During the Zortziak Bat symposium, the current Lehendakari – or President – of the Basque Country (specifically the Basque Autonomous Community), Imanol Pradales Gil, gave a speech which emphasized not only the shared connections between the Basque Country and the Basque diaspora in the United States, but went further to call on our shared values to strengthen those connections. He was seen all over Boise, participating in numerous activities as part of Jaialdi. He was eloquent, intelligent, charismatic and made a strong case for stronger ties between the diaspora and the Basque Country.
Lehendakari Imanol Pradales Gil giving a speech at the Zortziak Bat symposium during Jaialdi week in Boise.
Imanol Pradales Gil was born in Santurtzi, Bizkaia, on April 25, 1975. While both of his parents were born in the Basque Country, they do not have Basque ancestry – Pradales Gil has discussed how his eight surnames are all Castilian. In fact, his ancestors immigrated to the Basque Country from other parts of Spain in the early 1900s. However, both of his parents became involved in Basque national politics, joining the Basque Nationalist Party shortly after he was born.
Pradales Gil didn’t learn Euskara at home, but attended ikastolas as a child and learned the language fluently. As part of his government, he has advocated for the regular, daily use of Euskara in life. To this end, he has announced the Congress for the Revitalization of the Use of Basque, to start in 2027.
Before entering politics in 2007, he was a professor at the University of Deusto. He had earned his doctorate in Sociology and Political Science in 2004. In his speech in Boise, he emphasized his academic roots and the importance of education.
His first foray into politics was an essay that Iñigo Urkullu, soon-to-be Lehendakari and a former professor of Pradales Gil, asked him to write on employment and competitiveness. In 2007, Pradales Gil formally entered politics by becoming CEO of what would become Bizkaia Talent.
From 2011 to 2024, Pradales Gil served in the Foral Council of Bizkaia, holding various unelected positions. In 2023, he was selected as the Basque Nationalist Party’s candidate for Lehendakari to replace incumbent Lehendakari Iñigo Urkullu, his former professor and mentor. While is party received the most votes in the election, they got an equal number of seats as EH Bildu. A coalition between the PNV (the Basque Nationalist Party) and PSE–EE, the Spanish Socialist party, led to Pradales Gil being sworn in as Lehendakari on June 24, 2024.
Building on his past experience, a key aspect of Pradales Gil’s government is the recruitment and retention of talent. Several initiatives to attract and retain new and existing talent to the Basque Country have been proposed, along with the creation of a network of professionals.
A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.
In researching my “Basque Facts of the Week,” I rely pretty heavily on Google Translate. While I can get the gist of an article written in Spanish, the details often elude me. And the situation for Euskara is even worse – while I have a rudimentary understanding of the language, I certainly can’t understand a typical Wikipedia entry. Tools like Google Translate open up a new world that I can explore as so many things related to the Basque people, culture, and history are simply not available in English.
Google Translate and tools like it are powered by artificial intelligence – AI – algorithms. And language tools like these are proving reasonably successful for majority languages like English where there is a huge body of work to draw upon. After all, at their core, these algorithms are “simply” recognizing patterns and the more data you have, or examples of a language, the better you can recognize those patterns. However, for minority languages such as Euskara, the situation isn’t nearly as strong.
Forbes has a nice article on the various activities going on in the Basque Country to improve the utility of these types of tools for Euskara. For example, Vicomtech, a research foundation headquartered in Bilbo, has developed their own Euskara translation tool called Itzuli. Euskorpora, another nonprofit, is developing a high-quality collection of Euskara samples, called the Basque Language Digital Corpus. This is to provide the best quality database for training tools like Itzuli. (Incidentally, the article also gives a nice snapshot of the current health of Euskara – I recommend reading it.)
Why are such tools important? As one example, television programs can be automatically transcribed so as to capture the content for other types of media or, for example, those who are hearing impaired. In principle, they could be automatically translated as well, effectively dubbing foreign language content in real time. When representatives sit at the European Parliament, these types of tools can translate speeches and comments from some arbitrary language to Euskara, allowing those representatives to participate in their native language. All of this goes toward helping to ensure the vitality of the language.
