When the Catalan parliament declared independence, Eladi Jaume was surprised to find himself weeping with joy, at the heart of a thousands-strong crowd in central Barcelona.



“I cried and I didn’t expect it. Its the first time I have cried for politics, although I’d say it was actually more for love of life,” he said with a huge grin.

Hours later – by which time the Spanish senate had approved the suspension of Catalan self rule – he was marching through the streets, celebrating his new country with an Estelada flag tied to an impromptu flag-pole and preparing – half in jest – to protect its leader from Madrid.

“Come to Cadaqués, Puigdemont, and we will protect you,” read the message scrawled on cardboard, an invitation to the Catalan president, who could soon face arrest, to his seaside hometown a couple of hours’ drive up the coast.

“We are fighters, but we do it peacefully and with respect,” said Jaume, as dozens of cars and trucks slowed to honk their horns in approval, but his sign was a reminder of the trepidation laced through the elation of independence supporters.

Eladi Jaume. Photograph: Emma Graham-Harrison/The Guardian

Mostly though the mood was of celebration, for a moment that some had hoped for all their lives, others had only recently decided to support, but most could not quite believe had arrived.

Encarna Illescas had surgery scheduled for Friday morning, but decided to come straight from the hospital to the demonstration with her husband and daughter.

“They operated on me at eight, then we came running so we could live this moment, that is so important to us. It is a long-awaited day,” said the 48-year-old.



Huge screens had been set up by the heavily guarded perimeter of parliament, so the crowd could follow the debate in parliament and the vote that followed, with increasingly excited cheers and gasps greeting each ballot cast in support.

“It has been a very beautiful moment. The word is euphoria,” said Alba Juncosa, a 34-year-old professional from Barcelona, who waited for word from parliament with her parents, aunts and uncles, then joined the crowds thronging near gates to the sprawling complex.

Once independence had been announced, some in the crowd seemed almost overwhelmed with excitement, marching around waving flags, or signs, including one that announced in English “Welcome to the Catalan republic”.



Others raced to nearby shops to buy champagne glasses, and Catalan sparkling cava to drink to the new republic. “It will be radically open and democratic,” said Felip Marti, a philosophy professor at Toulouse university. “There is happiness and also awareness that the fight will continue and we have to stay mobilised.”

Protesters hold Spanish flags during a demonstration against secession on 8 October in Barcelona. Photograph: Pau Barrena/AFP/Getty Images

As parliament wound down the crowd fanned out through a sunny Barcelona, and thousands regrouped in the Plaça Sant Jaume, home of the regional government in the heart of the gothic city, and a place resonant with history.

It was from the balcony of the medieval palace of government that the president of the last, short-lived Catalan state declared independence in 1934. Lluís Companys was later executed by dictator Francisco Franco.

They sang and danced in the square, and demanded the removal of the Spanish flag, perhaps hoping for Puigdemont to speak, watched by a heavy police guard.

But in many parts of the city, particularly areas further from the seats of government, there was no sign of celebrations or even anything to advertise the afternoon’s political earthquake.

Barcelona’s mayor, the leftist Ada Colau, was among those who saw cause for concern rather than celebrations in the parliamentary vote. She posted a furious note on Facebook attacking both Madrid for a “coup against democracy”, and pro-independence parties of a “kamikaze dash” towards a republic without majority support.

“There’s always time to turn to dialogue. Whatever happens, we won’t cease to demand it. But now our task is to defend Catalan institutions,” she added.

The Catalan regional president, Carles Puigdemont (left), and Barcelona’s mayor, Ada Colau, on 17 September. Photograph: Andreu Dalmau/EPA

Catalans against independence, often described as a silent majority, have planned a demonstration but not until Sunday, timing which serves to highlight the opposition’s weak organisation as much as their political views.

“Those of us who oppose independence haven’t been mobilised well,” admitted lawyer Antonio Luque, 59. A Catalan speaker, whose wife is a Catalan teacher, he is frustrated with both the government in Madrid and supporters of independence, and deeply concerned about what comes next.

“We are most worried about the possiblity of violence,” he said. “The image you don’t want to see is tanks in the streets of Barcelona, but now you can’t rule anything out.”