In April 2024, taking the chance of a lull in investigation and teaching, I enjoyed a spring week in Barcelona. Tourists stream to the capital of Catalonia attracted by the old town’s celebrated Barri Gòtic (“Gothic Quarter”), Antoni Gaudí’s spectacular basilica Sagrada Família, the innovative National Museum of Art of Catalonia, and the vibrant and always crowded central street and walk called La Rambla. According to visitors and guides, the city has a large vibe and is full of excellent and different cafes and restaurants. Tourists love Barcelona to excess thanks to this energy and besides due to its neo-Gothic, art deco and modernist architecture, which is frequently idiosyncratic and unequalled elsewhere in the world.
This prime tourist destination could not be at responsibility in any corner. That is what I thought. But surprisingly, walking to and fro across the old town and central Barcelona for six full days, I did not place a single Ukrainian flag or any another sign of support for Ukraine. Catalonia is renowned for its attachment to democracy and progressive issues. Ukraine is fighting not only for its own endurance but besides for peace and protecting democracy in all of Europe. 1 would think that the causes merge perfectly.
Apparently, not so much. Despite Spain’s authoritative support for Ukraine, Catalonia’s sympathy seems to remainder with the aggressor state. Madrid eagerly advertises its substantial participation in all the EU support schemes for Ukraine. However, in absolute money terms, Spain provides less aid to Kyiv than the much smaller Estonia or Lithuania. On top of that, Madrid’s focus is on non-lethal aid, with barely a third of spending focused on materiel for the Ukrainian army. Barcelona leads the “irenic” way, following Pope Francis’s call for a “peace” in which Ukraine should submit to Moscow’s demands and Russian occupation. possibly what may be the issue is Russia’s propaganda in favour of Catalonia’s illegal independency referendum in 2017, alongside close contacts between any nationalists and the Kremlin. Now we know that Moscow pledged half a trillion US dollars to an independent Catalonia, alongside an army of 10,000 Russian mercenaries. From the Kremlin’s point of view, Stalin’s failure to establish a communist Spain in the late 1930s could now be ameliorated through wrenching Catalonia out of democratic Spain.
During my sojourn in Barcelona as an overactive flâneur, I came across just a single expression of pro-Ukrainian sentiment. In a narrow lane in the old town, a bilingual Catalan-Ukrainian paper strip was displayed at the top of a grocer’s entrance door, proclaiming “We [Catalans] stand together with the Ukrainian people!” Almost concealed in this secluded corner, this heart-felt appeal was as unobtrusive and hard to announcement as possible.
Banner in support of Ukraine at a grocer’s entrance door in Barcelona’s Old Town. Photo: Tomasz Kamusella
Cultural appropriation in support of Russian imperialism
Otherwise, sympathy for a resurgent and warmongering Russia is clear in Barcelona’s main shops and thoroughfares. On the very first day of my sojourn, as I frequently do, I paid a visit to a bookstore close the hotel. On the continent, city centres are full of these pleasing and elegant establishments that besides double as cafés, intellectual salons or art exhibition spaces. What is more, Catalonia is officially bilingual. Hence, bookshops tend to offer a 3rd of their stock in Catalan, with the remainder being made up of Spanish-language books. frequently planet classics and current bestsellers are paired in Catalan and Spanish translations on the display shelves.
Haruki Murakami’s latest fresh The City and Its Uncertain Wall in Catalan and Spanish translations. Photo: Tomasz Kamusella
In the renowned independent bookstore “Alibri” my eye was caught by a beautifully arranged section called Literatura Russa (“Russian Literature”) in Catalan and Spanish translations. At first, I hoped it would be followed by akin sections devoted to literatures in another languages, including Ukrainian. But, no, at least at that time it was the sole section of this kind devoted to any given literature. A young store assistant explained that the owner was enamoured with Russian literature. This is not a sin in itself but 1 would anticipate more empathy and knowing from specified a sophisticated bookshop in the context of the 3rd year of Russia’s ongoing genocidal and full war on Ukraine. She disagreed with my suggestion, opining that allowing the current events to dictate the offer of books on the display table would amount to giving in to “cancel culture”. That Russian literature was “too great” to be cancelled.
