Abstract
The very first Article of the 1931 Spanish constitution declared ‘Spain is a democratic republic of workers of all classes’ and that ‘The powers of all its organs derive from the People’. But who were those workers, those People? This populist nationalism was key in legitimizing the Second Spanish Republic and in many of its political and cultural projects, but the state did not develop a clear image of the people. This should come as no surprise, since the ‘People’ was a contested concept in the 1930s, appropriated by different political parties and groups. How were Spaniards supposed to visualize themselves then? Who embodied the Spanish nation in the 1930s, and how was it represented? In this article, I show how different social actors – the state, photographers, the illustrated press – developed varying images of the ‘People’, focused either on the rural population or urban dwellers, who were supposed to play an important role in defining the new Republican nation. These photographic representations offer a window on to the complexities of the intersection between nationalism, populism, and social and political conflict in 1930s Spain, and how the nation was built through printed culture.
The first Article of the Constitution of the Second Spanish Republic (1931) declared that ‘Spain is a democratic republic of workers of all kinds’, adding that ‘the powers of all its organs emanate from the people’. 1 This populist idea of the nation reinforced the idea that was spread immediately after the proclamation of the Republic that the People had brought the new regime to power. This refrain became a central idea in the Republican nationalism that played an essential role in political mobilization throughout the 1930s. 2 In this vein, the events of 14 April of 1931 were thought of as a peaceful revolution, brought about by the People, whose sovereignty was deployed to legitimize the new Republican government. 3 Therefore, to become a viable form of government, the Republic depended on its capacity to spread that idea of the ‘People’ as the very core of the new Republican Nation. 4
This popular and ‘proletarian’ definition of the Republic proved controversial during the first debates within the Constitutional Assembly. The redefinition of the nation around the People appeared problematic not only to the traditional elites, who had been expelled from political power with the arrival of the Republic, but also to the emerging urban middle classes, which the Republic was going to need as much as the proletariat to consolidate itself as a viable form of national government. 5 In this context, it became important to construct the idea of the People. As Rafael Cruz has pointed out, in this task ‘political and intellectual intermediaries were fundamental, designing believable stories [by drawing on] available cultural materials’. 6 Visual Culture played a significant role in constructing national representations. As Jordana Mendelson has shown in pioneering work for the understanding of national representations in the 1930s, photography was particularly important in popular culture during the years of the Republic. 7
This article aims to show the ways in which popular photography, so common in 1930s European culture, participated in the difficult task of constructing representations of the Spanish people during the Republican years (1931–1936). 8 I will argue that the state apparatus encountered many difficulties in building a hegemonic image of the People consistent with the self-proclaimed urban and popular-proletarian origins of the new regime. The Republican state instead focused on representing the rural population: a contested field of discourse, divided between right-wing and Republican nationalist populism. I will try to show how, to be politically effective, ideas of the People had to be shared across the broad political and social spectrum of those who identified with the Republic. In practice, these ideas were contested and re-appropriated by different political groups in the course of public debate. Finally, I will argue that the task of representing that ‘Republic of workers’ was assumed by the non-state-sponsored media and independent photographers working for the illustrated press. The nationalist discourse on the ‘People’ that circulated through photography – usually accompanied by reviews and essays discussing them – in Spain during the 1930s was never under the sole control of the Republican state. Many individuals and institutions produced and disseminated images of the ‘People’, an idea that had been at the centre of the self-definition of the Republic, weakening the potential political use of the concept by Republican governments.
The Rural Population and the Gaze of the State: The Photographic Archive of the Pedagogical Missions
The Republican state produced an archive of images of the Spanish rural population through the photographs taken during the various trips made by the Pedagogical Missions. Created in May 1931 by the Provisional Government of the Republic, the Pedagogical Missions grew from an effort to take culture to the people. Their work included the creation of libraries, film screenings, a travelling museum and concerts of recorded music. Aimed at the rural population, their activities focused mainly on brief tours of the Spanish central plateau and the north-western area.
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The photographs taken by the Pedagogical Missions circulated widely at the time through printed culture – magazines, books, public photomontages – and served, as Jordana Mendelson has pointed out, ‘to provide a transparent direct, and unproblematic link between Spain’s most distant inhabitants and its urban institutions’.
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It is not possible to understand the representation strategies inscribed in these images without understanding the principles which underpinned this nationalist cultural education project.
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The programme and summary of the work of the Board of the Pedagogical Missions that the cultural magazine Residencia published in February 1933 clearly stated that The idea is to bring to the People, preferably those who live in rural areas, the encouragement of progress and the means to participate in it, in its moral stimuli and in the examples of universal advancement so that all Spain’s villages, even remote ones, can participate in the advantages and noble enjoyments which today are the preserve of urban centres.
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The photographs of the Pedagogical Missions reflected the idea that the people would consume culture. Most of the images of the Pedagogical Missions – which were disseminated through the special issue that the Residencia magazine devoted to them in its February 1933 issue and later in the volume published in 1934 by the Board of the Pedagogical Missions – were focused on building an image of the People as public, as the consumer of the cultural products that the missionaries brought them. 15 The extensive graphic information gathered in Residencia showed villagers, children and adults contemplating copies of pictorial masterpieces from the Prado Museum in the so-called People’s Museum, or ecstatically listening to a musical session, in front of a theatrical performance, or watching the sea in a film. 16 All these photographs showed the transparent will of the photographer to transform every gaze into the contemplation of a cultural object or performance, a mode of representation that was coherent with the very culturalist nation-building project of the Republican Government. 17
The published images had a remarkable cultural impact; first of all, among Residencia subscribers, who constituted a clear national readership for the photographs and asked the editors of the magazine to continue publishing such photographic representations of rural Spain. Residencia had to respond to these requests from its readers to publish ‘views of landscapes, national characters and Spanish customs, because their documentary nature establishes almost a direct contact with the most recondite, and we could say charming, parts of our country’. The editors themselves explained that they had already responded to this desire, because Residencia ‘has always paid attention to life in Spain, its monuments and its landscapes, and has published photographs taken in various parts of Spain’. 18 There was no doubt that both the readers and magazine editors recognized in photographs of peasants a particularly profound aspect of their idea of the nation.
