Embarrassing Fact

(See Cover)

The lights were burning late in El Pardo, the somber palace on the outskirts of Madrid. As he waited in the cold, cavernous halls hung with tapestries of medieval Spain, Generalissimo Francisco Franco might well have wondered if the lights of his destiny were also burning late. It was going on midnight when a motorcycle courier raced into the high-walled palace grounds, roared past the Moorish sentinels, and delivered the text of the Tripartite declaration. "It is hoped," London, Washington and Paris had broadcast, "that leading patriotic and liberal-minded Spaniards may soon find means to bring about a peaceful withdrawal of Franco. . . ."

Was this all? No call to the republican masses? No sanctions, economic or political? No threat of direct intervention? Nothing to follow up the French closing of the border? The Generalissimo and his advisers breathed a long sigh of relief.

In the next days Europe's No. 1 surviving Fascist breathed defiance. At Madrid's War Museum, he proclaimed again "the failure of liberalism [Anglo-American]." He assailed again "the strongest of tyrannies [Russia]." He played on Spanish national pride and long-deferred social hope: "The outside [world] is not important. We are looking to the inside. . . . We are going to make . . . a better social justice, which is the basis of prosperity of the people. . . . Do you think that God would permit barbarism and lack of gallantry in the country of Don Quixote?"

Not on a sorry steed but in a Packard limousine (he no longer uses a German Mercedes-Benz), the most unquixotic of Spaniards drove through his capital. His Sancho Panzas were red-bereted bodyguards armed with Tommy guns. A clamorous crowd was assembled to cheer his progress through the Puerta del Sol. They gave the Falangist salute. They chanted: "Franco! Franco! Franco!" They screamed: "Franco, yes! Russia, no!"

This noisy enthusiasm did not penetrate to the dungeons under the plaza, where some of the Generalissimo's 50,000 political prisoners were rotting.

What Next? On paper, Washington's indictment of Franco as the nonbelligerent lackey of Hitler and Mussolini was damning and determined. The Allied manifesto addressed to "leading" Spaniards was daring, high-principled and humane. But, as practical measures, what did they amount to? Would huffing & puffing blow Franco down? Would the brave words be buttressed by bold diplomacy? If so, would there be repercussions that might not only drive the Generalissimo from power but also upset still further the uneasy balance of Europe?

Wherever the West faced the Russians, its moral position was weakened by the embarrassing fact of Franco. Geographically and historically Fascist Spain was a responsibility of the Atlantic powers. If they could not get rid of the anachronism in Madrid, time might bring an opportunity for renewed Russian intervention, far to the west of the present Russian sphere.

As the leading spokesman for Europe's socialist democrats, Britain's Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin, who has said he detests Fascist Spain, was well aware of the desperately delicate situation. He and non-socialist democrats were struggling against Communism for the political soul of Europe, for the trust of men who would never again trust those who tolerated Franco. The U.S. was more remote from the scene, but as the leading power of the democratic coalition, the U.S. was not remote from the responsibility.

If the objective--Franco's downfall--was clear, the way to achieve it was not. Armed intervention, severance of diplomatic relations, or even a mere shutting off of oil shipments to Spain--any one of these might bring about a change of regime. But unless the democracies' plans were carefully laid, a change of regime under any of these circumstances might also plunge Spain again into the abyss of civil war. The western democracies knew, and Franco knew they knew, that civil war might bring civil chaos and Communism's great opportunity. Franco's confident defiance sprang from misunderstanding of the West's dilemma.

While London and Washington stuck doggedly to a "moderate" policy, Moscow cried out against Anglo-American "inadequacy," called for a "radical solution . . . immediate rupture of diplomatic relations with Franco. . . . As is well known, the Soviet Government . . . does not maintain any relations with Franco Spain." This week Washington and London declined to join Paris in citing Franco before the UNO Security Council as a menace to world peace. But Moscow agreed to go along.

This was Russia's opportunity to try putting the Anglo-Americans across a propaganda barrel--the kind Russia had endured over Iran. This was also Franco's opportunity--as it had been the opportunity of Hitler. For all he was worth, the wily Gallegan dictator played Russia against Britain and the U.S.

Way of Power. Francisco Paulino Hermenegildo Teodulo Franco Bahamonde has never suffered from pallid faith in his own star. "God is with me," he said in public last September, "and those God helps along never fail to win." His path to totalitarian power has been religious and ruthless, stubborn and supple, medieval and modern, simple and complex. For almost three decades he has been a man of violence and inquisitorial intolerance. He hunts wild boars and rojos ("reds," meaning practically all political opponents) with equal intensity. Yet he has seldom failed to say a nightly rosary with his wife Carmen and daughter Carmencita (now 19). His most frequent prayer is: "Lord who entrusted Spain to my hand, do not deny me the grace of handing you back a Spain which is truly Catholic."

