutado,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 7:531. 503Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980, 49-50. 504Sullivan, ETA and Basque Nationalism: The Fight for Euskadi, 1890-1986, 72-73. 168 attention of the public both domestically and internationally. Across Spain, thousands of ETA supporters staged strikes, masses, and demonstrations, violently clashing with police as the central authorities enforced another estado de excepción.505 Elsewhere in Western Europe, crowds expressed solidarity for the accused. Spanish diplomatic delegations faced mounting pressure, and several ambassadors were recalled from their posts in Madrid.506 Still, the tribunal declared the etarras guilty. On December 30th, in a rare show of leniency, Franco commuted their sentences to

30 years in prison, as part of a deal brokered with ETA.507

The response to the Burgos Trial confirmed the effectiveness of violent contestation and the action-repression-action spiral—albeit at a tremendous cost—and showed the extent of support for ETA, which had not been tested up until that point. Their actions against a despised figure like

Manznas were met with indiscriminate reprisal by the state. This affected the inhabitants of the

Basque Country regardless of their spoken language. The scope of repression made it impossible to avoid. ETA thus succeeded in creating a pervasive sense of existential threat, and its reach was not limited to ethnic Basques. By deemphasizing ethnic affiliation in favor of the more inclusive

Pueblo Trabajador Vasco, and eliciting a reaction that targeted euskaldunak and erdaldunak alike,

ETA were able to mobilize the population at large against the state.508 This dynamic served to delegitimize Spanish control over the Basque provinces, paving the way for ETA to continue their violent campaign through the democratic transition years later.

Despite the success of the action-repression-action spiral, the crackdown that followed the killing of Manzanas emptied the ranks of ETA, and brought about another rapid change of

505“Le sort des accusés de Burgos suscite de nouvelles manifestations en Espagne et dans le monde,” Le Monde, 12 December 1970. 506Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 100-101. 507 La Vanguardia’s cover story for the 31st of December, 1970 was titled “Franco, the Magnanimous”. See also: Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980, 55. 508ETA, “Como vienen desarrollándose en nuestro taller los acontecimientos en torno al proceso de Burgos,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 10:85-89. 169 leadership. The new Executive Committee was less experienced and more cautious about armed operations, having witnessed the toll of repressive countermeasures on their organization. They developed a close relationship with labor leaders, including non-Basques, which was perceived by other factions within ETA as collusion with Spanish elements.509 The sixth ETA assembly was the scene of a rift that produced two organizations: ETA-VI and ETA-V. The conflict between them mirrored that of the fifth assembly; ETA-VI pushed to drop the goal of Basque independence and pledge their exclusive support for workers, while ETA-V called for adherence to the principles agreed upon during the previous assembly—namely, a combined agenda of nationalism and socialism, pursued through armed struggle.510 The latter prevailed.

The ETA split of 1970-1972 was yet another example of the constant pull of aligning with the left in order to achieve greater resonance with an increasingly non-Basque audience. Their proclaimed commitment to a nationalist vision for the organization and Euskadi did not prevent

ETA-V from threatening and attacking native Basques and even euskaldunak in pursuit of support from the working class. One specific example is that of Lorenzo Zabala, an Euskara-speaking industrialist kidnapped amidst a labor dispute.511 In subsequent years, ETA would go on to attack other capitalist figures of Basque origin as part of their campaign, including José Luis Arrasate and Angel Berazadi.512 Notably, ETA had very few working class victims, and these attacks were strongly denounced by leftist unions.513 Considering that ETA chose their targets carefully in order

509Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980, 51-59. 510See: ETA, “Manifieston Madariaga, Arregui, Etxabe, Krutwig y Beltza,” and the corresponding ETA, “Nota y Comunicado de aclaración de ETA,” in Documentos Y, ed. Hordago (Donostia-San Sebastián: Editorial Lur, 1979), 9:455-464. 511“Don Lorenzo Zabala ha sido liberado,” La Vanguardia Española, 23 January 1972. 512“Ayer, con José Luis Arrasate: ‘Estuve 36 días encerrado en un sótano’,” La Gaceta del Norte, 19 February 1976; “La tragedia del quinto secuestro,” Gaceta Ilustrada, 18 April 1976; “Los industriales vascos, blanco de ETA,” El País, 11 January 1983. 513Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980, 115. 170 to maximize the impact of their message, it appears that the organization valued their class allegiance and interests more than ethnicity.

Apart from targeting Basques in their operations, ETA were recruiting growing numbers of non-Basques. An investigation by Clark (1984) into the demographic characteristics of ETA militants reveals that, prior to 1976, over 72% of them had two parents with Basque surnames, while 14% had none. Post-1976, the percentage of etarras with two Basque parents dropped to

58%, and those descended from non-Basques rose to 23%.514 The total number of etarras also swelled; between 1960-1969, it was consistently estimated in the low hundreds, whereas at different points in the 1970s, membership peaked at approximately 1,000.515 The appeal of violence (especially for young men), an agenda that favored workers over the Basque bourgeoise, and a broader mobilization strategy evidently contributed to the growth of the organization.

At the same time, the importance of language as a basis for identity and mobilization continued to dwindle. An essential ideological document for ETA-V titled “Hacia un estrategia revolucionaria vasca” (Towards a Basque Revolutionary Strategy) made no mention of Euskara or its speakers, except to state that, along with other Basque ethnic characteristic, the language had been violently suppressed. A revised version of this document, “Fines y medios en la lucha de liberación nacional” (Ends and Means of the National Liberation Struggle), referred to

“euskalnización” (the diffusion of Basque culture, broadly defined) as a goal, but clarified that it was subordinate to “the destruction of the imperialist apparatus of oppression”.516 The revival of the language and its adoption by Basques and immigrants were matters to be dealt with once the

514Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980, 147. 515Donatella della Porta, Clandestine Political Violence (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 162. 516José Luis Zalbide, “Fines y medios en la lucha de liberación nacional,” Fondo documental Euskal Herriko Komunistak, accessed 19 December 2019, http://www.ehk.eus/es/vi-asamblea-cast/documentos-vi-asamblea- cast/4321-por-que-estamos-por-un-estado-socialista-vasco-1974 171

Basque revolutionary struggle had achieved its goal. The document confirms the marginal role of the Frente Cultural as compared to the other fronts, which were more clearly geared towards contesting the state.

In 1973, ETA executed their most daring and consequential attack up until that point: the assassination of Admiral Luis Carrero Blanco, right hand man to Franco and his successor as

President of Government. “Operación Ogro” took place on the morning of December 20th in

Madrid, as Carrero Blanco was headed to church. For weeks prior, ETA members had tunneled under a street on his route and deposited approximately 80 kilos of explosives. As his car passed over the tunnel, etarras disguised as electricians detonated the charge. The explosion blew the car up in the air and over a five-story wall into a nearby courtyard. Carrero Blanco, along with his driver and bodyguard, died instantly.517 The event positioned ETA as a substantial threat to the

Francoist regime in its final days. Internally, however, it served to deepen the divide between the

Frente Militar and the other fronts that were not directly implicated in the violence but suffered the wrath of the authorities nonetheless.518 In 1974, the Frente Obrero and Frente Cultural splintered off. The departure of the latter meant that ETA were no longer actively involved in the advancement of Euskara.

Later that same year, a controversial ETA attack on a cafe in Madrid that killed and injured dozens of bystanders precipitated their final split.519 Unlike previous rifts, this one was not motivated by ideology. The majority faction, ETA político-militar (ETA-pm), advocated for a unified political and military strategy, combining insurgency with efforts aimed at the mass

517“El presidente del Gobierno, salvajemente asesinado,” ABC, 21 December 1973; “Han sido identificados los autores del atentado contra el presidente del Gobierno,” La Vanguardia Española, 23 December 1973. For a full account by a member of ETA, see Julen Agirre, Operación Ogro (Paris/Hendaye: Ruedo Ibérico/Ediciones Mugalde, 1974). 518Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980, 70, 77-78. 519ETA did not claim responsibility for the attack but was widely presumed to have been involved. 172 mobilization. The minority rejected this setup in favor of a small, clandestine organization dedicated exclusively to armed struggle. This latter faction was directly descended from the Frente

Militar, and adopted the name ETA militar (ETA-m).520 The two organizations operated side by side for approximately a decade, resulting in one of the most violent periods in the history of the

Basque Country. Data presented by Clark (1984) indicates that ETA-pm were primarily engaged in bombings and kidnappings, which is consistent with their idea of forcing Madrid into negotiations. Conversely, ETA-m were responsible for most of the killings.521 Following the democratic transition, power struggles and disagreements about continuing violent operations fragmented ETA-pm, and while some of their members successfully transitioned to legitimate politics via the party system, the more radical elements were absorbed by a resurgent and decidedly violent ETA-m.522

The end of Francoism in the late 1970s did not immediately quell the violence or relative popularity of ETA. In fact, the number of victims at the hands of the organization was at its highest in 1980.523 After years of brutal repression, the transition to democracy opened the floodgates for expressions of discontent in the Basque Country. Demands for amnesty on behalf of Basque prisoners and worsening unemployment only amplified the tension, resulting in demonstrations and strikes that the police continued to crack down on.524 Both ETA-pm and ETA-m were able to capitalize on these sentiments and escalate their use of violence against the capitalist Spanish state by targeting their agents (members of the Guardia Civil, industrialists, etc.) and blowing up public spaces to undermine their authority.525 In the absence of Franco, ETA expressed their

520Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980, 79-80. 521Ibid. 128. 522Paul Preston, The Triumph of Democracy in Spain (London: Meuthen, 1986), 125. 523“Aquel año de un muerto cada 60 horas,” El País, 27 August 2000. 524“Aprobado el proyecto de ley contra el terrorismo,” El País, 18 July 1978. 525During this period, ETA still tried to avoid civilian casualties by calling in to the authorities to evacuate the bombing locations prior to detonation, which did not always go as planned. 173 dissatisfaction with the process of democratization and Basque autonomy, and reaffirmed their commitment to the struggle “for the creation of a Basque socialist state, independent, reunified, and Basque-speaking”, reiterating that the goal was “the exercise of political supremacy of the proletariat”.526

Apart from the crowds on the streets, support for ETA is often measured in terms of votes for their affiliated party coalitions—Euzkadiko Ezkerra (Basque Left) and Herri Batasuna

(Popular Unity)—though the degree of their affiliation with ETA has always been debatable.527

EE and HB originated in 1977 and 1978, respectively, and together they made up the abertzale

(patriotic) left. In the 1979 general elections, the two managed to capture a combined fifth of the votes in the Basque provinces, doubling their support to rival that of the moderate, center-right

PNV.528 A year later, Álava, Biscay, and Gipuzkoa, newly and jointly autonomous, held their first elections. The abertzale left won just under a third of the popular vote and the seats in the new

Basque parliament, while the PNV claimed 40%.529 Notably, HB refused to occupy the positions to which they had been elected, as a symbol of protest and discontent.530 The quick growth of both coalitions at a time when ETA violence was at its peak points to the popularity of their shared agenda.

Arguably the most direct measurement of public sentiment towards ETA are surveys that ask about the matter directly. Under Franco, such information would not have been collected, let alone made available.531 However, during and after the democratic transition, countless surveys

526ETA quoted in Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980, 106-107. 527William A. Douglass and Joseba Zulaika, “On the Interpretation of Terrorist Violence: ETA and the Basque Political Process,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 32 no. 2 (1990). 528Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980, 111-112. 529Ibid., 116-117. 530Douglass and Zulaika, “On the Interpretation of Terrorist Violence: ETA and the Basque Political Process.” 531The first survey on “the depth of positive sentiment for armed struggle” dates back to the summer of 1975, a few months before Franco’s death. See: Clark, The Basque Insurgents: ETA, 1952-1980, 171. 174 looked to gauge support for independence, violence, and ETA, yielding complex and somewhat contradictory results. Linz and Stepan (1996) show that, following the autonomy referendum in

1979, 17% of the population in the Basque Country (Navarre excluded) saw ETA as patriots, and an additional 33% characterized them as idealists. 8% chose “madmen”, while only 5% opted for

“criminals”.532 Conversi (1997) reports similar results from 1982, with 38% of the Basque population calling ETA idealists and patriots, and 31% referring to them as criminal or insane.533

At the same time, in 1981, only 8% expressed full support for ETA, and 23% indicated their total rejection of the organization; almost half of the respondents did not provide an answer.534 It seems that many who did not necessarily agree with ETA or their violent tactics still considered them to be a useful foil in dealing with the central government.535 This degree of acceptance for ETA, whether wholehearted or reluctant, at a time when the organization was extremely violent demonstrates their mobilization success.

For many others, the violence perpetrated by ETA was not so much a repelling factor as it was an attractor. Having rejected the racial/descent-based conception of Basqueness advanced by

Arana and the early Basque nationalists, and then given up their hopes of using language as a shared ethnic characteristic and rallying point for the movement, ETA had to anchor their sense of identity elsewhere. Violence, or voluntary participation in resistance, provided the answer.536 With the introduction of the Pueblo Trabajador Vasco, ETA opened the door for the recruitment of those who were not ethnically Basque, but amenable to joining in their struggle. The will to be Basque

532Juan J. Linz and Alfred Stepan, Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation: Southern Europe, South America, and Post-Communist Europe (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), 105. See also: Juan J. Linz, “From Primordialism to Nationalism,” in New Nationalisms of the Developed West: Toward Explanation, eds. Edward A. Tiryakian and Ronald Rogowski (Boston: Allen & Unwin, 1985), 203-253. 533Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 159. 534Linz and Stepan, Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation: Southern Europe, South America, and Post-Communist Europe, 105. 535Douglass and Zulaika, “On the Interpretation of Terrorist Violence: ETA and the Basque Political Process.” 536Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans, and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilisation, 252-253. 175 and to act in pursuit of nationalist and socialist liberation were therefore preferable to Basque ethnic characteristics, including proficiency in Euskara. The sentiment was expressed as early as

1965:

“We have always been and will be with the workers who, whether or not they were born in Euskadi, work for the establishment of a real democracy in our country. They are the basis of the future Basque society. We consider them and their children much more Basque than those capitalists with long Basque last names, who dare to call themselves patriots while they continue to enrich themselves at the expense of their own people.”537

In later years, this principle became practice. Immigrant-born etarras like Juan Paredes Manot

(‘Txiki’) who did not speak Euskara but was executed by Francoist forces in 1975 were hailed as

Basque heroes.538 Conversely, Basques and euskaldunak that did not identify with the abertzalek left or resist the influence of españolismo were seen as the enemy. Though ETA still aspired to establish a homeland for the Basques, the boundary between ‘us’ and ‘them’ hinged on choice and action, as opposed to the presence of an inherited characteristic. In other words, according to ETA,

Basque identity was no longer couched in ethnic terms.

