Franco
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In short, during the 1960s, at a time of intense economic development, a society was being created that was increasingly closer to its counterparts in Western Europe in structure, composition, characteristics and degree of development and diversification (including a massive incorporation of women into the workplace). This was a society in which the average life expectancy rose from 69.9 years in 1960 to 73.3 in 1975, while the literacy rate grew between these years until it encompassed virtually all of the population. It was a society that was progressively immersing itself in the culture of mass consumption, and began to enjoy unknown levels of well-being: in 1960, only 1 per cent of households had a TV, only 4 per cent a refrigerator and only 12 per cent a phone, while in 1971 56 per cent of households had a TV, 66 per cent a refrigerator and 39 per cent a phone.157
After giving the go-ahead to the implementation of the Plan de Estabilización, an ageing Franco (he would be 70 in December 1962) gradually withdrew from active and everyday politics in favour of formal ceremonies, the company of his grandchildren and the cultivation of his leisure and recreational interests (in particular, watching television, a hobby he shared with his wife). The deep social and economic transformations during the decade of technocratic development emphasized his withdrawal because, quite simply, the Caudillo could not fully understand the complexity of the new situation and its demands. This was apparent, for example, in his increasingly silent presence at the head of the weekly meetings of the Council of Ministers. In addition, his alter ego, Admiral Carrero Blanco, continued dealing with the effective work of the presidency of the government in a manner as colourless and loyal as it was efficient and satisfactory.
This progressive retreat of the Caudillo from the political front line was accentuated by the serious hunting accident he suffered on 24 December 1961 in the mountains of El Pardo, an accident which could well have cost him his life. The explosion of a faulty cartridge in his shotgun fractured several bones in his left hand and his index finger, forcing him to undergo a painful operation in a Madrid military hospital, requiring a general anaesthetic and a long period of rehabilitation therapy. It was the first setback in a medical history that had been almost clear of incident, according to the testimony of his personal doctor, ‘Vicentón’: ‘his illnesses have been scarce and commonplace. Two or three cases of flu, oral infections, minor food poisoning.’ Not long after the accident and more obviously from 1964 onwards, Franco began to show symptoms of Parkinson’s disease, with its corresponding trembling of hands, progressive facial and body rigidity and a gradual weakening of his already thin voice.158
The incipient physical decline of Franco reinforced the political ascendance of Carrero Blanco, evident in the ministerial reshuffles of July 1962 and July 1965. It was the political triumph of a technocratic programme that sought to promote the growth of the economy as the generator of prosperity for the population, in the hope that from such well-being social peace would thrive, replacing the lack of free democratic participation and giving ‘legitimacy of office’ to a regime that was still authoritarian but acting as an agent of modernization. The sustained economic expansion of the 1960s meant that the ideological discourse of the dictatorship replaced the old ‘legitimacy of victory’ with the new ‘legitimacy of achievement’ delivered in office.159 The Caudillo himself joined that campaign for ideological renovation, attributing to himself conscious paternity of the ‘Spanish economic miracle’ and its benevolent effects on popular consumption. In tune with this campaign, on 1 April 1964, on Victory Day, Franco declared to the press that he was very satisfied:
Economic development, which needs and demands peace, continuity and internal order, is a direct consequence of political development. Without our political movement it would not have been possible to reach the base from which we start today; the nation had superior resources in the past and could not undertake it. On the other hand, economic development simultaneously values, lends it prestige and affirms the political movement and drives its evolution and improvement.160