Way of Glory. Spain was still a feudal monarchy, its last shred of ancient grandeur dispelled by Yankee ironclads at Santiago and Manila Bay, when Francisco Franco first took notice of his star. By family and caste tradition he should have been a sailor. Because Spain was too poor to afford any more naval officers, he became a soldier. From seaside El Ferrel, in his native Galicia, he went to the Alcazar military school in Toledo. In 1912, at 20, he was a slender, shiny-eyed captain getting his baptism of fire and helping carve a new Spanish empire in Morocco.

For king & country and against the Riffs, he campaigned through twelve years in North Africa--cruel, callous colonial war that almost cost his life (a grave stomach wound)--and gained swift steps up the ladder of promotion. At 23, he was El Commandantin--The Little (5 ft. 3 in.) Major. At 34, he was Spain's youngest general.

For king & country, he was training "gentlemen cadets" at Saragossa Military Academy when King Alfonso XIII, in 1931, bowed to the bloodless verdict of a popular election and hurried into exile, leaving Spain to the republicans. To Franco, parliamentary democracy was as foreign as military force was familiar. When the new government closed his academy as a "hotbed" of reaction, the General publicly lamented the passing of the monarchist flag ("kiss its rich folds . . . a chill of emotion running through your bodies and your eyes beclouded at the thought of the glories it embodies").

Sent to Majorca as Military Governor of the Balearics (in effect, a political banishment), he was recalled in 1934 by the Rightist Government dominated by Catholic Leader Jose Maria Gil Robles. Bloodily he crushed a bloody Leftist revolt in Asturias. When the Left came back in 1936, Franco was again packed off--this time as Commander General of the Canaries. There, in conspiratorial contact that reached to Rome and Berlin, he waited for the coup that would destroy the Republic.

Way of Conspiracy. The No. 1 conspirator against the Republic was General Jose Sanjurjo. As a trusted subordinate (Sanjurjo affectionately called him "Franquito"), Franco was assigned to lead the army of rebellion in Africa and southern Spain. In the hot, fitful days of July 1936, the exile disguised himself by shaving his mustache, donning mufti and spectacles; secretly he flew off to Morocco. There he exulted to his tough Foreign Legionnaires and Moors: "Now we are on our way." Suddenly Sanjurjo died in a plane crash. Less than three months after the Putsch began, Franco became Generalissimo of all Nationalist forces and of the long march across the peninsula.

The Generalissimo put his trust, as ever, in God; but he also turned to the atheist Mussolini and the pagan Hitler. As the civil war which was to be the proving ground of World War II drew to its close in early 1939, Count Galeazzo Ciano noted in his diary that Franco had been promised more Axis troops and arms for "the final blow at Valencia and Madrid. . . . The situation in Catalonia is good. Franco improved it with a very painstaking and drastic housecleaning. Many Italians [presumably of the Loyalist Garibaldi Battalion] also were taken prisoner: anarchist and communist . . . The Duce . . . ordered that they all be shot,, adding, 'Dead men tell no tales.' "

Way of All Flesh. In World War II Franco's star ran a wishful and wary course. Smilingly he shook hands with Hitler at the border of defeated France. Glowingly he wrote: "Dear Fuehrer . . . I stand ready at your side . . . and decidedly at your disposal, united in common historical destiny. . . ." He paid back* the 400 million marks that had helped finance his rise to power. He sheltered U-boats in Spanish harbors, Italian planes in the Balearics, sent a Blue Division to fight the Russians.

But for the final plunge, he pleaded, Spain was too poor and unprepared. Germany must first send more wheat to feed the hungry Spaniards and guns to reduce Gibraltar. When the Axis crashed, he cleared from his desk in El Prado the autographed portraits of Hitler and Mussolini. He orated: "Falangism is not fascism . . . [but] a special mode of life. . . ."

Now that the Nazi and Fascist pillars of Franco's regime have crumbled, what sustains him?

One prop is the army, abetted by five kinds of security police. Traditionally conservative and monarchist, the army has been preened and pampered by the Generalissimo. Seven hundred thousand strong, it is the biggest in continental western Europe. With officers who have impatiently pressed for a monarchical restoration, the Generalissimo has played a cagey game. He, too, is pledged to bring back a king. But by judicious transfers of outstanding monarchists like General Alfredo Kindelan (first to the Canaries, then to house confinement in Madrid) and on his record in keeping the army out of World War II's losing camp, he has thus far persuaded the generals to let him decide the time for a restoration. Meanwhile, he enjoys the old Bourbon palaces, hunts and fishes in the old Bourbon parks. When his wife entertains at tea, a butler in white gloves serves Senora Franco first, then doffs the gloves to pour for the guests.

