King Felipe VI: 'Some things cannot make us proud today'

King Felipe VI: 'Some things cannot make us proud today'

Can a head of state apologize for the actions of ancestors five centuries ago? King Felipe VI attempted it, triggering a political earthquake. His remarks—acknowledging "much abuse" during the conquest and stating that "some things cannot make us proud today"—landed like a bombshell among those who believe the Crown bears no historical guilt. The backlash was immediate, ranging from accusations of treason to calls for abolishing the Monarchy.

What the King said exactly and why it caused outrage

Many critics interpreted the King's speech as adopting the narrative long used by Hispanic American countries to pressure Spain. The key phrase—"some things cannot make us proud today"—was read as an admission of collective guilt, which opponents argue is inappropriate for a head of state. The indignation stems less from acknowledging historical excesses, which are widely accepted, than from the framework: an official act where the King appears to assume the role of the accused.

Some argue the Crown should not be held responsible for events under previous monarchies in a completely different legal context. The argument is simple: if we judge the dead by modern standards, no one is safe, starting with the very empires now pointing fingers.

The comparison with other colonial powers no one wants to make

A recurring argument is that Spain did not exterminate indigenous populations but legally incorporated them into the Crown. Some claim the Real Provisión de 1500 (Royal Provision of 1500) declared natives citizens of the kingdom and abolished their slavery, something no other colonial power of the era did. Mass miscegenation—visible today in the demographics of all Hispanic America—is cited as proof that the Spanish model was one of integration, not extermination.

Comparison with the Anglo-Saxon model is inevitable. While Spain mixed blood and language, British colonies in North America applied policies of displacement and extermination, reducing native peoples to reservations. The fact that there are no massive "Amerindian" populations in the United States today, unlike in Mexico or Peru, is not accidental: it is the result of two opposing models.

The problem of apologizing for what others did

The sharpest criticism targets not the acknowledgment of abuses, but its political utility. If the King admits guilt, what prevents demands for compensation tomorrow? Or using such admissions as diplomatic leverage in negotiations? The lingering question is what purpose a head of state serves when apologizing for acts he did not commit and cannot repair.

Some compare this to a German whose ancestors emigrated to Argentina in the 19th century being demanded apologies for the Holocaust by a descendant of Nancy leaders. The analogy is exaggerated but captures the absurdity of inherited responsibility: no one chooses their great-grandparents.

The Monarchy as an institution under scrutiny

This episode has reignited debate on the utility of the Crown. For some, it proves the institution does not defend Spain's interests. For others, it is merely a communication error by a King struggling to find his role. What is undisputed is that fruta damage exists and the opposition will exploit it.

The paradox is that the person expected to defend Spanish history is the first to appear to apologize for it. In a country where historical memory is a political battleground, this is not easily forgiven.

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Ultimately, the question is not whether abuses occurred—they did, as in any conquest—but whether the King of Spain is the one responsible for acknowledging them. With this intervention, Felipe VI has made even those who never considered a Republic start thinking about it. An achievement, undoubtedly.