Residencia satisfied its readership’s desire for national images with the creation, in 1933, of a new section ‘Through the Lands of Spain’. This section added images taken from the long tradition of artistic photography of national themes, like the photographs of Otto Wunderlich, a German photographer who had worked in Spain since the 1910s ‘recording its national characters, its monuments and works of art in photographs that he later sold in numbered series and published in the press of the time’. 19 When comparing Wunderlich’s photographs with those of the Missions, the different approaches they took in shaping their compositions become clear. The ethnographic and archaeological nature of Wunderlich’s images – which captured, for example, a group of men and women in Guisando while they danced – shows the People in their own cultural context, performing their traditions, while the photographs of the Pedagogical Missions are always focused on the rural population as consumers of the cultural products offered by the missionaries, without documenting any other aspect of their lives. 20 The programmatic nature of this approach by missionary photographers is even more obvious when we compare their photographs with the images of the Pedagogical Missions taken by professional photographers. 21 The excellent photojournalist Erik had published in 1932, before the Missions’ images circulated, a series of photographs illustrating a report by Luis G. de Linares in the magazine Estampa about the activities of the missionaries. 22 Erik captured both the peasants and the missionaries through his usual photographic code, based on the geometric construction of the frame as a sign of modernity. At the same time, he documented the daily work of the Missions by adopting a wholly different approach to that of the Missions’ photographs. The focus on the people in the Pedagogical Missions’ photographs did not go unnoticed at the time: as shown by the reaction of journalist Josefina Carabias, who in an article about the work of the Missions, pointed out that they had brought ‘many photographs, which show us the astonishment and reactions of the peasants to the gift of civilization that these tireless and worthy missionaries carry on behalf of the Republic’. 23
This representation of the people as public, which made manifest the idea of the rural population as the object of state education, was far from being the only reading of those photographs, once they circulated in the public sphere. Several intellectuals mediated the meaning of those images for different audiences, developing an interpretation that showed that the Republican nationalist populism in which they had developed was more complex, since it was also part of the political myths of opponents of the Republic. As Sandie Holguín has pointed out, the same media which depicted the Pedagogical Missions negatively because they formed part of the Republic’s reformist policies, showed a strong interest in their photographs. 24 And they did so, as a brief note in Blanco y Negro pointed out, because of ‘their patriotic cultural work’, which made the special issue of Residencia ‘by all concepts worthy of the highest praise’. 25
José María Salaverría, one of the leading conservative intellectuals during the Republic, reflected most extensively on the images reproduced in Residencia, in an article in the Barcelona conservative newspaper La Vanguardia.
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Salaverría began by denouncing the contempt that some Spanish politicians had expressed for rural life, making direct reference to an expression – the ‘rotten villages’ – pronounced a few weeks before by the then Minister of War, Manuel Azaña. Faced with this contempt, Salaverría read in those images a people who were materially impoverished, but in whom ‘an air of physical and moral health bathes their rustic faces’. The moral value captured by this ‘human document’ went even further, turning these peasants into a symbol of a political and social order accepted with resignation: Living for work and for duty, in constant struggle with a nature that is often hostile and very rarely lavish; here it is their obscure and yet glorious mission, that they know how to fulfil it in a way that perhaps men in the big cities who know everything are not capable of imitating. [I]t is enough for them to be the resilient and submissive mass on which the building of the nation can be sustained. They are the deposit in which the reserves of health and ingenuity destined to nourish the cities are kept, since the big cities consume themselves and need the constant human nourishment that the country sends them.
Salaverría’s interpretation showed that these images of the rural people also made a conservative nationalist-populist reading possible: a reading completely opposed to the Republican principles that had produced the images. But even the representation strategies of these ‘very meaningful images of the effects that these missions had on country people’ could serve a conservative programme, such as the one developed shortly afterwards by Francisco de Cossío, an intellectual linked to conservative Castilian nationalism, from the pages of the monarchical newspaper ABC. Cossío not only attacked the Republic, again using the reference to the ‘rotten villages’ of Azaña, but explicitly contradicted the official document that presented the Missions’ programme, pointing out that these should actually ‘bring people from the cities to the country villages, so that they have means to participate in the culture of those villages’. 27 Cossío went on to state that ‘the serious problem in Spain is the lack of culture in the cities, the lack of culture among city workers, surrounded by civilization and insensible to it, with eyes that do not see and ears that do not understand’. Faced with these cultural failings of the worker, the images of the Pedagogical Missions showed a deep commitment to those they observed, concluding that ‘even if the pedagogical missions had made no contribution other than this, it would be enough if the people of the villages, who are not the same as the ‘people’, gained the ability to see’. Again, the fact that the images used the rural population to represent the nation made it possible to read them against the pedagogical and Republican nationalist programme that shaped their origins. It should be noted that this interest in the People might have been merely reactive, an attempt by conservative intellectuals to re-appropriate those images of the People produced by the Republican state to use them against it. This would explain the significant shift that occurs in the photographic culture of conservative nationalism, which, during the 1920s, had been focused on historic cities and national sites of memory. 28
The conservative reading of these images was not the only one, as shown by the response of César M. Arconada, who from the pages of the communist cultural magazine Octubre read them from a proletarian populist point of view, while pointing out the limits to this Republican project of representation. 29 The symbolic value of these images was marked from the start by a formal construction – framing the people as public – that made manifest the idea of the relationship between the cultural representatives of the Republican state and the rural people the images captured. Subsequent readings, however, which became possible once the images circulated outside of the channels of the state, exposed the problem of making the Republic synonymous with the rural population. The danger was that reading the rural people as the nation could be taken up by other nationalist populisms very different from that of the Republic. 30
Archaeology of the Nation: The Pictorialist Photography of José Ortiz-Echagüe
The photographic representations of the rural population in the 1930s were not reduced to the cultural populism of the Republican state. Artistic photography, moving between formal pictorialism and the documentary style, rendered the rural population one of its fundamental objects. Since the 1920s, pictorialist photography had been focused on the creation of representations of the nation, both through its landscapes and its people, a trend that continued in the 1930s. 31 José Ortiz-Echagüe, a photographer who worked in this vein and who had been active in national and international amateur photographic circles for decades, saw his work spread among the Spanish public during the 1930s, thanks to the publication of his book National Characters and Costumes of Spain (1930), originally published in Germany a year earlier. 32 Ortiz-Echagüe’s photography sought to capture the national tradition through the material culture of the People, conceived in its various regional expressions.
