Hispanic Urban Studies

Home , Anselmo Lorenzo, Edward Bellamy, Juan Serrano Oteiza, Looking Backward, Pablo Iglesias Posse, Rafael Farga i Pellicer

Series Editors Benjamin Fraser University of Arizona Tucson, AZ, USA

Susan Larson Texas Tech University Lubbock, TX, USA Hispanic Urban Studies is a series of scholarly monographs, edited volumes, and translations focusing on Spanish, Latin American and US Latino urban culture. The humanities and the social sciences are closer in methodology than ever before. Hispanic Urban Studies serves a dual purpose: to introduce radically original humanities work to social science researchers while affirming the relevance of cultural production to discussions of the urban. This book series takes advantage of and further contributes to exciting interdisciplinary discussions between Hispanic Studies and Cultural Geography with the aim of bringing in new ideas about space, place, and culture from all parts of the Hispanic world. Monograph titles bring together analyses of the cultural production of the Hispanic world with urban and spatial theory from a range of disciplinary contexts. The series also welcomes proposals for edited volumes related to cities that contribute in creative ways to our understanding of the spatial turn in Hispanic Studies. Translations published in the series introduce English-language readers to the rich legacy of materials on urbanism, urban culture, and cultural geography originally published in Spanish.

About the series editors Benjamin Fraser is Professor of Spanish at the University of Arizona, USA. Susan Larson is Professor of Spanish at Texas Tech University, USA.

Advisory Board Malcolm Compitello, University of Arizona, USA Monica Degen Brunel, University, London, UK Cecilia Enjuto Rangel, University of Oregon, USA Amanda Holmes, McGill University, Canada Marcy Schwartz, Rutgers University, USA Álvaro Sevilla Buitrago, Polytechnic University of Madrid, Spain Armando Silva, National University of Colombia, Bogotá Michael Ugarte, University of Missouri, Columbia, USA Víctor Valle, California Polytechnic State University, USA

More information about this series at http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/14872 Stephen Luis Vilaseca Anarchist Socialism in Early Twentieth- Century Spain

A Ricardo Mella Anthology Stephen Luis Vilaseca World Languages and Cultures Northern Illinois University DeKalb, IL, USA

ISSN 2662-5830 ISSN 2662-5849 (electronic) Hispanic Urban Studies ISBN 978-3-030-44676-5 ISBN 978-3-030-44677-2 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-44677-2

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.

This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland For my dad, Luis, and for all who fight for the continual shake-up of everyday life Acknowledgments

Although creative activism in Spain, the focus of my earlier scholarship, is heavily influenced by anarchistic practices, I was unfamiliar with Ricardo Mella’s work. I would like to thank Benjamin Fraser for introducing me to Mella’s significant body of texts and for encouraging me to pursue this translation project. I gained much insight into Mella’s thought through speaking with Iria Presa. This book would not have been possible without her tireless and exhaustive archival research, and her willingness to share what she had found. Thanks go, too, to George Richard Esenwein for graciously agreeing to ground my reading of the relationship between Mella’s anarchist thought and the city with his expertise in Spanish anarchism. I am also indebted to Matthew Smith for his invaluable suggestions regarding the translation itself, and I thank my wife, Emily Knudson- Vilaseca, for her careful reading of the final manuscript prior to publication. I would also like to extend my gratitude to David Yan who created the maps of Vigo that are included in my introduction to this translation. Finally, thanks go to the anonymous readers solicited by Palgrave who provided thoughtful and constructive feedback. I owe much to colleagues who have encouraged me over the years. In particular, Bryan Cameron, Malcolm Compitello, Matthew Feinberg, Susan Larson, and Araceli Masterson-Algar. I also am grateful for the support given to me by my co-workers at Northern Illinois University. Lastly, I thank my parents and sisters for giving me the strength to be a freethinker. I hope that my sons, Tryggve and Viggo, will someday read this translation and be inspired by Mella’s anarchist ideas.

vii viii Acknowledgments

The contents of this book comprise texts that Mella signed with his own name (these are the sections I have translated as “Anarchist Socialism: Prolegomena”, “Free Cooperation and Community Systems”, “The Principle of Reward and the Law of Needs”, “Is Labor a Physiological Need?”, “The Practical Meaning of Anarchism”, “Bellicose Literature”, “For the Barbarians”, “Guilty Idealisms”, “Authoritarian Bad Habits”, “The Absurdity of a Judgment”, “Concerning Antinomy”, “The Old Routines”, “How a Method is Strengthened”, “Productive Labor”, “The Great Resources”, “Revolutions”, “Savagery and Ferocity”, “The Sadness of Living”, “Enclosures”, “Dialogue about Skepticism”, “Reason is not enough”, “The Bankruptcy of Beliefs”, “Enough Idolatries!”, “Beyond the Ideal”, “The Intellectualist Hyperbole: Intellectual Workers and Manual Workers”, “Worn-out Socialism”, “Central Error of the Power of Nations”, “Verbalism in Education”, “The Two Spains”, “Culture”, “The Death of Pi y Margall”, “Anselmo Lorenzo: A Young Old Man”, “One Opinion and Another”, “Two Speeches: Maeztu and Alomar”, “Fictions and Realities”, and “Two Books”), with the initials of his first and last name or with the initials of his first name only (“The Uselessness of Laws”, “The Future of Latin America by M. Ugarte”, “Works of Auguste Dide”, and “The Christian Legend”), under his pseudonym Raúl (“Compound 606”, “Official Science of Criminology”, “Regimentation and Nature: Civilization’s Work”, “Vote, but Listen”, “Insignificant Things of an Insignificant Philosopher”, “Vision of the Future”, “Dead Things”, “The Weight of Immorality”, “Secondhand Morality”, “Sincerity”, “Signs of the Times”, “Liberalism and Interventionism”, “Brain and Brawn”, “The Drawbacks of Cheap Philosophy”, and “César o nada, Novel by Pío Baroja”), his pseudonym Mario (“An Indictment”, “Insignificant Things of an Insignificant Philosopher”, “Dunces and Crafty Devils”, and “Costa”), his pseudonym Dr. Alén (“Justice and Triable Issues: The Case of Sancho Alegre”, and “Ideas and Realities”), his pseudonym X (“Regional Monographs”), and texts that Mella did not sign, publishing them as lead- ers or editorials in the newspapers Acción Libertaria (Gijón, Vigo and Madrid) and El Libertario (“Those Who Rule”, “A Day of Almsgiving”, “Crème de la crème”, “Revolutionaries, Yes; Spokesmen for the Revolution, No”, “The Great Lie”, “Overpowering Centralism”, “Questions of Tactics”, “Libertarian Tactics”, “How One Fights”, “Political Evolution and Social Evolution”, “Sowing Death”, “Voices in Acknowledgments ix the Desert”, “The Uselessness of Laws”, “Psychology of Authority”, “Libertarians and Authoritarians”, “The Essence of Power: Dictatorships”, “Not Pessimistic or Optimistic”, “First of May”, “October 13, 19…”, “Class Struggle”, “Concerning Justice”, “The Problem with Education”, “What is meant by Rationalism?”, “Questions of Education”, “For the Spanish Bourgeoisie: An Adversary’s Advice”, “Hunger and Lasciviousness”, and “The Anarchist Danger”). Translator’s Note

Our ideals are the experimental result of each moment. (my translation, Mella 1926, 18) This kind of ever evolving storytelling and meaning-making in and through translation—where words are always in continuous and critical creative motion—fundamentally challenges our received ideas about “the expert.” (Nagar 2017, 124)

When I began to translate Ricardo Mella’s work, the pressure to produce a faithful, definitive translation weighed heavily on my shoulders. I was unsure how to carry across Mella’s unique style and voice from Spanish to English. My uncertainty was crippling until I realized that the appropriate approach to translating his texts was to be found in his anarchist thought. Mella vehemently argues that anarchism’s “philosophy stems from the following principle demonstrated everywhere: science is a body of knowledge in perpetual formation” (my emphasis and translation, Mella 1926, 17). The concept of continuous variations, and of constant evolution and movement marks Mella’s world vision. He advises against pre-determined formulas and constraints, and, as his quote that precedes this note suggests, he believes that each moment is an infinite unleashing of multiple spaces of becoming. Mella’s early twentieth-century thought is reinforced by recent translation theory. Not only Richa Nagar (Nagar 2017, 124), whose quote, also, introduces this note, but Christi Merrill (Merrill 2009), as well, view translation as a retelling, in which both text and context are constantly

xi xii TRANSLATOR’S NOTE evolving. Taking Mella’s cue and Nagar’s and Merrill’s recent insight, this translation is my telling of Mella’s story at this particular moment of time and location of space. It is not the definitive translation, nor does it claim to be. This way of handling the translation allows me to take certain liber- ties with punctuation and sentence structure in order to craft a more English-friendly interpretation of Mella’s prose. Even though Mella’s ten- dency to construct long sentences by connecting multiple independent clauses with semicolons was challenging to translate, the feature of Mella’s style that was most disconcerting to me, given the fact that Mella con- demns any exclusivism, is his constant use of masculine nouns and pro- nouns to refer to both men and women. It was unclear to me whether he was purposefully erasing the presence of women, or if his utilization of gendered language was merely a stylistic device of the times. Mella clarifies his position in a piece not included in Ideario: “El socialismo revolucionario quiere y proclama a la mujer la igual al hombre” [Revolutionary socialism wants and proclaims the equality of women and men] (Hope 1885, 2). In light of this finding, I was torn between, on the one hand, changing the dated, gendered language to more inclusive language in order to better reflect Mella’s discourse on social justice, and, on the other, maintain- ing the original text. I decided to keep the original, gendered language because it does draw attention to the disparity that often separates thought and practice with regard to the topic of gender equality. I will also harken back to Mella’s thought in order to defend my exclu- sion of front matter appearing in previous editions of Ideario. Federica Montseny, in order to introduce the 1975 edition, wrote an introduction to Felipe Alaiz’s prologue to the 1955 edition made in exile in France by the journal Cénit and to José Prat’s prologue to the 1925 edition. Ramón Llarte, along with his preface to the 1978 edition, included all of the prior aforementioned front matter. Heeding Mella’s advice to continually shake-up fixed practices, I decided not to incorporate the previous material. Iria Presa’s biographical sketch replaces Llarte’s preface because it adds new information gleaned from extensive archival research. George Richard Esenwein’s text serves the same function as Montseny’s introduction. It situates Ideario in the time and life of the Spanish anarchist movement. In addition, his contribution offers a long overdue clarification between anarchism and the utopian genre of literature as reflected in Mella’s short novel La Nueva Utopía. My introduction resituates and TRANSLATOR’S NOTE xiii extends Mella’s conceptual model of literary synthesis as a framework for understanding urban culture. It explores how nineteenth-century Spanish realist art in conjunction with urban space contributed to Mella’s anarchist thought. Because this is the first English translation of and critical introduction to Ideario, a collection of newspaper and journal articles written in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries by a Spanish anarchist virtually unknown to the English-speaking world, I struggled with the translation of the title. The second definition given for ideario by the Royal Spanish Academy is ideology (“Ideario” 1992). However, because Mella was against any systemization of thought, this translation would be misleading at best. The first definition—a collection of an author’s main ideas—seems more appropriate but rather uninteresting (“Ideario” 1992). In the open- ing lines of Mella’s first article included in Ideario, he repeats a common complaint waged by more progressive critics of anarchism. They argue that it is merely a set of beautiful shreds without systematic coherence. However, it is precisely anarchism’s lack of prescription that Mella values. Beautiful shreds are both content and, in the case of Ideario, form because the various newspaper and journal articles that structure Ideario are torn from Mella’s greater body of work. The collection of anarchist ideas before you, originally published in 1925 and compiled by his close friend Pedro Sierra and intellectual disciple Eleuterio Quintanilla, is like a floral arrangement of Mella’s best flowers taken from his garden of anarchy, for the word anthology comes from the Greek anthos [flower] and logia [collection] (“Anthology” 1991). Therefore, I decided to pluck the very same flowers and highlight this connection in the title. I present to you Anarchist Socialism in early 20th Century Spain: A Ricardo Mella Anthology.

References “Anthology.” 1991. The American Heritage Dictionary. Second college edition. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co. Hope. 1885. “Apuntes bibliográficos, Primer Certámen Socialista (1): Obras premiadas II.” Revista Social 39: 2. “Ideario.” 1992. Diccionario de la lengua española, Definitions 1 and 2. Madrid: Real Academia Española. Mella, Ricardo. 1926. Ideario. Gijón: Imprenta <>. xiv TRANSLATOR’S NOTE

Merrill, Christi. 2009. Riddles of Belonging. New York: Fordham UP. Nagar, Richa et al. 2017. “A Cross-Disciplinary Roundtable on the Feminist Politics of Translation.” In Olga Castro and Emek Ergun, eds., Feminist Translation Studies: Local and Transnational Perspectives, 111–135. New York and London: Routledge. Contents

1 Doctrine 1 Anarchist Socialism: Prolegomena 1 Free Cooperation and Community Systems 9 The Principle of Reward and the Law of Needs 18 Is Labor a Physiological Need? 24 The Practical Meaning of Anarchism 27

2 Social Criticism 29 Compound 606 29 Bellicose Literature 31 An Indictment 32 Official Science of Criminology 33 Those Who Rule 35 A Day of Almsgiving 37 Crème de la crème 38 Regimentation and Nature: Civilization’s Work 40

3 Libertarian Habits 45 For the Barbarians 45 Guilty Idealisms 50 Revolutionaries, Yes; Spokesmen for the Revolution, No 53 The Great Lie 55 Overpowering Centralism 58 Authoritarian Bad Habits 60

xv xvi Contents

The Absurdity of a Judgment 62 Concerning Antinomy 64 The Old Routines 66 How a Method Is Strengthened 68

4 Tactics 71 Productive Labor 71 Vote, but Listen 75 Questions of Tactics 76 Libertarian Tactics 81 How One Fights 83

5 Evolution and Revolution 87 Political Evolution and Social Evolution 87 The Great Resources 92 Revolutions 94

6 Violence 97 Sowing Death 97 Voices in the Desert 99 Justice and Triable Issues: The Case of Sancho Alegre 101 Ideas and Realities 105 Savagery and Ferocity 108

7 Freedom and Authority 113 The Uselessness of Laws 113 Psychology of Authority 114 Libertarians and Authoritarians 116 The Essence of Power: Dictatorships 118

8 Philosophical-Literary Essays 121 The Sadness of Living 121 Insignificant Things of an Insignificant Philosopher 125 Enclosures 128 Dialogue About Skepticism 130 Not Pessimistic or Optimistic 134 Reason Is Not Enough 136 Vision of the Future 138 Contents xvii

