If you’re Spanish, today’s Fiesta Nacional de España celebrations might be defined by how you feel about the national flag – or your willingness to wear a nifty red-and-yellow bracelet. A brief history lesson before we start accessorising: while the holiday is meant to be dedicated to national unity, its origin has become a point of contention thanks to Cristóbal Colón (Christopher Columbus), whose arrival in the Caribbean on 12 October was christened Hispanic Day. But the holiday’s imperialist roots are only part of the debate.
Brash displays of nationalism have long been a touchy subject for Spain. In the years that followed the end of the Franco dictatorship, flag waving and other displays of red-and-yellow nationalism were mainly left to former regime apologists. For many, the flag remains a right-wing relic. The event’s centrepiece is a military parade overseen by the royal family and government officials, which predictably causes polarised fervour from the sidelines. But this is no ordinary year: Spain is in the early stages of a heated election campaign.
Not everyone who loves España, however, needs to be lumped in with a clan of ancient extremists. Enter the pulsera de España – or the diminutive pulserita – which has, since the 1990s, established itself as the ultimate sartorial signifier. What do wearers of these red-and-yellow bracelets want you to know? Any sweeping interpretation is admittedly highly subjective and probably reductive. But the basic message is that they love their country, that their country is the best and that they are protagonists in their country’s success story. You know, that standard patriotic schtick.
Most of those who sport hints of patriotism around their wrists are conservative but not extremist. For many, it’s a material expression of moderate love, though the rise of Spain’s far-right party, Vox, has been recolouring the political conversation. The party’s penchant for overstated exhibitions of old-hat nationalism has meant that wrapping the country’s colours around any part of your body has once again become politically charged. In the current climate, brandishing one of these bracelets, however subtle, is now a way of thumping your chest about the parts of the country that you love, while raising your clenched fist at the parts – or people – you don’t.
Even in sport – one of the few battlegrounds where euphoric flag waving is permissible – not everyone is singing from the same hymn sheet. If you watched last summer’s Fifa World Cup, you might have wondered why Spanish players stood tight-lipped before each match. This wasn’t a silent protest or a collective spell of amnesia. Spain’s national anthem remains lyric-free simply because the country’s 17 regions haven’t reached a consensus on a unifying verse.
Ahead of the country’s November elections, various versions of España are being tabled, exaggerated, argued over, compared or cautioned about. Some of these national visions are simplified portraits of a past that never really existed, while others attempt to stride towards a future that reconciles the country’s complex present. Everyone can probably agree that they want the best for their nation but they just have different ways of showing it.
Spain’s fraught relationship with its pulseritas suggests that the country has a lot of work to do. But as a fashion choice, these little bracelets are still a more prudent alternative to other national-dress choices. Perhaps all Spaniards can agree that wearing the flag as a cape is a thread too far.
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