‘But what exactly would you do?’
‘Do? I’d represent you … introduce your people to the right circles.’
‘Have you had any business experience?’
‘Me! Of course not.’
Understandably, the Detroit people chose the trained young man, and their business went promptly to hell. He had been great in an interview, but he couldn’t seem to get anything done. The leases that Detroit needed were not forthcoming: import agreements were stalled and remained so. In despair the Americans sought private counsel as to what had gone wrong, and were told, ‘Nothing. Everything’s about the way it ought to be at this stage, and the young man is doing a fine job … inside. But what you need now is somebody like the Duque de Plaza Toro … outside.’
Against their better judgment, the American firm hired the duque for $52,000, and within a few weeks everything was moving smoothly and continues to do so. The duque appears now and then in his Mercedes, hands over his apartment for business negotiations with men of equal breeding who represent other firms, and everyone is happy, especially the young expert who is left free to run the business.
The Marqués de Bassecourt was no figurehead. He worked long hours at his ministry, specializing in tourism, and through watching him I learned something of the new spirit that animates Spain. ‘We literally work seven days a week to ensure that you tourists get an even break,’ Don Luis said. ‘Inspectors, loans to small businesses, new hotels, new roads. For example, how many minutes did it take you this time to get through customs at the airport?’
‘I noticed that. From the time the plane landed till I was free to go, nine minutes.’
‘It’s one of the shortest waiting periods in Europe and we’d like to make it even shorter.’
‘How many tourists last year?’
In his methodical way he took a piece of paper, ruled it into columns and wrote down these startling figures:
Number of Tourists Entering Espaha
Year World United States
1951 1,263,197 44,677
1954 1,952,266 203,029
1965 14,251,428 687,106
1966 17,251,796 733,109
I told him that my dismal experiences in Toledo had more than instructed me about the sudden flood, and he said, ‘All problems like that we’re going to clean up. We’re going to build a first-class hotel there. We’re very excited about the future.’
I asked him if he thought Spain could continue to give the foreign tourist good value, quoting a recent study which gave the following index figures for tourist costs: New York 100, London 94, Paris 90, Rome 79, Madrid 39. ‘We’re aware of the problem,’ he said. ‘We can’t control all prices. Wouldn’t want to if we could. But we can police services, and that we’ll do, because tourism is too valuable to us to be abused.’
‘How about taxis in Madrid?’
He threw up his hands. ‘What city is handling its taxi problem sensibly? Is Madrid as bad as New York, where you simply cannot get a taxi in the evening?’
‘I think it’s worse,’ I said. He shrugged his shoulders, as if he were the mayor of New York, and asked, ‘Who can tell taxis what to do?’
Through Don Luis I met a series of minor government officials who introduced me to other Spaniards, and slowly I began to overhear a type of discussion which earlier I had rarely heard: ‘What is going to happen to Spain when Franco goes?’ In what follows I will not attribute opinions to specific persons, for to do so might cause embarrassment, but they do not come from Don Luis unless I so specify. It was a man from Badajoz who established the theme.
‘You must start, Michener, with the fact that Spaniards are utter bastards to govern. We are Texans cubed.’
Once the marqués said, ‘In the hundred years prior to the generalísimo we had one hundred and nine changes of government, twenty-six revolutions and three major civil wars. Would you agree that an attitude toward government which produces such results needs overhauling?’
‘We lie awake at night wondering what’s going to happen when Franco goes. We say little in the newspapers, but that doesn’t mean we don’t discuss it among ourselves. It is topic one.’
‘Forget the trappings about monarchy this or monarchy that. The fundamental fact is this. We will never go back to the United States pattern of a two-party system. It works for you. It doesn’t work for us. Through some miracle you are able to divide your country into two parts from September to November, then unite it again the morning after election. Believe me, this is a bigger miracle than you imagine. In Spain we also used to divide into various parties and in the campaign we’d say such dreadful things about each other … well, the matter of pundonor comes in. Anyway, on the morning after the election the only thing an honorable man could do was shoot the son-of-a-whore who won. I think that if you were to ask a hundred average Spaniards, a good eighty would say, “Let’s have no more party fighting.”
