A wonderful book full of the stink and horror of war. The accounts of the Republic's assaults on the Falange, save for one instance, are pitiful and sickening. Descriptions, too, of Madrid during the conflict the likes of which I have not come across anywhere else. Exquisite and appalling. Read concurrently with Hugh Thomas' The Spanish Civil War.

First read 2007

If this was history it did not feel like it... instead of being heroic one just had to stay at one's post, bored, dropping with sleep and completely uninterested as to what it was all about.

Orwell's straightforward style makes this memoir a particularly convincing indictment of the stupidity and senselessness of trench warfare. Soldiers huddle cold and hungry in filthy holes in the ground, occasionally taking a pot shot at a bunch of other soldiers who would be their neighbours, co-workers and drinking buddies at any other time. The anti-Fascist factions on whose (increasingly in-fighting) side Orwell fought even exploited this absurdity in the trenches in their tactic of 'war by megaphone', shouting messages of class-solidarity across no man's land (and occasionally lies about how well fed the anti-Fascist troops were). This strategy proved far more effective than ancient rifles; both sides are woefully ill-equipped.

The genuine classlessness, the absence of hierarchies among the soldiers at the front, impressed Orwell, and he debunks the myth that this led to a lack of organisation, pointing out that discipline enforced by fear is inferior to that based on genuine loyalty, and noting that orders were always followed, though sometimes after argument! It's depressing that the atmosphere of comradeship does not survive in Barcelona and when Orwell's faction is suppressed by the Communists he is suddenly, ridiculously, in grave danger. The political changes in Catalonia are neatly summed up by the matter of dress:

at the frontier the Anarchist guards had turned back a smartly-dressed Frenchman and his wife, solely - I think - because they looked too bourgeois. Now it was the other way about; to look bourgeois was the only salvation

My particular interest in inter-war writing as documentation of a vanished world and unrecoverable (un)consciousness finds rich food in Orwell's closing paragraph:

And then England - southern England, probably the sleekest landscape in the world. It is difficult when you pass that way, especially when you are peacefully recovering from seasickness with the plush cushions of a boat-train underneath you, to believe that anything is really happening anywhere. Earthquakes in Japan, famines in China, revolutions in Mexico? Don't worry, the milk will still be on the doorstep tomorrow morning, the New Statesman will come out on Friday. The industrial towns were far away, a smudge of smoke and misery hidden by the curve of the Earth's surface. Down here it was still the England I had known in my childhood: the railway cuttings smothered in wild flowers, the deep meadows where the great shining horses browse and meditate; the slow-moving streams bordered by willows, the green bosoms of the elms, the larkspurs in the cottage gardens, and then the huge peaceful wilderness of outer London, the barges on the miry river, the familiar streets, the posters telling of cricket matches and Royal weddings, the men in bowler hats, the pigeons in Trafalgar Square, the red buses, the blue policemen - all sleeping the deep, deep sleep of England, from which I sometimes fear that we shall never wake till we are jerked out of it by the roar of bombs.

This is prescient in 1938, but it rings familiar today... have we English snuggled back into our comfortable insular indifference?

This is definitely going to be one of my favorite books, for many reasons.

For one, it's full of brilliant and strangely endearing points about Spanish culture. For example, he tells the story of -during the suppression of the POUM militia, for which Orwell fought, by the government - the police searching his wife's hotel room in the middle of the night Gestapo style, sounding the walls, checking every cigarette, lifting every mat. But never searching the bed or underneath it. They couldn't bring themselves to be so rude as to turn a woman out of bed at that time of night.

This sort of thing led Orwell to the conclusion that: n  "They have, there is no doubt, a generosity, a species of nobility... makes one hope that in Spain, even Fascism may take a comparatively loose and bearable form. Few Spaniards possess the damnable efficiency and consistency that a modern totalitarian states needs"n

Another brilliance of this book is its description of Barcelona when Orwell first arrives to join the POUM. He describes Barcelona as "a town where the working class was in the saddle"; every church had "been gutted and its imaged burnt", cafes and shops had been collectivized, revolutionary songs filled the air and servile forms of speech had disappeared. That must have been an amazing experience, I would give anything to see the Barcelona of 1936.

