On June 15, 1977, just a year and a half after the death of Generalissimo Francisco Franco, Spaniards elected a new, bicameral Cortes with the authority to write a constitution for Spain. It was the first freely contested parliamentary election in Spain since February 15, 1936, and it produced scenes that Franco would have abhorred: Communists brazenly waving red banners, chanting slogans, and singing the Internationale; the young, dynamic leader of the Socialist Workers Party entering rallies with his left hand in a clenched fist salute, his right signaling V for victoria; politicians exhorting Basques in Euskera, Catalans in Catalan, Galicians in Gallego, all forbidden languages a few years before; and newspapers belittling their government and its leader. Following four decades of repression and fear, more than 18 million Spaniards voted in a peaceful campaign that presented all points of view, no matter how repulsive to the king, the government or the memory of Franco. Taking advantage of a system weighted against the Left, Premier Adolfo Suárez led the Union of the Democratic Center, with 35 percent of the votes, to a near majority of seats in the Congress of Deputies. The results promised stability and a budding two-party system and produced a new and attractive political figure, 35-year-old Felipe González, the First Secretary of the Socialist Workers Party (PSOE), who has time now to persuade Spaniards that he is the obvious alternative to Suárez should the Premier falter. The election, however, fulfilled only part of the promise that King Juan Carlos had made in his speech to the U. S. Congress on June 2, 1976...

BEFORE the murder of Tom Mboya in July 1969, Kenya politicians could mute and obscure their country’s tribal tensions. The tensions, of course, were always there, straining the fragile unity of the new country, but they did not pervade every side of political life. Personal rivalry counted; so did ideology. The assassination changed all that. For more than a year, Kenya was torn by a dangerous and blatant tribal conflict that colored all political activity. In a sense, this only followed what had happened elsewhere in Africa, where crisis invariably heightens tribal hatreds and suspicions. The results, as Nigeria showed, can be terrifying. But Kenya is not another Nigeria. In recent months, the fury has diminished, giving Kenya a time of calm to deal with its tribal problem. Its future depends on whether its politicians learn to do so. At stake is a land of 10.5 million people led by pragmatic men who have nursed the old white settler economy so well that Kenya has one of the highest economic growth rates in black Africa. No other black African country has anything to compare with its fertile soil and energetic farmers. Its wildlife and incredible and varied beauty have made it the tourist center of black Africa. But all this is threatened by the instability inherent in tribalism. Before analyzing the tribal problem, it makes sense to recount the excited political events of the country since the death of Mboya.