Bla bla bla

[nooj]

A couple of weeks ago, I hiked into the town of Leitza, in Nafarroa. It is a beautiful town of under 3 000 people. There was no tourism office or anyone to attend me, but there was a little office where I could pick up brochures and this very interesting survey meant for tourists who come to the town (available in Spanish or Basque. I chose Basque). My answers are in bold.

As part of their tourist model, Leitza consciously sells itself as Basque-speaking. If people come to these towns, it's not just for the mountains, rivers, local food, but also the culture. I never studied tourism studies of course, but I imagine that in a ferociously competitive marketplace, tourist professionals are taught that differentiating themselves (as opposed to just appealing to every kind of tourist) can also be an effective strategy. They're looking for a particular kind of tourist, one that will not put into jeopardy their language. See this article (in Basque) for some information they have acquired from the survey. Namely, it turns out many visitors appreciate Basque, have no problem with seeing it or hearing it or being addressed to in Basque, in fact, the Basque language constitutes an attractive factor for many of them.

To me, this should be contrasted to the Balearic Island's government's attitude towards Catalan as a tourist draw. Catalan, from what I saw in my time living there, took a second or third place in tourism campaigns. Why should Catalan be treated as some kind of obstacle or embarrassment, and not one of its principal attractives?

And if we were to try to attract a different breed of tourist, one who is just as interested in the language and culture of the Balearic Islands, as its natural beauty? Needless to say as well, discourage as much as possible the kind of alcohol-fuelled tourism that no one needs with the clear message that if you want to get drunk and throw up, you can do it in your own country.



Leitza was also the second place in Spain where I heard Quechua. Surprisingly enough, neither the first nor the second time were in big cities, but one was a reasonably big town in Mallorca (10,000) and the second was in Leitza, at a bakery. While I was ordering in Basque, next to me, I was happy to hear a worker in the bakery address another client in Quechua. Even in this relatively small town.





This questionnaire has been prepared by the Basque Department of the Leitza Town Hall, to find out about the relationship that you have had with Basque in our region. Thank you for sharing your opinion.

Where do you come from?
1 - From the Basque Country. Where from? ______
2 - From another community in the Spanish state. Where from? ______
3 - From another community in the French state. Where from? ______
4 - From another state. Where from? Australia

a) You have chosen to visit Leitza. 85% of the people here are Basque speakers, and many townspeople live their lives in Basque. How much importance did the town being a "Basque speaking town" have in your decision to come here?

1 - We didn't know anything about it.
2 - It´s not the main reason, but we've found it valuable.
3 - We knew about it but we didn´t take it into account.
4 - We knew about it and we took it into account.
5 - It was one of the reasons to come to Leitza.

b) In what concerns the signs, the merchandise, the services, the hotelery:

b.1 When you found that the signs, posters and notices were all in Basque, what did you think about it?
1- I didn't like it
2 - Good, we managed.
3 - I'm thankful for it, it's nice to valorise what's local in a local place.

b.2. How did you take it when they addressed you in Basque?
1- I didn't like it.
2 - Good, we managed.
3 - I'm thankful for it, it's nice to valorise what's local in a local place.

c) In this visit, what kind of relation have you had with Basque?
1 - We aren't very comfortable (write down why below).
2 - It didn't cause us any trouble.
3 - We liked it.
4 - We liked it a lot.

d) Anything else to mention?

Segi euskaraz hitz egiten, atzerritarroi ere bai, badira euskaraz baloratzen dugun turistok!

Keep on speaking Basque, to us foreigners as well, there are tourists like us who value Basque.

[nooj]

A mural in the town of Elizondo, in the Baztan valley of Nafarroa. And I was indeed able to confirm that there, the word for hangover is bestondoa. The Basque reads Palestinara itzuliko gara 'we will return to Palestine' referencing the desire of the Palestinian people to return home from their long exile, and the Right of Return. The Arabic says فلسطين و إنا إليها لجعون, and means the same thing. Well, the emphatic lam لام التوكيد could be translated as 'we SHALL return to Palestine', and in Basque you could translate that emphasis as: Palestinara itzuli egingo gara.