Ortiz-Echagüe himself wrote in ‘My Photographic Career’, the brief memoir he published in Camera Craft in 1925, that his images were pure constructions, achieved with no little effort of localization and composition. To take his photographs of rural subjects in their anachronistic traditional clothes, Orti-Echagüe had to convince them to wear them, since most of those clothes were no longer regularly used. 33 Ortiz-Echagüe was well aware that this material tradition was destined to disappear or to survive exclusively linked to tourism. His work only managed to preserve artificially a past that only he, as an intellectual interested in the idea of traditional national culture, cared for. 34 He was not so much interested in the People as a social reality, but as the depositary of a national tradition, materialized in their costumes and customs. Ortiz-Echagüe’s conservatism always led him to pay more attention to the abstractions of national culture than to the reality of the Spanish population. 35
This problematic duality between anachronism and preservation was also present in the prologue of the book, by José Ortega y Gasset, that satirized the final result of Ortiz-Echagüe’s photographs. Ortega warned the reader that the People appeared in those images ‘as if representing, in jest, a role that some erudite poet has made up for them, that is, living the definition that someone who is not the people has given of them’. 36 It was therefore a form of pure cultural populism, created by an intellectual to fulfil his nationalist goals, since, as Pierre Bourdieu pointed out, the People are ‘first of all one of the stakes in the struggles between intellectuals’. 37 The populist mysticism that underlaid that photographic construction was also denounced by Fernando Vela in his review of the book. Vela, following Ortega, considered this populism to be as close to romanticism as it was distant from a viable project of modern culture. Vela took his criticism even further than Ortega, pointing out that those photographs failed even in their purely nationalist function. The feeling of temporal distance that the anachronistic tone of the photographs produced in the observer was similar to that of looking at images of past cultures, which diminished the purely national emotion. 38 Vela, like other reviewers of the time, seemed to be more interested in Ortega’s prologue than in the images of Echagüe, clearly showing that the Madrid intellectuals who reviewed the book thought of these representations of the nation in the rural world as a dead end. 39
A few years later, in the context of the new populism that the Second Republic brought, the national functions of art photography did not seem to be so inconsistent and intellectuals reflected once again publicly about the relationship between photography and the nation. In 1932, José Francés, writer and art critic with a long career as a contributor to the illustrated press, published his work Artistic Photography. 40 Francés defended the kind of photography that Ortiz-Echagüe practised, both for its aesthetic and documentary value. 41 Rural artistic photography also had an added symbolic value because it was moving away from urban centres to capture ‘the mountain villages, the people who inhabit them, their picturesque customs, the vigorously architectural line of their humble buildings or their emblazoned mansions. This brings us to another aesthetic suggestion of photography: its effective value in what we might call “the reintegration of the Spaniard into national artistic physiognomy” ’. 42
Particular attention was paid in this text to traditional dress, the main object of Ortiz-Echagüe’s photography. Using the example of the mantilla, Francés denounced how the popular classes were losing their specific characteristics as part of a process of naturalization of modern fashions. Faced with this situation, artistic photography could perform a task of ‘reintegration’ of national values, of the ‘Spanishization of Spain’, through ‘the exaltation of the popular costume in its popular environment, flaunted by the pure racial types’. 43 What Francés was asking for was already characteristic of Ortiz-Echagüe’s photography. He formed the very paradigm of the photographer who travelled through rural Spain and then disseminated his photographs through printed culture, becoming a true agent of nationalization. According to Francés, photographers like Ortiz-Echagüe ‘bring back people and customs, the forgotten attires, they rekindle provincial vanity and teach young people in each province the lines and colours of the beautiful costumes characteristic of another time’. 44 José Francés’ theory of artistic photography revitalized the potential for the nationalization of photographs like those of Ortiz-Echagüe, in spite of the lack of interest with which intellectuals had received them in 1930.
Ortiz-Echagüe’s photography gained a new life during the Republic, thanks to an exhibition in 1933 that toured Spain and made possible the extended reissue as a catalogue of his 1930 book. 45 The exhibition began at the Círculo de Bellas Artes in Madrid and was open, with free admission, between October 10 and 17, reaching a large audience and reigniting the debate about his work in the press. 46 The reception of his work could not be further this time from the one he had suffered in 1930. José Francés wrote an extensive article on the photographs for Nuevo Mundo, illustrated with Ortiz-Echagüe’s own images, in which he applied his arguments of 1932 on the denationalization of the popular classes and the traditional popular costume to the works of Ortiz-Echagüe. 47 The exhibition also had a significant reception in the most conservative press. La Nación, a newspaper that had been founded and financed directly by the Primo de Rivera dictatorship, pointed out that Echagüe’s work covered ‘a whole era of the Hispanic race’, highlighting both the artistic value and the documentary accuracy of the photographs. 48 The oldest of the conservative newspapers, La Época, did not hesitate to point out that this photographic work carried out ‘a cultural labour, absolutely necessary for knowledge … of national customs’. 49
Even more significant was Manuel Abril’s review in Blanco y Negro, since he was a Catholic art critic who wrote for both the liberal and conservative press. Abril explained Ortiz-Echagüe’s photographs to his readers through a metaphor that turned Spain into a tree whose trunk ‘serves to awaken the deepest forms of national being that are rooted in and co-substantial with Hispanic soil’. This image was developed all through the article, arguing that the apparent variety of forms that traditional Spanish culture took was necessarily reunited under an unquestionable idea of national unity. Another metaphor – the orchestra – was used to reaffirm, with an unmistakable conservative tone, the national harmony within the aesthetic variety that Echagüe’s photography captured: ‘the people are orchestration: orchestration, the nation, when it is a nation united by history, when it is traditional’. Abril concluded that ‘two Spanish regions that are diverse in their types, are, nevertheless, both Spanish, by will of a primitive sap’. There was little doubt that Ortiz-Echagüe’s photographs, interpreted by Abril for the readers of Blanco y Negro, represented a reaffirmation of the natural reality of the Spanish nation through its regional differences. 50 Abril was not the only conservative intellectual interested in the cultural populism of Ortiz-Echagüe’s photography as a mean for reaffirming Spain’s national unity despite the apparent regional differences. 51 José María Salaverría also participated in the debate through an article that appeared in the newspaper ABC, where he reaffirmed his belief in a racial nationalism that distinguished between regions. For Salaverría it was in the north of Spain where the very origin of Spanish nationality had to be sought, as the photograph of a fisherman from Orio by Ortiz-Echagüe made it possible to argue. This fisherman represented, in Salaverría’s eyes, ‘the whole tradition of a race, as a resistant vestige that triumphs over all the mixing of races and the ending of this Babelic hour of today’. 52 But the nationalist regionalism that Ortiz-Echagüe’s photography materialized not only made possible readings that affirmed this desire for national unity, it could also feed other forms of nationalism. When the exhibition arrived in Barcelona, the photographer Pere Català Pic found in ‘all the works a certain mysticism of race that is in perfect agreement with the mysticism that the characters of El Greco express’. But Català was not especially interested in this kind of Spanish mystic nationalism, but rather in the possibility that Catalan photographers could organize an exhibition with identical ethnographic and historical value, but focused this time on Catalonia, a region that Echagüe had not included in his photographs. 53
Critics in the liberal press, for their part, again dismissed Ortiz-Echagüe’s photography as an anachronistic representation of the nation. Manuel Abril, in an article published in Luz just a few weeks before his review for Blanco y Negro, offered the liberal and Republican readers of this newspaper a significantly different reading of the images of Echagüe. In this reading, the images lacked an essentially national character and were marked by their anachronistic and archaeological nature, unable to capture the most valuable aspects of the living popular tradition, which by 1933 should be found elsewhere. 54 For example, as Juan de la Encina pointed a few weeks later in another review in El Sol, Echagüe’s photography produced only archaeological images, while the photographs ‘that the directors of the Pedagogical Missions have brought from their tours of the villages’ had great documentary value. 55
In spite of their apparent archaeological nature, Ortiz-Echagüe’s photographs ended up becoming part of the ethnographic archive of the Museum of the Spanish People, created in 1934. 56 The same paradox that we saw in the readings of the photographic archive of the Pedagogical Missions occurred again, but now the other way around: images produced with a conservative goal were used now as part of the Republican state’s discourse on the People. 57 The same political paradox that we saw in the different readings of the photographs of the Pedagogical Missions, as useful to the discourse of the Republican State as to conservative intellectuals, was happening again. The problem was that the search for a representation of the nation in the People, and specifically in the rural population, was not exclusive to the Republican state. This populist idea of the nation offered a heritage shared not only by different Spanish nationalisms, liberal and conservative, but even by working-class organizations like the Spanish Communist Party. Where could the new citizens look for images of that Republic of workers that had been defined in 1931?
