Leopoldo Ortega-Monasterio is a wise psychiatrist, with a good pen and good humor, who brightens the end of meetings by singing, guitar in hand, songs from the old tuna. After dinner he graced us with some nostalgic Imperial Violets. Sitting down and while he stirs his coffee, he asks me: “Who do you think has been the most important person in Catalonia?” Discreet provocation towards those who know that he does not have a good answer. I hesitate for a few moments and out of friendship I resolve: “Jaume I the Conqueror.” Surprised reaction from our host. "Because?". Improvised: “He was the best monarch of the Crown of Aragon and the first to achieve the most difficult thing: royalty. I mean: he was a great statesman.”
It is not a confession of sympathy, but an attempt to recognize the facts. He has probably been the “rei don Jacme”, the Catalan with the most influence and international resonance and the first great organizer of the politics, institutions and, incidentally, the culture of the Catalan-speaking territories. Another thing is that the ambition for power and weapons sustained it. He was feared, but not hated. He waged war and expelled the Muslims, but he respected the Jews, stopped the acrid nobility and knew how to make agreements with Castile, France and the Pope. He coexisted with none other than Ferdinand the Saint, Alfonso X the Wise, Saint Louis of France and Pope Gregory X.
Ortega-Monasterio's cold expression, which continues: “And, secondly, what other great Catalan?” There is no doubt: “Ramon Llull”. Wise and inspirer of wise men. Everyone recognizes his rigor and lucidity. “Sure,” our diner agrees.
“And thirdly?” Answer: “Maybe Ildefons Cerdà.” The great engineer of the modern city and advanced ideas for his time. The next question catches us more off guard: “And Jordi Pujol?” We risk: “He will go down in history for the work done, very important. The rest will be remembered less.” The psychiatrist friend continues: “His ideology…?” It was a nationalism for a specific time and situation, without continuity anymore. After a silence, the author of An Essay on Evil starts with another song from Las Tunas: “From Santurce to Bilbao / I come along the entire shore…”
