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Spain’s Evolutionary Pathway from Dictatorship to Democracy
Kenneth Medhurst
Spain’s recent transition from dictatorship to liberal democracy represents a process unique in modern European politics. By contrast with postwar Germany and Italy, the creation of liberal-democratic institutions was not the result of military defeat or the subsequent intervention of foreign powers. By contrast with the later Greek and Portuguese experiences, there was no question of the overthrow of a dictatorship at the hands of domestic and, above all, military opponents. Rather, it was a question of reformist elements, associated with the incumbent dictatorship, initiating processes of political change from within the established regime. Equally, it was a question of reformists seizing and, for some time, maintaining the initiative in the face of opposition both from their own backward-looking colleagues and from the dictatorship’s opponents who were dedicated to a complete break with the old order.
FRANCO’S DICTATORSHIP: A GROWING CRISIS OF AUTHORITARIANISM
To understand this outcome, it first seems appropriate to characterise briefly the Franco dictatorship and the dilemmas it faced when critical decisions about its future became necessary. The regime was, of course, born out of the victory in a civil war (1936–9) of those ‘Nationalist’ forces which Franco had been chosen, by fellow generals, to lead.’ This war was the culminating point in a process of political polarisation that left Franco at the head of a quite broadly-based coalition of right-wing or conservative groups ranging from fascists to liberal monarchists.2 Most of these groups were upper-strata factions lacking solid mass bases. The chief exception was the fascist element (the Falangists), who formed the backbone of the only legally tolerated political organisation in ‘the New Spain’. This ‘Movement’ was in practice, however, used by Franco and his conservative allies as a bureaucratic instrument of political control, and not as a vehicle for the mobilisation of mass political support. It was used, in the main, to foster a process of mass depoliticisation in the aftermath of the Civil War, when repression, economic privation and war weariness continued to render most potential adversaries acquiescent.3 During the same period a significant measure of legitimacy was conferred upon the regime by the Roman Catholic Church, whilst the army provided a relatively united last line of defence.4 For his part, Franco judiciously pursued a divide-and-rule policy that permitted each group within the ruling coalition a measure of satisfaction that always fell well short of total hegemony.
During the 1960s, this regime presided over an unprecedented period of economic growth. Elements within the dictatorship perceived this as a means of securing the maintenance of authoritarian rule. The aim was to lay the foundations of a mass consumer society, whose rewards would continue to divert attention from politics and would promote satisfaction with the status quo. The regime was to benefit from a Spanish variant of ‘the end of ideology’.5
In practice, however, rapid economic change exacerbated or catalysed major conflicts in Spanish society and promoted cultural, social and political changes that placed the regime’s viability in doubt.6 Political arrangements, originally constructed in a primarily agrarian society in the aftermath of a debilitating Civil War, appeared anachronistic when confronted with the tensions of a rapidly changing industrialised society. Similarly, generational change worked to the regime’s disadvantage, for amongst those who had not experienced the upheavals of the 1930s its claims to be a necessary bulwark against disorder steadily lost credibility and appeared to entail increasingly unacceptable political costs.
Such change was observable on four main fronts. First, industrialisation created an enlarged working class with expectations that were increasingly difficult to meet within existing institutions. Growing strike movements, during the 1960s, testified to demands for increased economic rewards and, in time, for political change. Similarly, the activities of unofficial unions under Catholic, Socialist and, above all, Communist auspices exposed the unrepresentative nature of the state’s officially monopolistic unions and their inability to offer credible responses to working-class demands.