A Nation of Workers in the Illustrated Press? The Populist Urban Reportage
During the 1930s, the illustrated press proved to be the only media able to produce a coherent photographic image of the people as the nation of workers that the Republic was supposed to be. Unlike what had happened with both the Pedagogical Missions and the photographs of José Ortiz-Echagüe, however, the images that resulted from the cultural populism of the illustrated press did not lead to the same kind of theoretical readings that analyzed their role in contemporary national culture. This leaves the cultural historian with a phenomenon – the frequent appearance in the illustrated press of representations of the People as workers – that, as Cliffort Geertz pointed out when writing about the anthropologist, must be addressed by gathering unconnected fragments and insinuations to be able to construct the object that must be analyzed. 58 To interpret these representations, it is essential to understand the cultural role that the illustrated press had fulfilled for decades and the discursive changes that were introduced in this medium at the end of the 1920s, with the increasing predominance of the photographic image over the text. All those changes made the appearance of new titles such as Estampa (1928) and Crónica (1929) possible. They became the main medium for this new photographic populism, a trend that can also be observed in other European countries, like Germany and France. 59
Nationalism in the illustrated press had been very obvious since its origins in the nineteenth century, both in terms of content and conceptualization. 60 The new illustrated magazines that appeared at the turn of the 1920s also presented themselves as part of a national-identity-building project that was being carried forward by the cultural market and not the State. Estampa shows this quite clearly in its first issue, in which Alberto Insúa insisted on referring to the production of the magazine as ‘a patriotic act’. The ‘capital importance’ of the photographic images would make it possible for this discourse to reach a very large audience, since ‘the ideal of a modern illustrated newspaper is that even those who cannot read would “understand” it’. 61 The editors of Estampa wanted to reach ‘all the Spanish cities, towns, and villages’, something that at the beginning of the 1930s they seemed to have achieved, reaching a circulation of 195,000. 62 The same could be said of Crónica, published by Prensa Gráfica to compete with Estampa, a magazine also focused on the photographic image and which paid special attention to ‘the palpitations of modern life and the synthesis of world events’. 63 The advertisements announcing its publication affirmed that ‘Crónica will be a national magazine, looking at life in the cities and fields of Spain’. 64 Crónica enjoyed an immediate success and after just five issues the publishers could boast of having managed to ‘conquer the most copious and heterogeneous readership of all the Spanish magazines of its kind’. 65 Crónica and Estampa had to redefine their representational strategies to fulfil their self-proclaimed modernity, focusing on urban life but also, from 1931 onwards, on the new political situation. From then on, these magazines abandoned the historicism that had dominated their representations of the nation during the dictatorship of Primo de Rivera. 66
While renewing the traditional national function of the illustrated press, these magazines reflected the discursive changes in the strategies of representation of the contemporary world that heralded the triumph of reportage over traditional forms of journalistic writing like the newspaper column. 67 These changes responded to the journalistic need to capture what was happening in the world in the present time, for which photography provided a particularly important and effective medium. 68 Although the public was interested in receiving that information through ‘pictures of real life’, the truth is that there was an obvious intellectual direction from the creators in the construction of their reportage. 69 As pointed out in 1932 by the anonymous reviewer of Pedro Massa’s Grace and Scandal of the Reportage, it was evident that ‘the reportage is no longer the reproduction, with photographic accuracy, of the facts or the figures. It is its interpretation’. 70 The reportage was not, therefore, an objective discourse, but an attempt to attribute meaning to events as they happened.
This was quite clear in the way the illustrated press contributed, from the start, to the construction of a populist mythology around the proclamation of the Republic. The aforementioned Pedro Massa was in charge of explaining to the readers of Crónica what was happening during the first weeks of the new regime. Massa did not hesitate to point out that the elections of 12 April were a resurgence of the people in Spanish politics: ‘the people without a pulse that Silvela spoke about, referring to the whole nation, have just unequivocally shown that they possess, to a great degree, the precious sign of vitality’. 71 The results of the elections had been the realization of the old ideal of popular sovereignty, because for Massa ‘the people and only the people won at the polls’. 72 From then on, Massa would try in his articles to protect the notion of the People in the conflicts that arose in the following months. 73 When approaching the burning of convents in May 1931, the People appeared in his articles as a model and guarantor of order. The Republican government showed, by not making a revolutionary use of power, the same moderation that the people had shown by ‘imposing their sovereignty’ on 14 April. 74 Although stated less clearly, the way in which the burning of convents was covered in Estampa also showed a significant desire to separate the people from the disorder happening at the time. The violent actions that news photographers and journalists witnessed on the streets of Madrid was presented as those of an anonymous ‘public’ or, simply, ‘the attackers’. 75 The people that had peacefully brought in the Republic could not be, just a few weeks later, the cause of disorder. 76
A political goal lay beneath this defence of the people and their sovereignty as the origin of the Republic, as an article published in Crónica in May clearly showed. The text, almost of an editorial nature, reflected on the growing concern about the fiscal pressure on the middle class, a problem that the Republic had to solve in order to achieve economic equality for both the middle class and the working class. These were exactly the social classes that had given birth to the Republic. It was precisely in the social spectrum that included both classes from which the Republic had been born: ‘that average man, not an uneducated fanatic nor an unconditional partisan or sceptic of the system, is the national prototype of today’s Spain: the one that has brought the Republic’. For this reason, it was necessary for the new regime ‘to raise the dignity of the average man – worker and middle class – before long and as soon as possible … If this is not done, the Republic, between the selfish resistance of those at the top and the resentment exacerbated by the hunger of those below, will be in grave danger … ’. 77 The illustrated press kept working throughout the 1930s on this strategic unification of the middle class – from where almost all of the readers of Crónica and Estampa came – and the working class through numerous articles. José Sánchez Rojas wrote in Crónica in response to this need to give a true national sense to the Republic at the end of the first year of the new government: ‘today we are citizens; nothing more and nothing less than citizens; we are all forging history and building a homeland. Do you not feel a holy tremor when writing or speaking to our brothers the Spaniards, in this hour full of eternity?’ 78 As Margarita Márquez Padorno has pointed out, a new collective pride was emerging among citizens, focused on an idea of the People who were beginning ‘to be identified as a community of citizens through the civic virtues demonstrated during the establishment of the Republic’. 79
The specific needs for the survival of the Republic made it necessary to bring to the urban middle classes an image of the working class that could be assumed as part of this shared Republican national identity in formation. The urban populist reportage disseminated by the illustrated press fulfilled that need, in a context in which cities in the process of modernization were perceived by both the government and the conservative opposition as underpinning and driving the changes being brought about by the Republic. Most of this populist reportage was centred on the representation of daily life in cities, with both Crónica and Estampa focusing on the observation of the collective leisure of the urban middle and working classes. Madrid’s petite bourgeoisie was collectively portrayed in the images of graphic reporters such as Erik, Cortés, Videla or Montaña, through new practices and leisure spaces that were becoming the norm in the modern city.
