Colin Firth - extended interview

A longer version of this week's NS interview.

You've campaigned on social issues for years. What sparked your political interest?
Adolescent indignation. I've never grown out of it. My father's balanced and complex reasoning used to drive me insane. I now value it. Also travel, and having questioning parents.

In 1972-73 I was in the States. My father, being a lecturer in American history, sat me in front of the Watergate hearings and took me to hear Senator McGovern speak. My father was the chairman of the local Liberals and took me canvassing.

As a Liberal Democrat supporter, do you feel let down by the decision to form a coalition?
I approached the Lib Dems as an activist. So I didn't exactly feel like throwing confetti when I saw Nick Clegg on the lawn with David Cameron.

Who is your political hero, and why?
I'm always encouraged by people who get more radical as they get older, like Mark Twain and Howard Zinn. Also David Henry Thoreau: I love his undertaking to "live deliberately".

You recently set up Brightwide, a website that showcases political cinema. Why?
When my wife and I screened our documentary, In Prison My Whole Life, at film festivals the response was extraordinary -- particularly among young people. Answers as to how to direct that passion were in short supply. We were being asked, "Where do we march? What do we sign? Who do we join? Who do we write to?" It was all too evident that a 90-minute film had the power to motivate people, but that there was no satisfactory way to harness that motivation.

NGOs often rely on slogans, posters -- and celebrity campaigners -- which, in my experience, have less impact. Brightwide allows one to facilitate the other. The likes of me can shut up and let the stories speak for themselves. Civil society organisations and institutions can direct people towards films to help make their case and the audience can be guided to where the action is. It's supported by Amnesty International, Oxfam and the World Wide Fund for Nature.

What sparked your interest in refugees?
My parents and several grandparents [going back generations] were born in India. My sister was born in Nigeria. We travelled a great deal. It helped give me something of the perspective of the outsider. My mother campaigned for the rights of refugees, some of whom were guests in our house. You can't dismiss people as a political problem once you know them.

What influence can films have on the way we think about these issues?
"Issues" always have personal stories behind them. Film provides intimacy with those stories and a chance to weigh things up without being badgered by attitude. Oscar Wilde enjoyed dialogue because in using more than one voice, more than one point of view, he could take issue with himself. A genuinely good film is never purely polemical. Ninety minutes allows for conflicting points of view.

Can film have a social and political impact?
Yes. The banning of films throughout history, and the rage they can ignite in the press, shows that -- from Battleship Potemkin to Life of Brian. Think of the clamour in the right-wing press against The Wind that Shakes the Barley. I experienced it personally many years ago with a film about the Falklands war called Tumbledown. There were cries for it to be banned before it was screened. It was discussed in the Commons. Did it change anything? By itself, I doubt it. But I run into people who remember it and its impact on them. That's why we're screening a thematic film festival during Refugee Week.

Which films have that kind of impact for you?
The Grapes of Wrath, The Battle of Algiers. Most of all, Come and See, a Soviet-endorsed film by Elem Klimov. Currently, The Age of Stupid and The End of the Line, both of which you can see on Brightwide. I remember, when I was about eight, kids in the playground talking about All Quiet on the Western Front. Some had become rather sanctimonious and were lecturing the boys playing war games that they didn't "know what war is".

Which directors do you admire who work in this way, and on these subjects?
All those on Brightwide, obviously. That's why they're there: Michael Winterbottom, Franny Armstrong, Gini Reticker, Rupert Murray, John Akomfrah, Bahman Ghobadi. Also Lynne Ramsay, Antonia Bird, Nick Broomfield, John Crowley, Ken Loach, Mark Evans . . .

