Francoist Repression in the Canary Islands

Fifty years after the dictator’s death, we remember the lasting imprint of terror that was etched onto the islands for decades.

The repression in the Canary Islands was not the result of a direct armed conflict, but of a deliberate policy of domination. The regime employed physical, psychological, and symbolic violence to crush any form of resistance. Arrests without trial, extrajudicial executions, and makeshift detention centers (such as La Isleta, the Lazareto of Gando, and the Fyffes prison in Tenerife) were integral parts of this systematic strategy.

The Fyffes prison in Tenerife became a detention hub that at one point held more than 1,500 people in inhumane conditions. Over 4,000 inmates passed through its walls during twelve years, many of whom disappeared.

Common Graves and “Sacas” to the Sea

In Tenerife, being thrown into the sea was a frequent fate. Victims were taken from their homes or detained in Fyffes, shipped on prison boats, and dumped into the ocean—an act many consider a “large common grave.”

Numerous investigations have documented these crimes; for example, at the Llano de las Brujas and Tenoya sites (Arucas, Gran Canaria), remains bearing signs of execution (skulls with bullet impacts) were uncovered in investigations carried out in 2008 and 2017.

A study conducted by the Association for the Recovery of Historical Memory identified 182 fatal victims of Francoist repression (ranging from extrajudicial executions to torture or summary trials), the majority being young men linked to labor parties and trade‑union organizations such the CNT, PSOE, or the Communist Party.

Some sources estimate at least 21 documented mass graves throughout the archipelago (in Tenerife, Gran Canaria, La Palma, and La Gomera) with 471 documented disappearances: 337 in Gran Canaria, 49 in Tenerife, 74 in La Palma, and 17 in La Gomera; plus 122 identified victims who were shot.

Repression in Fuerteventura

In Fuerteventura, arrests, summary trials, and a few executions were recorded (at least two native Fuerteventurans were shot, though the executions took place in Gran Canaria). Officials, teachers, and others deemed “suspicious” were purged, many being transferred to the island as a form of punishment or confinement. The case of republican professor and intellectual Juan Millares Carló, father of painter Manolo Millares, exemplifies this logic of internal exile.

Later, Fuerteventura was used as a place of exile for political opponents. A notable case is the “Munich Conspiracy” of 1962: several Christian‑democratic politicians were confined to Fuerteventura for months after participating in opposition meetings in Germany.

Between 1954 and 1966, the island hosted the so‑called Tefía Agricultural Penitentiary Colony, a “re‑education” camp with the character of a concentration camp. Although its official purpose was the enforcement of the Law of Vagrants and Delinquents, in practice it served the Francoist regime as an instrument of social and moral repression.

People considered “socially dangerous” were interned there, including common prisoners, political dissidents, homosexuals, and transsexuals. Inmates endured forced agricultural labor under inhumane conditions, as well as humiliation, sexual repression, and religious indoctrination—a typical Francoist strategy of ideological subjugation.

Institutional Initiatives

In 2025, the central government allocated subsidies for numerous investigations and exhumations across the islands:

• La Palma: almost €96,000 to intervene in the Vaguada de la Araña mass grave (Fuencaliente).
• Tenerife: roughly €100,000 for studies at Fuente Cañizares, the Pozo de los Alemanes (Arona), the María Jiménez and San Andrés caves, as well as coastal areas such as Garachico, Los Silos, and Buenavista del Norte.
• Gran Canaria: €100,000 earmarked for interventions in sinkholes, graves, and wells.
• Fuerteventura: €100,000 to transform the Tefía penitentiary colony into a museum and interpretive centre on LGTBIQ+ repression.

Exhumations: Memory and Justice

Exhumations of mass graves are a fundamental tool for activating collective memory, revealing the true spatial, social, and emotional scope of the repression, and providing reparations to families. Their execution fuels discourse on trauma and promotes social justice, dignity, and recognition of the victims.

This effort also responds to the need for historical justice, aligning with recent initiatives throughout Spain. In municipalities such as Campillos (Málaga), common graves containing republican victims have been documented, including an exceptionally high proportion of women—over 20 %, compared with the national average of 3‑5 %—highlighting patterns of extreme violence. Other notable exhumations, such as those in Jaén (graves 548, 438, and 702, containing around 1,250 bodies, including prominent republican figures), demonstrate the scale and symbolic‑human value of these projects.

A critical focus on the Francoist “funerary apartheid” is also essential: the regime prioritized tributes to its own “fallen,” while consigning republican victims to anonymity in common graves.