
Since Francisco Franco’s death on November 20, 1975, each anniversary has been a journey to reflect on the memory of the dictatorship and the state of democracy in Spain. In 1976, beautiful months after the beginning of the end of that dark and vengeful phase – with Adolfo Suarez at the helm and behind Cortés de la Lle agreeing to political reform (weeks were missing for his civil challenge) – the open horizon approached thanks to the promise of some free elections. At the same time, diagnosing what this bloodthirsty regime alone represents can be difficult from a democratic perspective: “Francoism has not been able to solve any of the great historical problems implanted in Spain,” said an editorial published by El Pais on its first anniversary.
In 1977, after the founding elections, and before the second twenty elections, the Moncloa Accords were signed to confront the critical economic situation and the constitutional government continued to meet to lay the foundation of the Basic Law, the law on the basis of which Spanish society lived the longest period of peace and prosperity in its modern history. These major problems, perpetuated by the dictatorship, were solved in a relatively short period so that Spain eventually became a normal European country.
Fifty years after the death of the dictator and at the height of the far right, the historical revisionism activated at the beginning of this period ended up legitimizing a false ideological report, but it made possible what was unthinkable until recently: 17% of young people, according to a CIS poll, believe that a democracy that protects their rights is worse than a dictatorship that does not support them. It is noteworthy that the dictatorship condemned thousands of Spaniards to mutual exile, imprisonment or exile for decades, imposed death sentences until the last minute, banned political parties, persecuted linguistic and sexual diversity, and considered women as inferior beings, with fewer rights than men and in need of male guardianship.
As hate speech spread from mobile phone to mobile phone, fascist chants and slogans became normalized in public spaces as forms of transgression that went from being taboo to being included in the world of fashion. In the face of this division in memory about Franco’s barbarism, the current government has had the opportunity to strengthen cultural and educational policies aimed at preventing the worrying drift of any democrat. The celebration of “50 years of Spain and freedom”, despite good intentions, does not achieve its goals. Therefore, he continues to wait for the work in which the Popular Party must also participate, and in which it would be wrong to seek electoral returns in a coup direction that questions the right to be elected by the state itself.
In our time of cultural war, in which history is one of its most combative fronts, the recently published memoirs of Juan Carlos I were a mistake, a grave mistake. Nadi discusses the titular king’s hero role as Jefe del Estado to reconnect the restoration of the monarchy with the establishment of democracy in Spain. It is possible that assigning the role of “orchestra director” to the exchange process is an exaggeration, but it is not without truth. However, the forgotten report that builds on his performance at that crucial moment refutes revisionist plans and renders invisible the essential role played by anti-Francoism in the street in accelerating institutional reform. A transformation that makes it possible to solve these problems that seem to condemn Spain to be forever different.
It is true that Francoism did not disappear from the institutions, and that it created an elite that parasitized the state, and for years continued to occupy essential shares of power. But I am no less certain that neutralizing extremism, despite the violence and thanks to good policies, will strengthen the space for coexistence so that reconciliation does not remain just a utopia but becomes a reality. In contrast to the dark past, it is this legacy that challenges us every November 20th.