Moving to Fill a Power Vacuum

oSPAIN

A dual struggle raged in Spain last week. While Generalissimo Francisco Franco fought to stay alive, his government struggled to keep functioning in a power vacuum. At week's end, as the old dictator still clung to life with characteristic tenacity, the government literally gave up waiting for him to die. It resolved a growing crisis of authority by pressuring a reluctant Prince Juan Carlos de Borbon y Borbon, Franco's heir designate, to become his country's temporary Chief of State. Only after Franco's death or a complicated legal process declaring his incompetence would Juan Carlos be named King, Spain's first monarch since the abdication of his grandfather, Alfonso XIII, in 1931.

The seemingly futile struggle to keep el Caudillo alive was waged inside the second-floor bedroom of the turreted El Pardo Palace outside Madrid, where a 24-man team of doctors attended him round the clock. The medical bulletins that streamed from the sickroom told of "cardiac insufficiency," "gastric hemorrhaging," "intestinal paralysis," "blood clotting" and at least five heart attacks over a 13-day period. Yet the 82-year-old Franco, who a week earlier was believed to be only hours away from death, hung on--just as he had hung on to absolute power for nearly four decades.

Healing Powers. Franco frequently became quite lucid, occasionally chatting with his family and even discussing with Premier Carlos Arias Navarro the lineup of military forces that might confront each other in the Spanish Sahara. At one point the Archbishop of Zaragoza, Pedro Cantero Cuadrado, spread across Franco's bed the gold-embroidered cloak that usually adorns the wooden statue of the Virgin Mary in Zaragoza's Basilica of Our Lady of Pilar. As the archbishop described it, the dictator opened his eyes, wept and kissed the cape--which is reputed to have healing powers.

Downstairs at El Pardo, a steady procession of Cabinet ministers, generals, leaders of the Movimiento National (the sole political party allowed), Roman Catholic churchmen and a few Latin American ambassadors arrived to inquire about Franco's health. Among the callers were exiled King Leka of Albania and Nicolas Franco, 37, the dictator's nephew. Young Franco later told TIME Correspondent Gavin Scott that he was hardly surprised by his uncle's durability. His own father, Franco's 85-year-old brother, suffered a similar illness four years ago and had been kept alive by drugs and machines. "Today," Nicolas said, "my father spends two hours each day working in his garden."

While the generalissimo hovered between life and death, government leaders were trying to head off complete political paralysis. Under the Spanish constitution, major decisions can be taken only by the Cabinet and only when the Chief of State presides; moreover, all decree laws must be signed by him to take effect. With Franco so gravely ill, the government was unsure whether it had clear-cut authority to make decisions--even on matters as pressing as the Sahara crisis. Said a government official last week: "We cannot go on without an active leader."

When Franco's demise had seemed imminent a week earlier, the transfer of power appeared to present no real problem. Within eight days of the dictator's death, Juan Carlos would have been named King by a joint declaration of the Cortes (parliament) and the 17-member advisory Council of the Realm. But for Juan Carlos to come to full and permanent power before Franco died would have required either 1) the dictator's resignation, or 2) a decree by the Cabinet, ratified by the Cortes and the National Council, stating that Franco was not competent to rule. Encouraged by his family, el Caudillo made it clear last week that he wanted to die with all his power and titles, and thus would not resign. Arias and his Cabinet, moreover, were worried about insulting the dying man by stripping him of his authority.

Thus the only alternative was a "temporary" transfer of power to Juan Carlos--maintaining the fiction that Franco retained ultimate authority and might even recover from his illness. The trouble with the plan was that Juan Carlos, at least at first, would have none of it. He had served in such a temporary capacity in mid-1974, when Franco was stricken with phlebitis and was expected to die or retire. When Franco returned to office after a mere 45 days of hospitalization and recuperation, he abruptly elbowed the Prince aside. Humiliated, Juan Carlos vowed that if a similar situation ever arose he would accept office only on a permanent basis.

Late last week the Prince bowed to intense pressure from Arias and other top officials. Juan Carlos accepted the designation as Spain's temporary ruler when Arias invoked Article 11 of Spain's Organic Law and declared that Franco was currently unable to function in office "in view of the circumstance of illness." Observed a European diplomat in Madrid: "It seems that the Prince is accepting temporary powers in the knowledge that they are in fact permanent."

Juan Carlos assumed all of Franco's powers, except the positions of head of the Movimiento National and of generalissimo of "the Three Armies"--posts el Caudillo retains for life. The Prince, however, already wields sufficient authority to launch Spain's post-Franco epoch. His first official function, in fact, clearly symbolized that power had been transferred to him; he presided over Friday's Cabinet meeting, which was held around the dining-room table of his Zarzuela Palace rather than in the dining room of Franco's El Pardo.