Second, growing student dissent indicated, during the same period, mounting alienation amongst a minority – but still a significant portion – of those middle and upper-middle class groups who had habitually supplied the dictatorship with its most reliable sympathizers. Likewise, industrialisation helped to create a more diversified and questioning middle class. Only minorities within this sector were radicalised, but for significant numbers the growing rewards of a consumer society were proving to be insufficient compensation for the dictatorship’s political constraints. Not least, more traditional middle-class and peasant groups, upon whom the dictatorship particularly counted for steady support, found their relative importance much diminished within this changed environment.7
Third, the regime confronted a revival of strong regional-based opposition from Catalonia and, above all, the Basque provinces. Efforts to eliminate forcibly the cultural and political basis of distinctive regional identities were seen to have failed as, in response to repression and as a consequence of socio-economic developments, local nationalist movements reasserted themselves. In the Basque region, ETA’s (Euskadi Ta Askatasuna – Basque Homeland and Freedom) urban guerrilla activities came, in fact, to present the regime with its biggest-ever security problem. Repressive state responses to such challenges not only served to alienate or even to radicalise large portions of Basque society, but also to underline the extent to which the dictatorship was being driven back towards force of post civil-war proportions, in defence of its prerogatives.8
Finally, the 1960s and 1970s saw a steady withdrawal of the Roman Catholic Church’s support. By the time of Franco’s death, Church-state relationships were in a state of unprecedented crisis and the dictatorship was losing much of the legitimacy which had once been conferred by links with the Catholic community. Socio-economic, cultural and political changes in Spain together with changes after the Second Vatican Council combined to push the Roman Catholic Church towards acceptance of a pluralistic model of politics and towards an opposition posture. This had, at the least, potentially serious consequences for perceptions of the dictatorship, especially amongst significant portions of Spain’s middle classes.9
The dictatorship’s diminishing popular base was reflected in the narrowing basis of recruitment into its political elite. Ministers drawn from established right-wing groups had, by the end of Franco’s life, used up their political capital and, in the absence of any effective pro-regime party, they could not readily be replaced. The result was to drive the state towards increased reliance upon civilian and military recruits co-opted from within the state bureaucracy. Franco’s last ‘cabinet’ was, in fact, largely composed of functionaries. Its lack of a real base in the country clearly left it ill-fitted to preside over a succession crisis.10
All these problems had a significant international dimension. Tourism, large numbers of migrant Spanish workers and other links with the outside world opened the country up to foreign influences which called into question the dictatorship’s relevance. Working-class, student, regional and Catholic opponents of the regime all in different ways received encouragement or inspiration from abroad. Equally, it became plain that Spanish integration into NATO or the EEC could only be achieved within the context of major political changes. In the case of the EEC this was especially important for by the end of Franco’s life a consensus had emerged in political and business circles that tended to see EEC membership as a precondition of Spain’s long-term economic health.11
THE SUCCESSION PROBLEM: THE QUESTION OF REGIME MAINTENANCE OR TRANSITION
Franco’s solution to the succession problem was the transfer of governmental responsibility to a team led by his deputy and close ally, Admiral Carrero Blanco, with a monarch trained under the dictator’s auspices ultimately succeeding him as head of state. The monarch was intended to legitimise the continuance of authoritarian rule and, by supplying an element of continuity, was meant to offer symbolic reassurance to the dictatorship’s supporters. In practice, Carrero Blanco’s assassination (1973) much reduced the scheme’s already limited chances of success, for he was perhaps the only figure capable of successfully arbitrating between the discrepant elements associated with the dictatorship. Similarly, as things materialised, the new monarch, Juan Carlos, gained an unexpected freedom of manoeuvre that he was to use in unanticipated ways.12
When Juan Carlos did succeed in 1975, the monarchy in principle had three major options.13 First, it could have sought to preserve the essence of the existing regime. This option was espoused for both self-interested and ideological reasons by small but influential groups close to Franco’s family, some unrepentant Falangists, small but vociferous ultra-conservatives, some senior bureaucrats and, most substantially, significant portions (particularly at senior levels) of the armed forces and police. Collectively, these groups were referred to in contemporary journalistic jargon as ‘the Bunker’.
Second, there was the possibility of initiating change from within the regime with a view to broadening its base, incorporating fresh participants and so generating the legitimacy or consent arguably necessary for long-term stability. Well before Franco’s death, this was a strategy that had been espoused by ‘reformist’ elements within his regime who saw it as the surest defence against more radical change. Such reformists were, however, divided about the particular evolutionary pathway to follow, and they certainly did not all favour parliamentary democracy. For example, some advocated a regenerated Falangist Party, whilst others supported a single party embracing an institutionalised pluralism of groups, perhaps analagous to the Mexican Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI). The absence of clear agreement amongst those concerned was to be a major factor in the success of an alternative reformist strategy.
Third, opposition groups or parties, clearly at odds with the dictatorship, advocated a ‘democratic rupture’ whereby the nature of the future political system would be left an open matter to be decided by a freely-elected constituent assembly, presided over by a provisional all-party government that did not guarantee places to pro-regime forces. This was the preferred strategy of the Socialist Party (PSOE) and Communist Party (PCE), as well as of regional parties, Christian Democratic, Social Democratic and Liberal groupings. It was a strategy that kept open the possibility of a republican form of government. It also implied a loss of political initiative on the part of the existing regime’s beneficiaries, and so pointed to possible confrontations with some of the latter.
Spain’s prime minister at the time of Franco’s death, Carlos Arias Navarro, initially seemed to offer some possibility of a limited reformist strategy. It became apparent, however, that he lacked the necessary will and capacity. He was hemmed in by members of ‘the Bunker’, and was unable to mobilise the support needed to break free from the latter’s constraining influence. The result was to drive his government back in the direction of the first or most defensive strategy, and so to deprive some of his ministers of their once apparently promising ‘reformist’ credentials.14 This was particularly true, for example, of Manuel Fraga Iribarne, a former Francoist minister who, following a period out of government, had seemed likely to re-emerge as one of the chief architects of a new political order. The net result was a vacuum, close to the heart of the existing political system, that others subsequently filled.
