‘Galician identity and literature are deeply rooted in land,’ award-winning Galician writer explains

Every May 17, the autonomous region of Galicia, Spain, interrupts its routine to pay tribute to its precious language and literature. Galician Literature Day, celebrated since 1963, is not just a commemorative date, but a declaration of principles. In a community where culture has always been an act of resistance, remembering and creation, celebrating those who write – and sing – in Galician reaffirms a rich, complex and constantly changing collective identity. With approximately 3,000,000 speakers mainly concentrated in the northeast of the Iberian peninsula, modern-day Galicia serves as an anchor of identity in a world that views multilingualism as an obstacle to progress rather than a means of empowerment. In 2025, the day was dedicated to historic cantareiras (folk singers) from different regions of Galicia: the sisters Adolfina and Rosa Casás Rama (Cerceda), Eva Castiñeira (Muxía) and the group Pandereiteiras de Mens (Malpica de Bergantiños): Prudencia Garrido Ameijende, Asunción Garrido Ameijende and Manuela Lema Villar. Cantareiras are a genre of folk music sung by women and accompanied only by tambourines. Galicia is, in many ways, an exemplary exception within the European geo-cultural map. In the theoretical framework that I developed with Sebastián Moreno Barreneche, geo-cultural identities signify a belonging to a cultural entity anchored by territory, and can take different forms: national, subnational, supranational, or transnational. The case of Galicia demonstrates how an identity anchored in land can be built with a multifaceted outlook: a living language of its own, a literature that functions as a symbolic and emotional repository, and a diaspora that has managed to take Galician culture beyond the Atlantic without diluting its essence. Far from being encapsulated in a static concept of nation or folklore, Galician culture reinvents itself from its peripheral position while continuing to engage in dialogue with Celtic stories, migrant history, and the margins of the Spanish state, with the right to narrate itself from within. To delve deeper into these topics and celebrate the occasion, we are publishing an interview conducted in July 2023 with award-winning writer and essayist María López Sández. The conversation took place at the Café Derby in Santiago de Compostela, a legendary venue for Galician gatherings located at the entrance to the historic centre. López Sández’s perspective helps us understand why literature is, for Galicia, much more than an artistic expression: it is a way of belonging, projecting oneself, and inhabiting the world. Global Voices (GV): What role does literature play in the construction of Galician identity? María López Sández (MLS): Es una herramienta clave, porque la producción cultural en general resulta decisiva para crear imaginarios que condicionan cómo las personas se perciben a sí mismas. Esto sucede en todos los contextos, pero en las literaturas minorizadas es aún más evidente, ya que suelen ocupar posiciones periféricas. Por eso, los procesos de desmitificación y relectura identitaria [NdR: entender la cultura propia como forma de hablar de ‘un quiénes somos’ colectivo] son más frágiles y complejos. María López Sández (MLS): It is a key tool because the production of culture in general is vital in creating the collective imagination, which affects how people perceive themselves. This happens in all contexts, but in minority literatures it is even more evident, since they tend to occupy peripheral spaces. For this reason, the processes of demystification and identity re-reading [understanding one’s own culture as a way of speaking about a collective ‘us’] are more fragile and complex. GV: In what ways can institutions protect a language like Galician? MLS: Existen diversas vías. Es fundamental garantizar su presencia en los ámbitos académico, político, administrativo y educativo. Si las instituciones fuesen coherentes con lo que establece la Carta Europea de las Lenguas Regionales o Minoritarias y con el enfoque ecolingüístico que subyace en proyectos como el Archivo Digital de Lenguas en Peligro de Extinción, sin duda se producirían avances significativos. Es preciso asumir la defensa de la lengua propia como un proyecto colectivo de máxima trascendencia. En Timor Oriental, por ejemplo, con una complejidad lingüística enorme, se apostó por la enseñanza inicial en cada una de las lenguas del territorio. Y eso en un Estado muy reciente —fundado en 2002— y con circunstancias económicas mucho más adversas que las de Galicia. La situación del gallego no es de las más extremas, pero cada lengua representa un compromiso con la diversidad cultural del planeta. Comprometerse con la diversidad lingüística del mundo pasa por hablar y defender, en cada lugar, la lengua propia. MLS: There are many ways. It is fundamental to guarantee their presence in academic, political, administrative and educational spheres. If institutions were aligned with what was established in the European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages and with the ecolinguistic focus that is highlighted in projects such as the Digital Archive of Languages in Danger of Extinction, undoubtedly this would lead to significant advances. It is necessary to accept the defence of one’s own language as a collective project of maximum importance. In East Timor, for example, with