The idea that anyone living and working in Catalonia could be considered Catalan is now under pressure. In recent years, exclusionary rhetoric has moved from the margins into mainstream conversation, weakening the region’s once-integrative identity model and fueling new divisions.
For decades, there was a practical consensus: 'un sol poble', or a single people. That approach is eroding as ethnic nationalism gains ground. Words like 'nyordos' and 'colonos', once fringe insults, are now used more openly to label and separate residents, challenging the old principle that origin or language should not decide who belongs. Recent research and official reports have not established how widespread these terms are in public discourse, and their prevalence remains debated.
As of July 2024, 41.1% of Catalonia's residents identified as only or mostly Catalan, while 44.1% saw themselves as both Catalan and Spanish, and 11.6% as only or mostly Spanish.
This hardening of identity lines did not happen overnight. The final phase of the procés, Catalonia’s independence push, gave more radical voices room to grow. As politics grew more tense, so did the urge to draw boundaries around who counts as truly Catalan. The range of acceptable views shifted, and ideas once considered extreme became part of daily conversation.
Back in the 1970s, Catalan leaders faced a similar problem: how to welcome waves of newcomers without tearing the social fabric. Their answer was a shared, open identity that valued coexistence over exclusion. Today, that model is giving way to a narrower one, where Catalan identity is treated as a closed club, open only to those who meet stricter criteria. Yet columns in major Catalan media and recent expert commentary indicate that official and research agendas in 2026 still describe Catalan identity as fundamentally inclusive, focusing on citizenship and shared participation rather than ethnic origin.
The result could be a divided civic community. Catalonia could become a patchwork of closed groups: a minority of 'Catalans' and a majority of 'non-Catalan' residents. This echoes the same divisions that Spanish nationalist parties like Ciudadanos once promoted, but now from the other side of the political spectrum.
Between 2002 and 2025, the number of people over 65 in Catalonia increased by 800,000, intensifying the region's reliance on immigration and making debates over belonging more politically charged.
This reversal is not unique to Catalonia. Across Spain, identity politics have become a battleground, with local disputes reflecting national debates. The recent controversy in Valencia over wildfire response, as reported earlier, shows how quickly questions of belonging and exclusion can grow into broader conflicts. In Valencia, for example, the region’s official name was set as a compromise after Spain’s transition to democracy, but some civic and left-wing groups still use "País Valencià" as a symbol of national identity, showing that similar debates over identity and inclusion continue in other autonomous communities.
The stakes extend beyond language. The move toward ethnic exclusivity signals a deeper change in Catalan society, a retreat from the optimism that once shaped its politics. Hardliners now dismiss the old belief that anyone could become Catalan simply by living in Catalonia as naïve or even dangerous. Their vision is defensive: a select group protecting itself from outsiders, with identity based on birth or language instead of shared experience.
This shift is not simply a reaction to political setbacks or demographic change. It reflects a wider trend toward hardened identities and closed communities, where belonging is inherited, not chosen. For Catalonia, the cost is the unraveling of a model that once let it absorb diversity without breaking apart. The region now faces a clear choice: hold on to the idea of inclusion, or give in to division. That decision will shape Catalonia’s future and the wider Spanish debate over what it means to belong.
