An intriguing exploration of days spent glued to the TV during the 1981 coup attempt in Spain reveals a powerful truth about television and public memory. Julia Otero sent teams into the streets to ask pedestrians how they learned about the unfolding events. The common answer from those interviewed was stark: the coup was learned about in real time on television. The moment framed how people perceived political upheaval and how media coverage shaped their understanding of a sudden national crisis.
All those who participated in the survey insisted on following the story on Televisión Española, the nation’s principal channel at the time, and they did so particularly on the afternoon of the 23rd and again during the Telediario broadcast at 9 p.m. on that same day. The fact that some listeners assumed live reporting would fill the screen helped underline a central tension of that period: viewers expected direct, continuous coverage, even when alarms or official statements suggested there could be delays. When researchers warned that Televisión Española had not shown a single image of the coup and that viewers would need to wait until the 24th to see any footage, many were surprised to learn there would be a hiatus in visual material. This underscored television’s immediate grip on collective perception and the disappointment that can follow after a long wait for confirmation of dramatic events.
It is striking how a television image can remain vivid in memory even decades later while the ability to distinguish whether that image was live or recorded becomes blurred. This phenomenon points to television not merely as a passive conveyor of events, but as an active creator of memory. A notable feature of the 23-F coverage concerns the way cameras were used: many instances involved recording devices rather than live feeds, yet the resulting footage still reached Televisión Española in a timely manner. The channel later stated that the military entered the station approximately an hour after coverage began. This sequence raises a consistent question about media management during a crisis: why did the program not interrupt and present the incoming material at least within the window before the military could take formal control of the station?
In February 2013 a detailed analysis by Louis Alegre for the Huffington Post offered additional context. The study documented claims from some citizens who reported seeing limited footage of the coup on a short, live second channel and later on a UHF channel. Beyond this possibility, which other interpretations have been dismissed, the piece emphasized how unusual Televisión Española’s decision not to broadcast the footage live was. The discussion in Congress surrounding the period reflected similar sentiments. It is noted that prior to the installation of a new presidency, Televisión Española chose to air a children’s program instead, a choice that continues to provoke questions about editorial priorities during moments of political transition. Another lingering question asks who made the call to minimize or delay the public broadcast of material captured at that critical hour and what rationale was offered for that decision. These threads together illustrate the enduring complexity of media governance in a moment of national upheaval and the way institutional choices can shape public memory and historical interpretation.