A Defiant Franco Answers His Critics

Holding himself stiffly in his sashed and braided blue uniform, Generalissimo Francisco Franco stepped out onto the balcony of the Royal Palace overlooking Madrid's Plaza de Oriente. Instantly, the human sea of 150,000 faithful down below him thrust right arms forward in salute. Then the crowd launched into Face to the Sun, the anthem of the right-wing Falangist shopkeepers and tradesmen who sided with Franco when he began his bloody struggle for power 39 years ago and have been unswerving in their support of him ever since. Franco spoke only three minutes in his thin, barely audible voice, but that was all he needed. Spain was under assault by "a leftist Masonic conspiracy," he said, and was a victim of politicking "by certain corrupt countries." But no one, he declared, should forget that "to be Spanish is to be something in the world. Arriba, Espana!" Up with Spain!

Genuine Fealty. Only four other times since the end of World War II had Franco felt the need to call for such a massive show of support. His purpose last week was not so much to intimidate the regime's enemies within Spain as to respond defiantly to the paroxysm of anti-Franco rage that swept Western Europe following Madrid's executions of five terrorists convicted of murdering policemen (TIME, Oct. 6). In this he succeeded. Flanked by his wife Carmen and his heir-designate Prince Juan Carlos de Borbon y Borbon, Western Europe's last remaining dictator was plainly moved by the genuine emotional outpouring of fealty.

Yet the frailty of el Caudillo, who has looked all of his 82 years since he suffered a near-fatal illness in mid-1974, was a dramatic reminder of how much more the regime needs to do to relax its often harsh rule and prepare Spain for a smooth transition into a post-Franco era once the Generalissimo dies or, less likely, steps down. At a time when Spain badly needs closer ties with Western Europe to help sustain its rise to prosperity and ease the coming transition, an all but irrational outburst of anti-Spanish emotions in European capitals has left the country more isolated than at any other time since the 1940s.

The demonstrations that first flared up across Europe continued into last week, often turning violent. Mobs besieged embassies and consulates in about a dozen cities. Flames gutted Spain's mission in Lisbon; a bomb exploded in the garden of the embassy in Ankara. In Rome and Milan, angry mobs set fire to Spanish tourist buses, and assaulted shops with Molotov cocktails. Danes smashed the windows of Spain's embassy and trade mission in Copenhagen. Paris was engulfed by the worst outburst of violence since the 1968 stu dent demonstrations as peaceful marches by leftists disintegrated into full-fledged rioting.

By midweek every Western European government save Ireland had recalled its ambassador from Madrid or kept him at home for "consultations"--gestures of protest against the executions. In Brussels, the Common Market's governing Commission dealt Spain what one official termed "the strongest political rebuff" ever given by the EEC; it recommended suspension of negotiations that had been under way since mid-1973 for a new preferential trade agreement between Spain and the Market. The impact of the EEC's move could be painful, as the nine Common Market members buy nearly half of all Spanish exports.

Death Throes. While the anti-Spanish street demonstrations were clearly the handiwork of left-wing groups, a much broader spectrum was represented by the astonishing number of political leaders who damned the Spanish regime with rhetoric usually reserved for wartime enemies. Britain's Foreign Secretary, James Callaghan, almost joyfully asserted that the Franco government was in its death throes, and Italian Christian Democrat Paolo Cabras branded the regime "a continuing curse against all free men." Swedish Prime Minister Olof Palme described the Madrid government as so many "satanic murderers"; Reiulf Steen, chairman of Norway's ruling Labor Party, defined the Franco regime as "a black barbarity." Steen implored his countrymen to forgo their winter vacations at Spam's popular resorts: "After what has happened, those who go to Spain to get a suntan ought to be ashamed of themselves."

Papal Displeasure. Just about everyone with some claim to public authority seized the opportunity to take a poke at Madrid. In Turkey, Ankara's Mayor Vedat Dalokay not only denounced the Franco regime for having "committed a crime against all humanity," but ordered that the supply of water and electricity to the local Spanish embassy be cut off (the Turkish government quickly overruled him).