This conception of Basqueness more accurately reflected public sentiment in the Basque

Country than the previous language-centric frame espoused by ETA. To prove this, Linz (1985) presents data from two surveys on the contents of Basque identity, taken in the late 1970s and early

1980s. When asked about the conditions necessary for a person to consider themselves Basque,

69% of respondents selected “to live and work in the Basque Country”, 60% chose “to have been born in the Basque Country or descend from a Basque family”, and only 30% opted for “to speak

537José Luis Zalbide, “Carta a los intelectuales,” Fondo documental Euskal Herriko Komunistak, accessed 19 December 2019, http://www.ehk.eus/es/iv-asamblea-cast/514-documentos-iv-asamblea-cast/4264-carta-a-los- intelectuales-1965-cast 538“Fusilados esta mañana,” Informaciones, 27 September 1975; “44 años de las últimas ejecuciones del franquismo: "Mi padre era el juez y recibió instrucciones de muy arriba para fusilarlos",” El Mundo, 27 September 2019. 176

Euskara”.539 The percentage of the population that characterized their identity as rooted in something other than an ethnic trait was significantly higher in Basque Country than in other regions (Catalonia and Galicia). Moreover, supporters of the abertzalek left were more likely to choose “live and work” than PNV voters, who tended to gravitate towards descent-based characteristics, including language.540 In a later survey, the criteria “the will to be Basque” and

“defense of the Basque nation” were added. Subsequently, 82% of the population in the Basque

Country listed “the will” as a necessary condition for Basqueness, and 70% said the same about

“defense of the Basque nation”.541 Unsurprisingly, the latter option more closely accorded with the activities of ETA and scored highest among HB voters. These data show that ETA helped propagate a view of Basque identity based on voluntarism and action, which resonated with their audience far better than an idea of Basque identity based on knowledge of Euskara.

6.6 Conclusion

The case of ETA and the Basques confirms certain elements of theory of language adaptability, while challenging others. Their initial framing of Basque identity around language was eventually abandoned, as it did not reflect the marginal role of Euskara in the lived experiences and perceptions of most Basques, let alone the broader population of the Basque provinces, which included a growing number of Spanish-speaking immigrants. Though language is an acquired trait which could have served as a rallying point for both Basques and non-Basques in theory, ETA recognized it as a poor breeding ground for mobilization against the state. For one, the number of

Euskara speakers was low to begin with; even etarras and nationalists who were avid supporters

539Linz, “From Primordialism to Nationalism,” 208-210. 540Ibid., 223-224. 541Ibid., 235-236. 177 of the language like Krutwig and Txillardegi learned the language as adults. Moreover, there were few incentives to adopt Euskara, especially in a Spanish-dominant environment where use of minority languages was a punishable offense. So, in light of the marginal role of Euskara in Basque life, and the adaptability of language which allowed individuals to reject it to avoid being subject to more repression, ETA abandoned their language-centric identity frame, as well as its initial efforts to revive Euskara, at least till such a time when conditions were more favorable.

However, the decision to redefine Basque identity as a voluntary association through action does not align with the predictions of the theory of language adaptability. The will to be Basque is more easily changed than any ethnic characteristic, including language. Still, by enacting a violent campaign which also targeted ethnic Basques, and provoking the Spanish state into indiscriminate retaliation, ETA were able to foster the idea that all of inhabitants of the Basque provinces irrespective of ethnic affiliation were faced with an existential threat—be it at the hands of the central authorities, or ETA themselves. The organization was able to overcome the limitations of an adaptable ethnic characteristic (or in this case, the absence of “sticky” ethnic content) and mobilize the public in support of their violence by reconceptualizing Basque identity as a choice: you are either with ETA or against ETA, in which case you will suffer ETA, as well as the repressive state.

178

Chapter 7. The Ambivalent Centrality of Galego and Limited Galician Contestation

The following chapter offers another example of the impact of language as a distinguishing trait on the mobilization of a linguistic group. It considers the case of the Galicians, the role that

Galego occupies in their identity, and their experience with contestation. The combination of political and economic factors at play in Galicia fostered high rates of proficiency in Galego, along with negative perceptions of the language. This dynamic—best characterized as ambivalent language centrality in group identity—undercut the prospects for mobilization against the Spanish state. Under Franco, the Galicianist movement centered their framing of Galician identity on the language and their efforts on elevating its status, but this did not have much of an effect on the linguistic repertoires of group members. In practice, Galicians who lived in urban settings adopted

Spanish, while the rural majority continued to use Galego. An insurgent organization, Unión do

Pobo Galego (UPG), sought to break with the lackluster and apolitical strategies of their

Galicianist predecessors.542 However, mixed attitudes towards the Galician language and identity yielded little co-ethnic support for their attempts at contestation, both violent and non-violent.

As a territorially bounded and economically disadvantaged group whose members are easily distinguished by their shared ethnic trait, one might expect the Galicians to be susceptible to violent mobilization. Yet, their engagement in all forms of contestation falls short of what has been observed of the Catalans and Basques. Moreover, compared to the other two groups and their respective nationalist movements, Galicianism was a fringe phenomenon. The chapter attributes the lack of support for Galicianist organizations and UPG in particular to the ambivalent centrality of language in Galician identity. Though the identity frame advanced by the Galicianists reflected the reality of language proficiency and use in Galicia—namely, that most Galicians spoke

542For the purpose of this dissertation, the name of the organization appears as it was listed in original UPG documents from the time period under examination. At present, the spelling is Unión do Povo Galego. 179

Galego—its resonance was limited by the fact that group members had come to associate their native language with rural backwardness, and were therefore more inclined to adapt than insist on accommodation or participate in contestation.

To showcase the challenges of mobilization in the Galician context, the chapter relies on an array of sources, including pamphlets and publications in Galego distributed by UPG and other

Galicianist organizations to the Galician public. Additionally, the chapter considers survey data on language use and attitudes in Galicia, drawn from reports by Real Academia Galega, Fundación

BBV, and Instituto Galego de Estatística (IGE), as well as media portrayals of Galician mobilization from the archives of El País, La Voz de Galicia, Nós Diario, and other sources.

The chapter commences with an overview of how early political absorption by Spain, geographic isolation, underdevelopment, and emigration helped to preserve Galego as the

Galicians’ distinguishing ethnic trait while cultivating negative perceptions of it. Next, the chapter delves to the relationship that the Galicians have with Galego, and establishes the ambivalent centrality of the language vis-a-vis Galician identity. The third section examines the implications of this latter characterization for group behavior under the dictatorship, such as the willingness of some sectors of the Galician population to replace Galego with Spanish, and Galicianist responses to it. The chapter goes on to trace the rise and evolution of UPG as the face of Franco-era Galician contestation and through the democratic transition. To conclude, the chapter reflects on the validity of the theory of language adaptability and the usefulness of language centrality as a variable.

7.1 Contributing Factors

The term ‘Galicians’ describes members of the ethnic group that inhabits the northwestern corner of the Iberian Peninsula. The group got their name from the Gallaeci, a Celtic tribe that

180 settled in the area prior to the Roman conquest, when it became Gallaecia.543 Modern-day Galicia

(sometimes styled as Galiza) is a smaller territory on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean, bordering

Portugal and the historical communities of Asturias and Castile and León.544 The four Galician provinces—A Coruña, Lugo, Ourense, and Pontevedra—are somewhat isolated from the rest of

Spain. Historically, their peripheral location has had an adverse effect on the economic development of the region. At the same time, it helped to differentiate the Galicians as a group and shield their language from external interference.545 Its geographic remoteness notwithstanding,

Galicia had little experience with self-rule, which hindered the growth and spread of a Galicianist movement in the 20th century. All combined, these factors contributed to the preservation of

Galego as the principal ethnic trait to distinguish the Galicians, paradoxically paired with negative perceptions of the language by its speakers.

Unlike the Catalans and Basques, the Galicians were not successful at resisting foreign control, experiencing only brief and occasional periods of independence. From 19 BC onwards,

Gallaecia was under Roman, Suebian, then Visigothic rule, and its successor, the Kingdom of

Galicia, was subservient to the more powerful Kingdoms of Asturias, León, and Castile.546 It should be noted that, for most of their early history, the territories of Galicia and Portugal belonged to the same political entity and shared a language (Galician-Portuguese), till Portugal broke away in the 11th century.547 Galicia, in turn, became part of the Crown of Castile. Prior to the unification

543Jaine E. Beswick, Regional Nationalism in Spain: Language Use and Ethnic Identity in Galicia (Clevedon: Multilingual Matters Ltd, 2007), 55. 544The term “comunidad histórica” (historical community) is used in reference to Asturias, Castile and León, and Cantabria—all of which are autonomous communities at present—and confers no legal status. As a reminder, Catalonia, Galicia, and the Basque Country are designated “nacionalidad histórica” (historical nationality). The latter term has constitutional implications for the procedure to obtain autonomy. 545Bernadette O’Rourke, “The Galician Language in the Twenty-First Century,” in A Companion to Galician Culture, ed. Helena Miguélez-Carballeira (Woodbridge: Tamesis, 2014), 74. 546Barney Warf and Carlos Ferras, “Nationalism, Identity, and Landscape in Contemporary Galicia,” Space and Polity 19, no. 3 (2015). 547Ibid. 181 of Spain, the Galicians enjoyed a degree of autonomy, but failed to develop long-standing and consequential institutions of their own.548 Compared to the Catalan Generalitat and the Basque fueros, the Galician representative assembly, Xunta do Reino de Galicia was short-lived and politically weak.549 As a result of their early incorporation into the Spanish state, the Galicians lacked both the practical experience and the historical memory of self-governance, which undermined their ability to make claims for its restoration later on.550

Though Galicia was rarely independent, its remoteness lessened the capacity of foreign rulers to affect change in the region. Up until its integration into Castile, Galicia experienced only

“minimal contact with the outside world”, and Galego—which had evolved from Galician-

Portuguese following the split from Portugal—was the language of general use in public and in private.551 Starting in the 15th century, the newly installed Castilian nobility in Galicia demanded that Galego be replaced with Spanish for purposes of administration and religious worship. In response, the Galician upper classes learned Spanish to secure their position. However, the overwhelming majority of the native population lived in rural areas, which were cut off from

Castilian influence. Their geographic isolation mitigated the impact of ever-intensifying Spanish centralization. Though most Galicians remained monolingual speakers of Galego, the shifting linguistic repertoires of the few wealthy urbanites among them created an association of Spanish with prestige and social mobility, whereas Galego came to be seen in a negative light, as a poor and backward language.552

548Beswick, Regional Nationalism in Spain: Language Use and Ethnic Identity in Galicia, 59. 549Ramón Máiz, “Nación de Breogán: Oportunidades políticas y estrategias enmarcadoras en el movimiento nacionalista gallego (1886-1996),” Revista de Estudios Políticos 92 (1996). 550Ramón Máiz and Antón Losada, “Institutions, Policies, and Nation Building: The Galician Case,” Regional & Federal Studies 10, no. 1 (2000). 551Beswick, Regional Nationalism in Spain: Language Use and Ethnic Identity in Galicia, 58-63. 552Ibid. 182

The peripheral location of Galicia also contributed to a lag in its development. The northwestern region was disconnected from the rest of Spain, and situated out of the way of central trade routes.553 In contrast to the early and vigorous industrialization of Catalonia and the Basque

Country, the Galician economy continued to rely on subsistence farming, fishing, and naval construction.554 Without an industrial expansion to elevate their socioeconomic status, fewer than

10% of Galicians lived in urban centers at the turn of the 20th century.555 Over half of the total population of Galicia was still employed in the primary sector as late as the 1960s.556 Most

Galicians were poor, uneducated, dispersed across a remote and expansive region characterized by poor infrastructure. It is not surprising, then, that the group struggled with effective intergroup communication.557 Under such conditions, the dissemination of Galicianist ideas and calls for mobilization proved particularly challenging.

Additionally, while the industrialized Catalonia and the Basque Country were attractive destinations for immigrants from poorer regions of Spain, an underdeveloped Galicia experienced significant emigration.558 It is estimated that, between 1860 and 1960, over a million Galicians departed their native region.559 Consequently, the majority of the population in Galicia had less contact with Spanish and its speakers than the Catalans and Basques, which slowed their language shift away from Galego.560 At the same time, the decision by so many Galicians to leave the region both reflected and reinforced negative perceptions of Galicia and its associated symbols. High

553With the exception of maritime trade, which was dominated by its neighbor to the south, Portugal. See: Michael Keating, “Rethinking the Region: Culture, Institutions, and Economic Development in Catalonia and Galicia,” European Urban and Regional Studies 8, no. 3 (2001). 554Warf and Ferras, “Nationalism, Identity, and Landscape in Contemporary Galicia.” 555Gabriel Rei-Doval, A lingua galega na cidade do século XX: Unha aproximación sociolingüística (Vigo: Edicións Xerais, 2007). 556Máiz and Losada, “Institutions, Policies, and Nation Building: The Galician Case.” 557Ibid. 558Keating, “Rethinking the Region: Culture, Institutions, and Economic Development in Catalonia and Galicia.” 559Ramón Villares, A Historia (Vigo: Editorial Galaxia, 1984), 147. 560As a reminder, the term ‘language shift’ is used in reference to the gradual process by which a speech community replaces one language with another. See the footnote on page 34 of this dissertation. 183 rates of emigration served as evidence that living in Galicia—and by extension, speaking Galego— was synonymous with poor economic prospects.

This section highlights a number of factors that shaped the Galicians as a linguistic group.

The geographically isolated, rural, and agrarian nature of Galicia limited their exposure to Spanish.