After a while Orwell left Barcelona and was sent to the front where he didn't face much fighting, only one major skirmish in which the POUM briefly captured the Fascist position before being forced to retreat. He talks about the propaganda which was shouted back and forward, ranging from the (correct) accusation of the Fascist soldiers that they were "fighting against their own class" to promises of buttered toast. The first of which Orwell attributes the steady trickle of Fascist deserters to. He makes you sympathize in a sense with the Fascist solider describing him as "some poor devil of a sentry- very likely a Socialist or Anarchist trade union member who has been conscripted against his will"

The next major section is when it starts to get complicated and requires explanation. The May fighting in Barcelona. The political explanations, which are very well written to be easily understood, of this turmoil (and the wider political situation on the Republican side) are in the Appendices. Essentially, the revolutionary progress and agenda of the left-wing unions and militias (mostly the CNT-FAI (Anarchists) and the POUM) was being actively stalled and subverted by , what Orwell terms as, Right-wing Communists. The label "Right-wing Communists" (and Socialists) is pretty confusing at first, but Orwell explains it well.

Essentially, all the Communist Parties of Europe could be considered as carrying out USSR policy and therefore were, what we would now call, Stalinist. The USSR and their supporters seem to have had a number of reasons for opposing revolution and supporting "bourgeois democracy" in Spain, which explains the label Right-wing: Firstly, the USSR was keen to protect their alliance with Capitalist France in light of the growing threat of the Fascist powers, and French Capitalists would not have appreciated their neighbor "going Red". More still, as Orwell points out, the French "would [have] raise[d] heaven and earth to prevent the liberation of Spanish Morocco", to prevent dangerous and inconvenient stirrings of revolutionary sentiment in the neighboring French colonies. Also, Orwell makes an interesting point about how the "French Communists now march behind the tricolor and sing the Marseillaise... [and] have had to drop all effective agitation in the French colonies", demonstrating the Stalinist influence prioritizing the maintenance of strong French capitalism so to be most useful to the USSR as a military ally as opposed to any real Communist agenda. And secondly, since it was clear for the interests of French Capitalism (and a potential future ally, Britain) that revolution was not desirable, the USSR could hope to create another capitalist ally, and with the Communist Party elements in charge it could be sure of the total loyalty of this Capitalist Spain. This explains why the Communists and Right-wing Socialists -whose "viewpoint could everywhere be considered identical"- opposed revolution. How they achieved their dominant position on the Republican side is the next question.

Orwell explains how the balance of power between the revolutionary side (the Anarchist CNT-FAI, Marxist POUM and the Left-wing socialists like Caballero (who had his Socialist government full of ministers from the UGT (Socialist trade unions) and CNT (Syndicalist trade unions)) and the anti-revolutionary side (the Communist Party and their allies) was heavily swung in favor of the Communists since the USSR was the primary arms supplier of the Government side. This was significant for two reasons: Firstly, the USSR could use this leverage to get revolutionary elements removed from the Government. The POUM were first removed from the Catalan Generalidad; then Caballero was replaced by "the Right-wing Socialist" Negrín (who would go on to proclaim "we respect private property"); then the CNT was eliminated from the Government; then the UGT; then the CNT from the Generalidad. Essentially the Government became more and more Right-wing. But secondly, and most interestingly, Orwell points out that the Russian arms were distributed to the Government forces through the Communist Party and their allies, so few got to their political opponents. This is probably the clearest demonstration that the Communists were getting their priorities wrong and undermining the war effort for their political purposes, since this resulted in poor arms available to the predominantly Anarchist troops of the Aragon front.

Now this takes us back to the May fighting in Barcelona which seems to have been caused by an incident fitting with the general trend of anti-revolutionary policy. The Government was seizing key industries back from the control of the unions and was also seizing arms from the Anarchist militias causing a lot of tension. So when trucks of Assault Guards attempted to seize the Telephone Exchange it seems to have brought all that tension to the surface and quickly the whole city was up in arms. We get a view of this situation from two perspectives, firstly, from Orwell's individual experience of it, and later, his journalistic assessment of what really was going on.

This aspect of the book was probably what I enjoyed the most because the politics is all so interesting and like nothing I've ever read about before, and Orwell never fails to give the impression that, while he certainly has his opinions, he is as fair and objective in his assessment as possible and he always acknowledges and warns against his potential bias. But I will not pretend that the best part of the book for me isn't when Orwell gives us his opinions in all his brilliant straightforwardness. A few of my favorites:

n  "When I see an actual flesh-and-blood worker in conflict with his natural enemy, the policeman, I do not have to ask myself which side I am on."n

n  "All the war-propaganda, all the screaming and lies and hatred, comes invariably from people who are not fighting."n

n  "I have the most evil memories of Spain, but I have very few bad memories of Spaniards."n

n  "Perhaps when the next Great War comes we may see that sight unprecedented in all history, a jingo with a bullet-hole in him."n

Also, I think this is (as far as i know) a pretty good characterization of the differences between Communism and Anarchism:

n  "Philosophically, Communism and Anarchism are poles apart. Practically—i.e. in the form of society aimed at—the difference is mainly one of emphasis, but it is quite irreconcilable. The Communist’s emphasis is always on centralism and efficiency, the Anarchist’s on liberty and equality."n

George Orwell belongs in a class all by himself. It is amazing to read something that is so powerful and so humble, and above all so human, all at the same time.