Not until he becomes King is Juan Carlos expected to start making the pronouncements, policy decisions and changes in top government offices that will indicate how he is likely to respond to demands for reform of his country's political system. Only after Franco's death, explains one government official in Madrid, can there be "a clean end and a clean beginning." Even then, most observers expect Juan Carlos to emphasize some continuity by keeping Arias as Premier. But he could signal a receptiveness to change by gradually shaking up the rest of the Cabinet and bringing in reform-minded ministers. There are a number of prominent center-rightists, for example, who have criticized the Franco regime and would give a distinctly evolutionary-reformist tone to the new Cabinet. Among those who might assume senior posts in the next six months:

MANUEL FRAGA IRIBARNE, 53, Ambassador to Britain, a major architect of Spain's tourist boom in the 1960s and head of a recently formed center-rightist political movement.

JOSE MARIA DE AREILZA, the Count of Motrico, 65, a monarchist, former Ambassador to Washington and Paris and adviser to Don Juan de Borbon y Battenberg, father of Juan Carlos and still a potential factor in a new Spanish political equation.

JOAQUIN RUIZ GIMENEZ, 62, a law professor and a former reformist Minister of Education in the 1950s who now heads the still illegal Christian Democratic Party and, despite his relative conservatism, is respected and trusted by the entire democratic opposition and the Spanish Communist Party (P.C.E.).

No matter what the Prince does in his first months in power, he is likely to be opposed by much of the left, especially the P.C.E. At his exile headquarters in Paris, party Secretary-General Santiago Carrillo last week told TIME that the P.C.E. will accept Juan Carlos only if he is chosen by the Spanish people in "free elections" held under a "provisional government in which all political parties are present." Raul Morodo, a member of the executive committee of the Popular Socialist Party (one of the two leading Socialist groups), agrees that a broad-based provisional government "is the best way to establish a democracy here or at least to institute constitutional change." He further calls for a general amnesty for political prisoners and a popular referendum on the monarchy, "since Juan Carlos has no legitimate claim to leadership."

Of course such a provisional government, presumably including Communists, would be unacceptable to the powerful Spanish right, especially the so-called "bunker"--the hard-line core of Franco's backers. Even if Juan Carlos favored a broad-based provisional government--and there is no hint that he (joes--it is extremely unlikely that he will want or dare to break with the right so soon. Since Communist demands for a provisional government are almost certain to go unfulfilled, the P.C.E. will probably launch a series of "democratic activities": strikes, walkouts, demonstrations. In fact, the Junta Democratica--a leftist group believed to be heavily influenced by the P.C.E.--did not even wait for the young Prince to take office before it began distributing leaflets at universities last week calling for the overthrow of "the Juan Carlos dictatorship."

Actually, Spaniards have been forcibly kept apolitical for so long that there is no telling how they will respond to reforms or revolutionary slogans. Until the political movements surface, either in defiance of the laws now banning them or after the laws are changed, experts can only guess at their size.

Neither the bunker nor the Communists, for instance, are thought to represent more than 10% of the population. But each can mobilize strength far beyond its numbers. The P.C.E., with between 20,000 and 70,000 clandestine members, is Spain's most organized political movement and has deeply infiltrated the unofficial labor movement and key bourgeois professional organizations. The bunker is solidly rooted in the military, the church, the government-controlled official unions and the Movimiento Nacional. It can also call its forces out onto the streets--old Civil War veterans for mass marches and youthful terrorists, such as the Guerrillas of Christ the King, to intimidate the left and reformers.

Life as Usual. Even the military, which ultimately may determine who rules and what policies will be pursued, remains a political mystery. Its oldest officers and the veterans of the Blue Division (the volunteers who fought alongside the Nazis in World War II) back the bunker. Other key officers like former army Chief of Staff Manuel Diez Alegria openly advocate gradual, democratic reforms leading to a politically pluralistic Spain. Several hundred radicalized young officers who call themselves the Democratic Military Union have circulated an ideario (statement of ideas) that demands "democratic freedoms, reforms leading to an equitable distribution of wealth and the convening of a democratically elected Constituent Assembly to draft a constitution for Spain."

Once all these political forces are unleashed, Spain could face a prolonged period of turmoil. Yet during the weeks of Franco's illness most Spaniards seemed determined to go on with business as usual--except for an unusual interest in radio bulletins and newspaper headlines. Last week the bullrings and soccer stadiums were packed, as were the tapas bars of old Madrid. Late-hour diners filled restaurants, feasting on steaming plates of garlic chicken and stuffed squid swimming in its own black ink. Long queues formed outside cinemas featuring The Towering Inferno, and a Beethoven concert series played to sellout houses. Traffic blocked the capital's streets and tourists swarmed through hotel lobbies. "The only people who are nervous are those across the Pyrenees, those who are abroad," said a government official in Madrid. "We aren't nervous." Not yet, anyway.

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