As a result, Galego maintained its function as their distinguishing ethnic trait.561 In 1877, an estimated 88% of the population in the region were monolingual speakers of Galego. By 1924, that percentage had declined, but remained relatively high at over 70%. Another 18% were bilinguals that identified Galego as their habitual language. Less than 6% of the population spoke only Spanish.562 These figures are unsurprising, considering that there had been no immigration of

Spanish speakers to Galicia. Instead, regional underdevelopment resulted in emigration from

Galicia, as well as a growing linguistic divide between a small Galician upper class that embraced

Spanish and a much larger peasant class that communicated exclusively in their native language.563

As a result, Galego came to be associated with rural backwardness. The next section considers the implications of near-universal proficiency in Galego combined with its low status for Galician identity and the development of Galicianism leading up to the rise of Franco.

7.2 Galego, Galician Identity, and Galicianism

As the previous section makes clear, the Galicians had a complicated relationship with their ethnic marker. On the one hand, Galego was widely used. On the other hand, it was the language of a poor and uneducated people in an underdeveloped region. The latter association was a source

561O’Rourke, “The Galician Language in the Twenty-First Century,” 76. 562Mauro A. Fernández Rodríguez and Modesto A. Rodríguez Neira, eds., Usos lingüísticos en Galicia: Compendio do II volume do mapa sociolingüistico de Galicia (Vigo: Real Academia Galega, Seminario de Sociolingüística, 1995), 53. 563O’Rourke, “The Galician Language in the Twenty-First Century,” 76. 184 of stigma and disaffection with Galego, including among its speakers. In other words, language occupied a position of ambivalent centrality in Galician identity. In response to this dynamic, the

Galicianist movement aimed to restore Galego to its medieval glory. By pursuing a language- centric and autonomist agenda, Galicianist organizations like Irmandades da Fala and Partido

Galeguista were able to achieve some success, which culminated in a referendum vote in favor of

Galician autonomy. However, owing to the adaptability of language, their moderate gains were undone by the repression of the Francoist dictatorship.

Galego is a Romance language; like Spanish and Català, its roots lie in Latin.564 That said,

Galego maintains the highest degree of mutual intelligibility with its neighbor to the south,

Portuguese. Some organizations have gone so far as to advocate for the reintegration of Galicia and Portugal on the basis of their linguistic proximity.565 Throughout the Middle Ages, Galego (or its ancestor Galician-Portuguese) was effectively “a normalized national language” of Galicia—it appeared in official documents and literary texts, and gained considerable prestige as the preeminent vehicle for lyrical poetry in the Iberian Peninsula.566 Galicians of all social classes spoke Galego up until the end of the 15th century, when the process of Spanish unification began.

The 16th through 18th centuries are known as the Séculos Escuros (Dark Ages) for Galego, referring to its replacement with Spanish in the public sphere.567 This same period cemented the diglossic relationship between the two languages, wherein Spanish assumed the role of the ‘high’ language (used in regional administration, schooling, writing, etc.) while Galego was relegated to

564Fernando Ramallo and Gabriel Rei-Doval, “The Standardization of Galician,” Sociolinguistica: International Yearbook of European Sociolinguistics 29, no. 1 (2015). 565This intellectual current is known as reintegracionismo (Reintegrationism) or lusismo. See: Warf and Ferras, “Nationalism, Identity, and Landscape in Contemporary Galicia.” 566Beswick, Regional Nationalism in Spain: Language Use and Ethnic Identity in Galicia, 59-60. 567Ibid. 185 lower functions (interactions with family and close friends).568 The remoteness and underdevelopment of Galicia complicated the situation further; upper-class, city-dwelling

Galicians adopted Spanish in addition to their native language, keeping the latter “within the confines of domestic urban life”, whereas the majority of their co-ethnics that resided in rural areas were able to speak Galego in private and public settings largely uninterrupted, due to the limited interest and capacity of the central state to operate in the region.569

At the same time, the loss of language status and prestige soured attitudes towards Galego.

Its continued use by rural Galicians, which enabled the survival of the language over time and in spite of efforts to Castilianize the region, also served to cultivate an image of the Galego speaker as a ‘paleto’ (hick/country bumpkin).570 The absence of a written standard for Galego reinforced the stigma associated with the language; in the eyes of many, it was reduced to a peasant dialect, a “corrupt and degraded” form of Spanish.571 Between the 15th and 19th centuries, production of new literature in Galego came to a halt, confirming that the language had fallen out of favor with

Galician intellectuals.572 Even among the lower classes, there was a growing perception that their native language lacked worth, as evidenced by the tendency of Galician rural-to-urban migrants to adopt Spanish.573 Said migrants recognized the latter as the language of progress and power, while

Galego was an obstacle to their advancement.574

568As a reminder, ‘diglossia’ refers to the use of two languages or two dialects of a language in different contexts by the same speakers. One of the languages is associated with ‘high’ or formal context, whereas the other is ‘low’ or colloquial. 569Jorge A. Marbán, “The Current Status of Galician in Spain,” Hispania 63, no. 3 (1980). 570Beswick, Regional Nationalism in Spain: Language Use and Ethnic Identity in Galicia, 62. 571Ibid. 572Ibid, 63; Ramallo and Rei-Doval, “The Standardization of Galician.” 573Xosé Luís Regueira, “Política y lengua en Galicia: La ”normalización” de la llengua gallega,” in Las Lenguas de España: Política lingüística, sociología del lenguaje e ideología desde la Transición hasta la actualidad, eds. Mónica Castillo Lluch and Johannes Kabatek (Madrid: Iberoamericana, 2006), 64. 574Fernando Pérez-Barreiro Nolla, “Which Language for Galicia? The Status of Galician as an Official Language and the Prospects for its ‘Reintegration’ with Portuguese,” Portuguese Studies 6 (1990). 186

When assessing the role of Galego in Galician identity, it is necessary to acknowledge this seemingly contradictory reality: negative perceptions of Galego were common in Galicia, despite the fact that over 90% of the population spoke it.575 In other words, the indicators of language centrality in group identity—proficiency (high) and attitudes (mixed)—pull in opposite directions, so the Galicians cannot be easily classified as language-centric or language-peripheral. Instead, the group falls into an intermediate category of ambivalent centrality. Language was central to

Galician identity in that it effectively distinguished group members, who were speakers of Galego, from non-members. However, concerns over the usefulness of their native language, the meager economic prospects and stigma associated with it increased the appeal of learning Spanish over that of preserving Galego. In other words, the ambivalent centrality of language in Galician identity meant that the Galicians were able and particularly amenable to adapt.

The gradual decline of Galego was interrupted by a period of cultural renaissance known as Rexurdimento. Similarly to the Catalan Renaixença, the Galician Rexurdimento was a mid-to- late 19th century Romanticist movement that centered on the literary revival of the regional language.576 Though it did not have much of an impact on the linguistic repertoires of the general population in Galicia (or their intellectual elite, for that matter), the Rexurdimento hastened the arrival of Galicianism.577 Rexurdimento-era writers exalted the history and culture of Galicia, which contributed to an awakening of Galician political consciousness. Their emphasis on Galego specifically helped establish the language as “the essential symbol of the Galician homeland” and

575The percentage of monolingual Spanish speakers in Galicia would not exceed 10% till the late 1960s. See: Fernández Rodríguez and Rodríguez Neira, eds., Usos lingüísticos en Galicia: Compendio do II volume do mapa sociolingüistico de Galicia, 53. 576Beswick, Regional Nationalism in Spain: Language Use and Ethnic Identity in Galicia, 64-65. 577Pérez-Barreiro Nolla, “Which Language for Galicia? The Status of Galician as an Official Language and the Prospects for its ‘Reintegration’ with Portuguese.” 187 the basis for claims on behalf of the group.578 Additionally, the Rexurdimento saw the formation of a number organizations and initiatives to elevate the status of Galego, including the Real

Academia Galega (Royal Galician Academy) in 1906, a body dedicated to the task of standardizing the language.579

Galicianism, or Galeguismo, originated as a form of cultural regionalism, later turned political movement with nationalist aspirations. During the Rexurdimento, early Galicianists like

Manuel Murguía began to refer to the Galicians as a separate people, citing their distinct language

(along with their supposedly Celtic origins and territorial concentration in Galicia) as evidence.580

However, their claims regarding the necessity of preserving Galego were incongruous with their own linguistic practices as upper class Galicians—Murguía himself wrote primarily in Spanish.581

1916 marked the foundation of Irmandades da Fala (Brotherhoods of the Language/Speech) and the transition to Galician nationalism.582 Irmandades was an organization with branches across

Galicia and the Galician diasporic communities. As the name suggests, the majority of their operations were in service of their native language, encouraging its use in the public sphere, including by establishing the newspaper A Nosa Terra (Our Land) and the publishing house Nós

(Us), both of which operated exclusively in Galego. That said, Irmandades da Fala was not strictly a cultural organization. In their 1918 manifesto, they called for Galego to be granted official status

578Máiz, “Nación de Breogán: Oportunidades políticas y estrategias enmarcadoras en el movimiento nacionalista gallego (1886-1996).” 579Ramallo and Rei-Doval, “The Standardization of Galician.” 580Murguía helped perpetuate the idea that, unlike other groups in Spain, the Galicians were descended from the Celts. However, this aspect of the Galician national myth is mostly exaggerated. See: Beswick, Regional Nationalism in Spain: Language Use and Ethnic Identity in Galicia, 55. 581Ibid., 65-67. 582The Irmandades described themselves as nationalists. They explained: “Since Galicia has all the essential characteristics of nationality, we name ourselves, hereinafter, Galician nationalists, as the word regionalism does not gather all the aspirations and does not enclose the complete intensity of our problems.” See: Irmandades da Fala, “Manifesto da Asemblea Nazonalista de Lugo,” Digital Library of National Movements in Europe, last modified 26 August 2010, http://diliname.eu/index.php/galicia/item/6-nacionalist-assembly-of-lugo-manifesto.html 188 on par with that of Spanish and advocated in favor of ‘Galicianizing’ the schools and judicial system, on the path toward national sovereignty for Galicia.583

The contributions of Irmandades da Fala to the development of Galician nationalism were considerable. Their publications elevated the most prominent Galicianist voices of the 1920s and

1930s, who came to be known as Xeración Nós (The Nós Generation). The members of Xeración

Nós considered Galego to be the fundamental element of Galician identity and the key to undermining Castilian domination by fostering a sense of national consciousness among the

Galician public.584 Additionally, Irmandades da Fala was the precursor to the political party

Partido Galeguista (Galicianist Party), which adopted a similar platform during the Second

Republic.

According to the party’s 1931 “Decraración de Principios” (Declaration of Principles),

Galicia was a cultural unit first and foremost, defined by its language, art, and spirit. Partido

Galeguista demanded “political self-government” for Galicia, complete with its own institutions, control over education, and an “indisputable right” to use Galego alongside Spanish.585 The party helped draft the Galician Estatuto de Autonomía (Statute of Autonomy), the fourth article of which recognized Galego and Spanish as the two official languages of Galicia, and required public office holders to demonstrate proficiency in the regional language.586 Partido Galeguista went to great lengths to promote the Estatuto, including by inflating the number of votes in support of it in the

583Tracy Henderson, “Language and Identity in Galicia: The Current Orthographic Debate,” in Nationalism and the Nation in the Iberian Peninsula: Competing and Conflicting Identities, eds. Clare Mar-Molinero and Angel Smith (Abingdon: Routledge, 1996), 242-243. 584Beswick, Regional Nationalism in Spain: Language Use and Ethnic Identity in Galicia, 68. 585Partido Galeguista, “Decraración de Principios,” Digital Library of National Movements in Europe, last modified 17 January 2011. http://www.diliname.eu/index.php/galicia/item/18-galicianist-party-declaration-of-principles.html 586“Galicia: Estatutos de Autonomía, 1936 e 1981,” Parlamento de Galicia, accessed 25 September 2020. http://www.parlamentodegalicia.es/sitios/web/Publicacions/Estatutos_de_Galicia_1936_1981.pdf 189

1936 referendum on autonomy.587 The Galicianists prevailed through the referendum, but the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War shortly thereafter thwarted the realization of Galician autonomy.

Considering the ambivalent centrality of Galego in Galician identity, it is not surprising that Galicianist organizations focused their efforts on the language. Their language-centric frames of identity echoed the lived experiences of most Galicians who spoke Galego. Said frames also pointed to the close association of the language with rural life, which was seen as the bastion of

Galician-ness. Moreover, their appeals to fellow co-ethnics as well as the Spanish state were aimed at elevating the status of Galego—through legal recognition, standardization, and use in ‘higher’ functions, such as literature, media, schooling, and bureaucracy. This course of action had the dual purpose of helping to combat the stigma surrounding Galego, and asserting the rights of group members as speakers of the language.

The same sense of ambivalent language centrality also explains why Galicianism was a fringe phenomenon. The Galicianist movement was spearheaded by urban intellectuals, whose early focus on Galician literature did not resonate with the Spanish-speaking upper class or the majority of Galego-speaking Galicians in rural areas, many of whom were illiterate.588 The aforementioned factors of regional underdevelopment, poor infrastructure, and ineffective intergroup communication ensured that Galicianism did not spread far beyond the circles from which the movement had originated. Even in this limited context of urban intellectual life, support for the Galicianist cause was so scarce that the few organizations that espoused it were internally divided on all other matters, which made them inherently unstable in the long run.589 Both

587Máiz, “Nación de Breogán: Oportunidades políticas y estrategias enmarcadoras en el movimiento nacionalista gallego (1886-1996).” 588Pérez-Barreiro Nolla, “Which Language for Galicia? The Status of Galician as an Official Language and the Prospects for its ‘Reintegration’ with Portuguese.”; Jaine E. Beswick, “Galician Language Planning and Implications for Regional Identity: Restoration or Elimination?” National Identities 4, no. 3 (2002). 589Máiz, “Nación de Breogán: Oportunidades políticas y estrategias enmarcadoras en el movimiento nacionalista gallego (1886-1996).” 190

Iramndades da Fala and Partido Galeguista were made up of “competing liberal and conservative political elites in search of a base”.590 That base did finally begin to grow in the 1930s around

Partido Galeguista and their proposed Estatuto de Autonomía.591 Still, the results of the referendum affirming the Estatuto came as a surprise, even after a five year pro-autonomy campaign and electoral interference to help tip the scale in its favor.592 In terms of mobilization, whatever momentum the Galicianist movement had been able to attain during the Second Republic came to a screeching halt in 1936 with the rise of Francoism.