What do you most object to about how we respond to refugees in the UK?
I set up Brightwide so I wouldn't have to subject people to my own views. But if I were to say something, I'd mention the demonisation of refugees by the right-wing press. Labour and the Tories have let the tabloids frame their immigration policies. I'd say something about the lack of legal representation. The calculated impoverishment of asylum-seekers. The appalling practice of seizing and locking up asylum-seeking families in conditions proven to wreck their mental health even though it's known that families don't abscond. I'd also remind the new government that it has pledged to stop child detention, which needs to happen quickly.
But thankfully I don't have to say any of that. I can just urge you to go to Brightwide and watch films like Moving to Mars: a Million Miles from Burmaand No One Knows About Persian Cats.

Immigration became an important topic in the recent election campaign. How did you feel about the different parties' approaches?
The current system incentivises black-market labour and human trafficking. The amnesty would have made complete sense -- on both economic and compassionate grounds. It was very courageous of Nick Clegg and the Lib Dems to defend such an electorally costly idea during the election. I think they were punished for it.

What do you think about the proposed cap on immigration?
It's a pity for us. There are so many arguments about the figures relating to net contributions made by migrants, that it seems clear that people choose the maths which best suits their ideology or prejudice. By that reasoning -- and not being an economist -- I tend to go for the countless studies which find economic benefit in immigration. The humanitarian argument holds the balance.

Is our political/media culture a healthy one?
I wish the establishment was more courageous about the reactionary press. But I spend enough time in Italy to be thankful for what we have.

You have played a wide range of roles. What draws you to a particular part?
I love the quotation from Miles Davis, "Don't play what you know -- play what you don't know." Easier said than done. Typecasting always beckons.

You were nominated for an Oscar for your role in A Single Man. What was the motivation for doing that role?
Good tale. No self-pity. It seemed an exhilarating risk. Tom Ford is a very compelling individual.

Do you feel like you are still trying to shed the legacy of Mr Darcy?
People increasingly ask me about Mr Darcy as if he's dandruff. My memory isn't good enough to have any real feelings on the matter. I imagine people with dandruff are also blissfully unaware of what they're carrying around.

If you hadn't been an actor, what would you have done, or be doing?
I'd be a squeegee merchant on the Euston Road.

Will you always be an actor, or will you try something else?
I've tried writing. I'm still trying -- I've published one short story in 50 years. That gives you an idea of my pace.

Do the arts get enough support in the UK?
If you ask me, you'll only get special pleading. Gordon Brown pledged £45m to the BFI last year, which was significant. But there needs to be more to enable them to function fully. Anthony Minghella and Amanda Nevill fought very hard to get those funds in order to build a new Film Centre in London. I very much hope this will happen. It will be the first major, stand-alone, new cultural building in London for a very long time. It should be a proper home for the film industry, the BFI London Film Festival, the nation's film collections and their year-round programmes.
I'd love to see an international beacon for film in Britain. It's rather surprising that we don't already have such a thing.

Where is home?
London.

What would you like to forget?
A poor memory is a very good anaesthetic.

Is there a plan?
Not really. I'm sure you can tell.

Are we all doomed?
Oh, I think so -- but we ought to drag it out as long as possible.

Sophie Elmhirst is features editor of the New Statesman

ALEXEI FATEEV/ALAMY
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The Catalan cauldron

The prospect of the break-up of Spain poses yet another challenge to Europe.

As Britain prepares to mark the centenary of the bloodiest battle in the First World War, the Somme, in July, Spain is bracing itself for an even more traumatic anniversary. In July 2016 it will be 80 years since the start of a civil war that tore the country apart and continues to divide it today. In the four decades since the return of democracy in the mid-1970s, Spaniards slowly inched towards rejecting the extreme violence of the Francoist right (and elements of the opposing left) as well as acceptance of various federal arrangements to accommodate the national sentiments of the Basques and Catalans, whose aspirations Franco had so brutally suppressed. In recent years, however, this consensus has been called fundamentally into question, with severe potential consequences not only for the unity of Spain, but the cohesion of the European Union.

