Born in the early seventies, during the final years of Francoism, he enters a peculiar space where the figures, events, and heroes of Spain’s Transition to democracy are recognized not through the everyday gaze of memory, but through a frosted lens that blends distant years with a lasting impact. This generation witnesses the evolution of a country torn by conflict and steered toward a fragile peace, and it is hoped that those who carry only a hazy recollection will come to value the people who set aside personal feeling to construct a democratic order that, with all its flaws and virtues, marks the longest stretch of peaceful coexistence in modern Spanish history. Spain’s history has long been defined by revolts, regimes, and proclamations, yet the legacy of the Transition deserves sober reflection. In this frame, the figure of Teodulfo Lagunero emerges as a beacon—he recently passed away at the age of ninety-five, leaving behind memory that invites appreciation and understanding of the Transitional period for those who did not live through it firsthand.
His life became the subject of vivid recollection. The memoirs trace a journey from a young law student in Valladolid, who experienced the hardships of a society at odds with itself, to a committed advocate for freedom in Spain. The narrative follows a path from childhood roots in Valencia amid the turmoil of the Civil War era to a steadfasting pursuit of democratic liberties as a reality. Lagunero’s collaboration with the Communist Party, and especially with Santiago Carrillo, framed his academic career and subsequently supported a flourishing enterprise life. For supporters of the Francoist status quo, years of inertia are now read as part of a broader historical arc, with some attempting to reframe Lagunero’s role as merely marginal rather than pivotal in shaping the country’s democratic destiny.
The reader is invited to accompany Lagunero through a life shaped by the friction between rebellion and reform. The son of a dismissed republican professor, he rose from humble beginnings to become one of the most influential voices in Spain’s public sphere. His legal studies at the University of Valladolid coincided with afternoons spent working as a boatman on the Pisuerga River, a symbolic image of a younger generation balancing study with labor in a society under constraints. This fusion of intellect and practicality fueled a conviction that political systems must reflect the will of the people, not the fear of suppression. When his criminal record due to anti-Franco activities prevented him from practicing law, Lagunero redirected his energy into education, establishing an academy that aimed to empower others through learning. The early work of the academy, including mornings devoted to teaching and afternoons spent supporting his family by cleaning classrooms, painted a portrait of perseverance and sacrifice. The difficult start did not deter him; rather, it amplified his resolve to contribute to Spain’s democratic project. The 1968 Paris May Day events further widened his network, connecting him with Marcos Ana and opening doors to Santiago Carrillo and his circle. This connection helped accelerate the transition, infusing it with new energy and international awareness.
Even as the transition unfolded, its pace was measured and contested. The period was short, yet intensely consequential, demanding a delicate reconciliation among the country’s diverse political families. Lagunero’s memoir depicts not only the idealism of those who sought change but also the fear and resistance that accompanied every progressive step. The narrative emphasizes that a wide segment of society supported democratic advances while factions within the military and other groups sometimes viewed them with suspicion or hostility. Across these tensions, Lagunero’s life stands as an example of integrity and candor—a reminder that the peaceful end of dictatorship was achieved through collective action and sustained civic resolve rather than solitary heroism. He himself repeatedly acknowledged that the ultimate architects of Spain’s peaceful transition were the pro-democracy citizens who refused to abandon the path toward liberty. Each incremental gain was met with protests and even threats, but the persistent push for reform carried the day, illustrating how democracy emerges from persistent, shared effort. Lagunero’s experiences, including the personal threats faced by his daughter and elderly mother in anonymous letters, illustrate the high stakes involved in pursuing political change. Yet the resilience of Lagunero and his contemporaries infused the movement with momentum and a sense of moral purpose. The memoir offers a vivid, almost daily account of those transformative years. It invites readers to reflect on the era’s politics, the individuals who shaped it, and the enduring lesson that the availability of democracy rests on ongoing public engagement and vigilance. The closing pages reinforce a broader invitation: for those who belong to later generations, the Transitional era should be seen not as a distant relic but as a living model for shaping the political landscape, a reminder of the kind of society that is sought and defended through collective action and shared responsibility.