‘What will take its place? Here we get to the second fundamental. You must view Spain as a nation on a three-legged stool. Church, army, landed families. If any one of the three topples they all go down. We have what you might call an ipso facto oligarchy to which the only alternative is anarchy. Therefore, the three legs of the oligarchic stool must support one another. And this they do, not always happily, so that what we will have when Franco goes is something roughly like the present form of government.
‘What the Protestant norteamericano sees as the Spanish Church is really two churches, and in his mind he must keep them separated, as they are separated in Spanish life. First there is the hierarchy, meaning the cardinals and bishops. With not more than two or three exceptions these men are the creatures of the regime. They were put in office by the oligarchy, were supported by it and will be loyal to it until death. They oppose all liberalism and have been badly shaken in recent years by the winds of reform that have been sweeping through Rome. At the Vatican councils they voted against every proposed change, and when they lost to the liberal wing of the Church, they returned to Spain more determined than ever to save Spain from the liberal errors of their own Church. Opposed to them are the young Spanish clergy who foresee that if Catholicism does not liberalize, it may be eliminated when Franco goes. So a kind of second Church has grown up consisting of educated Jesuits, priests from worker families, seminarians who take the conclusions of the Vatican councils seriously, and all who vaguely want the Church to sponsor social justice in a tired land. The differences between these two arms of the Church are much greater than the differences between Republicans and Democrats in the United States.’
Another said, ‘In your country the Catholic Church argues over matters of liturgy, celibacy of priests, birth control and similar points of procedure. In Spain we are riven apart by fundamental matters like Pope John’s two encyclicals, Mater et Magistra and Pacem in Terris, and especially the Council Schema XIII, with their startling statements on freedom of speech, freedom of belief, freedom of assembly, separation of Church and state, the right of labor and so on. These documents constitute a refutation of everything the Spanish hierarchy stands for, and the young liberal priests know it. If the plan goes through to make Pope John XXIII a saint, his day will not be celebrated in Spain … unless the young priests win the current battle.’
On the other hand, a defender of the Church insisted, ‘If you look at the three elements of our oligarchy, Church, army, landed families, it has got to be the Church which will lead us to liberal revisionism. Watch! In the years ahead you’ll see the conservative army called in to discipline the liberal young leaders of the new Church.’
‘The army is much more the key to Spain than outsiders imagine. I include the Guardia Civil as part of the army. In the press you can say things against the Church and maybe you’ll get away with it, because everyone wants to slow down the Church a little bit. But you are absolutely forbidden to say anything against the army. They rule. You asked me the other day why individual issues of newspapers are sometimes confiscated. You won
dered if the editor had said something against the Church or Franco. It’s almost always because they said something against the army. That cannot be tolerated. You also asked which of the three claimants to the throne will finally be installed as king, supposing we have one. That the army will decide.’
I asked, ‘Then why doesn’t the army rule outright?’
‘Because if it did there would be rebellion, and the army knows it. Like the German army the Spanish army has rarely been sagacious. If it were able to rule, we’d probably have a military dictatorship right now. But, of course, if it were a sagacious dictatorship, it would confirm most of the freedoms we now enjoy, so in the long run things would be about the same.’
Another informant challenged these statements about the army. ‘Because the army is conspicuous don’t overestimate its importance. Of fifteen recent cases when editions of newspapers were confiscated by the censors, only one involved the army. Fourteen involved the hierarchic Church, which is heavily protected by the regime. Jesuit papers were closed down because they supported young priests against police brutality. Two were shut down for criticizing the reactionary attitudes of the hierarchy. Several were disciplined for publishing articles on the succession. And five saw their editions confiscated because they were too enthusiastic in defense of freedom. One suffered because of its editorial, “Protest is not always morally wrong.” The censor held that it was.
