6. Gender, class and the SF mandosAlthough Sección Femenina (SF) judged itself on its output of work and its penetration into Spanish society, its legacy may come to be gauged more in terms of the organization’s impact on the lives of its staff members. As previously stated, its legislative successes in the 1950s were slight and, while its wartime relief effort was impressive, it was not the only contributor. But for its members and particularly the elites (mandos), SF gave opportunities for a way of life that was rare in the Franco regime before the 1960s, when the development of mass tourism heralded social and economic changes for Spanish women. Prior to that, for the majority of women, the goal of marriage, children and domesticity remained uncontested and indeed supported by Francoist legislation which through the Labour Charter of 1938 had sought to ‘liberate the married woman from the workshop and the factory’. [1] The activities of the mandos, on the other hand, allowed certain freedoms while remaining publicly acceptable.
The lifestyle of mandos characterized the paradox of SF as an organization that contained genuinely modernizing elements within an ideology that sought to turn the clock back for women. As discussed in Chapter 3, this was in part because the political and religious views of SF mandos led them to present and express themselves in ways different from women in other non-Falangist organizations. But the main contradiction lay in the fact that the Francoist state, in common with Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany, had entrusted implementation of its gender policies to women themselves. As in the German Frauenschaft and the Italian Fasci Femminile, it was SF’s predominantly upper- and middle-class women who were mobilized by the state to impose its reforms. The mandos of SF, therefore, had a powerful leadership role which was in direct contrast to the message of female subordination and submission that they preached. Domesticity and wifely virtues were to be taught by women who were usually unmarried, often working away from home and always under the direction of SF, not their families. The only way this was possible was for SF propaganda to present mandos as alternative versions of wives, mothers and daughters: they combined specialist knowledge of ‘women’s concerns’ with demonstrable self-sacrifice with which all women could empathize. That was the rhetoric but the reality was frequently different, especially after 1945, when SF programmes became more complex and diverse. The gulf between the married woman at home and the mando widened as elites became specialists in their own right and were often highly mobile. Typically, they operated in many locations and frequently changed specialisms in the course of their career. This chapter is concerned with the self-perceptions of mandos and the ambiguity of their role both in the early years, when SF was very much guided and influenced by men and later, when it relied far less on male ‘experts’. It will assess how influence and power were exercised in mandos’ lives and gauge the degree to which SF postings and lifestyle up to 1959 paved the way for the changing role of women in the later years of the regime.
Related to the self-perception of mandos was the question of social class within SF. Roger Griffin’s description of fascist ultranationalism as ‘populist in intent and rhetoric, yet elitist in practice’ applies equally well to the organization and workings of the staff corps of SF. [2] Given that the earliest members were, without exception, from the wealthy and upper classes, it is not surprising that SF’s norms borrowed from that tradition. [3] Its principles of home management, etiquette and table manners derived from those of such families as the Primo de Rivera’s, which was wealthy, valued domestic efficiency and prudence and was concerned for external appearances. Similarly, its subsequent patronage of the arts probably owed as much to remembered cultural norms as to adherence to Falangism. [4] But the other side of the coin was SF’s identification with the populism of the Falange, based on the belief that the movement transcended social class and that its message spoke most clearly to the dispossessed. Alongside its bourgeois values, therefore, was an attempt at inclusiveness, expressed mostly symbolically. The wearing of uniform, the mode of address ‘camarada’ (comrade) and thrift practised by all as an identification with the poorest in society reinforced the point. SF, at least in its early days, had only upper-class women in its staff ranks, but claimed to understand the problems of the poorest. This chapter will examine how the reality of SF career structure matched this rhetoric and whether the organization’s claim that it promoted the cause of all women was a just one.