Most painful for Franco, perhaps, was the displeasure demonstrated by the Vatican. Pope Paul VI denounced the executions as "murderous repression" --language exceedingly rare for the Holy See to direct toward any state and especially Spain, with which it has long maintained very strong ties.

Within Spain, reaction against the executions was mostly limited to the four Basque provinces in the north. There, a two-day general strike was called to protest the executions of the two terrorists who had been members of a Basque separatist organization (see box page 38). Police had to break up protest marches in half a dozen towns. In Algorta, a suburb of Bilbao, six Basques were injured when the Guardia Civil opened fire on demonstrators.

Madrid swiftly reciprocated for Europe's repudiation of Spain. Premier Carlos Arias Navarro denounced the international pressure on Spain to stop the executions as "an intolerable aggression against Spanish sovereignty." Arias bitterly wondered aloud why there had been "no pious voice" raised for the widows and orphans of the nearly two dozen Spanish policemen killed by terrorists since January 1974.

Violent Xenophobia. Arias' statement apparently touched a nerve of the Spanish psyche that has been highly responsive for centuries: a conviction that Spain is different from the rest of Europe and that Europe resents this. As TIME'S Madrid bureau chief Gavin Scott reports, many Spaniards see their country as being attacked from abroad simply because it is determined to "follow its own road." Some of the banners at the mass rally mirrored this feeling: "When will Europe stop envying Spain?" asked one. Another crudely depicted a Spaniard defecating on a map of Europe.

At times last week this xenophobia became violent. While Franco addressed the rally, gangs of rightist youths roamed Madrid's streets, roughing up foreigners. Windows were smashed at the posh Castellana Hotel, apparently for no reason other than that the main entrance was flanked by poles flying foreign flags. The U.S., which did not join in the international denunciations, was pointedly spared such treatment. One group of young Franco supporters paused during a march in Madrid's diplomatic quarter to shake hands with the machine-gun-toting Spanish policemen guarding the U.S. embassy.

In fact, the U.S. found itself in an uncomfortable position. The executions occurred just as Secretary of State Henry

Kissinger was about to sit down with Spanish Foreign Minister Pedro Cortina Mauri in New York to continue negotiations for a new "friendship and cooperation" agreement between the two countries. At stake for the U.S. are its three Spanish airbases, which would be needed if the U.S. had to resupply Israel or counter Soviet intervention in the event of another Middle East war, and its nuclear submarine base at Rota. These installations, argue American officials, will also give Washington leverage in influencing Spain's transition to the post-Franco era. For Spain, the accord means about $750 million in military and economic aid, plus what Madrid sees as the implication of acceptance that goes with a military arrangement with the U.S.

When Washington did finally issue a statement on the executions, it was carefully phrased to refer to the acts by the terrorists as well as the death sentences, expressing regret at "the cycle of violence that led to this tragic out come." U.S. officials pointedly and persuasively note that those executed were shot not for political or ideological "crimes" but because they had cold bloodedly killed policemen. To be sure, the hasty trial they received in Spain's military courts scarcely qualifies as justice according to Anglo-American standards. Yet, the terrorist organizations to which they belonged have openly declared their aim to harass the Franco government by killing police officials.

This is a policy that would surely not be tolerated by any European country.

Expressing a sentiment that ought to be valid for all European states, an East bloc diplomat last week observed:

"Communist countries don't like cop killers, no matter what their politics."

Brutal Act. Why then has Western Europe reacted with such intensity to the events in Spain? In some cases the executions merely triggered a long-harbored contempt for the Madrid government. As Britain's James Callaghan put it last week, "Spain's self-inflicted iso lation is brought about not just by a single act of brutality, but by injustices over a generation or more."

Historians estimate that in the first five years of the Franco regime, some 200,000 Republicans were executed or died in prison. But Spain has changed a great deal since the 1930s. Although it remains very much a dictatorship, what now keeps most Spaniards loyal to the regime is not repression but prosperity. Since 1960, the country has had "only" 13 executions, including the latest five. While that record scarcely qualifies the Franco regime as a pioneer in civil liberties, the situation is far worse in Communist dictatorships, where political dissidents are frequently committed to a living death in secret police-run "mental hospitals" with much less outraged notice in the West (see box page 37).