Russian literature section in Alibri. Photo: Tomasz Kamusella
Wary that the conversation could take an unpleasant turn, I sighed and cautioned that the unreflective acceptance of the Kremlin’s communicative was the first step toward dismantling democracy and instilling “unfreedom” in Europe. I added that having regained democracy half a century ago, especially young people in Spain should tread carefully to not fall back into the trap of authoritarianism. We agreed to disagree, and the store assistant took leave of me.
Meanwhile, I further scrutinized the Russian literature section. shortly enough, I found Ukrainian author Adrey Kurkov’s fresh Death and the Penguin in this section. Indeed, Kurkov writes in Russian. However, the Colombian author Gabriel García Márquez composed his books in Spanish, yet it did not make him into a Spanish author. Bookstores in Catalonia are very good at separating Spanish and Latin American authors. 1 would anticipate the same level of care with regards to Russian and Ukrainian writers, especially now in a time of war in which the Kremlin’s propaganda portrays the conflict as between “godly Russia” and the “decadent West”.
Ukrainian author Andrey Kurkov’s fresh Death and the Penguin in Spanish. Book cover from the publisher Blackie books.
The bookstore’s nonchalant approach to Ukraine and its literature amounts to cultural appropriation and the unthinking endorsement of Russian imperialism. This instance is an indication and benchmark of Russian propaganda’s success at suffusing the West with the Kremlin’s narrative. Part and parcel of this phenomenon is the West’s tendency to proceed to unreflectively subsume Ukrainian language and culture within their Russian counterparts. This practice is inactive rife despite the fact that in the ongoing war 1 of Moscow’s goals is the demolition of Ukraine, alongside the country’s language and culture. Hence, the western countries should know better.
Shockingly, the aforementioned Russian literature section in Alibri besides featured a Spanish translation of the Ukrainian author Serhiy Zhadan’s Ukrainian-language fresh Voroshilovgrad. In this “choice”, the bookshop full agreed with the Kremlin’s insistence that neither Ukraine nor the Ukrainian language exist. It is as though the Portuguese author José Saramago’s books composed in Portuguese were reclassified as “belonging to” Spanish language and literature.
Spanish translation of Ukrainian author Serhiy Zhadan’s fresh Voroshilovgrad. Book cover from Galaxia Gutenberg
The bookstore boasts a specialized section on linguistics and language study. It was another origin of surprises. 4 bookcases were devoted to the Spanish language and 2 to Catalan. On the shelf with “other languages” I found 1 textbook of Ukrainian and 2 children’s books in this language. On the another hand, Russian was given pride of place with 2 bookcases brimming with Russian-language textbooks and fiction. This was the same amount of space that was accorded to Catalonia’s native language of Catalan. What is more, while learning courses of a variety languages were squeezed onto a single noticeboard, Ruslandia – or the Academy of the Russian Language in Barcelona – was given its own prominent place. The store assistant accounted for this privileged treatment by emphasizing that many Catalans desire to learn Russian. I wonder whether there are more who want to get English.
Advertisement of Ruslandia, or the Academy of the Russian Language in Barcelona. Photo: Tomasz Kamusella
Russia’s continuing hybrid influence
Ruslandia was founded in 2010 and is simply a successful enterprise and brand. No information on Russia’s war on Ukraine features on the company’s website. That would be harmful to business. In 2022 the EU sanctioned the Kremlin’s pet instrument of cultural hybrid warfare, or the Russkiy Mir Foundation. Yet, its branch in Barcelona, or the Pushkin Institute of the Russian Language, operates unhindered. The institute simply dropped from its updated website any information that it belongs to this foundation and is financed by the Kremlin. Obviously, this website carefully does not voice any opinion on Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. It is baffling why to this day the Centro Nacional de Inteligencia (or Spain’s intelligence agency) has done nothing to curb this clear-cut breach of the EU’s sanctions and blatant implantation of Russian influence in Catalonia.
Entrance to the Russian home in Barcelona. Source: Google street view.
However, the most interesting case of insidious but subliminal Russian influence is seen in the Casa de Rusia (Russian House) in Barcelona. While walking in the old town, close the maritime embankment, I glanced at an architecturally appealing building from the 18th century. Event announcements in Cyrillic surely intrigued passers-by. Upon inspection it turned out that the information was given both in Catalan and Russian. But the institution’s name was the alternatively cryptic “CR”. The safety defender helpfully revealed the full name, or the Fundación Cultural CR (Cultural Foundation CR). My interest whetted, I went online and dug. The acronym CR (or sometimes CdR) stands for “Russian House”. seemingly the foundation’s name was abbreviated in the wake of Russia’s 2022 onslaught against Ukraine to not offend public opinion.