Spain's totalitarian party, the Falange, of which Franco is Caudillo (leader), is another prop. After seven years, it has a strong influence over Spanish youth and a stranglehold on the nation's totally regimented, venally exploited economy. The Falange's mass base is weak (5% to 10% of the population), but most big landowners and businessmen, who live in dread of a mass uprising, give it their allegiance.

The Church has no love for the Falange, its rival in education and ideology. It still goes along with Franco but would prefer Gil Robles, an anti-Franco exile in Lisbon, or some other conservative, if a change could be achieved without bloodshed. Two weeks ago Enrique Cardinal Pla y Deniel, who, as bishop of Salamanca, had helped Franco mightily during the civil war, explained his present position toward the Spanish regime. "During Primo de Rivera's dictatorship, I proclaimed that the Church is above politics. I repeated it during the Republic. I said it again for the first time in many years in my Pastoral last May." Asked to enlarge on this statement, Pla y Deniel merely shrugged and laughed.

But, at the moment, the Generalissimo's greatest strength lies in the apathy of Spain's people. Overwhelmingly they despise the Generalissimo and his regime. Overwhelmingly they prefer it to another civil war.

Franco's Weakness. The Generalissimo's greatest weakness is the state of his nation. Under his totalitarian order, Spain's old and decadent worlds of wealth and want are spinning ever farther apart. Life in Madrid is a pattern in extremes. The capital has Europe's most elegant and epicurean restaurants; among the best is the one operated by the famed German restaurateur Otto Horcher, who used to serve Nazi bigwigs in Berlin, Vienna and Paris. Store windows on the Gran Via display nylons, furs, silks, satins, perfumes.

Not far off, the unfilled dugouts of the civil war house the jobless, the ragged, the hungry, the impoverished. On the great estates landless peasants toil for four pesetas (36-c-) a day. The black market thrives and bureaucrats and party men take fat cuts.

The Generalissimo has been lavish in his promises to impoverished Spain, niggardly in his achievements. In his way, he seems to understand the importance of modernizing Spain's anachronistic economy. Recently he proclaimed a vague ten-year plan for "national improvements . . . old injustices and abuses will be ended . . . redemption is at hand." To build up a mass base, he is said to be studying the technique of Argentina's Juan Peron.

Franco's Alternatives. On the face of their appeal to "leading" Spaniards, Washington and London seemed to be hoping (and they might secretly be dickering) for an army coup that would force Franco out, pave the way 1) for an orderly return of republican and monarchist exiles into a broadened caretaker government, and 2) for eventual free elections.

In Lisbon Pretender Don Juan, son of Alfonso XIII, still awaited a summons to Madrid. He was in touch with the Caudillo's brother Nicolas, Spain's ambassador to Portugal. But the Caudillo had blown hot & cold on Don Juan. Falangists gibed at his British naval training, called him "the little British sailor in the service of Communism."

In Paris, the exiled Spanish Republican Government still dreamed of returning as the legitimate heir of Spanish sovereignty. Like Paris and Moscow, it wanted more than the Tripartite manifesto. Cried Premier Jose Giral: "The only solution lies in the breaking of relations with Franco, and the rebirth of the government which represents republican law."

Giral's Government was consulting with the Communists, led by Dolores Ibarruri (La Pasionaria) of Civil War fame. It was in contact with the chief Spanish underground, of unassessable political strength, known as the National Alliance of Democratic Forces. But it considered Rightists like Gil Robles as "renegade republicans." It sneered at the monarchists--"a cabal of old women made up almost entirely of political whores and political virgins." Spanish disunity was as tragically great as ever.

Through this constellation of forces Francisco Franco's star was running its course. As to where it would end, a characteristically Spanish story made a characteristically Spanish comment:

On the quay at El Ferrol, where the Caudillo was born, an old man sings to himself: "Francisco, you are done for. Francisco, you are sunk." The police pounce on him. They discover that the culprit is the Caudillo's aged father, who is sure that his son's power & glory are evanescent and will lead him only to ruin in the end.

Unless the democracies found a way to oust Franco without letting the Communists in, the son might prove wiser than the father.

* He also was billed 5.5 billion lire by Mussolini. He never got around to paying this debt to a creditor going out of business.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.