Thus the eagerness with which Western Europe pounced on Madrid may be comprehensible only as an almost psychological need to repudiate Franco totally and finally. This may be, in part, the catharsis by which the West purges itself of guilt for having tolerated and even courted Franco when his anti-Communism was prized during the cold war. Reports TIME'S Paris-based chief European correspondent, William Rademaekers: "There is much more emotion in this than logic. Franco remains a very special bete noire to most of Europe's leaders and to the leftist elite. Some of them, like the British union boss Jack Jones and Italy's Socialist leader Pietro Nenni, fought for the Republicans during the Spanish Civil War. Others were students in that era and grew up on a steady diet of real or imagined Franco atrocities.

"It is highly unlikely that all this furor will bring about Franco's demise. But if it did, what would be the cost to

Spain? No one in Europe is sure. What is worse, no one seems to care. The object of the exercise is to get Franco. The romantic memories of the International Brigades and the frustrations of four decades have finally coalesced in one hate-object that binds together Western Europe's Communists, Socialists, students, Cabinet ministers and Premiers. Ironically, Franco has managed to do what Hungary and Czechoslovakia could not--unite Europe in a common cause."

The anti-Spanish furor has probably had an effect opposite the one intended. Not only has much of the country rallied around its Caudillo, but the more conservative cliques in Madrid appear strengthened. "Any way you look at it," moaned an aide to Premier Arias, "the executions and reaction to them are a big step backward for Spain and her evolution to democracy."

Angry Police. Further bolstering the conservatives was the public's horrified reaction to a new outburst of terrorism. Just a few hours before the Plaza de Oriente rally, four policemen, guarding banks in different parts of the capital, were shot by terrorists believed to belong to a tiny, Marxist urban-guerrilla group called the Revolutionary Anti-Fascist Patriotic Front (FRAP).

Three policemen died; a fourth remained in critical condition at week's end. At the funeral for the three patrolmen, thousands of angry police booed Premier Arias. "You wanted to open Spain up politically, and this is the price we are paying!" the officers shouted at the weeping Premier. "Resign! If you have any honor left, resign!"

While the Premier will almost certainly retain his post, all hope seems gone for any new liberalizing initiatives in the near future. Every day brings the country closer to that inevitable moment when Franco will no longer be able to rule. In theory, the succession is well established; in 1969 Prince Juan Carlos, now 37, was designated Franco's heir in a restored monarchy. Yet even when he is given his crown, it will be questionable whether he will also acquire Franco's ability to divide and rule the coalition of rightist groups that has run Spain since the Civil War: hard-line Falangists, conservative Catholics, reformist technocrats and the military.

Without a strong government in the post-Franco period, there is the danger of a violent clash of extremists. Leading the extreme right would be the Falange, backed by reactionary youth groups like the Guerrillas of Christ the King. On the extreme left would be fringe groups like the FRAP and the increasingly important Junta Democratica. Although the Junta claims to be a broad-based organization containing leftists and centrists, U.S. experts believe that it is merely a front for the outlawed Spanish Communist Party and is controlled by Party First Secretary Santiago Carrillo, who lives in exile in Paris.

Spanish moderates fear that the Junta has already infiltrated some of the country's most important trade unions and key professional groups. The Basque separatists would probably back the radical left in a clash with the right.

The possibility of violence among the factions terrifies most Spaniards and thus makes it more remote. Although 70% of Spain's population today is under 40, even younger Spaniards who did not go through the three-year Civil War have heard too many tales about it to want the kind of violence that could once again turn family against family as well as jeopardize the economic and social gains of the past 15 years. At the outbreak of the civil war, the middle class accounted for only 18% of the population; today it is about 50%--some 16 million people with a big stake in political stability.

Franco may be able to protect that stake if he quickly takes bolder steps to prepare the political transition and allows some moderate opposition forces to participate in the government.

One course to bring about a smoother transfer of power might be for Franco to step down soon and use his enormous prestige to help a fledgling government get established. More terrorism within Spain and continued ostracism by the rest of Europe may well convince el Caudillo that he is still indispensable and must remain at his post until a possibly bitter end.

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