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These representations had a subtle political function, especially when they reached more popular social strata. The journalist M. Martín Agacir reflected on the reasons to write about the leisure of the people of Madrid in these terms: We are going there this afternoon too, towards the ordinary streets of Madrid. Certainly, because one feels a little revolutionary we must not hurry to enlist in one of those terrible neighbourhood committees that promise a succulent future in exchange for forests of angry arms and storms of insulting voices … [E]very day we feel with more tenderness the bitter pains of the poor helpless people; every day we are more irritated by the injustice of the world and we are more attracted to the miserable, wounded, ragged, or simply infirm people. Bringing it to the centre of the stage is a way to achieve a peaceful revolution.
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This kind of discourse that tried to reassure middle-class readers was even more evident in the case of labour reportage, one of the dominant genres in this populist reportage. Since its foundation, the magazine Crónica had had an intermittent section, ‘Pages on Work’, which functioned under various bylines during the first year of the Republic, paying special attention to the working conditions of modest workers. 84 An important part of this attempt to dignify the workers was to give them a non-politically dangerous image. This particularly affected representations of female workers, who took a prominent role in this type of reportage, not just because a significant part of the illustrated press reading public was female, but also because the ‘women of the people, middle-class girls, employees and university students, who, clearly, represent the Spanish woman’, had a fundamental role in the representations of the people that had brought about the new regime. 85
In the first weeks after the proclamation of the Republic, ‘Pages on Work’ was in the hands of Florencia M. Marqués, who used it to present those working women who, since 14 April, identified with the Republican nation. Her first column began with the desire to inform the magazine’s readers ‘of how women work in Madrid, how much they earn and what improvements they want in their jobs’. But when, in the process of discussing with a group of ‘little dressmakers’ their improvable economic conditions, one of them spoke of forming a cooperative, Marqués quickly tells us that the rest of them opposed the proposal. The report concludes by pointing out that they are perfectly adapted to work ‘because we were born to work’, although they would like a better employment situation. 86 This kind of report on ‘honest workers’, who had placed their hopes in the new Republic but still had economic concerns that they shared with the journalist, kept appearing during the summer of 1931, always in this same tone. 87
Marqués’ reports were not the only ones focused on women in the first months of the Republic. Other articles insisted on the fact that these working women were the product of cities undergoing modernization, such as the Galician coastal town of Vigo. Journalist L. Conde de Rivera did not hesitate to say that this city ‘offers all the features of a modern American city’. Vigo’s ‘little dressmakers’ were presented as revolutionary, but ‘pacific revolutionaries’, supporters, as the people had been on April 14, of ‘a moderate Republic, without bloodshed’. 88 L. Conde de Rivera and photographer Sellier would devote another report to the ‘little dressmakers’ from A Coruña, whose opinion on Republican politics interested the magazine as much as any other citizen’s opinion. 89 Pedro Massa, accompanied by photographer Videa, also wrote some populist pieces about poor workers from Madrid, like the one devoted to a vegetable seller. Massa insisted on creating a moral image of the people, emphasizing his interviewee’s absolute sincerity. 90 He also saw some important virtues in a group of washerwomen he interviewed, highlighting the one who, despite her proverbial foul language, showed ‘veins of pure goodness—like her counterparts, temperamentally speaking, the cigar maker and the vegetable seller—; she is long-suffering and hardworking like few others’. 91
All these working women were made into an example of the good sense of the popular classes who were now facing the growing economic and social crisis with an inherent ‘resignation’ and ‘goodness’. The illustrated press built a representation of the Republic as a nation of workers that confirmed, as Ana María Martínez-Sagi pointed out, that it ‘is in the working class, and especially the working women, where the Republican feelings and the sense of freedom and democracy are deeply rooted’. 92
Conclusion: Mobilizing the People?
With the end of the reformist biennium, when interest in the construction of a viable idea of a Republican nation stood at its highest, the populist reportage that we have studied virtually disappeared from the illustrated press. Until 1936, the illustrated press progressively trivialized its content, framing the few reports that kept appearing with a new type of urban ‘black’ populism, more concerned with poverty, unemployment and urban crime than with the lives of workers. We can therefore say that the life of this kind of populist nationalist reportage was short and its impact on the representation of the nation less important than that of rural populism, whose discursive complexity had made it unfeasible as a functional representation of that new Republican nation.
However, I believe that this kind of reporting became the fundamental reference for some of the key images of the visual culture of the Civil War. It is not possible to think of the emergence of the iconic image of the militiamen and militiawomen as the representation of the nation in arms during the civil war without the antecedent of populist reporting. During the second half of 1936, as pointed out by Helen Graham, the need to mobilize the middle and working classes that had remained in the Republican zone against the coup d’état, forced the creation of a national discourse capable of mobilizing that heterogeneous social base through some shared principles. 93 Núñez Seixas has detailed how, during the first weeks after the coup d’état, nationalism became a mobilization weapon on the Republican side because of the absence of a clear political hegemony. 94 There was an ‘unusual and without precedents reactivation of the discursive importance, conceptual and iconographic, of the nation’. 95 This mobilization immediately took a populist tone, which considered the people ‘as the keeper of the most authentic virtues of the nation, for being an undefined and variable mixture of subaltern classes and social groups’. 96 Soon this connection between nation and people was assumed by the whole left, in particular by the Communist Party, from where it spread to all the loyalist organizations, giving rise to a true populist discourse within the nationalist rhetoric, that turned the people in to what José Álvarez Junco has called the ‘messianic subject of the war of national liberation’. 97
This national popular discourse had an obvious correlation in the photographic culture with the proliferation of images of ‘militiamen’ and ‘militiawomen’, the very representation of that people’s nation in arms. Those images appeared in the same magazines that had previously devoted so much attention to building an image of a Republic of workers. During the first weeks of the war, the women previously represented at their place of work began to be represented as ‘militiawomen’ involved in the process of revolution and defence of the Republic or as the ‘soul of the people’, taking care of those wounded in combat. Their image was once again disseminated through both covers and extensive photo reportage and interviews. 98 The images of the daily life of the popular classes, now mobilized in militias, were the object of the detailed attention of reporters, now turned into defenders of the Homeland. 99 The urban people resurfaced as a representation of a Republican nation now in arms.