Despite the new official rhetoric, the Caudillo remained immersed in the doctrine bequeathed by the Civil War, impervious to the calls for tolerance, openness and political developments that began to emerge in Spain. In fact, the only limit he imposed on the experiments of the technocratic government lay in the political sphere: nothing should diminish his supreme decision-making power because ‘it is unimaginable that the victors of a war cede power to the vanquished, saying nothing has happened and everything should go back to the starting point, or when the disastrous Republic was installed.’161 In public he was even clearer: ‘Liberalism is one of the main gates through which Communism enters’, and ‘we have not gone from totalitarianism to Liberalism because we are neither of these things.’162 On the contrary, as he stated before the Cortes in June 1961, the Spanish regime was a compromise ‘between the world of Soviet slavery and that of inorganic democracy’ with a brilliant future founded on ‘an armed plebiscite’:
A state like ours, born out of a truly national movement, could not live with its back to the people, could not let anybody beat it in a clean and true democracy. […] A nation on a war footing is a final referendum, a vote that cannot be bought, a membership that is sealed with the offering of one’s life. So I believe that never in the history of Spain was a state more legitimate, more popular and most representative than that we began to forge almost a quarter of a century ago.163
The government programme of modernization as a promoter of well-being culminated in the declaration of the Ley Orgánica del Estado, which Franco, with his usual parsimony, did not approve until the end of 1966. Subjected to a national referendum in December that year (gaining 95.9 per cent of the vote in support), it would be the last of Franco’s fundamental laws and was a remarkable rationalization of the Francoist political regime. The Caudillo himself participated in the controlled propaganda campaign with an emotive speech on radio and television two days before the vote. He adopted the endearing role of grandfather of the nation and called for popular support to continue his strenuous efforts on behalf of the common good and the progress of the fatherland:
I want you to meditate on what we were and what we are. You should always bear in mind the comparison of the misfortunes of a sad past and the adventurous fruits of our present. […] You all know me: those who are now the older generation have known me since the days of Africa, when we fought for the pacification of Morocco; those who were already mature, when, in the midst of the disasters of the Second Republic, you placed your hopes in my leadership for the defence of the endangered peace; the combatants of the crusade, because you will never be able to forget the emotional times of those shared efforts in the victory over communism; those who suffered under the yoke of red domination, because you will always evoke the infinite joy of your liberation; those who since then have stayed loyal to my leadership, because you are part of that victory over all the conspiracies and sieges that were laid against Spain; those who have lived the incomparable peace of these 27 years, encouraging our people with your songs of faith and hope, because you all know only too well how I always kept my word. I was never motivated by ambition for power. From a young age, responsibilities were cast on my shoulders, greater than my age or rank. I would have liked to enjoy life like so many Spaniards, but the service of the fatherland has occupied my hours and filled my life. I’ve been ruling the ship of the state for 30 years, saving the nation from the storms of the world today; but despite everything, here I stand, still at the helm, with the same sense of duty as in my youth, using what remains of my life in your service. Is it too much to ask that you give support to laws for your exclusive benefit and for that of the nation which are about to be submitted for referendum?164
The propaganda triumph of the success of the second referendum of the Franco era gave further impetus to the efforts of Carrero Blanco to continue the programme of institutionalization of the regime through the designation of a successor to the title of king. By th
en, Franco had already ruled out the possibility of appointing Don Juan as a successor and increased signs of preference for his son, who in May 1962 had married Princess Sofia of Greece and taken up official residence on the outskirts of Madrid, a short distance from the palace of El Pardo. In October 1968 Carrero Blanco submitted to the Caudillo a memorandum on the subject of ‘succession’ in which he reiterated his opinion: ‘What the Spanish people want, my General, is that his Excellency, in the fullness of his powers, designates who will succeed him in his day, and that God would make that day the furthest possible.’ Franco responded tersely: ‘I agree with everything.’165
