The Recusant's Book Review: “Spain, the Vital Years”
Jul 6, 2020 13:35:05 GMT
Post by Admin on Jul 6, 2020 13:35:05 GMT
Taken from the The Recusant, Issue 52 (Summer 2020)
[Some images omitted but can be found in the above link - Admin]
Book Review: “Spain, the Vital Years”
by Luis Bolin
Picture the scene. Violent mobs of the unemployable, ne’er-do-wells and misguided teenagers, screaming left-wing slogans about oppression and calling for the abolition of the police... Hmm. Buildings being burned to the ground and monuments defaced and destroyed... Hmm. The government, who could put a stop to it, doing nothing and even secretly encouraging it; the left-wing press applauding the violence, justifying it and openly encouraging it. Those who publicly deplore these new developments being silenced, labelled with far left slogans (“Fascist!” “Oppressor!”) and treated as though they are the problem... Hmm. Left-wing politicians opening the prisons and letting genuine criminals go free, but contriving to threaten their political opponents on the Right with jail... Hmm. Various so-called movements pretending to represent popular sentiment (“The will of the people!”) but who in reality are being funded from abroad and given their marching orders by various shady left-wing or masonic connections... Hmm. Hmm. It all sounds eerily familiar, doesn’t it?
Would you be surprised if I were to tell you that what I have just described is what went on in Spain during the Second Republic (1931-1936)..? Let us look a little closer. One of the pitfalls when drawing parallels from history is that one must always be careful not to take it too far. Whenever there are legitimate parallels to be drawn, whenever things are similar, they are never exactly the same and usually there are some quite noteworthy differences. Our own countries, cultures and political and religious climates are in many ways very different to Spain in the early 30s. For one thing, Communism and red radicalism of all stripes (and there were many in Republican Spain!) stood in open opposition to any form of capitalism, whereas today the two seem to go hand in hand and it is “big business” which is often behind these “movements.” For another, things materially were so much worse then, it is not even close. We are not witnessing thousands of priests and nuns being martyred or hundreds of churches and convents being burned to the ground. It could be argued that if things aren’t that bad here yet, it may still give us a more accurate picture of what we can expect in the future. Equally, one could make the case that things were more violent mainly because Spain experienced a rush towards revolutionary Communism lasting only a couple of years, whereas we have been experiencing a slow, painful descent into it spanning decades and whole generaions. They experienced microwave Communism, we are in the slow cooker.
Paradoxically, it is also true that, in many ways, Spain was better off then than we are now. The thousands of priests and nuns murdered in the Second Republic would never be murdered today, one suspects, and not just because Novus Ordo nuns and priests tend to wear lay dress making them harder to identify, but also because half of them don’t know what they believe or stand for and the other half would be the very ones on top of the barricades leading the revolution! With that said, and bearing in mind that every analogy limps, let us take a look at what was going on in those last mad, frenzied years before General Franco (God rest his soul!) and the other Spanish generals heroically stood up and saved Spain from becoming the latest addition to Stalin’s world empire. Here is how the author of this remarkable book gives his reader a feel for what things were like.
Draw your own parallels and conclusions.