9 Iconoclastic Ideas 141 The Bankruptcy of Beliefs 141 Enough Idolatries! 145 First of May 147 October 13, 19… 148 Beyond the Ideal 150 Dead Things 151

10 Morals 155 The Weight of Immorality 155 Secondhand Morality 157 Dunces and Crafty Devils 159 Sincerity 161

11 Sociological Topics 165 The Intellectualist Hyperbole: Intellectual Laborers and Manual Laborers 165 Class Struggle 170 Signs of the Times 172 Worn-out Socialism 173 Liberalism and Interventionism 175 Concerning Justice 178 Central Error of the Power of Nations 180

12 Pedagogy 185 The Problem with Education 185 What Is Meant by Rationalism? 190 Questions of Education 193 Verbalism in Education 198

13 Spanish Life 203 The Two Spains 203 Culture 208 For the Spanish Bourgeoisie: An Adversary’s Advice 211 Regional Monographs 213 xviii Contents

14 Representative Men 225 The Death of Pi y Margall 225 Costa 228 Anselmo Lorenzo: A Young Old Man 229 An Exemplary Life 230

15 Polemical Works 233 One Opinion and Another 233 Two Speeches: Maeztu and Alomar 237 Hunger and Lasciviousness 240 Fictions and Realities 241 The Anarchist Danger 244 Brain and Brawn 248 The Drawbacks of Cheap Philosophy 251

16 Readings 255 Two Books 255 César o nada, Novel by Pio Baroja 258 The Future of Latin America by M. Ugarte 261 Works of Auguste Dide 263 The Christian Legend 264

Index 267 About the Authors

Iria Presa graduated from the Philology Department of the University of Vigo in Spain. She has completed extensive archival research on Ricardo Mella, José Villaverde Velo, and Manoel Antonio. She disseminates her work on her personal websites found at ricardomellacea.info and https:// iriaboomdias.wixsite.com/epifaniaslibertarias George Richard Esenwein is widely known for his expertise in Spanish and European anarchism and the Spanish civil war, and his numerous writings on the history of modern Spain have appeared in many publications. He has authored three books: Anarchist Ideology and the Spanish Working- class Movement, 1868–1898 (1989), Spain at War: The Spanish Civil War in Context, 1931–1939, co-authored with Adrian Shubert, (1995), and The Spanish Civil War: A Modern Tragedy (2005). Information about both his teaching and his research can be found at http://users.clas.ufl. edu/gesenwei/ Stephen Luis Vilaseca is Associate Professor of Spanish at Northern Illinois University and co-associate editor of the Journal of Urban Cultural Studies. He is the author of Barcelonan Okupas: Squatter Power! (2013). He promotes his work on his personal website and blog found at https:// stephenvilaseca.wordpress.com/

xix We Hope Mella: Moving Beyond His Name

Translated by Stephen Luis Vilaseca for Xosé Reigosa and Aaron Swartz Because of the relatively recent availability of texts by and news clips about Ricardo Mella (Vigo, 1861–1925) in archives around the world, much more is known today about his rich biography and journalistic production. His own modesty coupled with political repression, which he personally experienced and his family suffered during the Spanish Civil War and postwar period (1936–1975), silenced his history and caused both his biography and his work to be superficially compiled. Although considered one of the most original and representative authors of libertarian thought, his role as a worker and activist is still underrepresented. The objective of this biographical sketch of Ricardo Mella is to take a brief journey beyond the initials R.M. to illuminate some little-known aspects of the topographical engineer, writer, and activist. According to his baptism certificate, Ricardo José Clemente Mella Cea was born in Cruz Verde (Vigo, Pontevedra, Galicia) on November 23, 1861, the natural son of the hatter Antonio José Mella Buján and Dolores Cea Fernández. His family (federalist republican and consisting of trades- people on both sides) fomented his intellectual curiosity and encouraged him to be autodidactic. There are no primary sources detailing his youth until 1880 when he writes an article in the newspaper El Estudiante (Pontevedra, 1879–1883), a publication edited by students of Pontevedra High School. Mella is eighteen years old and his text is lucid and poignant,

xxi xxii WE HOPE MELLA: MOVING BEYOND HIS NAME and it demonstrates his maturity. While it is likely that Mella had contributed to previous issues, it is not until May 14, 1880, that we verify his participation. On this date, El Estudiante publishes “Where is Christian charity?” with the signature “R. Mella,” the first article that we know of him and which begins by affirming:

Charity, as observed and has been observed through the years by the gener- ality of men, is the greatest and most criminal of hypocrisies (…) Charity, as the religious fanatics practice it and have practiced it, is the greatest of insults. (Mella 1880c, 1)

In his next known text, “El Verdugo” [The Executioner], Mella describes the executioner as an innocent executor of the law. Reflecting on the idea of justice, he argues:

There is a state in Europe, in Civilized Europe, in modern Europe that pays the executioner twelve thousand three hundred forty escudos a year, for kill- ing. There is in this Europe of knowledge, in this scientific Europe, a state (there is not one but several) that pays seventeen duros a day for hanging our fellow men! Future generations will be astonished that man is paid to kill and not given anything to live. And instead, perhaps in this state, thousands and thousands of men in these uncertain moments cannot find work to be able to feed themselves. Even though so many hard-working men have no wages, the executioner always receives his pay. (Mella 1880d, 1)

This same day, when Mella concludes “El Verdugo,” an article titled “Warning!” appears in El Eco del Miño, the newspaper led by Justo Salvador Fortes and based in Tui, the bishop’s headquarters of the Tui-Vigo dio- cese. It cautions that “the poisoned virus of immorality and crime is spreading under the guise of gentle sheep and is shouting for equality, freedom and fraternity” (Anonymous 1880a, 1). Seven days after the admonishment, the article “On the Alert!” written by R. Mella headlines El Estudiante. The infamies proclaimed by El Eco del Miño required a reply, and Mella could not help but offer one:

The well-respected publication El Eco de Miño, in its Wednesday, June 23 issue, sounded an alarm for the youth, and for the believers of Catholicism. It did so in such an inconvenient way that the fibers of our hearts burst upon reading the article. We could not resist the desire to give our two cents. We WE HOPE MELLA: MOVING BEYOND HIS NAME xxiii

will examine the inevitable passion that afflicts all our supernumerary friends of the Tui newspaper. Blind and daring religious fanaticism abounds in the aforementioned article. (Mella 1880b, 1)

The controversial and combative Mella, who, years later, will become widely known as such, was already alive and kicking. Based on the previous text, El Eco del Miño baptizes Mella as “a sleeping sentinel” in an article with the same title and declares: “We will remind the entire Catholic world that Mr. Mella’s doctrines are anathema to the Church and to the Popes” (Anonymous 1880b, 2). Beginning with these early articles, Mella is a natural lie detector, pos- sessor of an inherent human quality, who finds in the newspaper the most effective tool for denouncing injustice and spreading his ideas. His first brief essay, the series “For Brave People...!” (Mella 1880f and 1880 g), follows “On the Alert!” In it, Mella criticizes the immoral behavior of the Church while defending freethinking, freemasonry, and Louise Michel’s participation in the Paris Commune. After “For Brave People…!,” there are only two more texts with the signature R. Mella in this publication: “The Truth” (Mella 1880e) and “To the Galician Press” (Mella 1880a), articles in which he examines the socio-economic situation in Galicia and encourages journalists and the Galician people to organize in order to improve their precarious living conditions. On November 20, 1880, Mella stops publishing with El Estudiante, a newspaper that subsequently will become more conservative. After his controversial stint with El Estudiante, Mella returns to Vigo beginning in October 1880. Back in Vigo, Mella soon becomes editor of La Verdad, a local newspaper whose first issue is printed on April 2, 1881. José Elduayen (local political boss, Conservative delegate, and Marquis of Pazo de la Merced) will now be the target of Mella’s criticisms. The ruling of the Territorial High Court of A Coruña on April 22, 1882, reveals the reason for Mella’s subsequent exile to Madrid:

Considering: that the item in the newspaper entitled La Verdad in the City of Vigo, corresponding to May 16, 1881 (…) contains the serious insults as defined in the Code’s cited articles, charging Mr. José Elduayen with a lack of morality and purity in the carrying out of the position of Director of the National Bank, with the purpose of damaging his honor and discrediting him before the country where he is most known and where he has more xxiv WE HOPE MELLA: MOVING BEYOND HIS NAME

interest in preserving his good name and reputation (…) Considering: that by explicit confession the defendant Mr. Ricardo Mella y Cea admitted that he was the author and was solely responsible for the insulting item to which this ruling refers (…) we must condemn and find Mr. Ricardo Mella y Cea guilty. (Audiencia Territorial da Coruña 1882)

Perhaps only upon knowing Mella’s complete trajectory, including his activities in the city as documented by La Verdad and criticized by another local newspaper Faro de Vigo, will one understand how a nineteen-year-old boy could endanger the reputation of this “honorable” marquis. The process drags on from the spring of 1881 until December 1882. In January 1883, Mella leaves for Madrid and his exile incites a fervent desire for justice. On July 31, 1881, the first issue of La Propaganda is published in Vigo with the newspaper’s administrative and editing headquarters located in José Mella’s hat factory. Although initially an outlet for federalist ideas, the newspaper, which is promoted by Mella and friends Joaquín Nogueira, Ángel Bernárdez and Federico Rodríguez, quickly begins to embrace anarchism. Government repression causes some of the editors to gradually distance themselves from La Propaganda. It seems that only Nogueira and Mella stay with the publication. In fact, the known-remaining issues of La Propaganda suggest that Mella wrote the majority of the texts. I suspect that he was the author of articles signed by X., M.C., X.X., R.C. Micel or R. and was the author of anonymous texts. Mella utilizes pseudonyms not only to avoid the persecution to which he was subjected, but also uses them because he prefers to spread his ideas rather than consecrate his name. He understands that his identity might lead his readers to prejudge his writings before considering their content. As a result, he opts for a game of concealment, which he continues throughout his life. Hope, Clemente Cea, Aristogitón, Raúl, Mario, or Dr. Alén are some of the other pseudonyms we know he used. He also often signed texts without a specific name, such as “a comrade,” “a worker,” or “a correspondent.” La Propaganda ends its days on March 4, 1883, with issue 74, the newspaper’s last circulated edition. Issue 75 is sequestered, and Nogueira has to spend five days in jail. The fate of number 76 is the same. After about three years of fruitful counter-information and incitement of the workers’ organization, and only seven issues after the departure of Mella to Madrid to live-out his exile, Vigo is left without one of its most daring publications to date. WE HOPE MELLA: MOVING BEYOND HIS NAME xxv

Mella’s new and hectic life in Madrid reveals him to be an activist and polemic inside as well as outside his editorial circles. His active participation in the Madrilean Federation assemblies and his dialectic dis- agreements with Pablo Iglesias Posse (founder of the Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party, PSOE) uncover an unknown facet of Mella and a very interesting context in which to analyze the relationships between Marxists and anarchists in Spain. In addition, besides Mella’s well-documented connection with Serrano Oteiza’s mythical Revista Social, he most likely was also involved with another influential journal, namelyBandera Social (Madrid, 1885–1886). His eternal friendship with Ernesto Álvarez and Francisco Ruíz, the journal’s editors, along with his camaraderie with the union that helped propel Bandera Social, the union of noógrafos (a neologism to describe the field of typesetters, typographers, printers, and editors) as well as the various texts with his marked style that appeared in the journal all lead me to connect him to Bandera Social, although no one has done so before. In the near future, I am confident that author recogni- tion software will settle the doubts that remain and will confirm my suspicions. To make the case that the pseudonym Hope was used by Mella, a case that has yet to be made, one must begin with the pages of La Propaganda and Bandera Social. The anonymously written series “Social Outlines – Pocketbook Notes” in La Propaganda (Anonymous 1883a; 1883b), Mella’s publication in Vigo, and the three installments of “Contrasts” within the “Variable Section” of Bandera Social (Anonymous 1885a; 1885b; 1885c) consist of articles in which a narrator in the first person recounts scenes of everyday life in Madrid that contrast and criticize the poverty of some people against the opulence of others. On August 27, 1885, the same year of the release of “Contrasts,” the Revista Social publishes the first two articles that we know by Hope, “Apuntes bibliográfi- cos. Obras Premiadas I y II” [“Bibliographical Notes. Awarded Works I and II”], in which the author, after explaining that he proposes to offer a critique of the various works awarded at the First Socialist Literary Contest in Reus, begins to review the first of the works collected in the volume (Hope 1885a; 1885b). In January 1886, Acracia: Revista Sociológica (Barcelona) publishes three installments of “Literary Excursions,” the second series of texts signed with the pseudonym Hope (Hope 1886a; 1886b; 1886c). On February 6, 1887, Hope reemerges in the newly inau- gurated El Productor of Barcelona with the story “The Rogue and the Young Gentleman” (Hope 1887b) followed by “Contrasts” on February xxvi WE HOPE MELLA: MOVING BEYOND HIS NAME

10 (Hope 1887a). This “Contrasts” is not a copy of the articles published in the Bandera Social, but what I believe to be a continuation of them as well as of the series “Social Outlines – Pocketbook Notes” found in La Propaganda. A similar first-person narrator (in this case, a native of Vigo and resident in Madrid) recounts events of daily life. Particularly, this narrator, after detailing his land and childhood, describes Madrid life and contrasts life in Galicia with that of Madrid with special reference to what happens to him on a certain night in which, impelled by the death of a friend, he takes a walk. During April 1891, La Vanguardia: Semanario Federal of Vigo, Mella’s hometown, publishes “Silhouettes” (Hope 1891b) and in May “Fatalism of the Revolution” (Hope 1891a), both signed by Hope. On June 14, 1891, El Productor leads its edition with “Revolutionary Fatalism” signed by R.M. The similar titles (“Fatalism of the Revolution” and “Revolutionary Fatalism”), the equivalent content and the not so serendipitous fact that Esperanza, the name of Mella’s wife, translates into English as Hope make a strong case that Hope is Mella (Mella 1891). Hope’s revelations in some of these texts make this pseudonym an important piece because it allows us to get to know the more intimate and literary Mella, hence our interest in making it visible. Be that as it may, there are nonetheless many Ricardos, Clementes, and Mellas yet to be revealed beyond Hope and R. Mella: for example, Mella the translator, Mella the lecturer, Mella the poet, Mella the topographer, Mella the father and comrade, Mella the director, the traveling and ignored Mella who is organizer, agitator, and revolutionary, and the constantly pursued and three times detained Mella, whose last detention occurred in the summer of 1924, barely a year before his death in Vigo on August 6, 1925, of typhoid fever. But Mella did not die in 1925. He is still alive. He continues to live on because of his intellectual substance, his clarity, and his conduct. To recover his trajectory and writings is to get closer to the basis of Spanish anarcho-syndicalism and to the history of the international anarchist movement. From the collective “Comando RM” of Vigo, we advocate for this revival and maintain a website, ricardomellacea.info, where anyone can learn more about Mella’s works and can travel to the past and experiment his exploits and misfortunes through newspapers, letters, official documents, and other primary sources. WE HOPE MELLA: MOVING BEYOND HIS NAME xxvii

Mella laid bare our human passions and cleared the path to happiness and harmony, which is to say to this other little-known anarchy that is now in our hands to experience once again.