[nooj]

The Basque name first, the Spanish name underneath deleted.

What do I think about petty vandalism?

I'm all for it.

[nooj]

Today I want to talk about where the words erdara (language that is not Basque, foreign language) and erdaldun (speaker of a language that is not Basque) comes from.

Basque, in the Basque language, is called euskara, eskuara, üskara, uskara and other some such names depending on the dialect. If the first part eusk- is etymologically unclear, the second part is not: it comes from -ara, which means in the manner of. Someone who speaks Basque speaks in a Basquish (eusk-) manner (-ara).

A speaker of a foreign language (erdara) speaks in the manner (-ara) of erd-. Where does this erd- come from? Obviously, it comes from erdi, which means half. The speaker of a language other than Basque, speaks a half language.

In the chauvinism or egocentricism of human beings, one's own language is the true language. At best, the others speak funny. At worst, it was a common trope for the ancient Greeks to refer to the languages of the βάρβαροι as chattering birds. Or how Slavic speakers named speakers of Germanic languages, 'mutes' e.g. Serbo-Croatian Не́мац.

As for the dichotomous, primordial opposition between the Basque speaker euskaldun and the foreign speaker erdaldun, the etymology is straight forward. Imagine the original compound was euskaradun and erdaradun, where regular syllable elision and sound change lead to euskaldun and erdaldun, and where the second element -dun comes from what was a relative clause. An euskara-dun is someone who euskara duena, literally someone who has or possesses Basque, and a erdara-dun is someone who erdara duena, someone who has a foreign language.

To finish off this post, here is a phrase that one hears often: euskara da euskaldun egiten gaituena. The Basque language is what makes us Basques. This phrase, repeated by Basque speakers amongst themselves, expresses what many Basques think is a core part of their Basque identity. Indeed, in the Basque language until very recently in its history, there was no word to say Basque that did not also mean Basque speaker. Now, there are terms like euskal herritar (a citizen of the Basque Country), or Euskal Herriko biztanle (an inhabitant of the Basque Country).

One time I was talking with a Basque speaker and I referred to myself as a 'euskaldun' and I stopped myself, corrected myself and said 'euskara hitz egiten duena gisa', as someone who speaks Basque. The interlocutor stopped me in turn and said, no, you are euskaldun. I didn't press on that, but I clearly don't feel Basque and would never describe myself as Basque, even if for Basque speakers I am 'a Basque speaker'. And who knows, being a Basque speaker may be even more important to some Basques than 'being Basque' merely by virtue of having been born in the Basque Country with Basque ancestry: after all, there are plenty of Basques who don't speak Basque, or worse, actively hate the language (see the far-right leader, Santiago Abascal).

[nooj]

The author Victor Hugo traveled in the Basque Country, both the North and the South. For a time, he even lived in Pasaia, a beautiful fishing community and port in Gipuzkoa. He wrote rapturous lines about this place, and the port today remains beautiful as it must have been in the 19th century.

Hugo wrote this reflection, charged with the Romantic view about the Basques in vogue among intellectuals at the time, in 1843, in the travel publication 'En voyage, Alpes et Pyrénées':

J'ajoute qu'ici un lien secret et profond et que rien n'a pu rompre unit, même en dépit des Pyrénées, ces frontières naturelles, tous les membres de la mystérieuse famille basque. Le vieux mot Navarre n'est pas un mot. On naît basque, on parle basque, on vit basque et l'on meurt basque. La langue basque est une patrie, j'ai presque dit une religion. Dites un mot basque à un montagnard dans la montagne; avant ce mot, vous étiez à peine un homme pour lui; ce mot prononcé, vous voilà son frère. La langue espagnole est ici une étrangère comme la langue française.