This section shows how the combination of high language proficiency and mixed attitudes towards Galego (borne out of its association with backwardness, lack of upward mobility both social and economic, the relative appeal of Spanish, etc.) contributed to the development of

Galicianism—namely, by encouraging Galicianist organizations to adopt language-centric identity frames and agendas. These organizations, in turn, were slower and less successful at amassing support than their equivalents in Catalonia and the Basque Country. The sections that follow consider the implications of ambivalent language centrality for Galician linguistic repertoires and contestation under the Francoist dictatorship.

7.3 Galician Linguistic Repertoires and Galicianism Under Franco

Owing to the ambivalent centrality of Galego in Galician identity, Galicianism achieved only minimal societal penetration prior to the Civil War, making its survival through the dictatorship all the more difficult.593 The new regime was “highly intolerant” of all expressions of

590Angel Smith and Clare Mar-Molinero, “The Myths and Realities of Nation-Building in the Iberian Peninsula,” in Nationalism and the Nation in the Iberian Peninsula: Competing and Conflicting Identities, eds. Clare Mar- Molinero and Angel Smith (Abingdon: Routledge, 1996), 14. 591Núñez, “National Reawakening Within a Changing Society: The Galician Movement in Spain (1960-97).” 592Jorge Lamas, “El ‘santo pucherazo’ en Vigo,” La Voz de Galicia, 17 June 2009. 593Núñez, “National Reawakening Within a Changing Society: The Galician Movement in Spain (1960-97).” 191 regional identity, including the use of languages other Spanish.594 Francoist repression and its accompanying rhetoric fed into the negative perceptions surrounding Galego and stimulated a language shift among the Galicians. During this period, what remained of the Galicianist movement in Galicia came under the influence of Ramón Piñeiro López, who steered it back towards its cultural roots to the detriment of its political aspirations. Proponents of Piñeirismo believed that the only way forward was through the promotion of Galego.595 However, they struggled to gain traction with their fellow co-ethnics, whose mixed attitudes towards the language were reflected in changes in their linguistic repertoires and scant participation in non-violent contestation.

Starting in 1939, the newly established dictatorship sought to transform Spain into a

“culturally and linguistically uniform” state by repressing regional languages.596 While there was no explicit ban on Galego, Spanish was the only language permitted in public, for purposes of governance, religious worship, education, broadcasting, etc.597 Additionally, the Francoist regime employed propaganda to reinforce the notion that Galego was a bastardized version of Spanish rather than a language in its own right.598 On top of the state-wide campaign titled, “Si eres español, habla español” (If you are Spanish, speak Spanish), pamphlets distributed in Galicia in the mid-

1950s also read: “Speak properly. Be patriotic. Do not be barbaric. It is the gentleman’s obligation to speak our official language, that is, Castilian.”599 Portrayals of Galego in the media mocked the

594Beswick, Regional Nationalism in Spain: Language Use and Ethnic Identity in Galicia, 69. 595Henderson, “Language and Identity in Galicia: The Current Orthographic Debate,” 245. 596Ibid., 244. 597Fernando Ramallo, “Sociolinguistics of Spanish in Galicia,” International Journal of the Sociology of Language 184 (2007). 598Manuel Portas Fernández, Língua e sociedade na Galiza (A Coruña: Bahía, 1997), 120. 599Translated by Bernadette O’Rourke, Galician and Irish in the European Context: Attitudes Towards Weak and Strong Minority Languages (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 53. Originally in Portas Fernández, Língua e sociedade na Galiza, 121. 192 poverty and ignorance of its speakers.600 This framing by the state hearkened back to the association of Galego with backwardness. Moreover, it signaled that the use of Galego was a sign of disloyalty. Galicians who spoke their native language in public did so in defiance of the regime and were often subject to ridicule and harassment.601

Even prior to the rise of Franco, many Galicians faced an incentive structure that favored

Spanish over Galego. The former was the language of the elites and the upwardly mobile; it offered better opportunities to those who remained in Galicia, as well as the million or so Galicians that emigrated to different regions of Spain, Argentina, Cuba, Mexico and other Spanish-speaking destinations.602 Galego, on the other hand, lacked a standard form and had virtually no utility outside of Galician peasant communities. The Francoist regime tipped the scale further in the same direction by mandating the use of Spanish in the public realm, while the accompanying rhetoric built on the pre-existing stigma and sense of inferiority associated with Galego. In other words, its repression of Galego reinforced and accelerated the process by which a majority of Galicians adopted Spanish.603

Several additional factors shaped the impact of Francoist policies and propaganda on the

Galicians and their linguistic repertoires. Firstly, the capacity of the dictatorship to police language use in Galicia was limited by its remoteness and poor infrastructure, and possibly a lack of enthusiasm on the part of Franco, who had been born and raised there.604 Also, unlike the Catalans and Basques, the Galicians did not have to contend with an influx of Spanish-speaking immigrants

600Carme Hermida, “The Galician Speech Community,” in Multilingualism in Spain: Sociolinguistic and Psycholinguistic Aspects of Linguistic Minority Groups, ed. M. Teresa Turell (Clevedon: Multilingualism Matters Ltd, 2001), 120. 601O’Rourke, “The Galician Language in the Twenty-First Century.”; Marbán, “The Current Status of Galician in Spain.” 602Villares, A Historia, 147-149. 603Ramallo, “Sociolinguistics of Spanish in Galicia.” 604Beswick, Regional Nationalism in Spain: Language Use and Ethnic Identity in Galicia, 69. 193 to their region, which helped keep the linguistic distribution in Galicia stable for the most part.

That said, the Franco years were a period of moderate development for Galicia, including a decline in its reliance on agriculture, the emergence of new industries, and urbanization.605 Increasingly,

Galicians from rural areas opted to migrate within the region for work, settling in cities like A

Coruña, Vigo, and Ferrol where proficiency in Spanish was common and expected. Additionally, improved access to education and media across Galicia—delivered exclusively in Spanish— exposed more of the population to the language.606

Augmented by the socioeconomic changes taking place in Galicia, the consequences of

Francoist repression were as follows. Rural Galicians were minimally affected; they went on using

Galego, certainly in private but also in public in more remote areas.607 At the same time, a growing demographic of rural-to-urban migrants embraced Spanish. Some of them passed it on to their children, who also attended Spanish-language schools.608 The immediate result was an increase in bilingualism, or more specifically, a precipitous drop in Galego monolingualism.609 By 1947, just

32% of the Galician population spoke Galego exclusively—less than half of the figure reported in

1924 (over 70%). The percentage of bilinguals more than doubled over the course of the same period, rising from 22% in 1924 to 58% in 1947.610 Additionally, Spanish became more of a habitual language, particularly for the middle and upper classes in Galicia.611 A year prior to the death of Franco and the end of the dictatorship, over 82% of the Galician population were capable of speaking Spanish, with 60% professing to speak only or mostly Spanish. At the same time, the

605O’Rourke, “The Galician Language in the Twenty-First Century.” 606Ibid. 607Pérez-Barreiro Nolla, “Which Language for Galicia? The Status of Galician as an Official Language and the Prospects for its ‘Reintegration’ with Portuguese.” 608Ramallo, “Sociolinguistics of Spanish in Galicia.” 609Ibid. 610Fernández Rodríguez and Rodríguez Neira, eds., Usos lingüísticos en Galicia: Compendio do II volume do mapa sociolingüistico de Galicia, 53. 611Regueira, “Política y lengua en Galicia: La ”normalización” de la llengua gallega,” 64. 194 percentage of Galego speakers remained high at about 80%.612 It should be noted that, since there was little to no immigration to Galicia, the reported numbers reflect the linguistic repertoires of ethnic Galicians.613

These trends can be understood in the context of ambivalent language centrality in Galician identity, that is to say, their high rate of proficiency in Galego and mixed attitudes towards the language. Galego survived the Franco years in large part owing to its advantageous starting position. As a reminder, more than 90% of Galicians spoke the language prior to the Civil War, and most of them were monolingual.614 Overall proficiency in Galego did decline under the dictatorship, but only by 10%. However, Galicians whose habitual language was Galego became the minority in their region at approximately 40%, as the number of monolingual Spanish speakers continued to rise.615 Despite the fact that most Galicians still spoke their native language in some capacity, mainly in the home and other informal settings, they increasingly preferred Spanish.

To summarize, this accelerating language shift among the Galicians was the product of an incentive structure that benefitted Spanish, buoyed by Francoist policies and propaganda that touted its primacy over regional languages. The latter rhetoric resonated with the Galicians because of their negative perceptions of Galego, which predated the dictatorship. According to attitudinal surveys taken in the early 1990s, Galicians who came of age during the Franco years (aged 41 and older at that point) were considerably more likely to state that Spanish had greater utility than

612Fernández Rodríguez and Rodríguez Neira, eds., Usos lingüísticos en Galicia: Compendio do II volume do mapa sociolingüistico de Galicia, 53. 613Richard Gunther, Politics and Culture in Spain, Politics and Culture Series #5 (Ann Arbor: Center for Political Studies, Institute of Social Research, The University of Michigan, 1988), 33. 614Fernández Rodríguez and Rodríguez Neira, eds., Usos lingüísticos en Galicia: Compendio do II volume do mapa sociolingüistico de Galicia, 53. 615Counting the percentage of Galicians who only spoke Galego (17.7%) and the ones who claimed to speak “more Galego than Spanish” (22%) in 1974, for a total of just under 40%. See: Ibid. 195

Galego, and to indicate that Spanish was the appropriate language of instruction in schools.616

These results reflect internalized prejudice against Galego among respondents who had been exposed to the aforementioned propaganda surrounding the language issue. In the absence of outright coercion, mixed attitudes towards Galego predisposed the Galicians to alter their linguistic repertoires to include and favor Spanish.

So, did the Francoist regime pose an existential threat to the Galicians? While it did not target them for physical harm (with the exception of the Galicianists at the end of the Civil War), the marginalization of Galego in the public realm meant that its speakers were excluded from employment opportunities, particularly in sectors that developed during the dictatorship—like the service industries in Galicia, for example.617 In practice, the vast majority of Galicians were able to adapt to the repression of their native language by adding Spanish to their linguistic repertoires.618 The 17% or so of the Galician population who were still monolingual in Galego in

1974 were somewhat out of reach of the central Spanish state, residing in remote rural areas and working traditional jobs (farming, fishing, etc.).619 Coincidentally, in 1975, agriculture accounted for approximately 17% of the Galician economy.620 In the years 1964-1975, unemployment in

Galicia averaged at 2.3%, only slightly higher than the national rate (2.1%) and considerably higher than in Catalonia (1.19%) and the Basque Country (0.98%).621 Even so, it was far from the highest of all the regions in Spain. These figures help explain why many Galicians preferred to

616Mauro A. Fernández Rodríguez and Modesto A. Rodríguez Neira, eds., Actitudes lingüísticas en Galicia: Compendio do III volume do mapa sociolingüistico de Galicia (Vigo: Real Academia Galega, Seminario de Sociolingüística, 1996), 130, 144, 202. 617O’Rourke, “The Galician Language in the Twenty-First Century.”; Máiz and Losada, “Institutions, Policies, and Nation Building: The Galician Case.” 618Fernández Rodríguez and Rodríguez Neira, eds., Usos lingüísticos en Galicia: Compendio do II volume do mapa sociolingüistico de Galicia, 53. 619Ibid; Pérez-Barreiro Nolla, “Which Language for Galicia? The Status of Galician as an Official Language and the Prospects for its ‘Reintegration’ with Portuguese.” 620By percentage of gross value added (GVA). See: Máiz and Losada, “Institutions, Policies, and Nation Building: The Galician Case.” 621Pérez, Goerlich, and Mas, Capitalización y crecimiento en España y sus regiones 1955-1995, 179. 196 emigrate elsewhere, but do not support the assertion that they were barred from access to the workforce. The majority of Galicians managed to circumvent the restrictions placed on Galego by shifting to Spanish.

Though it did not endanger Galician lives in the physical sense, the regime posed a threat to Galician-ness by undermining the principal marker of Galician identity. Franco’s Spanish-only mandate hindered the intergenerational transmission of Galego and jeopardized the survival of the language in the long term. However, it was not necessarily perceived as a threat by the Galicians themselves.622 They were able to continue using Galego with family and friends—a practice to which they were well-accustomed, as it was primarily an oral language. In effect, Francoist policies codified the diglossic dynamic that had been in place since before the dictatorship, wherein Galego was ‘low’ and colloquial, and Spanish was the ‘high’ and proper language for obtaining an education, conducting business, etc. Additionally, the absence of Spanish-speaking immigrants to compete with the local population for jobs and other opportunities likely alleviated any sense of threat to the Galicians and Galego.

Ultimately, the ambivalent centrality of language in Galician identity helps explain why the Galicians were relatively quick to adopt Spanish, despite the fact that the majority of them spoke Galego. That paired with the absence of a perceived threat to the Galicians accounts for their unwillingness to partake in contestation against the dictatorship, both violent and non-violent. The following section elaborates on how the Galicianist movement tried to resist Franco, first through cultural promotion centered around Galego (Piñeirismo), then by attempting to form a mass movement with a violent contingent (UPG). Neither of these efforts yielded much support from their target audience, who preferred to adapt and not push back on the repression of their language.