On 27 October 2015, after the Catalan elections, the new parliament in Barcelona passed a declaration requesting the start of a formal secession process from Spain, to be in place in 18 months. The immediate reaction of Spain’s prime minister, Mariano Rajoy, was to announce that the state was entitled “to use any available judicial and political mechanism contained in the constitution and in the laws to defend the sovereignty of the Spanish people and of the general interest of Spain”. The preamble to the constitution proclaims the Spanish nation’s desire to “protect all Spaniards and the peoples of Spain in exercising their ­human rights, their cultures and traditions, languages and institutions”. Probably the most disputed articles are 2 and 8, which state, respectively, that “the constitution is based upon the indissoluble unity of the Spanish nation, common and indivisible patria of all Spaniards” and that “the army’s mission is to guarantee the sovereignty and independence of Spain, to defend its territorial integrity and the constitutional set-up”. Rajoy’s implication was clear: the unity of the country would be maintained, if necessary by military means.

It was Madrid, however, that broke with the federal consensus some years ago and thus boosted secessionist sentiment in Catalonia. José María Aznar’s government (1996-2004) failed to respond to demands for greater autonomy for Catalonia, at a time when secession was not even mentioned. This led to an increasing awareness among Catalans that the federal transfer system within Spain left them with an annual deficit of 8 per cent of Catalonia’s GDP because of the financial arrangements established by the Spanish state, an issue aggravated by the effect of the global financial crisis. Catalan nationalism thus became a matter of not only the heart, but also the pocket. Even more important was the Spanish legal challenge to the Statute of Autonomy of Catalonia 2006 and its subsequent dilution, after it had been sanctioned by the Catalan parliament, and by both the Spanish congress of deputies and the senate, not to mention the Catalan people in a legally binding referendum.

According to the Spanish high court of justice, some of the statute’s content did not comply with the Spanish constitution. This outraged many Catalans, who could not understand how the newly approved statute – after following all the procedures and modifications requested by Spain’s political institutions and constitution – could still be challenged. Four years later, the Spanish high court finally delivered its verdict on 28 June 2010. It removed vital points from the Statute of Autonomy 2006 and declared them non-constitutional. All this led to a revival of Catalan nationalism, culminating in a symbolic, non-binding referendum in November 2014, which was boycotted by opponents and produced a majority of 80 per cent in favour of independence.

The roots of this antagonism go deep, to the civil war that broke out on 17-18 July 1936 when some sectors of the army rebelled against the legitimate government of the Second Republic. The rebels rejected democracy, the party system, separation between church and state, and the autonomy of Catalonia, the Basque Country and Galicia. Their primary objective was to re-establish “order” by eliminating all vestiges of communism and anarchism, then quite strong in some parts of Spain.

High on the list of General Franco’s targets was Catalan nationalism, which had been growing since the late 19th century. The industrialisation of Catalonia and the Basque Country left the most economically developed parts of the Spanish state politically subject to the less prosperous Castile. By the end of the 19th century and influenced by German Romanticism, la Renaixença – a movement for national and cultural renaissance – prompted demands for Catalan autonomy, first in the form of regionalism
and later in demands for a federal state.

Catalan nationalism did not emerge as a unified phenomenon. Diverse political ideologies and cultural influences gave rise to various types of nationalism, from the conservative nationalism of Jaime Balmes to the federalism of Francesc Pi i Margall, to the Catholic nationalism of Bishop Torres i Bages and the Catalan Marxism of Andreu Nin, among others. Catalonia enjoyed some autonomy under the administrative government of the Mancomunitat or “commonwealth” from 1913 onwards. This was halted by the 1923 coup d’état of the dictator Miguel Primo de Rivera. Autonomy was granted again during the Second Spanish Republic from 1931-39 – but abolished by Francisco Franco’s decree of 5 April 1938.

Franco’s victory led to the suppression of Catalan political institutions, the banning of the Catalan language and proscription of all the symbolic elements of Catalan identity, from the national flag (the Senyera) to the national anthem (“Els Segadors”). In February 1939, the institutions of the autonomous Generalitat went into exile in France. In 1940 the Gestapo arrested the president of the Generalitat, Lluís Companys, and handed him over to Spanish officials. He was interrogated and tortured in Madrid, then sent to Barcelona, where he was court-martialled and executed at Montjuïc Castle on 15 October 1940. The most important representatives of the democratic parties banned by the regime went into exile, or were imprisoned or executed. The authoritarian state designed by Franco crushed dissent and used brute power to suppress the historical nations included within its territory. The regime’s aim was to annihilate the Catalans and the Basques as nations.