2,5* και αυτό για τις τελευταίες 20-30 σελίδες, που διέθεταν ελαφρώς βαθύτερη αντίληψη για τα τεκταινόμενα. Διαφορετικά θα ήταν 2*.

Λυπάμαι, δεν "μπήκα" ποτέ στην πρόζα του Όργουελ, ούτε στον τρόπο που αναπαριστά ατμόσφαιρα, καταστάσεις, (τόσες) διχόνοιες. Δεν με έπεισε, με έκανε να πλήξω, συχνά πολύ. Ένα θέμα που ούτως ή άλλως βρίσκω, παραδόξως, ότι δεν έχει τόσο βάθος παρά μόνο πλάτος, παρέμεινε για μένα σχετικά ανεξιχνίαστο.

Είμαι παραφωνία στα διθυραμβικά σχόλια. Είναι πιθανόν να κάνω λάθος. Απλά δεν με άγγιξε στο ελάχιστο.

For some reason, I thought I had read George Orwell's Homage to Catalonia years ago, but it appears I did not. Most likely, I got bored by one of the two political chapters and probably stopped reading. Now, I find both the biographical and the political matter both to be excellent; and I see clearly how Orwell's experience fighting with the P.O.U.M. (Workers' Party of Marxist Unification) militia in northeast Spain made possible the great essays such as "Politics and the English Language" and such books as 1984.

If you are interested in stirring battle scenes, then Homage to Catalonia is manifestly not for you:

Glory of war, indeed! In war all soldiers are lousy, at least when it is warm enough. The men who fought at Verdun, at Waterloo, at Flodden, at Senlac, at Thermopylae -- every one of them had lice crawling over his testicles.

During the whole several months of Orwell's military experience, there was only a single action that could be called a battle, and it turned out to be inconclusive.

Shortly after the book's midpoint, Orwell finds himself in Barcelona during a period of civil unrest. The Communists, who through Stalin were funneling weapons -- and orders -- to the Popular Government in Valencia, did everything in its power to destroy P.O.U.M. for being "Trotskyite." And we all know what Stalin thought of Trotsky, particularly during the 1930s. (He had him assassinated in Mexico.) In many ways, Stalin forced his Spanish clients to be every bit as Fascistic as Franco's forces, which were supported by the Nazis and Mussolini's fascisti.

From his experiences in Barcelona, Orwell regrets the extinction of P.O.U.M.:

I am well aware that it is now the fashion to deny that Socialism has anything to do with equality. In every country in the world a huge tribe of party-hacks and sleek little professors are busing 'proving' that Socialism means no more than a planned state-capitalism with the grab-motive left intact. But fortunately there also exists a vision of Socialism quite different from this.

It is shortly after this that a stray Fascist bullet finds its way to -- and through -- Orwell's neck, missing his artery by mere millimeters. After Barcelona and the wound, Orwell tries to get out of Spain without being arrested for being a member of the now despised P.O.U.M.

Homage to Catalonia is one of Orwell's greatest books: I am delighted that I finally read it.

"Una delle più orribili caratteristiche della guerra è che la propaganda bellica, tutte le vociferazioni, le menzogne, l'odio provengono inevitabilmente da coloro che non combattono."
 
George Orwell arriva a Barcellona nel dicembre del 1936 con l’intenzione di scrivere una serie di articoli per alcuni giornali. I suoi ideali di giustizia e libertà lo spingono a unirsi alle file antifasciste del POUM durante la Guerra Civile Spagnola, rivoluzione organizzata da operai e contadini contro il regime di Franco. Ferito gravemente sul fronte, viene ricoverato. Durante la convalescenza il POUM è dichiarato fuori legge. Orwell rischia l’arresto, nonostante ciò prima di rifugiarsi con la moglie in Francia per poi rimpatriare in Inghilterra, cerca di ottenere la liberazione dei militanti imprigionati. La sua narrazione - lontana dalle velleità letterarie hemingwayane di “Per chi suona la campana” - ci pone di fronte alla Storia, agli intrecci politici, al travisamento dei fatti da parte della stampa. Lo fa con stile asciutto e grande onestà intellettuale. Testimonianza lucida, drammatica e disincantata.