AI is certainly a controversial topic. It has the power to transform our lives, to automate tasks that are tedious for humans or to recognize patterns in seas of data that are hard for humans to pull out. In my own field of materials science, we use these algorithms to discover new materials and to understand the factors that impact the performance of a material. The dream is to ask the computer to create a material that would have the properties needed for a given application. However, at the same time, it threatens some areas of human endeavor. By mining the collective human output of writing and art, for example, it can be used to generate images and texts seemingly out of nowhere, but really from that reservoir of human creativity. While it opens the door to the masses to be able to generate such content, it threatens those who really push the frontiers of art and literature. Again, in my own field, it does seem that AI is threatening to take away from fundamental understanding, replacing it with simple pattern recognition.
Image created by Buber using ChatGPT.
However, I do wonder if AI will in the end be a possible boon for the survival of minority languages like Euskara. When I first went to the Basque Country and told my dad and grandpa, both of whom spoke Basque as their first language, that I wanted to learn Euskara, they both wondered why, as Spanish would be much more useful in the world – so many more people speak Spanish, wouldn’t that, pragmatically, be better to learn? I tried to tell them that it wasn’t because of the utility that I wanted to learn Basque, and while I think they both were somewhat pleased that I took this interest in their mother tongues, the utilitarianism in them still thought it was not the smartest thing to do. Learn a language that is useful, not one only a few people speak.
With AI and the advent of automatic translation services, I don’t have to care what language might be most useful, but rather which languages might be most interesting. I can afford to learn that minority language that only a “few” people speak instead of some less interesting (to me) language that is more “useful.” I don’t have to choose between utility and personal interest. Basque is fascinating to so many people because it is unique. If I don’t have to worry about communicating with people in Spanish or English or Chinese, I can learn a language simply because I want to.
On the flip side, a native Basque speaker wouldn’t have to be so concerned with learning a more global language to get by in the world. In the scientific world, the lingua franca is English. I’m lucky to have English as my first language as it makes writing about and presenting my work that much easier, but it is certainly an extra hurdle for those that don’t speak English as their first language or at all. Automatic translation tools, if they were mature enough, would enable people to work in whatever language they wanted, whatever language they grew up with, and still communicate with the rest of the world. You could imagine a time when someone could write a scientific paper in Euskara and I would be able to understand it completely with the help of these types of tools. They wouldn’t suffer because they chose to write in their minority language – they would still get their results out to the rest of the world.
Would this help with the survival of the language? It seems to me it should. If you didn’t have to learn a second language just to communicate with the rest of the world, if you didn’t have to live your professional life in another language, if you didn’t have to learn a lingua franca just because you needed it, you could live your life completely in your preferred language. You wouldn’t have to choose. Every aspect of your life could be lived in Euskara and you wouldn’t ever have to have a second language to function. Think of the Babel Fish in Douglas Adams‘ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Everyone is able to communicate with everyone regardless of what language they are communicating in. A people’s collective effort could be completely done in their own language, they wouldn’t have to trade time with another language, devoting precious resources to a second language that detracts from the health of their first language.
This of course comes with some drawbacks. Americans are already criticized for typically only knowing one language. This criticism often originates from the idea that only knowing your mother tongue indicates you are less worldly, that you haven’t explored other cultures, that you have a narrow world view. There is a hypothesis – linguistic relativity – that says how we think is defined by the language we think in. If you think in different languages, you naturally see things in different ways. If all of us only ever thought and spoke in one language, whatever it might be, perhaps our ability to understand one another at a more fundamental level would be lost.
However, it seems that the benefit for minority languages would outweigh this consideration. As a speaker of a majority language where I live, I never have to choose how to express myself. But a minority language speaker always does. Should I write in Basque to do my part in boosting the language, or should I write in Spanish or English so that the greatest number of people can understand me? I never have to make this choice, but speakers of minority languages like Basque have to all the time. If we had robust and fast translation tools, those people could write in Basque but I’d still be able to understand what they wrote. I’m sure some nuance would be lost, but I would get the majority of the meaning.
Image created by Buber using ChatGPT.