In saying this, it is the view of this author that there was nothing inevitable about the final outcome. Different decisions or attitudes on the part of the major protagonists could have produced different and arguably more disastrous results. On the other hand, it seems that a more decisive leader than Arias Navarro would also have found it hard to provide long-term stability on the basis of his initiatives. Given the changed political environment, following Franco’s death, the viability of any apparently defensive strategy was bound to be open to question. Thus in opposition circles the dictator’s departure had aroused great expectations, for it was widely sensed that the removal of the regime’s lynchpin would create an unprecedented crisis of authority without obvious solutions. Nobody, it was assumed, could in the long run continue to mediate successfully between the regime’s constituent groups. It was similarly assumed that the dictator’s undoubted charismatic and legitimising authority could not be readily transmitted to his successors. Even the regime’s adversaries acknowledged that Franco’s unique historical role and his sheer durability had vested him with authority, vis-à-vis his own followers, that gave to his regime a degree of stability likely otherwise to be denied. Equally, there was some acknowledgement that within the wider society Franco had as an individual acquired a degree of respect that was not accorded to the political system as a whole. Even whilst he was alive that personal authority was something of a diminishing asset. Given the extent of the changes in Spanish society, it was clear that his departure was almost bound to create fresh uncertainty in governing circles and new hopes amongst the opposition.
Such expectations were speedily reflected in the surfacing of still technically illegal parties, and in the organisation of still technically illegal strikes. Not least, the government faced openly expressed regional-based dissent which, in the Basque country, continued to take violent forms. Confronted by such pressures the first post-Franco government’s response was to retreat from a relatively conciliatory posture toward reliance upon customary forms of police repression. There were, however, significant elements in the regime’s by now obviously divided political elite who appreciated that undue dependence upon such methods could deny the new monarchy a chance of acquiring a significant measure of legitimacy and hence the prospect of survival.
Juan Carlos himself responded, in July 1976, by replacing Arias Navarro with his own appointee, Adolfo Suárez.15 Initially the latter’s elevation was greeted by unsurprising dismay in both reformist and opposition circles. The king, after all, worked through the legal machinery bequeathed by Franco, and Suárez himself had pursued a successful career under the dictatorship in a series of politically sensitive posts. Nevertheless, it became apparent that Juan Carlos had used the machinery, designed to perpetuate authoritarian rule, to promote an ally who would co-operate with him as chief architect of a transition to liberal democracy.
It is not clear if Suárez came into office with a pre-determined strategy, or whether he responded in ad hoc fashion to unfolding events. The pattern of change that emerged suggests that the king and he were initially agreed on the need for a decisive shift toward constitutional government, whilst the exact nature and timing of change was, in significant measure, a matter of coping with pressures that arose en route from within the governing coalition and from the opposition. Moreover, there are indications that office holders were sometimes constrained, by dint of quickly changing circumstances, to move further and faster than initially envisaged. The legalisation of the Communist Party is a prime example.
THE TRANSITION STRATEGY OF ADOLF SUÁREZ: WORKING TOWARDS CONSENSUS
With hindsight, one can see that the very qualities that made Suárez seem an unlikely promoter of major evolutionary change were the very ones that qualified him for this task. He was almost the archetypal technocrat (‘tecnico’) of the sort that had characterised Franco’s last government but, for that reason, he was of a pragmatic disposition and relatively unencumbered with inherited ‘ideological baggage’. He was an outstanding member of the younger generation of officials who surfaced toward the end of Franco’s life – officials who looked to the state as a source of patronage and career advancement. As such, they were generally conservative in outlook and unsympathetic to radical socio-economic change. Many of them acquired links with banking or industrial interests, and were correspondingly concerned to safeguard existing economic arrangements.16 They were also concerned, as far as possible, to protect the state bureaucratic institutions that had provided them with their initial base. On the other hand, they were too young to have personally experienced the upheavals that led to the creation of Franco’s regime, and so had a commitment to the dictatorship that tended to be provisional and prudential in character rather than deeply psychological or ideological. They also tended to be more cosmopolitan than their elders, and so more open to foreign influences. In particular, they came to see that the legitimacy likely to be conferred by liberal democracy might provide better long-term safeguards for their interests than a narrowly-based dictatorship. For many from such backgrounds, liberal democracy was, at the outset, pragmatically embraced as the political formula most likely to guarantee their preferred form of stability. It was by mobilising such elements inside the state apparatus that Suárez secured his initial base for the delicate task of re-writing Spain’s political rules.
The task was obviously delicate because of continuing opposition from unrepentant Francoists within the regime and because of pressures, on the other flank, for ‘a democratic rupture’. There a...