The Second Spanish Republic began amid the following atmosphere:
“The downfall of the Monarchy was soon followed by a prison riot in Valencia, where the inmates emerged from goal after displaying unequivocal signs of their eagerness to share in the new freedom. In Bilbao, convicts obtained immediate liberation. In Barcelona, a soldier and a night watchman were murdered, and a number of citizens wounded. In Seville, I myself witnessed an outbreak of the same nature close to my house. The opening of the Casa de Campo, a former Crown property on the outskirts of Madrid, was the signal for destruction, perpetrated largely on budding trees and bushes. Magnificent coats of arms, sculpted on marble slabs and emblazoned on public buildings while Ferdinand and Isabella, the Habsburgs and the Bourbons successively ruled Spain, were demolished or obliterated with cement when their size rendered demolition difficult. The dignified strains of the national anthem, devoid of all words or lyrics, were replaced by an unmelodious jig. Names of streets possessing historical significance or connected in some way with royalty were immediately altered. The colours of the national flag were changed. Principles hitherto considered essential to the peace and welfare of the community were uprooted and discarded as soon as they were denounced. ... Whipped to a frenzy by extremist propaganda, the rabble declared a general strike and subjected the capital to a night of terror. Similar outbreaks attained an unprecedented pitch of violence in other parts of Spain.They lasted three days, without the government making the slightest attempt to supress them. In Madrid the first edifice to go up in flames was the residence of the Jesuit Fathers, situated in a main thoroughfare. An adjoining church, works of art and a library with 90,000 volumes were also reduced to ashes.” (p.107)
“Of outstanding passiveness was the attitude of the Minister of the Interior, a ‘New Republican’ called Miguel Maura who now [1967, when Franco was still in charge! -Ed.] lives quietly in Barcelona; Maura was responsible for maintaining order and had been warned in advance of what was going to happen. ‘Let all the churches burn,’ shouted one of his more fiery colleagues. ‘They’re not worth the life of a single Republican.’ The same night ten churches, convents and colleges, with their libraries, paintings and sacred images, were destroyed in Madrid alone.” (Ibid.)
Is that remark about the churches really true, and if so, was it really typical of how Spain’s other leaders and politicians thought? Alas, it was all too typical. The “fiery colleague” in question was a man by the name of Manuel Azaña. He went on to become Prime Minister a few months later, and President in 1936. Surely the author is giving the benefit of the doubt by referring to it only as “passiveness.” It was strongly suspected that the government were really the ones secretly behind the frenzied mobs, giving them encouragement and advice or otherwise colluding with them. Whenever a new outrage occurred, the public officials could simply claim that it was the will of the people and something which they couldn’t do anything to prevent. In other words, they maintained the same “plausible deniability” which many suspect is at work today. Because of that secrecy and deniability, such things are always going to be very difficult to prove. The details of what took place in the author’s home town of Malaga, however, give us one very interesting example of where the veil of secrecy momentarily slipped and revealed that the mob was not quite so “spontaneous” as might have been claimed:
“No city suffered more than Malaga, where fifty churches and convents were looted or destroyed. I was there shortly after and learned that the orgy of incendiarism had been largely promoted by the recently appointed Military Governor, General José Caminero, who acting on orders from Madrid, had taken command and assumed full powers just before the disturbances broke out.
On 10 May, 1931, shortly before midnight, my brother Enrique turned homewards after attending a cinema in Malaga with two close friends, like himself Lieutenants in the army reserve undergoing a period of training. As they left the theatre they heard that mobs were attacking churches in different parts of the town, and on their way home they saw a small group acting suspiciously near the Bishop’s residence, a beauti-ful eighteenth century building situated in a square next to the Cathedral. The Military Governor’s quarters being only a few hundred feet away, they proceeded there to report what they had just heard and seen. General Caminero, a sentry told them, was probably asleep. They found him upstairs, awake and wearing pyjamas. He listened to their story but declared himself unwilling and unable to oppose ‘the will of the people’. The three officers stressed the gravity of the situation and pleaded hard with the governor for action, arguing that the mob close to the episcopal palace was a small one and would disperse before a show of force, however slight. When Caminero maintained that he had no specific orders, my brother requested permission to summon a platoon. He and his friends then helped the General into his uniform and escorted him to the square, where they saw the troops arriving and the rabble taking to its heels. Meanwhile, Caminero had thought things over. Insisting that the people’s wish could not be opposed, he dismissed the soldiers and confined them to barracks, whereupon the mob returned and burnt the Bishop’s Palace and a seminary adjoining it.” (Ibid.)
“Previous to this, Caminero had obtained from the Bishop of Malaga a list of all the convents and churches in the city. He needed it, he said, ‘to protect them should an emergency arise.’ Through an oversight, the name of a small Cistercian chapel was omitted from the list. It was one of three religious edifices that escaped the flames in Malaga on 11th May, 1931. The other two were the Cathedral, entirely built of stone, and the Church of La Victoria, which happened to adjoin the Military Hospital.”
