Truth, Justice, and the American Way in Franco’s

LOUIE DEAN VALENCIA-GARCÍA

When Superman first arrived to fascist Spain from the planet “Crypton” in 1940, a year after the end of the , he was clad in yellow tights and a red and blue cape—the colors of the recently fallen Spanish Republic—and was known as “Ciclón, el Superhombre,” or “Cyclone, the Superman.” Initially failing to find a fan base in Spain, Ciclón disappeared after three years of sporadic publication. Early attempts by Spanish publishers to print Superman were censored for having either attacked Catholic dogma, morality, the church, the regime (or its institutions), or those whom had collaborated with the regime,1 thus leaving publication of such genre comic books primarily to foreign printers. Despite his appearance throughout the 1940s in the less popular Argentine children’s magazines Bil- liken and La Pandilla, it was not until the regular publication of Superman’s 1950’s reincarnation, translated and published by the Mexican press Editorial Novaro,2 that the American icon was broadly popularized in Spain.3 While the Spanish importation of the American superhero certainly reflected American cultural imperialism of the post-war era, the fascist regime in Spain was especially aware of the capacity for Superman comics’ pluralistic tropes to subvert Francoist constructions of society, sexuality, and gender roles. Spain’s heroes were supposed to be José Antonio de Rivera, the founder and martyr of the fascist party in Spain, and the authoritarian dictator Fran- cisco Franco, who ruled Spain from 1939 until his death in 19754; there was no room in that mythology for an American superhero. However, as Walther Bernecker has described, of the long 1960s were experiencing a change of mentalitie, particularly visible amongst young people, that coincided with political, economic, and cultural changes in the second half of the Fran- coist dictatorship. In this period Spaniards migrated from rural communities to metropolitan capitals, experienced both a general escalation in standard of

45 46 The Ages of Superman living and an increased amount of tourism, a rise in consumerism, and increased contact with foreign popular cultures.5 The long 1960s in Spain engendered a period of tension between the old guard of the regime and a new generation of young people that had no memory of the Spanish Civil War—a generation that looked toward both Spanish pluralistic traditions of old and to a budding global youth culture. The primary battleground of this threat was found in everyday life; it was the regime’s intent to disrupt this invasion of foreign influences, one of these targets being Superman comics that seemed to extol democratic (and capitalist) ideals. Fearful of these comics, in 1959 the Spanish Ministry of Information and Tourism created the Commission of Information and Child and Youth Publications (CICYP), which was lead by Juan Beneyto Pérez, head of the National Press Council, and the Dominican priest Jesús María Vázquez, as well representatives from the Ministry of Education and Science, the State School of Journalism, the Female Section of the Traditional Spanish Falange, the National Delegation of Youth, and the Episcopal Commission of Com- munications, amongst others.6 After several years of censorship the Spanish Ministry of Information and Tourism decided to completely ban Superman comics in 1964 under the advisement of its CICYP because of tropes that threatened to delegitimize the regime through its publication of non-tradi- tional values. Prior to the ban Supermán was the top- selling in Spain.7 However, refusing to give up their favorite comics, young Spaniards continued reading Superman comics despite the prohibition.8 Aware of the ineffectuality of the ban, the CICYP consulted with the Institute of Public Opinion, to create a public campaign against Superman comics, headed by Alfonso Alvarez Villar, the director of the Institutes’ journal, the Spanish Journal of Public Opinion (SJPO).9 Alvarez’ role in this campaign is significant as his position allowed him to easily inform the highest ranks of the administration of the danger of the American icon. Further, the primary purpose of the journal was to provide the administration of the regime with surveys and analysis of popular opinion for purposes of state control; the fact that Alvarez himself took a lead role in these studies indicates the import of this threat to the regime. Two years after Superman’s prohibition, in an attempt to counter this threat, Alvarez wrote one of the most ardent attacks on Super- man in the SJPO. Most of the readers of the journal were high- ranking Fran- coist officials (and not curious academics) that would have been interested in public opinion for reasons of propaganda and state control; this governmental report, to which few eyes had access, formed part of the regime’s strategy to prevent the inculcation of counter-normative tropes in Spanish youth. The first forty years of Superman in Spain were tumultuous at best, as censors, religious figures, and sociologists under the dictatorship fought the The American Way in Franco’s Spain (Valencia-García) 47 importation of the American superhero because of the “threat” to Spanish youth that the icon represented, a hero that exalted pluralistic, capitalistic, democratic American ideals. So real was the threat that Superman represented to the regime that Alvarez wrote in 1966, despite two years of prohibition, “Supermán nevertheless continues prowling through the minds of our chil- dren, adolescents and even the majority of Spanish adults.... Supermán con- tinues alive in Spain and it is possible that he will never die.”10 Alvarez further cited a survey conducted for the journal, reporting that 148 out of 150 children, ages nine to twelve years old, of “distinct social classes,” read Superman comic books, indicating that Superman was indeed still popular despite prohibition. Even as the regime was generally moving toward a less restrictive censorship policy, with the Ley de la Prensa of 1966, a provision included mandatory review of children’s literature by the CICYP.11 Alvarez’ assault on Superman was the just one attack in a larger battle against the Man of Steel, as this report was intended to incite a wider campaign against Superman comics. In his detailed 30-page study of the “myth of Super- man,” Alvarez vehemently attacked Superman. In fact, the CICYP provided Alvarez with their own collection of comics so that to further the campaign against Superman.12 By the end of the 1960s, numerous articles had been pub- lished in Spanish newspapers attacking Superman. Such drastic measures to curtail young people from reading comics was not only indicative of the per- ceived danger of these comics, but also points to the continued resistance to the prohibition by young people.