Finally, on 12 July 1969, aged 77, Franco invited Juan Carlos to El Pardo to announce his decision to appoint him successor ‘to the title of king’ and asked him to accept or reject the offer, ‘there and then’ without consulting his father (who was head of the House of Bourbon and holder of the dynastic rights). Arriving at the moment he most feared, the Prince chose to put the monarchy ahead of the principles of dynastic legitimacy and said: ‘Of course, my General, I accept.’166 He had the certain conviction that, once on the throne, thanks to the executive powers of the head of state, he might start the process of transition towards democracy in a legal and peaceful manner – and all this without committing perjury or ignoring the difficulties implicit in the process. His main tutor and adviser, Torcuato Fernández-Miranda, professor of political law and a monarchist from the Falange ranks, had calmed his fears with solid legal arguments: ‘Your Highness should not worry. Swear to the principles of the movement, which can be changed later legally, one after another. We must go from law to law.’167 Less than a month before the interview with Franco, Juan Carlos had consulted with his father at his Portuguese residence in Estoril about a hypothetical offer of the crown:
If you forbid me to accept, I will pack my bags, take Sofi and the children, and leave. I cannot stay in the Zarzuela [his official residence in Madrid] if he [Franco] calls me and I don’t accept. I have not plotted so that the appointment falls on me. I agree that it would be better that you were king, but if the decision is taken, what can we do? […] And if, as I believe, he invites me to accept, what will you do? Is there another decision other than that of Franco? Are you capable of carrying the monarchy?168
Consequently, on 22 July 1969 Franco proposed to the Cortes the appointment of Juan Carlos as ‘my successor’ at the forefront of a ‘national monarchist movement, a permanent continuity with the principles and institutions’ and guarantor that, ‘when by natural law my leadership will end, which inexorably has to arrive, […] everything is tied up and secured for the future’. The vote, nominal and public by express request of the Caudillo, received 491 affirmative votes, 19 negative, 9 abstentions and 13 absences. Don Juan tacitly accepted the decision and openly refused to overrule his son, although he published a new manifesto reaffirming his status as ‘head of the Spanish royal family’ and his commitment to ‘the peaceful evolution of the current system towards these directions of openness and democratic coexistence’.169
The appointment in the summer of 1969 of Juan Carlos as successor was the culmination of the institutionalization of the Franco regime sponsored by Carrero and his technocratic team. However, it also meant a worsening of the growing fractures at the heart of the government. With the new social conditions generated by intense economic growth, the various Francoist ‘families’ had to define themselves politically in respect of this transformation. The consequent dividing lines created two broad groups defined by their willingness to continue unchanged (the inmovilistas) or to accept evolution (the aperturistas).170 It was an internal fracture that tore apart the different ‘families’, setting the younger members against the most senior in each ‘family’ (the latter having lived through the war as adult combatants, the former being only young children during the same period). The aperturista adversaries of Carrero were the government representatives of those ‘families’ who had lost out to the technocrats, whose hopes of return were based on fostering a timid political openness that went hand in hand with economic liberalization. This approach was assumed by the Falangist youth, led by ministers José Solís Ruiz (trade unions) and Manuel Fraga Iribarne (information and tourism), and political Catholic ministers Fernando María Castiella (foreign affairs) and Federico Silva Muñoz (public works). The openness of the latter two derived from the new democratizing directive of the Second Vatican Council and the Magisterium of popes John XXIII (1958–63) and Paul VI (1963–78). The neo-Falangist pro-reform sentiment was above all the result of generational renewal in its leadership and of acute consciousness of the anachronism of a near-totalitarian party in the contemporary Western context.