Der Spanische Bürgerkrieg war wahrscheinlich der letzte Krieg, der ausführlich von allen Seiten literarisch beleuchtet wurde. In den folgenden Kriegen wurden Autoren von Kaliber nicht mehr zum Dienst an der Waffe gezwungen (wie die vielen Literaten und Künstler im ersten Weltkrieg) oder haben sich freiwillig gemeldet. Die Militärs wissen, um wie viel wirkungsvoller die Schrecken des Krieges von denjenigen beschrieben werden, die daran teilgenommen haben und das heroische Kriegsliteratur sich ab Besten aus der Ferne schreiben und zensieren lässt.

Da Werke von faschistischer Seite keinen Ruhm erlangt haben liegt die Trennlinie bei den literarischen Werken über den spanischen Bürgerkrieg zwischen den Werken, die sich den Stalinisten treu zugesellen und denjenigen, die sich für die Trotzisten und Anarchisten einsetzen. Hemingways "Wem die Stunde schlägt" spielt außer Konkurrenz, da Hemingway den Bürgerkrieg im Bürgerkrieg, die Säuberungen unter dem Einfluss der Sowiets vollständig übergeht.

In meinen Augen ist das beste Werk dieser Epoche Kolzows "Die Rote Schlacht". Kolzow - von Hemingway als Karlow in "Wem die Stunde schlägt" verewigt - war der Starkorrespondent der Prawda. Sein Werk macht keinen Hehl aus seiner Parteiname und ist trieft von Ideologie aber es zeigt einen realistischen Blick auf die militärische Lage und ist wahnsinnig gut geschrieben. Eine Neuauflage wäre wünschenswert (Meine antiquarische Ausgabe stammt vom Verlag der NVA aber warum die so etwas gedruckt haben, zumal Kolzow selbst als Konterrevolutionär erschossen wurde ist ein Kapitel für sich).

"Mein Katalonien" beleuchtet die katalonische Seite und ist in soweit gut mit "Flüchtiger Glanz" von Joan Sales zu vergleichen. Das Werk ist ehrlich, bodenständig und sehr eingängig geschrieben. Es leidet darunter, dass Orwell als einfacher Infanterist an der ereignisarmen aragonesischen Front nur einen sehr verengten Blick gegenüber denjenigen hatte, die als Journalisten zahlreiche Kriegsschauplätze beobachten konnten. Die eigentlich interessanten Passagen kommen gen Ende, wenn die trotzkistische P.O.U.M., zu der Orwell gehört, unterdrückt wird und er untertaucht. Leider konnte ich mir manchmal den Eindruck nicht verkneifen, ganze Passagen schon gelesen zu haben. Sicher liegt es an der Parallelität der Unterdrückungserfahrungen im spanischen Bürgerkrieg.

Quite possibly the best history—and certainly the most concise—of the Spanish Civil War. You can plow through thousands of pages of carefully researched material about the war that can’t hold a candle to a few paragraphs in Orwell’s first-hand experience of actually participating in the fighting, although he’s the first to admit that he saw very little of that.

Of course, the Republicans had the moral high ground and the will of the people behind them, but that wasn’t nearly enough to overcome the moronic and childish internecine fighting between the leftist rabble fighting against the fascists. The anarchists and communists did more damage against each other than they ever did to Franco’s troops. This is true today among liberals. I think it just has to do with the fact that liberals refuse to accept a single message while conservatives gleefully repeat moronic marketing slogans. Build the wall, lock her up, and venom of that nature don’t appeal to thinking people.

The complete and total ineptitude of the Republican war effort is chronicled brilliantly in this thin tome in which the author has reserved much of his criticism for his own incompetence.

More than anything, this book leaves me with the thought that I wish that I could have met Orwell at some point in his early career and had a drink and a cigar with him. I don’t say that about many of my favorite authors. Most of them seem like dorks I would avoid in public.

Many of my friends who formally study literature often say that Orwell might not be considered a top-tier literary figure. They argue that his works are too politically charged, overly serious, not entertaining, and often unsettling. The scenes in 1984 and the tragedies in Animal Farm seem to have obvious allegories. Recently, I even discovered some translations of Animal Farm that explicitly highlight its reference to the Soviet Union. However, I found that people without a literary background often appreciate his works. Political science and sociology students frequently recommend Orwell, and his works are undoubtedly classic examples of dystopian literature and valuable for understanding totalitarian regimes.