Vigo, Spain Iria Presa

References Anonymous. 1880a. “¡Alerta!” El Eco de Miño 90: 1–4. ———. 1880b. “Un centinela dormido.” El Eco de Miño 94: 1–3. ———. 1883a. “Bosquejos sociales. Apuntes de cartera.” La Propaganda 71: 2–3. ———. 1883b. “Bosquejos sociales. Apuntes de cartera.” La Propaganda 72: 2–3. ———. 1885a. “Contrastes.” Bandera Social 27: 4. ———. 1885b. “Contrastes.” Bandera Social 30: 3–4. ———. 1885c. “Contrastes.” Bandera Social 32: 4. Audiencia Territorial da Coruña. 1882. Archivo del Reino de Galicia Sig. 44,358, L. 9686. Hope. 1885a. “Apuntes bibliográficos. Obras premiadas I.”Revista Social 33: 3–4. ———. 1885b. “Apuntes bibliográficos. Obras premiadas II.” Revista Social 39: 2. ———. 1886a. “Excursiones literarias I.” Acracia: Revista sociológica 9: 78–82. ———. 1886b. “Excursiones literarias II.” Acracia: Revista sociológica 10: 110–113. ———. 1886c. “Excursiones literarias III.” Acracia: Revista sociológica 11: 123–128. ———. 1887a. “Contrastes.” El Productor 9: 1–4. ———. 1887b. “El pillo y el señorito.” El Productor 6: 1–4. ———. 1891a. “Fatalismo de la revolución.” La Vanguardia 1(7): 2. ———. 1891b. “Siluetas.” La Vanguardia 2: 1–4. Mella, Ricardo. 1880a. “A la prensa galaica.” El Estudiante 104–105. ———. 1880b. “¡Alerta está!” El Estudiante 68: 1. ———. 1880c. “¿Dónde está la caridad cristiana?” El Estudiante 56: 1–2. ———. 1880d. “El Verdugo.” El Estudiante 66: 1. ———. 1880e. “La verdad.” El Estudiante 97. ———. 1880 f. “Para valientes…” El Estudiante 78: 1–2. ———. 1880 g. “Para valientes…” El Estudiante 84: 1–2. ———. 1891. “Fatalismo revolucionario.” El Productor 5 (250): 1. Anarchist Intellectuals: The “Utopian” Legacy of Ricardo Mella, 1861–19251

Because most historians have allowed the violent and more sensationalized episodes of the anarchists’ historical record to overshadow other, equally significant aspects of their movement, one of the least studied and therefore poorly understood features of nineteenth-century Spanish anarchism has to do with the role intellectuals played in shaping the ideas and practices of Spain’s libertarian community. Unlike their counterparts who were affiliated with Spain’s major political movements, anarchist intellectuals lacked a firm basis in a particular social class. Most were laymen and women drawn from the lower middle-classes and proletariat who were either self-educated or had little formal academic training. Only a tiny handful were able to devote themselves full-time to intellectual endeavors or make their living from writing.2 Further burdening their efforts to spread their revolutionary message was the relentless resistance they encountered from the Spanish authorities and mainstream society. Frequent bouts of government repression—which usually resulted in the wholesale shutdown of anarchist cultural activity and other forms of associational life—made it exceedingly difficult for libertarian writers to maintain their ideological links to the peasantry and working classes. Yet despite the obstacles they faced, prominent anarchist thinkers like Anselmo Lorenzo, Ricardo Mella, Rafael Farga Pellicer, Antonio Pellicer Paraire, Teresa Claramunt, Teresa Mañé (Soledad Gustavo), and Fernando Tarrida del Mármol managed over a period of several decades to regularly publish theoretical tracts, fictional works, and social commentaries which

xxix xxx ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO… achieved a high level of literary distinction. Of all the Spanish anarchist intellectuals of the last quarter of the nineteenth century, Ricardo Mella stands out as the most original and eloquent thinker. A number of historians—notably Juan Díaz del Moral, Gerald Brenan, and Max Nettlau— have noted in their accounts of Spanish anarchism that he “was the only Spaniard to make any contribution to Anarchist theory” (Brenan 1971, 166). Given that Mella made his living as a topographical engineer for many years in his hometown of Vigo (Galicia) and in Asturias, his many and varied contributions to the anarchist movement are even more remark- able.3 As an anarchist activist, Mella distinguished himself primarily through his numerous essays and articles, published over a thirty-year period. Starting in the 1880s and continuing until the early decades of the twentieth century, Mella’s articles, essays, and pamphlets appeared in all the leading libertarian journals of his day, not just in Spain but in North and South America. Covering a variety of themes—ranging from the Chicago Haymarket Affair of 1886 to the Jerez Rising of 1892 to Cesare Lombroso’s thesis on anarchism and criminality—these publications dem- onstrate not only Mella’s extraordinary range of intellectual interests but also his abiding commitment to his role as a spokesman of the anarchist cause.4

Mella and “Anarchism without Adjectives” For those familiar with the history of late nineteenth-century Spanish anarchism, Mella is best known for having established himself as a pivotal figure in the sometimes-acrimonious debates that revolved around the competing schools of anarchist thought that were then dividing the Spanish libertarian movement. On the one side stood the communists, who argued that the collectivist ideas that had dominated the strategy of the national movement until the mid-1880s placed too much emphasis on unionizing workers and operating in public spaces. Rather than use unions as the vehicles of class struggle, the communists insisted that their revolutionary movement should be organized along the lines of loosely feder- ated groups (grupitos) consisting exclusively of radicals who were dedicated to direct action tactics. On a more abstract level, communists and collectivists held opposing views of the mode of distribution of labor in future society. The former objected to the collectivist notion that a worker should have the right to enjoy the (integral) product of his/her labor. After the ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO… xxxi revolution, they contended, this as well as other forms of the wage system should be abolished in favor of one that was based on the principle: “From each according to his means, to each according to his needs.” Though a staunch defender of the Proudhonian and Bakuninist collectivist tradition to which he belonged, Mella sought to combat in the pages of Spain’s leading anarchist publications at that time, La Solidaridad (Seville), El Productor (Barcelona), and Acracia (Barcelona), the dogmatic elements within the anarchist movement. This led him and others who opposed the exclusivist stance adopted by hard-line communists and collectivists to promote an ecumenical form of anarchism that later came to be known as “anarchism without adjectives.” This current of thinking—which is perhaps Spain’s greatest contribution to anarchist thought— sought to synthesize a broad spectrum of libertarian ideas that included strands of mutualism, collectivism, communism, as well as the individualist perspectives with which Mella had acquainted himself in his readings of American anarchists such as Dyer Lum and Benjamin Tucker. Mella’s most innovative effort to transcend the communist/collectivist feud was to compose a short fictional work called La Nueva Utopía, an award-winning essay he submitted to the Second Socialist (Literary) Contest held in Barcelona in 1889. In this, he provides a schematic of what society would look like if it were allowed to evolve in accordance with its so-called natural tendencies. As we shall see, his fable painted a picture of future social arrangements that were open to a variety of economic systems—whether they were collectivist, mutualistic, or communist. By providing a conceptual model that could be used for reconciling Spain’s quarreling anarchist factions, Mella’s nonsectarian vision of future society marked a significant development in Spanish anarchist thinking. No less noteworthy is the fact that this work served as a literary bridge that linked Spanish anarchist writing to the broader currents of utopian literature that were popular in Europe and the Americas in the last decades of the nineteenth century.5 One of the major aims of this essay is to identify some of the genuinely utopian features of late nineteenth-century Spanish anarchist ideology by examining the main features of Mella’s novella. Because Mella emphasized the scientific underpinnings of his libertarian beliefs, it will also be necessary to examine the reasons why he chose to employ a fictional genre of writing—hitherto eschewed by most anarchists and socialists—as a vehicle for addressing the destructive ongoing ideological debates in the Spanish movement.6 xxxii ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO…

Before turning to these problems, however, it will be necessary to review briefly how the notion of “utopia” had changed since its inception in the early sixteenth century up to the period we are concerned with.

The Utopian Tradition: The First Wave Ever since Thomas More christened the word in 1516, the term “utopia” has generated an enormous amount of interest among politicians, philoso- phers, social theorists, writers, and historians.7 In the beginning, the word “utopia” (literally, nowhere) referred to an ideal community or common- wealth that was physically remote from Europe—it was supposed to be have been discovered somewhere in the “New World”—but which was nevertheless organized and governed by the dictates of reason as conceived by the European mind. Although this classic notion of the term endured— albeit with some modifications—for a number of years, the word itself eventually came to signify something quite different. Indeed, by the nineteenth century, the notion of utopia, while retaining elements of its classic definition, had acquired new features and meanings, ones that reflected the revolutionary social and technological changes that were then trans- forming the political and economic landscape of Europe. It is well known that the persons most responsible for modernizing and enlarging the meaning of “utopia” at this time were Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels. In fact, the definition of utopia that they offered in their works helped to launch a new career for the term. In an effort to distinguish their communist ideas from the socialist doctrines of a previous genera- tion, Marx and Engels used “utopian” to refer to anyone who subscribed to a so-called unscientific understanding of society. Briefly, they argued that utopians were socialists whose views of social reality were flawed above all because they were not grounded in the materialistic conception of history. As a result, they held that the utopian socialists were unable to see that “the final causes of all social changes and political revolutions are to be sought, not in men’s brains, not in man’s better insights into eternal truth and justice, but in changes in the modes of production and exchange. They are to be sought, not in philosophy, but in the economics of each particular epoch.” In defining the modern utopian Marx and Engels had in mind early nineteenth-century social reformers like Robert Owens, Charles Fourier, and Henri Saint-Simon. Guided by their optimistic belief in the unending material progress in the age of industry, these thinkers offered blueprints ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO… xxxiii of a communally oriented or collectivist society whose social and historical dimensions were, by definition, fixed.8 Considering that every attempt to establish communities based on these well-meaning “blueprints” ended in failure, the limitations of their viewpoints seemed to underscore the validity of Marx and Engels claim that utopian thinking of this sort was a product of a specific historical period. But, as events were to show, the literary tradition of utopian socialism would not die out completely.

Utopian Literature: The Second Wave The fact is that the Marxian critique of the early utopian writers never anticipated the emergence of a “second-wave” of socialist utopian literature, which emerged during the last decades of the nineteenth century.9 Not surprisingly, then, the revival of this literary tradition is exceedingly difficult to explain from a purely Marxian perspective. If the mentality that produced utopian socialism was temporally linked to the development of capitalism, as Marx and Engels insisted, then it might be possible to explain the appearance of utopian literature in Spain, where industrialization came much later than in England and France.10 But the fact is that the major utopian novels of the late nineteenth century appeared, not in Spain, but in the most advanced industrialized nations of the world, the United States (Edward Bellamy’s Looking Backward) and Great Britain (William Morris’s News from Nowhere). We will have to look elsewhere for an explanation of this intriguing phenomenon. Although examples of utopian writings continued to appear after the enthusiasm for utopian socialism as represented by Robert Owen, Charles Fourier, and Henri Saint-Simon had long since died away, the literary movement itself was moribund until the last quarter of the nineteenth century. The last two decades of the nineteenth century saw an explosion in the number of works devoted to science fiction (Jules Verne), time- travel (H.G. Wells), and related futuristic themes. Allied to this trend were utopian novels like Edward Bellamy’s Looking Backward (1888) which used this form of fiction as a device for conveying a pointed political message. In the decade following the publication of Bellamy’s work, some sixty utopian novels were published in the United States, with several of these written as direct responses to Bellamy’s socialist-inspired portrait of an ideal society.11 The renaissance of utopian literature at this time coincided with the upsurge of socialist agitation in the United States and in Europe. While it xxxiv ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO… is not our intention to categorize the varieties of utopian literature that appeared at this time, it will be important to identify the major currents of this revival which exercised an influence on Spanish anarchism.

