75
on campus. With the Chancellor in eclipse and everything in disarray, a decision was taken to appoint an authority figure, an acting chancellor, to take
charge of the situation and get everything back in order. They turned to me
and I was saddled with the problem. After thinking it over I decided to take
up the gauntlet; I felt a sense of obligation and responsibility, quite apart from
the fact that I had in any case drawn the short straw.
On 25 January 1978 I took charge of the chaotic situation. I went up to my
Vice-chancellor’s office on the first floor of the central building, next to the
Chancellery, and called the switchboard. I told the Commune that it was the
Acting Chancellor calling, and that I was in my usual office waiting for them
to come and see me. The office was immediately crammed with people, among
them leaders of the embryonic political parties, some of whom would be
future presidents of the Canarian Government. They were all talking at once.
As there was a great commotion outside the door, I went out to meet them.
The great stairway was crowded with noisy students. There was no way to
make myself heard, so I took the decision to open the auditorium. We all
crowded in, and the enormous theatre immediately became packed. The only
lecturer to ascend the platform with me was Gumersindo Trujillo. I could see
no other member of the teaching staff there.
It was an impressive spectacle, palpitating and filled to the brim from the
stalls to the gods. On the ceiling was depicted a fresco of heroic and victorious
youths waving flags and bearing symbols of the Franco regime. The contrast
was stark. I managed to establish sufficient calm so that we could make ourselves heard. We debated for about two hours without interruption, everybody having his say. The assembly was becoming calmer, perhaps because it
was past lunchtime, until I was able to wind up the meeting and announce
that the University would reopen on the following Monday and classes resume.
Peace returned to the University, the Commune disbanded, and lecturers,
students, and administrative and service staff resumed their normal activities.
I continued to exercise the functions of Acting Chancellor from my Vicechancellor’s office. I had no intention of occupying the Chancellor's office,
neither the old one nor the newly built, bunker-like room in the recently
constructed central headquarters in the centre of the city. As there was no way
that Chancellor Bethencourt would return from Madrid, my position of academic authority was consolidated, and the Governing Council ratified my
appointment without the ministry taking any steps to prevent it. It was a
strange situation: the Chancellor having fled, the ministry accepted his selfimposed exile as a consummated fact and began to treat me as Acting
Chancellor. This situation prevailed until June 1980 when the Chancellor was
finally democratically elected. While all this was going on, Professor
9 The Reluctant Chancellor (1976–1980)
on campus. With the Chancellor in eclipse and everything in disarray, a decision was taken to appoint an authority figure, an acting chancellor, to take
charge of the situation and get everything back in order. They turned to me
and I was saddled with the problem. After thinking it over I decided to take
up the gauntlet; I felt a sense of obligation and responsibility, quite apart from
the fact that I had in any case drawn the short straw.
On 25 January 1978 I took charge of the chaotic situation. I went up to my
Vice-chancellor’s office on the first floor of the central building, next to the
Chancellery, and called the switchboard. I told the Commune that it was the
Acting Chancellor calling, and that I was in my usual office waiting for them
to come and see me. The office was immediately crammed with people, among
them leaders of the embryonic political parties, some of whom would be
future presidents of the Canarian Government. They were all talking at once.
As there was a great commotion outside the door, I went out to meet them.
The great stairway was crowded with noisy students. There was no way to
make myself heard, so I took the decision to open the auditorium. We all
crowded in, and the enormous theatre immediately became packed. The only
lecturer to ascend the platform with me was Gumersindo Trujillo. I could see
no other member of the teaching staff there.
It was an impressive spectacle, palpitating and filled to the brim from the
stalls to the gods. On the ceiling was depicted a fresco of heroic and victorious
youths waving flags and bearing symbols of the Franco regime. The contrast
was stark. I managed to establish sufficient calm so that we could make ourselves heard. We debated for about two hours without interruption, everybody having his say. The assembly was becoming calmer, perhaps because it
was past lunchtime, until I was able to wind up the meeting and announce
that the University would reopen on the following Monday and classes resume.
Peace returned to the University, the Commune disbanded, and lecturers,
students, and administrative and service staff resumed their normal activities.
I continued to exercise the functions of Acting Chancellor from my Vicechancellor’s office. I had no intention of occupying the Chancellor's office,
neither the old one nor the newly built, bunker-like room in the recently
constructed central headquarters in the centre of the city. As there was no way
that Chancellor Bethencourt would return from Madrid, my position of academic authority was consolidated, and the Governing Council ratified my
appointment without the ministry taking any steps to prevent it. It was a
strange situation: the Chancellor having fled, the ministry accepted his selfimposed exile as a consummated fact and began to treat me as Acting
Chancellor. This situation prevailed until June 1980 when the Chancellor was
finally democratically elected. While all this was going on, Professor
9 The Reluctant Chancellor (1976–1980)