The first women of SF were such a small group that their stated intent of ‘preaching, educating and showing by example’ was not possible until the membership base had increased. [5] By 1937, Pilar was exhorting her early mandos to reject the old class bias when choosing their deputies and assistants:
When you appoint your local leaders … consider only their personal circumstances and pay no attention to their names or positions…. Don’t allow yourself to be influenced by their family background, or personal friendship or dislike. Above all, don’t fall into the old, unjust system of ‘recommendations’, which the Falange is pledged to abolish. [6]
But reality did not match the rhetoric. The quickest way to spread the membership base from Madrid was to recruit women from similar backgrounds in the provinces. Following a recruitment visit by Pilar and her deputy in 1935, women were enlisted who were already connected in some way to the Falangist cause. Commonly, this was because their father or brother was a member or, in the case of women undergraduates, because they were in contact with Falangist activists in the universities. Angela Ridruejo, the sister of the Falangist propagandist and a friend of José Antonio, was persuaded to establish and run the SF provincial office in Segovia. In Valladolid, the appointment of Rosario Pereda as provincial leader of SF was instigated by the founder of the JONS, Onésimo Redondo. [7] Even after the outbreak of the Civil War, SF staff appointments continued to be made from the same social class, with women such as María Moscardó and Josefina Arraiza Goñi becoming provincial leaders. [8] This extended to lesser-ranking posts and was particularly noticeable in nursing, where it continued after the war and operated as a selection mechanism for the Blue Division, where there was real competition to be accepted. [9]
The war years began to change the social base of the staff corps as existing provincial leaders had jurisdiction over women offering to help SF as part of the Nationalist effort. As well as channelling the efforts of true volunteers, the organization also controlled the State social service programme. From both sources came new members, women who wanted more involvement and whose social and cultural backgrounds were varied. To these, at the end of the war, were added women for whom membership of SF was a security measure to escape a doubtful past. By this time, the first training schools were in operation, including the Málaga school for mandos, which set out norms and standards that transcended class boundaries ‘for all SF mandos, so that they may have unity of style and unity of thought’. [10] The concept of leadership as a higher calling was translated into a programme of political and domestic teaching, conceived by Pilar’s elites and now regarded as the mechanism for transforming recruits of any class into staff members.
Pilar assured her members that SF was a meritocracy:
For the National-syndicalist State there are just two kinds of citizen: those who work and who are worthy of our full consideration, and those who are lazy and who will never be granted any privilege…. The camaradas with the spirit of National-syndicalism … who are clever and want to be useful, who are morally above reproach, they will be the ones given positions of responsibility in our organization. You know that among us, nobody gets on because of who their parents were: it is individual effort that counts. [11]
But in reality, it was far more likely to be women from the higher social classes who continued to occupy the staff positions. To a degree, the candidates were self-selecting -- they had to be of a certain educational standard and be sufficiently secure financially to work either for nothing or for the pocket money paid by SF. One former member believes that she may have gained her first staff posting on the strength of being a graduate. [12] Another past member is of the opinion that elitism played a part in staff appointments. She realised that her unsuccessful applications for posts were the consequence of her modest social background. Despite the fact that her father had been a Falangist and she a youth member and then a primary teacher, she was not accepted as a mando for many years. [13]
Within the hierarchies themselves, there were subtleties of rank, despite the proclaimed equality of the twin structure. [14] The founding elite members had had the task of organizing the territorial structure and their first recruits in the provinces did the same. This original (‘political’) hierarchy continued to be the managerial arm of SF and each provincial leader (delegada provincial) and her deputy (secretaria provincial) were in this sense the direct representatives of Pilar. The fifty-one provincial leaders and deputies worked with considerable autonomy during the year, managing their own office and responsible for the equivalent operation at local level in each village and urban district. At each SF national conference, however, they were a block presence noted for their sharp tongues and political awareness. Falangist guest speakers would be heckled if they could not answer questions to their satisfaction. From 1952, their reports on the work of the province became more central to the structure of the conferences, as less time was devoted to hearing male speakers. Increasingly, they were the activists of SF, in close contact during the year with their subordinates in the villages and hence in a strong position to know how programmes were really faring. Even more strikingly, as the only women in the male world of political and civic influence, their daily work involved mayors, priests, the Civil Governor and Falangists.
The political hierarchy also operated at local level but with differences. The local leader (delegada local) was less concerned with the administration and dogma of SF programmes than with how to make them work. The local office held files and records and was the point of contact for village members of SF. But the local leader was also likely to spend considerable time with unaffiliated women, promoting the courses and services provided by SF staff in the second (specialist) hierarchy, the instructors and health workers. In villages, the two hierarchies worked as a team and the SF local premises were typically both the membership office and its teaching base. [15]
Despite the remoteness of many of the villages, local leaders were connected with the political and ideological core of SF through the hierarchy of the provincial office. The same was not necessarily true of the local service staff. The work of instructors and welfare workers had little in common with that of their desk-bound superiors in the provincial offices of each SF specialism. It was not even necessary for many local service staff to be members of SF, since all but the posts of youth instructor and teacher of political education were open to any woman qualified. Arguably, they had the hardest jobs and yet, in SF terms, they were on the lowest rung of the organization.
But at the apex of the service hierarchy, mandos needed the full range of managerial skills. Whereas provincial leaders were responsible only to Pilar, the service hierarchy had a further layer of bureaucracy. The national service staff (regidoras centrales) each had her office alongside that of Pilar in the Madrid premises at Almagro [36]. Together with Pilar, they comprised what SF called La Nacional (national office), a term signifying not just the premises but the rank and solidarity of the team working there. The shared understanding of what this meant had been determined at the same time and for the same reasons as the political hierarchy and the earliest regidoras centrales were the personal friends and social circle of Pilar. [16] In this sense, it was these women, more than the scattered provincial leaders, who formed the true elite group around Pilar. Working in La Nacional, they were nearer her both physically and (in SF terms) hierarchically than the women of the political hierarchy.