I add that here unites all the members of the mysterious Basque family, a secret and profound bond that nothing has been able to break (not even the Pyrenees, those natural barriers). The ancient word Navarra is not just a word. Here one is born Basque, one speaks Basque, one lives Basque and one dies Basque. The Basque language is a motherland, I've nearly said before that it was a religion. Speak a Basque word to a mountain dweller in the mountains. Before this word, you were barely a man in his eyes. After addressing this word to him, you are his brother. The Spanish language, like the French one, is here a foreign language.

In the 19th century, Spanish and French had firm roots in the intelligentsia and the bourgeoisie of the Basque Country. In that sense, Spanish and French were not unknown languages in the Basque Country. But there is a sense in which it is true that they were foreign languages. The vast majority of Basques still spoke Basque as their mother language at this time, a situation that would not change in the North Basque Country for example until the mid 20th century.

But regardless of these profound changes, it remains true that among Basque speakers of the 21st century, the Basque language creates a special bond. Euskara da nire aberria. The Basque language is my motherland.

[nooj]

Today I bring you a story taken from the 2010 edition of the local magazine Uztarria, serving the city of Azkoitia.

The story was taken from the book Aldjezairia askatuta 'Liberated Algeria', written in 1983 by North Basque writer Txomin Peillen. He drew from his experiences serving in Algeria as a medic in the French army, as he mentions in this interview.

Badirudi Algeriak sakon markatu zintuela...

Hango gerran gauza gogorrak ikusi nituen. Osasun zerbitzuan ibili nintzen soldadutzan. Gurutze Gorriko karta batekin ibiltzen nintzen, erizain nagusi bezala. Algeriar zibilak etortzen ziren gugana, eta arabiera ere ikasi nuen, modu xume batean. Eritasun anitz tratatu behar izan nituen: tuberkulosia, tifusa, begietako trakoma...

Baina horren guztiaren gainetik, Algeriak bake zaletasuna eman zizun...

Bai, hala da, Algerian tortura zer den ikusi bainuen. Zakurrak balira bezala tratatzen ziren presoak. Debekatzen ziguten haiekin medikuntza egitea. Hortik heldu zitzaidan bake zaletasuna.

It seems like Algeria really left a mark on you...

I saw really horrible things in the war over there. As part of my military service, I was in the health service. I used to go around with a letter from the Red Cross, as a head nurse. Algerian civilians used to come to us, and I learned Arabic as well, to a modest extent. We had to treat a lot of sicknesses: tuberculosis, typhus, tracoma...

But on top of all that, Algeria made you into a pacifist...

Yes, because I saw what torture was in Algeria. They treated prisoners as if they were dogs. They prohibited us from giving them medical treatment. From there came my pacifism.

Zaharra naiz. Frantsesek ez dakite denbora galtzen dutela eta hala nahita galarazten diedala. Ez zaizkit axola bizitze-hiltzeak: etsaiek tortura nazakete, ez dut aitortuko. Gainera, zer dakit? Ni torturatzen nauten artean ez dituzte gazteagoak torturatzen. Goiza gela hutsean joan zait. Biluzik jarri naute, barrabiletan jo. Gero, telefono-hari bat ahoan, bestea koskoiletan. Elektrizitatea gorputza gaindi kurritzen denean, hiltzen den ardia bezala zapartatzen gara. Lehenengo aldian buruan min izugarria eman dit, eta giharretan oinazea. Zaila naiz, eta ofizial galdekatzaileak ez daki bere jokoari ohitzen ari naizela. Alferrik joan zaie goiza. Larruzko gerrikoarekin jo naute. Nire larru zimurtuari zer? Lotuta nagoenean eta aurpegian jotzen nautenenean dut min gehien.

Txarrena ez da frantses galdekatzailea, ofiziala. Hari begitartean ikusten diot zer gertatzen zaion. Ez du egiteko horretan iraungo. Gauza bat da gizon sendo, gihartsu, morroskoa izatea, eta beste zera bat, oso bestelakoa, inor tormentatzea...