‘The landed families, the third leg to the stool, play a powerful role in Franco’s Spain because he can trust them. They’re conservative. They’re smart. They’re self-disciplined. Whether they can drag themselves into the twentieth century I sometimes doubt. A fellow like your friend, the Marqués de Bassecourt, knows what the score is. So do hundreds like him, but they aren’t the ruling families, which are at least three hundred paces further to the right than chaps like Bassecourt. I see the families continuing as a kind of unelected senate, tough, conservative, determined. A hundred years from now life in rural Andalucía will be about what it is right now, if the families have the say. But the Church and the army will bring pressure on them to liberalize things a bit.’
‘The hope of Spain lies in a group you haven’t mentioned—the new industrialists … the fellows who are building the apartment houses along the Mediterranean … the big printing plants in Bilbao … the factories in Barcelona. They know. They travel to Germany and Poland. They have suppliers in Rome and New York. They don’t fill any of the government positions yet, but do something more important. They supply the taxes and they insist upon modernization of social patterns, education, military service; I have great hopes for this new class of Spaniards.’
I asked why they didn’t exercise more control in government, and my informant said, ‘Because this is Spain and control will always rest in traditional hands, like that of the Church, the army and the landed families. If the industrialists made one false move they would be wiped out overnight and their businesses expropriated.’
I suggested that if this were done, Spain would be bankrupt again. ‘That has never bothered a Spaniard. If he feels the industrialists are modernizing Spain too fast, he’ll eliminate them, even though it means economic chaos for another fifty years. But the question you pose is academic. The industrialist knows he must move forward slowly with the rest of us. That’s why I place so much hope in his accomplishments. Within the Spanish pattern he’s going to create wonders.’
I asked what technical form the government would take after Franco’s departure, but the man to whom I spoke was not interested in so specific a question. ‘The Damoclean question is quite different,’ he said. ‘What is labor going to do? The other night I watched you in the hotel lobby when that disgraceful television program came on. The one where the government reporter asked fifty day laborers what they thought about Spain’s system of controlling labor unions. And each of the fifty came to the microphone and said, like a parrot, “I think the syndicates are wonderful because they protect the working man.” You were embarrassed and looked at me to see if I was too. I didn’t want to express myself in public, so I kept staring at the television and that preposterous parade. I felt humiliated. Because you knew and I knew that at the slightest spark those fifty workmen would ignite and blast that damned-fool government man right into oblivion. I wouldn’t like to guess right now what role labor will play. If the army, backed up by the Church and the landed families, tries to imprison all labor in the national syndicate much longer, there’s got to be trouble. But the liberal wing of the Church knows this, and if it attains power it will press for a freer labor law. When this happens Spain will move to a position similar to Italy’s or Germany’s.’
In a different part of Spain I asked a group of workmen what they thought on this question. ‘You’re going to see strikes all over Spain. We’ve been told for the past twenty-five years that the loss of some of our freedom wasn’t too high a price to pay for national solidarity and peace. So we paid it, and all we got was solidarity and peace. The good things went to the rich, and the Church and the army. We got damned little. Now we have to adjust the balance.’
After this discussion of five fields—the controlling trio of Church, army, landed families plus industrial leadership and labor—I returned to my original question: ‘What will happen when Franco goes?’ and a government official said something that should be remembered: ‘You speak as if you thought Generalísimo Franco sat in his office and personally passed all laws. How do you suppose Spain has been governed for the last fifteen years? By a committee, of whom Franco is the most powerful. Much of our government moves forward without involving Franco; He’s invaluable as the symbol around which we coalesce. And he can both initiate and veto. But Spain without Franco would still exist. It would have to. So after he’s gone I personally suppose that things will continue pretty much as they have in the past. Our great loss will be in a symbol around which to rally. That poses a real problem, but the government per se will go right on.’
