This weekend, after listening to Roger Escapa's interview on Montse Venturós, former mayor of Berga, and read the book almost in one sitting The Republican Rift, by journalists Adrià Santasusagna and Bernat Vilaró, I have understood to what extent the human factor also has a decisive weight in the world of politics and, therefore, in the history of a country.
That the failure of the independence process would take its toll on us as a country was and is obvious. That we should let a few years pass to look at ourselves with some perspective, too. I have often been asked with surprise why Catalan literature has not incorporated this wound and I have always answered that the wound is still open, that we are stunned, that the trauma does not allow us to even talk about it. Francesc Serés is one of the few who have dared, The most beautiful lie. But I was always referring to society: a country that yearns for something and mobilizes to achieve it, that lives through years of effort and hope, and that must finally accept its failure and analyze its causes and perhaps those responsible. Nor can we underestimate the impact this experience has had on the population that neither belongs to nor even felt close to the pro-independence movement; we are seeing its consequences.
But with the interview and the book I mentioned at the beginning, I have clearly seen that, in addition to political frustration, the country has experienced—is experiencing—the sum and combination of hundreds or thousands of personal wounds, of intimate traumas, which have left a mark that will be hard to erase.
Montse Venturós, who was mayor of Berga from 2015 to 2021, explained her point on the program four years after a depression removed her from the political frontline. The supplement from Catalonia Radio. He explained the emotional and physical after-effects of depression and confessed: "I will never forgive ourselves for not achieving independence."
The helplessness, disillusionment, fear, and anguish caused by repression are also present in the book, which explains how a party like Esquerra Republicana, which holds such a significant weight in the history of Catalonia, crumbled. Its leaders, beyond our sympathy or rejection, often appear as vulnerable, bewildered, and wounded.
It's not hard to imagine that throughout the country there are so many people who have been affected by the Process—the failure of the Process—by the process. Each one has chosen a way to overcome that low moment, whether by distancing themselves from politics, looking for culprits, or by diligently keeping alive a flame that they absolutely do not want to go out.
I have the feeling that, seeing us licking our wounds, many observers may be mistaken and, perhaps mixing wishes with political analysis, assume that Catalonia's vocation for independence, as if it were a fever treated with antipyretics, is over.
But I learned a long time ago that wounds – both physical and emotional – need time to heal. They say that in Quebec, after the two referendums, they were vaccinated against the temptations of separatism, but I remind you that, on their coat of arms, the motto written is "Je me souviens". I remember. We remember.
