News of the massacre quickly sent shock waves throughout the world. Franco and his allies’ goal was to wipe out morale with all those bombs. In that regard, they failed. While Guernica was a terrible blow to Neruda and his friends, it didn’t devastate them. The bombing inspired some of the most impactful art of the period, especially Picasso’s painting Guernica. They knew that the best course of action was the power of the pen or the paintbrush, and they poured themselves into creative acts to stay resilient and to shape works of resistance.
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As the Fascists’ bombs fell on Madrid, the Second International Congress of Writers for the Defense of Culture convened first in Barcelona and then in Valencia over the first weeks of July, finally ending up back in Paris. The meetings were held in different cities to show solidarity with the whole Republic. Around two hundred writers from twenty-eight countries took part in the gathering, including Ernest Hemingway, Thomas Mann, John Dos Passos, Upton Sinclair, Octavio Paz, Langston Hughes, and the Russian poet Ilya Ehrenburg. For Neruda and Delia, who were pivotal in its organization, the congress was a landmark achievement. For the struggling and bloodstained Republic, it raised some spirits.
Neruda’s compatriot rival Vicente Huidobro, a militant Communist, was also in Paris at the time. The two led different delegations working toward the same cause. Huidobro’s Chilean Intellectual Workers Union was a Communist organization, while Neruda’s Alliance of Anti-Fascist Intellectuals’ raison d’être was fighting fascism. The fact that Huidobro cofounded his union with Neruda’s nemesis Pablo de Rokha only heightened concerns that tensions, however petty, could threaten solidarity among those working for the Republic.
In an effort to prevent any conflict, César Vallejo, Tristan Tzara, and nine others signed and sent a short, eloquent letter deploring the fact that “motives of discord” continued to exist between the two comrades, “both of whom struggle for the same cause.” “Taking into account what each of you represent,” they urged the two Chileans to “set aside any resentment and division” so that, “with increasing enthusiasm and with one united will,” they could all better serve “under the flag of the victimized people for the material and moral triumph over fascism.” There were no further public arguments between them.
When the congress was in Madrid, Neruda went to La Casa de las Flores, which was right on the front line of the battle for the city. The block it was on, in fact, had already changed sides several times. Miguel Hernández, in his militia uniform and carrying his rifle, had secured a van to get the books, masks, and other belongings Neruda had left behind. The apartment was in shambles from the bombings and gunfire, books strewn among the rubble on the floor. Delia recalled decades later that amid the ruins of “our” house, “our dog Flak appeared. He had knocked down a window as he sensed our presence there. Pablo rejoiced in seeing him.” Neruda’s consul’s tailcoat and collection of Asian masks were gone, but as Neruda later wrote, the looters had left pots and pans and the sewing machine, which were more valuable than masks in wartime. “War is as whimsical as dreams, Miguel,” Neruda remarked to his companion. It would be the last time the two would see each other: Hernández would die in prison five years later.
Neruda spoke publicly at the congress only once, on its penultimate day in Paris. He talked about the new unity of Latin American writers and people coming together to fight fascism. He ended his short discourse:
Fraternity this great has never, ever situated itself so close to justice and life; in fact, fraternity, justice, and life stand together on the same battle line. All that’s left for us to do now is spread out and fight criminal fascism in all corners of the world. Wherever we fight for the freedom and greatness of mankind, we will be fighting and struggling for Spain, even if we do not say her name. This will continue as long as Spain can continue to defend herself with a savage calm.
The final resolution of the congress urged fellow writers of the world, for the sake of culture and humanity, to not remain neutral.
Lacking a new consular appointment, Neruda arranged to return home to Chile with Delia. Before he did, he wrote a long letter to the Chilean minister of foreign affairs, defending himself against the growing criticism of his public activism. It included the line, set apart from the rest of the text: “I’m not a communist; I’m an anti-fascist.”
Around the same time, he went further, answering a question by the Chilean paper Ercilla: “I am
