Askoren mina, tontoen atsegina.
Only the stupid find consolation for their suffering in the suffering of others.
I have a dream of slowly migrating the original parts of this site – the parts you can find with the menu on the left of each page – to the more modern blog format of the newer version of Buber’s Basque Page. One of my first forays was to copy my translation of MG Ramos’s De Astronomástica Vasca, a treatise from nearly 100 years ago about the Basque names for the sun and moon. In doing a little searching on what new information there might be, I stumbled upon this cool story about how a star and its exoplanet were given names in Euskara, a first for the language.
A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.
Primary sources: Dos sistemas planetarios reciben nombres en euskera y catalán, SINC
In celebration of Basque Diaspora Day 2025, which on Monday, September 8 in Markina, Bizkaia, will recognize the contribution of pelota to the Diaspora, the authors of this blog publish the previously untold story of the jai-alai player from Eibar, Agustín Guisasola, a World War II veteran with the United States Army.
This year, the International Day of the Basque Diaspora 2025 is being celebrated in Markina (Bizkaia). This year’s celebration pays tribute to the Basque pelotaris who brought “jai-alai” or cesta punta to courts all over the world. Among those young men who pursued their professional careers in America was Agustín Guisasola of Eibar, whose life story exemplifies the intersection of sport, emigration, and commitment to his adopted country.
Born in 1906 in Eibar, Gipuzkoa, Guisasola set sail for Florida, United States (U.S.), at the age of 19 as part of a large group of professional jai-alai players who inaugurated a second fronton in Miami, the Biscayne, on April 1, 1926. Its opening was warmly received by the local press as a major event, which even included Basque traditional dances performed by the young puntistas. The first court, the Hialeah, inaugurated in January 1925 in the city of Hialeah in Miami-Dade County, was forced to close after its first season due to the success of the Biscayne. The Biscayne had become a cultural and sporting landmark in Miami.
Just a few months later, in September 1926, a devastating hurricane left the Biscayne in ruins, but it was soon rebuilt and reopened in June 1927. Nevertheless, it never returned to its former glory until it changed ownership [1]. Chronicles of the time highlight its Basque players, among them Guisasola, as the stars of a spectacle that drew thousands of spectators in South Florida.
Agustín also took part in the inauguration of the Summer Casino in Havana in 1928, and in 1930 he played at the Habana-Madrid court, also located in the Cuban capital.
In 1928, Agustín married French-born Therese Yvonne Savoli in New York. During the 1930s the couple alternated their residence between the United States and France. Upon returning to New York, he played—already a veteran—at the Biscayne until 1940 and afterward worked in the textile industry. Naturalized as a U.S. citizen in 1943, only a few months later, in October, he enlisted in the United States Army during World War II (WWII). He is very likely the first and only professional Jai-Alai player (identified to date) who served with the United States during WWII.
After the war, Agustín and his wife continued to reside in New York, and later in Florida, where he passed away in 1982 at the age of 76.
The story of Agustín Guisasola is that of an emigrant whose trade was pelota, who participated in the early days of cesta punta in America and who, when the time came, put on the U.S. uniform to fight under his new flag. His name is now added to the nearly 2,100 Basque and Basque-American veterans of WWII whose memory we seek to preserve and honor.
If anyone has photographs, newspaper clippings, or memories of Agustín Guisasola as a jai-alai player in Miami or Havana, we would be most grateful if you could contact us at sanchobeurko@gmail.com. A photograph of him would be a valuable testimony to accompany his story and enrich our project to preserve the memory of the Basques in World War II.
Tomorrow, September 8, the anniversary of Juan Sebastián Elcano‘s circumnavigation of the globe, is the International Day of the Basque Diaspora. This day is meant to highlight the contributions the Basque diaspora have made to Basque culture and Basque society. The Basque Government has made an explicit effort to strengthen connections and relations with the diaspora, starting with the law of 1994 that formalized these relationships. The Basque government intends to modernize this law, as outlined in a speech given at Jaialdi.
A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.
Primary sources: “Eraldoroa” Four-Year Institutional Action Plan; El Gobierno Vasco impulsará en 2026 una nueva Ley de Diáspora para adecuarla a los retos actuales, Orain; El Gobierno Vasco remitirá en 2026 al Parlamento vasco una nueva Ley de Diáspora para adaptarla al siglo XXI, irekia
Asko dakin/k//zu, bizitzen baldin badakin/k//zu.
If you know how to live, you already know a lot.