Edward Bellamy’s Looking Backward In the United States radical social and political movements during the 1880s and 1890s were heavily influenced by a variety of utopian works, the most important of which was Edward Bellamy’s engaging romance about the future entitled, Looking Backward. When it was published in January 1888, Looking Backward seemed destined for obscurity. Sales were slow the first year. But, suddenly, the popularity of the work took off: it became a best-seller of its day in both America and abroad, with sales exceeding hundreds of thousands of copies. By 1890, the work was so- widely known that Bellamy had become a familiar name in most house- holds. It even inspired the creation of the “New Nationalist” political party, which was founded in order to establish the social order Bellamy sketches out in Looking Backward.12 To account for its immense popularity would require more space than we can devote to this theme here, although, in passing, we can cite two obvious reasons for its enormous success. One is that his futuristic romance was written in a style that appealed strongly to the popular literary taste of the era.13 (Jules Verne and other science fiction novelists had a wide readership.) Above all, however, Bellamy’s clear and convincing exposition of an industrial type of socialism that was rooted in the American experience was probably the principal cause for the book’s far-reaching impact. For, in spite of its fictional form, Looking Backward was intended, not as an imaginary world that embodied all the principles of an ideal socialism, but as a perfectly realizable model of social reform. For our purposes, however, the importance of Bellamy’s novel lies in the fact that it made such an enormous impact on the reading public abroad. By the end of 1889, some 40,000 copies had been sold in England and translations had appeared in many of the major world languages. Like his fellow countryman Henry George, who had gained a considerable following among the English in the preceding decade with his Progress and Poverty (1879), Bellamy found himself the topic of many literary and social discussions. Not all of those who read him, though, were persuaded by his vision of industrial socialism. This was particularly true of the Spanish anarchist ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO… xxxv collectivists and communists, who, unlike Bellamy, rejected the notion that nationalism and a centralized state should play a central role in realizing a desirable future society. What anarchists like Mella might have found appealing in Looking Backward, however, was Bellamy’s emphasis on the purposeful and positive use of technology in creating an ideal world. As we shall see, Mella shared Bellamy’s faith in the power of technology to serve as a solution to many of the social and economic problems of the future. Anarchists were not alone in objecting to the kind of socialist assumptions underlying Bellamy’s utopian novel. Among the harshest critics of Looking Backward was the British aesthete and socialist reformer, William Morris, who charged that the book reflected the unhistorical and inartistic temperament of a mind that was “firmly fixed on the mere machinery of life.” Morris may well have been so provoked by Bellamy’s work that he decided to write an alternative version of future society. Perhaps it is no coincidence that Morris’s utopian romance News from Nowhere (1890) is on many levels the antithesis of Looking Backward.14

William Morris and the Utopian Socialist Romance In England, the birth and subsequent development of the arts and crafts movement in the 1880s reflected the growing dissatisfaction among certain members of the intellectual and artistic community of the social con- sequences of industrialization in a largely unregulated capitalist society. The foremost representative of the aesthetical-minded reformers of this era was William Morris, who, like others on the left who shared his dissatisfaction with Britain’s traditional political parties, converted to socialism. His later writings and especially his popular News from Nowhere represent the best examples of British socialist literature which sought to marry the ideas of the artistic world with those of politics. Some of the questions he was seeking to address in his communist utopia were: How can we create the kind of society we would like to live in?15 Do we, in fact, want the products of our industry? Morris, of course, offers in his romance a personal response to these questions. And even if his vision did not mirror the orthodox socialist ideas of his day or was not widely regarded as a legitimate expression of contemporary Marxist thinking, there can be no doubt that his left-wing interpretation of post-revolutionary society reflected the wider views and values of other so-called sentimental socialists and anti-utilitarian social critics living in late-Victorian England.16 In xxxvi ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO…

Morris’s work in particular we can see the ambivalence with which this group of thinkers received the advent of the machine age. On the one hand, they recognized the usefulness of technology in so far as it held out the possibility of liberating mankind from the drudgery and tedium of many types of work. At the same time, however, Morris his mentor John Ruskin and their followers were adamantly opposed to the utilitarian idea of accepting machinery and mass production as the standards of excellence in modern society. Thus, in contrast to Bellamy, Morris had little faith in industrial progress. He also rejected Bellamy’s highly centralized and regimented model of state socialism in favor of a pastoral vision of communism, one which was, furthermore, clearly not meant to be a blueprint for a future society. In Morris’s eyes, the social order depicted in Bellamy’s future America had to be rejected in so far as it denied “the variety of life” that was implicit in communist doctrine (Kirschoff 1979, 129). As we have already said, his was a personal viewpoint that embodied the ideas and beliefs Morris brought to the English socialist movement—his knowledge of Norse and British mythology, for example. In Morris’s case we see that his enduring nostalgia for the distant past colors his portrait of society in the distant future, the twenty-first century. Inspired by the great epics and mythic legends of various cultures—Morris cited the Hebrew Bible, Homer, and Hesiod as works that had exercised a profound influence on him—Morris attempted in his socialist utopia to bridge the great intellectual schism that had divided modern culture into irrational and scientific categories. The extent to which Morris’s romance of the future influenced the Spanish anarchists is difficult to determine. By the late 1880s some of his socialist writings were known in Spain—translations of his works appeared in the highly regarded Acracia, for example. And it is probable that Mella and other Spaniards, who were avid readers of English-language publications, read News from Nowhere when it was first serialized in 1890 in the Commonweal, the journal of the Socialist League to which Morris belonged.17 In terms of its ideological message, locating News from Nowhere in the broad spectrum of socialist thought is also somewhat problematic. It is important to point out in this connection that, at the time of its publication, the editorial board of the League’s paper was under the control of a pro-anarchist faction. And while Morris himself strongly opposed the League’s drift toward anarchism, his socialist romance—which echoed ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO… xxxvii none of the core themes of classical Marxian economics or historical analysis—was not widely interpreted by anarchists merely as an expression of Morris’s Marxist ideas and beliefs.18 Rather they saw in the future society sketched out in his utopia a form of non-authoritarian communism that conformed to their own vision of a post-capitalist order. As the scholar George Woodcock has pointed out, Morris “… presented a vision – charm- ingly devoid of any suspicion of compulsion – of the kind of world that might appear if all the anarchist dreams of building harmony on the ruins of authority had the chance to come true” (Woodcock 1986, 23). Like Morris, then, anarchists wanted to create a new society organized around profoundly democratic principles which promoted social and economic harmony by emphasizing individual initiative and the spontaneous cooperation of all its citizens. No doubt it was the “un-Marxian” characteristics of News from Nowhere that also appealed to the anarchists in Spain.

Utopianism in Spain Like in other European countries, utopian literature found a small but receptive audience among the intelligentsia in Spain. French utopian theorists like Charles Fourier and Etienne Cabet were read by liberals and early socialists—the economic reformer Alvaro Florez Estrada, the social demo- crat Fernando Garrido, and other members of the Fourierist-minded Sixto Cámara, for example—and there were some small-scale attempts to erect falansterios—during the 1840s. Later in the century, when anarchism took root and spread throughout most of the Iberian Peninsula, pre-Marxist utopian socialisms of this sort seems to have had little impact on the development of anarchist ideology. In the main, early anarchist thinking was a synthesis of several philosophical perspectives which above all included the federal ideas and mutualism of Pierre-Joseph Proudhon and the collectivist views of Mikhail Bakunin. By the last quarter of the nineteenth century, however, anarchism had come to embrace a broader spectrum of libertarian influences. The introduction of anarchist communist theory in the mid- and late-1880s helped to popularize the ideas of the most sophis- ticated anarchist theorist in Europe, Peter Kropotkin as well as those of the Italian activist, Errico Malatesta.19 As has already been mentioned, it is also at this point that we see an attempt by some Spaniards to define an ecumenical form of anarchism—“anarquismo sin adjetivos”—which aimed to synthesize these disparate strands of thinking.20 xxxviii ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO…

While late nineteenth-century anarchism attracted followers because it offered a “scientific” understanding of society, its appeal was also rooted in a moral vision that was implicit in the doctrine. Like Marxian socialists, anarchists saw capitalism as a system that not only ruthlessly exploits the working or productive members of society economically but also represses them culturally and spiritually. By contrast, the revolutionary doctrine of anarchism promised to create a rationally ordered world in which social, economic, and natural resources would be enjoyed by everyone rather than just the privileged few. It was this exceedingly positive view of the future that inspired the utopian sentiments of anarchist intellectuals like Ricardo Mella. It must be made clear in this connection that Mella was not self-consciously attempting to resurrect the early tradition of pre-Marxist utopian discourses. Rather he seems to have adopted this literary form as a means of projecting his own anarchist beliefs to a broader audience. The fact that Mella closely followed the American, French, and British anarchist press meant that he would have been familiar with Bellamy’s and Morris’s utopian writings and the reac- tion to them in America and in Europe. It is highly likely, then, that Mella decided to compose a utopian work in part because of the reigning popularity of this form of writing. Another point that needs to be made here is that Mella’s work does not seem to be connected in spirit or in thought to the emergence of the anti-industrialism movement at the turn of the century. At this time, we see a number of Spanish thinkers who, following John Ruskin, William Morris, and other members of the arts and crafts movement, attempted to invest their anti-industrial aesthetics with a social message. Inspired by the ideals and values they associated with pre-industrial period, writers like Pío Baroja, Azorín, and Miguel Unamuno (cf., intrahistoria) were largely dissatisfied with the attributes of modern machine age and industrialization, developments which they believed had destroyed the natural and harmonious order of humankind. Rejecting the technological achievements of the modern era as well as the cultural and ethical system found in contemporary industrial society, this school of writers developed a back-ward looking aesthetic, one that attempted to recapture the values and beliefs of a distant and largely imagined past.21 ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO… xxxix

La Nueva Utopía/Segundo Certamen Socialista, Barcelona, 1889 In relating his fictionalized account of an anarchist society, Mella uses the framework of a narrative but otherwise he does not adopt the literary devices commonly used by other utopian writers. Thus, in contrast to Edward Bellamy and William Morris, two of the best known socialist utopian writers of this period, Mella tells his story without the aid of an eye- witness narrator and there is almost no dialogue from the characters. Mella’s fable takes place sometime in the distant future—several centuries from the present. The physical setting is in a tiny hamlet along the shores of the Cantabrian Sea, where the inhabitants “enjoy all the comforts that they desire and live in complete harmony with one another, never disturbed by the agitations so familiar to previous generations and other manners of living.” For centuries the pobres or poor inhabitants of the fishing village endured extreme hardships. Enslaved by superstition and the fear of the unknown, weakened by excessive work, and lacking proper food and education, these miserable souls lived as true pariahs. Then, following a profound social revolution, a new community arose. (Curiously, Mella does not tell the reader how this comes about, he only remarks in passing that it is a noisy and bloody affair.) Now, with the advent of La Nueva Utopía, the people in the region “enjoy all the comforts that they desire and they live in complete harmony with one another, never disturbed by the agitations so familiar to previous generations ….” The nucleus of workers who founded la Nueva Utopía faced numerous obstacles, not least being the reorganization of the economy and the complete moral rehabilitation of the people. After several centuries and the painstaking work of numerous generations of villagers (whose efforts were aided by science on the one hand and the ideals of liberty and justice on the other), the new material and moral order finally emerged. Mella had an abiding faith, as did many anarchists of his day, in the positive force of technology. In his utopia, therefore, machinery no longer competes against man but rather serves him. According to Mella, “The distinctive characteristics of the great city are iron and electrical power applied prodigiously to all of the combinations of the marvelous machine.” Thus, for example, machines are now performing all of the arduous and debilitating tasks formerly done by men and women, and it is also thanks to technology that the pollution and other evils of the capitalistic phase of xl ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO… industrialization have been eliminated. The landscape and architecture of the new village evoke the mathematical precision found in Renaissance utopias—Campanella’s City of the Sun, for example. For throughout Mella’s ideal setting, symmetry reigns supreme. The wretched living quar- ters of the villagers have given way to “great buildings perfectly aligned, separated by gardens where the neighborhood children happily play.” At the apex of the village are all the essential public facilities: schools, busi- nesses, social exchanges, medical buildings, libraries, museums as well as recreational establishments. Mella tells us that “One section of city is devoted to living space, while in the other part one sees immense manu- facturing plants, workshops, outdoor agricultural enterprises, large markets, combined with that beautiful and grandiloquent manifestation of human activity, labor” (Mella 1978, 239).

The Social System of La Nueva Utopía The social framework of La Nueva Utopía is grounded on two fundamental principles: liberty and equality. Natural resources—by which Mella means the forests, oil, gas, iron ores, and all other fruits of the earth—now belong to everyone, for private property has been abolished. When asked how the people who live in the ideal community perceive their new social relations, one of the residents replies, “We live in the middle of equality and justice, where the achievement of greater personal freedom makes for a more solid and more firm social order.” Binding the citizens together in this society is a system of reciprocal pacts (pactos signallamentos). These vital links, which are the only means by which individuals form concrete economic and social relationships, are highly flexible in that they can be rescinded or annulled at any time. Another unifying force in society is the general feeling of social solidarity, something that Mella stressed in nearly all of his writings. Mella believed, like all anarchists, that once capitalism and its attendant ethical system had been destroyed, people would no longer be guided by their self-interested passions (i.e., egoism) but rather would act out of feelings of solidarity for the good of everyone. Their lives no longer dominated by politics, religion, and other sources of social friction, the people of the new utopia need only worry about the general welfare of society. Out of the feeling of solidarity, for example, there arises the obligation to cure sick- ness and treat everyone who requires medical attention (these are the casas de correción medica or hospitals) (Mella 1978, 243). ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO… xli

Utopian Education Mella makes it clear in his novella that the education of the citizens of La Nueva Utopía is of the utmost importance. In the story, education is regarded as the principal means of molding a person’s character, a way of preparing him/her for life in the “ideal” community. The educational pro- gram that Mella sketches out is not confined to the schoolroom nor to any single setting but rather it is conducted at nearly every level of society. In order to instruct children without impinging upon their freedom, teachers in new utopia will introduce the fundamentals of reading, writing, and arithmetic in their games (juegos) and social diversions. Football or soccer provides an interesting example of how this will be accomplished: the football itself serves as an example of a geometric sphere, and its motion on the playing field will illustrate the law of gravity and other physical laws. At each stage of the child’s development, he/she will be introduced to another level of scientific understanding, and this learning process was supposed to continue throughout the life of an individual (Mella 1978, 241). Yet another dimension of the ideal society which Mella develops in his fable has to do with the conduct of citizens. Underlying his notion of a well- ordered future society is Mella’s belief in the necessity of moral consensus among the citizenry. A common concern of all anarchist theorists was to explain how crime and other “social diseases” would disappear under anarchism. For Mella, this problem is to be resolved gradually over time. Although his imagined village is not completely free of criminals—for it is not popu- lated by “angels”—the fundamental causes of most social crimes—robbery, for instance—have disappeared. Yet, Mella admits that, even though the sociological basis of crime has been destroyed, there always remains the possibility of a crime being committed. He explains that this is because:

In nature there are rare phenomena, rare exceptions to the general rule; and these phenomena, these exceptions are no more predictable than any physical, intellectual, or moral imbalance. At times nature breaks with her regular pattern, or, rather, is perturbed by the intervention of some outside agent. (Mella 1978, 243–244)

Mella thought of all social phenomena as being analogous to the state of nature. He therefore believed that it was possible to correct or “cure” all socially based behavioral problems. He insisted that it was the obligation of society as a whole to discover the agents or causes of social diseases so that they could eventually destroy it and thereby reestablish social equilibrium. xlii ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO…

The society that emerges in Mella’s tale is one that in nearly respect conforms to the principles of all anarchist schools of thought. Significantly, it is not dominated by a particular type of economic system, although Mella makes it clear that collectivism is without question the superior form of economic arrangement. In La Nueva Utopía men and women are free to choose whatever form of exchange they are predisposed to: “If the worker wishes to reserve the right to exchange the products of his labor, no one will impede him; if he wishes to donate his products to the community at large, no one will stop him; if he wants to turn them over to a cooperative, he is free to do so.” That Mella seemed to be advocating a “mixed” libertarian economy was precisely why his novella was so highly regarded within the entire anarchist community. Even his most persistent critics grudgingly accepted it as an admirable synthesis of the different (and competing) anarchist systems. Another reason why La Nueva Utopía had a wide appeal was the optimistic spirit of revolutionism it conveyed. In this brief but richly detailed story, Mella had not just sounded themes that all anarchists could endorse; he had, above all, succeeded in conjuring up a vision of anarchist society which appeared to be eminently realizable.