This mobilization through photographic images arrived, however, too late. Despite its definition of Spain as a Republic of workers, the images of the nation that the state produced through photography focused exclusively on the rural population. Republican cultural policy never proved able to control through photography the discourse around the people and the nation. As we have seen, the rural people formed part not only of the Republican nationalist mythology, but also right-wing nationalism’s conservative populism. The images of rural populism created by the Pedagogical Missions were re-appropriated by right-wing intellectuals, whose idea of the Spanish nation also focused on the many virtues of country people. At the same time, this ambivalence within rural populism made possible the inclusion of the photographs of José Ortiz-Echagüe in Republican cultural institutions such as the Museum of the People, despite the clear conservative significance those images had in the public sphere. Meanwhile, the representation of the urban working classes – a broad spectrum that included the lower strata of the urban middle class – remained in the hands of photographers and reporters who worked for the illustrated press, rather than the Republican state.
The discourse of the people as the living core of the nation in the Spain of the 1930s formed a contested space over which the state failed to gain hegemony. The discourses of the people and the nation in the photographic culture of the 1930s probably never had the impact that could be expected from mass media, but they would still help to raise some questions about what the Republic and Republicans had to struggle against to build a new idea of the nation as a people.
Footnotes
2
R. Cruz, Una revolución elegante. España 1931 (Madrid 2014), and id., En el nombre del pueblo. República, rebelión y guerra en la España de 1936 (Madrid 2006); M. P. Salomón, ‘Republicanismo e identidad nacional española: la República como ideal integrador y salvífico de la nación’, in C. Forcadell, P. Salomón and I. Saz, eds, Discursos de España en el siglo XX (Valencia 2009), 35–64. A. Martí Bataller, ‘España somos nosotros. Socialismo y democracia republicana: las elecciones de 1936’, in A. Aguado and L. Sanfeliu, eds, Caminos de democracia. Ciudadanía y culturas democraticas en el siglo XX (Granada 2014), 45–61.
3
Cruz, Una revolución elegante, 91–3.
4
R. Cruz, ‘Pueblo, parapueblo y contrapueblo en 1931’, in J. Moreno-Luzón and F. del Rey, eds, Pueblo y nación. Homenaje a José Álvarez Junco (Madrid 2013), 109–10, 115; M. García Alonso, ‘“Necesitamos un pueblo”, Genealogía de las Misiones Pedagógicas’, in Val del Omar y las Misiones Pedagógicas (Madrid 2003), 81.
5
E. González Calleja, F. Cobo Romero, A. Martínez Rus and F. Sánchez Pérez, La Segunda República Española (Barcelona 2015), 90; J. M. Beascochea Gangoiti and L. E. Otero Carvajal, eds, Las nuevas clases medias urbanas. Transformación y cambio social en España. 1900–1936 (Madrid 2015).
6
Cruz, ‘Pueblo, parapueblo y contrapueblo’, 118.
7
J. Mendelson, Documenting Spain: Artists, Exhibition Culture, and the Modern Nation, 1929–1939 (University Park, PA 2005). This article is very much indebted to Mendelson’s work. See also Carl-Henrik Bjerström, Josep Renau and the Politics of Culture in Republican Spain, 1931–1939: Re-Imagining the Nation (Brighton 2017). Here ‘cultural populism’ will refer to the creation of cultural products with the explicit intention of creating images of the People. For a different approach see J. McGuigan, Cultural Populism (London 1992).
8
Fotomontaje de entreguerras 1918–1939 (Madrid 2012); Rodchenko photographe. La révolution dans l’oeil (Paris 2007), 360–75; B. H. D. Buchloh, ‘From Faktura to Factography’, in R. Bolton, ed., The Contest of Meaning (Cambridge 1996), 76–7; J. Barsac, Charlotte Perriand and Photography: A Wide-Angle Eye (Milan 2011), 264–77; and D. Dell, The Image of the Popular Front: The Masses and the Media in Interwar France (New York 2007).
9
E. Afinoguénova, ‘Leisure and Agrarian Reform: Liberal Governance in the Traveling Museums of Spanish Misiones Pedagógicas’, Hispanic Review, Vol. 2 (2011), 261–90; S. Holguín, Creating Spaniards: Culture and National Identity in Republican Spain (Madison, WI 2002), 47–78.
10
Mendelson, Documenting Spain, 97.
11
S. Holguín, Creating Spaniards, 47–55.
12
S., ‘Patronato de Misiones Pedagógicas’, Residencia, February 1933, 1–21, at 1.
13
‘Los jóvenes de Misiones Pedagógicas contestas a nuestras preguntas’, El Sol, 6 August 1933, 10.
14
The power/knowledge dynamics present in the Pedagogical Missions project has not always been fully acknowledged. See Alejandro Tiana, Las misiones pedagógicas: La educación popular en la Segunda República (Madrid 2016).
15
S., ‘Patronato de Misiones Pedagógicas’; Patronato de Misiones Pedagógicas. Septiembre de 1931–Diciembre de 1933 (Madrid 1934). Mendelson has written that these images ‘often focus on rural spectators’ fascination with and wonder for the performances and lessons of the Misiones’, in Documenting Spain, 95. According to Gonzalo Menéndez-Pidal, who took many of the photographs, some of them where cut from bigger original negatives to intentionally focus on people as spectators. See Mendelson, Documenting Spain, 104.
16
S. ‘Patronato de Misiones Pedagógicas’, 2–5, 7–8, 10–11, 13–15, 17, 19 and 21.
17
S. ‘Patronato de Misiones Pedagógicas’, 19; H. Fernández and J. Ortiz-Echagüe, ‘Patronato de Misiones Pedagógicas’, in H. Fernández, ed., Fotos & Libros. España 1905–1977 (Madrid 2014), 87–8, consider the gaze as the main subject of these photographs. On republican culturalism see M. Tuñón de Lara, ‘El proyecto cultural de la II República’, in Comunicación, cultura y política durante la II República y la Guerra Civil. Tomo II. España (1931–1939) (Bilbao 1990), 331–6, and M. Tuñón de Lara, ‘La Política cultural del primer bienio republicano: 1931–1933’ in J. L. García Delgado, ed., La II República. El primer bienio (Madrid 1997), 265–84.
18
‘Por tierras de España’, Residencia, October/November 1933, 151.
19
P. López Mondéjar, Historia de la fotografía en España. Fotografía y sociedad desde sus orígenes hasta el siglo XXI (Barcelona 2005), 279.
20
‘Por tierras de España’, Residencia, December 1933, 207, 209 and 216; Residencia, October/November 1933, 157, 159–60; Residencia, February 1934, 132.
21
The authorship of the Missions’ photographs is still discussed, although most of them where taken by Gonzalo Menéndez Pidal and José Val de Omar. See J. Mendelson, ‘Archivos colectivos y autoría individual: La fotografía y las Misiones Pedagógicas’, in Las misiones pedagógicas 1931–1936 (Madrid 2006), 169–70, as well as H. Fernández and J. Ortiz-Echagüe, ‘Val del Omar y la documentación gráfica de Misiones Pedagógicas’, in Desbordamiento de Val del Omar (Madrid 2010), 74–89.
22
G. de Linares L and Erik, ‘En España hay muchos pueblos que viven en plena Edad Media. Las Misiones Pedagógicas les enseñan lo que es un automóvil, un aeroplane … ’ Estampa, 10 September 1932.