Russian home rebranded as CR in 2022. Screenshot from the institutions website casaderusia.es
After all, it was the Kremlin’s main money spinner, Gazprom, that financed the founding of Casa de Rusia in 2010. In 2016 this foundation became part of the Russkiy Mir network. 3 years later, the Russian home assumed another function as an authoritative representative of St Petersburg State University in Spain. In 2021 the foundation even positioned itself as the leading facilitator of attracting even more Russian tourists to Barcelona, whose number increased from half a million in 2016 to 0.8 million in 2019.
The Casa de Rusia and its multiplying links with Russia’s elite and top institutions flourished under the watch of CEO Anna Silyunas. She assumed the post in 2018. Silyunas’s position in and access to Russia’s governing structures was possibly ensured by her erstwhile husband, the Russian oligarch Konstantin Ernst. He is the Kremlin’s favoured media and propaganda profiler. Not surprisingly, due to his pivotal function in Russia’s war on Ukraine, Ernst found itself buried under a pile of western sanctions. Apparently, the Russian home was besides instrumental in forging operative links between the Catalonian nationalists and the Kremlin.
In early March 2022, due to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the Russian home suspended its activities. However, the foundation did not condemn this attack and carefully avoided utilizing the word “war”, giving preference to the Kremlin’s approved expression “military operation”. After all, Gazprom’s money pays their salaries. Instead, the foundation began fighting against the infrequent anti-war protests, which the Russian home chose to brand as “Russophobic” in line with the Kremlin’s rhetoric. Somehow, the tragic destiny of the Ukrainians under Moscow’s relentless attack and the acts of genocide perpetrated by the Russian military in Bucha or Mariupol failed to registry in Catalonia.
On this wave of not-so-tacit pro-Russian sentiment, Foundation CR resumed its activities already in autumn 2022. Walking past the foundation’s building, I noticed they had an event open to the general public. It showcased the writings of the young Russian fantasy author Anna Starobinets. In March 2022, the author had condemned Russia’s war on Ukraine, left Russia and subsequently settled in Georgia. Yet, by coming to the Russian home in Barcelona, Starobinets someway overlooked the institution’s links to Gazprom and the Kremlin. It was as if the war was not a origin of her own family’s grief and forced emigration.
The event was well attended by 50 or so participants. The authoritative bilingual announcement promised consecutive translation to Catalan. But it was just a front to make the unpalatable situation acceptable to the Catalonian public at large. The Russian home de facto functions as a Russian social club. No mention of war marred the pleasant atmosphere. No 1 voiced any support for Ukraine. No Ukrainian flags or symbols were on display, and neither their Russian counterparts. Yet, the second-floor lecture hall, where the event took place, featured on its door a large photograph of the Kremlin entrance gate topped with Russia’s double-headed eagle.
In Barcelona, Russians feel like they are at home. On the 1 hand, they enjoy western values and opportunities, which are banned and criminalized in Russia. On the other, no 1 bothers them about the “trifling substance of any war” in Ukraine, with which they have nothing to do, as the typical remark goes. A young man and father who participated in this pleasant event with his family, flabbergasted by my surprise, explained in plain English that Barcelona is “Russian-friendly”. Indeed, the deficiency of reaction on Madrid and Catalonia’s part to Moscow’s creeping hybrid influence may be interpreted as Spain siding with the Kremlin in its genocidal and full war on Ukraine. It is as though, in a fit of absentmindedness, a western country was facilitating Moscow’s imperial efforts to sow discord in Europe and destruct democratic Ukraine.
Tomasz Kamusella is Reader (Professor Extraordinarius) in Modern Central and east European past at the University of St Andrews in Scotland. His fresh monographs include Ethnic Cleansing during the Cold War (Routledge 2018), Politics and the Slavic Languages (Routledge 2021) and Eurasian Empires as Blueprints for Ethiopia (Routledge 2021). His mention Words in Space and Time: A Historical Atlas of Language Politics in Modern Central Europe is available as an open access publication.
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