In terms of social class, the baseline began to change as unaffiliated young professionals joined the service hierarchy and worked their way up the ranks. This was most marked in SF’s health programmes, where the specialism of health visitor (divulgadora) was created in 1940. Initially, this work was carried out entirely in village communities by local girls who had volunteered for the six-week course. They were typically the daughters of middle- and lower-middle-class families, such as those of the village doctor or school-master. The SF post gave status and authority without uprooting girls from their families. Similar opportunities existed with the posts of rural instructors (instructoras rurales), where women with no more than basic education could train for a career.
The same principle held good for better-educated women who combined a career in teaching with work for SF. This included primary-trained teachers and graduates, all of whom would have been exposed to SF teachings and could elect to teach in SF training establishments either full or part time. For this group, certainly up to the mid-1950s, service with SF was less a new opportunity than an employment outlet for existing women graduates and education professionals. [17]
The impact of promotions coming from a widened social base was seen from the mid-1950s. By this time in the service hierarchy, women were working at provincial level who had been promoted from local posts on their merits and by dint of attendance at higher-ranking courses. From a modest educational base, they had qualified to operate in a wider sphere. From here, it was theoretically possible to progress to a place in the national office. This was probably the exception rather than the rule, but the increasingly mixed social provenance of SF teachers caused upsets in some convent schools. Private primary and secondary schools, described by Frances Lannon as ‘the most favoured institutions of the Catholic revival’ and bastions of class difference, were now forced to accept SF teaching staff whose social background was more modest than that of their fee-paying pupils. As one mother superior said dismissively, ‘the SF is very populist’. [18]
In La Nacional, however, status and rank translated into a flexible and developmental professional role. The first team of regidoras centrales encapsulated the paradox of the SF elites: they were preaching the cause of social justice from their own base of privilege and in the context of the Franco regime. But additionally, they were responsible for planning the detail of specialist educational and health programmes and then directing the professionals operating them. Most were graduates and all had passed through the SF training course for mandos but few were specialists. Indeed, the common pattern was for these mandos to move between specialisms, underlining the importance of their political commitment and, by implication, reducing the status of the trained professionals under them.
The career route in SF was not rigidly set as belonging to one or the other hierarchy. Mandos often moved between the two, with the post of provincial leader a common stepping-stone to a posting in the national office. In observing career patterns of national staff, their apparent versatility in heading diverse specialisms is striking. [19] Their changing roles and readiness to move locations distinguished them from colleagues lower down the ranks who remained in one sphere of work and, often, one geographical area. In this latter category were many of the provincial leaders. Having achieved a position of influence, these women frequently stayed in the same post for twenty years or more. Their immobility doubtless contributed to the public perception of mandos as pillars of authority in local communities rather than as leaders of the ‘Falangist Revolution’.
But while most mandos continued to come from privileged backgrounds, SF emphasized only the unifying, populist thrust of their training, designed to persuade women to embrace service as an alternative way of life. The idea that service could be an end in itself took shape with the 1942 opening of La Mota, the academy that qualified women to apply for posts at provincial and national level in both hierarchies. The national standards for leadership it set were an indication of how much the organization had changed since 1934. From its original team of volunteer elites, close to Pilar and all from the higher classes, staff would henceforth have to pass through La Mota. Regardless of political pedigree, wealth and connections, candidates had to prove individual suitability.
At one level, the qualification bar of La Mota was a public affirmation of Falangist populism, rewarding and nurturing talent. At another, it reflected concerns that opportunism might dilute SF’s dynamism, continuing Pilar’s determination that SF should not be used to escape from a doubtful past. But in terms of the social class of higher mandos, the existence of La Mota did little to change the status quo. The issue was not the training mechanism but the absence of salary.