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After almost 40 years of Franco’s dictatorship, Catalonia recovered its government, the Generalitat, in 1977 – before the drafting of the Spanish constitution in 1978 – and sanctioned a new statute of autonomy in 1979. The 2006 statute was expected, at the time, to update and expand Catalans’ aspiration for further devolution within Spain: never secession.

At present, a renewed nostalgia and enthusiasm for Francoism can be found among some sections of the Spanish right. One of the main challenges of the newly democratic government from the mid-1970s onwards was to get rid of the symbols of Francoism that had divided Spaniards between “winners” and “losers” in the civil war. It was only in 2007 that the then prime minister, José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero, guided the Law of Historic Memory through parliament with the aim of removing hundreds of Fascist symbols reminiscent of the Franco era from public buildings. It also sought to make reparations to victims of the civil war and the ensuing dictatorship.

There still exist hundreds of other references to the Fascist regime, however, with streets, colleges and roads named after Franco and his generals. The most controversial of these is the Valle de los Caídos (“Valley of the Fallen”), near Madrid, commissioned by Franco as his final resting place. It supposedly honours the civil war dead, but is primarily a monument to the general and his regime, housing the graves of Franco and José Antonio Primo de Rivera, the founder of the fascist Falange political party. Roughly 450,000 people visit it every year, and while most of them are foreign tourists, groups of Falangists and supporters of the old regime who come to pay tribute to the dictator have frequented it. Nostalgics for Francoism, though still a small minority within modern Spain, are becoming vociferous. They find common ground with far-right-wing conservatism, particularly in their shared aversion to federalism.

On 3 August last year Artur Mas, the then president of Catalonia, called an extraordinary parliamentary election after all attempts to negotiate and agree on a legally binding referendum with the Spanish government failed. Supporters of independence immediately announced that the forthcoming Catalan elections would be regarded as a plebiscite on independence.

On a turnout of more than three-quarters of the electorate, supporters of outright independence gained 48 per cent of the vote, while those backing a unitary state secured 39 per cent. On 9 November 2015 the Catalan parliament formally declared the start of the process leading to building an independent Catalan state in the form of a republic. It also proclaimed the beginning of a participative, open, integrating and active citizens’ constituent process to lay the foundations for a future Catalan constitution. The Catalan government vowed to move forward with its secession process. Immediately, the Spanish Constitutional Court suspended the Catalan law setting out a path to independence and warned that defiance could lead to criminal charges.

Worse still for Madrid, secessionism is gaining strength not only in Catalonia but also in the Basque Country, whose premier, Iñigo Urkullu, demands a “legal consultation” on the northern region’s future in Spain. He supports a new statute for the Basque Country and defends its status as a nation in the EU. Similarly to Catalonia, the Basque Country has a distinct language and culture, and benefits from the so-called concierto económico, an advantageous financial deal with the Spanish state.

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The Spanish government’s refusal to engage constructively with Catalan nationalism contrasts markedly with London’s more relaxed and ultimately more successful response to Scottish nationalist aspirations. The “Edinburgh Agreement” between the British Prime Minister and the then first minister of Scotland to allow a binding referendum on Scottish independence stands in sharp contrast to the Spanish government’s outright opposition to a similar vote in Catalonia. Basques and Catalans find deaf ears regarding further devolution and binding referendums on self-determination. This highlights the distance between various conceptions of democracy that coexist inside the European Union, rooted in the diverse political cultures of nations with varying historical backgrounds.

