The Spanish movement: from the squares and into the streets

As I trudged through northern Spain in May, the cafes overflowed with idle men, the words 'se vende' (for sale) marked the walls of countless dilapidated dwellings whose caved roofs gave way to the trees growing inside, and the deserted shells of unfinished construction sites haunted the cities. This is not a situation unique to the country's north. The unemployment rate in Spain has soared to 21%, youth unemployment is at a staggering 44%, and a record 4.9 million are jobless.

The economic crisis is central to the protests that have been taking place throughout Spain since mid-May, and have continued to spread across Europe. The demonstrators, which have been compared by the former Spanish Prime Minister Felipe González to those staged in Arab countries, have gathered to defend their basic rights against immoral politicians and bankers whose lack of conscience is epitomized by the fallout from the financial crisis.

At the beginning of June, long after the sun had set, I found myself in front of the City Council building of Ourense, 100 km's southeast of Santiago De Compostela. There sat a few lonely tents, and on it's stairs and scattered before it's entrance were mattresses, blankets, tables, chairs, overflowing bookshelves, and painted cardboard signs spouting slogans like "we don't have enough bread for so many sausages" - referring to the countries politicians. I mingled with the camping demonstrators who called themselves 'los indignados' (the outraged), who'd offered me a place to sleep.

"What are you fighting for?" I inquired, sitting between a handful of people getting steadily drunk and stoned. The pension privileges of Spain's politicians were mentioned - as was the routine corruption and nepotism. But, after they'd decided they'd said enough, attention quickly returned to the oversized bottle of beer.

A drunken man stumbled past stopping to hurl a few words of abuse. A downcast Spanish demonstrator with tangled hair translated for me: "He said that we are homeless and to stop using demands for change as an excuse to camp on the street",. His name was Santi, and he'd travelled as a representative from Santiago to connect with those protesting in Ourense. "Nothing can be achieved this way - by smoking and drinking" he sighed.

It was clear that in Ourense there was no real struggle for change, just a handful of people using the demonstrations as an opportunity to party in the towns historic square and sleep under the stars - ready to resume their normal lives at any moment. He begged me to return with him to Santiago to experience for myself the movement that had spread throughout the country, a movement he was sure could pressure change. I would spend the next four days with Santi in his world, in Praze De Obradoiro (The Workplace) - Santiago's main plaza in the shadow of the cathedral reputed as the resting place of St. James - and would become known warmly as 'guris' (the foreigner).

We arrived in the square just before sunset, in time for dinner. Hundreds lined up in front of a long trestle table, including the local homeless, weighed down by big pots of steaming food, as the voluntary cooks happily served the meals they'd prepared on site by food donated by local inhabitants. Later we washed our dishes together in big buckets of hot water, before sitting down in the square beneath warm blankets lent to us.

The protesters sat together eating, and later played memory games in a circle, laughing loudly as they tried to remember each others names and individual gestures. Santi explained the need for games, to build relationships with one-another and release the tension of the looming prospect of forceful eviction by the national police - with their helmets lowered and batons raised - as happened in Madrid and Barcelona.

The tent community consisted of around a hundred people sleeping there every night - that number doubling or tripling in the day. Makeshift buildings had been constructed from wood, cardboard, and plastic sheet, and it was more a small village than a camp.

Apart from the roughly 100 tents organized towards the sides of the square, there was an information commission building at the front where anyone could receive information in a array of languages. At the camp's rear, in front of the police erected barricades, stood the main building whose makeshift rooms housed an audio visual commission, a legislation commission; a medical commission, a cultural commission and a nutrition commission that served three meals a day as well as coffee and biscuits (even had it's own little vegetable patch with a sign reading 'farm for freedom'). An infrastructure commission stood behind these and ceaseless drilling sounded from it's depths.

A young man with short dreadlocks patrolled the camp with a broad smile offering hugs, calling himself the 'rolling commission'. He was responsible for keeping everyone in good spirits, and mediating between those with differences of opinion. It appeared that nothing was overlooked. The work was never ending, and everyone present lent a hand. There were new buildings to be constructed and extended, leaflets to be made and distributed, rallies and assemblies to be organized, and social and cultural institutions to approach and build relationships with.

