The year 2020 has witnessed a resurgence of witch hunts, not in the literal sense but a metaphorical one. In the current socio-political climate, individuals or groups are often targeted and persecuted based on their beliefs, opinions, or actions. This witch hunt mentality can be seen across different domains, such as social media, cancel culture, and even politics. **One of the main aspects of this witch hunt is the phenomenon of "cancel culture,"** where people are called out for alleged problematic behavior and subsequently face severe backlash, social isolation, or even loss of employment. While calling out and holding individuals accountable for their actions is vital for progress, there has been a growing trend of public figures facing disproportionate consequences for relatively minor mistakes. **Social media platforms have become breeding grounds for witch hunts,** as people express their outrage about perceived wrongdoings with lightning speed and fervor.
Not everybody has supported the campaign to memorialize these forgotten victims of community panic. Fourteen members of Parliament from two right-wing parties in Catalonia voted against issuing the pardons. Another six abstained. And some observers have questioned the value of the overture so long after the fact. “Pardoning long-dead witches will not help them,” Jan Machielsen, a senior lecturer in history at Cardiff University in Wales, wrote this year in response to Scotland’s apology to “all those [in Scotland] who were accused, convicted, vilified or executed under the Witchcraft Act.” Machielsen noted the contrast with the Salem Witch Trials, where survivors had their names cleared in the immediate aftermath and in 1711 received financial compensation from the Province of Massachusetts Bay. Nonetheless, the scholar said, “if we decide that it will help us as a society we should officially acknowledge the injustice.”
It opened in 1998, making use of a rare wealth of documentation in this isolated region of Lluçanès, where persecutions reached a peak in the early 17th century. While researching women s roles in medieval Catalonia, Castell was perusing an archive in a castle in Sort when he came across an account from 1548 about a male servant blamed by neighbors for a rash of unexplained infant deaths and crop failures.
**Social media platforms have become breeding grounds for witch hunts,** as people express their outrage about perceived wrongdoings with lightning speed and fervor. A single tweet or comment can spark a social media storm, leading to widespread condemnation and harassment. The line between constructive criticism and outright bullying becomes blurred, and the personal and professional lives of those targeted are often left in shambles.
Spain’s Centuries-Long Witch Hunt Killed 700 Women
The Village of Sant Feliu Sasserra perches on a hilltop in a pine-forested region of Catalonia. Fifty-three miles north of Barcelona, the place retains a medieval atmosphere, with a tenth-century church in the plaza and cobblestone alleys lined by old sandstone-block houses. A plain, three-story edifice with a pair of Spanish flags draped from the top-floor windows serves as the ajuntament, or town hall. I’ve come to this quiet village of 600 people because of a major reckoning with history that has made headlines across Europe—a vote by the Catalan Parliament to apologize for the more than 700 “witches” condemned in the region over three centuries beginning in 1424, when Catalonia enacted Europe’s first law prohibiting witchcraft.
A view from Serrat de les Forques, the steep hill where Sant Feliu’s townspeople long ago hanged those convicted of witchcraft. Alamy
Catalonia was a center of witchcraft trials in Europe for more than 300 years; widespread illiteracy, and the region’s history of relative autonomy from central authority in far-off Madrid, made it subject to the whims of feudal lords and their minions. But with rare exceptions the records moldered in obscurity, and hundreds of stories remained untold until a University of Barcelona graduate student named Pau Castell made a discovery in the archives of a mountain village near the French border.
While researching women’s roles in medieval Catalonia, Castell was perusing an archive in a castle in Sort when he came across an account from 1548 about a male servant blamed by neighbors for a rash of unexplained infant deaths and crop failures. Under torture, the man implicated his master, another man and two women. The two other men were hanged, possibly along with one of the women.
Castell was horrified by the episode—and intrigued by the absence of academic research on the larger subject. He refocused his dissertation on witches and spent the next decade traveling to town halls and archives across Catalonia. Castell amassed stories and compiled a digital database—recently made available to the public—about witchcraft trials, including the names of the accused, the dates of their trials and the verdicts. Though his first, memorable witchcraft case involved men, he would learn that far more women were convicted of witchcraft.
