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1,322 shelters

Barcelona’s legacy of over a thousand air raid shelters built to protect the public from bombs in the Civil War is the subject of a new book

“I wanted to connect what was happening underground with what was happening on the surface, and that’s how the project was born”

The bomb­ings of the Span­ish Civil War left a hid­den legacy in Barcelona: at least 1,322 un­der­ground air raid shel­ters. It is a his­tor­i­cal her­itage that re­minds us of the in­dis­crim­i­nate bomb­ings of the civil­ian pop­u­la­tion in the Civil War that made Barcelona a test­ing ground for World War II. The city coun­cil has pub­lished the book, 1.322. Una mi­rada fo­togràfica als refugis an­ti­aeris de Barcelona (1,322. A pho­to­graphic look at Barcelona’s air raid shel­ters), which brings to­gether 170 orig­i­nal im­ages of un­der­ground shel­ters built be­tween 1937 and 1938, with con­text for this legacy that acts as a tes­ti­mony of wartime sol­i­dar­ity.

There are com­mu­nity and pri­vate shel­ters for col­lec­tivised fac­to­ries and re­pub­li­can in­sti­tu­tions, as well as shel­ters for po­lit­i­cal lead­ers. In this re­port we focus on three of the shel­ters, with im­ages from the book that con­trast the view above and below ground. The pho­tog­ra­pher Ana Sánchez vis­ited 40 shel­ters, a time con­sum­ing process due to all the bu­reau­cracy in­volved. “It’s far from easy to gain ac­cess to the shel­ters. You have to find out who is re­spon­si­ble, who has the key, ask for per­mis­sion... It took me up to a year to get ac­cess to some of the shel­ters,” she says.

Sánchez al­ready had ex­pe­ri­ence with re­cov­er­ing his­tor­i­cal mem­o­ries of the Civil War, since in her home­land of An­dalu­sia she had worked on pro­jects re­lated to mass graves. As she ex­plains, some of her fam­ily were vic­tims of Franco’s re­pres­sion. “When I came to Cat­alo­nia, I went from a land of pits to a land of shel­ters. The south of Spain was the first to fall in the Civil War and three years of tor­ture, death and re­pres­sion fol­lowed. I had a very dif­fer­ent image of the war than the one I found in Barcelona, where the shel­ters are a tes­ti­mony of re­sis­tance,” she says. Of the 1,322 shel­ters in­ven­to­ried, only 5% were built di­rectly by the au­thor­i­ties, while an­other 10% were pub­licly funded. The rest were due to the ef­forts of civil so­ci­ety, of com­mu­ni­ties of cit­i­zens who took the ini­tia­tive and or­gan­ised them­selves, es­tab­lish­ing what be­came known as the “Barcelona model” dur­ing World War II.

Sánchez says she likes to walk around the city streets and that led her to won­der what it would look like to cut through a sec­tion of the city and re­veal what lay be­neath. Two ex­hi­bi­tions on air raid shel­ters in 2007 and 2008 led her to enter her first shel­ter, on Car­rer València, for the first time. This shel­ter lo­cated at the junc­tion of Pas­seig Sant Joan had a huge im­pact on her. It is 350 me­tres long, has two rows of benches, la­trines, a kitchen and a clinic. It was funded by the neigh­bours them­selves, and for this rea­son the walls still show the num­bers that cor­re­sponded to the spaces for each fam­ily dur­ing the bomb­ing raids. To build and main­tain the shel­ter, weekly do­na­tions were col­lected, which var­ied de­pend­ing on whether the fam­ily also con­tributed to the work of build­ing the shel­ter.

“I wanted to con­nect what was hap­pen­ing un­der­ground with what was hap­pen­ing on the sur­face, and that’s how the pro­ject was born,” says the pho­tog­ra­pher, who adds that she has re­searched 400 of the 1,322 shel­ters: “Not all still exist. Some were started, but not fin­ished, oth­ers only exist in plans.”

Apart from the bu­reau­cracy she had to over­come to gain ac­cess to the 40 shel­ters that she pho­tographed for the book, she says there were also other con­cerns, not least safety. “If no one had been in for years, there are al­most al­ways toxic gases in the shel­ter and a lack of oxy­gen. We had to be care­ful be­cause ob­vi­ously I didn’t want to risk my life,” she says. The risk was worth it be­cause the im­ages in the book show her artis­tic vi­sion: “I wanted to cap­ture the strik­ing beauty of this ar­chi­tec­tural and civic her­itage, as well as the warm light of the in­can­des­cence that dances in these spaces,” she adds.

Cur­rently only four shel­ters in the city can be vis­ited: the one in Plaça del Dia­mant, the 307 shel­ter in Poble-sec, La Lira shel­ter in Sant An­dreu, and the re­cently opened shel­ter in Plaça de la Rev­olución, with an­other in Torre de la Sagr­era to open soon.

fea­ture Her­itage

From religious school to firearms factory with its own shelter

From 1936 to 1939, the Salesian school in Sarrià, in the Tres Torres neighbourhood, was turned into Factory 14, one of the main factories run by the Catalan War Industries Commission. At first rifles were repaired there, but later in the war it began producing new firearms. The pieces were made in various workshops scattered around Catalonia and then sent to the Sarrià factory to be assembled. By the end of the war, some 279 people were working there, turning out about 3,000 new rifles every month. In 1937, the factory got its own shelter as it was a key military target in the city. In fact, the workers themselves built the 400 square metre shelter from reinforced concrete. Three former students of the school (the factory went back to being a school after the war) revealed the existence of the shelter in a paper in 2018. It is currently flooded, but still in good condition.

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