Similar destruction happened all across Spain during those five years. On one night in 1936, for example, of the 58 churches in Barcelona, only the Cathedral was not destroyed. Not only were churches and chapels targeted: libraries, clubs, newspapers and printing presses, schools, businesses and even private homes, if they were associated with either the church or the political right, were attacked and destroyed and their owners killed. The church property destroyed was not only a loss to the clergy; it often meant the destruction of centuries of cultural capital, a heritage belonging to all of Spain, and most of all to the common people, the very ones whom the screaming rabble and their political masters claimed to represent:
“Reduced to ashes in similar buildings were some of the finest religious sculptures in the world, among them Pedro de Mena’s masterpieces, the lovely ‘Virgin de Belen,’ the impressive Christ in Santo Domingo, and the ‘Virgin de las Lagrimas’ -Our Lady of the Tears -in Los Martires, before which I had seen an English girl weep with emotion two years before. Because a relative of mine hid it, another fine image of Our Lady, also by Pedro de Mena, exists today in Malaga in the church of La Victoria, but a score of his best works were burnt in the city. A display of energy would have averted this irreparable loss, but Caminero simply sent a telegram to the government, saying: ‘The burning of churches has started and will continue tomorrow.’ He fled the country when fighting broke out, five years later, and has kept himself out of it ever since.
All over Spain the incendiaries [arsonists -Ed.] were ably directed. Religious buildings do not flare up spontaneously owing to spontaneous combustion. [...] There was a small convent with a chapel, opposite the house where an uncle of mine, Juan de la Cruz Bolin, lived in Malaga with his family. The night that churches were burnt there, a rabble appeared, took from the chapel altar pieces, paintings, crucifixes and sacred images, and piled them up in the street. My uncle begged the mob to spare the works of art which, he insisted, were now the property of the nation. While he spoke, the wife of a local butcher, known as a violent Red, drew near and said, ‘You’ll regret your words some day.’ The dump was duly set on fire; when civil war broke out, my uncle was taken from his home and shot.” (p.109 ff.)
Spanish “Reds” execute the Sacred Heart...
and left on display for public mockery - scenes like this were all too common
Are you beginning to build up a picture? Remember, one can draw parallels and even if they are not perfect, they can still be instructive. Always with the same caveat, how about this:
More? Very well, how about meetings of the right being interrupted and invaded by violent so-called “anti-fascist demonstrators” and the police only intervening to side with the violent agitators and against those who are being harassed? How about the government condemning the ones being attacked and siding with those doing the attacking? Does that sound familiar?“Before Parliament could approve the Constitution, a ‘Law for the Defence of the Republic’ cancelled the rights and liberties guaranteed by the new charter, empowered the government to suspend newspapers indefinitely, close meeting-places and clubs, imprison or exile citizens, seize industrial concerns, forbid public meetings...” (p.111)
“To campaign against the Reds was becoming increasingly difficult. I attended a meeting in Antequera, thirty-five miles from Malaga, with Right-wing speakers who had Republican desecration of Spain’s churches -like the ‘antifa’ of our own age, these agitators seem to be little more than naïve student types....come from Madrid for the occasion. When they denounced Red violence, a police official put an end to the proceedings and a band of hooligans forced an entry into the hall and smashed the furniture. Only the speakers were arrested.” (p.146)
“Because Falangists defended themselves from their aggressors, the government declared itself in open belligerency with the Falange. When a rabid mob attacked and stoned the barracks at Alcala de Henares, the government incarcerated the officers and transferred the troops to another town.” (p.152)
“[By 1936] churches were being burnt to cinders in some places, turned into dance halls in others. Contributions to the ‘Red Relief Fund’ were unceremoniously extracted from foreign visitors ... Criminals guilty of the gravest excesses in Asturias were being pardoned, released, and re-installed in their previous occupations. Humble families were forced to re-admit men who had murdered their father or a brother. A local branch of the Bank of Spain was obliged to employ a man who had killed the manager. ... Socialist leaders shed crocodile tears over ‘the futile orgy of destruction’ which they themselves had set loose. Farmers were beheaded publicly in Yecla, where no religious service could be held because all of its fifteen churches had been burnt. Army officers were insulted, attacked and ordered to remote posts whenever their allegiance to the Left was open to question, officers known for their extremist views being appointed to replace them. [...] Book stalls were flooded with a wave of Red literature, seditious or pornographic.” (p. 149)
