Few and far between are the “popular” books on the Basque Country that give an overview of the people, the land, and the culture of Euskal Herria. The Basque Histroy of the World, by Mark Kurlansky, is probably the most well-known. Now, Paddy Woodworth, author of Dirty Wars, Clean Hands: ETA, the GAL, and Spanish Democracy (an excellent book, by the way, that I highly recommend), enters into this area with his The Basque Country: A Cultural History.
We read The Basque Country as part of the book club my wife, Lisa, has organized for our Basque club, the New Mexico Euskal Etxea. It has been a long time since I read Kurlansky’s book, so I may misremember some of the details.
For the most part, I really enjoyed The Basque Country. I think Woodworth took a fairly balanced view of the Basque Country, looking past the “glossy” surface of things and examining the “nitty-gritty” if you will, the politics that infuse everything that is Basque. At times, I think he went a bit too far. Especially in the first half of the book, it felt like he couldn’t say anything positive about the Basques without a corresponding negative spin. FOr me, this was epitomized by his comments on the company AZTI, which is trying to respond to, for example, declines in fish populations due to overfishing and finding alternatives for the future. They have developed an unmanned drone to scour the seas and find schools of fish. Woodworth couldn’t leave it at that, and essentially chastises the company for developing what could become a tool of war. This seemed too much to me, especially after all the negative spin he had done before.
Woodworth is definitely not a friend of the nationalists. His most negative comments are often reserved for them and their policies. He criticizes them for using the traditional symbols of the Basque people — the basseri, the dancing, the music — for political purposes, for not letting the country evolve past those symbols, for keeping the country stuck in the past in some sense. This is an interesting dichotomy in the Basque Country. The image of the country is strongly tied to these traditional images, but the Basque Country is nothing if not dynamic, always pushing their resources to be at the leading edge of industry and technology. In the past, this was exemplified by their mining and steel production, which lead to some of the modern conflict between traditional Basque culture and a more modern, urban populace, as many of the people who worked in the mining industry were immigrants from other parts of Spain. Today, the Basques are at the forefront of several more modern technologies in the information technology areas. It will be interesting to see how these efforts further modify the Basque cultural landscape.
Even if Woodworth was negative towards nationalist policies, I still felt he was more balanced than Kurlansky’s effort. Reality may lie somehwere between the two, and a more balanced perspective might be found by reading both books and “averaging” what the two authors say. Kurlansky definitely glorifies Basque traditions much more than Woodworth, though Woodworth finds his most exhuberant descriptions of the Basques when he is in the small villages experiencing traditional festivals.
And, Woodworth is not immune to the mystique of the traditional Basque life. Much of his book is spent wandering the villages of Nafarroa and Iparralde, describing their history and their ancient traditions. While this gives a nice introduction of some lesser seen parts of Euskal Herria, at the same time I felt that what I might call the “modern” Basque Country, the intersection between the urban and rural, the modern and traditional, was neglected as a result. The traditional values and practices are certainly an important part of the Basque Country and its identity. However, in my mind, it will be how those traditions are incorporated into a modern and vibrant country that will determine the future of the country. If the Basque Country is to become a modern nation where Euskara can thrive in a modern setting, the language and traditions can’t be relegated to the rural, traditional villages. It has to become part of the urban setting, has to be a language in which science, politics, and technology can be discussed. In that sense, I would have preferred to see more of that intersection between modern and traditional. That is, in my opinion, where the real struggle for the future of the language and the cultural will occur.
I am definitely interested in what you thought about the book. Did you feel differently? Did you love or hate the book? Please share your thoughts with the rest of us.
It was one of the most horrific events in modern warfare. During the Spanish Civil War, at the behest of Franco, the German Luftwaffe bombed the Basque town of Gernika, on a Monday, the traditional market day for the town. They also bombed Durango and, I have read, the town where my dad is from, Gerrikaitz (though I have not found any details about that). Gernika was one of the first examples of aerial bombardment of a city to provoke terror in its citizens. Since then, there have been many other examples. See 
There seem to be two camps in linguistic circles on the role language has in shaping how we think. I’ve read a number of books by Stephen Pinker, who is of the opinion that the particular language we speak doesn’t shape how we think, that there is a meta-language underneath, common to all of us, that really determines how we think. (I hope I’m interpreting this right, as it is a complex subject and I’m a novice.)
Two more points about Euskara that I wanted to mention.
In 1991, I went to Euskal Herria to learn Euskara. My dad is from Munitibar, and my mom’s grandparents were from Leikeitio (her grandma) and Mutiloa (her grandpa). While of course my dad was fluent in Euskara, my mom hadn’t had the opportunity to learn. Her dad, while born and raised in Oregon, also knew Euskara though he had never visited the land of his parents. Long story short, I didn’t learn any Euskara as a kid, so I thought to go to Euskal Herria and see what I could learn.
Nothing beats a good hard cider. My understanding is that, before the invention of refridgeration and the ability to import from long distances, the Basques made their alcohol out of what they had at hand, apples. There is a lot of mystique surrounding the sagardotegiak, the places where sagardoa — hard cider — is made. For example, it is said that the txalaparta — the Basque percussion instrument comprised of a few wooden planks on which two players beat out rhythms — was originally used to announce that the current batch of sagardoa was ready for drinking from one valley to the next. The sagardotegi itself is a very special place. I visited one just outside of Donostia in 1992. We all stood at a bar-like table, where we were served steak cut up into bite-sized pieces, among other things. Every once in a while, someone would shout out a call, and everyone would get in line in front of one of the humongous wooden barrels. The tap is opened and a stream of cider flows out. One by one, we went up to the barrel and held our glass under the stream to get a frothy serving of cider. This happened several times during the night. The stuff is a bit bitter, it isn’t sweet at all, not like the typical “apple cider” most Americans would think of. It is definitely an acquired taste, but one that is definitely worth acquiring.
Another Basque specialty is txakoli, a white, dry wine with a distinct taste. Unfortunately, while I’ve definitely partaken of txakoli, I never did acquire a taste for wine in general or txakoli in particular. So, I am not someone to comment on the uniqueness and intricacies of txakoli. So, instead, I’ll just point you to a few relevant links. 
Ahizpak. Sisters. Clearly a good description of Izar and Maite, two sisters who are immensely talented artists. Ahizpak is also the name of their joint studio, in which they showcase their work. Including sculpture, paintings, carvings, jewelry and more, they take their inspiration from their Basque heritage, incorporating Basque motifs such as the lauburu, Euskara, and dance. You will find them at any Basque gathering in Boise or the surrounding areas. You will also find their work at other events, contributing pieces for fundraisers for local businesses, such as the Basque Christmas tree they did for a hostipal in Boise.
I only met him a few times, in Seattle, in Boise, in Homedale, but he made a lasting impression. Always with a smile and with his txistu at hand, Aita Martxel Tillous always added something special to any Basque gathering, even if it was a bunch of northwesterners gathered in a hay barn, doing their best to recreate something of the Basque Country in the countryside outside of Seattle. All who met him always remembered him.