Below we publish the chronicle of the latest trip of Dr. Pedro J. Oiarzabal – co-author of this blog and co-principal investigator of “Fighting Basques: Memory of World War II” – to the United States. His trip’s goals were two-fold: to disseminate the nearly-final results of the research, on the tenth anniversary of the projects beginning, on the Basque participation in the American ranks during the last world conflict; and to deepen the work developed to date in the achievement of a monument, on American soil, to the memory of these soldiers.
The American West is the place where the hopes and dreams of thousands of Basques for generations and generations were born.
On my latest trip through Idaho and Nevada, as well as on the numerous others I have made for nearly a quarter of a century, I continue to be amazed by the depth of the Basque legacy in the American West, both in the construction of its imagery and in all the different facets of its society. The extraordinarily positive image of this legacy, which the various Basque-American communities and their institutions enjoy today, very likely does not correspond to its real weight. It is, however, an intangible heritage of incalculable value, and if managed well, it could help strengthen the future of this historic and complex American diaspora, while also enabling its members to continue choosing to connect with all things Basque.
Between the hyperbolic public image of Basque identity generated by the Jaialdi festival in Boise, Idaho – the largest Basque festival in the United States – in its eighth edition (July 29 to August 4, 2025) and the more modest annual Basque picnics in Mountain Home, Idaho and Gardnerville, Nevada, both held on the weekend of August 9 and 10, lies in some ways the situation, closer to reality, in which the Basque communities of the American West find themselves.
The Basque diaspora, whether in the United States or in any other country, historical or recent, is a vast chain in which every link is necessary for its very existence. This is also true at the local and community levels. In the postmodern identity market, choosing to identify with the Basque identity in the diaspora is similar to a small salmon struggling against the current to reach its final destination. Connecting with Basque identity and culture means contemplating the importance of the small things in life, shaped by time and the legacy of one’s ancestors, and enjoying them before they fade away irreversibly.
The American West is also the place where the descendants of those Basque emigrants who left their homes weave together, day after day, transformative complicities of the present, rooted in a distant past, and filled with unpredictable and uncertain futures. Each generation struggles to prevent everything they knew and loved from vanishing, while every action and decision they make leads them to transform their memories into present-day projects for future generations. In every dance step, in every musical note, in every bertso, and in every bite of food lie the seeds of a Basque identity laden with memories and recollections that honor the vision and actions of their parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents, in keeping their historical and cultural legacy alive.
For a decade, the non-profit Sancho de Beurko Elkartea has led the research project “Fighting Basques,” the first systematic academic study of the contributions of Basques and Basque Americans to the U.S. Armed Forces and Merchant Marines during World War II (WWII). This is a pioneering study, both in the Basque Country and in our immediate geographic context, on the role played by a minority emigrant group and their descendants up to the second degree (grandchildren of emigrants) in the last world conflict under the American flag. It is, in fact, a history of the United States during WWII through a Basque lens.
Once the study was almost completed, I had the honor of presenting its main results in Boise during the International Symposium on the Basque Diaspora “Zortziak Bat” (at Boise State University) and in Reno, Nevada at the Nevada Historical Society.
Month by month, year by year, we have been putting together the pieces of the hitherto largely unknown puzzle about the Basque and Basque-American contributions to the U.S. military forces during WWII. Today, we have identified nearly 2,100 men and women of Basque origin, born and/or enlisted in 30 states, as well as Washington, D.C., and Puerto Rico – which represents 60% of the country. Even so, 70% of them were born and/or enlisted in California, Idaho, and Nevada. (It is not surprising to find that these three states are home to the majority of the U.S. population of Basque origin today.) These 2,100 soldiers served in all branches of the military and fought on all fronts.
Furthermore, nearly 270 of these soldiers were born in the Basque Country. More than half of them were not U.S. citizens at the time of their enlistment, which speaks to their true commitment to their adopted country. Despite their participation in WWII, unfortunately many of them would not achieve citizenship.
At the beginning of our research, very little, if anything, was known about the Basque participation in WWII under the U.S. flag, and even less about the number of soldiers identified to date. They were simply shadows in oblivion. It is “the greatest generation,” but also the most unknown, one that had gone unnoticed by the academic world and remained alive only in the memories of their closest relatives. Without a doubt, the most cherished moments of my trip have been related to the encounters with the children, nephews, or grandchildren of our veterans, whether in Boise, Elko (Nevada), Reno, or Gardnerville.
If the dozens of relatives I was able to speak with during my short stay in the country had one thing in common, it was their desire to demand a place for their veterans in our public history, in our collective memory. Their veterans survived the Great Depression and stood up to authoritarianism and fought for democracy, for many of them to the bitter end. This is why their families are demanding immediate public recognition.