It is noteworthy that mass pornography, abortion, divorce, “free love,” feminism and all the other horrors of the modern world were being heavily promoted in this period too. These things would have been shocking in non-Catholic countries like Great Britain or America of the 1930s, but in Spain they were as much a part of the left’s agenda as armed uprising, arson, murder and all the rest. Many today tend short-sightedly to blame the immorality of the modern world, its sexual immorality in particular, on the 1960s, not fully realising that it goes back beyond that and was a feature of both the French and Russian revolutions, and heavily promoted in various countries in the early 20th century, wherever the Communists could be found agitating. In Spain, an entirely Catholic country where the Protestant reformation never happened, the contrast was even more remarkable and it even managed to turn many of the Republic’s initial supporters against it:
“On 7 June [1936] Don Miguel Unamuno, an opponent of the Monarchy and the Dictator-ship [of General Primo de Rivera, in the 1920s -Ed.]who had lined up enthusiastically with the Republic [in 1931], reported in Ahora, a Madrid newspaper of the Left:
‘Law courts at Salamanca were invaded the other day by a rabble whose avowed purpose was to lynch magistrates, judges and lawyers. The horde was made up of mere boys who raised clenched fists, and of filthy, toothless harpies carrying a poster with the words “Long Live Free Love!” This grotesque mob paraded the streets under the protection of the authorities.’ ” (p.151)
1936: some forerunners of our own empowered feminists... Only one side in the Spanish Civil War had women soldiers -they lost.
“The Militias Need You!” -Republican female recruitment
Interestingly enough, although he writes of Spain with an insider’s knowledge and the experience of one born and brought up there, the author himself was in fact only half Spanish: he was also half English, which may account for the excellent prose style which makes his book such a page-turner. Before the Civil War, Luis Bolin worked as the London correspondent of a major Spanish newspaper; while living in London he became friends with Hilaire Belloc, Douglas Jerrold, Sir Arnold Lunn and many others. All of this meant that he was somewhat uniquely placed to deal with communication between Spain and the English-speaking world, and during the Civil War he served close to General Franco has his press attaché.
Not an easy job, and one at which he could never hope to compete with the enemy on equal terms. The Republicans, he says, had advantages in the information war which Franco’s side could only dream of. For one thing, they controlled the capital Madrid during the whole war and with it, the Madrid telephone exchange, the main hub for communications between Spain and the outside world. This meant that their version of events could be telephoned out of the country and would appear in newspapers in London, Paris and New York the following morning. The Nationalists, on the other hand, would eventually get their version of events out, but it took longer, and by the time it reached those same newspapers often a whole day or more had passed by, the event in question (the latest battle, or whatever) was now “old news” and the public’s interest had already moved on! But beyond that, he says, the Communists were just better at propaganda. In fact, their side really weren’t much good at anything else (like actually winning battles, for example -I am paraphrasing...), only propaganda. One of the amusing results of all this was that when the war came to an end with the Republic’s final defeat, many in the outside world were genuinely astonished that Franco and the Nationalists had won, since they had for the duration of the war, and often without realising it, been reading what amounted to little more than Red Propaganda. “Reports” from left-wing war correspondents told of the heroic exploits of the International Brigades, of “the Fascists” falling back in disarray before the jubilant worker’s army, of the advance of the Republic on all fronts... and then, suddenly and without warning -the “Fascists” had won! How could it be?! As with today’s media, leftist propaganda was far more widespread and easy to find. Often the Nationalists could counter-argue very effectively, and usually prove that what the Reds were claiming was untrue, but their arguments never made it before the eyes of the majority of people. Like today, very few people questioned what the mainstream media told them or were ever likely to even look for the other side’s version of events. As today, the strength of the left’s propaganda lay in the fact that it was so pervasive.
