No one in Ripoll forgets where they stood six years ago. On August 17, 2017, residents of a town with about 10,000 people (as reported by Idescat in 2022) learned that six Moroccan youths, who had grown up and integrated into the community near the Pyrenees, were responsible for a massacre. The Barcelona and Cambrils attacks had left 16 dead and 160 injured. Many felt a jolt inside, a sense that something had broken. The six believed they carried out the jihadist act under the leadership of Imam Abdulbaki Es Satti.
After August 17, Ripoll tried a coexistence plan that never took off due to budget limits.
Six years on, the wound remains open. Xenophobia appeared and spread across the town. The municipal elections on May 28 brought Silvia Orriols to power with a platform linked to the Aliança Catalana, a party known for strong regionalist and far-right tones. The social fabric frayed as fear and resentment grew tall.
“Ripoll avoided discussing the attacks publicly, which helped spread a fascist message”
The neighborhoods wanted to bury the pain, yet the pain kept resurfacing. Municipal workers spoke of efforts to repair the hurt and stitch the community back together, despite the lack of a sustained funding plan. What followed was a quiet struggle to address trauma without yielding to anger.
The imam of the Ripoll mosque in El Fathe prays. jordi otix
That summer, after the jihadist assaults, political leaders and experts converged with one aim: to keep coexistence intact and life in the town peaceful. A major concern was starting the school year only a month after the attacks. A municipal technician recalled that in classrooms, some argued that the attackers did not reflect the larger community. The fear of a holy war at school gates lingered, yet the new term began without incident, and many felt relief, as recalled by former mayor Jordi Munell.
Kids turning to bombs
Ripoll’s tensions surfaced only years later in the municipal elections. Catalan Alliance emerged as the sole ultra party contesting the vote in 2019, tripling the support seen by xenophobic factions. What shifted the political winds?
“Details from the attack’s summary showed videos of children making bombs, which brutalized public opinion and deepened anger toward immigrants,” said a municipal social worker. The pandemic and rising prices had already fueled fear. The lockdown had driven a growing focus on individual survival, and anxiety aged with the population, especially among older residents.
“People fear immigrants and the unknown. They see the town changing, but few talk openly about it,”
A mosso reflected on the mood as six years passed. Since then, about 400 newcomers arrived in Ripoll, lifting the share of foreign residents from roughly 10% to 13%. Many find precarious work in cleaning, food service, forestry, slaughterhouses, or light manufacturing. Ripoll still records one of the lowest unemployment rates in Catalonia, around 7.8%, yet broader parts of the economy struggle, and some residents remain undocumented and eligible for social aid.
A group of immigrant children playing in a square, a photo by jordi otix
Among the Maghreb communities, many speak Amazigh or Berber dialects. Some observers note that the town’s youth are away often, seeking work or study in Vic or Barcelona. Today, roughly a quarter of Ripoll’s population is over 65. Social workers describe a conservative, almost medieval streak among some local voters who once supported the former Convergència and Junts groups and now favor or rioters’ rhetoric from the Orriols camp. They argue that shuttered stores and industries are being replaced by immigrant-led businesses, eroding perceived traditional privileges.
The long shadow of the attacks turns into a difficult reality for daily life. The Mossos d’Esquadra acknowledge low crime rates, yet the sense of insecurity remains high: attacks feel possible, and many residents fear the unknown and the changes around them. Parents note that education levels have dipped, echoing concerns about safeguarding the town’s future.
No easy path to living together
In 2017, warnings existed that coexistence would require deliberate effort. Ripoll drafted a coexistence plan with concrete steps, including encouraging contact between communities and providing resources to bridge divides. But the town struggled to secure funding, and the plan never reached full implementation. Local officials and employees recall repeated requests for financial support that never materialized, leaving progress stunted.
The issue of schooling remained central. Teachers reported that while overt conflicts were rare, a barrier persisted. A principal described how a “thick curtain” separated classrooms from broader social tensions. Educators implemented programs, but progress was uneven. The goal of equal opportunity remained a work in progress, with some students feeling second-class due to the surrounding climate and past events.
The Generalitat provided a yearly allocation of around 70,000 euros for social services and civic centers, yet resources were not enough to sustain a comprehensive coexistence program. Staff noted that extracurricular activities tended to be dominated by immigrant families, and joint community projects were slow to take hold. A social services professional emphasized that coexistence and immigration were not the same thing and called for broader, sustained attention to mental health and social cohesion.
Discrimination and suspicion lingered. Conversations with neighbors revealed a sizable divide, and a minority within the town began volunteering to fill gaps left by inaction. With the town’s future at stake, many felt that more decisive action was needed from authorities to heal divisions and build trust.
Ripoll sits between two rivers, historically a crossroads for travelers. The town’s many bridges symbolize connections that are now frayed. The people who still work to bring neighbors together push through the memories of the past to rebuild a shared future.