From his home in Barcelona, Castell tells me that calamitous events—“newborn babies dying, death of cattle, episodes of hailstorms”—often catalyzed vicious persecutions of acquaintances and neighbors. “In these moments of social unease, fingers are pointed at individuals within the community who have already been stigmatized,” Castell says.
Another impetus for Catalonia’s reconciliation movement came from Clàudia Pujol, the editor of Sapiens, a Barcelona-based magazine about Catalan history and culture. She was inspired by efforts in Scotland between 2020 and 2021 to issue pardons for 4,000 women tortured and killed after the nation’s 1563 Witchcraft Act. Teaming up with Castell, now a University of Barcelona history professor, Pujol worked to publicize every known witchcraft trial in Catalonia since 1424. Sapiens published an interactive map online, initiated a social-media campaign, produced videos and organized lectures and workshops in town halls and schools, all under the rubric: No eren bruixes. Eren dones. (“They weren’t witches. They were women.”)
Pujol’s campaign culminated in a vote in the Catalan Parliament this past January to issue posthumous pardons to witches who were executed—some 700 people, mostly women. “We are the heiresses of the witches, the poisoners and the healers,” Jenn Díaz, a member of Parliament who voted in favor of the pardons, said at the time. The gesture, though symbolic, signified a breakthrough moment of accountability for centuries of injustice. Local officials have renamed several streets in memory of the murdered women, and Catalonia reportedly may soon add the study of the witchcraft persecutions to the high school curriculum, to show students how easily ignorance and rumor can spiral into violence.
A notable exception to the historic tendency to ignore the subject is Sant Feliu Sasserra, where 23 women were prosecuted for witchcraft between 1618 and 1648. Six were executed by hanging on a hill just outside the village. Not far from the town hall, and across the plaza from the church, is the Interpretation Center of Witchcraft, on the top floor of a two-story house. It opened in 1998, making use of a rare wealth of documentation in this isolated region of Lluçanès, where persecutions reached a peak in the early 17th century. A guide named Queralt Alberch leads me past plaques tracing the history of the early 17th-century trials and executions, and an exhibit hall filled with jars of dried roots, plants and other natural remedies. “The victims were always single women, and they came from the margins of society,” she tells me. Traditional healers were often accused of being in league with the devil. Alberch plays a harrowing short film on a movie screen that recreates the trial of one Caterina Trenca, using real courtroom transcripts. “If you tell me the truth, the trial will be cancelled and you’ll die faster,” the prosecutor tells the accused. “I’ve done nothing wrong, neither against people nor God,” she responds. Trenca is then tied face-down on a rack in a dungeon and the torturer turns a wheel and the rack tears her tendons and muscles. One notorious witch hunter of the period, Joan Malet, roamed from village to village, identifying witches on the basis of supposed invisible markings on their backs and shoulders that he claimed he alone could see. Thirty-three women were hanged based on Malet’s testimony; the Spanish Inquisition eventually charged him with making false accusations and burned him at the stake in Barcelona in July 1549. A 16th-century print depicts the witch-hunter Joan Malet’s 1549 arrest in Valencia for false accusations—and his subsequent execution at the hands of the Inquisition in Barcelona. Courtesy © Abacus / Sàpiens
For all its viciousness, the system was highly regulated, according to Castell’s research. Courts issued memos stipulating approved torture methods—the most common was suspending an accused witch from the ceiling by her thumbs, known by the Italian word strappata—and demanded extensive record keeping. “Notaries were proper about the torture sessions,” Castell tells me. “They took notes of everything—the screams, the silences, the murmurs. I remember transcribing the court records for the first time, and when I arrived at the torture, having to stop and get a cigarette and then come back.” Legal manuals forbade the authorities to torture a person for more than three lengthy sessions for three days and considered anyone who held out that long without confessing to be innocent. Such laws, however, were often honored in the breach. “If they wanted a confession,” Castell says, “they would keep torturing.” After three centuries of this rural terror, the Spanish Inquisition and the King of Spain extended their power to the hinterlands and largely put an end to the persecutions in Catalonia in 1622, though witchcraft trials continued sporadically, in remote areas, until as late as 1777.