Carrero Blanco took advantage of the political triumph of the summer of 1969 to ask the Caudillo for a total reshuffle of the Cabinet, accusing Solis of trying to use the unions to ‘seize power’ with the support of Fraga (whose press law had opened ‘an escalation against the Spanish way of being and public morality’) and Castiella (whose ‘stubbornness’ on the issue of the decolonization of Gibraltar was putting in danger the support of the United States, one of the ‘fundamental axes of our foreign policy’).Weakened by the powerful medication he was taking for his Parkinson’s, and demoralized by the intensity of the crisis, Franco bowed to demands for ‘a fresh and united government’ and authorized Carrero to form a ‘monochrome’ executive in which he remained formal vice president but with the functions of a real president.171 In consequence, the new government, announced on 29 October 1969, broke the tradition of equilibrium between the Francoist ‘families’ and revealed the hegemony of Carrero Blanco and the technocratic team at the heart of the regime.172
Both the origins and outcome of the October 1969 ministerial crisis definitively accentuated the general schism between the Francoist ‘families’ and within them, at the time of the Caudillo’s perceptibly weakening health and mental agility. Fraga detected this physical decline just a month after his removal from office, during a hunting excursion: ‘I found him old and distant, sad and lonely.’ López Rodó would remember that, in view of Franco’s health, from October 1969, Councils of Ministers in El Pardo were limited to the morning (in the past they could last for 12 hours) thanks to the preparatory meetings chaired by Carrero Blanco.173 From then, not only Franco but also the regime entered its final stage of terminal crisis and agony.
End of a Reign, End of an Era
The perceptible physical decline of Franco in 1969 changed the fearsome dictator of previous times into a weak and trembling old man, officiating as a symbolic and strict father figure to a Spain that would have been unrecognizable to his generation. The growing uncertainty created by this situation was aggravated by deep public disagreements between the senior leaders of the regime revealed by the government reshuffle of October 1969. Both phenomena showed that the regime had entered a terminal phase of structural crisis, partly caused by its increasing anachronism compared to the social and cultural change generated by the intense economic development of the 1960s. In 1970 Spanish society was only different from its European counterparts by the peculiar and outdated authoritarian nature of its political system, which showed clearly its increasing inadequacy and patent dysfunction in respect of Spain’s new society (urbanized, industrialized, diversified and secularized), with ideology and culture epitomized by consumption, tolerance and the will for political participation and democratic approval. In the face of this progression, the regime could offer no answers. In fact, the regime itself was the problem.
The difficulties of the split between Carrero’s ruling team and the aperturistas were insignificant in comparison with the problems confronted by the regime in broader political and social spheres. Between 1970 and 1973, the ‘peace of Franco’ definitively broke and the government was nearly impotent before a quartet of serious internal challenges: (1) a high level of labour disputes, with the number of strikes jumping from 491 in 1969 to 1,595 in 1970, and the reappearance of free trade
unions, well established and led by socialist and communist activists; (2) protest in the universities, where, for around half a million students, opposition to the dictatorship became a mark of generational and collective identity; (3) ecclesiastical defection which, in keeping with the doctrine of the Second Vatican Council, rejected National Catholicism, advocated a peaceful evolution towards democracy and was viewed by Franco as a bitter ‘stab in the back’; and (4) the reappearance of terrorist activity, in the first killing by the Basque independence organization ETA in the summer of 1968, which would lead to an escalation of repression of enormous intensity and harshness.174
The patent political failure of the government of Carrero Blanco on these four fronts was exacerbated by the increasing paralysis of decision-making due to Franco’s age and ill-health, which aggravated the internal crisis of the regime and made obvious the political bankruptcy of any idea of a continuation of the Francoist dictatorship. The government crisis was finally exposed in May 1973 with the explosive resignation of the interior minister, General Tomás Garicano Goñi. The ex-minister sent Franco an explanatory letter that was an open denunciation of the dead-end that had resulted from the unchanging path followed by Carrero Blanco:
The political problem of hardliners or inmovilistas and aperturistas survives and is fundamental; I understand […] that the triumph of the first would be fatal for Spain and the sad reality is that every time they are becoming stronger. The approaching day of the succession frightens them […]. I think that a genuine openness is necessary, although I understand that it has its risks, but the country wants it and wants it during the Caudillo’s lifetime, because all the loose ends can be better tied. It seems clear that the power, even moral, which today resides in the head of state, will not pass in any way to his successor. Hence all the measures, like the laws concerning local government, elections and political openness, all fundamental for the future, should be completed soon, in the lifetime of the Caudillo; the sooner we do it, the safer we will be.175