All Together Now

National anthems. Musical patriotism, eyes-bulging rugby players belting them out and pumping themselves up or footballers mumbling embarrassedly, searching for words they don’t know. In the case of Spanish footballers, there is good reason. There are no official words to the national anthem, so Torres and the rest just hum the tune. They were talking about all this on Five Live yesterday. Seemingly, there is a drive to get some official words, but that’s where the problem starts. The Spanish anthem is known as the “marcha real” - royal march. As a result, this doesn’t sit that well with certain areas of Spain and certain groups, notably the Catalonians and the Basques. So try getting an anthem that satisfies all these disparate factions and tie it up with the royal tag. Not easy. This all comes at a difficult time for the Spanish royal family. The Catalonians are getting uppity again, a certain ire being directed at the royals, the Basques want independence, there is a case involving a cartoonist who poked fun at Felipe and Letizia (for which there could be a jail sentence; you cannot take the rip out of the Spanish royals). Juan-Carlos retains a lot of support; he is still remembered for his role in quelling the 1981 coup attempt, but the rest of the family - tricky. A bit like the Windsors, I guess.

To compound the problem, most of the regions of Spain have their own anthems, with certain exceptions, e.g. the Balearics. The semi-federalism of Spain does not lend itself easily to unified symbols of nationhood. The Germans manage it well enough, but the history of “Über Alles” is strong. Imposing an anthem seems artificial. Anthems need some substance, which only history truly lends them. And in an era of localisation and regional autonomy, as one has in Spain, it seems an almost impossible task. Maybe they should just let the footballers carry on humming; they’ll never remember the words anyway.


The localisation of politics in Spain does have one big thing going for it, in that it brings politics that much closer to the people. Simon Jenkins in “The Sunday Times” at the weekend observed that the smallest unit of democratic administration in Britain covers an average 118,000 people. He contrasted this with similar units in France, Germany and the USA. Here in Mallorca, Alcúdia, for instance, has a registered population of just over 16,000, Pollensa similar, Muro nearly 7,000, Santa Margalida a bit more than 10,000. Even these are quite large compared to, say, the smallest French communes, but they are manageable. Each municipality has its own mayor, and these mayors are highly visible. Go to Café La Sala in Alcúdia and it is quite possible that Miquel Ferrer will be having a coffee.

Whether one supports or not these mayors or other politicians or indeed whether one even likes them or not is not the point. Localisation of politics aids sense of community, something that Mallorca has in spades. And one hears all too often that, in Britain, community is dead, but, there again, Britain is a centralised political entity.


QUIZ
Top of the class for Anne Marie who got both Right Said Fred and Massive Attack. Today’s title - it is a kind of an anthem anyway (with strong football links). Who? And don’t say The Beatles.

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