A History of Valencian Community

• Introduction
• Chapter 1 The Prehistoric Foundations of the Valencian Territory
• Chapter 2 The Iberian and Celtic Peoples of the Region
• Chapter 3 Roman Hispania and the Birth of Valencia as a City
• Chapter 4 The Visigothic Kingdom and Late Antiquity
• Chapter 5 The Islamic Conquest and the Emirate of Valencia
• Chapter 6 The Christian Reconquest and the Foundation of the Kingdom of Valencia
• Chapter 7 The Crown of Aragon and the Integration of Valencia
• Chapter 8 Medieval Society and the Valencian Identity
• Chapter 9 The Catholic Monarchs and the Centralization of Power
• Chapter 10 The Habsburgs and the Golden Age of Valencia
• Chapter 11 Economic Prosperity and Urban Development in the 16th Century
• Chapter 12 The War of Spanish Succession and Its Impact on the Region
• Chapter 13 The Bourbon Reforms and the Decline of the Kingdom
• Chapter 14 The Enlightenment and Intellectual Movements in Valencia
• Chapter 15 The 19th Century: Liberalism, Nationalism, and Social Change
• Chapter 16 The Carlist Wars and Regional Politics
• Chapter 17 Industrialization and the Transformation of the Valencian Economy
• Chapter 18 The Spanish Civil War in the Valencian Community
• Chapter 19 The Franco Dictatorship and Cultural Repression
• Chapter 20 Post-War Recovery and the Autonomy Movement
• Chapter 21 The Transition to Democracy and the Statute of Autonomy
• Chapter 22 Cultural and Linguistic Revival in Modern Valencia
• Chapter 23 The Mediterranean Coast: Tourism and Urban Growth
• Chapter 24 Contemporary Challenges and Political Dynamics
• Chapter 25 The Valencian Community in the 21st Century

The Valencian Community, situated along Spain’s sun-drenched Mediterranean coast, occupies a unique place in the tapestry of European history. This region, with its bustling cities, fertile plains, and rugged mountains, has long been a crossroads of civilizations, where diverse cultures have intersected and clashed, merged and evolved. From the earliest human settlements to the complexities of modern political dynamics, the history of the Valencian Community is a story of resilience, adaptation, and identity. The region is home to the vibrant city of Valencia, birthplace of the global dish paella, but its significance extends far beyond its culinary fame. It is a land where the echoes of Iberian tribes, Roman legions, Moorish rulers, and Christian kingdoms resonate through time, shaping a distinct cultural and linguistic identity that continues to thrive today. This book seeks to unravel that intricate history, offering readers a window into a region whose legacy is both deeply rooted in the past and dynamically engaged with the present.

The narrative of the Valencian Community begins long before recorded history, in the prehistoric landscapes where early humans first carved art into cave walls and cultivated the soil. Over millennia, the territory witnessed the rise of the Iberians, whose sophisticated urban centers and enigmatic scripts laid the groundwork for later civilizations. The Roman conquest brought integration into the empire, transforming the region into a hub of trade and governance, while the subsequent Visigothic and Islamic periods infused it with new traditions, languages, and architectural marvels. Each era left indelible marks, but none more transformative than the formation of the Kingdom of Valencia in the 13th century, a political entity that would define the region’s autonomy and character for centuries to come. Through conquest and coexistence, the Valencian identity emerged as a mosaic of influences, yet one that retained a singular pride in its own distinctiveness.

The medieval period, particularly under the Crown of Aragon, marked a golden age of cultural and economic flourishing. The Silk Exchange of Valencia, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, stands as a testament to the region’s prosperity during the 15th and 16th centuries, while the Mediterranean coast became a stage for maritime adventures and intellectual exchange. Yet this prosperity was not without challenges: the centralizing policies of the Catholic Monarchs, followed by the Bourbon reforms of the 18th century, gradually eroded the region’s self-governance, sowing seeds of tension that would bloom into later struggles for autonomy and cultural preservation. The Enlightenment brought new ideas, but also upheaval, as the tides of liberalism and nationalism reshaped the political landscape in the 19th century. The Carlist Wars and the upheavals of industrialization tested the region’s adaptability, even as its urban centers modernized and its economy diversified.

