How urban lifestyles made Spain so vulnerable to COVID-19
Over the course of the next few months, Oxford Urbanists will be publishing dispatches from around the world on what feels like an unprecedented era in modern history, both for cities and the world, during — and perhaps after — the COVID-19 pandemic. We want to know how cities are responding; what lessons we can learn for the future; and how we think cities might change indefinitely.
Barcelona’s old gothic quarter. Small alleyways and cramped spaces abound in the city. / Photograph by Alexia Faus
Case Study: Barcelona, Spain
Following three weeks of quarantine, the Spanish government announced on April 4 that lockdown will be extended until April 26. Spain is now second in the world for most infections due to COVID-19, after the United States, and also, for most deaths, after Italy. The country is going through, as President Pedro Sánchez noted on March 21, “the most serious situation since the Spanish Civil War.”
Amidst the confusion, the fear and the sheer sadness of what is happening here, I have been struggling to understand why we — the Spanish — have been hit so hard. I thought we had a wonderful public healthcare system after we ranked third in the world, and first in Europe, according to the 2018 Bloomberg Healthcare Efficiency Index. Wasn’t Spain reportedly the healthiest country in the world just last year?
Spanish and international media outlets have had much to say. The Guardian and the Financial Times published some particularly reaming articles that point to glaring instances of government mismanagement — and even ineptitude. For instance, the day Italy went into full lockdown, the International Women’s Day march was allowed to proceed in the capital city of Madrid, now the viral epicenter of the country. Citizens were rightfully angry when it became clear that the government had bought millions of euros worth of faulty testing kits from an unregistered Chinese supplier.
These examples, unfortunately, compound stereotypes of southern European inefficiency, but they are also only one part of the story. Urban lifestyles, I believe, have had a much greater stake in how things have panned out, perhaps more than any government policy or response to COVID-19.
For one, most of us live in small, cramped apartments in buildings between six and eight stories tall. In many northern European countries, in contrast, people tend to live in detached or semi-detached houses. According to a 2016 study by Spanish consultancy firm Afi, apartments in Barcelona overwhelmingly fall between the 73 and 115 meters squared bracket. This means that many families of three, four, five and above are living in close contact with each other, and constantly interacting with their neighbours. In a country of 46.7 million people — of which 80.3% is urban — that’s a lot of people literally living on top of each other.
People here also tend to be very close to their families, and bonds with elders are strong. Solidarity through family networks has, in fact, often been cited as a key reason why there was no social revolution in Spain when we were hit by the 2008 financial crisis. It is perhaps another reason why infections here have been so high — especially in homes for the aging, and residencies for persons with disabilities — and deaths so pronounced amongst the 70+ age group. Furthermore, we do not have a tradition of taking off our shoes before entering the home, unlike in many Far East, northern European, and eastern European countries. This further aggravates exposure to bacteria and viruses that may linger in streets and community spaces. It does not, of course, make or break a pandemic outbreak — but it certainly does not help.
Due to these cramped living conditions, home is mostly just a place to sleep. Life is outside, and Barcelona has long fostered an environment to pursue ‘la vida de carrer,’ or street-based lifestyle. We have good weather (apparently the virus does well in temperate climates); great food; access to both beaches and mountains (the city is sandwiched between both); as well as a range of well-kept parks, historic buildings and cultural events.
Even in the winter months, agreeable temperatures enable people to enjoy the outdoor terraçes (seating areas) for a coffee, a Sunday lunch at 3pm, or a beer, all while soaking in the beating sun. We sit in close proximity to each other in the quaint plaçes (squares) that dot the city, in which children can play together in the parks. We enjoy tapas that we share amongst ourselves, with our hands, and greet our friends and family with a kiss on each cheek. This outdoor activity generates a warm, friendly atmosphere and invites plenty of socialising, which is, of course, problematic when a pandemic hits. Barring differences in geography and landscape, these characteristics are true of most other cities in Spain. They may be why Barcelona is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Europe, and why Spain is the second most visited country in the world after France, having welcomed 83 million tourists in 2018.
Castells, or ‘human towers’ during the Barcelona Festival of ‘La Mercè’ on September 24th 2019. They are a Catalan cultural phenomenon that draw hundreds of people in the spring and summer. / Photograph by Alexia Faus
But they are also, perhaps, some of the main reasons why the country is in the situation it is in today. Outdoor, urban life is so important and inherently embedded in our lifestyles that we initially paid lip service to the early warnings coming first from China — and, then, more prominently from Italy. Suggestions to limit contact with people sounded foreign in a country where dedication to family and friends forms the backbone of social life. Confinement in small apartments simply did not make sense until we realised things were getting serious. Perhaps this is why the government was so late to react, too. The national quarantine has not only brought a standstill to the economy, but, also, has imprinted itself on the urban psyche; on the familiarity and affection that people have towards each other; on what living well — “the Mediterranean way” — means.
It will be interesting to see how this pandemic shapes our understandings of urban life going forward. However, I struggle to see how lifestyles will actually shift in response. We are not going to suddenly start building and living in detached or semi-detached houses. I doubt we will stop our culture of going out, though we may go to a café with a friend once, instead of twice a week. We may kiss people less on the cheeks, but we will still kiss. No matter what the authorities do to respond to outbreaks like these, there are certain attributes of Spanish urban life that will continue to make the country so vulnerable. Many of these characteristics are found in other places, too, and are perhaps why Italy has suffered so much as well. Yet because the distribution of urban space and our culture of outdoors socialising are unlikely to change, it is dutifully imperative that the government strengthens the public healthcare system to prevent similar pandemic outcomes in the future.
Of course, this would only be a reactive measure to mitigate the central role that urban life has in spreading diseases. But right now, it is better than nothing.
***
Alexia Faus Onbargi is the Europe and MENA Coordinator at Oxford Urbanists. Originally from Barcelona, she is studying towards an MPhil in Development Studies at the University of Oxford, and is a fellow of the ‘La Caixa’ Foundation (2019-2021). She has been published by the United Nations in Beirut, the Spanish newspaper La Vanguardia, and the Cambridge-based publication Manara Magazine.