La Nueva Utopía in the Socialist Utopian Tradition Mella’s fictional piece is not easily classified primarily because it represents a mixture of various intellectual traditions: the elements of the early socialist utopias are clearly present in it, but so, too, are the elements of the moral utopias of the Renaissance. Also informing his work is his commitment to positivist assumptions. From the positivists, including, among others, Auguste Comte and Herbert Spencer, Mella had inherited two basic suppositions: an abiding faith in science and its ability to explain the progress of human society and the belief in the perfectibility of mankind. Mella followed the positivists in holding that science was the key that unlocked the mysteries of society. By using the scientific method of inves- tigation, they believed it was possible to determine not only the laws of social development but also the direction in which society was evolving. And, as we have seen, science was regarded as the panacea for all social ills, enabling man to eliminate such “diseases” as poverty and crime. Like his contemporary, Peter Kropotkin, Mella also followed Spencer in seeing ethics or man’s moral conceptions as a product of his social development. Thus, like Spencer, Mella believed that the rules governing moral conduct in society should be founded on a scientific basis. ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO… xliii

Although science becomes the deus ex machina that Mella invokes as a means of providing the physical comforts of his utopia, this did not neces- sarily mean that he was concerned primarily with the material well-being of society. Rather, his vision of human progress focused on the intellectual and moral improvement of society, which he makes clear could not be attained by material means alone. Like the early utopian socialists, whose ideas were steeped in the tradition of the Enlightenment, Mella shared the belief in the rational nature of man and in the consequent possibilities of his improvement. He also followed them in believing that a new ordering of society in accordance with rational principles would not only be virtuous and just but also prac- ticable. Mella himself perceived the moral degeneracy of contemporary society as a function of the bourgeois social forms that had developed under capitalism. In his eyes, these institutions had given rise to social and economic relations afflicted with highly destructive class divisions. He therefore maintained that the prevailing ethics of such a system was exceedingly egotistical, and, as a result, it was irredeemably bankrupt. But, under anarchism—where institutions developed spontaneously and uncor- rupted by bourgeois values—Mella thought it possible to establish harmonious relationships between man and man and between man and nature. In this connection, it is important to recall from our previous discussion that, in writing La Nueva Utopía, Mella was not attempting to define anarchism as a form of utopian thinking as it was then understood by social theorists. At the time, “utopia” was used to refer to a static, perfect state of affairs, one that was impossible to realize. As we have seen, Marxian socialists used the term to disparage their political opponents. To be utopian was, at least for the Marxists, to be unscientific. Anarchists like Mella, however, interpreted their utopian fiction differently. For them this genre could be used as a vehicle for discussing the abstract concepts of their doctrine. Apart from its pointed message to the dogmatic elements in the anarchist movement, one of the main reasons for writing a fictionalized account of anarchist society was that it served to illustrate how good life could be if it were ordered according to anarchist beliefs and principles. By painting an appealing picture of what anarchism potentially held for mankind, Mella was not only holding up a mirror to what he perceived as the degen- erate society of his day but also giving the common person a goal to work toward. As such, his utopia served an important ideological purpose. For all his efforts, though, Mella’s fable did not inspire a second wave of socialist utopian literature in Spain. This was true despite the fact that other articles relating to the subject appeared sporadically in the anarchist press xliv ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO… between 1890 and 1905.22 There are several reasons for this. One has to do with the literary quality of the work itself. Writing with considerable energy and elegance, Mella nonetheless produced a work of limited popular appeal. In fact, as eloquently expressed as his narrative is, the work itself is brief and focused on a storyline that was a thinly veiled response to the collectivist/ communist controversy within the libertarian community. In Mella’s defense, it should be pointed out that some of these same criticisms can be leveled at others who attempted to write in this genre, and even Bellamy’s popular romance is not without its major literary flaws. There must be other reasons, then, why La Nueva Utopía failed to find a wider audience. The fact that it was written in Spanish by an anarchist and intended exclusively for the libertarian community is one of the most important ones. To a much greater extent than in Bellamy’s America, Spain was, during the 1880s and 1890s, a society riven by ideological discord. At the time Mella wrote his novella class tensions were running high and the anarchists in particular were looked upon by most as an insular community that had nothing of value to say to the rest of society. It is therefore scarcely surprising that the revolutionary message contained in La Nueva Utopía (as well as Mella’s other writings) found little echo among the mostly middle-class reading audience in Spain. This is not to say that another work with a similar revolutionary bent would not have found an audience. For, as we have already seen, a certain number of middle-class writers and artists—Baroja, Unamuno, Picasso, Nonell, are examples—enthusiastically received William Morris’s socialist romance. No doubt Mella’s work was passed by them, not because it force- fully and directly challenged the established order, but because it lacked the aesthetical appeal of News from Nowhere. The glorification of science and the age of machinery which is echoed throughout La Nueva Utopía hardly appealed to the tastes of this school of aesthetically minded social critics who were just coming of age when Mella wrote his novel. Thus, even though they also longed for an alternative future, their vision of a new social order was inspired by an entirely different standard of art and beauty. In the end, Mella’s novel should be remembered for the place it rightly occupies in the history of anarchist ideology. As I hope I have made clear here, La Nueva Utopía testifies to the fact that the Spanish anarchists contributed to the second-wave of socialist utopian writings. And for this reason alone, the clarification of the relationship between anarchism and the utopian genre of literature is long overdue.

Gainesville, USA George Richard Esenwein ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO… xlv

Notes 1. Portions of this essay are based on two previous works by the author: Anarchist Ideology and the Working-class Movement in Spain, 1868–1898 (Berkeley, 1989), and “An Alternative Future: Spanish Anarchism and Utopianism in Nineteenth-Century Spain,” paper presented to the Spanish Studies Round Table, University of Illinois at Chicago: April 2, 1993. 2. The most notable examples of anarchist intellectuals who managed to earn a living primarily through their publishing activities were Juan Monsteny (Federico Urales) and Teresa Mañe (Soledad Gustavo). Until age twenty- five, Urales worked as a cooper. Thereafter, he and his lifelong compañera, Soledad Gustavo, devoted themselves to teaching, writing, and publishing. Another prominent intellectual, Fernando Tarrida del Mármol, was one of the very few anarchists who received a university education. Trained as a civil engineer, Tarrida later became a professor of mathematics and director of the Polytechnic School of Barcelona. 3. Mella was born into a modest household in Vigo. His father was a hatter (sombrerero) who held strong federal republican beliefs. Mella himself joined the federal movement at age sixteen. 4. Mella also wrote short stories and was an accomplished translator. For example, his translation of Bakunin’s God and State was serialized in the widely circulated La Revista Social in 1885. 5. With few exceptions, this aspect of Mella’s thinking has been relatively overlooked by previous studies of Spanish anarchism. See, for example, José Luis Ramos-Gorostiza, “Socio-economic Utopianism in Spain at the End of the Nineteenth Century: La Nueva Utopía by Ricardo Mella,” in Utopian Studies, Vol. 20, number 1, 2009, pp. 5–39. 6. According to Mella “We [anarchists] do not offer schemes of future society because we do not promulgate ideas that have been predetermined. Our ideals are the result of experimental observations, based on past and present points of view that affirm the elimination of all that is poorly understood by future projections.” 7. Juan López-Morillas, “From ‘Dreams of Reason’ to ‘Dreams of Unreason’,” in Survey, London, Winter, 1972, pp. 47–62. 8. It should be remembered, however, that these thinkers did not see themselves as utopian writers or économistes utopistes as they were labeled by Jérome-Adolphe Blanqui, one of the first critics to use the word “utopian” as a negative epithet. 9. The utopian literary tradition underwent yet another metamorphosis in the twentieth century: the dystopian works of Evgeny Zamyatin, H.G. Wells, Huxley, and Orwell can be included here. 10. But, if this is true, then we need to know more about the utopian traditions in Italy and Russia at this time. xlvi ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO…

11. Socialism and American Life, Volume 2. Edited by Donald Drew Egbert and Stow Persons. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1952, pp. 462–467. 12. On the political appeal of Bellamy’s book, see, Francis A. Walker, “Mr. Bellamy and the New Nationalist Party,” The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 65, Issue 388, pp. 248–263. 13. Marie Louise Berneri, Journey through Utopia, Routledge & Kegan Paul Ltd.: London, 1950. 14. For a defense of Bellamy’s work against the criticisms of socialists like Morris, see, Arthur E. Morgan, Edward Bellamy: A Biography of the author of “Looking Backward.” New York: Columbia University Press, 1944, pp. 385–409. 15. News from Nowhere, Edited and introduced by James Redmond, Routledge: London, 1976, p. xviii.) See also, William Morris and E. Belfort Bax, Socialism: Its Growth and Outcome, London: Swan Sonnenschein & Co., 1893, chapter xxi, pp. 287–322. 16. Whether News from Nowhere demonstrated that Morris was not a Marxist has been the subject of debate since its initial publication in 1890. See, for example, E.P. Thompson, William Morris: Romantic to Revolutionary, New York: Pantheon, 1976, pp. 763–816. 17. According to Ramos-Gorostiza, in 1903 the socialist intellectual J.J. Morato was the first Spaniard to translateNews from Nowhere into Spanish. See, Ramos-Gorostiza, “Spanish Utopianism, “Utopian Studies, (20:1), p. 28. 18. The extent to which Morris’s publication conformed to Marxist thinking about future society is taken up by A.L. Morton in his essay, “Morris, Marx and Engels,” paper submitted as a contribution to a colloquium on William Morris held at Karl Marx University, Leipzig, October 25–26, 1984. 19. A tiny faction of anarchist communists led by the sevillano Miguel Rubio debuted at the Seville Congress in 1882. 20. See, George Esenwein, Anarchist Ideology and the Working-class Movement in Spain, 1868–1898, University of California Press: Berkeley/Oxford, 1989, pp. 146ff. The term “Anarchism without Adjectives” was most likely coined by Fernando Tarrida del Mármol. See his, “Questiones de Táctica: La anarquia sin adjectivos,” in Le Révolté, 7 August, 1890. 21. On the anti-industrial literary and artistic movement in Spain, see, Lily Litvak’s important, A Dream of Arcadia: Anti-Industrialism in Spanish Literature, 1895–1905., Austin: University of Texas Press, 1975. 22. See, for example, “Sociologia y utopia” in Ciencia Social, 1895, and the various articles relating to utopia which appeared in La Revista Blanca reprinted in Els Anarquistes Educators del Poble: “La Revista Blanca” (1898–1905), Barcelona: Editat Curial, 1977, pp. 302–323. ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO… xlvii

References Adams, Matthew S. 2015. Kropotkin, Read, and the Intellectual History of British Anarchism. New York/Houndmills, Basingstroke: Palgrave/Macmillan. Álvarez Junco, José. 1976. La Ideología Política del Anarquismo Español, 1868–1910. Madrid: Siglo XXI. Anarchism and utopianism. 2009. Edited by Laurence Davis and Ruth Kinna, with a Preface by Peter Marshall. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Els Anarquistes Educators del Poble: “La Revista Blanca” (1898–1905), Barcelona: Editat Curial, 1977. Avrich, Paul. 1978. An American Anarchist: The Life of Voltairine de Cleyre. Princeton: Princeton University Press. ———. 1988. Anarchist Portraits. Princeton: Princeton University Press. ———. 1996. Anarchist Voices: An Oral History of Anarchism in America. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Baer, James A. 2015. Anarchist Immigrants in Spain and Argentina. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Berneri, Marie Louise. 1950. Journey through Utopia. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Brenan, Gerald. 1971. The Spanish Labyrinth: An Account of the Social and Political Background of the Spanish Civil War. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Durán, J.A. 1977. Entre el anarquismo agrario y el librepensamiento. Madrid: Akal. Esenwein, George R. 1989. Anarchist Ideology and the Working-class Movement in Spain, 1868–1898. Berkeley: University of California Press. ———. 1993. “An Alternative Future: Spanish Anarchism and Utopianism in Nineteenth-Century Spain,” Unpublished paper presented to the Spanish Studies Round Table, University of Illinois at Chicago: April 2. Fernández Álvarez, Antón. 1990. Ricardo Mella: El Anarquismo Humanista. Madrid: Anthropos. Freidberg, P. 1915. “Tarrida del Marmol.” The Socialist Review: 682–688. Girón Sierra, Alvaro. 1996. Evolucionismo y Anarquismo en España, 1882–1914. Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, (CSIC). Kinna, Ruth. 2005. Anarchism: A beginner’s guide. Oxford: Oneworld. Kirschoff, Frederick. 1979. William Morris. Boston: Twayne Publisher. Kropotkin, Peter. 1968. Ethics: Origins and Development. New York/London: Benjamin Blom. ———. 1975. Fields, Factories and Workshops Tomorrow. Edited and introduced by Colin Ward. New York: Harper & Row. Litvak, Lily. 1975. A Dream of Arcadia: Anti-Industrialism in Spanish Literature, 1895–1905. Austin: University of Texas Press. López-Morillas, Juan. 1972. “From `Dreams of Reason’ to `Dreams of Unreason.’“Survey, London, Winter: 47–62. xlviii ANARCHIST INTELLECTUALS: THE “UTOPIAN” LEGACY OF RICARDO…

Looking Backward: Essays on Edward Bellamy. Edited by Daphne Patai. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1988. Marshall, Peter. 1993. A History of Anarchism. Hammersmith: Fontana Press. Mella, Ricardo. 1976. Breves apuntes sobre las pasiones humanas. Barcelona: Tusquets. ———. 1978. Forjando un mundo libre. Madrid: La Piqueta. ———. 1975. Ideario. Toulouse: Ediciones C.N.T. ———. 1978. El Pensamiento de Ricardo Mella. Selección, prólogo y notas de1 B. Cano Ruíz. México, D.F.: Editores Mexicanos Unidos. Morgan, Arthur E. 1944. Edward Bellamy: A Biography of the author of “Looking Backward.” New York: Columbia University Press. Morris, William. 1976. News from Nowhere. Edited by James Redmond. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Morris, William and Bax, E. Belfort. 1893. Socialism: Its Growth and Outcome, London: Swan Sonnenschein & Co. Morton, A.L., 1984. “Morris, Marx and Engels,” Unpublished paper submitted as a contribution to a colloquium on William Morris held at Karl Marx University, Leipzig, October 25–26. Nettlau, Max. 1996. A Short History of Anarchism. London: Freedom Press. Oved, Iaacov. 1978. El Anarquismo y el Movimiento Obrero en Argentina. México, D.F.: Siglo XXI. Rama, Carlos. 1977. Utopismo Socialista (1830–1893). Caracas: Biblioteca Ayacucho. Ramos-Gorostiza, José Luis. 2009. “Socio-economic Utopianism in Spain at the End of the Nineteenth Century: La Nueva Utopía by Ricardo Mella.” Utopian Studies, Vol. 20, Number 1: 5–39. Sentis Biarnau, Ramón. 1985. “Federico Urales.” Orto: Revista Cultural de Ideas Ácratas, Año vi, May–June: 23–24, 27–30. Socialism and American Life, Volumes 1–2. Editors Donald Drew Egbert and Stow Persons. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1952. Thompson, Edward P. 1976. William Morris: Romantic to Revolutionary. New York: Pantheon. Utopias. Edited by Peter Alexander and Roger Gill. London: Duckworth, 1984. Walker, Francis A. “Mr. Bellamy and the New Nationalist Party.” The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 65, Issue 388: 248–263. Woodcock, George. 1986. Anarchism: A History of Libertarian Ideas and Movements. Ricardo Mella’s Urbanism: Thought and Practice