622Pérez-Barreiro Nolla, “Which Language for Galicia? The Status of Galician as an Official Language and the Prospects for its ‘Reintegration’ with Portuguese.” 197

7.4 Piñeirismo and the Absence of Contestation

The outcome of the Civil War proved devastating for the Galicianists, leaving the majority of their leaders dead, imprisoned, underground or exiled. Those who were able to flee the country sought to control the movement from abroad.623 In 1944, a number of Galicianists headed by

Alfonso Rodríguez Castelao formed the Consello de Galiza (Council of Galicia), an organization that purported to act as the Galician government in exile, drawing their authority from the 1936

Estatuto de Autonomía. Like other nationalist organizations operating vis-a-vis Spain at the time, the Consello de Galiza anticipated the swift removal of Franco and reinstatement of the Second

Republic, but soon realized this would not come to pass. Moreover, the organization struggled to exert influence in Galicia, even under the leadership of Castelao who was a prominent Galicianist figure. This was partly due to their ideological and strategic disagreements with forces in the

Galician interior, and partly because the Consello de Galiza was based far away in South America, unlike the exiled Catalan ERC and Basque PNV which were situated much closer to their respective territories. The death of Castelao in 1950 weakened the organization further, leaving the future of Galicianism in the hands of those on the ground in Galicia, namely Piñeiro.624

Ramón Piñeiro was a Galicianist thinker and operative who had worked closely with

Partido Galeguista prior to the Civil War, and helped to re-establish the organization in Galicia in

1943. For this activity, he was imprisoned by the Francoist regime from 1946-1949.625 Upon his release, Piñeiro resumed control over the Galicianist movement in Galicia. He did not believe that

Consello de Galiza had a legitimate mandate to represent the Galician people, and instead claimed

623Xosé M. Núñez Seixas, “Orígenes, desarrollo y mutaciones del nacionalismo gallego (1840-1982),” in Les nationalismes en Espagne: De l'etat libéral a l'etat des autonomies (1876-1978), ed. Francisco Campuzano Carvajal (Montpellier: Presses Universitaires de la Méditerranée, 2002), 331-365. 624Ibid. 625Fermí Rubiralta Casas, De Castelao a Mao, O novo nacionalismo radical galego (1959-1974): Orixes, configuración e desenvolvemento inicial da U.P.G. (Santiago de Compostela: Edicións Laiovento, 1998), 23-29. 198 that the right to dictate a course of action belonged to those who remained in the region.626 With his guidance, the Galicianists in Galicia embraced an approach that was relatively conservative, both in values and in strategy. Having experienced political imprisonment, Piñeiro sought to limit their operations to what was legally permissible under the Franco regime.627 The movement thus turned its focus to cultural reproduction, and more specifically to Galego. From 1950 onwards, the new centers of Galicianist activity in Galicia were the Galego-language publishing house Editorial

Galaxia and the cultural magazine Grial, in a manner reminiscent of the prewar era Nós and A

Nosa Terra. At the same time, the role of Partido Galeguista was greatly reduced. This depoliticized version of Galicianism that predominated in the Galician interior came to be known as Piñeirismo.628

Galicianist forces in and out of the region soon found themselves at odds with one another.

The exiled Galicianists led by Castelao were more socially progressive and eventually embraced independence as a goal, whereas Piñeiro held conservative views, argued for “a federal alternative” to Galician independence, and believed in taking advantage of available avenues for cultural expression, in order to sustain a differentiated national consciousness among the Galicians.629 That said, the two did not disagree on the importance of Galego. In his seminal work “Sempre en

Galiza” (Forever in Galicia), Castelao specified that language was the preeminent ethnic attribute that characterized a nation.630 Similarly, Piñeiro wrote: “If we are distinguished as a particular unit among the European family, it is so thanks to the language. [...] What truly distinguishes us, what gives us a defined and characterized personality in front of others is the language, that is, the spirit,

626Ramón Piñeiro, “Consello de Galicia,” Grial 111 (1991). 627Ramón Piñeiro, “Balance do noso labor,” Grial 111 (1991). 628Fermí Rubiralta Casas, El nuevo nacionalismo radical: Los casos gallego, catalán y vasco (1959-1973) (Donostia: Tercera Prensa-Hirugarren Prentsa S.L., 1997), 23-27. 629Ibid. 630Alfonso Daniel Rodríguez Castelao, Sempre en Galiza, vol. 2 (Madrid: Akal, 1977), 429. 199 this spirit that is genuinely ours that is faithfully reflected in the Galician language.”631 Piñeirismo was dedicated almost entirely to the preservation and promotion of the latter. Despite their differences, both of the ethnic entrepreneurs and their respective organizations opted for frames of

Galician identity that placed Galego front and center.

However, the strictly cultural focus of Piñeirismo exacerbated the rift between the

Galicianists. Those in exile were frustrated with what they perceived as “Galaxian apoliticism”.632

Still, Piñeiro and his supporters maintained the upper hand in Galicia. Editorial Galaxia and Grial precipitated a slow awakening of Galician culture by resuming publications in Galego, which had stopped completely for the duration of the war and through the early Franco years.633 Their literary accomplishments resonated mostly with fellow intellectuals and university students and did not have much of an impact on ordinary Galicians. Piñeiro did not believe in direct or overtly political action under the conditions of Francoist repression, even when engaging in activities that challenged the regime.634 For example, in 1954 he authored a report on the “persecution of the

Galician language by the Spanish state” to be presented before UNESCO.635 Top avoid making a political statement, Piñeiro disguised the report as an appeal on behalf of Galician émigrés on the

American continent looking to assert their basic right to culture. This, he believed, would increase its effectiveness.636 His commitment to de-politicizing Galicianism meant that the movement, under his direction, did not attempt to rally the masses in support of their cause, even as a growing class of Galician workers was rapidly and forcefully mobilizing around labor issues.637 The

631Ramón Piñeiro, Olladas no futuro (Vigo: Editorial Galaxia, 1974), 42. 632Rubiralta Casas, El nuevo nacionalismo radical: Los casos gallego, catalán y vasco (1959-1973), 26-27. 633Ibid.; Pérez-Barreiro Nolla, “Which Language for Galicia? The Status of Galician as an Official Language and the Prospects for its ‘Reintegration’ with Portuguese.” 634Rubiralta Casas, El nuevo nacionalismo radical: Los casos gallego, catalán y vasco (1959-1973), 31. 635Xesús Alonso Montero, “Algo maís sobre a ‘Batalla de Montevideo’: Cinco documentos importantes,” Grial 163 (2004). 636Ibid. 637Rubiralta Casas, El nuevo nacionalismo radical: Los casos gallego, catalán y vasco (1959-1973), 101-104. 200 avoidance of outright protest can be attributed to Piñeiro himself, whose conservatism, personal experience with political imprisonment, and genuine belief that the way forward was to

‘overcome’ nationalism and focus on the Galicianization of society, all served to steer Piñeirismo away from most forms of contestation.638

As this section makes clear, the Galicianists in Galicia and in exile alike focused their frames of Galician identity and appeals to co-ethnics on Galego. Considering the ambivalent centrality of Galego, this language-centric approach was both realistic and aspirational. On the one hand, most Galicians were speakers of Galego, and this set them apart from other ethnic groups.

On the other hand, the Galicianists seemed aware that their shared ethnic trait, which had survived up until that point, might be lost in the long term if they did not bolster the status of Galego and curb the accelerating language shift among their fellow co-ethnics. Their approach is reflected in the following statement by Piñeiro:

“They could, in a great historical storm, burn all the documents of our past without leaving one; they could rob us of economic goods and condemn us to greater poverty; they could violently shock our entire social structure; they could, if they wanted to, imprison thousands or tens of thousands of our brothers... However, while the words of the Galician language resound on our lips with all their intimate cadence, Galicia will continue to be a people, an indestructible spiritual brotherhood.”639

In other words, they did not worry about an existential threat to Galician lives, and did not attempt to cultivate this perception among the Galician public. Instead, there was a concern for their distinguishing trait and the implications of its gradual erosion. The survival of Galego was integral to the survival of the Galicians as an ethnic group. Mixed attitudes towards the language presented an obstacle in this regard. Operating in a system that demanded its subjects be proficient in

638Núñez, “National Reawakening Within a Changing Society: The Galician Movement in Spain (1960-97).” 639Piñeiro, Olladas no futuro, 42-43. 201

Spanish, the Galicianists understood that they had to address the negative perceptions of Galego, which predisposed their fellow co-ethnics to not only add Spanish to their linguistic repertoires out of necessity, but to favor it over their native language.

Piñeiro and his supporters believed that the way to address this problem was to recover the reputation of Galego as a language of literature and poetry, and use it as a vehicle to communicate the fundamentals of Galicianism. The aforementioned publications featured everything from novels to literary criticism to Galician history to proposed rules of Galego grammar, in the hopes of increasing the legitimacy and value of the language in the eyes of its native speakers and instilling in them a sense of national consciousness. Their activities were limited to these cultural avenues, in addition to a few rare instances of low-level and covert defiance of the restrictions placed on Galego, as exemplified by the UNESCO appeal. That is to say, their engagement in non- violent contestation was minimal, and did not entail rallying the Galician masses against the

Francoist regime. It is therefore difficult to gauge the impact on member attitudes or the potential for mobilization among the Galicians. The following decade of Piñeirismo (1960s) did see an expansion of cultural activity in Galicia, with numerous cultural associations cropping up across the region, and fostered a new generation of Galicianists who wished to do more for the sake of defending their language as well as challenging the Spanish state.640 The following section examines this phenomenon more closely.

7.5 Unión do Pobo Galego (1963-1997)

The previous sections examine the ways in which the material conditions in Galicia served to preserve proficiency in Galego while also undermining its status, which placed the language in

640Rubiralta Casas, El nuevo nacionalismo radical: Los casos gallego, catalán y vasco (1959-1973), 105. 202 a position of ambivalent centrality vis-a-vis Galician identity. Mixed attitudes towards Galego help explain why the Galicianists before and after the Civil War focused the majority of their efforts on language promotion, as well as the tepid response to these efforts on the part of the Galician public.

The latter still spoke Galego, but were increasingly willing to adopt and even replace their native language with Spanish. The refusal of Ramón Piñeiro to expand operations beyond the cultural sphere was a source of resentment for young Galicianists who, emboldened by radical left-wing ideologies, were eager to mobilize against Francoist repression. This section details their attempts to form a Galicianist popular front and their brief experience with violent contestation.

The Galician People’s Union, or Unión do Pobo Galego (UPG), originated from a literary collective by the name of Brais Pinto.641 The collective was one of many cultural organizations that emerged starting in the late 1950s alongside rapidly growing student associations and workers’ commissions across Spain, all of which were formed illegally and in opposition to Franco.642

Fittingly, the membership of Brais Pinto was made up of a mix of Galician university students and workers who had spent time outside of the region (mainly in Madrid) and made contact with

Galicianists in exile. The latter exposed Brais Pinto to Marxist ideas and encouraged them to be critical of the evolution of Galicianism in the Galician interior, particularly the conservative and apolitical Piñeirismo.643 By 1963, many within the literary collective openly expressed the need for a “political formation of the Galicianist and socially progressive persuasion”, and went on to found UPG that same year.644

641‘Brais Pinto’ referred to a fictional character who was “symbolic of Galicia”. See: Christopher Herman George, “Brais Pinto: A Short History of the Galician ‘Beat’ Generation,” 452℉: Revista de Teoría de la Literatura y Literatura Comparada 16 (2017). 642Núñez, “National Reawakening Within a Changing Society: The Galician Movement in Spain (1960-97).” 643Rubiralta Casas, El nuevo nacionalismo radical: Los casos gallego, catalán y vasco (1959-1973), 40-44. 644Ibid., 106. 203

Originally, UPG was to serve as a broad front for a number of organizations and parties, united in their conception of the Galicians as a nation deserving of recognition and liberation.645

Though their initial program was rather vaguely and conservatively aimed at “a free Galicia within a federal peninsular union”, it also reflected a Marxist outlook, stating: “history has sufficiently demonstrated that the emancipation of Galicia cannot be left in the hands of the capitalists”.

Instead, their liberation was to be “rooted in the aspirations of the people”, specifically the working class. Interestingly, the original UPG constitution did not mention the Galician language or offer any basis for their claim of nationhood, though it was written in Galego. It did, however, frame the formation of UPG as a response to a threat with the following statement: “Galicia is destined to disappear if the right action that the times require for its salvation is not carried out”.646

Also in 1963, UPG briefly joined the umbrella organization Consello de Mocedade (Youth

Council). In this new setting, their young and progressive members were outnumbered by moderates and supporters of Piñeiro. Shortly thereafter, the leadership of Consello de Mocedade expelled UPG from their midst.647 This brief but tumultuous experience served to radicalize the

UPG core, both in terms of their ideology and the determination to overcome the apolitical culturalism that had characterized Galicianism up until that point. In 1964, the reconstituted UPG began to publish their periodical Terra e Tempo (Land and Time). Its first edition listed “Os Dez

Puntos da Unión do Pobo Galego”, the ten central points that made up the organization’s new political program.648 To further distance themselves from Piñeirismo, UPG included a picture of

645The original 1963 document titled “Constitucion da Unión do Pobo Galego” was reproduced in part in the fifth edition of Terra e Tempo, their principal publication. See: Unión do Pobo Galego, “Constitucion da Unión do Pobo Galego,” Terra e Tempo 5 (1966), 2. 646Ibid. 647Rubiralta Casas, El nuevo nacionalismo radical: Los casos gallego, catalán y vasco (1959-1973), 107-110. 648Alberto Martín de Hijas, “Buscando… a política,” in 1968 en Compostela: 16 Testemuños, ed. Ricardo Gurriarán (Santiago de Compostela: Servizo de Publicacións e Intercambio da Universidade de Santiago de Compostela, 2013), 234. 204

Castelao and referred to “Sempre en Galiza” as the doctrine underpinning their approach to

Galicianism.649

Like the 1963 UPG constitution, “Dez Puntos” (Ten Points) opens by asserting that Galicia is a nation with the right to govern itself. In subsequent reprints, the document included the reasoning behind this assertion, which affirmed the relevance of Galego to Galician nationhood.