Hain zuzen, beste morroi batek ematen dit beldurra. Kaboa da, ez ofiziala, gure herrian jaiotako oin-beltza, ez Frantziakoa. Manzano deritzo. Manzanok, amaren altzotik atera berri den mutikoa dirudi, bizarra ordez ile mehea, emakume begi eztiak, erraz gorritzen direnak, koxkorra eta flakoa da... baina inori min egiten egiazko buruzagia. Gure ohitura, gure hizkuntza ezagutzen ditu. Urde horrek oraindik orain aitorrarazi dit. Gure etxekoen helbidea zekienez, hamalau urteko iloba torturatu dit, aurrean. Gauean ilobak ihes egin du, ordea, eta nik ez aitortu.

Joan den astean, beren jolas batean erabili gaituzte. Frantses erregimentura ofizial berria heltzen den aldiro, jolas bat egiten diote, gu jostailu. Nahiz eta gauden gotorlekura berebilean etor litekeen, hemendik lau kilometrora jaitsarazten dute eta mando gainean igota gure presondegira dakarte zuzen. Horrela, azken aldian, ofizial gaztea gure patiora sarrarazi dute: lau preso ginen haga batzuei sokaz loturik, neguko haizean ikaran... Ikusgarria! Ederrena, erdian, ikatz goritan, burdin barra, aliketak berotzen. Ofizial gazteari preso bat ekarri diote burdina bero harekin errez, galdeketa egin ziezaion. Ofizial berria zurbildu da, ez du komeria ulertu. Baina ekarri dioten gerrillari gaztea, ikusitakoaz harrituta, hitz egiten, aitortzen eta ezagutzen zituen guztiak esaten hasi da. Badakit salatari ahul horrek zer egingo duen: frantsesa dakienez, etsaien armadan sartuko dute, sari bezala.

I am old. The French don't know that they're wasting their time with me, and that I am purposely making them waste their time. Living or dying, I don't give a damn. The enemies can torture me, I won't give up information. What do I know anyway?

As long as they're torturing me, they aren't torturing youngsters. The morning passed me by in my empty cell. They stripped me naked, hit my testicles. Later, they put a telephone wire in my mouth, the other one they attached to my balls. When electricity runs over a body, we die like sheep.

The first time, my head hurt a lot, and my muscles ached. I'm a difficult case. The official interrogator doesn't know that I'm getting used to his tricks. They wasted the whole morning on me. They hit me with leather belts. What's that to me and to my wrinkled skin? It's when they tie me up and hit me in the face that it hurts the most.

The worst one isn't the French interrogator, the official. When I look at his face, I can see what's up. He won't last long in this job. It's one thing to be a strong, strapping young lad, and another thing entirely to torture someone...

It's the other kid who frightens me. He's a corporal, but not an official. A pied-noir born in our country, not in France. He's called Manzano. Manzano looks like a kid who's just left his mother's bosom, he has patchy hair instead of a beard, soft womanish eyes that go red quickly, he's a youngster and thin...but a true boss at inflicting pain. He knows our customs, our language. That pig got me to say something recently. As he knew the address of my family, brought and tortured my nephew, 14 years old, in front of me. At night though my nephew escaped and I shut up again.

Last week, they used us for one of their games. Every time that a new official comes to the French regiment, they play a game on him, with us as the toys. Although he can come in his vehicle to the fortress where we are imprisoned, they make him get out four kilometers from here, put him on a mule and bring him to our prison. Thus the young official finally was lead into our patio: we were four prisoners tied to some beams, shivering in the winter wind...horrible! The 'best' thing, in the middle of red hot coals, an iron bar, heating some pincers. They brought a prisoner to the young official so that they might interrogate him by burning him with the iron. The new official turned white, he didn't understand the comedy. But the young guerilla who they brought to him, frightened by what he saw, started talking, confessing, and saying all the things that he knew. I know what that weak sell out will do: as he knows French, they will incorporate him into the enemy's army, as a reward.


***

At the end of the article, there comes a small anecdote, this time something that happened in the South Basque Country (in the Spanish state) in 2010.