The financial status of mandos’ posts encapsulated the contradiction between the rhetoric of Falangist populism and the bourgeois values underpinning it. The fact that it was almost voluntary service distanced it from connotations of paid female employment. Women working with SF were not the destroyers of the family unit nor the strident feminists of the Second Republic. In 1939, there were just forty-nine paid staff of SF. [20] Although this soon increased to include provincial leaders, salary levels remained so low that mandos in both hierarchies needed independent means, a supportive family or a second job to make ends meet. In the service hierarchy, provincial and national mandos were the only ones paid anything from SF’s budget. The local staff worked either on a voluntary basis or were paid from other sources. [21] But however they were funded, mandos received very little. In 1956, for example, the salary of a provincial specialist leader (300 pesetas monthly) compared poorly with that of a maid in Madrid (350 pesetas plus keep). [22] The requirement that mandos should be below the age of thirty-five for active service (militancia) effectively barred poorer women who had become financially independent at a later date. [23]
Salary levels were to an extent dictated by the overall poor finances of the Falange, but according to one past member, Pilar was never keen in any case for mandos to work outside SF. [24] This stance aligned her with bourgeois opinion which equated paid work with need and preferred to see middle-class women in voluntary activities for Church and country. In this context, the state of the Falange’s finances enabled a construct of mandos’ jobs as both ‘real’ employment and yet unthreatening to the status quo.
Low salaries denoted a general acceptance of work as ‘sacrificial’ and were especially significant for the higher mandos. Their posts were potentially the most controversial, being both openly political and carrying most authority. And despite their titles as specialists in social service, culture and aspects of education, mandos were a long way from working in the caring, supportive roles which SF propaganda deemed so suitable for women. While the lower mandos carried out their teaching and nursing duties, those at higher levels were engaged in managerial and administrative tasks that were high-profile and frequently brought them into conflict with men.
The national-level salaries were paid less for specialist knowledge than for general managerial ability. The departments were wide-ranging and service mandos at national level were not limited by their prior qualifications to working in a specified area. Implicit in this was the understanding that all work was underpinned by political conviction. In this sense, mandos’ most important function was to exercise their moral authority. Their specialism was less important than who they were and what they stood for.
The basis for the authority of the mandos shifted as SF developed its own identity. In its earliest days before the Civil War, it had defined itself largely in relationship to the male Falange. Its 1937 statutes had declared that woman’s mission was ‘to serve as the perfect complement of man’ and that SF would bring ‘an essentially feminine sense and style to the virile work of the Falange, in order to assist, complement and complete that work’. [25] But expansion and bureaucratization altered the dynamic of SF and this was mirrored in the conferences. At the earliest of these, mandos were a largely passive audience, listening to expositions of the teachings of José Antonio delivered by male speakers such as the paediatrician, Dr Luque, or the religious adviser, Fray Justo Pérez de Urbel. But by the early 1950s, the annual forum had became the platform for mandos of both hierarchies to report on progress and debate problems. Male advice on the interpretation of Falangism had given way to practical considerations of how each department and province was faring. Mandos needed the ability to compile annual reports as well as the confidence to deliver speeches and argue their corner. Having been told by Pilar at the 1941 conference that they were not to become orators (‘We do not want to make … female orators of you. There could be nothing further from what we stand for than the former woman in parliament, bawling her head off on stage to get votes’ [26]), their job increasingly required them to be something very similar.
Even for elites operating in the early atmosphere of deference to the male Falange, there was a clear contradiction between the Falangist message of female submission and the requirements placed on the deliverers of that message. From the outset, they had needed to be propagandists, pressing the unaffiliated into voluntary action and relying on their own resources to do the work. In SF, doctrine justified leadership as ‘the supreme office, which calls us to the highest sacrifice’. [27] Confusingly, this was seen as somehow compatible with a vision of woman as man’s assistant, and members were exhorted to keep out of the limelight: ‘Your work should be silent. The less that is seen and heard of Secciones Femeninas, the better. Contact with politics should not lead to your getting mixed up in intrigue and cunning, which are not becoming to women.’ [28]
The contradiction remained, but the dynamic shifted as mandos took to themselves more responsibilities. Pilar’s battles in the 1940s to take control of the female youth programme, Social Aid and social service reinforced the point. By 1945, SF was less an offshoot of the National Movement than a separate sphere in which the controlling group of women worked without reference to men. There was now even less reason for mandos to bow to male authority. When they were dealing with men, it was more likely be in a public arena and as equals. In these forums, mandos needed all the intellectual and managerial skills they could summon.