Recent history has pointed to the development of multiple lingua francas, a consolidation of the number of languages spoken around the world. This certainly aids in communication, but it comes at the cost of linguistic and – if you believe the hypothesis of linguistic relativity – intellectual richness. AI tools may reverse this trend, making it unnecessary to have a lingua franca at all, allowing us all to communicate with whomever we choose without giving up our own language.
In the end, all new technologies come with both pros and cons and AI is no different. Whether AI based tools ultimately help minority languages like Euskara survive or not is unclear. I can certainly see that they might help, but whether they do or not likely depends on how they are implemented and used. However, giving minority language speakers the ability to conduct all aspects of their life in their native language certainly does seem like a positive.
One of the best parts of Jaialdi was the music. There were groups wandering the Basque block playing music, more organized acts on the main stage in the middle of the street, and the concert in the arena. Everywhere, people were dancing and singing. One of the bands that played both on the street stage and later in the concert in the arena was Gatibu. I got to see them once when I went to Euskadi in 2006 – they played the fiesta in Aulesti. It was great to rediscover them – their music was infectious and easy to dance to. Highly recommended!
Gatibu playing at the Idaho Central Arena during Jaialdi 2025. Photo by Blas Uberuaga.
Gatibu, which means captive in Basque, hails from Gernika-Lumo. They formed in 2000 with Alex Sardui, the front man, and guitarist Haimar Arejita as the original nucleus of the band. The two had collaborated before on a folk album and that collaboration led to Gatibu. They completed the quartet with Mikel Caballero (bass) and Gaizka Salazar on drums. Caballero died in 2024, a few years after leaving Gatibu.
A fun side note – Haimar’s mother is from Munitibar, the same town my dad was from (thanks Pedro for that piece of trivia).
They released their first album in 2002. Entitled Zoramena, it received critical acclaim and was a huge hit in the Basque Country. One of the songs on Zoramena, “Musturrek Sartunde,” received an award for best song of the year.
Over the years, Gatibu has released 10 albums and many of their songs have become classics. In Boise, everyone around us was singing along to their most popular songs, including “Bang-bang txik-txiki bang-bang,”, “Zeu, zeu, zeu!,” “Pailazo,” and “Eztanda egin arte.”
Gatibu is known for singing in the Bizkaian dialect, particularly the Busturialdean variant. Describing their style, their website says “Their musical style is basically colorful rock sung in the Biscayan dialect, full of melody and lively. A broad music that has escaped from artistic complexes, which is created by soaking the power of rock with the melody of pop, plus friendship and everyday themes centered on emotions or moods. But although the trunk is rock and pop, it also waters the leaves that the branches that emerge from it give; folk, country and some danceable disco/funky rhythms also adhere naturally throughout the repertoire.”
As stated on their website, “Gatibu looks at the world through the lens of music, addresses music through the lens of rock and roll, looks to the future through the lens of culture, sings to its compatriots through the lens of Basque. What worries us? What do we want to change? Well, let’s go, let’s move, let’s change, the revolution must be joyful, let joy cause tears. Think, dance, feel, dance, move, dance, don’t stand still, free yourself from fear.”
Gatibu is also known for their extensive touring. In 2009, in support of their album Laino Guztien Gainetik, Sasi Guztien Azpitik, they performed 50 concerts all over the Basque Country. In 2012, they performed for the first time outside of the Basque Country, in Barcelona and Ireland.
This year marks 25 years since Gatibu first got together. It is also the year of their farewell tour. They will give their last performance on December 13, 2025, in Barakaldo.
A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.
Primary sources: Gatibuk 2025eko abenduan emango dio amaiera 25 urteko ibilbideari, kontzertu erraldoi batekin by Iñigo Astiz, Berria; Gatibu; Gatibu, Wikipedia
Forty years ago, the most horrific airline disaster to ever occur in the Basque Country happened just outside of my dad’s hometown of Munitibar. Even today, the crash is imprinted on the collective minds of the local Basques – more than once it has come up in conversation when I’ve visited the Basque Country. While Oiz is known for its spectacular views, it also has this dark cloud associated with it.