(Joan den hilean, martxoaren 4an, bi gazte atxilotu zituen Ertzaintzak Ibarran. Kartelak jartzen ari omen ziren. Cara al sol entzunarazi zieten hiru aldiz. Libre irten ziren bi gazteak. Omen.)

Last month, on the 4th of March, the Ertzainza (Basque police force) in the town of Ibarra arrested two young people. According to the police, they were putting up posters. They made them listen to the song 'Cara al sol' three times. The two youths were let go. So they say.

The Cara al Sol was the hymn of the Falange, the Spanish fascist organisation originally created by the first dictator Primo de Rivera, and a song later adopted by that later, other dictator, Francisco Franco.

[nooj]

Here is a list of some Basque colours with their English counterparts. I will bold the terms that are natively Basque, not borrowed from other languages.

KOLOREA - COLOUR

zuri - white
beltz - black
gorri - red
berde - green
hori - yellow
urdin - blue
marroi - brown
more - purple
arrosa - pink
laranja - orange
grisa - grey

Most colour terms in Basque are borrowed from other languages through the main languages it has been in contact with, including the word for green, and the word for colour itself. There is no native word for colour nor for green.

Purists tried inventing or extending words in order to cover what seemed to them a glaring or embarrasing absence.

The arch-nationalist and terrible philologist Sabino Arana created the word orlegi in the 19th century, coming from orri (leaf) and the suffix -legi, in analogy with another more limited word for yellow, which is beilegi, referring to a very intense yellow.

The Basque author Nikolas Ormaetxea tried to expand semantically the word musker, which refers to the green lizard, by extropalting the colour of the animal to create a colour for the word in general, c.f. the word orange, which covers both the fruit and the colour.

The linguist Txillardegi opposed such puristic efforts. As he pointed out, purists have only focused on the etymology of the word. Making a 'native' Basque word for green ignores - or even perpetuates - a far deeper, structural, calquing on the surrounding languages, that is to say, by doting a native word on a 'foreign' colour, it accepts the way that Spanish and French and most European languages cut up the colour spectrum.

At some point in the past, Basques did not feel the need to distinguish with the linguistic means at their disposal the colour green from other colours, whether that be yellow or blue. Eventually, as everyone around them did have this recourse in their languages, they adopted their word (berde), and in doing so they adopted their way of classifying colours as well. Introducing fanciful words does not in any way change that historical fact.

If orlegi had ever become widespread (it has not) by virtue of the supposed merits of its 'native' authenticity, it would have further entrenched the Standard Average European language worldview with the false cover of Basque authenticity. That is to say, creating the word orlegi pretends to say that Basques always thought and saw colours this way, which is wholly ahistorical. By trying to make oneself more different from the rest, one actually makes oneself more similar to the rest! The same thing can be said of musker, except here it is semantic calquing on nearby languages.

At least today, any Basque speaker with a little bit of self-reflection can realise that their word for green is taken from other languages because of the phonological similarity with verde or vert. Txillardegi preferred keeping berde in the Basque language as a witness to the point in time when Basques adopted the worldview of the language speaker communities around them, as if this word were to be a perpetual dust mote in the eye, pricking the listener and inciting him/her to realise that there was once a time when Basques did not linguistically separate green from blue.

How recent is the word berde anyway? Or said differently, at what point did Basque speakers start distinguishing a separate colour, green, in their language. Is it an ancient Latin loanword from viridis? I'm no linguist, but given the sheer amount of recent loanwords that Basque has taken from nearby Romance languages, including colour terms like arrosa or laranja, it seems more straightforward to assume Basque berde also comes from Spanish verde.

Txillardegi says that if we look to the oldest Basque-Spanish dictionary Dictionarium linguae cantabricae, Bocabularioa ezqueraz jaquiteco eta ezqueraz verba eguitec' (in modern Basque orthography, bokabulario euskaraz jakiteko eta euskaraz berba egiteko) created in 1562 by the Italian author Nicolao Landuchio, next to the Spanish entry 'verde', the Basque column is left empty. This is curious because Landuchio used Basque language informants, and in his dictionary he had no qualms about including Basque words that sound similar to their Spanish counterpart. The expected berde that Basques use today is simply missing.

