In Granada, renowned Spanish playwright and poet Federico Garcia Lorca is everywhere and nowhere. The airport of the fabled pais is named after him. His residence is now a museum. His poetry and plays are kept and read in the grand universities and stages of Spain.

But the remains of Federico Garcia Lorca are nowhere. Like many of the 200,000 others killed during the fascist regime of Francisco Franco, he lies in an unmarked grave. 

Since Franco died of old age at 82, Spain has been grappling with its fascist, Falangist past. That period known as the “White Terror,” after all, lasted from 1939 up to 1975. 

Valley of the Fallen

Until 2019, Franco’s remains were interred at the Valle de los Caidos (Valley of the Fallen), a memorial for those who died in the Spanish civil war.  But in fact Franco did not. 

The 40,000 others who died in the civil war, Nationalist and Republicans combined, were laid in tombs outside of the valley’s Basilica. But the founder of the nationalist Falange movement, Jose Antonio Primo de Rivera, executed on Nov. 20, 1936, by the Republicans, was ordered buried by Franco in a crypt behind the altar. Then Franco was interred on the other side of the crypt.

Every Nov. 20, requiem masses for Franco and Primo de Rivera are offered in the Basilica and elsewhere, such as the Granada Cathedral, attended by Falangist followers. Primo de Rivera’s name remains etched on the outer stone wall of the Granada Cathedral. 

Spain’s 2007 Historical Memory Law now bans all political events in the Valley. But it was only in 2019 that Franco’s remains were exhumed and removed from the civil war memorial. Because Primo de Rivera died in the context of the civil war, his remains were retained in the Basilica.

Although the law provides for the erasure of all markings connected with Spain’s recent fascist past, removing the etched name on the Granada Cathedral would in turn violate its cultural protection law. The most that antifascist protesters can do is splatter it with red paint, which would then be scrubbed off.

Loyalist followers

Loyalist followers, oblivious of the history, continue to rally behind the rhetoric, symbolisms and ideology that promoted a united Spain. Loyalists continue to credit the former regime for economic improvements after World War II, not realizing that 30 more years in power of a single party could not but produce some economic gains, albeit at a huge cost to democratic politics and basic citizen rights. 

The Historical Memory Law, passed by the Socialist government of former prime minister Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero, also provides for assistance to victims, and to the tracing and identification of the missing or those buried in unmarked graves. It categorically condemns the Francoist state.

So far, the search for Federico Garcia Lorca’s body has led nowhere. Yet he is there and everywhere in Granada. He remains a symbol of those oppressed by political repression as well as sexual discrimination: As a young budding intellectual from Granada put it, he was killed extrajudicially for two alleged crimes—his political leanings and sexuality. 

Shaking off the fascist past truly takes time and effort. It will keep creeping back. Its narrative built and glorified over a long period in power sticks, and is further fortified by distortions of historical events. 

Marcos dictatorship

Here in the Philippines, 36 years after we overthrew Ferdinand Marcos’ dictatorship, the only law we have passed is the compensation law for victims of human rights violations during the Marcos regime. It is nothing close to Spain’s Historical Memory Law, albeit also viewed by critics as not enough.

Consequently, Marcos’ remains now lie at the Libingan ng mga Bayani. His heirs and other members of his family remain power holders—as senators, governors, members of the House of Representatives.  His son and namesake, Ferdinand Marcos Jr., is widely supported by traditional politicians in his current bid for the presidency. 

When a nation has not done enough to learn and grapple with its past, the past lies waiting on the sly, ready to resurrect itself.

Miriam Coronel Ferrer is a writer, a teacher of politics and mediation, and a peace advocate. —ED