Forms and Functions of Superman Comic Books in the 1960s

Understanding Superman comics in Spain first necessitates a look at the social, political, and cultural forces that influenced American comic books published during the McCarthy era from which the Spanish comics were translated. In the 1950s, U.S. congressional inquiries into perceived “commu- nist” and “moral” threats to American youth prompted the creation of the self-regulatory “Comics Code Authority,” forcing comic books publishers to sanitize their publications, and conform to the political pressures of the era.13 As a result, many comic books of the period appeared not only overtly “Amer- ican” in tone, but skewed toward a representation of the U.S. that viewed its hero as being a “perfect” exemplar for young Americans—an immigrant fully inculcated with the ideology of his adopted homeland, living a puritanical, idealistic existence while extolling ideas of democracy, “truth, justice and the American way.” 48 The Ages of Superman

For young Americans of the 1950s Superman idealized American excep- tionalism and puritanical tropes; young Spaniards interpreted these comic books in ways that differed drastically from their U.S. contemporaries. While Superman undeniably represented an extension of “Americanization” and cul- tural imperialism, the superhero also became representative of implicit every- day dissent against the Francoist regime. The popularity of Superman comics in Spain reflected a desire by Spanish youth to embrace democratic and plu- ralistic ideals. In the U.S., Superman comics arguably represented normative behavior, however, in Spain, the hero represented an alternative vision of society and politics. These stories that represented a hyper-idealization of democracy and justice, the hyper-modern city of “Metropolis,” and the nebulous- yet- hopeful “American way” contained subversive ideas that threat- ened the dictatorship. Tebeos, traditional Spanish comics, were lauded as being particularly “Spanish” by the regime; not only did most tebeos escape prohibition, but they also played into a national agenda that promoted “Spanishness.”14 Nev- ertheless, despite Superman’s prohibition, according to one 1965 government- conducted survey of some 700 boys and girls, Supermán was still the most popular superhero comic book in Spain, and the fifth most popular overall in the tebeo category. Further, Supermán was the second most favored comic amongst boys, behind Hazañas Bélicas (War Deeds). While Superman was less popular amongst girls, his adventures still were amongst the top- favored.15 According to the same survey, Superman held the strongest fan base amongst upper- middle class youth—more than double that of young people from the l o w - i n c o m e ( clase baja) households. Superman was favored by privileged youth, and was even more popular than Capitán Trueno, who was a “” sort of figure—a gallant Spanish knight set in the 12th century.16 Superman even remained popular despite the fact that the regime actively tried to promote comics such as Capitán Trueno to displace Supermán.17 As Michel de Certeau has described in The Practice of Everyday Life, tales and legends have a particular role in society, teaching “tactics” to subvert authorities of power.18 Certeau further argues that everyday life is riddled with ways in which people “poach” ideas and reappropriate them, rather than sim- ply being passive consumers of culture. Through the constructions of figures, alliterations and play on words found in tales and legends, tactics are remem- bered, taught and incorporated into everyday practices, resulting in the sub- version of established order through the use of ‘tropes, ordinary languages and ruses, displacements, and ellipses” in order to counter “proper meanings.” While these “fables” are indeed, as Certeau states, “fabulous,” their cultural currency, in the face of repression, is indicative of their potential to subvert a hegemonic authoritarian system. The personages of Superman, Lois Lane, The American Way in Franco’s Spain (Valencia-García) 49

Supergirl, Superboy, and even the city of “Metropolis” must be considered through this lens under the Francoist dictatorship. While those characters and situations might now appear conservative and contrived, to the young readers of Superman comics in the 1950s and 1960s, those stories, and even possession of those comics, subverted the dictatorship. There was something exciting about reading the adventures of a foreign superhero that was strictly forbidden. In fact, despite their illegality, a single Superman comic book was often shared by numerous boys and girls. Faustino R. Arbesú (b. 1939), the founder of Salón Internacional del Cómic del Prin- cipado de Asturias, an important Spanish comic book conference begun in 1972, and the comic book journal El Wendigo (begun in 1974), recalls not only Ciclón, but remembers Supermán in the 1950s and 60s: ... we lived in a fascist state and Superman was public enemy number one. Hitler even gave discourses against Superman. They published him here [referring to Ciclón], but they erased the “S.” I didn’t have any Superman tebeos, but I had a friend that did, and I would go to his house to read them with delirium. In 1952 or 1953 [Supermán comics] finally arrived to Spain, but they came from Mexico and they cost a fortune. With that money you could go to the cinema two times. I never bought them, but I had an advantage.... My wife, who was well- to- do— she was the daughter of a doctor—had them.19 Indeed, the eventual supplanting of the Castilian word “tebeo” for the anglicized “cómic” by the 1970s further shows the import of American comic books and is demonstrative of their appropriation in form and language by young Spaniards. The imaginary counter-normative world found in Superman comics threatened the regime with: an “asexual,” submissive superman; a sex- ually dominant, professional woman who on occasion dressed as a man and was known for finding trouble in her role as investigative reporter, and for challenging the Man of Steel; and a modern metropolis that exalted the dom- inance of the modern American democracy and everyday life. In these comics young readers encountered tropes that were both counter-normative and sub- versive to the regime. Much like the cheap pamphlets and novels of the nineteenth century, both in the United States and abroad, comic books of the era were generally considered “low culture,” the domain of young people and a representation of adolescent agitation against both adults and high culture.20 While the suc- cess and global spread of Superman is reflective of late capitalism, consumerism and American cultural imperialism, these cheap, portable comics were also used as a type of “currency” by young people for trade—which implicitly positioned comic books to counter authority, consequently creating a system of trade that existed to some degree against capitalism and outside of normal consumerism once the comics were acquired by young people. In the Spanish