Thirty-Five Years
Yesterday was a special day in history here in Spain, but I only remembered it by a chance remark and by then looking at the calendar. As I have mentioned before, history is not well-thought of here, even recent history that just might repeat itself. The thought of someone walking into the Congreso de los Diputados, the lower house of parliament, and shooting into the air sounds too scary, too possible, and too recent. Because thirty-five years ago that's just what happened.
It was a different Spain in 1981. The forty year dictatorship had come to an end with Franco's death in 1975. A new democracy had just been born and another constitution had just been added to the list of Spanish constitutions in 1978. The monarchy had been restored, along with a multi-party parliament. The Communist Party had been legalized in 1977; the end-all for some who still thought the Soviet Union would one day engulf all Europe. ETA, the Basque separatist group had been planting bombs and killing innocents, trying to take on the nascent democracy as it had the ailing dictatorship of Franco. The military had lost its supreme General Franco, and was facing a reduced impact on social and political Spain. A global economic crisis threatened the wobbly stability, and the new government was running into political stand-offs. In the interest of implementing a stable government that would help Spain, President Adolfo Suarez had just decided to step down to let Leopoldo Calvo Sotelo take over as president.
On February 23rd, at six o'clock, the voting in the chamber of the Congreso began. The voting was to choose whether Calvo Sotelo would be the new president. (In Spanish elections voters choose the party, and then the party chooses the president.) Just before six thirty, a group of Guardia Civiles, carrying machine guns and led by Lieutenant Colonel Antonio Tejero, walked into the chamber. Tejero walked to the front while the others deployed themselves around the chamber. The lieutenant colonel shouted, "Quietos todo el mundo!" (Everybody stay still!) Then Vice President Gutiérrez Mellado, who also happened to be a lieutenant general in the army, stood up to Tejero. But Gutiérrez Mellado was an old man, and Tejero brushed him aside and shots were fired into the air. Upon that firing, Gutiérrez Mellado simply remained standing there, like the soldier he was, while all the representatives hid under their seats, except for Suárez, the outgoing president, and the head of the Communist Party, Santiago Carrillo, who simply remained seating in their chairs.
The voting was being televised, and when the Civil Guards walked in, the cameraman kept rolling the film. He was able to do so for about a half hour. But the radio was the king of the day. Most people still listened to the radio at that time. Televisions were expensive and there were only two channels. They would come on the air around one o'clock and go off the air around midnight. But radio stations would be on all day. The radio station Cadena Ser kept emitting updates all night, including the King's speech at around one in the morning, calling for the golpistas to stand down and abandon their arms. Older people who had lived through the coup d'état that had begun the Civil War in 1936 were listening to their childhood again. Younger people with more to lose were looking at another Dark Age that seemed to be returning from the shadows it had been condemned to. Some, those involved in left-wing politics, started to pack their bags, and a few crossed to Portugal and France, just in case. In Valencia, the entire city was taken over by tanks from the motorized division led by Captain General Jaime Milans del Bosch. He was the only military leader to put soldiers and tanks on the streets, but others were waiting to see what would happen. A few were loyal to the King and the Constitution and were ready to defend them.
At around five in the morning, Milans del Bosch recognized defeat and withdrew his regiment back to the barracks and was arrested. But Tejero held out longer in Madrid. At midnight, another conspirator went to speak with Tejero, publicly to convince him to stand down, privately to negotiate the coup. This conspirator was General Alfonso Armada, the former tutor of King Juan Carlos I. This general was a monarchist but had been a loyal supporter of Franco. His idea was to form a new government led by the King, but with himself as president and with hand-picked ministers, much like the government formed by De Gaulle in 1958. Armada thought the democracy was getting out of hand and wanted to bring Spain back under army control, with the King at the head. It didn't work. Tejero wanted no part of it. The coup failed. Tejero surrendered at midday on the 24th, almost twenty-four hours after walking into the Congreso and shooting into the air, striking fear into all those listening to the radio at that time.
Most of those who were arrested were condemned to just a few years in jail or suspended employment. A few got thirty years; Armada, Tejero, and Milans. All were pardoned in the late eighties, early nineties. The one I remember most is General Armada. He inherited land and a pazo, or manor house in Rivadulla, just outside Santiago, from his father. He turned it into a working farm and cultivated camellias. In the month of February there are guided tours of the farm. My husband and I went one year and we happened to meet the general. He was a pleasant man, and, I was surprised, quite short for a military man. He was also very intelligent, and I couldn't help thinking about the rumors that have abounded every since that day thirty-five years ago, that mention a secret conspirator that was never identified. Some believe it was the King, but others believe the instigator and brains of the coup was the General Armada. We'll probably never know now, the King won't talk and General Armada never did; he died in 2013 at 93 years of age.