“We are certain that Galicia has a language and a territory of its own, different economic needs… and, without a doubt, we have a ‘psychology’, a way of being… that contrast vividly with that of the rest of Spain. [...] We are, therefore, a nation”.650 The message is reiterated in the ninth point of the “Dez Puntos”, wherein UPG calls for Galego to be recognized as the official and mandatory language of Galicia. “Language is the fundamental characteristic that distinguishes a nationality,” reads the text, echoing Castelao.651 The document further states that the goal is for Galego to become the habitual language of the entire Galician population. Hence, all official documents in

Galicia are to be written (or translated into) Galego, and its study permitted for native speakers and required of those whose mother tongue is Spanish.652

More significantly, “Dez Puntos” argues that an “immense or absolute majority” of UPG’s target audience—explicitly identified as the “pobo traballador” (working people) of Galicia—are speakers of Galego.653 The document even addresses the skewed dynamic between Galego and

Spanish. It explains that the middle classes and bourgeoise in Galicia “speak the official language, that of the anti-Galician state” as an “external symbol of their social superiority”, resulting in a

649Unión do Pobo Galego, “Unión do Pobo Galego (U.P.G): Un frente que se propon a todolos galegos que aceiten os seguintes 10 principios minimos”, Terra e Tempo 1 (1964). 650This longer version of the “Dez Puntos” elaborates that they are employing the Stalinist criteria for what constitutes a nation: having its own language and territory, a differentiated economy, and “particular psychological habits reflected in a community of culture”. See: Unión do Pobo Galego, Os Dez Puntos da Unión do Pobo Galego (Santiago de Compostela: Edicións Terra e Tempo, 1964). 651Ibid. 652Ibid. 653Ibid. 205

“linguistic inferiority complex” surrounding Galego.654 To achieve political and social liberation, the Galicians must be freed of this complex—a cause to which UPG would contribute, starting with the decision to publish all of their propaganda materials in Galego.655

Considering that “Dez Puntos” was a foundational document for UPG, its contents reveal a great deal about their approach to Galego in their early years as an organization. Like other

Galicianists before them, UPG centered their framing of Galician identity on Galego, citing the language as the basis of demands for Galician self-determination, and professing to advocate on behalf of Galego speakers. They expressed their concern for the suffering status of Galego as a result of living under “Castilian imperialism” and declared that they would tackle the negative perceptions of Galego among their fellow co-ethnics as part of their political program.656 However,

UPG did not attempt to argue that the Galicians were faced with an existential threat. Despite explicitly anchoring their claim of Galician nationhood in the language and acknowledging the sense of inferiority that plagues working class Galego speakers and prevents their “liberation”, the organization refrained from connecting the two, or suggesting that the long-term survival of

Galego and the Galicians—as people or ‘a people’—were at stake.657

Apart from their expressly Galicianist stance, UPG were also staunch Marxists, writing:

“our nationalism will never lead us to accept a Galicia that is […] bourgeoise in its structure”.658

The organization purported to represent the Galician pobo traballador, which consisted of “the proletariat, peasantry, and sailors” that made up 90% of the population in Galicia.659 In fact, most of the “Dez Puntos” were dedicated to articulating their radical socialist vision for Galicia, via

654Unión do Pobo Galego, Os Dez Puntos da Unión do Pobo Galego. 655Ibid. 656Ibid. 657Ibid. 658Ibid. 659Ibid. 206 lengthy discussions of agricultural collectivization, socialization of major industries, and a proposed overhaul of the administrative apparatus in Galicia. In this particular area, UPG had a significant advantage over their Catalan and Basque equivalents. The previous chapters in this dissertation demonstrate that radical left-wing ethnic organizations in Catalonia and the Basque

Country struggled to reconcile their nationalist and socialist aspirations, as they appealed to different audiences. The working classes in these regions were not made up of co-ethnics for the most part, but of Spanish-speaking immigrants. In Galicia, the two coincided; the pobo traballador was overwhelmingly native to Galicia and Galego-speaking. Thus, UPG faced fewer obstacles when appealing to their fellow Galicians for support of their dual agenda.

A final insight to be gleaned from “Dez Puntos” concerns strategy. In discussing their pursuit of a “free and socialist Galicia”, UPG acknowledged that “external forces”—namely “US imperialism” and Spain—would never allow Galicia to transition peacefully. “Violence must be exercised to deliver our country into the luminous future of socialism”, as “socialism can only be implanted by [way of] an armed struggle of liberation”, they wrote.660 Additionally, the authors of the document noted the importance of amplifying the “historical consciousness of the people” as well as “popular participation” amongst an ever-growing mass of Galicians.661 In other words, from the very outset, UPG confirmed their intent to engage in violent contestation as part of their political program, and to mobilize the Galician people for the purpose of seizing control of the repressive apparatus of the state. That said, this strategy was not rooted in an existential threat to the Galicians, but instead framed as a response to threats against socialism posed by their enemies,

“the capitalist class” and “people of fascist and anti-socialist ideologies”.662

660Unión do Pobo Galego, Os Dez Puntos da Unión do Pobo Galego. 661Ibid. 662Ibid. 207

Seizing upon their ability to pursue a combined Galicianist and socialist agenda without contradiction, UPG came to prominence through their involvement in the Galician labor movement. In 1966, UPG took part in a series of protests against the construction of a dam by

Spanish energy company FENOSA in Castrelo do Miño, a small municipality in the province of

Ourense.663 The dam was met with widespread opposition from local farmers, who were incensed about the loss of valuable agricultural land to flooding. UPG militants were instrumental in organizing the protests and later defending protesters arrested for sedition.664 It was then that the organization first attempted violent contestation by forming “tercios de asalto” (assault brigades) made up of their own militants and affected farmers, to burn down FENOSA facilities in the area.665

UPG frequently lent support to strikes and other mobilization efforts by Galician workers, which peaked in 1972. Their willingness to engage with labor issues was particularly beneficial in terms of increasing public awareness of the aforementioned dual agenda and attracting recruits.666

In addition to growth in their ranks, UPG saw an uptick in “street activism”, including the distribution of propaganda pamphlets and stickers, as well as graffiti featuring their slogans, “por unha Galicia ceibe e socialista” (For a Free and Socialist Galicia) and “libertade para Galicia”

(Freedom for Galicia), and symbols (a clockwise spiral shape and the UPG initials).667

However, the public nature of these activities also made UPG a target of the Spanish state.

The latter would identify UPG militants who were involved in organizing protests alongside workers’ commissions, track their meetings, and detain them. Some militants were imprisoned

663Martín de Hijas, “Buscando… a política,” 234. 664Unión do Pobo Galego, Embalse Non, Xusticia Si (Santiago de Compostela: UPG, 1965); Cilia Torna, “Aquel Día da Patria Galego de 1966,” Nòs Diario, 25 July 2016. 665Unión do Pobo Galego, “As Nosas Pubricacions,” Terra e Tempo 5 (1966). 666Rubiralta Casas, El nuevo nacionalismo radical: Los casos gallego, catalán y vasco (1959-1973), 194-207. 667Ibid., 121-125, 198-199; Cilia Torna, “‘Libertade para Galicia’: A represión contra o nacionalismo,” Nòs Diario, 23 December 2017. 208 while others were expelled from the country, unable to return for several years.668 These waves of repression throughout the late 1960s and early 1970s took a toll on the organization, prompting a reshuffling of its ranks as well as further ideological radicalization.669 Issues of Terra e Tempo from this period reflect a stronger Maoist influence, and include additional discussions of “a violent or armed stage” in the struggle for a Galician “national-popular revolution”.670 After a series of escalating confrontations between Francoist police and striking workers in the city of

Ferrol in 1972, UPG reiterated the need for an “armed detachment” to counter state-sanctioned repression.671 Over the course of the following few years, UPG worked on establishing relations with various left-wing nationalist organizations looking to challenge Francoist Spain and other

European governments, including ETA.672 It was the Basque organization that helped facilitate their brief foray into violent contestation.

The Frente Armada (Armed Front) of UPG originated in 1974, under the leadership of

Xosé Ramón ‘Moncho’ Reboiras Noia, a young, high-ranking militant of the organization known for his involvement in efforts to mobilize Galician workers.673 Originally, the Frente Armada was to be made up of “commandos” tasked with protecting militants who were in charge of the dissemination of propaganda materials.674 Several UPG militants had been imprisoned for such activities in the past, and in the aftermath of the labor strikes and protests of 1972, the organization was the subject of increased police surveillance. In December 1974, the Frente Armada first tried their hand at robbery—a practice common among armed organizations in Catalonia and the Basque

Country looking to finance their activities. The target was a bank in a small village in Lugo

668Torna, “Aquel Día da Patria Galego de 1966.” 669Rubiralta Casas, El nuevo nacionalismo radical: Los casos gallego, catalán y vasco (1959-1973), 191-194. 670Unión do Pobo Galego, “O noso nacionalismo,” Terra e Tempo 2, no. 1 (1969). 671Unión do Pobo Galego, “Editorial,” Terra e Tempo (September 1972). 672Rubiralta Casas, El nuevo nacionalismo radical: Los casos gallego, catalán y vasco (1959-1973), 200-202. 673Ibid., 203. 674Ibid., 210. 209 province, which yielded an even smaller amount of money than expected, owing to the incompetence of the robbers.675 The Madrid-based newspaper Informaciones later attributed the attack to Moncho Reboiras and another individual.676 A biography of the former mentions several other such “victimless actions” designed to obtain funds and equipment to facilitate their clandestine operations.677

In early July of the following year, ETA-pm sent several of their militants to Galicia to assist with UPG Frente Armada operations. Together, they successfully broke into government offices in Lugo and stole 4,000 blank identity cards for the purpose of falsifying passports and other documents.678 The following month, local police received a tip that ETA militants had been spotted in the area, and proceeded to track and detain them. Based on information obtained in interrogations, the Guardia Civil raided a number of safe houses across Galicia where UPG militants routinely gathered, produced propaganda, and stored weapons. Three of these militants— active members of the Frente Armada—were present at a safe house in Ferrol when the Guardia

Civil surrounded them. The militants attempted to escape; two got away, but the third was shot and killed by the Guardia Civil. The sole casualty was Moncho Reboiras.679

The events of August 1975 put an end to UPG Frente Armada. Initially, UPG released a statement reaffirming their commitment to armed struggle in defense of the Galician working classes “against the fascist terrorism of the imperialist Spanish state”.680 However, it soon became clear that violent contestation was an unsustainable venture. Even at the height of their activity,

675Rubiralta Casas, De Castelao a Mao, O novo nacionalismo radical galego (1959-1974): Orixes, configuración e desenvolvemento inicial da U.P.G., 188. 676“Descubierto el pacto ETA-UPG en Galicia,” Informaciones, 21 August 1975. 677Núñez, “National Reawakening Within a Changing Society: The Galician Movement in Spain (1960-97).” 678Domínguez, ETA en Cataluña, 36. 679Informaciones, “Descubierto el pacto ETA-UPG en Galicia.” 680Unión do Pobo Galego, Declaración do cumio executivo da UPG: A clase obreira, aos traballadores, aos patriotas galegos (Galicia: UPG, 1975). 210 the Frente Armada numbered no more than twelve militants.681 The Guardia Civil raids and subsequent arrests served a decisive blow to their already limited infrastructure. The statement quote shows that UPG attempted to frame the death of Mocho Reboiras as an example of the existential threat that the Spanish state posed to their target audience, in order to galvanize support for their organization and armed struggle—similarly to what ETA had accomplished with the

Burgos trial. Moncho Reboiras subsequently became the face of the Galicianist struggle, but public sympathy was not enough to revive the Frente Armada.682 The death of Franco just three months later prompted UPG to formally sever their relations with ETA-pm and refocus their efforts on the political arena.683

While the labor movement served as their main strategic priority and recruitment pool,

UPG did not renege on their pursuit of self-determination for Galicia or turn their backs on Galician cultural issues at any point. The organization maintained an active Frente Cultural (Cultural Front) that disseminated propaganda and organized annual rallies to mark Día das Letras Galegas (Day of Galician Literature), and showed particular concern for the status of Galego.684 In a 1973 statement, UPG accused the Spanish state of attempting to destroy the language, which was “the nucleus of Galicia culture”.685 The refusal to recognize the existence of Galego “instilled in the popular consciousness the idea that [it] is useless”, they wrote. The organization argued in favor of officialization, appropriation of mass media for the purpose of linguistic normalization, and mandatory education in Galego at all levels.686 UPG did not support bilingualism, which they

681Raúl Vilas, “Las bombas no hablan gallego,” Libertad Digital, 10 December 2011. 682Perfecto Conde Muruais, “Homenaje al nacionalista gallego Moncho Reboiras,” El País, 12 August 1977. 683Juan Francisco Janeiro, “Los nacionalistas gallegos, por la autodeterminación y en contra de la lucha armada,” El País, 2 July 1980. 684Rubiralta Casas, El nuevo nacionalismo radical: Los casos gallego, catalán y vasco (1959-1973), 206. 685Unión do Pobo Galego and Partido Socialista Galego, Texto conxunto encol de Galicia UPG & PSG (Galicia: Edicións Terra e Tempo, 1973), 9-10. 686Ibid. 211 believed would only slow assimilation and the eventual disappearance of Galego and Galician culture, rather than stop it. Years after the death of Franco, when Galego was well on its way to achieving some form of legal recognition, UPG still actively campaigned against bilingualism.687

This stance in particular demonstrates that the organization was acutely aware that their fellow co- ethnics were rapidly adapting to a system that benefitted speakers of Spanish, a system reinforced by a “popular consciousness” that encouraged them to replace Galego, even if the languages were placed on equal footing. Establishing Galego as the only official language in Galicia was the only way to salvage their culture and national identity in the long term.