Do not put walls around thought. (Mella 1926, 192)

In order to understand the contradictions and discontents of Spain’s nineteenth-century urban modernity, this critical introduction explores the connections between Ricardo Mella’s newspaper and journal articles and their nineteenth-century urban contexts, principally his hometown of Vigo, and puts those connections in dialogue with Henri Lefebvre (1901–1991), Gilles Deleuze (1925–1995), and Félix Guattari (1930–1992), twentieth-century urban theorists who have criticized modernist urban planning. The objective of this analysis is to elucidate how nineteenth-century Spanish realist art in conjunction with urban space contributed to Mella’s anarchist thought, specifically, to his concept of literary synthesis. Mella, in the quote that opens this introduction, suggests that there is a relation between anarchist thought and geography. He is not alone. More recently, Federico Ferretti has argued that:

there have been historical correspondences between the two terms, because some of the international ‘Founding Fathers’ of the anarchist movement were concurrently world-renowned geographers, including Élisée Reclus (1830-1905) and Pyotr Kropotkin (1842-1921). (Ferretti 2019, 1)

Mella, a significant forefather of Spanish anarchism, was not a world- renowned geographer; however, he was a topographical engineer. His job as a map-maker led him to the conclusion that borders are arbitrary (Hope

xlix l RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE

1891b) and should not be imposed on physical or mental spatialities. Simon Springer asserts that, with regard to delimiting borders and the necessity of the state, “[i]t is this very question—rooted in the structuring of socio-spatial organization—that continues to animate the concerns of many contemporary anarchists” (Springer 2013, 49). Not only did geography inform Mella’s anarchist thought, so did literature. In fact, an interest in literature is what makes Mella unique as an anarchist thinker. That is not to say that Mella eschewed science. On the contrary, he shared with fellow anarchist theorists Reclus and Kropotkin the belief that the bases of socialism, cooperation, and revolution are rooted in science (Ferretti 2019, 13; Mella 1978, 65–75; Springer 2013, 50). However, for Mella, literature is also an essential source of theoretical inspiration. Kropotkin was similarly passionate about literature and understood that literature, science, and history share the same objective, namely, to explain everyday life (Kropotkin 1915). However, Kropotkin was recognized as “a world famous scientist” (Kropotkin and McKay 2014, 90) whose preponderance of theoretical inspiration was scientific and not literary. My contribution to the body of essays written on Mella, the city, and anarchism is to affirm that nineteenth-century realist art (realist stories and paintings), in conjunction with science and history, serves as means of mass transportation, as metaphorai in de Certeau’s terms (1984, 115), to take Mella (and us along with him) to a better understanding of the urban in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Spain.

Mella and the City Mella directs his contempt for imposed divisions to cities.1 In fact, he defines the nineteenth-century city as a prison walled-off from nature (Mella 1906, 1). For Mella, utopic, future cities will blur the boundaries between fixed binaries such as town/country and urban/nature. He boldly proclaims: “We will carry the cities to the country and we will bring the country to the cities […] nature recovered and intensely enjoyed: that is the future as metaphor and as reality …” (Mella 1906, 1). Mella’s texts seem more relevant than ever because they fit perfectly within contemporary, emerging scholarship on the relationship between the urban and nature in the fields of geography and urban studies. More specifically, there is a growing number of scholars who question and move beyond the urban/nature binary (Brenner 2013; Guattari 1989; Swyngedouw 2011). Matthew Feinberg and Susan Larson “encourage us to think of the city as RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE li an ecosystem of cultural, political, and material relationships” (2016, 115). In other words, cities and nature are not separate but coterminous. The environment is, at the same time, both built and natural as well as cultural. Guattari argues that “[i]t is quite simply wrong to regard action on the psyche, the socius, and the environment as separate” (1989, 34). He extends the permeability between city and nature to self. Stacy Alaimo concurs and states that “we are permeable, emergent beings, reliant upon the others within and outside our porous borders” (2010, 156). Mella’s call for “nature recovered” (1906, 1) is a philosophical entreaty to equate the social phenomena, including the urban, with the state of nature, with evolution (Mella 1978, 72). Mella defines evolution as “a constant movement by virtue of which everything is modified and changes until it reaches its total development” (Mella 1978, 65). The natural city implied by Mella’s supplication “makes the city,” as Deleuze and Guattari would put it, “disgorge a patchwork, differentials of speed, delays and accelerations, changes in orientation, continuous variations …” (my emphasis; 1987, 482). The city with porous borders open to nature is not static, but constantly evolving, and, as such, according to Guattari, “concerns itself solely with the movement and intensity of evolutive processes” (1989, 136). Mella’s understanding of the city is at odds with modern urban planning in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Urban planners such as Baron Haussmann (1809–1891) in France and Ildefons Cerdà (1815–1876) in Spain view the city as a fixed, geometrical grid of streets and buildings. In contrast with Mella’s city as process, Fraser points out that “Cerdà and others were motivated most of all by the desire to construct the city as a product, as an object of contemplation, as a representation of humankind’s rational domination of nature” (2009, 373). Urban space is conceived as a sum total of fragmented shapes and lines reduced to a flat map. Eighteenth- and nineteenth-century urban planners like Cerdà are rational because they think the city analytically by manipulating abstract designs detached from material reality. Planar spatiality reduces the city to an abstract totality of mathematically precise measurements and statistics which, in turn, facilitates the partitioning of space into market- able parts. Hence, Fraser reminds us that “Cerdà and other nineteenth- century urban planners helped to create and institutionalize city-planning as a bourgeois science” (my emphasis; 2011, 187). Mella is also rational, scientific, and mathematically precise. He, too, seeks a new ordering of society in accordance with rational principles. lii RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE

However, Mella’s and Cerdà’s understanding of the term “rational” is completely different. While “rational” for Cerdà means analytical, transcendental, and abstract, for Mella, it is the exact opposite: rational principles are those that are based on material reality and lived experiences. Mella glorifies science and goes to great lengths to emphasize the scientific underpinnings of libertarian beliefs. He states that anarchism:

is not mere political denial but a complete philosophy that explains facts and their causes, that studies phenomena and ideas keeping within the relativity of all things, that brings together, in short, experience and science—in reality they are the same—in a harmonious whole made up of, at the same time, the acquisition of ideas and of practice … Anarchist socialism follows, as we have said, its own method, opposed to all dogmatism, and does not establish any principle a priori: it does not generalize observed facts a poste- riori and only to the extent that acquired knowledge permits, and it does not lend itself to the closed systematization of knowledge, rejecting at all cost philosophical systematization because it understands that science is a body of knowledge in continuous formation whose cycle will never close. (my translation, Mella 1926, 13, 14-15)

Science, for Mella, is an experience-based method of knowledge acquisition that does not give primacy to infrastructures, structures, or systems. It is a continuously evolving process. Therefore, Mella would criticize the bourgeois science of nineteenth-century city-planning as an arbitrary science because it represents the city as an abstract totality instead of a constantly changing totality. It is arbitrary science that Guattari attacks when he says that “there is an urgent need for us to free ourselves of scientistic references and metaphors: to forge new paradigms which are instead ethico-aesthetic in inspiration” (1989, 132). Guattari’s aesthetic paradigm, like Mella’s science, sees the value in creative experimentation, in the process itself, because constant experimentation is not bound by predetermined constraints. Mella explains: “We do not offer diagrams of the future because we do not propagate predetermined ideas” (my translation, Mella 1926, 17-18). As opposed to the conceived space of diagrams and maps propagated by nineteenth-century urban planners like Cerdà, Lefebvre champions what he calls representational spaces, “space as directly lived through its associated images and symbols” (original emphasis; Lefebvre 1991, 39), because, when creative imagination is instanta- neously experienced in everyday life, change is possible. Lefebvre’s lived RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE liii space in conjunction with Guattari’s aesthetic paradigm is Mella’s science, for Mella’s radical ideas as well as those of anarchism “are the experimental result of each moment” (my translation, Mella 1926, 18). A nineteenth-century urban planner who does share Mella’s belief that the city should be simultaneously designed and lived is Arturo Soria (1844–1920). Like Mella, Soria is critical of urban planning driven mainly by the interests of the wealthy. In order to stop property speculation caused by the combination of a bourgeois conception of property as one that grants exclusive usage rights with a rational view of the city as easily divisible, geometrically shaped plots of land, Soria proposes the Linear City of Madrid in 1886. The goal of the Linear City can be summarized by its slogan: a house for every family, and a garden and a backyard at every house (my translation; del Castillo 1913, 32). In an effort to redis- tribute wealth, poor families would be given a house and land to farm, and factory workers and their families would live, not separated from, but alongside the owners (Sambricio 1982, 27). It would be a community without social classes. Therefore, unlike Cerdà, Soria distances himself from bourgeois values. However, Soria’s project is also considered an example of rational design, for, as del Castillo points out:

Life in a linear garden city with regular shapes, straight streets and rectangular or square lots is more comfortable as well as cheaper than life in a garden city with irregularly shaped lots and narrow and tortuous streets because, among other reasons, one loses more time in travel, in the shipping of groceries and in all the movements of urban life in general. (my translation; del Castillo 1913, 31)

As the name indicates, the form of the Linear City is determined by the straight line of a system of train and streetcar tracks. The main street of the Linear City runs parallel to the tracks and is traversed by a series of perpen- dicular streets. Soria, as well as Mella, supports the science that leads to industrialization and other technological achievements such as the electric streetcar. However, as Fernández Álvarez suggests:

For Mella and Spanish anarchists, progress is understood as moral improvement. In his writings, it is not difficult to find songs of praise for the spectacular achievements of physical-natural sciences and for their influence in the transformation of the conditions of human life; nevertheless, we ought to clarify that this defense of technology is only valid if it helps to free man liv RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE

from the brutality and inhumanity of physical work and contributes to a more just organization of work and social relations. (my translation; Fernández Álvarez 1990, 123)

In other words, Mella is materialistic or scientific in Marxian terms (“Anarchist Intellectuals” xxx), and utopian at the same time. Esenwein in his contribution to this edited volume, “Anarchist Intellectuals: The ‘Utopian’ Legacy of Ricardo Mella, 1861–1925,” reminds us that “the revolutionary doctrine of anarchism promised to create a rationally ordered world in which social, economic, and natural resources would be enjoyed by everyone rather than just the privileged few” (“Anarchist Intellectuals” xxxvi, my emphasis). Both Soria and Mella regard technology, if shared, as an important key to future social equality. Although Soria’s and Mella’s city designs are similar (Sambricio 1982; Mella 1978, 235–266), the designs are realized differently. For Soria, the State, regional, and local governments play a decisive role and should decree laws that facilitate more socially inclusive urban planning. Del Castillo explains:

The State, upon taking into account the objectives that the ‘linear cities’ attempt to achieve, the problems that they try to resolve, the wealth that they create and spread among the social classes, should declare the public utility of the Linear City, and once the founding company’s blueprints, sketches, statutes, etc., have been approved, should allow the Linear City the power to enact the law of forced expropriation in order to acquire the land necessary for streets and blocks. (my translation; del Castillo 1913, 35)

Mella, on the other hand, envisions the design of a socially just city to be driven, not by laws, but by the common good. He argues in the “The Uselessness of Laws” that:

The belief that law is the guarantee of freedom is […] an error, one that is so generalized, but an error all the same. No, law is and will always be freedom’s limitation, which is to say its negation. (my translation, Mella 1926, 147)

Instead of laws, freely arranged agreements between individuals and groups will determine harmonious and universal solutions of social coexistence. In a statement to the International Revolutionary Congress of the Working People in Paris in May 1900, Mella affirms that “anarchist RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE lv collectivism aspires to the spontaneous organization of society through free pacts” (my translation, Mella 1926, 24). However, this spontaneous organization will only be successful when the notion of private property is eliminated. That is, the coexistence of individual autonomy and social harmony is only possible when natural resources and the tools of production are shared (not private), and the fruits of one’s individual labor is one’s own, and not that of a third-person proprietor. These are the conditions that, according to Guattari, lead to “the proliferation of alternative experi- ments which both respect singularity, and work permanently at the production of a subjectivity that is simultaneously autonomous, yet articulates itself in relation to the rest of society” (Guattari 1989, 142). Mella’s own alternative experiment in city design is reflected in his novella La Nueva Utopía written in 1889 for the Second Socialist Literary Competition in Barcelona. In it, his embrace of coexistence and simultaneity informs his utopic vision of the city in two ways. First, as was mentioned above, Mella blurs the city/country binary. He comments:

The buildings dedicated to housing satisfy all of the prescriptions of hygiene and science: sufficient space, abundant air and light, water everywhere […] The separation of the buildings by means of gardens has annulled the unhealthy effects of the agglomeration of the big cities. (Mella 1978, 239–240)

Second, he opposes the segregation of social classes. Instead of living in separate neighborhoods and in different sized houses, the rich and the poor cohabitate in indistinguishable constructions. Mella emphasizes that “[d]ifferences do not exist: the palace and the shack have merged in the modern building prescribed by science” (Mella 1978, 240). The spatial and social integration achieved in La Nueva Utopía criticizes the arbitrariness of borders experienced by Mella in his hometown of Vigo, specifically, the old wall surrounding the city and the broad avenue splitting the city center in two.

