The simple fact is that the great mass of the people have no voice at all in the election of their representatives. Nominally voting is free: actually it is not.[22]
The whole administrative system is centralised in Madrid, and the various Government offices interfere in local affairs to an extent inconceivable to an Englishman, accustomed for generations to manage his own affairs his own way. One result of this is that the elections to the Cortes are, in fact if not in theory, conducted from Madrid. In every small town and rural district there is a person known as the Cacique, usually a large employer of labour or a moneylender, to whom most of the working population of the district look for employment, or in whose debt they are. So enormous is the usury that once a loan has been raised, many a borrower has been unable to free himself from debt for the rest of his life. I have known cases where as much as 75 per cent. per annum has been paid for a trifling loan. Thus the Cacique, whether as employer or moneylender, or both, has the majority of the constituency under his thumb. He receives his instructions from Madrid, and issues his orders accordingly. If by chance the voting goes wrong, the returns are falsified; but this does not often happen, for the voters are so convinced that the exercise of their legal right of choice, if in opposition to the wish of the authorities, will result in loss of employment, that either they abstain or they vote as they are ordered.
The existence of the Cacique is one of the great obstacles to any effective decentralisation. If the villages and rural districts were given the management of their own affairs, the Cacique would be more absolute than ever. One can hardly open a paper without finding a report of some case of his arbitrary interference with local matters. If he is, as he usually is, the friend or creature of the Civil Governor of the Province, who is the nominee of the Ministry, he does what he likes and there is no redress against his illegal and oppressive action.
The following stories illustrate the method of conducting elections in Spain.
One man complained that a Conservative had given him a dollar for his vote, and after he had voted he found that the dollar was bad. “Had I not already voted, how gladly would I have given you gentlemen the advantage!” he said to a group of Liberals. “But you see I am left without my vote in exchange for a bad dollar. Never again will I sell my vote to the Conservatives!”
Another rascal went to the office of a Liberal paper to complain that “a thief” had contracted with him to engage some twenty fellow-rogues to vote to order. He fulfilled his part of the contract and took his twenty to the poll, but when he went to claim his pay the contractor had disappeared.
“And here I am many pesetas out of pocket,” he lamented; “for not only have I lost the large profit the thief offered me, but I had to pay my friends two reals apiece before they would stir out of the wine-shop.”
In one district the Liberals boasted that for years they had never bought a vote. “Partly,” as my informant ingenuously said, “because we have always had a safe majority, but partly also because we prefer to be honest. But,” he continued, “we learnt this time that a party of Conservatives intended to interfere with us, so we prepared a party of the same kind to receive them. ‘Do not begin to fight,’ said my father, ‘but if they begin, hit hard.’ They did begin, and our leader obeyed orders. He hit the leader of the other side so hard that he knocked out four of his front teeth, and that was the end of the fighting in our district.”
All these incidents are said to have occurred in the municipal elections of 1909. One more is worth mentioning.
In a town of some twenty thousand inhabitants, where for many years past an Ultramontane Cacique has been supreme, that gentleman rose early on the polling-day and personally roused the dwellers in the gipsy quarters—mostly the biggest ruffians in the place—out of their beds.