Clément Rosset, a French philosopher whose parents had a strong link to Spain, recalled a meaningful story from the celebrated French comic Asterix, specifically from the fourteenth volume of the series, Asterix in Spain, published in 1969. Rosset (1939 – 2018), considered the philosopher of joy and son of an exiled Spanish Republican, was a big fan of flamenco. He visited Spain often, and it was particularly in flamenco where this thinker found a lot of that deep — and also tragic — joy, which in his opinion made reality, and life itself, bearable and worth living.

The Asterix story, which takes place in Spain, mixes ancient history — the struggles of the Gauls against the Roman invaders — with every Spanish cliché. Let’s not forget that this comic, although taking place in ancient times, was published at the end of the 1960s, when Spanish tourism was being promoted with the catchphrase “Spain is Different” by Manuel Fraga Ibarre — Minister of Information and Tourism during Franco’s dictatorship — leading to the mass arrival of foreign tourists and perpetuating Spanish stereotypes such as bullfighting and flamenco. And we know how the French loved to parody and mock all those Spanish clichés, in the time of Franco and beyond.

Thus, the story of this well-known comic is filled with partying (Seville’s Holy Week celebration is also described as a party), olés, flamenco, bulls, sevillanas, bad roads permanently being repaired, and every other imaginable Spanish cliché. However, Clement focuses on another aspect of the Asterix story. The Gauls are now in Andalusia escorting Pepe – the main character in the story — back home, and they come across a nomad Gypsy tribe, who invite them to join in a party.

«Those Gypsies in the French comic were right: what they are going to celebrate, gentlemen from Gaul, is a party, even if they sing sad songs. Deep inside, what they do is to erase their loneliness and sadness, embracing a deep joy which is not necessarily the product of a joyful atmosphere, but rather the product of a radical depth: the true joy of being together, rooted in reality, with their feet firmly on the ground»

“A party?”, wonder the Gauls, surprised “Is this what the Spanish call a party?” Men in tears singing one Ayayayayyyyy! after another, with sad lyrics (seguiriyas, without a doubt). How could those Gypsies call that a party? Yet, according to Rosset, that was certainly a party, strange as it might seem. A party is not necessarily an event meant for fun entertainment. I would add that a party is a celebration.

Yes, flamenco, in its most pure, simple, spontaneous and less professional essence, is a celebration. And every celebration is a party, as the only purpose of a party is to gather and be together, even if it is just to lick our wounds together, even if we sing about loneliness, poverty and injustice. So, it does not matter whether we sing por fiesta, tangos and bulerías, or mournful seguiriyas or soleás, because the human loneliness is a given. And when the gathering happens and people sing, loneliness disappears. Like a great teacher of mine used to say, “we go out at night to be together”. In order to break our sadness, we gather at night to celebrate a party.

So, those Gypsies in the French comic were right: what they are going to celebrate, gentlemen from Gaul, is a party, even if they sing sad songs. Deep inside, what they do is to erase their loneliness and sadness, embracing a deep joy which is not necessarily the product of a joyful atmosphere, but rather the product of a radical depth: the true joy of being together, rooted in reality, with their feet firmly on the ground. Flamenco performances, as we all know, is something else. A flamenco performance is not always joyful. It may be enjoyable at most. There is nothing wrong with flamenco artists making a living with their art, and showing it to the public, but that is something else.

That is why Clement Rosset, the philosopher of deep joy, loved Spain and all things Spanish, particularly flamenco, where he found a clear example of that joy that is born from celebrating reality and life, despite all its miseries. Later, we may quote Horace: “We are but dust and shadow”.