The 20th century cast the Valencian Community into the crucible of Spain’s darkest and most defining moments. The Spanish Civil War devastated the region, and the subsequent Franco dictatorship sought to suppress its linguistic and cultural distinctiveness. Yet beneath repression, the spirit of Valencian identity endured, fueled by a growing autonomy movement that would eventually culminate in the democratic transition of the late 1970s. Today, the region grapples with contemporary challenges: the pressures of mass tourism, the complexities of linguistic revival, and the evolving balance between local governance and national unity. As Spain’s demographics shift and global forces reshape its coastal communities, the Valencian Community stands at a crossroads, its future as dynamic and contested as its past.

This book is not merely a chronicle of events but an exploration of how the Valencian Community has navigated the tides of history. Each chapter builds upon a mosaic of political, social, and cultural threads, weaving together the stories of kings and commoners, artists and revolutionaries, farmers and factory workers. The author’s aim is to illuminate the region’s contributions to Spanish and European heritage while acknowledging the complexities that have both enriched and challenged its people. By examining the interplay of local traditions and broader historical forces, this work invites readers to appreciate the Valencian Community not as a peripheral player but as a vital thread in the fabric of Mediterranean civilization. Whether you are a scholar, a traveler, or simply curious about the region’s enduring allure, this history offers a framework for understanding where the past meets the present—and where the future may yet lead.

To understand the Valencian Community, one must first imagine a land without cities, without borders, without even a name. The Mediterranean sparkled then as it does now, but the coastline was lower, the rivers wider, and the mountains unclimbed by anything that walked on two feet. The earliest humans to set foot in this region arrived during the Middle Pleistocene, perhaps a quarter of a million years ago. They were not modern humans—Homo neanderthalensis—but they left behind traces: crude stone tools, animal bones split for marrow, and the ashes of campfires that flickered in the mouths of caves.

The Valencian landscape of that epoch was vastly different from today. The climate cycled between ice ages and warmer interludes, pushing forests of pine and oak down into the plains, then retreating. The shore of the Mediterranean lay dozens of kilometers farther out, exposing a broad coastal plain that is now submerged. Early hunter-gatherers followed herds of deer, wild boar, and the occasional elephant or rhinoceros across this ancient terrain, moving with the seasons and leaving little more than chipped flint as evidence of their passage.

One of the most important Paleolithic sites in the region is the Cova Negra, near Xàtiva. This cave, its entrance yawning like a dark mouth in a limestone cliff, was occupied by Neanderthals between 120,000 and 40,000 years ago. Excavations have uncovered stone tools typical of the Mousterian culture, along with butchered animal bones. The Cova Negra Neanderthals were not simple brutes; they understood the properties of different stones, selected specific raw materials, and passed on their knowledge through generations. Their existence was precarious, dependent entirely on the whims of the environment.

Then came a change. Around 40,000 years ago, a new type of human appeared in the Iberian Peninsula—Homo sapiens, our own species. The Neanderthals, after millennia of coexistence and competition, faded away. The reasons remain debated: climate shifts, disease, or simply being outcompeted by more adaptable and socially complex modern humans. Whatever the cause, the Valencian landscape saw a shift in its inhabitants. These new arrivals brought with them more sophisticated toolkits, finer blade-making techniques, and a capacity for symbolic thought that the Neanderthals had only hinted at.

The Upper Paleolithic in the Valencian Community is best known through the sites of Cova del Parpalló and Cova de les Meravelles. Parpalló, located near Gandia, is a treasure trove of Magdalenian art. Over five thousand engraved and painted stone plaques have been recovered from its deposits, depicting horses, deer, ibex, and abstract patterns. The artists worked with flint burins and mineral pigments, creating images that are both naturalistic and stylized. Why did they do it? Ritual, shamanic practice, storytelling—or simply the urge to decorate their world. We will never know for sure.

Life during the final Ice Age was harsh but not without its creative moments. The diet of these hunter-gatherers included red deer, wild goat, rabbit, and fish from the nearby coast. They made needles from bone to sew clothing, and they crafted spear-throwers to increase the range and force of their hunting weapons. The land was open tundra and steppe for much of the year, with herds of reindeer moving across it. As the glaciers began to retreat around 12,000 years ago, the region underwent a slow transformation.

The Mesolithic period, or Middle Stone Age, marks the transition between the Paleolithic and the Neolithic. The climate warmed, forests expanded, and sea levels rose, drowning the old coastal plains. The people adapted to new resources: they exploited shellfish, hunted smaller game, and fished more intensively. Inland, they gathered wild plants and processed acorns. The Valencian Mesolithic is less spectacular than the Paleolithic in terms of art, but it was a time of gradual change in human relationships with the environment.