‘Without trouble?’ I asked.
‘Without revolution, if that’s what you mean.’
A dozen times, a hundred times I heard reassurances like this and always I pressed to the logical consequences, asking, ‘Then you think the transition at Franco’s death will be peaceful?’ Almost without exception the Spaniards replied, ‘Once before, we had civil war and we know what that means. Almost any price we might have to pay to avoid rebellion would be worth it.’ When I pressed further to identify what ‘any price’ would include, the typical answer was, ‘We don’t insist on free elections … or the two-party system … or this king or that … or who actually takes Franco’s place in the palace. But a better social justice than we have now … that we do insist on.’ I asked what would happen if it were denied, and the answer of a man in Pamplona can stand as typical: ‘If the army and the Church tried to deny us social justice I suppose we’d have to fight.’
Back in Madrid, I returned to my earlier question: ‘What kind of government?’
‘It’s got to be a continuation of the oligarchy. Once Spain is agreed on that, and I think we are so agreed, then the precise form doesn’t matter too much. But to the outside world it’s pretty important. The choice is between a dictatorship of some kind or other or a restoration of the monarchy. I believe it will be the monarchy. After all, our constitution states that we are a monarchy and Franco has openly announced that he serves merely as caretaker for that monarchy. There would be an advantage to us in having a king again, because it would make us popular in England and the United States, both of whom love royalty. I suppose nothing we could do would make us more acceptable in the States.’
I asked which of the two claimants, whose conflicting chances I had become acquainted with in the picture gallery at the Coto Donaña, would probably be appointed the next king. ‘Ah, but there are three pretenders! We must choose among three.’ I said that I knew about Don Juan, the legitimate heir living in exile in Portugal and very unpopular with Franco. And I had met his son
Don Juan Carlos, living in Spain and popular with Franco. Who was the third? ‘A carry-over from the Carlist Wars of the last century. The Carlist pretender … Don Hugo Carlos, who married that pretty Dutch princess who changed from Lutheran to Catholic. I think they live in Paris, and sometimes you see his name as Carlos Hugo, because he only added the name Carlos for effect and we aren’t sure whether it goes in front or back. He’s a poor third in the running but he does claim the throne and many support him.’ When I asked which of the three would win, my informant bit his lip for some moments and said, ‘Some time ago Franco authorized Vice-President Muñoz Grandes to conduct a secret poll among the military leaders and to everyone’s surprise they favored bringing back Don Juan from Portugal … even though Franco had said he didn’t want him. I understand the generalísimo was irritated by the vote, but in my judgment it was right. I know young Juan Carlos quite well and he’s a weak sort. Maybe when he’s fifty he’ll be strong enough to govern. So I say give the throne to his father now and give the boy time to grow up. I was in Sevilla when he was presented to the aristocracy of Andalucía and he cut a poor figure.’ (Since the taking of this poll Muñoz Grandes has been succeeded in the vice-presidency by Admiral Luis Carrero Blanco, a sixty-four-year-old conservative.)
However, an American businessman who had participated in an extended series of negotiations in which Juan Carlos took part gave this report: ‘A most attractive young man with everything he needs in order to reign. By that I mean good looks, a beautiful wife and fine children. He has the manners required for public functions and more than enough intelligence to discharge the duties of a constitutional monarch. Spain will be lucky if he’s the one chosen.’
I asked if having a king once more would mean much to Spaniards. ‘The fact that the extreme right is so strongly in favor of it makes me have doubts. But Spain is a very difficult country to govern, and I think that having a continuing symbol which remains above politics might give us help. You read our papers. You see how we play up the successes of nations with royalty. Denmark, Greece, Norway, especially England. We are told year after year, “Countries with kings are happy. Those without are miserable.” Believe me, since the Estados Unidos installed Jacqueline Kennedy as a kind of queen, your popularity in Spain has risen considerably.’
Iberia Page 47
