Reds against blues, progressives against conservatives, Catholics against anticlericals... That would be the summary of the two Spains used to fighting each other. At least, that's what the stereotype claims. Between both extremes, has there been some type of middle way, what has been called Third Spain, which would represent balance, moderation and, ultimately, coexistence?
Theories in this regard are so abundant that it can be said that we are swimming in a sea of confusion. For some, the Third Spain simply does not exist, it is a pure entelechy. Those who do believe in it define it in many different ways. Are we talking about the intellectuals who did not choose any side in 1936? From the democracy of 1978?
To provide some clarity in such murky waters, the Italian historian Alfonso Botti has written Histories of the “third Spains” (1923-2022), an essay as well-documented as it is lucid and even-handed. He shows how, over time, the expression Third Spain has been used with very varied intentions. Sometimes, without those two words appearing explicitly. Botti does very well by focusing not only on the words, but on the thing itself, moving away from so many Byzantine discussions in which the key seems to be the signifier and not the meaning.
We find, first of all, an unconventional vision of the Civil War, in which what is important are those who wanted mediation between both sides, figures such as the jurist Alfredo Mendizábal or the diplomat Salvador de Madariaga. The latter proposed the existence of three Spains, which would correspond to three Francises: Franco, Largo Caballero and Giner de los Ríos.
Left-wing historiography has stigmatized this type of people, due to their reluctance to commit to the Republic, the legitimate regime. To our author, this type of disqualification does not seem fair. He thinks that the task of historiography is not to make moral judgments, but to help us understand the past, especially if, as is the case, it presents such extraordinary complexity.
In the best tradition of Hispanicists, Botti brings serenity to a debate that is too often tense. He presents data and arguments, which will surely arouse, in some cases, astonishment. Did you know that the only Spanish institution that has apologized for what it did in the war is the Catholic Church? He did so in 1971, during the Joint Assembly of Bishops and Priests.
But, perhaps, the greatest originality of the Italian professor is the way in which he interprets the silences, those periods, such as the Transition, in which the Third Spain is poorly mentioned, although the opposite could be expected. In that context in which democracy was being built in the midst of difficulties, it was better to avoid the topic so as not to have to refer, by association, to the two Spains that had to be overcome.
Can we reach any conclusion? The internal divisions of our country are not an anomaly in the European context. We only need to remember that there was, for example, a France of Pétain and another of De Gaulle. The problem would not be so much explaining what the “Third Spain” consists of, but rather that the other two are poorly defined and belong more to the realm of myth than reality.
In a minefield like this, in which words usually have so many ideological connotations, it is utopian to think of a definitive study. Botti did not intend to write it, but only to contribute to advancing a necessary debate to clarify who we are and where we are going.