Thirty-five years later we are one week away from another vote in the Congreso for a new president after no clear winner in the elections. There is an economic crisis and too much corruption. Extremes on either side hurl wild accusations at the other side, and people are rumbling. I don't think we've progressed very far.
It was a different Spain in 1981. The forty year dictatorship had come to an end with Franco's death in 1975. A new democracy had just been born and another constitution had just been added to the list of Spanish constitutions in 1978. The monarchy had been restored, along with a multi-party parliament. The Communist Party had been legalized in 1977; the end-all for some who still thought the Soviet Union would one day engulf all Europe. ETA, the Basque separatist group had been planting bombs and killing innocents, trying to take on the nascent democracy as it had the ailing dictatorship of Franco. The military had lost its supreme General Franco, and was facing a reduced impact on social and political Spain. A global economic crisis threatened the wobbly stability, and the new government was running into political stand-offs. In the interest of implementing a stable government that would help Spain, President Adolfo Suarez had just decided to step down to let Leopoldo Calvo Sotelo take over as president.
On February 23rd, at six o'clock, the voting in the chamber of the Congreso began. The voting was to choose whether Calvo Sotelo would be the new president. (In Spanish elections voters choose the party, and then the party chooses the president.) Just before six thirty, a group of Guardia Civiles, carrying machine guns and led by Lieutenant Colonel Antonio Tejero, walked into the chamber. Tejero walked to the front while the others deployed themselves around the chamber. The lieutenant colonel shouted, "Quietos todo el mundo!" (Everybody stay still!) Then Vice President Gutiérrez Mellado, who also happened to be a lieutenant general in the army, stood up to Tejero. But Gutiérrez Mellado was an old man, and Tejero brushed him aside and shots were fired into the air. Upon that firing, Gutiérrez Mellado simply remained standing there, like the soldier he was, while all the representatives hid under their seats, except for Suárez, the outgoing president, and the head of the Communist Party, Santiago Carrillo, who simply remained seating in their chairs.
The voting was being televised, and when the Civil Guards walked in, the cameraman kept rolling the film. He was able to do so for about a half hour. But the radio was the king of the day. Most people still listened to the radio at that time. Televisions were expensive and there were only two channels. They would come on the air around one o'clock and go off the air around midnight. But radio stations would be on all day. The radio station Cadena Ser kept emitting updates all night, including the King's speech at around one in the morning, calling for the golpistas to stand down and abandon their arms. Older people who had lived through the coup d'état that had begun the Civil War in 1936 were listening to their childhood again. Younger people with more to lose were looking at another Dark Age that seemed to be returning from the shadows it had been condemned to. Some, those involved in left-wing politics, started to pack their bags, and a few crossed to Portugal and France, just in case. In Valencia, the entire city was taken over by tanks from the motorized division led by Captain General Jaime Milans del Bosch. He was the only military leader to put soldiers and tanks on the streets, but others were waiting to see what would happen. A few were loyal to the King and the Constitution and were ready to defend them.
At around five in the morning, Milans del Bosch recognized defeat and withdrew his regiment back to the barracks and was arrested. But Tejero held out longer in Madrid. At midnight, another conspirator went to speak with Tejero, publicly to convince him to stand down, privately to negotiate the coup. This conspirator was General Alfonso Armada, the former tutor of King Juan Carlos I. This general was a monarchist but had been a loyal supporter of Franco. His idea was to form a new government led by the King, but with himself as president and with hand-picked ministers, much like the government formed by De Gaulle in 1958. Armada thought the democracy was getting out of hand and wanted to bring Spain back under army control, with the King at the head. It didn't work. Tejero wanted no part of it. The coup failed. Tejero surrendered at midday on the 24th, almost twenty-four hours after walking into the Congreso and shooting into the air, striking fear into all those listening to the radio at that time.
Most of those who were arrested were condemned to just a few years in jail or suspended employment. A few got thirty years; Armada, Tejero, and Milans. All were pardoned in the late eighties, early nineties. The one I remember most is General Armada. He inherited land and a pazo, or manor house in Rivadulla, just outside Santiago, from his father. He turned it into a working farm and cultivated camellias. In the month of February there are guided tours of the farm. My husband and I went one year and we happened to meet the general. He was a pleasant man, and, I was surprised, quite short for a military man. He was also very intelligent, and I couldn't help thinking about the rumors that have abounded every since that day thirty-five years ago, that mention a secret conspirator that was never identified. Some believe it was the King, but others believe the instigator and brains of the coup was the General Armada. We'll probably never know now, the King won't talk and General Armada never did; he died in 2013 at 93 years of age.
Thirty-five years later we are one week away from another vote in the Congreso for a new president after no clear winner in the elections. There is an economic crisis and too much corruption. Extremes on either side hurl wild accusations at the other side, and people are rumbling. I don't think we've progressed very far.
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