If he did not include a Basque word for green, it may be because in the 16th century, Basque speakers - or at least his informants - did not have a word for green.

[guyome]

Very interesting!

If orlegi had ever become widespread (it has not) by virtue of the supposed merits of its 'native' authenticity, it would have further entrenched the Standard Average European language worldview with the false cover of Basque authenticity. That is to say, creating the word orlegi pretends to say that Basques always thought and saw colours this way, which is wholly ahistorical. By trying to make oneself more different from the rest, one actually makes oneself more similar to the rest!

Something similar happened/happens in (Neo-)Breton. Many words have been created because they were supposedly needed (or to replace a borrowing from French), others have seen their use expanded, but the result is always that Breton is brought closer to French, the very thing these neologisms/recategorisations were supposed to avoid!

[nooj]

Something similar happened/happens in (Neo-)Breton. Many words have been created because they were supposedly needed (or to replace a borrowing from French), others have seen their use expanded, but the result is always that Breton is brought closer to French, the very thing these neologisms/recategorisations were supposed to avoid!

It's difficult isn't it.

I think some of the earlier revitalisers did not have a positive image of the people who spoke the language that they professed to be saving. Some of them were just classist arseholes, let's be honest.

But even with the best of intentions, the socio-economic divides between the oldest generation of native speakers and the newest, make it hard to transmit or transfer their cosmovision to a new generation, without outraging said cosmovision too much in the necessary modification. In a language community with healthy intergenerational transmission, the psychic shock of transitioning, for example, from a mostly rural to a most urban society is cushioned and happens over a period of decades.

Some of Sabino Arana's neologisms have survived to modern Basque. Some are even used a lot. Like I said orlegi is very rarely used in normal life, in comparison to the universal berde. But it may be familiar to you if you follow football (I don't), in the anthem of Athletic Bilbao:

Gaztedi gorri-zuria
zelai orlegian
Euskalherriaren
erakusgarria.

The red-white youths
On the green football field
Symbol of the Basque Country

Another one of Arana's neologisms is aberri, which means fatherland. It comes from aba (father) + herri (land). From this word comes other derivations, like the word for nationalist or patriot: abertzale = aberri + zale (devotee). One of the important days in the Basque calender is Aberri Eguna, the day of the fatherland, a celebration and reinvindication of the Basque Country.

For Arana, as an ultra-Catholic traditionalist, his ideal model of the Basque family was one where the man was at the head.

No surprise then, that I prefer a more recent neologism. From ama (mother) + herri (land) we can make amerri (motherland). And instead of a patriot, one can be an amertzale, a matriot.

[nooj]

In 2001, the now defunct newspaper Egunkaria reported on the remarks of a councillor of the Welsh nationalist party Plaid Cymru. His name was Seimon Glyn, and he was at that time the chair of the Plaid Cymru Housing Committee of the county of Gwynedd. Gwynedd is the most Welsh speaking county in Wales.

Egunkaria, by the way, was the only Basque language newspaper of its time and was closed in 2003 by order of a Spanish court, for allegedly having links to the terrorist organisation ETA. The seizure and closure was later legally declared spurious and politically motivated.

Here is what Glyn said on BBC Wales:

We’re faced with a situation now where we are getting tidal waves of migration, inward migration into our rural areas from England and these people are coming to live, to establish themselves here and to influence our communities and our culture with their own… Now if they were coming here under strict monitoring and control and if, for example, they were made aware of you know the different cultural aspects of these areas and made to or be persuaded to learn Welsh and to integrate smoothly into our communities there wouldn’t be a problem

Glyn was referring to retired, elderly English people moving into the area, sometimes buying secondary homes. As the Egunkaria article mentions:

Gwynedden urtebetean saldutako jabetzen herena kanpotik joandako jendeak eskuratu zuen, eta zinegotzi batzuek Galesko Legebiltzarrari eskatu zioten bertako herritarrek etxeak erosi ahal izateko neurriak hartzeko. Izan ere, ingelesek diru gehiago ordaintzen dute etxeengatik, eta bertako herritarrak kanpora joatera bultzatzen ditu horrek. Glynek egoera hori salatu baino pixka bat lehenago, ikerketa batek ohartarazi zuen nekazari galestar komunitateak desager zitezkeela etxe salmenta handiarengatik.