Late Nineteenth-Century Urbanism in Vigo The exponential growth of the capital cities of Europe, including Madrid, during the nineteenth century produces the new cultural phenomenon of the masses and the big-city crowd. One can now feel overwhelmed and alienated amid the vast number of people and the accelerated pace of life. lvi RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE

The traditional rooted space of the town gives way to the unrooted space of the city. Williams summarizes this new condition:

Struggle, indifference, loss of purpose, loss of meaning—features of nineteenth-century social experience and of a common interpretation of the new scientific worldview—have found in the City, a habitation and a name. (Williams 1973, 239)

Vigo, although not a capital city, also experiences a spectacular growth in which its population more than doubles between 1857 and 1900 from approximately 11,000 to 28,000 (Carmona Badía 1990, 36; González Martín 1991, 20; Rodríguez 2005, 6; Lomba and Pereira 2014, 13). The urban experience of alienation is not only the result of the inability to connect with individual people and to create communities, it is also the product of economic and social inequalities between city dwellers. The spatial aspect of cities reflects these inequalities. The key spatial aspect of Vigo, according to Martínez López, that begins to demarcate economic and social inequalities is the old wall surrounding the city first constructed in 1665 (See Fig. 1). He argues:

The wall, therefore, because of the dates of its construction and continuation, marks social and spatial divisions that pertain as much to the preindustrial period as to the capitalist growth of the city. Where social groups live, inside or outside the wall […], will determine the relations between them and the spatial elements … (Martínez González 1996-1997, 319)

The function of the wall was to protect the city from attack. Those not deemed worthy of protection—the poor—were marginalized metaphori- cally and literally. They lived on the edge of society and outside of the wall. Unattractive spaces were also excluded. Because the open-air fish market in the Berbés neighborhood always emitted an unbearably strong odor of fish, it was not included within the perimeters of the wall (Martínez López 1996–1997, 320). High on the hill overlooking the city sits the San Sebastian Castle. This enormous structure throws a great deal of shade on the area to its west and southwest. Due to its “poor orientation” (original emphasis; Martínez López 1996–1997, 320), Santiago Street and the Falperra neighborhood are dark and humid, and, as a result, were rejected by the rich and left for the poor. RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE lvii

Fig. 1 The old walls and doors of Vigo based on Francisco Coello’s 1856 map by David Yan

This dynamic of inside/outside of the wall will get complicated with the arrival of Catalonian immigrants beginning in the second half of the eighteenth century (González Pérez 2005, 453). Vigo’s industrial bourgeoisie of Catalonian descent will make its money in the sardine and canning industries (Carmona Badía 1985, 187; Rodríguez 2005, 20). New residential spaces would be needed to house this growing segment of the population. However, unlike the small-scale merchants, the industrialists will look outside the wall to build their mansions. In consonance with lviii RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE the trend of the ensanches [new development areas] in Barcelona and Madrid in which the old part of the corresponding cities is extended into a unified section of rectangular lots and straight streets, Vigo’s new class of rich industrialists approve in 1870 Emilio García Olloqui’s plan to build nine blocks next to the northern shore east of the old wall and north of Pontevedra Street (González Pérez 2005, 456). Even though the wall around Vigo is demolished at the end of the nineteenth century (Martínez López 1996–1997, 318), the social divisions are not. In fact, social fragmentation is exacerbated by the construction of a great boulevard which splits the old city center in two (see Fig. 2). In order to facilitate access to the historic city center and to connect Pontevedra- Ourense Street in the northeast with Baiona-Tui Street in the southwest, Elduayen Street is built in 1891. This project to open up the old part of town with a major thoroughfare is consistent with rational city-planning of the nineteenth century (Sánchez García 2013, 160). The wide avenue, however, becomes the new border, replacing the recently demolished wall.

Fig. 2 The social-spatial segregation of neighborhoods, streets, and markets using Ramiro Pascual’s 1907 map of Vigo by David Yan. RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE lix

The Ferrería neighborhood to the south of Elduayen Street, once part of the city center, is now isolated from it. This new isolation in conjunction with its reputation for being a “bad” part of town heightened its social fragmentation (Martínez López 1996–1997, 320). The industrialists showed little concern for the alienation and spatial- ization of class in Vigo. Nevertheless, a new group soon would. Because of Spain’s loss of its last colonies in the Americas in 1898, many natives of Vigo, who had previously emigrated and made their fortunes in the New World, returned. Lomba and Pereira point out that:

The majority of those rich Spanish emigrants who returned to Spain after having made a fortune in Latin America felt the need to settle a debt with the land in which they had been born and left, and […] they employed their money generously and, from their enviable social position, they drove forward many projects and made public works a major importance. (my translation; Lomba and Peirera 2014, 15)

The emigrants were interested in improving the city center and felt more attachment to the old part of town than did the Catalonian immigrants. One of the urban improvements they funded was the electric streetcar. Mella returns to Vigo in 1908 called by Ramiro Pascual to help him finalize the 1907 Extension and Reform Project. Martín Echegaray takes advantage of Mella’s presence to ask him to direct the construction of the streetcars. In 1911, Mella is named director of the Technical Department of Tranvías Eléctricos de Vigo [Electric Streetcars of Vigo]. In addition to connecting neighborhoods within Vigo, one of the objectives of the company was to link Vigo with surrounding towns in the countryside. Therefore, the streetcar network followed the four principal roads leading into and out of Vigo: the road connecting Bouzas and Berbés; the road linking Bayona and Tui with the Falperra neighborhood; the road toward Ourense and Castilla from the Puerta del Sol; and the road toward Pontevedra from the Gamboa Door (see Fig. 3). Similar to the way in which many small-scale markets located in various neighborhoods within the city center promoted the constant movement of city dwellers from one neighborhood to another, and thus facilitated the per- ception of porous borders between neighborhoods (see Fig. 4), so too the streetcars made travel less difficult from the suburbs and the country to those very same markets, and, as a result, loosened the city/country binary. The streetcars not only carried to market rural men and women lx RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE

Fig. 3 The old roads out of the city center using Francisco Coello’s 1856 map of Vigo by David Yan selling bread, milk, eggs, wood, and wooden shoes (Lomba and Pereira 2014, 74), but also rural men and women who worked in the shipyards and the canning factories in Coia and Bouzas (Lomba and Pereira 2014, 55–56). Mella’s belief in the project to bring the streetcar to Vigo stemmed from two sources: (1) his first-hand knowledge of what it meant to ride Madrid’s streetcars during his exile in the capital from 1883 to 1887; and (2) the literary representation of the lived experience of the streetcar in Galdós’ and Clarín’s short stories. RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE lxi

Fig. 4 Various markets in Vigo using Pascual’s 1907 map by David Yan

The Lived Experience of the Streetcar as Mella’s Literary Synthesis If, before, I liked to read Proudhon, Bakounine, Marx, Ricardo, Smith and other such geniuses of the social and economic sciences, today I delight in reading Zola and Daudet, Alarcón and Valera, Galdós and Alas. (my translation and emphasis, Hope 1886a, 78)

The field of struggle for Mella is not political or economic, but social. To make sense of a city that makes no sense—that is, meaning is no longer given but constructed, and, as a result, it is now possible to miss the author’s point—mella suggests that we must live the fragmentation of the city as a unity, as the expert urban planners want us to do, but as a unity that is conscious of its falseness. Two short stories published before Mella is named director of the Technical Department of Tranvías Eléctricos de Vigo [Electric Streetcars of Vigo] in 1911 are Benito Pérez Galdós’ “La novela en el tranvía” (1871) and Clarín’s (Leopoldo Alas’) “Doña Berta” (1892). Given the above-mentioned quote, it is highly probable that lxii RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE

Mella was familiar with these stories. The streetcars that appear in both texts function according to the same logic as Mella’s concept of literary synthesis, that is, they represent the register of coexistence between idealism and realism. My analysis will progress, as Spanish speakers often say, “como sobre carriles” [smoothly, as if on rails] from, first, an explanation of Mella’s concept of literary synthesis to, second, a close reading of the two short stories in order to argue that these short stories were an essential source of Mella’s theoretical inspiration.

Literary Synthesis The discussion in Spain among writers and critics of late nineteenth- century and early twentieth-century Spanish literature about how to write a novel helped Mella think about sociology, politics, philosophy, and nature differently. The 1883 text that most effectively introduced Émile Zola’s approach to novel writing, naturalism, to a wider Spanish public was La cuestión palpitante [The Burning Question], a recompilation on the part of Clarín (pseudonym of Leopoldo Alas) of Emilia Pardo Bazán’s newspaper articles on the question of whether to accept naturalism or not in Spain. Zola’s method of literary production is based on the quantifiable, observational analysis of the physical world. Instead of writing about unattainable ideals of perfection, be they physical or spiritual, naturalists describe the world without filters. Juan Valera fears that naturalism will lead to an uglier world in which crime and depravity reign, whereas Clarín values the fact that naturalism is not a closed doctrine, but one open to the whole spectrum of reality, not just a part of it (Bonet 2004, 107; Alas 1891, 32–33; López Quintáns 2007, 6). The answer to Clarín’s own burning questions of what to include and what to exclude in the representation of reality is reflected in the image of the statue. InSolos (1881), he states:

Now I know that aesthetically one cannot require the statue to have muscles and bones beneath the surface. The appearance is sufficient. But one cannot deny me the fact that such an appearance would never be as perfect as it would be if a complete human organism really existed inside the statue. Thus, this is the question of realism. In its statues (the characters of its works), there are muscles, bones, everything that makes the appearance more perfect. This is good realism. Bad realism is that which opens the body so that the insides can be seen. (my translation, Alas 1881, 66) RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE lxiii

Writing humanity back into the novel in all its glory and shortcomings is essential in order to give a fuller, more complete picture of reality. Clarín illustrates this need by equating the surface—the outer shell—of statues with idealism frozen in form, recalling the aesthetics of Greek statues. In other words, the objective of Greek sculptors was to carve the human figure to have proportions very difficult to achieve in reality. Clarín compares these Greek statues to romantic works of art that also glorify transcendent ideals. However, he agrees with the romantic critics of realism that the push to materialize everything, to expose “the body so that the insides can be seen,” (Alas 1881, 66) is also excessive. “[G]ood realism” reintroduces humanity to ideals in such a way that the two together reach a deeper truth (Alas 1881, 66). Clarín’s statues trigger a theoretical breakthrough for Mella and lead him to formulate his own concept of literary synthesis. He crafts this concept in three letters—Excursiones Literarias I, II, III [Literary Excursions I, II, III]—written in 1886, when he is twenty-five years old, under the pseudonym Hope. Through extensive archival work, Iria Presa has con- vincingly argued that Hope is Mella. In 1884, two years before the letters appear in the monthly publication Acracia: Revista Sociológica (1886–1888), Mella had collaborated with said journal and the Barcelona newspaper El Productor to translate Bakunin’s God and State into Spanish, thus establishing a previous relationship on the part of Mella with both Acracia and El Productor. In 1891, two articles with very similar titles— “Fatalismo de la Revolución” [Fatalism of the Revolution] and “Fatalismo revolucionario” [Revolutionary Fatalism]—are published. The first is printed by La Vanguardia in Vigo, Mella’s hometown, and signed by Hope, and the second is published by El Productor in Barcelona and signed by Mella. The comparable titles, the parallel content, and Mella’s prior relationship with both Acracia and El Productor along with the fact that Hope, the English translation of the Spanish word esperanza, is the name of Mella’s wife (Esperanza Serrano Rivera) make a strong case that Hope is Mella. It is in the first letter, Excursiones literarias I, that Mella makes reference to Clarín’s statues. Their porous border between idealized beauty, the surfaces, and humanity, the muscles and bones beneath, representative of the same porous border in good realism, sparks in Mella the values of coexistence and simultaneity. The most salient cultural chal- lenge for Mella is to find a way to break the social and political status quo. He argues that the middle class is producing precious few new ideals in lxiv RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE turn-of-the-century society because it is morally and physically worn-out. Religion, another possible producer of ideals, is in decline. Clarín’s statues inspire in Mella the following realization and solution:

In art, as it is in politics, philosophy, social science and nature itself, everything is antonymic and, even though apparently contradictory, reconcilable and as a result harmonic. (my translation, Hope 1886b, 113)

Clarín’s statues as representatives of good realism are, according to Mella, a “literary synthesis” (Hope 1886a: 81) of contradictory terms, realism and idealism. The statues are, at the same time, both realist and idealist. In other words, as Mella will write three years later in “El colectivismo: Sus fundamentos científicos” [Collectivism: Its Scientific Foundations], one of his texts presented at The Second Socialist Literary Competition in Barcelona, “[e]s inútil reducir los términos, aparentemente opuestos, a la unidad sintética que los destruya” [It is useless to reduce apparently opposite terms to a synthetic unity that destroys them] (my translation, Mella 1978, 97). For Mella, life is made up of contradictory forces. However, none of these forces may be reduced to any other. His concept of literary synthesis is not a false unity of opposite terms, but a coexistence of contrary positions. In order to break the social and political status quo, Mella sends out a call to action in his third letter, Excursiones literarias III, to all artists to make critical art which he defines as “arte justiciero, arte que empieza a hacerse justicia a sí mismo, y se declara servidor, no de lo absoluto, sino de la razón y del derecho” [art with a sense of justice, art that begins to do justice to itself and that declares itself servant, not of the absolute, but of reason and of the law] (my translation, Hope 1886c, 126). Instead of chasing an absolute, abstract, and transcendent ideal, Mella argues that artists should seek the perfection of the human race through justice on earth. The law to which he refers is not the law of man, but the natural law of evolutive processes. The key to social and just change is twofold: the humanization of the transcendent ideal; and the abandonment of bourgeois values. In other words, when the ideal of justice and freedom takes the place of the ideal of divine perfection, then the apparently contradictory terms, idealism and realism, are reconciled because the human ideal coexists with everyday life. Thinking about Clarín’s statues once again, Mella is critical of religious and bourgeois ideals frozen in abstract thought without human muscles and bones. Spaniards, on the whole, had (he RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE lxv thought) become statues trapped in a static, closed system and frozen in transcendental thought. José Prat, Mella’s good friend, suggests that “[h]is [Mella’s] distrust of reason, so new in the libertarian theories, full of cold reasoning without vitality or consistency, encloses the fullest aspect of substance in all of his work” (Prat 1926, 9). Mella’s conceptual model of literary synthesis, the basis of his thought expounded in his newspaper and journal articles, is to make statue- surfaces—the designs, structures, and institutions of society, for example—communicate with statue-insides—human, living processes—in order to construct a more complex whole. Just as Mella blurs the rigid distinction between outside/inside, he also softens the solidified division between academic disciplines. By first presenting his conceptual model of literary synthesis in a journal dedicated to sociology, Mella draws attention to the unrestricted commingling of two typically separate fields of study: sociology and literature. He warns the reader in the first letter,Excursiones literarias I: “Ya ves, escribo en una revista sociológica, y ni por asomos pienso decirte una palabra de sociología” [So you see, I am writing in a sociology journal, and by no means am I considering saying anything concerning sociology] (Hope 1886a, 78). However, it is through literature that Mella discovers the logic of simultaneity which, in turn, informs sociology and other fields, for, as he states in the third letter, Excursiones literarias III, “[l]as ciencias, las artes y las letras siguen el mismo camino” [sciences, arts and literature follow the same road] (Hope 1886c, 124). Mella’s theoretical invention—literary synthesis—predates by a hundred years Raymond Williams’ “refusal to give priority to either the project or the formation—or in older terms, the art or the society” (Williams 2007, 152). For Mella, Clarín’s discourse on statues strikes a balance between idealism and realism. They refuse to prize one more highly than the other.

