Story of a failure
On November 22, 1975, Juan Carlos was sworn in as King of Spain before the Francoist Cortes. He affirmed that Franco's regime, which had left half a million dead, had "the political legitimacy that arose on July 18, 1936, amidst so many sacrifices, so much suffering, sad but necessary, so that the Nation could once again chart its own course." Juan Carlos spoke of Franco as an "exceptional man" and announced that he would not hesitate to do whatever was necessary to defend the principles of the Movement to which he had just sworn. Giles Tremlett explains this excellently in his insightful biography of Franco.
Juan Carlos was 37 years old and did three fundamental things: appoint Adolfo Suárez as Prime Minister in 1976, ratify the 1978 Constitution, and refuse to support the coup plotters of February 23, 1981.
That the dictatorship would die with Franco was not a given. Spanish society was torn between the yearning for change and the terror of the far right and ETA. There was fear, terror, and a very fresh memory of the war, the repression, the silence, and the dead and disappeared. The regime's powerful vestiges of power, resisting any relinquishment of their privileges, were also still very much alive. While the Francoist Cortes committed political suicide and the army was modernized by Narcís Serra, the reform of the judicial system and, to some extent, the state administration remained pending.
The king became constitutionally and politically shielded. He became infallible. The monarchy acted as a stabilizing force in a country traditionally marked by internal divisions, but without any accountability. However, from the 2000s onward, its image gradually deteriorated, primarily because the complicit silence of the press began to crumble. The emergence of financial scandals, revelations about the monarch's private life, and the institutional crisis stemming from corruption eroded the prestige it had built during the Transition. A power with little oversight and institutional silence ultimately proved fertile ground for corruption. The abdication in 2014 and the king's subsequent exile to Abu Dhabi in 2020 brought this cycle to a close.
This was not the first time a Spanish monarch had left the country. Isabella II had already expelled her in 1868 following the Glorious Revolution, which denounced the climate of institutional corruption, electoral manipulation, and favoritism that characterized her reign. Then it was Alfonso XIII who left in 1931 due to the general discrediting of the monarchy within a political system—the Restoration—marked by structural corruption, electoral fraud, and political bossism, which progressively eroded the regime's legitimacy.
Empty words
This time it was Alfredo Pérez Rubalcaba's PSOE and Rajoy's PP who saved the monarchy by replacing Juan Carlos. The current heir and king has attempted to modernize the institution through his photogenic eldest daughter, who, before receiving a university education, served in all three branches of the armed forces. His own contribution to the country's governance has been more than discreet, and while his father acted in favor of democracy in 1981, Felipe VI was yet another force of reaction after the October 1st referendum. His words of concord and unity these days are worn thin by an intervention far removed from that of a statesman and more befitting only the head of the armed forces when he has had the opportunity to demonstrate democratic zeal. When the monarch speaks out against the tension, he lacks credibility with many citizens of Spain, not just those in the capital, Madrid. Felipe VI has found his father to be the most corrosive influence, which is why he has not invited him to the public events commemorating the restoration of the monarchy.
When actions don't match words, it's worse to give lessons. It's been fifty years since the dictator died and Spain became a parliamentary democracy, but the political culture has changed less than the economy or society. Just this week, the Financial Times The article spoke of an economy growing above the European average but a political system mired in persistent deadlock. According to the newspaper, the economic dynamism—driven by tourism, immigration, and European funds—contrasts sharply with a deteriorating political climate marked by constant confrontation. The article emphasizes that "toxic domestic politics continues to create obstacles," a toxicity that hinders both structural reforms and budget approvals. The lack of a culture of compromise is so extreme that, as one interviewee put it, "they are very comfortable being enemies; when I have an enemy, I don't need arguments," a stark summary of the current political logic. In this environment, "political insults often overshadow ideas," which, according to the article, contributes to "a worrying lack of debate on public policy." The result is a country where the economy is advancing strongly, but politics seems paralyzed, casting doubt on the long-term sustainability of the Spanish growth model.
Institutional celebrations have little credibility when, in practice, the monarchy has not been a unifying factor either.