Post by Hallowed Isolation on Jun 12, 2004 15:42:52 GMT -5
Francisco Franco Bahamonde (1892-1975)
This is the story of a hero; this is the story of a villain. This is the story of a leader; this is the story of a coward. This is the story of vision; this is the story of submission. This is the story of Franco.
Is destiny inevitable? We choose a chosen road; we walk a trodden path. From his first heartbeat to his last, Franco's road was one to be marched to the cadence of a drum. Militarism will always be identified as the driving power in Franco's heart, will always be recognized as Franco's paramount passion. Franco was born on the frigid December day of 1892, but his life began fifteen years later, upon his enrollment in the Toledo Infantry Academy in 1907.
The conception of Franco's affinity was perhaps found in the rigid, distant, cold features of Don Nicolas Franco: Franco's father. Perhaps the life and achievement of Franco was the next step in a natural progression, a progression started and passed down through tradition. But whatever the truth may be, Franco was a soldier born into a battle. Franco would live to see Spain deplete herself with battles, and sustain herself with soldiers.
The military career of Franco was shaped with a breathless acceleration. He tore his way through the ranks, proving himself time and time again with the might of his intellect, of his endurance, and of his will. And as he tore his way through the ranks, he also tore his way through the enemies of Spain, among whom the Moroccan Rebels were prominent. From these conquests Franco returned stronger, wiser, and more competent than ever before. From these conquests he returned as something greater than a man. He returned as a hero.
In the latter 1930s there was much cause for the Spanish patriot’s heart to bleed. The imploding economy, the political discord, and the crumbling government all contributed to an impression of impending collapse. Franco, Chief of the Spanish Army’s General Staff, approached the leadership of the Republican Party, confronting them with the truth of a disintegrating Spain. He appealed them, pleading with them to declare a state of emergency, an action of unforeseeable consequences. The Republicans were appalled. In their anger they excommunicated the heretic, they exiled the traitor.
Franco’s new station, a place of total obscurity, soon became for him a harbor of deep reflection. In the isolation, Franco finally set aside his political neutrality and chose to betray the system he had so vigilantly defended for so long. The once renowned leader of the Spanish Army now lifted the emblem of the swarming rebellion. He led the cause of the Nationalists to the utter desolation of the Republic. A Civil War horrid enough to cost Spain over a million lives would soon prove itself beneficial enough to purchase Franco one thing: control over Spain.
Thus began the long dominion of Franco’s Spain. As soon as Franco attained his precious Spain, she plummeted down into complete chaos and depression. As soon as he gripped her console, she lost control. In this time no other ideal was pursued with more vehemence than stability. Over the decades Franco’s regime weathered storm after storm, horror after horror. As the Second World War devoured the world with havoc, Spain did endure. Franco’s ultimate test wasn’t to prosper Spain, but to sustain her. And no ideal would prevent him from that aim. Democracy was soon traded in exchange for monarchy. Freedoms were soon traded in exchange for tyranny. Morality was soon traded in exchange for necessity. And Spain explored its ominous nadir.
Franco was pragmatic in all things, innovative in none. Perhaps the sheer force of his will slowly and gently pulled Spain from the morass as the years passed. Perhaps it was his consistent and unwavering leadership that sustained Spain. Even as Franco mellowed, even as his policies softened with liberalization, the world continued to hate him. In the very end, what tantalized and haunted Franco more than popularity and great success was greatness. The last great Fascist dictator died in 1975.
Note: What you have just read is my (somewhat fallible) interpretation of Franco's Spain. If you feel compelled, check my facts and research the subject on your own. Opinions are welcome.