All this matters, not only to Spain but to the EU, because it is part of a broad trend across the continent. In mainland Europe, demands for self-determination are running strong in Flanders as well as parts of Spain. In turn, tensions between Italy and Austria over control of South Tyrol (Trentino Alto Adige, to the Italians) remain high, as do demands advanced by the South Tyrol­ean secessionist movement. Bavarian regionalism is critical of the present German (and European) political order. Further to that, modern Venetian nationalism and its long-standing demands for independence have prompted a renewal of Venetian as a language taught in schools and spoken by almost four million people.

Matters are now coming to a head. Catalonia and Spain are in flux following two inconclusive elections. In January, after a prolonged stand-off, the sitting Catalan president, Artur Mas, made way for a fellow nationalist, Carles Puigdemont. He was the first to take the oath of office without making the traditional oath of loyalty to the Spanish constitution and the king. Felipe VI, in turn, did not congratulate Puigdemont.

The new president has announced that he plans to draw up a constitution, to be voted on in a referendum “to constitute the Catalan Republic” at the end of an 18-month consultation process. Puigdemont’s strategy envisages not a dramatic unilateral declaration
of independence, but a more gradual process of disconnection in constant dialogue with the Spanish government and Catalan political parties. Let no one be deceived by this “softly-softly” approach: it is designed to culminate, in a year and a half, perhaps sooner, in a vote on establishing a separate, sovereign state of Catalonia.

Meanwhile, Spanish politics are in flux. The elections to the Cortes on 20 December 2015 resulted in a victory for Conservatism, but also the most fragmented Spanish parliament ever and, as yet, no government. Almost the only thing the Spanish parties can agree on is opposition to Catalan independence, yet even here there are divisions over whether more autonomy should be granted and what response to make to unilateral moves by the Catalans.

The stakes are high for both sides. By pressing too hard, too early, Catalan nationalists may provoke Madrid. This would be a mistake. Strategy is important and recent events in Catalonia will weaken the Catalans’ democratic, peaceful and legitimate desire to hold a referendum on independence. Likewise, a heavy-handed response from Madrid will not only destroy the residual bonds between centre and periphery in Spain, but put the central government in the dock internationally. A confrontation will also cut across the only possible solution to this and all other national conflicts within the eurozone, which is full continental political union. Full union would render the separation of Catalonia from Spain as irrelevant to the functioning of the EU, and the inhabitants of both areas, as the separation of West Virginia from Virginia proper in the United States today.

In a nightmare scenario, radicalisation and unrest could emerge in Catalonia, with division between Catalans and memories of the Spanish Civil War coming to the fore. In this context, it might become very difficult to prevent violence.

This is the last thing that Brussels wants to hear as it grapples with the euro crisis, Russian territorial revisionism, Islamist terror, the migrant question and the prospect of Brexit. A meltdown in Catalonia will create dilemmas for Europe, starting from problems with Schengen, and raise questions about continued membership of the EU. It will also work against Catalans’ expectations of receiving EU support in their quest for independence, as turmoil in Europe will prompt nation states to close ranks. The EU will not be expected to intervene, because this scenario would – at least initially – be defined as an “internal affair of Spain”. Conflict between Barcelona and Madrid would shatter one of Europe’s biggest member states.

In that event, the peninsula will become the hottest point in an emerging “arc of crisis” across the southern flank of the EU, stretching from Portugal across Spain, an Italy struggling along with everything else to cope with the flow of migrants, the troubled Balkans, to Greece, which is perpetually perturbed. This highlights yet another flaw in the EU. It has no institutional framework for dealing with Catalan demands to become a nation within the Union, or those of other populations. Merely insisting on Spanish state sovereignty will not make the problem go away for Brussels, or for Europe as a whole. This is a potential matter of life and death not only for Spaniards and Catalans, but perhaps for the EU itself.

Brendan Simms is the director of the Forum on Geopolitics at the University of Cambridge and president of the Project for Democratic Union Montserrat Guibernau is a visiting scholar in the Department of Politics and International Studies at Cambridge and a member of the Forum on Geopolitics

This article first appeared in the 21 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Shakespeare 400 years Iater