Nestled on the rugged Galician coast, A Coruña (often anglicized as La Coruña) is a city that whispers secrets of empires, wars, and migrations. While today’s headlines obsess over climate change, refugee crises, and geopolitical tensions, this ancient port offers a lens to understand how history repeats—and how we might break the cycle.
The Tower of Hercules, A Coruña’s UNESCO-listed Roman lighthouse, is more than a tourist attraction. Built in the 1st century AD, it symbolizes the city’s role as a nexus of ancient globalization. The Romans exploited Galicia’s resources (gold, fish, and trade routes), much like modern corporations exploit global supply chains. The lighthouse guided ships laden with goods—akin to today’s container ships, but with a carbon footprint that would make Greta Thunberg weep.
In 1588, A Coruña became a staging ground for the Spanish Armada’s doomed invasion of England. The city’s shipyards buzzed with activity, fueled by imperial ambition. Fast-forward to 2024: nearby Ferrol remains a key Spanish naval base, and NATO’s expansion echoes Philip II’s failed hegemony. The lesson? Militarization without diplomacy is a recipe for disaster—then and now.
In the 19th and 20th centuries, A Coruña’s port witnessed waves of Galicians fleeing poverty for the Americas. The city’s emigrantes statues mournfully face the sea, a tribute to those who left. Today, the Mediterranean and Atlantic routes see African and Middle Eastern refugees making similar journeys—but instead of statues, they get barbed wire and detention centers.
In 2002, the oil tanker Prestige sank off Galicia, causing one of Europe’s worst ecological disasters. The blackened beaches were a grim preview of climate collapse. Now, as wildfires ravage Galicia and rising seas threaten coastal cities, A Coruña’s fishermen swap stories of dwindling catches. The message is clear: exploit nature, and nature strikes back.
A Coruña’s old town (Cidade Vella) is a postcard-perfect maze of medieval streets. But like Barcelona or Venice, it groans under mass tourism. Airbnb flats displace locals, and cruise ships belch fumes near the Hercules Tower. The city council debates “sustainable tourism,” but as long as profits trump livability, history becomes a theme park.
Galicia is now a hub for wind energy, with turbines dotting its coastline. Yet locals complain of “green colonialism”—multinationals profiting while communities see little benefit. Sound familiar? It’s the same extractive logic as the Roman gold mines, just with better PR.
A Coruña’s history is a playbook for today’s crises:
- Trade wars: The city thrived as a mercantile hub until protectionism strangled it.
- Plagues: The 16th-century plague emptied its streets—just as COVID did in 2020.
- Disinformation: The Armada’s failure was blamed on “bad weather,” not poor planning. (Sound like a certain modern presidency?)
Some locals are reviving traditional bateas (mussel farms) to combat overfishing. Artists repurpose abandoned shipyards into cultural spaces. The city’s resilience lies not in resisting change, but in adapting—without erasing its soul.
A Coruña won’t make global headlines like Kyiv or Gaza. But in its cobblestones and tides, there’s a roadmap for navigating the 21st century’s chaos. The question is: will we read it?