Spain’s Congress has declassified a collection of documents related to the attempted coup of 23 February 1981, known as the 23-F, in a move that paradoxically reveals little that is truly new but revives national reflection on a pivotal moment in the country’s democratic history. According to reporting accessed by EL PAÍS, the parliamentary archive has released around twenty files that were still formally classified as secret, despite the fact that their contents had already been widely published by the press in previous decades. The decision follows a broader government agreement published in the Official State Gazette earlier this year to declassify all remaining restricted materials held across several ministries connected to the failed military uprising.
The newly accessible documents include an extensive range of administrative, judicial, and security records that reconstruct the chaotic hours when armed Civil Guard officers stormed the Congress of Deputies. Among them is the official transcript of a secret parliamentary session held just 24 days after the coup attempt, as well as internal reports from parliamentary secretaries, handwritten notes from officials trapped inside the chamber, and detailed logistical accounts of the consumption of food, drink, and tobacco during the long hours of the siege. While much of this material has been known through prior journalistic and historical accounts, its formal release serves as a symbolic closure of one of Spain’s most sensitive democratic episodes.
The coup itself unfolded on 23 February 1981 when Lieutenant Colonel Antonio Tejero entered the Congress armed and took lawmakers hostage, attempting to force a political reversal during Spain’s fragile transition to democracy. The documents highlight how, in the weeks that followed, the parliamentary leadership decided to hold an extraordinary closed-door plenary session on 17 March 1981. As EL PAÍS reports, the session began in the late afternoon and was conducted in total secrecy, excluding journalists and television cameras, a decision that sparked intense criticism at the time. The meeting was convened to receive a detailed briefing from then-Defense Minister Alberto Oliart, who presented a structured account of the events leading up to and during the coup attempt.
The now-declassified transcript of that secret session spans more than sixty pages and includes Oliart’s chronological reconstruction of military movements, communications between key officers, and the involvement of high-ranking figures such as General Alfonso Armada and Lieutenant General Jaime Milans del Bosch. It also records brief interventions from parliamentary group leaders, including then-opposition leader Felipe González, who demanded clarifications about the unfolding crisis. According to EL PAÍS, the session itself lasted just over an hour, but its political significance far exceeded its duration, marking one of the earliest institutional efforts to publicly process the trauma of the coup attempt.
Additional materials shed light on how the parliamentary leadership and staff experienced the occupation from inside the building. Notes from members of the parliamentary secretariat describe a tense and unpredictable environment, including fears of gunfire, concerns about potential fires if wooden structures were ignited, and uncertainty over power cuts. The documents also capture extraordinary human moments, such as political figures reacting emotionally under pressure, including incidents involving senior politicians such as Manuel Fraga, who reportedly challenged the attackers during the standoff, as well as cultural references like deputies attempting to read literature to pass the time while held inside the chamber.
One of the more unusual elements in the archive, highlighted in EL PAÍS coverage, is a detailed inventory of what the coup participants consumed while occupying the parliamentary facilities. Compiled by congressional administrative staff days after the event, the report includes precise figures for food, beverages, and tobacco consumed in the cafeteria and bars during the siege. The records show expenditures in Spanish pesetas converted into euros in later analyses, listing large quantities of whiskey, soft drinks, sparkling wine, and snacks such as canned tuna and asparagus. The documents also note modest amounts left in tips, illustrating the surreal normality of consumption within an otherwise extraordinary political crisis.
Another section of the archive focuses on the physical damage sustained during the assault. Engineers and parliamentary staff documented bullet impacts across the hemicycle, with 37 shots fired in total and 14 clearly identified in the chamber’s ceiling. The estimated repair costs, recorded months after the event, amounted to over one million pesetas at the time, a figure that underscores the material consequences of the attack beyond its political shockwaves. Photographs and diagrams included in the files continue to attract public interest during guided visits to the Congress building, where the bullet marks remain visible as historical evidence of the attempted overthrow.
Security-related documents provide further insight into how the parliamentary police and Civil Guard units responded during the crisis. Internal reports describe initial confusion among officers stationed outside the building, with limited manpower and rapidly escalating pressure as armed assailants took control of key areas inside. According to notes cited by EL PAÍS, security forces were quickly disarmed and overwhelmed due to the numerical superiority and coordination of the attackers. Despite some isolated attempts to resist or assess the situation, the documents conclude that control of the building was established within minutes, with weapons held in firing positions throughout the occupation.
Historians and political parties, including the Basque Nationalist Party (PNV), had long demanded the full declassification of remaining 23-F materials, arguing that transparency was essential for historical accountability. The current release, while largely symbolic, represents the final administrative step in opening parliamentary archives connected to the coup attempt. However, as EL PAÍS notes, much of the content does not significantly alter established historical narratives, since the core facts of the conspiracy, military coordination, and political response have been extensively documented over the past four decades.
Nevertheless, the release serves as a reminder of the fragility of Spain’s democratic transition in the early 1980s, when institutions were still consolidating authority after decades of dictatorship. The documents highlight not only the military dimension of the coup but also the improvisational nature of the state’s response, the uncertainty within government institutions, and the human experience of those trapped inside the parliamentary chamber. More than four decades later, the 23-F remains a defining reference point in Spain’s modern political identity, and its archival reopening continues to resonate as both historical documentation and democratic reaffirmation.