A third of the properties sold yearly in Gwynedd were acquired by people who came from outside the county, and some councillors have asked the Welsh Parliament to take measures so that local residents can buy houses, as the English pay more money for the houses, which pushes local residents to leave. Shortly before Glyn denounced the situation, a study warned that rural Welsh communities could disappear due to the large sale of housing.

Glyn was vociferously criticised for his remarks from all political sides, called a racist, xenophobe and so forth. Including for his remarks about the Welsh language, about making or encouraging English immigrants learn the language. Curiously, Britain imposing English language qualifications on international immigrants seemed to cause much less waves in the media...

And yet, what he said was and still remains true.

Compare the situation in the North Basque Country, where a full 25% of all housing is classified as 'secondary housing', that is, property that outsiders buy and leave mostly empty for the year, only to come during summer. Meanwhile, the demand for primary housing among actual residents cannot be satisfied, and the prices go up, forcing residents, especially youths, to leave the area altogether. You can imagine the serious deletrious effects this can have on a language community. Physical contiguity of a language speaker community is important.

There are probably thousands of Basque speakers living in Paris and its metropolitan area. But they are spread out and do not constitute a majority in any one place. A Basque speaker who is forced to leave their town in the Basque Country in order to find work and a house that he or she cannot find at home, is a 'lost' Basque speaker in a sea of erdaldunak. And so long as the laboral and housing conditions at home remain poor, there's every possibility that the loss becomes permanent, and they will not return home.

Healthcare in areas that are the subject of secondary housing are focused towards looking after people who are only there for a few days a year, people who contribute in no meaningful way to the life of a place for most of the year. Meanwhile infrastructure that is required all year round for people who live there all year around like public transportation, hospitals, communications and education are neglected. The consequence is this: the Basque Country loses its natives, 'gains' foreigners who are attracted there by the weather. Not exactly a firm basis to create a society out of. Or a Basque language community. The biggest such increases are noted for the coastal areas, but even in the interior (far more rural), the trend is being noted.

Let's examine some of the metropolitan areas in the Basque Country. Basque name first, French name second. These are figures from several years ago, 2015-2017.

Miarritze (Biarritz): 41% of the housing are secondary homes.

Donibane Lohizune (Saint-Jean-de-Luz): 47% of the housing are secondary homes.

Getaria (Guéthary): 48% of the housing are secondary homes.

What to do? Starting with the legal option, tax the shit out of the secondary homes. If they're going to live there, at least get some money out of it to pump back into the region. And that's precisely what some communes have done, with secondary residences paying up to 60% of the housing tax, often in the face of opposition from powerful interest groups and land developers.

The Basque nationalists are the ones who have been fighting against property speculation from the very beginning. They are currently the leading left wing coalition in the Basque Country, and second party overall. Their rise to political relevancy over the past decades in the North Basque Country is stunning, given their extremely humble beginnings. Mainstream political parties on both the left and the right used to create a 'cordon sanitaire' around them, fearing their political (Basque nationalism, independence), ecological (green ecologists) and economic (socialism) ideology. Today however, in many parts of the Basque Country, gaining support or creating a coalition from Basque nationalists is necessary to even govern at all. All this, they have slowly accrued by years of good governance.



Euskal Herria ez da salgai, this graffiti reads: the Basque Country is not for sale. Spayprainted on a secondary house, empty for most of the year. Graffiti and even arson attacks against tourist houses and property speculators (real estate agents) have been recorded as well.