Perhaps the best known example of this is the famous “bombing of Guernica.” The author presents a wealth of unimpeachable evidence of his own, as well as quoting from several correspondents and authors of the time, the inescapable conclusion of which is that the whole thing was (surprise, surprise!) nothing more than Communists lies and propaganda. Worse, the destruction which was the focus of so much international “outrage” was in fact perpetrated by the Reds themselves as they retreated out of the town. Bolin includes a whole appendix about the Guernica myth: to this day I have never come across a more irrefutable explanation nor more detailed evidence. Other appendices deal with lies in the foreign media, including those which came from supposedly “impartial” journalists who turned out years later to have been card-carrying Communist party members all along. Perhaps one of the best known of these was a man named Arthur Koestler, whom the author himself took prisoner in person. One appendix contains photos of the original documents relating to the Bank of Spain’s gold reserves being put on a Soviet ship and sent to Russia; another offers solid evidence that Spain came within a hair’s breadth of joining the Soviet Union, had not the Nationalist uprising and the start of the war forestalled it by only a few weeks and thus prevented it from happening.
Luis Bolin published this excellent book in 1967, two years before his death and bequeathed a legacy for which the world should be grateful. Over the years a lot has been written about the Spanish Civil War, almost all of it from a decidedly “Red” perspective. Not only does this book tell the other side, but it tells it with the knowledge of one who was there. The first part of the book is his memoire of how he chartered an aircraft, a de Havilland Dragon Rapide, from Croydon Aerodrome in London (the Heathrow Airport of the 1930s) and together with its pilot, Captain Cecil Bebb, flew across Europe and over to the Canary Islands in complete secrecy where he picked up General Franco and took him to join his troops, starting with the Spanish Foreign Legion in Spanish Morocco. From a first-hand gripping tale of derring-do, the author moves into a brief but useful overview of Spanish history, then goes into some detail about the horrors of the Second Republic, all of which sets the scene for the 1936 anti-Communist uprising in which he played such a unique and vital role.
The second half of the book then focusses on the 1936 rising and the conduct of the war during the almost three years of fighting which followed, ending with the victory of General Franco’s Nationalists over the Republic, in 1939. There are many gripping passages, each of which would merit a mention if only space allowed, however no article about the Spanish Civil War would be complete without mentioning the epic tale of real-life heroism which is the siege of the Alcazar of Toledo. An ancient fortress since Roman times, restored by Charles V in the 1540s, and which by this point had long since been used as the army’s officer training academy (like Sandhurst, or West Point), many of the staff, headed by the Alcazar’s Director of Physical Training, one Colonel José Moscardo, had declared for the Nationalists from the very start, and from the very start had found themselves besieged by overwhelming numbers, far behind enemy lines with little to no chance of immediate help or rescue. Because the war began in mid-summer, many of the staff and officer-cadets had been away, leaving a reduced complement, though they were soon joined by many civilians and others from the surrounding area, including many women and children, seeking refuge from the Red Terror. The siege lasted seventy days, during which time they had to deal with infantry attacks, continual day-and-night shelling, bombing from the air and mine-shafts dug under the fortifications, which were then packed with TNT and blown-up (shortly before it was relieved, one of the citadel’s four walls was completely destroyed this way); completely cut-off from the outside world, the Alcazar’s defenders also had to face a propaganda offensive: the same Republican propaganda which told them stories of Nationalist defeat and Republican victory was, at the same time, circulating reports in the press that the Alcazar had already surrendered, in an attempt to demoralise the Nationalist army fighting their way towards Toledo to relieve them. There were many other dirty tricks attempted besides, such as this truly legendary episode:
“On 23rd July, Moscardo was once more summoned to the telephone. This time the call came from his twenty-four-year-old son, Luis, but before they could talk a strange voice said: ‘As commander of the People’s Militia, I enjoin you to surrender the Alcazar. You have ten minutes. Otherwise we shall shoot yourson, who is here as my hostage.’ ‘I readily believe you.’ ‘Speak to him if you wish, he is at my side.’ ‘Father!’ ‘What is it, my son?’ ‘Nothing, father. They say they’re going to shoot me unless you hand over the Alcazar.’ ‘Put your trust in God, my boy, and die like a man.’