its enormous linguistic complexity, the focus was on early childhood education in each of the territory’s languages. And this is in a very new country — founded in 2002 — and in much more adverse economic circumstances than Galicia. The situation of Galician is not one of the more extreme, but each language represents a commitment to the cultural diversity of the planet. Committing to global linguistic diversity happens by speaking and defending one’s own language everywhere. GV: In linguistics, they talk about the importance of normalisation and standardisation of a language. What is the difference between these two concepts? MLS: La normalización busca garantizar la presencia y el prestigio de la lengua en todos los ámbitos de la vida social. La normativización, por su parte, consiste en definir una variedad estándar que permita su uso en contextos formales y funcionales diversos. Son procesos interconectados e interdependientes que se desarrollan en paralelo en todas aquellas lenguas que aspiran a mantenerse vivas y operativas. MLS: Normalisation seeks to guarantee the presence and prestige of a language in all areas of social life. Standardisation, on the other hand, consists of defining a standard variety which allows it to be used in diverse formal and functional contexts. They are interconnected and interdependent processes that develop in parallel in all languages that aspire to remain alive and functioning. GV: In your book Paisaxe e nación (Landscape and nation) you propose that territory and personality are connected in Galician literature. How does this connection arise? MLS: Es un fenómeno que también se da en otras culturas. En el siglo XIX, con el [movimiento cultural y artístico del] Romanticismo, se produjo una profunda revalorización de los paisajes, especialmente de aquellos en los que la presencia humana era menor: los más salvajes, alejados de lo social. Por eso se pasó del parque francés al jardín inglés, y espacios hasta entonces considerados hostiles —el mar, el desierto, la alta montaña— empezaron a valorarse desde la categoría de lo sublime. En Galicia, quien lleva a cabo ese proceso [en el siglo XIX] es Rosalía de Castro, auténtica configuradora de nuestra percepción del territorio. Ella articula una triple reivindicación: lingüística, paisajística y antropológica. Reivindica la dignidad de la lengua, del territorio y del pueblo que lo habita. Por eso busca para los paisajes gallegos referentes prestigiosos de la época, como los de Suiza o Italia. Esa revalorización comienza ya en el prólogo de Cantares Gallegos. Más adelante, Ramón Otero Pedrayo retoma esa línea descriptiva y la profundiza, incorporando el valor simbólico del mapa del [geógrafo] Domingo Fontán que inserta en una escena central de [su novela] Arredor de si, hasta convertirlo en un emblema cultural. Ese mapa tuvo, por ejemplo, un profundo valor simbólico para la emigración, ya que en él aparecían representadas todas las parroquias del país, lo que generaba un fuerte vínculo emocional con la tierra. La literatura y la identidad gallegas están profundamente arraigadas en el territorio. MLS: It’s a phenomenon that also arises in other cultures. In the 19th century, with [the cultural and artistic movement] Romanticism, a profound revaluation of landscapes took place, especially of those in which a human presence was minimal: the most wild and distant from society. That’s why we went from the French park to the English garden, and spaces that until then had been considered hostile — the sea, the desert, the high mountains — began to be valued in the category of the sublime. In Galicia, the person who brought this to pass (in the 19th century) is Rosalía de Castro, truly shaping our perception of territory. She voiced demands in three areas: linguistics, landscape and anthropology. She asserted the dignity of the language, the land and the people who inhabit it. For this reason, she sought out prestigious references of the period for Galician landscapes, such as those of Switzerland and Italy. This revaluation begins in the prologue of Cantares Gallegos (Galician Songs). Later, Ramón Otero Pedrayo takes up that descriptive line and takes it further, incorporating the symbolic value of [geographer] Domingo Fontán’s map that he inserts in a central scene of [his novel] “Arredor de si” (“Circling”), effectively turning it into a cultural emblem. This map, for example, had a profound symbolic value for emigrants, as it depicted all the country’s parishes, creating a strong emotional connection to the land. Galician literature and identity are deeply rooted in territory. Galician Literature Day arrived as “ahí ven o maio” (“here comes May”), as the song says. Spring declared itself in its most beautiful form with cherry blossoms and cotton fluff flying through the rivers. In Santiago de Compostela, the bar terraces began to fill up, pilgrims with their huge colourful backpacks crowded the historic centre, students in the new town were beginning to savour the holidays after their final exams, and officials in the institutional buildings hurried along their tasks to return home and enjoy the long days. Few people remembered the rain, that much-maligned counterpoint that lashed the northern Iberian peninsula for months, that exception to the promise of a perpetually sunny Spain. But if the Galician land (as well as its literature) teaches us anything, it is that without that rain, this lush green would not exist.