Also worth noting, UPG along with other Galicianist organizations did not have much of a say in the process of obtaining autonomy for Galicia. In fact, they were opposed to it. In 1976,

UPG briefly joined an inter-party Galicianist platform that rejected the proposed Spanish

Constitution, including the section that paved a way for Galicia and other regions to become autonomous.688 The platform called for a clean break from Francoism and an alternate constitutional framework that would enable Galicia to achieve self-determination. However, it disbanded shortly thereafter owing to “internal divergences”, leaving UPG on the sidelines of the democratic transition.689 UPG also campaigned against the approval by referendum of the Galician

Estatuto de Autonomía (Statute of Autonomy) in 1980.690 Galicia did obtain autonomy the following year, largely owing to the efforts of fellow nationalists in Catalonia and the Basque

Country who pressured Madrid to expedite the process for all three historical nationalities.691

687Frente Cultural da Asamblea Nacional Popular Galega, 17 de Maio, Día das Letras Galegas: Idioma galego, idioma oficial, non ó bilingüismo!, 1979, poster, 64cm x 45cm, Ourense. https://ddd.uab.cat/record/47444? 688This section of the Spanish Constitution is commonly known as the Estado de las autonomías (State of autonomies). 689Núñez, “National Reawakening Within a Changing Society: The Galician Movement in Spain (1960-97).” 690“El Bloque pide “puerta a puerta” el “no” al Estatuto gallego,” El País, 9 December 1980. 691Núñez, “National Reawakening Within a Changing Society: The Galician Movement in Spain (1960-97).” 212

Though the referendum was a success with more than 70% of the votes cast in favor of the Estatuto, only about 28% of those eligible to vote did so.692

UPG went on to form a political party, the Galician National-Popular Bloc or Bloque

Nacional-Popular Galego (BN-PG) in order to participate in Spanish elections once they resumed, but saw little success. BN-PG won just over 2% of the votes in Galicia in 1977, and less than 6% in 1979.693 Other left-wing Galicianist organizations did not fare much better. According to Núñez

(1997), the various nationalist parties in Galicia won a combined 12% or less of Galician votes in every Spanish general election from 1979 to 1989.694 These disappointing results suggest that

Galician nationalism was a fringe cause. UPG occupied a place of prominence amidst left-wing

Galicianist organizations, but still struggled to garner support from their target audience. Their devotion to the struggle of Galician workers and peasants did not translate into electoral gains— at least not at the Spanish parliamentary level. In regional elections, Galicianist parties collectively won between 12%-25% of the votes from 1981 to 1993.695 BN-PG, which became BNG or Bloque

Nacionalista Galego (Galician Nationalist Block) in 1982, gradually grew their share, peaking at a quarter of the votes cast in the Galician parliamentary elections of 1997.696 By that point, BNG had softened their stance, and no longer couched their demands in imperial-colonialist terms or positioned themselves against Madrid.697 In other words, the Galicians were more inclined to vote for nationalist parties in Galician elections than Spanish ones, and to put their trust in Galicianists

692Núñez, “National Reawakening Within a Changing Society: The Galician Movement in Spain (1960-97).” 693“Elecciones Generales 1977, Resultados por Galicia,” Diario Público, accessed 24 December 2020, https://especiales.publico.es/resultados-elecciones/generales/1977/comunidad/11/galicia; “Elecciones Generales 1979, Resultados por Galicia,” Diario Público, accessed 24 December 2020, https://especiales.publico.es/resultados- elecciones/generales/1979/comunidad/11/galicia 694Núñez, “National Reawakening Within a Changing Society: The Galician Movement in Spain (1960-97).” 695Ibid. 696Ramón Máiz and Cristina Ares, “The Shifting Framing Strategies and Policy Positions of the Bloque Nacionalista Galego,” Nationalism and Ethnic Politics 24, no. 2 (2018). 697Ibid. 213 for the purpose of regional administration, rather than supporting their challenges against the

Spanish state.

As for Galego, the 1981 Estatuto de Autonomía recognized the language as the “lingua propia” (own/proper language) of Galicia, using similar wording to the Catalan and Basque statutes of autonomy that preceded it. The Estatuto also cemented the co-official status of Galego alongside Spanish.698 Additionally, in June 1983, the Galician parliament passed the Lei de normalización lingüística (Law of Linguistic Normalization), effectively elevating the status

Galego and expanding the rights accorded to its speakers in the Estatuto. The text of the Lei stated that Galego was the “vital nucleus of [Galician] identity” and a “legacy of common identity” for the Galicians as a people.699 It further acknowledged the marginalization of Galician culture, and recognized that its stipulations were the first of many steps towards its recuperation. Most significantly, the Lei de normalización lingüística granted Galego speakers protection against discrimination on the basis of their language, codified their right to communicate with Galician authorities in Galego, and established preferential hiring of Galego speakers for a variety of administrative positions. The Lei also included several other clauses aimed at language promotion, such as compulsory education in Galego at all levels barring the university, mandatory use of

Galego by state-affiliated media and subsidies for privately-owned outlets that employ Galego, etc.700 With the passage of the Lei, the regional government of Galicia took concrete steps to legitimize Galego and counter the growing tendency of the Galicians to replace their native language with Spanish.

698“O Estatuto de Autonomía de Galicia: Título Preliminar,” Xunta de Galicia, accessed 23 December 2020, https://www.xunta.gal/estatuto/titulo-preliminar 699Parlamento de Galicia, “Lei 3/1983, do 15 de xuño, de normalización lingüística,” Boletín Oficial do Parlamento de Galicia, no. 128, 30 June 1983, accessed 23 December 2020, http://www.parlamentodegalicia.es/sitios/web/BibliotecaLeisdeGalicia/Lei3_1983.pdf 700Ibid. 214

Applying the theory of language adaptability to the case of UPG, the reasoning behind their mobilization efforts can be attributed to the ambivalent centrality of language in Galician identity.

It comes as no surprise that UPG centered their identity frames on Galego and referred to their co- ethnics as speakers of the language, considering the high levels of proficiency in Galego among the Galician population as a whole—somewhere between 80%-90% for the duration of their existence as an organization under the Franco regime (1963-1975)—and even higher for their target audience, which consisted of the Galician pobo traballador and excluded the upper classes in Galicia, whose members were more likely to speak only Spanish.701 However, UPG also had to grapple with mixed attitudes surrounding Galego, borne out of negative perceptions of the utility of the language, the stigma associated with it, and the comparative socioeconomic benefits of speaking Spanish—all factors that the Francoist regime actively and deliberately reinforced.

The reluctance of UPG to devote all their efforts to elevating the status of Galego is understandable considering the prior evolution of Galicianism under Franco, specifically

Piñeirismo, which was language-centric to the point of political inaction. The organization did maintain a Frente Cultural that engaged in non-violent contestation of the cultural kind, and openly acknowledged that the gradual disappearance of Galego would eliminate their principal ethnic trait and basis for self-determination claims. At the same time, UPG tried their hand at violence, in the hopes of capturing the attention of fellow Galicians with their dual Galicianist and socialist agenda and willingness to act on both causes. However, their support of the workers’ struggle and the martyrdom of Moncho Reboiras were not enough to drum up co-ethnic support, seeing as the majority of Galicians did not share their nationalist aspirations or anti-Spanish sentiments.

701Fernández Rodríguez and Rodríguez Neira, eds., Usos lingüísticos en Galicia: Compendio do II volume do mapa sociolingüistico de Galicia, 53. 215

The tepid response of the Galician public to UPG can also be attributed to ambivalent language centrality. Despite the fact that most Galicians still spoke Galego, approximately 70% of them were also proficient in Spanish by the time the organization emerged in 1963.702 The vast majority of the Galician population had managed to adapt and obtain employment despite the restrictions placed on their native language. Moreover, they preferred Spanish, which sped up the process by which monolingual Galego speakers were replaced with bilinguals, and eventually monolingual Spanish speakers. In 1974, UPG produced their propaganda exclusively in Galego— a language that over half of the Galician population did not habitually speak, and a fifth could no longer understand.703 That is to say, their target audience, ability to communicate with them, and the resonance of their message opposing bilingualism were growing more limited by the day.

Language adaptability paired with mixed attitudes towards Galego meant that fewer

Galicians were willing to take to the streets in support of their native language. Their lack of interest in contestation of any sort was apparent when the autonomy statute came to a referendum as a by-product of the popular struggles in Catalonia and the Basque Country, UPG urged their target audience to vote “no”, and over 70% of Galicians abstained entirely.704 Once Galicia obtained autonomy, rural-dwelling peasants who were monolingual in Galego—a key demographic for the organization—saw their needs met with the officialization of the language and the passage of the Lei de normalización lingüística, which guaranteed their rights as speakers.

Any legal basis for claims that Madrid posed a threat to the Galicians or Galego had been eliminated.

702Fernández Rodríguez and Rodríguez Neira, eds., Usos lingüísticos en Galicia: Compendio do II volume do mapa sociolingüistico de Galicia, 53. 703Ibid. 704Núñez, “National Reawakening Within a Changing Society: The Galician Movement in Spain (1960-97).” 216

7.6 Conclusion

The Galician case is an atypical one for the theory of language adaptability. While the theory offers predictions for language-centric and language-peripheral groups, it does not outline a clear trajectory for groups that score somewhere in the middle. The Galicians behaved more like a language-centric group is expected to, though their interest in inclusion or accommodation of their language and themselves as speakers appeared to be low, and they did not lend any significant support to organizations that made demands on their behalf. Instead, their mixed attitudes towards

Galego led them to pursue socioeconomic mobility by adapting their linguistic repertoires—that is, learning Spanish to get ahead in a system that heavily favored it. This may very well be a realistic expectation of other language-ambivalent groups, wherein proficiency among group members is high but attitudes are mixed. It is difficult to imagine the opposite scenario, in which the number of speakers is low, but attitudes strongly favor the language.

The case reveals the limitations of language centrality as a variable. The central-to- peripheral scale does not adequately capture scenarios such as the one in which the Galicians found themselves. It also demonstrates that an increase in centrality goes not mean a decrease in the likelihood of contestation, violent or non-violent. Instead, language-centric groups may be predisposed to non-violent contestation, language-peripheral groups are better positioned to mount successful violent campaigns, and groups characterized by ambivalent language centrality are less likely than the other two to engage in any type of contestation.

Another way to think about language centrality is as a proxy for the stages that linguistic groups go through as part of a language shift. Groups operating via-a-vis states that do not share their language are at risk of losing their distinguishing trait over time, especially if the state in question adopts policies aimed at standardization. As the Galician case illustrates, ambivalent

217 language centrality thus refers to the point at which attitudes towards the language have taken a downturn as a result of negative perceptions of utility, stigma, and other factors associated with its declining status, but proficiency remains high—though likely not for much longer. Unless action is taken to elevate the status of the language, the group will inevitably become language-peripheral.

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Chapter 8. Conclusion

Having tested the validity of the theory of language adaptability using both quantitative and qualitative methods, this final chapter of the dissertation considers the implications of the findings reported in Chapters 4-7, with the intent of identifying avenues for improvement and further inquiry. The chapter opens with a critical re-examination of the proposed theory and research design, including the conceptualization of the explanatory variable, language centrality in group identity. It then goes on to reflect on the challenges associated with measuring the contents of identity and isolating their effects on conflict from other factors. Finally, the chapter proposes a direction for future studies looking to assess the conflict potential of linguistic groups.

To begin, it is necessary to revisit the logic of language adaptability. According to Chapter

3, language is less ‘sticky’ than other ethnic traits, owing to the fact that linguistic groups lack structure, their members have considerable agency, and the identities they share are normatively thin. As a result, individuals can traverse group boundaries in response to incentives, or to avoid repression on the basis of their language. Taken to its logical conclusion, the adaptability of language suggests that linguistic groups struggle to survive in the long run. While many languages have died out, others have survived through adverse conditions (minority status, lack of formal recognition, policies that privilege certain languages over others, language bans, dialectization, etc.). In fact, every linguistic group still in existence today has dealt with some combination of these. Language has proven sufficiently ‘sticky’ for the entire universe of cases, which calls into question the idea that adaptability necessarily leads to member attrition and the eventual loss of identity and groupness.

How can the reality of linguistic group survival be reconciled with the logic of language adaptability? As the case studies show, factors unrelated to the ethnic trait itself affect the ability

219 of groups to maintain their languages. Geographic isolation and underdevelopment helped shield the Galicians from interference and enabled them to preserve Galego for centuries. On the flip side, economic prosperity can bolster the status of a language, and help counteract the pressure on group members to assimilate to the language of the majority, as exemplified by Català and the

Catalans. Ultimately, the longevity of a linguistic group and its language are determined by a myriad of external factors, some of which affect the language directly, and some that affect the conditions under which groups and languages operate. The existence of such factors does not negate the logic of adaptability.

Overall, it seems that factors that increase contact between groups accelerate the process by which their members adapt. For instance, development breeds infrastructure growth and migratory flows, which means that more groups members interact with non-members, and feel the need to expand their linguistic repertoires. At the same time, factors that elevate the standing of the group (a history of self-rule, control over resources, etc.) also serve to enhance its ability to preserve its language over time, by investing in education and creating job opportunities for its speakers. Ultimately, these factors affect the incentive structure with which group members are faced when deciding whether or not to adapt. They too change over time, which helps explain why some linguistic groups persist, and others flounder. Future studies on the subject should aim to investigate these factors and their effects on the long-term survival of linguistic groups.

Another factor to take into consideration is language distance, which refers to the degree that languages differ from one another. Chapters 2, 3, and 4 all reference cultural distance, establishing its significance in the ethnic conflict literature, and differentiating it from visibility.

These chapters also assert that the latter has greater explanatory power than distance—the causal path linking visibility to conflict is clearer, and there are examples of culturally-proximate groups

220 at odds with one another, which can be explained by the fact that ‘the other’ is more easily identifiable when the cultural distance is lesser. However, the case studies demonstrate the significance of cultural distance (or rather, language distance) regardless of visibility. Specifically, in the Basque case, it appears that language distance played a role in the demise of Euskara.

Català and Galego share a lot of similarities with Spanish, which allowed the Catalans and

Galicians to adapt quickly, and even enabled some Spanish-speaking immigrants to Catalonia to learn Català with relative ease. Not so for the Basques. The lack of mutual intelligibility between

Euskara and Spanish meant that the transition from one language to the other was more difficult.

The Basques could not rely on common elements to facilitate learning in either direction

(‘language transfer’). Even among the Basque nationalists who believed in the importance of preserving their native language, those who had been raised and educated in Spanish struggled to learn Euskara later on. Evidently, the distance between the two languages affected the linguistic repertoires of the Basques in the long term, as well as the role of Euskara in their identity as a group (which, in turn, had an impact on their mobilization for conflict, as discussed in Chapter 6).

Studies of linguistic groups would certainly benefit from a better understanding of how language distance affects intergenerational transmission of minority languages, the prospects for sustained bilingualism, and the implications for conflict.

Also on the subject of the longevity of linguistic groups, the Basque case raises the question: what happens to a linguistic group once its language is lost? In the dissertation, the

Basques are classified as language-peripheral to account for the marginal role of Euskara in their group identity, as evidenced by low proficiency rates among group members. What remains unclear is the point at which a linguistic group goes from being language-peripheral to losing its distinguishing trait entirely, and the implications of that distinction. Chapter 1 notes that ethnic

221 groups without traits are left out of the dissertation. This is not entirely accurate; Section 4.3.1 in

Chapter 4 does include “no trait” groups in its report of descriptive statistics. These include groups whose “measures of distinctiveness” were not coded by AMAR for some of the years reported (for whatever reason), but also groups whose ethnic contents can no longer be easily classified. No discussion of the contents of ethnicity and their implications for conflict is complete without acknowledging the latter. What can be expected of these groups?

