Since the beginning of the twenty-first century, Spain has experienced a cycle of
exhumations of the mass graves of the Spanish Civil War (1936–39) and has rediscovered
that the largest mass grave of the state is the monument that glorifies the Franco regime:
the Valley of the Fallen. Building work in the Sierra de Guadarrama, near Madrid, was
begun in 1940 and was not completed until 1958. This article analyses for the first time
the regimes wish, from the start of the works, for the construction of the Valley of the
Fallen to outdo the monument of El Escorial. At the same time the regime sought to create
a new location to sanctify the dictatorship through the vast transfer to its crypts of the
remains of the dead of the opposing sides of the war.
of active resistance. In the next passage (from which the chapter’s epigraph is taken),
this return is presented in symbolic terms as breaking the silence imposed
on the vanquished by the Francoregime:
When an ikurriña was thrown, at the town ﬁesta, well [laughter] there was
an apotheosis. You revolutionised people. You revolutionised them with
grafﬁti . . . You have to live through it . . . suddenly you’ve been silent for
forty years . . . these things . . . even get forgotten. It’s as if a son were
buried, the prodigal son, and he reappears. You know he’s there
common among women
whose partners or male relatives had been killed, imprisoned or exiled.
Yet, whether the narrators embraced feminism as a political project or
not, their interpretations of their life histories and their roles in the
radical nationalist movement were fundamentally shaped by an awareness of the changes in gender roles and relations from their youth during
the Francoregime to the time of the interviews thirty or forty years later.
They made frequent references to the lack of feminist consciousness in
the 1960s and 1970s as compared to the 1990s
similarity between these two forms of Catholic and nationalist motherhood, and of gender relations generally, undermines any simplistic view
of Basque families as spaces that were ‘protected’ from the Franco state,
or that represented unequivocal resistance to Francoism. In the area of
gender relations in particular, middle-class Basque nationalist families to
a large extent followed, rather than challenged, dominant ideology. This
is not to say that Basque women from nationalist families supported the
Francoregime any more than men did, or that they did not feel the
rest of Spain, the sexual politics of the Francoregime. As Frances Lannon writes of the Church’s
reforms in the 1960s:
[T]he Church was able to be much more radical in politics and questions
of social justice, that primarily challenged the state and interest groups in
Spanish society, than in matters concerning lay life and sexuality which
threatened more nearly its own internal organization and values.11
The preservation of Basque tradition had long been associated with
enforcing gender norms. During the early years of the Second Republic,
when Church leaders all
Madrid, where many female political prisoners were
held during the ﬁnal years of the Francoregime:
It was really hard for us . . . The lawyers seldom came to see us. It was
obvious that we were girls. And . . . in the beginning I was alone, completely alone in prison, there wasn’t a single Basque prisoner. I was alone
for a long time. But later there were people from the PCE, from the
Communist Party. And then people from ETA came in, with lighter sentences than us . . . At some point I was with groups of ﬁfteen Basque prisoners. They [the lawyers] came, but very
Spanish rhetorics of empire from the 1950s to the 1970s
simplified and manipulative appropriation of
lusotropicalism and stressed the harmony of Portugal’s presence
in Africa. One of the strategies for adapting to the growing
anti-colonial tide was the rebranding of the colonies as overseas
provinces (1951). In this renewed discourse, Portugal was again
presented as an indivisible, multi-continental nation. 6 The Spanish Francoregime
followed the Portuguese
Contextualising colonial and post-colonial nursing
Helen Sweet and Sue Hawkins
. García-Paramio, ‘Nurses
for a new fatherland: gender and ideology in the health policies of the early
Francoregime in Spain (1938–1942)’, Women’s History Magazine, 68 (2012),
33–41 and A. Peters, ‘Nanna Conti: the Nazis’ Reichshebammenfuehrerin
(1841–1951)’, Women’s History Magazine, 65 (2011), 33–41.
37 A. Hardy and E. M. Tansy, ‘Medical enterprise and global response,
1945–2000’, in W. F. Bynum, A. Hardy, S. Jacyna, C. Lawrence and E. M.
Tansy, The Western Medical Tradition 1800 to 2000 (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2006), p. 519.
38 M. Vaughan, Curing Their Ills
Nursing and medical records in the Imperial War in Ethiopia (1935–36)
Anna La Torre, Giancarlo Celeri Bellotti, and Cecilia Sironi
Ispettorato Superiore Generale Servizi Militari, L’organizzazione sanitaria e la
salute delle truppe, X.
19 Ispettorato Superiore Generale Servizi Militari, L’organizzazione sanitaria e la
salute delle truppe, XI.
20 Ispettorato Superiore Generale Servizi Militari, L’organizzazione sanitaria e la
salute delle truppe, XI.
21 M. E. Galiana-Sanchez, J. Bernabeu-Mestre and P. García-Paramio, ‘Nurses for
a new fatherland: gender and ideology in the health policies of the early Francoregime in Spain (1938–1942)’, Women’s History Magazine, 68 (2012), 33–41.
22 Grace Baxter
. Campos Pérez, ‘Representing the enemy. The iconography of the other in history schoolbooks during the first years of Franco's regime’, Contributions to the History of Concepts , 5 (2009), 140–61, here 141–2.
en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/enemy (accessed 27 March 2019).