Personally, I particularly enjoy this type of writer. When it comes to the gravity of literature, I undoubtedly prefer the weighty. While I can appreciate the lightness of Calvino’s style, it doesn't resonate with me on a deeper level. I remember Orwell once said, ”Looking back through my work, I see that when I lacked a political purpose, I wrote lifeless books, flowery prose, meaningless sentences, ornamental adjectives, and generally deceptive works". - Orwell: Why I Write..

Orwell might not be a conventional literary figure; more accurately, he was a journalist (as was Hemingway). Homage to Catalonia resembles journalistic writing more than literary fiction, but the magic of literature lies in the ability of nonfiction works to also present poetic qualities.

The content of this book is straightforward, recounting Orwell’s memories of fighting against Franco's regime on the Spanish battlefield. There are no grand war scenes or heroic figures; instead, the narrative centers on the intricate internal conflicts within Spain - the clashes between the Spanish Communist Party and anarchist factions, the suppression by "Stalinists" against "Trotskyites." Within the anti-fascist camp, internal contradictions and irreconcilable conflicts abound.

Several parts of the book left a deep impression on me:

1. Orwell's hatred for war correspondents: ”One of the most horrible features of war is that all the propaganda, shouting, and lies come invariably from people who are not fighting." "The people who write pamphlets against us, and those who slander us in newspapers, are often hundreds of miles from the front lines, living comfortably at home or, at most, in the safety of a newsroom in Valencia." "One of the dark aspects of this war is the realization that left-wing media, in every way, are as deceitful and hypocritical as the right-wing media."

2. Lice: ”The parasites on you now resemble tiny lobsters and mainly thrive in your trousers. The only way to get rid of them is to burn all your clothes. They lay clusters of shiny, milky-white eggs along the seams of your pants, resembling tiny grains of millet, which hatch and breed at a terrifying speed. I believe that peace advocates could be more effective by including enlarged photos of lice in their anti-war pamphlets... Those who have fought have lice everywhere, even on their scrotum. We would usually toast their eggs and wash as much as possible whenever conditions allowed, trying to keep their numbers as low as possible. Nothing forces me to jump into cold water like lice do."

3. Spain: ”I have a poor opinion of the country of Spain but no bad impression of the Spaniards. I recall being angry at a Spaniard only twice, and every time I think about it, I believe it was entirely my fault. Undoubtedly, they are generous and noble, but these qualities do not truly belong to the 20th century. Because of this, one might expect even fascism in Spain to adopt a relatively loose and acceptable form of governance. Few people in Spain possess the qualities needed for a modern totalitarian state: terrifying efficiency and a high degree of uniformity.”

Indeed, the distance of Spain from modernity was mentioned by the philosopher José Ortega y Gasset. I deeply relate to this through football. In recent years, my interest in football has waned, partly due to lack of energy but mainly because the passion and magic of football have nearly vanished under the waves of global commercialization. Utilitarian football dominates, and finding an exciting match is challenging (excitement shouldn't be measured by the number of goals). The only team that still moves me is Barcelona, adhering to their unique style. Initially, I only knew Barcelona, but through Barça, I learned about Catalonia's independence movement.

Reading Orwell’s books gave me a deeper understanding of the Catalan people. I'm irresistibly drawn to their unrestrained personality, touched by their sincere unity, and can't help but pay homage to Catalonia.

4.4 / 5 stars

My other review of Orwell's Work:
Animal Farm
1984
The Road to Wigan Pier
Down and Out in Paris and London
Why I Write
Coming up for Air

hadi itiraf edeyim: barcelona’ya gitmesem bu kitabı daha uzun yıllar okumazdım. hele peş peşe aynı yazardan okumayı sevmeyen bir okur olarak aspidistra’yı okuduğum sene bunu zaten okumazdım. ama gelgelelim olaylar bizi buraya getirdi, ve iyi ki de getirdi. ispanya iç savaşıyla ilgili, içerden, insani bir bakış açısından çok güzel şeyler öğrendim. tahmin ettiğimden çok daha öğretici ve akıcı bir okuma oldu. konuya ilgisi olan herkese tavsiye edebilirim.

If there is a book to read on the Spanish Civil War, this is the one. It has the strength of testimony and wins support through the intensity of convictions. Unfortunately, however, this history is older than the younger generations. Still, the ideas, especially the great ideas, endure, and I cannot encourage curious minds too much to immerse themselves in this "homage," which is still current.