Some early mandos saw the potential for SF’s separate frame of reference as a career opportunity. The admission of women to the Falangist Students’ Syndicate (SEU) in 1935 gave women such as Mercedes Fórmica an early platform for political involvement. She left SEU and a subsequent post as editor of the magazine Medina in pursuit of her own legal and literary career, to continue in her own right what she considered as the ‘incomplete work’ of SF. [29] The experience of Mercedes Fórmica was shared by a number of early mandos, who came from the same social background as the founder members but did not stay in the organization. The cultural credentials of SF and in particular, its contribution to the intellectual wing of the Falange in wartime, were attractive to aspiring journalists such as Marichu de la Mora. Its first publication, the monthly journal Revista ‘Y’ carried material by Falangist writers and poets such as Eugenio D’Ors, Dionisio Ridruejo and Eugenio Montes. For Marichu de la Mora, becoming a mando gave access to that world and specifically to opportunities for work in her chosen field. Her posts as head of the press and propaganda department and subsequent editorship of Revista ‘Y’ were stepping stones in her own career. When the opportunities had been exploited, she left to make a career outside. [30]
For other women, employment in specialist departments gave opportunities to pursue personal interests and ideas. This was the case with Mercedes Otero, whose post in SF’s Foreign Service required her to organize and lead a choirs and dances visit to Wales at the age of nineteen. The specialist knowledge about dance she gained on this and a Latin American tour with choirs and dances led to a job outside SF as consultant to a film director. From here, she became a script assistant and remained within the film industry for the next twelve years. [31]
For these three women the attractions of the staff corps were measured in terms of personal outcomes and none felt a conflict of loyalties when they took their talents elsewhere. Similarly, there were non-political reasons why aspiring teachers and nurses might choose an SF academy in which to train. The course for primary teachers at Las Navas, for example, had a high reputation in its own right and was always over-subscribed. There were grants for the highest-performing students and the course included cultural visits and a ski trip. Training in an SF academy equipped future teachers to offer extra-curricular activities such as carol competitions, school plays and gym displays. Such work was officially credited to teachers’ service records by the local SF. There was no payment, but such service would count in the teacher’s favour when she was applying for a transfer.
But for many who passed through Las Navas and other SF academies, their level of involvement never grew after the initial training. The organization had provided their professional base and while they might well offer time and expertise in the service of their local SF, the majority would not move to a full-time career in either of the hierarchies. Alongside these women, however, was a smaller number for whom a career in the caring professions was not enough. For them, the staff corps of SF gave access to a certain lifestyle, seen as attractive and desirable. Reasons for joining had much to do with their perceptions of the role in society played by mandos and how this could fulfil personal ambitions.
Part of the attraction of SF was its engagement with the rebuilding of Spain. In the organicist world-view of the regime and SF within it, Spain was an ailing nation, in need of ‘new’ and ‘modern’ solutions to replace the status quo of the Second Republic. In this sense, as Rita Felski has discussed, modernity as a concept could be termed as ‘synonymous with the repudiation of the past and a commitment to change and the values of the future’. [32] For SF, whose discourse polarized the failures of pre-Civil War Spain and the projected successes of the Falangist Revolution, the main problem of the nation -- and particularly its womenfolk -- was ignorance, the legacy of failed parliamentary systems. The single most important task of the mandos was to eradicate this through education. As Pilar said in 1940:
The majority of women in Spain are either uneducated or their education has shortcomings…. Of course, they are not to blame. It is the fault of the old, worn-out system … which gave them the vote in the elections and wanted to flatter them but was incapable of educating them. [33]
The content of SF programmes reflected the organization’s beliefs and values. The motive for the introduction of domestic subjects and physical education was to equip pupils for marriage and motherhood. And underneath the rhetoric proclaiming that education was needed for all, SF varied the tone and message of that education. To working-class women, mandos taught the virtues of domesticity in the utmost detail through the social service programme. By contrast, SF’s equivalent course for university students -- the mandos of the future -- paid only lip service to practicalities and concentrated on political and cultural matters.
