For more than four decades, the flatlands west of Zaragoza have lived by the rhythm of car production. Now, the same territory that once welcomed General Motors as a symbol of American industrial power is preparing for a very different arrival: up to 2,000 specialized Chinese workers tasked with launching one of Europe’s largest electric battery factories. As reported by El Pais, the transformation unfolding in Figueruelas and its surrounding towns reflects not only a local upheaval, but a global shift in industrial power, technology, and labour.
The story of this region’s dependence on the automotive industry can be traced through the Berges family. Germinal Berges, born in 1936, grew up as a farm labourer before emigrating to Germany in the 1960s, part of a wave of Spaniards seeking work abroad. He laboured in mines and construction, living for a time in barracks. When he returned to Aragon, fortune intervened. General Motors chose Figueruelas, near his hometown of Pedrola, as the site for a major factory, investing what would amount today to around three billion euros. When the plant opened in 1982, Berges was hired into maintenance. It was not a prestigious job, but it was stable. For his family, as his daughter Manuela recalls, it felt like winning the lottery.
That factory has never stopped producing cars, but its owners have changed with the tides of global capitalism. General Motors sold Opel to the PSA Group in 2017, ending the American chapter. In 2021, PSA merged with Fiat Chrysler to form Stellantis, which now operates the plant with around 4,000 workers, assembling roughly 300,000 vehicles a year, including electric models. Figueruelas, with just 1,300 inhabitants, has remained one of Spain’s most important automotive hubs.
The latest turning point arrived just over a year ago, when Stellantis and the Chinese battery giant CATL announced a joint venture to build a lithium battery gigafactory next to the existing plant. Valued at up to 4.1 billion euros and supported by significant public subsidies, the factory is expected to begin production by the end of this year. On paper, it looked like another headline-grabbing investment in a region accustomed to industrial announcements. But as El Pais has detailed, this project carries an unprecedented twist: the arrival of a large contingent of Chinese workers to assemble and start up the plant.
Neither Stellantis nor CATL have published exact numbers, but the regional government of Aragon has acknowledged that between 1,500 and 2,000 specialized workers from China will come for the launch phase. For the small towns scattered around the factory, this figure is both exciting and unsettling. Manuela Berges, now mayor of Pedrola, knows better than most what the automotive industry has given her town. Yet she worries about housing shortages and pressure on healthcare services. In nearby Grisén, with just 630 residents, mayor Marcos Lahoz has been warned that his municipality may need to accommodate around 200 workers. “We don’t have the capacity for that,” he says bluntly.
The anxiety is sharpened by uncertainty and limited information. Construction of the gigafactory is already underway, and Chinese flags briefly flew at the site during the foundation-laying ceremony attended by Spanish and Chinese officials. Yet the much-discussed influx has not fully materialised. A handful of young Asian workers can be seen entering and leaving the site, attracting curiosity but little interaction. Veteran Stellantis employees say the main wave will arrive later in the spring, and even then not all at once. Union representatives estimate that no more than 800 Chinese workers will be present at any given time, housed in rented apartments, hostels used by seasonal farm workers, or even prefabricated units.
Crucially, these workers are not expected to stay. Their role is to build the factory, install equipment, and train local staff. “In Europe, we don’t know how to build or operate a gigafactory like this,” explains a long-serving worker quoted by El Pais. “They have to teach us. Then, little by little, they will leave.” Stellantis has confirmed that once the plant is fully operational, its workforce of around 4,000 will be local.
For older workers, the situation feels strangely familiar. In the 1980s, specialists from the United States, Germany, and Japan helped launch the original Opel plant before returning home. That earlier wave brought vitality to local bars, shops, and rentals. Some residents hope history will repeat itself. Others are sceptical. Félix Alegre, who runs a grocery store in Grisén, wonders whether Chinese workers will integrate in the same way. He doubts they will fill the bars, though he has heard rumours of a new Chinese restaurant opening nearby.
The housing market is already reacting. Rents in towns like Pedrola and Figueruelas have nearly doubled in recent years, rising from 350 or 400 euros to around 650. A local real estate agent recalls being visited by a Chinese “scout” searching for spacious, affordable houses across several towns. He fears that an influx of temporary residents could further inflate prices, pushing housing beyond the reach of locals.
Beyond the immediate concerns lies a deeper question about power and dependence. The gigafactory symbolises Europe’s race to electrify its car industry, but it also highlights how much that transition relies on Chinese expertise. Workers from a country once synonymous with cheap labour are now arriving as teachers in a cutting-edge sector. For unions, this reality underscores the need for guarantees that public investment translates into long-term local employment.
As Germinal Berges approaches his 90th birthday, he remains in Pedrola, witnessing yet another transformation of the land that shaped his life. From agriculture to American cars, and now to Chinese batteries, Aragon’s industrial story mirrors global shifts in economic gravity. Whether this new chapter will deliver the same sense of security that General Motors once did remains uncertain. What is clear, as El Pais reports, is that the future of this quiet corner of Spain is now inseparably tied to forces far beyond its fields and villages.