A graphic illustrating the crash of Iberia Flight 610 with an antenna on the peak of Mount Oiz. Graphic from El Diario Vasco.
On February 19, 1985, a flight from Madrid to Bilbao crashed in the mountains outside of my dad’s hometown of Munitibar. All of the people on board – 141 passengers and 7 crew – died in the crash. It is the worst airline disaster in the history of the Basque Country.
The plane crashed because its wing clipped a television antenna on the top of Mount Oiz. Authorities concluded that the autopilot had failed to engage and that an alarm indicating too low of an altitude went off, but the pilots misinterpreted the alarm and dropped even lower, low enough to hit the antenna on the peak of the mountain. Thick fog which limited visibility to 2.5 miles also contributed to the crash. Yet another factor was the altimeter design, which was hard to read. And another factor was that the TV antenna had not been on the navigation maps and was too tall for safety.
The left wing of the plane was completely sheared off because of the impact. The plane rolled to the left and crashed into the trees covering the area. Trees were cut down in a path of more than half a mile before the plane landed in a ravine where it continued to skid before blowing up.
As can be imagined, the recovery was challenging. Debris spread over a radius of almost 2 miles in the rugged terrain of the Basque mountains. There were no survivors and several bodies were impossible to identify.
One of the consequences of the crash is that all altimeters were changed in all Spanish planes. The United States had already made such a change due to the penchant for pilots to misread it. While investigators ultimately said the crash was due to pilot error, many people didn’t accept that conclusion, even blaming ETA for bringing the plane down.
Even as late as 2021, human remains were found on the crash site, which prompted requests to completely clear the site of all vestiges of the wreck. Further, efforts to create a memorial to those lost were also put in motion.
A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.
Basque names have a way of jumping out at you. I was recently attending a workshop at the SLAC National Accelerator Laboratory, situated on the Stanford University campus, when someone mentioned the Arrillaga rec center. “Arrillaga?” I thought to myself. “Has to be Basque.” Sure enough, John Arrillaga, one of Stanford’s biggest supporters ever, was of Basque ancestry. His story starts off familiarly enough – humble beginnings as the grandson of Basque immigrants. However, he found opportunities to become one of the wealthiest people in the United States.
The Arrillaga Science Center, on the campus of the SLAC National Accelerator Laboratory. Photo of John Arrillaga from the Stanford Report.
John Arrillaga was born on April 3, 1937, in Inglewood, California. His mother, Freda, who was originally from England, had been a nurse while his father, Gabriel, worked in a market. Gabriel traced his ancestry to the Basque Country. John’s grandparents Gabriel Arrillaga and Magdalena Acarregui were both born in the Basque Country, though I haven’t been able to find out where exactly.
John came from humble beginnings. When he graduated from high school, he had to borrow a suit jacket from his chemistry teacher. However, he was a talented basketball player and went to Stanford University on a basketball scholarship. He graduated from Stanford with a degree in geology, but that wasn’t the end of his basketball career. He played for both the Bilbao Águilas – a chance to explore his Basque roots – and the then San Francisco Warriors in the NBA.
In the 1960s, Arrillaga began his career in real estate, buying farmland with his partner Richard Peery that they converted into office space. This was at the time when the semiconductor industry was starting to take off and Arrillaga and Peery were a huge part of the development and growth of Silicon Valley, providing the rising tech companies with needed space. Together, they were one of the biggest landlords in the area and in 2020, Arrillaga was listed in the top 400 of Forbes richest Americans, with a net worth of $2.5 billion.
Arrillaga gave back to his university, Stanford, in numerous ways, contributing to the construction of multiple buildings, including housing for graduate students and rebuilding the football stadium. He also endowed more than 50 scholarships – notable recipients of his scholarships include Tiger Woods, Katie Ledecky, and Christian McCaffrey. He made two donations to the university in excess of $100 million each. As a result, his name has become a fixture around the campus. The Arrillaga Science Center is just one of many buildings that bears his name.
Arrillaga died on January 24, 2022. His legacy continues on with his children, Laura and John, who continue his life of philanthropy.
A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.