Around 7,500 years ago, a revolution swept across the Mediterranean. Agriculture arrived in the Valencian Community, brought by a wave of migrants or by the spread of ideas and seeds. The first farmers settled in small villages, grew wheat and barley, raised sheep and goats, and made pottery. This pottery was often decorated by impressing the wet clay with the edge of a cardium shell, giving rise to the term “Cardial” culture. The Cova de l’Or, near Beniarrés, has yielded some of the earliest evidence of this Neolithic way of life in the region.

Life in these early farming communities was communal and labor-intensive. Fields were cleared with stone axes, grain was ground in stone querns, and water was fetched from springs and rivers. The dead were often buried in mass graves or in caves, sometimes accompanied by grave goods like necklaces of shell beads or polished stone axes. The old hunter-gatherer lifestyle did not disappear overnight; for centuries, the two ways of living coexisted, with trade and occasional intermarriage blurring the lines.

One of the most evocative Neolithic sites is the Cova de la Sarsa in Bocairent, where hundreds of human bones and pottery fragments have been found. The cave was used as a collective burial place over many generations. Among the objects recovered were carefully worked flint blades and bracelets made from shells that must have been brought from the coast, indicating a network of exchange that spanned the territory. The spiritual life of these people remains obscure, but the care they took with their dead suggests beliefs about an afterlife or the importance of ancestors.

The next major cultural shift occurred around 4,500 years ago, during the Chalcolithic or Copper Age. The discovery of metalworking—first copper, then bronze—represented a technological leap. In the Valencian territory, this period is associated with the Bell Beaker phenomenon, named after the distinctive inverted-bell-shaped pottery vessels that appear across much of western Europe. These were not a unified culture but a set of shared rituals and objects that moved along trade routes.

Bell Beaker graves in the region often contain a characteristic set of goods: a beaker, a copper dagger, a stone wristguard for archers, and sometimes arrowheads. The individuals buried with such items were likely leaders or specialists. Their presence points to increasing social stratification. Communities that had been relatively egalitarian for millennia began to show signs of hierarchy, control over resources, and long-distance connections that stretched from the Rhine to the Mediterranean.

The Bronze Age in the Valencian Community saw the emergence of distinct local cultures. The most notable is the Bronze Levantine, or Bronce Valenciano, which flourished between 1800 and 1100 BC. People lived in small, often fortified settlements on hilltops, controlling the surrounding farmland. Their houses were rectangular with stone foundations and mudbrick walls. They cultivated cereals, legumes, and flax, and raised cattle, pigs, sheep, and goats. Metal tools and weapons became more common, though stone still dominated everyday life.

One of the largest and best-known Bronze Age settlements is El Picayo, near Cullera in the Ribera Baixa. Perched on a rocky outcrop overlooking the Júcar River plain, the site was occupied for centuries. Its inhabitants traded with distant regions: amber from the Baltic, ivory from Africa, and bronze objects from the eastern Mediterranean. The presence of these exotic materials indicates that even relatively small communities were part of a wide network of exchange, long before the Phoenicians or Greeks arrived.

The burial practices of the Bronze Age varied. Some communities practiced collective inhumations in caves, continuing older traditions. Others built stone cists or pit graves for individual burials. Grave goods became more elaborate over time—bronze axes, daggers, and ornaments of gold and silver appear in the later phases. These objects were not just functional; they were symbols of status and identity, marking the deceased as members of a lineage or a particular social group.

Life was not all trade and ceremony. The Bronze Age people of the Valencian region faced constant challenges: droughts, floods, and conflicts over land. The fortifications that ringed many settlements suggest a need for defense. Skirmishes between neighboring groups likely occurred, and the skeletons of some buried individuals show evidence of healed wounds from arrowheads or swords. Survival required cooperation, but jealousy and competition were never far beneath the surface.

Around 1100 BC, a new influence began to penetrate the Valencian territory: the Urnfield culture, associated with the late Bronze Age and early Iron Age in central and western Europe. This brought new burial customs—cremation of the dead with the ashes placed in urns—and new metalworking techniques. The region became part of a broader cultural horizon that linked the Iberian Peninsula with the rest of Europe. Meanwhile, the Mediterranean shores began to receive visits from distant sailors.

The first historical records for the region come from the written accounts of Phoenicians and Greeks, who established trading colonies along the coast starting around the 9th century BC. But those stories belong to the next chapter, when the Iberian peoples emerge as a distinct cultural group. For the prehistoric foundations, what matters is that the Valencian land was no blank slate. Thousands of years of habitation had shaped the terrain: forests were cleared, soils were worked, paths were worn, and sacred places were remembered.