23
C. J., ‘Las Misiones Pedagógicas. Dos años y medio recorriendo pueblos de España’, La Voz, 25 April 1933, 3.
24
Holguín, Creating Spaniards, 75.
25
‘Notas bibliográficas. Residencia’, Blanco y Negro, 15 May 1933, 5.
26
J. M. Salaverría, ‘Ideas y notas. Imágenes rurales’, La Vanguardia, 23 May 1933, 5.
27
F. de Cossío, ‘Misiones pedagógicas’, ABC, 29 June 1933, 16.
28
E. Hernández Cano, ‘“Solitarios refugios de efemérides viejas”. Monumentos y ciudades históricas como símbolos nacionales en la prensa gráfica (1918–1930)’, Hispania, Vol. 13 (2013), 377–408.
29
C. M. Arconada, ‘¿Es posible un cine español?’, Octubre, 2 May 1933.
30
Mendelson, Documenting Spain, 107–15.
31
C. Zelich, ‘La fotografía pictorialista en España, 1900–1936’, in La fotografía pictorialista en España 1900–1936 (Barcelona 1998), 2–22.
32
J. Ortiz Echagüe, Spanische Köpfe (Berlin 1929), and id., Tipos y trajes de España (Madrid 1930).
33
J. Ortiz-Echagüe, ‘Spanische Köpfe’, in H. Fernández, ed., Fotos & Libros. España 1905–1977 (Madrid 2014), 80.
34
Ortiz-Echagüe, Tipos y trajes, 37–8.
35
Not surprisingly, the books that followed this one, Spain, Villages and Landscapes (1939), Mystic Spain (1943) and Spain, Castles and ‘Alcázares’ (1956), focused on the material forms of the nation, not in its people – except to present them as devoted Catholics in Mystic Spain.
36
J. Ortega y Gasset, ‘Para una ciencia del traje popular’, in Ortiz-Echagüe, Tipos y trajes, 7.
37
P. Bourdieu, ‘Los usos del “pueblo”’, in id., Cosas dichas (Barcelona 2000), 152.
38
F. Vela, ‘Sobre arte popular’, El Sol, 23 March 1930, 2.
39
J. de la Encina, ‘De arte. “Tipos y Trajes de España”’, La Voz, 28 February 1930, 2, and A. J. Arte, ‘Ortiz Echague, José: “Tipos y trajes de España”’, El Sol, 27 March 1930, 3.
40
J. Francés, La fotografía artística (Madrid 1932).
41
Ibid., 8–10.
42
Ibid., 11–12, 24–5.
43
Ibid., 25–7.
44
Ibid., 29.
45
J. Ortiz Echagüe, España tipos y trajes (Barcelona 1933). The book was a success and sold 3000 copies a year until the beginning of the civil war. See Ortiz-Echagüe, ‘Spanische Köpfe’, 82.
46
‘Notas de arte. Exposición de obras fotográficas de Ortiz Echagüe’, La Nación, 9 October 1933, 10. ‘Noticiario de Madrid’, La Tierra, 9 October 1933, 3; ‘Vida artística. Clausura de la Exposición J. Ortiz Echagüe’, El Sol, 17 October 1933, 4. It was also shown in Barcelona and Zaragoza. See P. Català i Pic, ‘Fotografia. Una exposició etnogràfica’, Mirador, 14 December 1933, 7, and L. Lorenzo Almarza, ‘Exposición José Ortiz Echagüe en los Salones del Sindicato de Iniciativa’, Aragón, February 1934, 34–35.
47
J. Francés, ‘Gentes de hoy y trajes de ayer. Reintegración del español a la fisonomía nacional’, Nuevo Mundo, 27 October 1933.
48
L. I. R. ‘Notas de arte. La interesante exposición fotográfica de Ortiz Echagüe’, La Nación, 12 October 1933, 7.
49
‘Informaciones artísticas. Exposición de fotografías de José Ortiz Echagüe’, La Época, 19 October 1933, 1.
50
Manuel Abril, ‘Ortiz Echagüe, fotógrafo de la tradición’, Blanco y Negro, 22 October 1933, 55–8.
51
See X. M. Núñez Seixas, ed., La construcción de la identidad regional en Europa y España (Siglos XIX y XX), special issue of Ayer, Vol. 64 (2006), 11–231.
52
J. M. Salaverría, ‘Estampas de Vasconia’, ABC, 22 April 1934, 13.
53
Català, ‘Fotografia. Una exposició etnogràfica’, 7.
54
M. Abril, ‘Artes plásticas. De arte popular’, Luz, 17 October 1933, 8–9.
55
J. de la Encina, ‘De arte. Tipos y trajes de España’, El Sol, 29 October 1933, 12.
56
Mendelson, Documenting Spain, 116–18.
57
The foundation decree of the museum is very clear in this regard, referring to ‘the cultural and political debt contracted by the Republic with the Spanish People’ (Gaceta de Madrid, 28 July 1934, 965). The anthropologist Luis de Hoyos, The People’s Museum founder and first director, had sought state support for this project for many years. Both Hoyos and the signers of the decree, Niceto Alcalá Zamora and Filiberto Villalobos González, were liberal Republicans. See P. Manuel Berges Soriano, ‘Museum of the Spanish People’, Anales del Museo Nacional de Antropología, III (1996), 65–88.
58
C. Geertz, The Interpretation of Culture (New York 1973), 9.
59
T. Gervais and G. Morel, La fabrique de l’information visuelle. Photographies et magazines d’actualité (Paris 2015); Kiosk: A History of Photojournalism (Göttingen 2001); M. Frizot and C. de Veigy, Vu: The Story of a Magazine (London 2009); J. M. Sánchez Vigil, Revistas ilustradas en España. Del Romanticismo a la guerra civil (Gijón 2008).
60
C. Alonso, ‘La formación de la conciencia nacional en las primeras revistas ilustradas españolas (1836–1854)’, in A. Gil Novales, ed., La revolución liberal. Congreso sobre la Revolución liberal española en su diversidad peninsular (e insular) y americana (Madrid 2001), 611–34.
61
A. Insúa, ‘Gestos, voces, actos’, Estampa, 3 January 1928.
62
‘Estampa cumple y celebra los dos años’, Estampa, 7 January 1930.
63
Crónica advertisement, Nuevo Mundo, 20 December 1929.
64
Crónica advertisement, Nuevo Mundo, 1 November 1929.
65
Crónica advertisement, Nuevo Mundo, 20 December 1929.
66
Hernández Cano, ‘“Solitarios refugios de efemérides viejas”… ’.
67
A. Valero Martín, ‘El reporterismo literario’, Nuevo Mundo, 31 August 1928.
68
F. ‘Hacer un reportaje no es tan fácil como parece … Pero hay que servir al público, que prefiere, a la vaga literatura del tópico, estas estampas de la vida real’, Crónica, 26 April 1931.
69
‘Escaparate literario’, Nuevo Mundo, 30 June 1933.
70
Ibid.
