For Sant Jordi, you can also buy history books. In fact, it is advisable to do so: to buy and read good history books, now that revisionisms, denials, and pseudo-historians are once again occupying platforms and spaces in the media, in addition to flooding social networks. History is one of the most decisive areas of knowledge in the construction of societies and civilizations: without knowing where we come from, we cannot know where we are or who we are, and we are more exposed to lying, self-serving, and – these indeed – indoctrination narratives, which some are interested in spreading to seize control of power.Two excellent books have recently arrived in bookstores to understand what Francoism and Nazism were, and to comprehend the danger posed by the rise of new fascisms and far-right movements. These are the volume El franquisme, by Josep Fontana, published by Eumo, and the essay Els irresponsables, by Johann Chapoutot, published by Angle with translation by Andreu Gomila.Edited by the historian —and Fontana's disciple— Jaume Claret, El franquisme brings together conferences and other texts by one of the most outstanding Catalan historians of the second half of the 20th century, and one of those who analyzed the Francoist regime most penetratingly and incisively, as was Josep Fontana. Reading this book, which combines rigor with the good writing that was its hallmark, disproves and invalidates the relativistic, nostalgic, and amiable views of the forty years of dictatorship that are disseminated by parties like Vox or even the PP, and by their intellectual and media circles. Fontana precisely describes several fundamental aspects of the regime, from the creation and aggrandizement of the figure of the Caudillo to the ideas that Francoism applied in economics, through the involvement of the Spanish Church in the regime's governance, otherwise known as national-catholicism. An agile, yet in-depth, look at black Spain, and, of course, furiously anti-Catalan, which the current nationalist right wants to return to power. A Spain that, contrary to what is often made to believe, is not at all distant in time.The irresponsibles have an explanatory subtitle (Who brought Hitler to power?). Its author, Johann Chapoutot, Professor of Contemporary History at the Sorbonne University, explains how Hitler's rise to power through elections was not a matter of chance, but the result of a series of powers (economic, business, financial, media) who were convinced that a government of the national socialist party would be useful to their interests. These prominent figures of German society were also sure that they would easily control an individual like Hitler and prevent him from losing control and committing excesses. We already know how it all ended, and the parallels with all those who seek to whitewash and normalize Trumps, Netanyahus, Mileis, or Melonis with the argument that they have been voted for are so clear that they do not need to be emphasized.

I am an atheist. And, while remaining so, I now find myself on the side of the Christians. Our enemy is strong: it relies, perhaps without much awareness of it, on paganism, on nature itself, and on the philosophy that followed Friedrich Nietzsche. Perhaps those of us on the Christian side don't even know we are Christians. I'm not talking, of course, about religion, but about a clash between worldviews that erupted in the 20th century and is characterizing the 21st.

There are peoples who have lived under a dictatorship and who quickly forget it, quite content. But there are peoples where this memory is never truly eradicated. This is the case of Romania in the matter of József Nyírő, a writer from Hungarian Transylvania.

Neoliberalism, an economic doctrine quite alien to Adam Smith's classical liberalism, used Chile as an experimental laboratory. Augusto Pinochet's coup d'état enjoyed the political and military sponsorship of the United States, but in terms of ideology, discounting the typical soldierly and curial mantras, it drew almost exclusively from the so-called Chicago School. That is, from the doctrine formulated by economists such as Friedrich von Hayek and Milton Friedman: the State is a mafia gang, taxes are theft, there is no freedom other than that of the market, solidarity hinders the system, and so on.

A few days after publishing Consent (Empúries), Vanessa Springora (Paris, 1972) received a call from the police asking her to identify the body of her father, who had committed suicide. In the apartment where he lived, which had belonged to her grandparents, they found a pile of dirt and two photos of her paternal grandfather with Nazi symbols. From there, Springora, who had not spoken to her father for years, began an investigation to understand who her grandfather was and, as a result, a pathological liar and lacking in empathy. She shares it with readers in The name of the father, translated by Marta Marfany and published by Empúries.

We know Vanessa Springora on the impact of her first book, Consent (published in French in 2020 and in Catalan in 2021). The volume narrates her seduction by the writer Gabriel Matzneff when she was a teenager. She was in love, her mother consented to the relationship (hence the title), and he was a known pedophilia propagandist. In the absence of her father, living with her estranged mother, Springora fell prey to a collector of young girls—and young boys—who didn't hesitate to turn many of her literary works into apologetics for pedophilia.

Finland will remove the swastikas that still fly on the flags of some of its air force units. The decision is intended to avoid controversy and misunderstandings with its Western allies, following the country's accession to NATO in April 2023.

On the occasion of the official events commemorating the 80th anniversary of the liberation of the Nazi camps, all the news stories this Monday highlighted that, for the first time, a head of state of the Kingdom of Spain was finally visiting the Mauthausen camp. Where 7,000 Republicans perished under the perpetual infamy of Nazism. That the first time was in May 2025 almost explains everything, and almost nothing more needs to be added. And yet, the headline isn't accurate either. The newspaper archives don't exactly say the same thing. First and a half times, first time around, first and only once, if anything. Because it should be added that in February 1978, Juan Carlos I went, and then didn't go at the same time. On tiptoe. During an official visit to Austria, he preferred to send a minimal delegation to the camp, outside of any official agenda, while he visited the powerful steel industry in Linz and went to the Vienna Opera. Minister Marcelino Oreja also avoided any visit. The discreet, smaller delegation consisted of two people, a chief of protocol and a member of the Royal Household Secretariat, who left flowers that read:"The King of Spain in the Spaniards who died outside their homeland". How could I say nothing – they died away from home and that was it.

On the occasion of the official events commemorating the 80th anniversary of the liberation of the Nazi camps, all the news stories this Monday highlighted that, for the first time, a head of state of the Kingdom of Spain was finally visiting the Mauthausen camp. Where 7,000 Republicans perished under the perpetual infamy of Nazism. That the first time was in May 2025 almost explains everything, and almost nothing more needs to be added. And yet, the headline isn't accurate either. The newspaper archives don't exactly say the same thing. First and a half times, first time around, first and only once, if anything. Because it should be added that in February 1978, Juan Carlos I went, and then didn't go at the same time. On tiptoe. During an official visit to Austria, he preferred to send a minimal delegation to the camp, outside of any official agenda, while he visited the powerful steel industry in Linz and went to the Vienna Opera. Minister Marcelino Oreja also avoided any visit. The discreet, smaller delegation consisted of two people, a chief of protocol and a member of the Royal Household Secretariat, who left flowers that read:"The King of Spain in the Spaniards who died outside their homeland". How could I say nothing – they died away from home and that was it.

Perhaps more than ever, the protagonists of the Nazi rise to power continue to be the subject of analysis and debate. This is the case of Leni Riefenstahl (Berlin, 1902 - Pöcking, 2003), the quintessential filmmaker of the Third Reich, who stars in the documentary that opens the film. DocsBarcelona This Thursday, the very day that marks eight decades since the end of World War II in Europe. Riefenstahl, by Andres Veiel (Stuttgart, 1959), dives for nearly two hours into the archives of the director ofThe triumph of the will and Olympia, a collection of more than 700 boxes of documents, letters, films, and nearly 200,000 photographs. "It was a challenge because she was very manipulative, and before she died, she cleared the archive of incriminating documents, so things were missing," Veiel explains.

Eighty years after dictator Adolf Hitler's suicide in his Berlin bunker on April 30, 1945, while surrounded by Soviet troops, the crimes of National Socialism continue to weigh heavily on Germany. However, more and more Germans want to turn the page on the country's Nazi past, amid the rise of the far right in Germany and Europe.