Similar class divisions were drawn in SF’s approach to culture. The libraries of SF would supply a controlled and restricted diet of leisure reading in accordance with the official view of the populace as being ‘minors in need of supervision’, as Helen Graham has said. [34] Mandos were warned at the 1941 SF conference: ‘Together with our request that women should read, we emphasize the enormous danger that certain books can hold…. You cannot give everyone who wants to read a free choice of book.’ [35]
But there was no attempt to control higher culture, as demonstrated by SF’s involvement with the Madrid Ladies’ Residence (Residencia de Señoritas). From its heyday during the Second Republic, it was closed at the beginning of the Civil War and its founder, María de Maeztu, left the country. It was reopened in 1940 by SF and was soon under the principalship of one of the first mandos, Viky Eiroa. Incredibly, given the narrowness of the official line on women’s culture, the Residence picked up where it had left off. That Viky Eiroa continued both its spirit and routines is confirmed by a student who stayed there under both regimes. [36]
The social background and age of the mandos had its effect, too, in public perceptions of their role. In many cases, their upbringing had equipped them with experience of charity work or managing household staff. Their ensuing organizational skills were often seen as bossiness by those outside. As SF became more powerful, with its role in education and its control of social service, there was the potential for abuse of the authority that members had been given. This was in contravention of the SF concept of leadership, which preached transmission of political truths through camaraderie and silent example setting. Nonetheless, it was apparently the case that the social service attendance rules and the sanctions for non-compliance were interpreted according to the strictness of the local mando. [37] As SF women continued in post, in many cases for their whole working life, it also became harder to sustain the fiction of leaders as being eternally young. SF youth instructors were exhorted to project themselves as youthful and fashionable, far removed from the stereotypical image of a teacher: ‘You must be young for your age and for your temperament, so that flechas (youth members) never see their teachers as grumpy, with their hair a mess and wearing glasses, like teachers we have all known and who spoiled our childhood.’ [38]
Defying reality, SF retained its construct of the mando as the possessor of eternal youth and vigour. Consciously or not, the working conditions of staff at the national office appear to have informed the rest of the organization and norms of dress and behaviour were understood and widespread. SF uniform was worn by all ranks in La Nacional up to 1956. Its plain, tailored look together with other manifestations of modernity such as the short hairstyles and make-up worn by many staff summed up the contradictory self-image of the mando as both a leader of women and yet a champion of their inferior role. She was dressed to work, unconstrained by fussy clothes, mobile and active. But the uniform could also be read as an assimilation of women’s subordination, a projection of modesty and service to the common cause. Like the conditions of employment, it distinguished its wearers as different from but unthreatening to the status quo.
The dress code and general demeanour of the mandos epitomized José Antonio’s remark that Spain itself should be ‘joyful and dressed in short skirts’ [39] and dated back to SF’s earliest days. Its origins may well have reflected SF’s early desire to be associated with and yet separate from the male Falange, but however it developed, style (estilo) became SF’s main statement of populism. It was an amalgam of dress code and comportment which summed up mandos and the work they were doing. The essence of estilo was a mixture of unobtrusive efficiency and a directness in personal dealings, both of which set mandos apart from other women, particularly those in traditional Catholic circles. It was an indicator that the femininity and high moral standards expected by Francoist society were compatible with an active and campaigning lifestyle, a combination rarely seen outside SF. When combined with behavioural norms, the ‘way of being’ (manera de ser), Pilar went so far as to claim that style became an observable phenomenon: ‘Once your “way of being” as Catholic Falangists is achieved, your Falangist style will show through.’ [40] In Pilar’s understanding, style was observable not just by physical appearance but by voice, conversation, relationships and way of working. Principles governing style were enumerated in SF training literature. Moral rectitude and sobriety of manner were essential: mandos had to be above reproach and resolute in their work and private life. They would be distinguished by joy and ‘tranquility in their decisions and calm even in their outer bearing’. [41]
Understanding and acceptance of style was a prerequisite for admission to the staff corps. Style was a core concept, a truth that remained unaltered in the life of SF and was such a reliable signifier of talent and potential that it appeared as a category on testimonials and personal files. ‘Does she possess Falangist style and way of being?’ was among the questions that provincial leaders had to answer on the official forms recommending women for mandos’ posts. [42] For mandos, it was the defining and unchanging badge of belonging to SF, observable to outsiders but attainable only by the initiated. It was visible to all, but its core meaning, origin and manner of acquisition could not be understood by anyone not trained for leadership at SF’s national academy.
SF style was the external sign of the world-view shared by all mandos. Apart from their ideological beliefs, membership of the staff corps was understood to entail a corporate way of working towards the goal of the Falangist Revolution. It was this shared identity translated into working routines and patterns that distinguished mandos from those on the periphery such as the teachers and nurses often described as ‘working with SF’. Hierarchical progression within the mandos signified, among other things, working more closely around the ideological core of SF - -Pilar’s team at Almagro [36].
Perhaps even more significant was the fact of the staff corps’s existence as a community without men. In this respect, the development of SF had always been contradictory as being outwardly dependent on men but actually self-sufficient. Its original raison d’être of assisting men in all their endeavours had quickly been overtaken by the agenda of women’s issues. The task of educating the female population had few reference points with men. The proclaimed camaraderie with male colleagues in the National Movement was largely symbolic and the relationship with ministers and Franco was one of negotiation and persuasion, attempting to keep the SF agenda at the forefront of politics.