And this is exactly what we, under the leadership of the North American Basque Organizations (N.A.B.O.), are working on, to build an official commemorative memorial on American soil to permanently honor their memory and sacrifices, with the intention of inaugurating it by the end of 2026, coinciding with the 85th anniversary of the U.S. entry into the war.
Finally, before my trip came to an end, I visited the small cemetery of the California town of Coleville, in Antelope Valley, where I paid a small tribute to three veteran brothers, whose father was Basque and whose mother was Native American, and who are part of a little-studied chapter of Basque history in the American West.
There are not many Basque-Native American veterans who participated in WWII, but they tell a story of understanding between seemingly very separate cultures, but undoubtedly very close in their experiences of nomadic life, dispossession, and extreme survival in the deserts and high-altitude mountains of both Nevada and California.
I would like to remind you that N.A.B.O. has launched a fundraising campaign with the aim of building the National Basque WWII Veterans Memorial in honor of all WWII veterans of Basque origin.
To achieve this goal, we need your help. It requires all of us – individuals, companies as well as public institutions – to make this worthy initiative a reality.
DONATE NOW! Don’t let veterans be forgotten!
One of the best memories I will carry forward from Jaialdi was meeting so much extended family. Boise is full of Uberuagas, but as a kid, I barely knew they all even existed. For reasons I’ll never know, my dad never really interacted with them – perhaps they were too distant of family and he simply didn’t really know them at all. Regardless, it has been great getting to know some of them better and figuring out how we are all connected. It all starts with three brothers…
I’ve been slowly working on my family tree. If you are a Uberuaga, I’m keen on figuring out how we might be related.
A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.
Primary sources: Basque Boise Walking Tour; Basques in USA: Amerikanuak; Estornés Lasa, Mariano; Totoricagüena Egurrola, Gloria Pilar. Estados Unidos de América. Oeste americano. Auñamendi Encyclopedia, 2025. Available at: https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/estados-unidos-de-america-oeste-americano/ar-50446/
Asko daki zaharrak, erakutsi beharrak.
Old people know much, they were taught by necessity.
During the Zortziak Bat symposium, the current Lehendakari – or President – of the Basque Country (specifically the Basque Autonomous Community), Imanol Pradales Gil, gave a speech which emphasized not only the shared connections between the Basque Country and the Basque diaspora in the United States, but went further to call on our shared values to strengthen those connections. He was seen all over Boise, participating in numerous activities as part of Jaialdi. He was eloquent, intelligent, charismatic and made a strong case for stronger ties between the diaspora and the Basque Country.
A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.
Primary sources: Imanol Pradales, Wikipedia
In researching my “Basque Facts of the Week,” I rely pretty heavily on Google Translate. While I can get the gist of an article written in Spanish, the details often elude me. And the situation for Euskara is even worse – while I have a rudimentary understanding of the language, I certainly can’t understand a typical Wikipedia entry. Tools like Google Translate open up a new world that I can explore as so many things related to the Basque people, culture, and history are simply not available in English.
Google Translate and tools like it are powered by artificial intelligence – AI – algorithms. And language tools like these are proving reasonably successful for majority languages like English where there is a huge body of work to draw upon. After all, at their core, these algorithms are “simply” recognizing patterns and the more data you have, or examples of a language, the better you can recognize those patterns. However, for minority languages such as Euskara, the situation isn’t nearly as strong.
Forbes has a nice article on the various activities going on in the Basque Country to improve the utility of these types of tools for Euskara. For example, Vicomtech, a research foundation headquartered in Bilbo, has developed their own Euskara translation tool called Itzuli. Euskorpora, another nonprofit, is developing a high-quality collection of Euskara samples, called the Basque Language Digital Corpus. This is to provide the best quality database for training tools like Itzuli. (Incidentally, the article also gives a nice snapshot of the current health of Euskara – I recommend reading it.)
Why are such tools important? As one example, television programs can be automatically transcribed so as to capture the content for other types of media or, for example, those who are hearing impaired. In principle, they could be automatically translated as well, effectively dubbing foreign language content in real time. When representatives sit at the European Parliament, these types of tools can translate speeches and comments from some arbitrary language to Euskara, allowing those representatives to participate in their native language. All of this goes toward helping to ensure the vitality of the language.
