Exemplary Injustice in Spain by Jeff Diteman
“Do we throw people in jail for three years for insults?”
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Carlos Cano Navarro is a brilliant young man with every prospect of a bright, productive future. His gentle demeanor is well known to his many friends in Granada; his affable charm comes paired with a keen wit that ferrets out illogic and never ceases to insist on honesty and justice. His dedication to what is right and beneficial is exemplified by his choice to pursue a career in medicine—he has just finished his medical studies—and in his participation in the civic life of the city and country he loves. Of all the people I met during the few months I spent in Spain in 2011, Carlos was the kindest to me, the most willing to share his time and to make me feel a sense of friendship and belonging.
He is, by any reckoning, an exemplary person.
How terrible is the irony, then, that the authorities have chosen to pursue an exemplary punishment against this young man.
Carlos now stands convicted and sentenced, based on bizarre legal grounds, to spend three years of his young life in prison for a crime he did not commit. The law he is convicted of breaking, Article 315 of the Spanish Penal Code, dates from 1995. Its main purpose is to protect workers and unions from repressive anti-strike activities by their employers. Its first two clauses forbid anyone from impeding or limiting the practice of union freedom or the right to strike, and lay out severe punishments for this. That such a law should be deployed as a tool for oppressing pickets seems perfectly Orwellian. In fact, nowadays, the law is used more frequently for that purpose than for protecting workers’ rights to organize and demonstrate. How can this be? Well, the third clause of the law states that the same punishments shall be given to anyone who coerces others to start or continue a strike. That is, it is illegal for bosses to crush strikes, but it is also illegal for anyone to force anyone else to strike.
It is this third clause was applied to prosecute Carlos, along with two other protesters, for their presence at an informative political action during the General Strike of March 29th, 2012. One of these protesters has been absolved due to the plaintiff’s inability to identify him; the other, a 56-year-old woman named Carmen, now faces the same punishment as Carlos.
The General Strike was quite widespread. According to this article, at least 800,000 people participated in it. Over 20 of the country’s most important labor unions, along with the students’ union and the 15-M movement, participated that day to protest the labor reforms that had been implemented to make the labor market more flexible. As the reform of 2010 and repeated austerity measures had already done, these labor reforms heaped the burden of the financial crisis on the poor so that financiers, politicians, and landlords could weather the storm unscathed.
The people of Spain are not stupid. They are not suckers. They see through the lies. At the General Strike, they came out en masse to show that they are tired of the abuses of plutocrats and the empty promises of politicians. They are tired of foreclosures, of houses sitting empty while people are homeless.
The event in question seems to have gone like this: most establishments in Granada kept their doors closed during the strike, but some did not. Protesters visited many of those that remained open in order to distribute information on the General Strike. About 30-40 participants entered the bar La Champagnería, where a few people were eating and drinking. The protesters told the staff and the clientele about the strike and the reasons for it. The owner of the bar decided to call the police, who did nothing at the scene, but followed the protesters as they went along, and later detained a few of them.
Carlos’s name was among those taken, and apparently selected at random for prosecution.
The bar owner claims that she was threatened by the protesters with words like, “We know who you are, we’re coming for you, we’re going to come back and fuck up your business, strikebreaker, watch your back from now on…” No witnesses corroborate that these particular words were said to the proprietress; her testimony alone was admitted as sufficient. Two points on this:
1) Anyone who said such things needs some lessons in diplomacy. Threatening a small business owner is no way to win people over to a cause.
Such behavior is deplorable, and should perhaps be illegal, but it in no way merits a punishment of three years in prison.
2) Carlos Cano did not say these words. The judgment against him makes no claim that he said these words. It states that these words were said, and
that he put up some stickers. It also, vaguely, mentions that he “insulted” the proprietress.
Do we throw people in jail for three years for insults?
Did these protesters disrupt the daily life of the city of Granada? Perhaps. Did they coerce anyone into joining them, or otherwise forcibly prevent workers from doing their job? They did not.
The final, and greater question here is: should it even be possible to impose such harsh penalties against political dissidents for such activities? In this context, the notion of “coercion” is rather vague—if La Champagnería did not actually close for business that day, clearly no one forced it to close. All popular social movements rely on self-promotion in order to gain steam and inform their neighbors. Since there cannot be a law against inciting others to protest, the authorities are punishing that act with a law against coercing others to protest, even when no coercion has taken place.
Why would the authorities feel a need to pursue a disproportionately severe punishment against a few random protesters? The most obvious interpretation is that they wish to send a message to all protesters that public displays of dissent will be dealt with harshly. My sources inform me that the District Attorney requested an “exemplary sentence” against Carlos and Carmen.
Facts About the 15-M Movement
In order to understand the stakes of this sentence, it is useful to have a few facts about the 15-M Movement more broadly, which began activities on May 15th, 2011. The 15-M protests have focused on opposition to the corruption of politicians and financiers, to bank bailouts and simultaneous cuts to social programs. Similar protests popped up all over Europe, loosely inspired by the courage of the Arab Spring, and in turn lending inspiration to what became the Occupy Movement in the United States.
These movements in Europe and the United States have been marginalized and misrepresented by the media, and avowedly have had a hard time formulating a coherent agenda for social change. As is often the case with radical movements, there’s no consensus on the details of what is to be done, but the broad strokes of 15-M’s message should be uncontroversial to anyone but an entrenched plutocrat: give us our promised democratic society; we are tired of politicians who are bought and sold by corporate interests; we are tired of governments bailing out banks while letting their people starve, and of a system that protects the privileges of the wealthy and ignores the plight of its poor, its workers, children, veterans, and retired people.