“La novela en el tranvía” and “Doña Berta” Walter Oliver argues that the narrator of Benito Pérez Galdós’s “La novela en el tranvía” (1871) [The Novel on the Streetcar] creates “his own ‘novel’ by combining the elements of his sources with his own imagination” (Oliver 1973, 253). Oliver places the word novel within quotes because he realizes that it is a novel that follows a different logic; that it is, in fact, not a novel, but something else. Luis Fernández Cifuentes agrees with Oliver and defines the “novel” that the narrator creates as “bad” and “antiquated” because it still maintains “an old and rigid connection lxvi RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE between signifier and signified” (Cifuentes 1988, 291). The distinction that Cifuentes makes between good novels and bad novels is derived from Galdós’s own definition in his essay “Observaciones sobre la novela con- temporánea en España” and in his speech presented to the Royal Spanish Academy in 1897 “La sociedad presente como materia novelable.” Galdós writes about the Spanish readers’ affinity for easily digestible books in which the characters fall into clearly recognizable categories of good and evil (Galdós 1999a, 125). Galdós’s description of a type of literature that attempts to simplify the complexities of life through the use of character- types suggests that the function is to produce a synthetic unity and, in so doing, to maintain Romantic wholeness in a world of fragmentation. The protagonist of “La novela en el tranvía” (1871) [The Novel on the Streetcar] lives in the bustling city of Madrid of the 1870s, a city like any other city: a place of absence, fragmentation, discontinuity, disorder, chaos, and interruptions. But he lives this fragmentation as a unity. He looks for relationships and tries to give meaning to things that are empty of meaning. Doña Berta, the protagonist of Clarín’s “Doña Berta” (1892), is also an idealist who is obsessed with harmony and Romantic wholeness. She identifies with the translated French Romantic novels that were popular during the late nineteenth century in Spain, and internalizes the Romantic view that nature reflects a divine order. She, unlike Galdos’ protagonist, lives in the countryside of Asturias, a land of lush greenery, infinite trees, and abundant water. Like the title suggests, “The Novel on the Streetcar,” the streetcar plays a pivotal role. All but the last part of the story takes place in the enclosed space of the moving streetcar. Accepting de Certeau’s understanding of place as an order of relationships—be it a system of signs, ideas, and so forth— (de Certeau 1984, 117), the order of relationships that defines the streetcar is one of fragmentation, chaos, discontinuity, interruption, opacity, plurality, and ambiguity. It is a place of differences and casual encounters in which people from different social classes with different jobs continually enter and leave the streetcar. This order of relationships excludes the possibility of totality and unity. The streetcar, like the city, is a social experience of continuous variations. Galdós takes advantage of this similarity and uses the streetcar as a metonymy for the fact that the modern city is governed by the law of fragmentation. He comments on this state of discontinuity, asserting that what describes the society of the late nineteenth century is the relaxation of any principle of unity, be it RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE lxvii social, political, or economic (Galdós 1999b, 221). For Galdós, the realist novel is the medium through which this fragmentation may be reflected. In another essay, “Observaciones sobre la novela contemporánea en España,” Galdós sets up a binary opposition between realist novels and Romantic ones distributed as serialized novels in newspapers, a very popular way to consume literature in the nineteenth century. These chapbooks reduce people to easily recognizable character-types and set them in typical conflicts of love and hate, good and evil. The function of these serialized novels is to give unity to the complexities and incongruences of life whereas the realist novel problematizes certain situations. After being told by his friend Dionisio Cascajares the story about the countess and after reading the fragment of the newspaper that reveals more information, but not all of it, Galdos’ narrator appropriates the model of Romantic wholeness and, in order to give unity to the coincidences occurring on the streetcar, begins to compose his own text, but a totalizing text. The time spent on the streetcar is one of looking. This time of illustrative seeing is, according to Walter Benjamin in The Arcades Project, fundamental for the figure of the flâneur, the person who roams the streets of a city: “He composes his reverie as text to accompany the images” (Benjamin 1999, 419). The narrator, like the figure of the flâneur, passes his time on the streetcar trying to read from faces of the passengers the profession, the ancestry, and the character of the people he is looking at (Galdós 2012, 21–22). I suggest that what the narrator is doing is trying to simplify by judging faces. The illustrative seeing of the narrator has the same function as do the serialized novels: to create static connections, to maintain an abstract totality, to categorize and subdivide; in short, to generalize. He standardizes certain facial features and assigns a character-type to these uniform physiog- nomies. The narrator reproduces certain character-types based on an “original” connection between facial feature and character-type. Such connections were being studied during the last half of the nineteenth century. For example, Cesare Lombroso investigated the relationship between physical characteristics and criminal behavior in his most famous book The Criminal Man written in 1876. Drawing on positivism, Lombroso systematically measured and observed the physical attributes of thousands of soldiers in the Italian army and later of patients in mental institutions who engaged in criminal behavior. He concluded that criminals have distinctive physical features such as strong canine teeth, joined eyebrows, eye defects and peculiarities, pro- truding lips, and anomalies of the hair among other characteristics. In effect, criminals exhibited very animalistic characteristics and, borrowing from lxviii RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE

Darwin’s theory of natural selection, Lombroso suggested that criminal behavior was linked to the reversion of individuals to evolutionarily primi- tive traits and instincts. Mudarra, the criminal of the story, possesses these characteristics. Galdós describes him as thick set, knock-kneed, having large canine teeth, eyes hidden by long, black, thick eyebrows, and big lips (Galdós 2012, 24). The physical exaggerations of Mudarra are described using references to animals. For example, his hair is compared to Medusa’s snakes and his feet are pigeon-toed (Galdós 2012, 27–28). He also expresses a bestial lustfulness. Mudarra, stripped of his singularity and difference, looks like any other criminal. The narrator equates a stranger who boards the streetcar and fits the description of Mudarra with Mudarra of the written fragmentation. He immediately believes that the stranger is Mudarra. “In a moment, I had examined him from head to toe and recognized him from the description I had read. It could be none other; even the most insignificant details of his clothes clearly indicated it was him” (Galdós 2012, 27). What solidifies the connection for the narrator is the “M” that he sees on the stranger’s wallet. He seems to believe that a transparent relation still exists between the signifier and the signified, that there is a transcendental connection between exterior and interior. But, Cifuentes points out that “only bad, antiquated novels would still maintain an old and rigid connection between signifier and signified, and ignore the uncertainties of empirical reality” (Cifuentes 1988, 291). The narrator does not understand that “whereas in the world of established art signs have preserved much of their unity, in the social world signs are rapidly deteriorating, meanings are blurred and representation is more and more difficult and inaccurate” (1988, 293). Romanticism tries to maintain the simplicity of an organic totality when such a unity no longer exists. The image of the stranger is written as that of Mudarra to give continuity to the incomplete words of the doctor and the written fragment of the newspaper. Similarly, Doña Berta receives a fragment of the painter’s masterpiece in the mail. It is only the head with the label “My Captain” written below. She instantly equates the head of the painter’s captain, first, with that of her captain and, later, with that of her son. Instead of entertaining the resemblance between the painter’s captain and her son as pure coincidence, she attempts to give meaning to happenstance. She replaces ambiguity with certainty. This blind conviction leads her to go to Madrid in search of the painter in order to, first, buy the painting which she now believes depicts her son’s heroic death and, second, to repay her son’s gambling debt. RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE lxix

After moving from the idyllic country in which “Romanticism […] had a veritable priestess” (Alas 1999, 61–62) to the chaotic city of Madrid, Doña Berta begins to have doubts about whether the captain in the painting is really her son. She laments, upon contemplating the painting, that “she didn’t always recognize her son […] The first time that she felt her faith waver, that she experienced doubt, she shivered, and an icy, deathlike sweat ran along her spine” (Alas 1999, 99). Overwhelmed by her recent lack of conviction, she attempts to reaffirm her faith by entering a church:

The images on the altar, which faded vaguely in the shadows, spoke with their silence of the solidarity of heaven and earth, of the constancy of faith, of the oneness of the world, which was the notion that was eluding Doña Berta (without her realizing it, of course) in her hours of fear, discourage- ment, and desperation. (Alas 1999, 94)

While Galdos’ narrator continually denies the state of fragmentation in the city through the totalizing text he composes, the more time Doña Berta spends in Madrid, the more she accepts the messiness of urban life. She begins to question binary logic and to embrace and to feel comfortable with ambiguity:

In the end Doña Berta felt the sublime, austere joy of faith in doubt […] Bravery consisted of giving it all, not for one’s faith, but for one’s doubt. In the doubt she loved what faith there was, as mothers love a child more and more when he’s sick or when the devil takes him from her. Weak, sickly faith became greater in her eyes than blind, robust faith. (Alas 1999, 100)

Doña Berta humanizes her ideals during her stay in Madrid. She is at once idealist and realist like her beloved painter’s masterpiece which depicts both a gambling addict and a hero, or like Clarín’s statues from Solos which are simultaneously body and idealized beauty. In fact, Doña Berta’s new- found register of coexistence between idealism and realism is heightened by her description as a statue of History doing something very human— crying (Alas 1999, 76). Doña Berta’s synthesis of idealism and realism is short-lived. Since arriving in Madrid, she has been scared of being run over by a streetcar. This modern form of transportation, representative of human ingenuity, is both a public good and a public danger. The fast-paced life of living in a modern city requires rapid transportation to move the masses. However, the cost of fast-moving, heavy carriages is that they are difficult to stop lxx RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE quickly. Modern city life requires a delicate balance between letting your imagination run wild and focused attention. Doña Berta allows herself to momentarily favor her imagination over her surroundings:

And she thought: There I believe is where Señor Cánovas lives. He could work the miracle for me. Provide me with a royal decree or I don’t know … at least a note so that the Latin American would be forced to sell me the painting. (translator’s emphasis, Alas 1999, 104)

As she is interpreting her world once again through the frame of a divine order and is thinking about miracles, a streetcar strikes her down and kills her. The streetcar is obviously deadly. But, within the logic of the story, it is also liberating because it smashes idealism in the form of Doña Berta. It reestablishes the balance between realism and idealism by eliminating Doña Berta who was beginning to reassert idealism over realism. The message that Galdós and Clarín want to send and that, I argue, Mella received is to live life like a realist novel or a realist painting, that is, to live the fragmentation of the city as a unity that is conscious of its falseness. In both stories, the streetcar enjoys a positive connotation because it is a space in which idealism and realism can coexist. However, many would argue that the streetcar also has a negative connotation. Fraser asserts:

[…] although it [the train] has been ascribed a generalized symbolic value with both positive and negative connotations (the train as egalitarian and liberatory force versus the train as the dark underbelly of modernity), the most appropriate perspective on the train is one that recognizes its connections with the specific social dynamics of contemporary capitalism. (Fraser 2015, 6)

Mella acknowledges that bourgeois modernity is problematic. Nevertheless, for Mella, the streetcar remains positive and necessary because it takes us to a better understanding of the urban. We ride the metaphor of the streetcar in order to get to a place where we can construct a more complex whole of what it means to live in a city. de Certeau clarifies:

In modern Athens, the vehicles of mass transportation are called metaphorai. To go to work or come home, one takes a ‘metaphor’—a bus or a train. Stories could also take this noble name: every day, they traverse and organize places; they select and link them together; they make sentences and itinerar- ies out of them. (de Certeau 1984, 115) RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE lxxi

The story of the urban performed by the streetcar is one of a continual back-and-forth between contradictory forces which blurs borders. The logic of Galdós’ and Clarín’s streetcars is that of Mella’s literary synthesis.

Conclusion: Toward Nature Recovered According to Mella, one of the stumbling blocks to reaching social justice in the city is the representation of reality. Because Mella was a map-maker (a topographical engineer), a story-teller (author of La Nueva Utopía), and a knowledge-maker (anarchist theorist), he was able to conclude that maps, stories, and newspaper and journal articles are all representations of reality, and as such, they each inform the others. Literature and articles are as much maps as are two-dimensional pieces of paper, and maps tell stories as much as do literature and articles. In order to give a fuller, more complete picture of everyday life, the reality that literature and articles ought to map, and the stories that maps should tell must function according to the logic of simultaneity in which the abstract ideals of society coexist with actual human experiences. Mella believes that both the representation of reality and the reality of city life itself at the end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth century in Spain favor statistics, measurements, and ideology over human experience. Mella sees this occurring in politics as well as in urban planning. However, nature, in contrast, does not categorize. Mella explains:

The distinction between brawn and brain is a weak excuse of the bourgeoisie to furtively keep in perpetual servitude those who work […] The necessary and the important is to produce and consume, that is, to live. Nature does not distinguish the wise from the ignorant. Before her there is nothing more than animals who eat and defecate […] Brawn and brain, I fail to see them split. Where one works, one thinks. We will say with Proudhon: he who works philosophizes. There are not separate, contradictory functions, but one single function that is translated in thought and deed […] Brawn and brain are parts of a harmonious whole which we call man. In the realm of Nature all men are equal, regardless of the organic differences that distinguish them. (Mella 1926, 306-307)

Therefore, representation, like nature, must dissolve fixed boundaries between abstract categories in order to reintroduce humanity to ideals in such a way that the two together reach a deeper truth. For Mella, to recover nature is to recover the register of coexistence between contrary lxxii RICARDO MELLA’S URBANISM: THOUGHT AND PRACTICE positions. Mella’s life-long work is a call for the mapmaker, the urban planner, and the politician to think relationally and not in terms of fixed binaries. The core of Mella’s anarchist thought is precisely this process, which he refers to as literary synthesis. As a result, in this day and age in which the world is increasingly being seduced by totalizing thought in the fields of politics, economics, urban planning, and culture, Mella’s beautiful shreds (or, if you prefer, his beautiful flowers plucked from his garden of anarchy) are more relevant than ever.

DeKalb, USA Stephen Luis Vilaseca

Note 1. The notion of porous borders, or of a border that is not a border, is a key characteristic of Mella’s thought. Through a compelling, apparently contradictory image, the country without borders, Mella rejects the exclusivism that arbitrary separations provoke, but recognizes the need for communities of shared interests to form (Hope 1891b). According to Mella, one can simultaneously identify with a particular place and culture and be open to new ideas.

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