These days mark the fiftieth anniversary of Franco's death, one of the darkest moments in Spain's recent history because, when you think about it, it's undeniably sad when a dictator dies. Don't misunderstand me: I'm not advocating for the immortality of dictators, but rather the fact that none of them should die as a dictator, or, at the very least, that their death should bring an end to the dictatorship. Because unlike Hitler, Mussolini, or the dictatorships of Portugal or Greece, Franco was never defeated, and for that very reason, we can say that he died undefeated. This circumstance is not merely anecdotal; it has had many implications. The first is that Franco's death never meant the end of the regime. The next day, Spain was still a dictatorship, although this didn't prevent the process toward the democracy we have today. But the end of the dictatorship, which we can date to around 1977 or 1978, didn't imply the disappearance of Francoism either.
The official narrative presented the Transition as a paradigmatic case of fraternal reconciliation, which they tried to sell as a model for the authoritarian regimes of Latin America or Eastern European countries, but nobody bought it. In those countries, the regimes were overthrown, in many cases peacefully, but this was not an obstacle to holding those responsible accountable, making public the archives of political repression, and bringing to trial or marginalizing the main perpetrators of oppression. In Spain, this did not happen. In 1977, the same amnesty law that freed political prisoners was careful not to grant amnesty to the authorities and officials of the Franco regime, and today, half a century later, the Official Secrets Act of 1968 is still in force. But this pact of silence went beyond the mere fact that Francoism was fading away and disappearing. Thanks to this, today most Spaniards know more about World War II than about the Civil War, about which few could name a single important battle or prominent military figure. Over these fifty years, many jokes have been made about Franco, but there has never been any serious discussion about the families and companies that profited from a criminal and corrupt regime. The amnesia of the Transition had worked.
The need to break this silence today should not be a cry for revenge, but rather the acceptance of collective responsibility for the past. A society that is incapable of confronting its ghosts remains an immature and poorly cohesive society, and this immaturity is, curiously, one of the aspects of Francoism that has endured the most: the idea that Spaniards are passionate and easily provoked, and that it's best to hide things from them so they don't get hurt. A rather pessimistic view of the people of this country that was accepted without question by almost everyone during the Transition.
Maintaining this fratricidal vision of Spain is Francoism's latest masterstroke, allowing it to remain dormant like a herpes sore, waiting for another opportunity. The current disrepute of the political class and the collapse of some public services have created the ideal conditions for it to reappear and impose its narrative, taking advantage of the amnesia left by the disastrous pact of silence during the Transition. Like Franco, Francoism has never been defeated, and with the good health it seems to be enjoying lately, it will also continue undefeated for many years to come.
