In public discourse, Spaniards have often reproached their former king for actions that would look even more conspicuous when done in secrecy. Traveling by private aircraft, conducting business behind the nation’s back, acting as a broker for funds, and stashing money in trusted friends’ accounts are patterns that raise eyebrows and fuel suspicion about the transparency of royal conduct.
Paradoxically, this is what drives the former monarch to seek residence abroad, in a place where, despite luxury, he finds a sense of home that eludes him back home. There, at least, anonymity offers a cushion that seems impossible to secure in the homeland, where a government once lauded as exemplary now faces a populace that feels both disappointed and wary of its leaders’ actions.
Exemplary governance, the argument goes, has long been the enduring legacy of an institution with hereditary succession, such as a monarchy. It represents a state that is not subject to the same electoral pressures as others, and that privilege comes with responsibilities: to set the moral tone and to appear, at all times, as a standard for society. Some would argue that this expectation extends to the royal family itself, a concept that can feel out of place in a deeply democratic landscape.
Then the question arises: why preserve a monarchy in the twenty-first century? The reasoning offered often rests on two pillars. First, it provides stability to the head of state, ensuring continuity in representation and a measured balance of power. Second, it serves to distance the political class from the highest spheres of state leadership, keeping this role in the hands of a nonpartisan, expert figure who can act in the nation’s long-term interest. Could Spain today appoint leaders from the ranks of former prime ministers like Zapatero or Aznar, or even Felipe González, to the presidency? Some observers say they would prefer a continuity embodied by a current king—Don Felipe—over that alternative.
Yet the debate continues: a real institution should be able to evolve, but its accountability cannot be sacrificed to an aura of inviolability. History warns against a drift toward a Campecano-like syndrome—where power becomes insulated from ordinary accountability. The solution, many argue, should come through constitutional reform that remains firmly within the public’s assent and the rule of law.
And then the topic of Campecano returns to the foreground: upon returning to Spain, the former monarch is said to travel on a private plane, a conveyance more akin to elite circles than to everyday travel. The amount, reportedly substantial, is covered by unknown parties, blurring lines of responsibility and fueling public scrutiny. Why not choose standard commercial travel to Madrid and then take a domestic flight to Vigo with a major carrier? The public conversation centers on whether such choices align with the national expectation of normalcy, and whether the monarchy’s prestige can resist the questions raised by these travel arrangements.
The core accusation, for many, is not simply about travel costs but about the perception of a system that remains disconnected from the everyday lives of citizens. There is a belief that public sentiment shifts when rulers appear to enjoy privileges beyond the reach of ordinary families, especially when those privileges are tied to a history of wealth accumulated abroad and in private estates. The question, then, becomes whether these habits can coexist with a state that seeks to demonstrate accountability and empathy toward its people.
In the end, a transparent reckoning is essential. The distinction between personal legacy and public duty must be clear, particularly in a nation that has striven to move from dictatorship toward a robust system of liberties and democratic norms. A fair assessment recognizes the contributions of leaders who guided the nation during pivotal transitions, while also holding them to the same standards of accountability applied to any citizen. If the republic of public opinion can accept mistakes as part of national growth, then the path toward renewed trust can be forged, even when memories of past decisions linger in the collective memory.
Ultimately, as the conversation continues across Spain, the question remains whether the monarchy will adapt in ways that reflect contemporary democratic values. The individuals who shaped the country’s trajectory—whether viewed as champions of liberty or as holders of colonial-era prerogatives—will be remembered in proportion to the clarity and integrity with which the institution embraces change. The hope is that the nation’s leadership can reconcile history with the present, honoring the essence of civic responsibility while acknowledging imperfections that come with any long-standing tradition. This balance, some feel, is essential for a healthy future that respects both heritage and accountability. [Source attribution requested for context on this discussion].