Granada is a city of sharp contrasts, where pensioners, businesspeople, tourists, students, gypsies, immigrants, and visitors from many nations generally coexist in a messy but amiable harmony. It has palpable ties to its history, with the Albaicín standing as one of the few remaining examples of Moorish residential architecture in Andalusia, and the Alhambra looming in its majesty nearby. The streets are full of graffiti, some of which is beautiful, some of which is thought provoking, and some hideous. The spirit of Lorca haunts the place—it is impossible to hear the song of the nightingales at dusk without thinking of him, his beauty and his sacrifice.
Granada is not a city where one can expect a lot of peace and quiet. It bustles, natters, buzzes, sings. Streets full of shouting drunks are the norm four nights a week. The commercial district fills on the weekends with families, and children can be seen with their parents in the tapas bars until well into the evening.
It is not a peaceful city, but it is not a savage city either. Life is lived publicly there.
Every year, Granada, along with the rest of Spain, is lambasted for two straight weeks by the festival of Semana Santa (yes, for those who haven’t experienced it: Holy Week is preceded by an anticipatory week of revelry). The tapas strips bustle with people who begin drinking at noon, many of them shouting and singing. Troupes of amateur horn players wander the streets as late as 3 a.m., blasting cacophonous dirges for the Savior.
If you’re a light sleeper like me, even earplugs won’t guarantee a good night’s sleep in these circumstances. But I would never wish to see those people silenced, annoying as they might be. I do not share their fervor, but I love the fact that they have it, and I love even more their right to express it. The social contract of a free society requires us to tolerate our neighbors’ beliefs, and belief is nothing without expression.
If you’re still not convinced that Carlos and Carmen’s punishment is political in nature, try this little thought game: imagine that 40 passionate Catholics walk into a bar, celebrating Holy Week and inviting people to join them. They put up propaganda, sing songs, and don’t buy anything. Maybe a few of them get into an argument with the owner, who really just wishes they would leave, which, ultimately and without any violence, they do.
When the incident comes to court, a couple of those confirmed as having been present at the incident are convicted of religious coercion. They are sentenced to three years in prison plus heavy fines.
Would you say that this is fair?
Or would you assume that the judge had an axe to grind?
Human rights advocates worldwide need to pay attention to this case, not only for the sake of Carmen and Carlos, but also for Spain’s future as a free country, and Europe’s standing as a bastion of civil liberties. If individuals can be allotted felony-type punishments for simply being present at a protest, the rights to peaceful assembly and political dissent are gravely threatened. When something like this arises, it’s an occasion to ask ourselves what kind of society we want to live in. Regardless of your political inclinations, I hope that we can all agree that political persecution of this sort is unjust, unfair, and generally a bad idea.
Jeff Diteman (left), with Carlos Cano Navarro
Luckily, I’m not a lawyer, judge, or even a real journalist, so I can admit my biases freely: I am really personally fond of Carlos. He took me under his wing when I lived in Granada, invited me to gatherings with his friends and family, brought deep significance and great conversations to my experience in Spain. He’s one of the only vegetarians I met there, and it’s clear that this choice is based on his ethical convictions, not some faddish presumption. He brought me out to a work-share farm for a day, where we spent hours doing the backbreaking work of weeding a garlic field. He is one of the most upstanding, genuine, thoughtful people I’ve ever met.
I like Carlos so much that I painted a picture of him playing guitar with his girlfriend at midnight in a park.
I like Carlos so much that I spent the day of May 31st, a miserable wreck after learning about his sentence. That was my mom’s birthday. This is what happens when the state persecutes innocent people. It ruins old ladies’ birthdays. It ruins everything.
A nation that imprisons people for engaging in non-violent political actions is on a horrible course. The people of Spain know this, and that is why they are coming out in great numbers to petition for Carlos and Carmen’s freedom. It is why 200 people have signed a document of self-implication in solidarity with them. It is why the public defender of Andalusia has taken an interest in the case.
Ultimately, it is why, if, despite all the outcry, the State persists in this lunacy, people will never give up the struggle to end political repression. There is now a push to change the wording of this law so that it cannot be used in this manner anymore. Only a few legal avenues remain. One possibility is that the constitutional court will find in favor of the accused. That appeal is being filed this week. In case that doesn't work, as a final resort, Carmen and Carlos are both appealing for a royal pardon. Carmen's request for suspension of her sentence, pending the royal pardon appeal, has been granted until July 31st. Carlos, however, could be ordered to start serving his sentence any day now.
Like all countries torn apart by political strife, Spain needs healing, patience, transparency, and open dialogue to overcome its divisions, to discredit the corrupt, and to implement the sort of reforms that will restore economic justice and social harmony. It does not need to lock up innocent people, to intimidate activists into silence.
I sincerely hope that this case will be taken to constitutional court, that the law will be changed, so that Carmen can go back to her daily life and Carlos can get back to his nascent medical career.
To the concerned people of Spain—you are not alone. Your friends in the rest of the world are taking notice, and we cherish your rights as deeply as our own.
To the authorities, I implore you to do what needs to be done to make this situation right.
To Carlos, whenever you get a chance to read this: un abrazo, amigazo. Espero verte en libertad cuanto antes.
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If you enjoyed this piece, consider reading another great op/ed article by Jeff Diteman, entitled: "Unsafe in Idaho's Anti-Gay Climate," here.
To help spread the word via Twitter, use these hashtags when you link to this article: #libertadcarmenycarlos and #stoprepresion
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Jeff Diteman is a polyartist, translator, and linguist now residing in Southern Vermont.
His online portfolio can be found here.
Photos 3-6 depicted above are credited to Pedro Cano.