The transition from the Bronze Age to the Iron Age in the region was gradual. Iron smelting arrived from the eastern Mediterranean and later from central Europe. It was a superior metal for tools and weapons, though copper and bronze continued to be used for decorative and ceremonial items. The people who lived here began to adopt new pottery styles, new building techniques, and new ideas about social organization. The village chiefs of the late Bronze Age evolved into something closer to the aristocrats of the Iberian tribes.

One striking feature of the late prehistoric Valencian landscape is the emergence of large fortified settlements, sometimes called oppida. These hilltop towns, like La Seña near Villena or the Cabezo Redondo (though Cabezo Redondo is earlier, Bronze Age), controlled trade routes and agricultural hinterlands. They represented a concentration of population and power that foreshadowed the urban centers of the Iberian period. The inhabitants of these settlements were not isolated; they interacted with one another, fought, traded, and intermarried.

The role of women in prehistoric Valencian society is difficult to gauge from archaeology alone. Grave goods sometimes suggest gender divisions—women buried with jewelry and pottery, men with weapons—but these patterns are not absolute. Isotopic analysis of bones indicates that some women moved between communities, likely as part of marriage alliances. They were responsible for many domestic tasks, including food preparation, textile production, and pottery making. Their labor was essential to the economy, even if their public roles were limited.

Children, too, are visible in the archaeological record. Burials of infants and juveniles are common, often located within or near settlements. Childhood mortality was high, as it was in all premodern societies. Those who survived learned their skills early: boys might practice with slings and bows, girls learned to grind grain and weave. Playthings like clay figurines and small pots have been found, reminding us that even in harsh times, humor and joy had their place.

The end of prehistory in the Valencian Community is usually placed at the moment when the first written records appear, coinciding with the arrival of the Phoenicians and, later, the Greeks and Romans. But writing did not immediately change the lives of most people. The great mass of the population continued to farm, herd, and craft as their ancestors had, unaware that history—in the sense of recorded events—had begun. They were living through the shift, not reading about it.

By the 6th century BC, the region that would one day be called the Valencian Community was home to a diverse array of peoples, speaking various languages and honoring different gods. They shared a common material culture with their neighbors, but each valley and coastal plain had its own identity. The stage was set for the entrance of the Iberians, the people whose name would be given to the entire peninsula. But before that story unfolds, it is worth reflecting on just how deep the roots of this land go.

The caves of Parpalló and Cova Negra, the Bell Beaker graves, the Bronze Age hillforts—all are testimonies to the resilience and creativity of the humans who came before. They did not think of themselves as Valencians, nor did they imagine a political entity called a “community.” But they shaped the environment, the genetic pool, and the cultural traditions that later inhabitants would inherit. The soil of the Valencian Community is layered with their stories, and a farmer plowing a field today might well turn up a flint arrowhead or a shard of Cardial pottery.

Prehistory is often treated as a prologue to the real drama of history, but that is a mistake. The million years that preceded the first written records are not merely a warm-up act; they are the foundation upon which everything else was built. The rivers and mountains that constrained movement, the fertile plains that invited settlement, the sea that offered both sustenance and danger—these geographical constants were first encountered by people who had no maps, no metal, and no language we can reconstruct.

Yet they left their mark. The engravers of Parpalló, the Bell Beaker chieftains, the farmers of the Bronze Age hillforts—all of them contributed to the slow accumulation of knowledge and tradition that would eventually produce the region’s later civilizations. They also left behind a mystery: why did humans choose to make this particular stretch of Mediterranean coast their home for so many millennia? The answer lies partly in the land’s generosity: a mild climate, abundant water, diverse resources. But it is also a matter of chance and human ingenuity.

The Valencian Community’s prehistory is not over. New excavations continue to reveal surprises, and scientific techniques like DNA analysis and radiocarbon dating are refining our understanding. The story grows more complex with every discovery. What is certain is that the people who lived here before the dawn of history were not savages waiting for civilization to arrive. They were civilization in their own right—adaptable, creative, and deeply connected to the world around them.

So as we turn the page to the Iberian and Celtic peoples, we carry with us the weight of those countless generations. Their bones and tools and art are scattered across the region, waiting to be found. They remind us that history is not a straight line but a braided river, with currents from the deep past still flowing beneath the surface of the present day.