Spain: Experiment with Democracy

Spain has not held a direct parliamentary election since the Civil War engulfed it in 1936. Last week, as one of several liberalizing steps taken recently by Generalissimo Francisco Franco, the country prepared for at least a token return to democratic rule. It opened a national campaign that will end Oct. 10 when Spaniards take the unaccustomed step of going to the polls.

Under the new Constitution, 65 of the 563 seats in Parliament will still be chosen personally by el Caudillo. Two weeks ago, Franco stopped off in Madrid from a summer holiday in Galicia, announced his choices, then left again for some hunting in Andalucia. An other 394 members of Parliament will be picked by Spain's municipal councilmen, trade unions, Falange, and professional and cultural organizations. The big change will come in the selection of the remaining 104 members. They will be popularly elected by Spain's family heads and married women over 21, representing half of Spain's 32 million people. Two representatives will be chosen from each of the country's provinces, plus one from each of four overseas territories.

A Certain Cynicism. In his first experiment with democracy, Franco took enough precautions to guard against creating a noisy opposition in Parliament. To win nomination, a candidate must first be a past or present member of Parliament or be endorsed by five parliamentary members or seven provincial deputies—most of whom, of course, are loyal to Franco. Otherwise, he must get the signatures of 1,000 eligible voters in his province, a step that requires campaign money and at least some rudiments of an organization. Yet the government ruled that each candidate must run on his own without party or associations, and must pay for his campaign out of his own pocket or through private financial connections. Since a two-week campaign with any hope of success would cost at least $50,000, that seems to rule out anyone who is not wealthy. As a clincher, the government requires all candidates to swear "adhesion" to Franco's Falange.

Under the circumstances, Spaniards regard the election with a certain cynicism. Some 300 men and women will run for the 104 seats, but even the candidates themselves seem a bit embarrassed. There have been no parades, speeches or rallies so far—only a few stray posters and spot announcements on government-run television urging viewers to vote. Whether they will or not, no one can tell until election day. By Western standards, the election is certainly limited; yet even a step toward democracy is a welcome curiosity in Franco's Spain.