The theoretical framework presented in Chapter 3, and the example of the Basques in

Chapter 6 both suggest that linguistic groups for whom language is a marginal factor are not bound by it, in the sense that ethnic organizations within those groups can create frames of identity around other commonalities, and still achieve resonance. One might extend this logic to apply to groups without traits. Even without a clear difference of language, race, or religion, these groups have their myths, territorial attachments, customs, and perhaps even some residual structures that can serve as rallying points. Their capacity for mobilization and conflict may less predictable, but these groups can continue to operate as ethnic groups, particularly when making demands against the state. Once again, the example of the Scottish people comes to mind. Further research on “no trait” groups is needed to shed light on the future of groups whose traits are gradually disappearing or becoming diluted, like the Basques.

Having touched on the subject language-peripheral groups, it is worth revisiting the idea of language centrality in group identity. Conceived in an attempt to quantify the ethnic contents of linguistic groups and account for their variation, language centrality considers the rate of proficiency among group members and their attitudes towards the language. Chapter 3, which introduces language centrality, also acknowledges that it is a murky concept that is difficult to measure with any degree of accuracy. Its flaws become even more apparent in the case study

222 chapters. Though they are primarily focused on establishing the centrality of language in identity frames devised by violent organizations for the purpose of mobilization, these chapters inevitably address the centrality of language in group identity as a background condition, in order to assess the resonance of said frames.

The rate of language proficiency among group members is a rather unambiguous measure, though precise data on differing levels of proficiency (whether the speakers can only speak it, whether they can read and write, etc.) can be scarce, particularly when the state is repressive. This data is relevant for figuring out if a minority language can be used in bureaucracy, education, and other avenues of formal recognition. Measuring attitudes surrounding the language is decidedly less straightforward. If data about proficiency is difficult to find during periods of repression, then attitudinal surveys pose an even bigger challenge, not to mention that they are much more susceptible to bias. On the whole, the dissertation tries to avoid characterizing the attitudes of group members towards their native language in black and white terms, owing to the sensitive nature of the discussion. Instead, the emphasis is on perceptions of prestige and utility, which play a role in promoting attitudes, but do not determine them. At worst, attitudes in the Galician case are described as ‘mixed’ in recognition of the fact that members’ feelings about their identity are a loaded and complex subject.

In addition to these problems of measurement, the case studies reveal that proficiency and attitudes do not carry the same weight when it comes to assessing the conflict potential of a linguistic groups. In fact, it seems that proficiency is more important in determining whether the group will mobilize against the state. Take the Galicians, for example. Chapter 7 classifies them as a case of ambivalent centrality, owing to the fact that the majority of their members spoke

Galego, but saw the language in a negative light, instead preferring Spanish. Their ambivalence

223 towards the language meant that they were less likely to engage in any form of contestation, violent or non-violent. On the other hand, the Basques were language-peripheral because of their low proficiency rates, despite the efforts of ETA to promote Euskara in their early years. In other words, the favorable attitudes of the Basque nationalists (and perhaps also their supporters) were not enough to move the needle on centrality, because so few group members spoke it, and the majority did not consider it a requirement of group membership. As a language-peripheral group, the Basques proved more amenable to violent contestation. So, high proficiency rates appear to be a better predictor of non-violence by linguistic groups than member attitudes.

Finally, the case studies reveal that the relationship between language centrality and contestation is not linear. An increase in centrality does not necessarily correlate to a decrease in the likelihood of mobilization; even though the Catalans are more language-centric than the

Galicians, they appear to have a greater capacity for contestation of a particular kind. Thus, language centrality has limited utility as an explanatory variable of mobilization for contestation.

Proficiency by itself cannot account for the variation in the conflict behaviors of linguistic groups, either. A more sophisticated measure of the contents of ethnicity in group identity is needed— ideally one that takes into consideration proficiency rates and levels, as well as the linguistic practices and preferences of group members.

Alternately, the conclusion of Chapter 7 suggests that language centrality is a measure of the symptoms of language shift, referring to the process by which a group goes from speaking predominantly one language to speaking another. A language-centric group is one for which the shift has not yet begun, or is in its early stages (if the group is bilingual, as the Catalans are), whereas a language-peripheral group is much further along in the process, as indicated by the fact that the majority of its members are no longer proficient in their native language. The goal of future

224 studies should be to investigate the factors that bring about, accelerate/decelerate, or otherwise affect language shift.

Having gone over the problems associated with the theory of language adaptability and language centrality as a variable, the other main topic to address is the research design. One of the principal challenges of the dissertation—and perhaps its greatest downfall—is that it attempts to answer two questions. Part I looks to determine whether linguistic groups engage in lower rates of violent and non-violent contestation compared to racial and religious groups. Part II only examines linguistic groups, in order to show how language curtails their ability to engage in violent contestation. Each of these questions could have served as the basis of its own dissertation. Going forward, an improved version of the statistical analysis in Part I should be paired with case studies of linguistic, racial, and religious groups operating under similar conditions (dealing with the same state, level of repression, socioeconomic conditions), in order to investigate the claim that groups marked by language are indeed less likely to mobilize for contestation, especially considering the weakness of the evidence presented in Chapter 4.

On the subject of statistical analyses, it is necessary to acknowledge their limitations when dealing with ethnic groups. The analysis in Chapter 4 relies on the quantification of group

“distinctiveness”. This approach glosses over the complexity of ethnic differences. Using the example of language, groups vary in terms of the number of speakers among their members, their levels of proficiency, linguistic practice, language distance, etc. Reducing this information to a score on a 3- or 4-point scale erases a good deal of it, making for inaccurate measures and results.

Moreover, the information provided by pre-existing datasets is not foolproof. AMAR codes the

Basques as “0” or “1” on language, the Catalans as “1” or “2”, and data for the Galicians is missing

225 entirely.705 Considering the contents of the case study chapters, it is evident that these scores paint a skewed picture of these groups and their relationships with language.

Ultimately, quantitative methods and measures alone cannot be relied upon to study the contents of ethnic identities. They tend to oversimplify the subject matter and obscure the role of ethnicity in conflict. Future studies of linguistic groups should employ statistical tools alongside case studies, and opt for a more diverse selection of the latter for greater generalizability. The subject of language as the basis of group identity and the implications for conflict remains understudied; this dissertation is a clumsy first step in the direction of unpacking its complex dynamics.

705See Appendix 9.3. 226

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9. Appendix706

9.1 Rebellion

Rebellion is initiated by organizations that claim to represent the group’s interests and directed against the (de-facto) government that claims to exercise authority over the group. The most serious manifestation is reported for each year in which it occurs (or once every five years in the period 1940-1984). These data do not assume that action from one year carries over into the next.

For the purpose of this dissertation, “no basis for judgement” (-99) scores were recoded as missing.

Score Value

0 None reported

1 Political banditry, sporadic terrorism (fewer than 6 events)

2 Campaigns of terrorism (more than 6 events)

3 Local rebellions; armed attempts to seize power in a locale (if they prove to be the opening round in what becomes a protracted guerilla or civil war during the year being coded, code the latter rather than local rebellion)

4 Small scale guerilla activity; includes 3 of the following traits: (a) fewer than 1,000 armed fighters, (b) sporadic armed attacks (less than 6 reported per year), (c) attacks in a small part of the area occupied by the group or in one or two locales

5 Intermediate guerilla activity; includes one or two of the defining traits of large-scale activity and one or two of the defining traits of small-scale activity

6 Large-scale guerrilla activity; includes all three of the following: (a) more than 1,000 armed fighters, (b) frequent armed attacks (more than 6 reported per year), (c) attacks affecting large part of the area occupied by group

7 Civil war; protracted civil war fought by rebel military, has all the characteristics of large-scale guerilla activity, plus rebels control large scale base areas that are secure over time

706Variable definitions, scores, and values are adapted from AMAR’s Phase 1 Codebook. See: All Minorities at Risk Project, “All Minorities at Risk (AMAR) Phase I Codebook.” See also: Birnir et al., “Introducing the AMAR (All Minorities at Risk) Data.”; Birnir et al. “Socially Relevant Ethnic Groups, Ethnic Structure, and AMAR.” 240

9.2 Protest

Protest is initiated by organizations that claim to represent the group’s interests and directed against the (de-facto) government that claims to exercise authority over the group. The most serious manifestation is reported for each year in which it occurs (or once every five years in the period 1940-1984). Protests outside the group’s home country are excluded. These data do not assume that action from one year carries over into the next. For the purpose of this dissertation,

“no basis for judgement” (-99) scores were recoded as missing.

Score Value

0 None reported

1 Verbal opposition; public letters, petitions, posters, publications, agitation, court action, requests by a minority-controlled regional group for independence

2 Symbolic resistance; sabotage, symbolic destruction of property or political organizing activity on a substantial scale (e.g., sit-ins, blockage of traffic), mobilization for autonomy/secession by a minority-controlled regional government

3 Small demonstrations; a few demonstrations, rallies, strikes, and/or riots, the largest of which has total participation of less than 10,000

4 Medium demonstrations; demonstrations, rallies, strikes, and/or riots, the largest of which has total participation between 10,000 and 100,000

5 Large demonstrations; demonstrations, rallies, strikes, and/or riots, the largest of which has total participation over 100,000

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9.3 Language

Language measures distinctiveness from the comparison group on language. The comparison group is the largest (plurality or majority) ethnic group in the state. For the purpose of this dissertation, “no basis for judgement” (-99) and “unknown” (-88) scores were recoded as missing.

Score Score Value (Tables 1-8) (Tables 9-10)

0 0 Linguistic assimilation with plurality group; group has same language as plurality (e.g., Arab Shi’a and Arab Sunni in Iraq) or most of the group (>90%) no longer speaks native language but has assimilated to language of dominant group (e.g., German Americans, native Hawaiians)

1 1 Group speaks multiple languages, at least one different from plurality group, or members of group speak different languages (e.g., Southern Sudanese in Sudan), or part of group is assimilated to plurality, but part still speaks native language

2 1 Group speaks primarily one language that is different from plurality group, or plurality of group speaks the same language, and it is different from plurality group language (e.g., Kurds in Turkey or Iraq)

242

9.4 Belief

Belief measures distinctiveness from the comparison group on religion. The comparison group is the largest (plurality or majority) ethnic group in the state. For the purpose of this dissertation, “no basis for judgement” (-99) and “unknown” (-88) scores were recoded as missing, while scores for groups that are highly segmented (-77) were recoded as “0”.

Score Score Value (Tables 1-8) (Tables 9-10)

0 0 Same religion as plurality; the plurality of the group (>90%) is the same religion as the plurality group (e.g., Basques in Spain are Roman Catholic like most Spaniards)

1 1 Different sect within same religion as plurality; same major religion, but different sect (e.g., Roman Catholic Irish in Northern Ireland vs. Protestants; Sunni Arabs in Iraq vs. Shi’a Arabs in Iraq)

2 1 Different religion; totally distinct religions (e.g., Palestinians are Muslim or Christian vs. Jewish Israelis; Christians in Iran vs. Shi’a Muslims)

243

9.5 Race

Race measures distinctiveness from the comparison group on race, based on continental or geographic origins. The comparison group is the largest (plurality or majority) ethnic group in the state. For the purpose of this dissertation, “no basis for judgement” (-99) and “unknown” (-88) scores were recoded as missing.

Score Score Value (Tables 1-8) (Table 9-10)

0 0 No physical differences in appearance

1 1 Physically distinguishable subtype of same racial stock (e.g., Korean vs. Japanese; Greek vs. German)

2 1 Different racial stock from the dominant group with substantial intermixture (e.g., Chinese v. Malay; Black or Indio v. European)

3 1 Different racial stock, little or no intermixture

244

9.6 Controls

9.6.1 Group proportion in country population is the average of estimates given by several sources, measured to 4 decimal places.

9.6.2 Group concentration measures the group’s spatial distribution. For the purpose of this dissertation, “no basis for judgement” (-99) scores were recoded as missing.

Score Value

0 Widely dispersed

1 Primarily urban, or minority of group lives in one region

2 Majority of group lives in one region, others dispersed (at least 50% of group lives in one region, but not more than 75%)

3 Concentrated in one region (at least 75% of group lives in one region)

245

9.6.3 Economic discrimination is reported according to the following index. For the purpose of this dissertation, “no basis for judgement” (-99) scores were recoded as missing.

Score Value

0 No discrimination

1 Neglect/remedial polices; significant poverty and under-representation in desirable occupations due to historical marginality, neglect, or restrictions. Public policies are designed to improve the group's material well-being

2 Neglect/no remedial policies; significant poverty and under-representation due to historical marginality, neglect, or restrictions. No social practice of deliberate exclusion. Few or no public policies aim at improving the group's material well-being

3 Social exclusion/neutral policy; significant poverty and under-representation due to prevailing social practice by dominant groups. Formal public policies toward the group are neutral or, if positive, inadequate to offset active and widespread discrimination

4 Exclusion/repressive policy; public policies (formal exclusion and/or recurring repression) substantially restrict the group's economic opportunities by contrast with other groups

246

9.6.4 Repression of group members engaged in non-violent collective action reflects the highest level of repression by the (de-facto) government and its agencies, directed at politicians, human rights leaders, nonviolent protesters, etc. Threats of repression are not reported. For the purpose of this dissertation, “no basis for judgement” (-99) scores were recoded as missing.

Score Value

0 None reported

1 Surveillance; domestic spying, wiretapping, etc.

2 Harassment/containment; saturation of police/military presence, militarized checkpoints targeting members of groups, curfews, states of emergency, closing down political publications/offices

3 Nonviolent coercion; arrests, show-trials, property confiscation, exile/deportation

4 Violent coercion, short of killing; forced resettlement, torture, non-lethal force used against protesters

5 Violent coercion, killing; systematic killings, ethnic cleansing, reprisal killings, lethal force used against protesters

247