The Hidden Battle of Identity and Language in Spain
I expected Valencia to be a city of history, art, or food. When I arrived, I was surprised to hear the stark contrasts in the regional languages spoken by the people here. No online tour guide mentioned this in my anxious google searches in preparation for Spain. In Valencia, the two languages that collide are Castilian and Catalan, except Catalan is not an off-shoot from Spanish. Castilian is the standard language in most of Spain.
My first encounter with Spain’s usage of language is in Valencia. The city garden of Turia that curves halfway around center city is called the Rio or river. The garden is a wide sunken path with palm trees, monuments, soccer fields, and a host of joggers and cyclists. But no water runs through the river, nevertheless people continue to call it the Rio, several years after it was sectioned off from the actual flowing river of Turia.
Before it was sectioned off, the river went straight through Valencia. However, in 1957, a flood led to 81 deaths. Afterward, the government rerouted the river toward the outskirt of Valencia and turned the old riverbed into a nature path.
With all the stone, paved walkways, and planted trees, people still call it the river. The simple reason is because it used to be a river. But I see it as a cultural habit. Here in Valencia, they hold on to both old and new ways, especially in their language. It’s a unique and common character trait of this port town of Spain, which leads to confusion for first timers like me.
I felt disappointed because I would have loved to see a river flowing through the city. It would add to the natural awe of the park. Beforehand, I even googled the Rio to check where the water was, but found only pavement and trees. I was naive and thought that Google was wrong. Even though Valencia has a clear blue sea nearby, it does not carry the same merriment of a river.
The language further obscured when I explored the town. While walking down almost any street, I noticed a difference in street signs as I tried to find my way around. Streets signs would say ‘carrer’ or ‘calle’. Or the signs would say ‘avinguda’ or ‘avenida’. The former terms are Catalan and the latter are Castilian.
An online source states that Valencian is a dialect of Catalan, agreed upon by linguists. The cab driver who brought me to my host family’s apartment declared it a schism between regional languages, but he said it with the passion of a national defending his homeland. Some people refer to Valencia’s Spanish as Valencian and others refer to it as Catalan.
For the cab driver, Valencian has enough identity to be considered independent from Catalan.
The cab driver told me that the Catalans held tight to their language because they were one of the last provinces to lose their autonomy under Spain. The cabby added that the correct Spanish here is Valencian and that the Catalans were snobby and elitist.
The cab driver spoke with conviction. I loved that there was an “us versus them” mentality between Valencian and Catalans. It meant to me that there was a history of contempt between these regions. It’s refreshing to learn that a country isn’t homogeneous and to find the details in their people.
In “Spain — Culture Smart!: The Essential Guide to customs and Culture”, it points out that “a Spaniard’s first loyalty is to his region, not to Spain.” This prevalent attitude fostered the regional languages and dialects found in Spain, along with the cab driver’s contempt toward Catalans.
According to a Guardian report, Catalan is a language independent of Spanish that developed from Latin roots caused by Roman invasions. This explains why Catalan shares similarities to Spanish and French.
After the Moors were driven out of Spain, people from the Catalan region repopulated Valencia. This is how Valencia officially adopted Catalan. However, once Spain was united by the marriage of Isabella and Ferdinand, Castilian became the language of the land.
Due to immigration from Spain’s southern regions, the Catalan region grew to become bilingual.
On my trip to Barcelona, I saw this first hand. At a seafood restaurant, menus would come in three languages, Castilian, Catalan, and English. Shops would either all be in Catalan or share space with Castilian. In Barcelona, the clash of languages was more prevalent than in Valencia.
In Valencia, I have encountered more Castilian than Catalan. However, the remnants of Catalan are heard in the dialect.
I found unconfirmed sources online that say that Valencia went through a linguistic and identity conflict in the late 70s into the early 80s. According to these reports, Valencia felt that they were not Catalans. They wanted to remove themselves from that identity. They began to consider themselves and their language as Valencian.
If true, this would explain the cab driver’s distaste for Catalans. Compacted for Catalonia’s desire to separate from Spain, I can understand why other Spaniards could hold dislike toward them.
For me, it’s the same albeit unfair dislike I hold for Texas and the South whenever I hear about separatists notions. Even my own state of New Jersey has a group of separatist who want South Jersey to split from the rest of New Jersey.
Were it not for the regional pride in Spain, I would think nothing of this river of Turia. However, after learning of the Catalan separatist, Valencian identity, and history of their language, I see the river as a microcosm of these regional conflicts.
Catalan’s past remains strong and Valencia remains resolute in creating a new identity. The river was reconstructed into a park, but that didn’t take away it’s original name. Catalonia, under Spain, did not forget it’s origin. Valencia, under Catalan and Spanish influence, wishes to create a new name for itself.
