Hardline ETA prisoners led by Txapote launch new movement

Txapote and hardline ETA prisoners announce new movement

What happens when an ETA member convicted of murder has spent over two decades in prison only to find his political project diluted by institutional management? The answer lies in a manifesto signed by the most irreducible sector of ETA prisoners, led by Javier García Gaztelu, known as Txapote. It announces the creation of a new liberation movement and warns: "The struggle must continue." Distributed within sympathetic circles, the text directly challenges the strategy of the abertzale left and Arnaldo Otegi's leadership, accusing him of abandoning the cause.

The manifesto, published by the magazine Kalabutxi, is signed by a dozen inmates who distance themselves from the official prisoner collective. Among them are names like Julen Atxurra, Oskar Barreras, Aitor Cotano, and Beatriz Etxebarria. They share a diagnosis: "More than 13 years have passed since the end of the cycle characterized by armed struggle, and things have not improved." For this group, military defeat must not become political defeat, and they denounce that abertzale structures have integrated into the Spanish system.

Who is behind the manifesto and why it matters

Txapote is no ordinary prisoner. He was the material author of the 1997 kidnapping and murder of PP councilor Miguel Ángel Blanco in Ermua, a crime that marked a turning point in Basque society. His leadership within this dissident group is consolidated, according to counter-terrorism sources, with worrying support from youth collectives such as Jardun and the Gazte Koordinadora Abertzale (GKS). His brother-in-law, Orkatz Gallastegui, a fellow inmate at Zaballa prison (Álava), is another key figure in this network.

The text is not mere prison venting. Experts interpret it as a sign that the "red ember" remains alive and that dissent from the official line could spread. "It will force Otegi's leadership to act so that the disavowal does not escalate," they warn. The concern is less about this group's operational capacity—hampered by surveillance—and more about its influence on the narrative: keeping the imagery of armed struggle alive among the young.

The abertzale response: silence and calculation

The abertzale left has been quick to distance itself. Otegi responded to victims that he does not defend the "impunity" of ETA members but advocates for "coexistence" while seeking their release. Thus, the same Otegi who requests parole for ETA prisoners now finds himself forced to define his profile against those who view that strategy as betrayal. The paradox is evident: the hardline sector accuses Otegi of integrating into the system, while Otegi accuses the hardliners of failing to understand that politics is something else.

In Basque nationalist circles, this manifesto is seen as an attempt by Txapote to regain prominence after years of ostracism. "He lives in his own world," sources close to him note. Others believe the permeability of these ideas in radical youth spheres is a warning. GKS and Jardun are not folkloric groups: they handle discourse, mobilization, and networks.

The economic calculation of defeat: who benefits from peace?

Beyond the political noise, the manifesto invites economic reflection. For decades, ETA justified violence as a means to achieve independence. Today, the Basque Country enjoys a privileged economic agreement, with per capita GDP above the Spanish average and lower unemployment rates. Former ETA members now holding institutional positions—some earning over €60,000 annually—have found professional politics a more comfortable modus vivendi than clandestinity.

This contrast is what the manifesto denounces when speaking of "leftism, dogmatism, and infantilism." Translated: those who once wielded guns now manage budgets. Txapote and his trinc feel betrayed by a system that has turned armed struggle into an uncomfortable memory and, above all, a business for a few. The lingering question is whether this discontent can be channeled into something more than a communiqué.

What happens when Txapote leaves prison?

Nothing indicates Txapote will leave soon. He accumulates sentences totaling hundreds of years, and his release is not expected in the short term. But the manifesto has already served its purpose: reminding us that there is a sector that has not renounced violence. The "red ember" is not a metaphor; it is a warning that the Basque conflict has not fully closed.

The irony is that if he ever gets out, Txapote will find a Basque Country he does not recognize. A territory where immigration has transformed neighborhoods, where young people look more at their phones than at the cause, and where the political heirs of his struggle live off institutional rents. Perhaps then he will understand that the true defeat was not military, but having spent half his life in prison so others could collect allowances.