...Definite news of the boy’s death did not reach Moscardo until 28th September, the day I met him in the Alcazar.” (p.196)
“[He] was led blindfold to the Colonel’s office. When the bandage [over his eyes] was removed, he saluted and was offered a seat. Moscardo addressed Rojo reassuringly; the two men were alone save for Captain Alaman, who had stayed to witness the interview. ‘Do not fear. You are among gentlemen. What is it that you wish to tell us?’ Rojo handed Moscardo a paper signed by the leader of the attacking column and containing the terms for total surrender. The Colonel bit his lip, glanced at Rojo, took his pen and wrote: ‘The defenders of the Alcazar reject any idea of surrender. They will uphold to the last the dignity of Spain!’ The two men stood up and Moscardo said to Rojo, ‘If you want the Alcazar, you will have to storm it. We would rather it were a cemetery than a dung-heap.’ Other officers, former friends and comrades of the Major entered the room. The conversation became informal and cigarettes were handed around. ‘Why don’t you stay with us?’ somebody asked. ‘I wish I could,’ answered Rojo. ‘If I did so, this very night my wife and children would be slaughtered in Madrid.’ He cried ‘¡VivaEspaña!’once he was again blindfolded, his heart heavy with the knowledge of his disloyalty to all that he had held sacred throughout his life.” (p.198)
The canon addressed Moscardo in honeyed terms. ‘Think of the women and children here with you. Why hold out? It is the voice of God that speaks through me!’ The Colonel cut him short. ‘Are you willing to hear our confessions, say Mass and give us Holy Communion? In that case, do your duty. Time flies ad the truce ends at noon.’ Moscardo was the first to confess. An altar was hurriedly erected, and an image of Our Lady was set upon it. When the moment for the sermon arrived, the Colonel said to Camarasa: ‘Kindly confine your address to religious matters. Do not utter a single word which might lower the morale of my people.’ ” (p.198)
Interestingly enough, a thirty-second long “British Movietone” news clip can be seen of Fr. Camarasa coming out of the Alcazar here:
-is it me, or is he wearing a suit and tie? Thirty years before the Council, such priests were already climbing the ranks of the clergy, even in Spain.
Threats to his family, betrayal by the Church, not knowing when or even if help would be coming... this is what a Catholic hero looks like! Many of us -no, most, practically all of us -if we are being honest with ourselves, are not cut from the same cloth. Where are the Moscardos of our day? Far too many of even the good men are Vincente Rojos; and of course, there is no shortage of Camarasas.
We live in a slow-burn Second Spanish Republic, but as mentioned, in many ways it is worse. They had to contend with ‘right wing’ newspapers being attacked and the printing presses destroyed; today, we don’t have any newspapers or any media at all, it is practically all in the hands of the enemy. They had to see their churches, convents and schools being burned down; we today hardly have any churches, convents or schools, they are all in the hands of the enemy. Their potential leaders in the police and armed forces were side-lined, demoted, moved abroad, replaced by Communist fellow travellers; today the friends of Christ don’t appear to have any friends in the police or army, they were all replaced long ago, those institutions are now as good as in the hands of the enemy too.
Not only are the contents of this book fascinating and instructive, they are (alas) largely unknown, not least, in my experience, among Spaniards themselves. In many ways the Spanish Civil War, which the Spanish bishops famously declared a “crusade,” was the last truly just war in which the forces of good and evil were pitted unequivocally against one another. It is typical of our own modern age, an age characterised by lying, that even the friends of the Church should so often be embarrassed by something of which they should, if they only knew, be so proud. The book has been out of print for many years, but second-hand copies can easily be found online.
Thank you, Señor Bolin. Requiem aeterna dona ei Domine et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Amen. ¡ArribaEspaña!