71
P. Massa, ‘Madrid se pronuncia por la República, con una gravedad, una dignidad cívica y un temple de ánimo realmente admirables’, Crónica, 19 April 1931.
72
P. M., ‘Madrid proclama con indescriptible júbilo la segunda República española’, Crónica, 19 April 1931.
73
Cruz, ‘Pueblo, parapueblo y contrapueblo’, 117.
74
P. Massa, ‘¡La República sobre todo! El Gobierno debe ser inexorable con los que traten de perturbar o derrocar el naciente régimen’, Crónica, 17 May 1931.
75
‘Los sucesos del domingo en Madrid frente a la Unión Monárquica y el “ABC”’, Estampa, 16 May 1931.
76
The image of the rioting rural population was much less positive. The extensive journalistic coverage that these magazines dedicated to the events of Castilblanco (December 1931) and Casas Viejas (January 1931) contributed to creating an image of the Spanish countryside and its inhabitants as conflictive.
77
‘Problemas … Lo que espera de la República el hombre medio, tipo representativo’, Crónica, 17 May 1931.
78
J. Sánchez Rojas, ‘Al término del año. Balance de 1931’, Crónica, 27 December 1931.
79
M. Márquez Padorno, ‘La idea de España en la Segunda República: La escuela’, in A. Morales Moya, J. P. Fusi and A. de Blas Guerrero, eds, Historia de la nación y del nacionalismo español (Barcelona 2013), 725–6.
80
L. G. de Linares and Erik, ‘Las playas de Madrid’, Estampa, 25 June 1932; D. Tapia Bolívar and Cortés, ‘Terrazas de Madrid’, Crónica, 2 July 1933; A. and Videla, ‘Cómo los madrileños de los barrios bajos pasan las calurosas noches de agosto’, Crónica, 21 August 1932; P. M. and Cortés, ‘El adiós al verano … Crítica y elogios de las noches madrileñas que hemos vivido en la calle’, Crónica, 9 October 1932. ‘Ilusiones veraniegas. Madrid, playa de moda’, Crónica, 2 July 1933; A. Lázaro and Montaña, ‘Gente de la calle’, Crónica, 10 December 1933.
81
M. Martín Agacir y Orrios, ‘Una tarde de sol en la Glorieta de Embajadores’, Estampa, 25 March 1933.
82
Ibid.
83
J. Tagg, The Burden of Representation: Essays on Photographies and Histories (Amherst, MA 1988), 10–14.
84
J. de Gredos, ‘Páginas del trabajo. Los camareros de café, su vida y sus anhelos … ’, Crónica, 26 April 1931.
85
‘Cómo han colaborado las mujeres españolas en la proclamación de la República’, Estampa, 25 April 1931; P. Massa, ‘Madrid se pronuncia por la República, con una gravedad, una dignidad cívica y un temple de ánimo realmente admirables’, Crónica, 19 April 1931.
86
F. M. Marqués, ‘Las alegres muchachas de la Gran vía, empleadas de almacenes y modistas, tienen muchos motivos de tristeza y nos exponen sus quejas y sus aspiraciones’, Crónica, 17 May 1931.
87
F. M. Marqués, ‘Páginas del trabajo. Lo que esperan de la República las mujeres que se ganan su vida pobremente y con gran esfuerzo … ’, Crónica, 31 May 1931; id., ‘Páginas del trabajo. Lo que esperan de la República las mujeres que ganan su vida pobremente y con gran esfuerzo … Las planchadoras’, Crónica, 14 June 1931; and id., ‘Páginas del trabajo. Las obreras de una fábrica de pañuelos. Las obreras de una fábrica de galletas’, Crónica, 5 July 1931.
88
L. Conde de Rivera, ‘Crónica en Vigo. Las modistillas viguesas quieren una República de orden, admiran a Ramón Franco y prefieren los hombres morenos’, Crónica, 21 June 1931.
89
L. Conde de Rivera, ‘Crónica en Galicia. Las modistillas coruñesas opinan acerca de la política, del divorcio y del voto femenino’, Crónica, 17 April 1932.
90
P. Massa, ‘Barrios Bajos de Madrid. Vida y milagros de Pepa la de Pinto, verdulera y comadre por la gracia de Dios … ’, Crónica, 31 July 1932.
91
P. Massa, ‘Los humildes … Cómo trabaja una lavandera, de sol a sol, para ganar … ¡cinco pesetas!’, Crónica, 7 August 1932.
92
A. M. Martinez-Sagi, ‘Crónica en Barcelona. Las obreras de Cataluña’, Crónica, 19 March 1933.
93
H. Graham, ‘Community, Nation and State in Republican Spain, 1931–1938’, in C. Mar-Molinero and A. Smith, eds, Nationalism and the Nation in the Iberian Peninsula: Competing and Conflicting Identities (Oxford 1996), 137–8, 141.
94
X. M. Núñez Seixas, ¡Fuera el invasor! Nacionalismos y movilización bélica durante la guerra civil española (1936–1939) (Madrid 2006), 20.
95
X. M. Núñez Seixas, ‘Las izquierdas y la nación durante la guerra civil española (1936–1939)’, in Javier Moreno-Luzón, ed., Izquierdas y nacionalismos en la España contemporánea (Madrid 2011), 203.
96
Núñez Seixas, ¡Fuera el invasor!, 30.
97
Núñez Seixas, ‘Las izquierdas’, 206–7 and 210; S. Juliá, ‘La nación contra el pueblo: dos Españas y … ¿la tercera?’, in Morales Moya, Fusi and De Blas Guerrero, eds, Historia de la nación, 733–51; J. Álvarez Junco, ‘El nacionalismo español como mito movilizador. Cuatro guerras’, in R. Cruz and M. Pérez Ledesma, eds, Cultura y movilización en la España contemporánea (Madrid 1997), 63.
98
R. Martorell, ‘Las mujeres en la lucha’, Crónica, 26 July 1936; Cover, Estampa, 1 August 1936; L. Carnés, ‘Mujeres, alma del pueblo’, Estampa, 1 August 1936; F. Coves, ‘Angelina Martínez, la miliciana que tomó parte en el asalto al Cuartel de la Montaña’, Estampa, 1 August 1936; Cover, Crónica, 2 August 1936; R. Martínez García, ‘Las mujeres en lucha’, Crónica, 2 August 1936; F. de Ontañón, ‘Francisca Solano, heroína de las milicias’, Estampa, 8 August 1936; R. Martorell, ‘Milicianas’, Crónica, 30 August 1936; L. Carnés, ‘También las chicas de servir luchan por el triunfo de la República’, Estampa, 19 September 1936.
99
F. Feliu, ‘Con las milicias en la lucha’, Estampa, 1 August 1936; C de la Rosa, ‘“La motorizada” Valor y disciplina de los milicianos’, Estampa, 8 August 1936; F. Coves, ‘En la intimidad de las milicias’, Estampa, 8 August 1936; L. Hernández Alfonso, ‘Lucha en la Sierra. La vida de los milicianos en el frente de batalla’, Crónica, 9 August 1936.