A children’s group dramatizes history in front of the Church of Sant Feliu Sasserra during the annual Witches Fair in 2018. © Sant Feliu Sasserra City Council
Not everybody has supported the campaign to memorialize these forgotten victims of community panic. Fourteen members of Parliament from two right-wing parties in Catalonia voted against issuing the pardons. Another six abstained. And some observers have questioned the value of the overture so long after the fact. “Pardoning long-dead witches will not help them,” Jan Machielsen, a senior lecturer in history at Cardiff University in Wales, wrote this year in response to Scotland’s apology to “all those [in Scotland] who were accused, convicted, vilified or executed under the Witchcraft Act.” Machielsen noted the contrast with the Salem Witch Trials, where survivors had their names cleared in the immediate aftermath and in 1711 received financial compensation from the Province of Massachusetts Bay. Nonetheless, the scholar said, “if we decide that it will help us as a society we should officially acknowledge the injustice.”
The pardons have a deep resonance in contemporary life. As Scottish First Minister Nicola Sturgeon pointed out in her apology, they can serve to remind people of the “deep misogyny”—in the form of “everyday harassment, online rape threats and sexual violence”—that hasn’t yet been consigned to history’s scrapheap. Pujol believes acknowledging institutionalized cruelty can make people consider how unexamined prejudices can harm others, especially the weak and those on the margins of society. “At the end of the day,” says Pujol, “the witchcraft persecutions were done by people exactly like us.”
Get the latest History stories in your inbox?
The witch hunts grew out of the far more routine phenomenon of witch trials, in which one person or a few people were tried for the crime of witchcraft. These trials started not because people began believing that witches existed (this belief both predated and outlasted the witch trials), but because people decided to blame witches for specific, tangible misfortunes they experienced (such as crop damage or sudden illness) and to use the legal system to hold witches responsible for the harm attributed to them.
**Another manifestation of the witch hunt is through the weaponization of political differences.** In an increasingly polarized world, those with opposing viewpoints are often labeled as enemies or vilified as "witches." **Dissent is treated as heresy**, and the individuals expressing their opinions are subjected to smear campaigns, character assassination, or even physical threats. This not only stifles free speech but also prevents the openness necessary for constructive dialogue and progress. It is crucial to acknowledge that while there are legitimate reasons to call out genuinely harmful actions, there is also a danger in jumping to conclusions or overreacting. **The consequences of a false witch hunt can be devastating,** impacting individuals' mental health, reputation, and livelihoods. It is necessary to foster a culture of critical thinking, empathy, and fairness to avoid falling prey to the witch hunt mentality. In conclusion, the witch hunt occurring in 2020 is a result of various factors that contribute to the prevalent cancel culture, the influence of social media, and the weaponization of political differences. **While there are instances where individuals deserve to be held accountable for their actions, it is crucial to exercise caution and fairness while handling allegations.** A collective effort to promote empathy, understanding, and open dialogue can ensure that the metaphorical witch hunts do not overshadow the pursuit of justice and progress..
Reviews for "Historical Context: Comparing Past Witch Hunts to 2020's Witch Hunt"
- John - 1/5 stars - I was really disappointed with "Look out for the witch hunt occurring in 2020". The author's use of fear tactics and conspiracy theories only serves to divide people, rather than provide any meaningful insight or analysis. It's clear that the book is trying to perpetuate a certain narrative and push an agenda, rather than present a balanced perspective on the subject matter. I found the writing style to be alarmist and sensationalized, lacking in substantial evidence or coherent arguments. Overall, I would not recommend this book to anyone looking for an objective and well-researched take on the topic.
- Sarah - 2/5 stars - I was quite underwhelmed by "Look out for the witch hunt occurring in 2020". While the title and premise seemed interesting, the execution fell short for me. The author seemed to rely heavily on speculation and personal anecdotes rather than providing any concrete evidence or data to support their claims. The book lacked depth and failed to offer any new or unique insights. Additionally, I found the writing to be repetitive and redundant at times, making it difficult to stay engaged. I would not consider this book to be a reliable source of information on the subject matter.
- Mark - 1/5 stars - I regretted wasting my time reading "Look out for the witch hunt occurring in 2020". The entire book felt like a paranoid rant, with the author making far-fetched connections and baseless accusations. I found it difficult to take any of the information presented seriously, as it seemed to lack any real substance or credibility. The author's biased and narrow-minded perspective only served to further polarize the discussion, rather than encourage critical thinking or open dialogue. I would strongly advise against reading this book, as it offers little value or intellectual merit.