There were undoubtedly attractions for women in entering this exclusively female world. First was the encouragement and companionship implicit in the separateness of the career structure and working conditions. The fact that they were paid so little gave them a certain moral superiority, a fact reinforced by SF’s guidance manual for local leaders:
Camaradas must have a magnificent record proving their spirit and selflessness. Salaries are too small to be considered a living wage for members. They are no more than a small gratuity to help financially…. Only certain posts are salaried and then only after (camaradas) have shown their spirit by working without payment. [43]
The exclusivity of the separate sphere of the staff corps also permitted a different kind of working relationship with the men. SF was only a constituent part of the National Movement and its leadership was hierarchically beneath that of its head, the Secretary-General. In practice, however, the distinction seems to have been lost on the civil population, particularly as it was frequently the SF which was the more active. [44] Mandos in the political hierarchy connected directly with offices in the National Movement’s bureaucracy and in some areas shared premises. There was a need to work with the ‘kings of the village’, the priest, doctor, schoolteacher and mayor. In the service hierarchy, mandos in the travelling schools did likewise, and also had to relate to the working men of the village, persuading them to come to literacy and other classes. By the 1960s, when women could be elected to the Francoist parliament as ‘family representatives’ and there were more women in the workplace, the presence and intervention of such mandos was less exceptional. Before this time, they stood out in a male-dominated society as the only women exercising moral and political authority.
The other side of the coin was how mandos were perceived by those men who were in contact with them. From those least in the know about what the job entailed, their forthrightness and determination could be interpreted as indicators of lesbianism or at the very least denoting a masculine, military style. Those nearer the core of SF, whether through experience of working with them or because they were married to mandos, are predictably more charitable. In the words of one such husband, the fact that they were mobile, well travelled and sports loving gave them ‘the label of modernity’. [45]
Central to the separateness of the staff corps from the rest of the female population was the mandos’ ability to live a professional life, with certain social outlets, without the need for marriage. The official line set in the 1930s that all mandos had to be unmarried was dropped as SF realized that this was less important than members’ readiness to serve and their personal qualities. Nonetheless, there was a widespread public perception that all mandos were unmarried and unmarriageable. The initials of SF’s widest-reaching programme, the social service scheme (SS), were said to stand for ‘permanent spinsters’ (siempre solteras). Within SF, too, it was understood that very many staff members would remain unmarried. As one local leader recalls: ‘The real mandos were always single.’ [46]
But in reality, the mandos were not a homogeneous group of single women. The earliest staff included those whose fiancés and husbands had been killed in action. Others in the early years, including some of the most influential mandos, did leave to marry. Some continued to work after marriage and others returned to active service once their children were older. Particularly in the immediate post-war years, the closed world of the staff corps could offer an alternative existence for those denied a conventional family life. The designing of the training schools and camps as ‘Falangist homes’ underlined SF’s idealized vision of the body of mandos as a united family. As the national editorial team of the magazine Revista ‘Y’ claimed for its readers: ‘We will all help each other, we will all protect each other, and as there is strength in unity, there will be nothing and no-one able to resist the overwhelming mass of women who have understood the meaning of the word solidarity.’ [47] Even after the immediate post-war period, it continued to be the case that while the public may have believed otherwise, there was no bar to mandos’ marrying and many did so. In some cases, their post in SF had brought them into contact with their future partner, although the opposite point of view -- that there was no time for a social life -- held good for many.
However significant the differences in their reasons for joining the staff and whether or not they married, mandos throughout the regime shared an understanding of their postings on both an intellectual and emotional level. Their belief in the legitimacy of the Falangist cause, confidence in their own abilities and an acceptance that work for SF was a form of service was common to all. To those outside, especially men, this was often perceived in a negative way. By the 1950s, it was common for higher mandos to be university graduates, and their added political awareness gained from SF courses gave them an academic edge which scared off many men. But just as commonly, it was the women who made no effort to find a partner because they were fully engaged with their life in SF.
