In Times of Coronavirus, terms such as Fascism’, ‘Socialism’, and ‘Totalitarianism’, are being hurled from one end of the political spectrum to the other and back again in the same way as lexical mud balls. Yet, most of the people who use these words have never directly experienced what they represent and have little idea of what they are. I have a somewhat better idea of their meaning because my first five years in Spain coincided with the final five years of the last Fascist dictatorship in Europe.
As many of you know, General Francisco Franco was leader of the Nationalist forces during the Spanish Civil War. After three years of bloody massacre (on both sides), the war at last came to an end. After overthrowing the Second Republic, Franco then proceeded to rule over Spain for almost 35 years (1939-1975) with more power than any Spanish leader before or since.
During World War II, Spain supported Germany, but officially remained neutral, largely because its resources were exhausted. Otherwise, Franco would have doubtlessly entered the war whole hog. In 1940, Franco and Hitler had their one and only face-to-face encounter, lasting seven hours. Hitler wanted Spain to join the war, but Franco’s demands were so extortionate that Hitler refused them. Hitler later stated that he would rather suffer a toothache than talk to General Franco again.
By 1970, when I arrived in Spain, the Civil War was long over but its effects still lingered. The population was divided into two groups: those who loved Franco and those who hated him. Spaniards knew that nothing would change as long as Franco was alive, and so they wondered what would happen when he died. Half the country hoped he would live forever whereas the other half spent their spare time sticking pins into his wax effigy.
Although most of my in-laws had fought on the Nationalist side, there were some who had been with the Republicans. As in the case of all Civil Wars, both sides were guilty of excesses. Apparently, when the enemies are your neighbors, the desire to annihilate them is even more intense.
My husband’s grandfather was imprisoned for almost three years in the hold of a ship, where each day, the Republican forces would randomly choose three or four prisoners to execute. Miraculously, he survived, though on his release, he weighed 90 pounds. Another of my in-laws fought on the Republican side. He was sent to a concentration camp, where he had to work in a quarry and almost starved to death. When he was finally allowed to return home after the war, he was unable to work. His wife, who was a schoolteacher, supported the family.
My husband’s uncle, who was a doctor, witnessed Republican soldiers and prisoners left to die in the hospital. There was little food for anyone, and they were at the bottom of the food chain. Life was not easy. In fact, the 1940s were known as “los años del hambre” [the years of hunger]. An estimated 200,000 people died of starvation.
In 1970, however, Franco at 77 was only a watered-down version of his dictatorial self. However, his totalitarian regime was still very much in place. I first realized this when I innocently asked a taxi driver what he thought of the government. I still remember the look of terror on his face. I learned that no one ever discussed politics in public or dared to voice an opinion about the government. Freedom of speech did not exist, and the secret police were ubiquitous.
Of course, there was a resistance movement. At the time, the University of Madrid was a hotbed of subversive activity. One morning, I was in class, tranquilly assimilating a boring lecture on medieval Spanish history (the university was still recovering from the exodus of good professors at the end of the civil war). A student suddenly burst in, and announced that the police had entered the building. He told us to run as fast as we could. (The teacher was the first to exit.)
I asked a classmate if this was really necessary since we hadn’t done anything. He said that no one wanted to get arrested. People who were rounded up and taken to the police station sometimes did not return.
As we ran out the door, I saw policemen with batons hitting students, who were bleeding in the hallway. There had been an anti-government demonstration outside the law school. Since discretion is the better part of valor, I decided to return to my residence hall. On the way back, a policeman stopped me but I began to talk to him in English. Speaking another language was the ultimate get-out-of-jail-free card.
In those days, democracy was a chimera. The only elections were held at the municipal level, and the outcome was never a surprise. Those of my (non-Republican) in-laws who were allowed to vote never bothered because the winners had always been decided ahead of time. At the national level, Franco’s government was not elected but rather composed of the people that he appointed. They were chosen because they had promised to do what he wanted them to. It was as simple as that.
Everything was strictly controlled, and there was a great deal of censorship. The censors were members of the Catholic Church (the only legal religion), who regarded cinema as the art of the Devil. They targeted ‘sexual immorality’ and subversive political ideas, such as Socialism. Of course, the film, “For Whom the Bell Tolls”, was banned. In the Spanish version of “Casablanca”, Rick had not fought in the Spanish Civil War, but rather had served as a mercenary in Ethiopia. Also cut was a scene from “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance”, in which James Steward explains what democracy is to a group of schoolchildren.
Nevertheless, censorship sometimes backfired. In “Mogambo”, in order to hide the fact that Grace Kelly was committing adultery, the dialogue was changed so that her husband was her brother. However, a later scene showed them sleeping together in the same tent. This was worse since adultery was replaced by incest.
At that time, Franco considered Spain to be “the spiritual reserve of the Western World” and ordained what everyone in the country should think and believe. Most of the progressive legal initiatives passed by the Second Republic had been revoked and replaced by repressive measures that reflected Franco’s devotion to militarism, hypermasculinity, and the traditional role of women in society. There was no longer anything that even remotely resembled equal opportunity.
After a minimal education, a woman was expected to reside with her family until marriage. After her wedding, she then harmoniously co-existed with her husband for the rest of their natural lives (there was no divorce). During Franco’s regime, very little domestic violence was reported, mostly because a husband had the right to “discipline” his wife.
A man was expected to marry. (Homosexuality was a crime.) Of course, it was preferable for him to choose a Spanish wife. Nevertheless, if he was so headstrong as to insist on marrying a foreigner, then his wife automatically acquired Spanish nationality on the day of her wedding (foreign males with Spanish spouses were not accorded this privilege).
Women were expected to produce as many children as God saw fit to bless them with. All birth control devices were illegal and could only be obtained on the black market. Pharmacists could only sell condoms, one at a time, with a doctor’s prescription.
Each year there was a Natality Prize, which was given to the woman with the most living children. I had a classmate who was called Ciriaco. When I asked him why he had such a weird name, he told me that he was the 24th sibling of 26, and by the time that he was born, his mother had run out of names.
Women had less access to education. (Both Mrs. Neanderthal and Mrs. Sitting Bull only studied until the sixth grade.) This was all triggered by Franco’s firm belief that biologically, women did not have the same intellectual capacity as men. A lot of people (including women) actually harbored this belief. Precisely for that reason, in the 1970s, only 36% of all university students were females, and many of these women viewed their studies purely as a means to catch a husband.
In my residence hall, about 40% of the girls would go to class in the morning, and then spend the afternoon embroidering tablecloths and/or crocheting bedspreads for their hope chest. Then, in the evening, they would go out with their friends to see if they could meet someone who qualified as good husband material. Once they found a fiancé, it was no longer necessary to continue studying. However, the struggle was still not over since they could not surrender their virginity to him until their wedding night. If they gave in to temptation beforehand, their fiancé would often break off the engagement because they were no longer ‘pure’.
Oddly enough, for certain people, this was a comfortable world because roles were clearly defined, and no one was obliged to think very hard. Everything was very black and white. If a woman was out on the street after 22:00, unaccompanied by a man, and she suffered physical aggression, she got what she deserved for her risky (and risqué) behavior. If people were arrested for anti-government remarks and propaganda, and got tortured and imprisoned, they also got what they deserved because they should have known better.
The most important thing was law and order. Protestors were severely punished because the government was always right, and everyone was aware of the penalty for breaking the rules. Franco maintained that he was the only one capable of keeping the country in line, and most people believed him. It was not until he died that people finally realized that none of this was true.