AI is certainly a controversial topic. It has the power to transform our lives, to automate tasks that are tedious for humans or to recognize patterns in seas of data that are hard for humans to pull out. In my own field of materials science, we use these algorithms to discover new materials and to understand the factors that impact the performance of a material. The dream is to ask the computer to create a material that would have the properties needed for a given application. However, at the same time, it threatens some areas of human endeavor. By mining the collective human output of writing and art, for example, it can be used to generate images and texts seemingly out of nowhere, but really from that reservoir of human creativity. While it opens the door to the masses to be able to generate such content, it threatens those who really push the frontiers of art and literature. Again, in my own field, it does seem that AI is threatening to take away from fundamental understanding, replacing it with simple pattern recognition.
However, I do wonder if AI will in the end be a possible boon for the survival of minority languages like Euskara. When I first went to the Basque Country and told my dad and grandpa, both of whom spoke Basque as their first language, that I wanted to learn Euskara, they both wondered why, as Spanish would be much more useful in the world – so many more people speak Spanish, wouldn’t that, pragmatically, be better to learn? I tried to tell them that it wasn’t because of the utility that I wanted to learn Basque, and while I think they both were somewhat pleased that I took this interest in their mother tongues, the utilitarianism in them still thought it was not the smartest thing to do. Learn a language that is useful, not one only a few people speak.
With AI and the advent of automatic translation services, I don’t have to care what language might be most useful, but rather which languages might be most interesting. I can afford to learn that minority language that only a “few” people speak instead of some less interesting (to me) language that is more “useful.” I don’t have to choose between utility and personal interest. Basque is fascinating to so many people because it is unique. If I don’t have to worry about communicating with people in Spanish or English or Chinese, I can learn a language simply because I want to.
On the flip side, a native Basque speaker wouldn’t have to be so concerned with learning a more global language to get by in the world. In the scientific world, the lingua franca is English. I’m lucky to have English as my first language as it makes writing about and presenting my work that much easier, but it is certainly an extra hurdle for those that don’t speak English as their first language or at all. Automatic translation tools, if they were mature enough, would enable people to work in whatever language they wanted, whatever language they grew up with, and still communicate with the rest of the world. You could imagine a time when someone could write a scientific paper in Euskara and I would be able to understand it completely with the help of these types of tools. They wouldn’t suffer because they chose to write in their minority language – they would still get their results out to the rest of the world.
Would this help with the survival of the language? It seems to me it should. If you didn’t have to learn a second language just to communicate with the rest of the world, if you didn’t have to live your professional life in another language, if you didn’t have to learn a lingua franca just because you needed it, you could live your life completely in your preferred language. You wouldn’t have to choose. Every aspect of your life could be lived in Euskara and you wouldn’t ever have to have a second language to function. Think of the Babel Fish in Douglas Adams‘ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Everyone is able to communicate with everyone regardless of what language they are communicating in. A people’s collective effort could be completely done in their own language, they wouldn’t have to trade time with another language, devoting precious resources to a second language that detracts from the health of their first language.
This of course comes with some drawbacks. Americans are already criticized for typically only knowing one language. This criticism often originates from the idea that only knowing your mother tongue indicates you are less worldly, that you haven’t explored other cultures, that you have a narrow world view. There is a hypothesis – linguistic relativity – that says how we think is defined by the language we think in. If you think in different languages, you naturally see things in different ways. If all of us only ever thought and spoke in one language, whatever it might be, perhaps our ability to understand one another at a more fundamental level would be lost.
However, it seems that the benefit for minority languages would outweigh this consideration. As a speaker of a majority language where I live, I never have to choose how to express myself. But a minority language speaker always does. Should I write in Basque to do my part in boosting the language, or should I write in Spanish or English so that the greatest number of people can understand me? I never have to make this choice, but speakers of minority languages like Basque have to all the time. If we had robust and fast translation tools, those people could write in Basque but I’d still be able to understand what they wrote. I’m sure some nuance would be lost, but I would get the majority of the meaning.
Recent history has pointed to the development of multiple lingua francas, a consolidation of the number of languages spoken around the world. This certainly aids in communication, but it comes at the cost of linguistic and – if you believe the hypothesis of linguistic relativity – intellectual richness. AI tools may reverse this trend, making it unnecessary to have a lingua franca at all, allowing us all to communicate with whomever we choose without giving up our own language.
In the end, all new technologies come with both pros and cons and AI is no different. Whether AI based tools ultimately help minority languages like Euskara survive or not is unclear. I can certainly see that they might help, but whether they do or not likely depends on how they are implemented and used. However, giving minority language speakers the ability to conduct all aspects of their life in their native language certainly does seem like a positive.