Praise flowed from locals and tourists alike, interested or wanting to contribute to the cause. After all, the demonstrators were demanding change, not only for themselves, but for every Spaniard - to use the movement's mantra - 'because we aren't products in the hands of politicians and bankers'.

Assembly took place that night, as it did on every Friday and Saturday night, usually gathering an audience of over 1000 people. These meetings allowed any person to put forward their own individual opinion, as the crowd sat in silence, waving their hands in applause so as no words of the next sentence were inaudible. Though I could understand few words, the crowds silence spoke of solidarity.

The movement was started with the ideas of eight people. One of those was Dani, a humble and inconspicuous man, who lives in Santiago. He came home one day after many months unsuccessfully looking for work, downcast and wanting change. He locked himself in his bedroom without food and emerged three days later with his computer. Using social networking sites he created the movement '500,000 in Parliament' - in reference to a more representative political system.

In early May representatives from different groups gathered in Madrid, and the protests came to life in Spain's major cities on the 15th of May in response to a call from the 'Democracia Real Xa' (Real Democracy Now) which called for demonstrations a week ahead of local and regional elections. Twenty indignados camped out in Santiago, with far greater numbers in the larger cities of Madrid and Barcelona. The leadership of the movement was described to me as a kitchen in which rotating chefs oversaw what was being created, with no one person in total power.

On that first day, 8 points for change were developed in Madrid:

• Elimination of political privileges

• Against unemployment

• Right to decent housing

• Quality of public services

• Control of major banks

• Overhaul of tax system

• Protection of citizen rights and participative democracy

• Reduction of military expenditure

In Santiago those from the movement have built up a strong relationship with the ever present local police who can sympathize with their words and see the effort being made. In the first week of the demonstration the noisy cleaning trucks circled the camp, the dry stones to sleep upon were wet, and police sirens sounded and spot lights flashed throughout the night in an attempt to clear them out. But the government's policy changed since it's use of force in Madrid and Barcelona only strengthened the demonstrators numbers, and saw protests at Spanish embassy's worldwide.

There is a strict protocol to be followed by the demonstrators in the event of forceful eviction, that has been rehearsed, and whose strict basis is pacifism:

• The police must announce that the we have two hours to leave the square. The first action taken by us would be to remove any sensitive documents that could be seized. Those who leave with this sensitive material can, under no circumstances return, but must remain hidden. Furthermore, the building infrastructure would be removed for the possibility of returning it later.

• People are free to stay or leave, based upon the conviction that 'if you don't want to see the police hurt your friends you should leave' - because the feeling of communal pacifism must be stronger than ones own feelings of anger and retribution.

• All those who remain must sit in a spiral with their arms linked within the camp. In the event that a demonstrator is broken from the person next to him, he must pretend he is dead - a symbolic gesture that without the support of the person next to you, you cannot survive. Such physical treatment would be considered police brutality.

How long did the demonstrators intend to stay? (after all, little more could be achieved from the camps beyond awareness for their cause). I was told that their actions had spread to the surrounding social and cultural infrastructure - the schools, and universities, with whom they regularly have meetings. Though many would be sad to leave the square, they realized there was more progress to be made outside of it. As Santi put it: "It is almost time to leave the square, and take the city".

Before I left I asked Santi what his personal motivation for protesting were. He will soon have a son, he explained to me, and it is for this reason that he is truly fighting - not for himself. This world of competition and exploitation, in which people feel overwhelmed and powerless, is the one he knows, but he wants his son to know another - a world of collective compassion. Santi left me with the words 'live and fight, compañeras!' (partner), and I truly felt like I was leaving a family - a family whose loud voice would be difficult to stifle.

The voluntary pullout finally took place on Sunday the 3rd of July, nearly a month after I had left, after a mammoth 16 and a half hour meeting, and weeks after protesters left Camp Puerta del Sol in Madrid.