In recent decades, Basque culture has recovered for its popular heritage characters and traditions that were not only on the verge of being lost in the drawer of history, but also disappeared completely. The case of rural carnivals is especially paradigmatic. Common to other cultural expressions that are manifested throughout the European context and linked to a temporal thread that links them with past rites, they resurfaced in the 70s and their strength in recent years has been increasing, to the point that massification and the denaturation of their essence are the threats they face today.
The joaldunak of Ituren and Zubieta, the zamaltzain of Zuberoa, characters like Miel Otxin and Ziripot, linked to the Lanz carnival or the hartza (bear) that stars in the festivities in Arizkun or Markina-Xemein have become recognizable and representative characters of the Basque popular culture, or if you prefer, Basque Navarra. In a globalized context that tends toward uniformity, traditions that were once despised and abandoned emerge as authentic cultural expressions, spectacular in some cases, capable of attracting visitors with genuine experiences.
“What has happened has been a miracle, since in many places they disappeared; In Zalduondo, for example, they completely disappeared and today they bring together many people. Centuries ago we took the path of globalization and at one point we realized that we were abandoning our soul. Fortunately, we have been tenacious when it comes to taking care of our culture or our language, and we have been able to keep them alive or even, in cases like that of some rural carnivals, to recover them once they disappeared,” says Félix Muguruza, philologist and researcher in topics related to anthropology and ethnography.
In his opinion, one of the keys to this second life of rural carnivals in the Basque cultural context lies in the first boost they received after Franco’s rule, an effort linked to other dynamics such as the revitalization of the Basque language. “The church had always had carnivals in focus, it was very critical, and so was the civil power. However, the Franco regime went further and directly chose to prohibit them, with very specific exceptions such as the Tolosa carnival,” he adds.
The writer and ethnography researcher Aitor Ventureira, however, establishes a clear differentiation between celebrations like the one in Tolosa and the colorful rural winter masquerades. The first, much more linked to the Roman Saturnalia and the lags before Lent, can be considered, at most, distant relatives of rural carnivals.
“We are talking about Basque winter masquerades that are common to those celebrated throughout Europe. Perhaps the most differential characteristic in the Basque case is that its revitalization began earlier than in other places and that it has claimed more decisively. The effort that is being made now in Cantabria or Galicia has been made since the 70s,” says Ventureira.
In this author’s opinion, the temporal thread of those rural carnivals that are celebrated throughout Europe dates back to the Neolithic, “a time when there was a much closer connection with nature.” “We must think of communities totally linked to nature and that ritualize moments of change. Winter was a dark time, when nature is asleep. At this time of year, however, the sun begins to gain ground. These are transit rituals that symbolize an awakening of nature,” he explains.
This thesis is shared by most experts, although other researchers, such as the Navarrese anthropologist José Antonio Urbeltz, have clarified in their publications that the objective of these rituals was not so much to awaken nature as to conspire against the fear of plagues and insects, a matter of life or death for farmers. This author, in any case, agrees in underlining the Neolithic nature of these manifestations and their connection to a much broader European context.
This point, in fact, does not allow discussion in the opinion of Aitor Ventureira: “The hartza, the bear that we see in Markina or, already in Navarra, in Arizkun, Alsasua or Ituren, we see it in celebrations throughout Europe. Our carnivals share many aspects with others celebrated from Portugal to the Balkans. To give another example, the joaldunak of Ituren and Zubieta, who have become very popular in Basque culture, look very similar to the zamarracos of Cantabria and other cowbell bearers that we see in Bulgaria. “Europe was already connected since the Neolithic, and that motivation to awaken the earth and drive away evil spirits was the same in the south of Portugal as in the Balkans.”
The recovery of these masquerades has allowed the temporal thread that is lost in European prehistory to reach this beginning of the 21st century, that “miracle” to which Muguruza alludes.
However, this recovery process, exemplary in some aspects, also has its B side. “In some cases, we are staying in the spectacle, in the showiness… We do not see what is there, that connection with nature, with the beginning of the year… The issue of overcrowding also worries me and, in fact, I have stopped going to some carnivals so as not to contribute to that dynamic,” explains Felix Muguruza.
In this section, he recognizes that he moves in contradiction: “On the one hand, it seems to me that we do not give the importance that they have to such ancient rituals. They could be like Christmas and a calendar with the most relevant carnivals should be published. On the other hand, I see that there is a risk that they will become overcrowded and that they will end up becoming denatured.”
Ventureira shares this vision: “I have seen images of the Ituren carnival celebrated between six people, and today, however, there is hardly any space for the joaldunak.”
These celebrations, not in vain, still offer popular, spectacular and authentic cultural expressions with an enormous capacity of attraction. Lanz, in the Navarrese valley of Ultzama, is the paradigmatic example of both this risk of overcrowding and the exceptional revitalization they have experienced.
Its carnivals stopped being held after the Civil War and, after almost 30 years of absence, they were recovered in 1964 for a No-Do documentary. The anthropologist and historian Julio Caro Baroja asked the authorities for a special permit and the people of Lanz, with many doubts, came together to reconstruct “the carnival ritual.” Six decades later, they are an Asset of Cultural Interest that attracts thousands of people, and their characters, Miel Otxin, Zaldiko or Ziripot, are part of the popular imagination.
The joaldunak of Ituren and Zubieta, meanwhile, have become a representative element of Basque culture that appears in other popular festivals, in sporting events and even in political demonstrations. The colorful masquerades of Zuberoa, a symbol of the territory, have also transcended their natural space and the time in which their protagonists could be enjoyed.
“It is okay for characters linked to these masquerades to appear in other celebrations, through dance groups, but as long as their origin is well explained. The same goes for transmission to children. It is important that they are taught these traditions, but without distorting what they are,” adds Ventureira. Again, the risk of denaturalization and, above all, the fear of dying of success after having managed, with great effort, to revive after 40 years of virtual disappearance.