Certain aspects of postings gave obvious freedoms and increased confidence to the post-holders. Being mobile was a necessary requirement for mandos, who regularly attended conferences or courses and made frequent job moves. Residence at summer camps was, in its own way, a holiday and work with choirs and dances led routinely to travel around and outside Spain. In the immediate post-war period, when Spain’s infrastructure was at its poorest and daily life very hard for the majority, mandos’ posts opened up possibilities of leisure and travel that had no equivalent outside. Also significant was the social network of women with shared interests. Residential courses and the daily routines of SF offices often spilled over into social activities. Working lunches, political discussions and shared journeys, for example, blurred the distinction between work and leisure. Particularly for staff in La Nacional, their work and social calendar was centred round the office, which had around one hundred permanent staff working through the year. Here, groups of between ten and fifteen women worked as departmental teams with frequent intervention from Pilar, whose dynamism gave pace and a measure of unpredictability to the working day and whose idiosyncracies were a further bond among her team. [48]
Less measurable was how mandos perceived their self-worth and their pride in belonging to an elite. There was an acceptance of a renunciation of self, as evidenced by the need to be moved, promoted or demoted according to the needs of the organization. They felt themselves to be stakeholders in the future of Spain, making an explicit connection between the nation’s future and their own programmes. And while the nature of their job required them to show tact and diplomacy, they were also at times outspoken and controversial. Mandos seem to have relished their encounters with mother superiors, government ministers or anyone failing to implement social justice as conceived by SF. Such conflicts proclaimed their duty to defend Falangism against ‘injury, irony or malice’ and more significantly, underlined their own resilience and eloquence. [49]
But there was a fine line to be drawn between mandos’ personal development and SF’s tolerance of their individuality. The organization was big enough for personality conflicts to be resolved often by voluntary transfers but women who challenged the status quo of SF could not survive in post. Thus, for example, a local leader could go against policy in matters of detail in the cause of Falangism. [50] Open defiance, however, brought expulsion even when the behaviour of the mando was entirely well meaning. [51] And on occasions the organization seems to have shown a curious lack of trust in its elites, as for example at the referendum to ratify the Law of Succession in 1947, when local mandos in one area were issued with voting forms that were already filled in. [52]
Yet despite the shifting social base of the mandos and the changing political climate, the motivation for joining the staff corps appears to have remained constant. The core beliefs in José Antonio, the potential greatness of Spain and their own ability to make a valid contribution to the development of the nation did not alter, even at the end of the 1950s. This was surprising, given the difference between the conditions during and after the Civil War and the relative prosperity twenty years on. But however much living standards were improving, they did not challenge the basis on which the mandos found their abiding sense of self-worth. The distinctive world of which they were part was a private sphere, with its own codes, rituals and conventions. The fact of belonging allowed women a separate frame of reference from that of their family and other commitments. From a public perspective, the memory of what SF had contributed in the early post-war years kept its credentials intact. Mandos continued to enjoy the respect, if not always the full understanding, of the public at large.
Arguably, the closed world of the mandos was full of contradictions, the greatest of which was that their lifestyle was in direct contrast to the gender ideology they were responsible for implementing. In the SF understanding, militarism, youth and energy embodied the values of José Antonio, particularly social justice. The prominence of mandos in local communities, their often vociferous stand on issues and their general air of confidence as seen by the general public vindicated this. But the self-worth they projected was derived very largely from the framework in which they were doing their job. The singular conditions for employment allowed mandos to do ‘real’ work in terms of personal satisfaction while ensuring that the job was not a conventionally paid position. This allowed women the sociability and opportunities of an ideal workplace while safeguarding them from the charge of being intellectuals or feminists. Although they were not salaried in the accepted sense, they enjoyed the freedom of movement, social outlets and public platforms that were simply unavailable to women in the more conventional private sphere of the home.
The contradictions inherent in the lives of mandos were also illustrative of SF’s status as an organization with potentially modernizing elements within a regime which based its legitimacy on an idealized view of the past and sought to eradicate the emancipatory and reforming efforts of the Second Republic. The essential incompatibility of SF’s position was understood and rationalized within the organization as being part of the ‘Falangist Revolution’. But ironically, the cornerstones of that Revolution were no more than a veneer. Social justice as a classless concept did not exist within SF. The principles of the domestic and social skills programmes were firmly centred round middle-class values of thrift, prudence and keeping up appearances. The ‘Falange Revolution’ had less to do with radical change than with equipping women to operate better within their domestic sphere. And even the basis on which SF mandos were appointed was never truly classless. SF inclusiveness was largely symbolic, confined to the understanding and interpretation of estilo, the camaraderie of the national team and the endless propaganda which proclaimed SF as an organization which reached out to all women.
But the class base of the mandos and their message and the sometimes unflattering public image they conveyed are less significant than the personal outcomes for those involved. SF service provided, in a limited and controlled way, some of the benefits of employment and continuing education that future generations of women would take for granted. The independence gained was a double-edged sword. The mando’s lifestyle distanced her from the majority of her sex, whose prime goals were marriage and motherhood. Men might value her companionship and conversation but were relatively unlikely to consider her as a marriage partner. The regime publicly praised SF work yet the mando earned tiny amounts. In the end, the drawbacks were less important than the belief that she was participating in a work of national importance and her own sense of satisfaction.
Plate 6.1 SF national office, Madrid, now the Institute of the Woman. Source: K. Richmond.
Plate 6.2 Mandos outside La Mota. Source: J. Alcántara.
Plate 6.3 Mandos at the 1943 SF national conference, Santiago de Compostela. From left to right: Pilar Morales, Mercedes Morales, Tina Ridruejo, Pilar Rodríguez de Velasco, Julia Alcántara, Marina Conde. Source: J. Alcántara.
Plate 6.4 Pilar Primo de Rivera. Source: Asociación Nueva Andadura.