Pressing Toward Freedom

Some 500 parliamentarians of the Spanish Cortes leaned back against their blue-grey benches as Information and Tourism Minister Manuel Fraga Iribarne declared that the legislation before them bridged "two ideological extremes-an absolute and unlimited freedom of the press and total state control." Then, with three dissenting votes, the long-debated, long-awaited Press Law was enacted. The occasion hardly did justice to the passions that its drafting aroused and the curiosity with which Spanish journalists anticipated its application. Five years in the making, the new law is the Franco regime's first broad approach since 1938 to the problems of press freedom.

Under the new law, publications will no longer have to get clearance (in

Madrid, censors have been reading entire newspapers-even all the ads) before presses roll. Instead, ten copies of each newspaper and magazine must be deposited with the Information Ministry one half-hour before it goes on sale. Though the ministry can still seize the total press run, it must take the case to the courts promptly.

No Fifth Rankers. For Franco Spain, that is quite a step forward. "The fact that we have an independent judiciary ensures fairness," says the publisher of the weekly Blanco y Negro, Guillermo Luca de Tena. "It's a great thing not to need prior approval from some fifth-rank official." Though the law contains more generalized restrictions than most Spanish journalists would like (such as a call for obedience "to the principles of the National Movement"), "the right of freedom of expression of ideas" is clearly stated in Article One. "When you talk about freedom of the press, the essential point is that newspapers have the right to criticize the government," asserts Pueblo Editor Emilio Romero. "That right we will now have. The Press Law will have the effect of stimulating further liberalization in our society." Editors are less happy about the law's provisions that all journalists be graduates of journalism school: many of the best now working are not.

Still another augury of change in Spain came in Barcelona. Fortnight ago, some 350 students and distinguished intellectuals staged a sit-in at a Capuchin monastery to set up a "Free Student Union" in opposition to the government-controlled University Students' Syndicate. Police surrounded the monastery, shut off the electricity, food supplies and telephone, then waited exactly 45 hours before breaking in to disperse the intellectuals' sit-in.

Police Intrusion. For the first time in memory the government communique issued afterward made no charge of subversive or left-wing influence. The reason: deference to the rapidly growing opposition from right-wing and Catholic circles to restrictive government measures. The reaction of Barcelona's clergy to this first police violation of ecclesiastical property in the postwar era was prompt and stinging. Parish priests were instructed to rail against the police intrusion and denial of the right of assembly in their Sunday sermons last week. One, following the call to the traditional prayer "for the health of the Chief of State," also pointedly asked for prayers for "our companions, the students, who are passing through such difficult hours of stress."

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