Spain's Elite Choose Civil Service Over Private Sector

Spain's elite also takes civil service exams: The State as a refuge

Why do children of Spain's upper class end up as *abogados del Estado* (State Attorneys) instead of starting businesses? This question reflects an old diagnosis: in Spain, prestige and security come from public salaries, not the market. While France’s Bonaparte family manages investment funds and Western elites focus on the private sector, Spanish families with lineage and luxury boxes pursue civil service exams. A prominent example is José Luis Martínez-Almeida, a State Attorney from an upper-class family close to the Crown; his sister works for the European Union. He is not an exception.

From Pablo Isla to Macarena Olona: The pattern repeats

Among Ibex 35 executives, there is a significant number of former senior civil servants. Inditex’s former chairman, Pablo Isla, was a State Attorney. Macarena Olona, from a wealthy family related to the Puyols, also served in this corps before entering politics. The prevailing thesis is that the State is not a last resort for the unemployed, but the first option for those with established wealth seeking power, connections, and a stable life.

One case best illustrates this logic. A businessman owning a company listed on the continuous market—not yet in the Ibex—has three daughters: the eldest is a civil servant, the second will join a state monopoly, and only the third will work in the family business. A multinational owner prefers placing daughters in the public sector rather than in their own company. There must be a reason.

A dwarf private sector unable to compete

The most common diagnosis blames the productive fabric, not the elite. Spain represents a near-total failure of private companies to achieve scale or survive without public support. The result is small firms with low productivity, limited capital, and high required returns. Spanish capital flees competition, capital intensity, and long-term returns like water from oil. When the average entrepreneur wants a €100,000 car but can only afford it by paying effective hourly wages at €6, the whole country suffers.

Consequently, the line between public and private blurs. Outside the State, according to this view, remain only prey fed upon by the State. Large non-foreign companies live off public contracts and subsidies; the resilient small private sector concentrates on SMEs and freelancers, suffocated by taxes and regulation. The uncomfortable conclusion: if the only viable business is one dependent on public funds, the elite acts rationally by positioning itself where secure money exists.

Why do Spaniards prefer being civil servants?

Cultural explanation has a name: Hofstede’s dimensions theory ranks Spain as the world’s second-highest risk-averse country, behind Portugal. Translated: we prefer fixed positions over entrepreneurial vertigo. But this view is incomplete. For most of the country, dismissal after forty is a tragedy, and after fifty, a sentence to live on basic income for life. This does not happen in the UK, Germany, or Denmark. It is not shyness: the cost of error in Spain’s private sector is brutal.

Add to this stifling bureaucracy. Spain publishes around 900 laws and 960,000 pages of regulation annually; in 2016, central and regional governments approved 681 new norms and 895,820 pages of regulation. Starting a business here is fiscal and administrative hell, and those who can avoid it do.

Public service as a pillar of the nation-state

The root is historical. The Spanish Empire was an empire of civil servants: every enterprise needed permission and visas from officials. That inertia never fully broke. Industrialization arrived late, slowly, and directed first by foreigners then by the State, while universities trained civil servants because for decades the country consisted only of peasants and officials.

The result is a public administration with a distinctive antiestéticature: absolute irresponsibility and strong esprit de corps. It is nearly impossible to dismiss a civil servant, even incivil find accommodation. The position functions as a lifetime pension in exchange for initial effort, a deal rarely so generous elsewhere.

Rentiers who take exams for entertainment

The missing piece fits here: the upper class doesn’t need public salary, they need status. Wealthy Spaniards live off rental income, buy more properties, and maintain themselves with the €6,000 salary of a prosecutor or judge. Being a State Attorney is a way to stay busy, socialize with peers, and marry within their class. No wasting time on scholarships, internships, and invented master’s degrees to keep the masses hooked: long exam preparation from youth, with backs covered, leaving free time to manage family assets.

Nobility also faced hardships. During the seventies, eighties, and nineties, many titles lived with tenants paying seven thousand pesetas monthly on Serrano Street, and restaurants covering rent with one day’s revenue. The real estate bubble revived them: much peri-urban land developed was theirs. For these people, putting children through civil service exams ensured decent income while inheritance issues were resolved.

Result: An elite that doesn’t create companies

The consequence is a country where prestige comes from placement, not creation. If work isn’t valued, work loses status, and capital income is taxed less than labor income. The message is clear: financial maneuvering pays off more than entrepreneurship. Meanwhile, average civil servants earn increasingly more than private workers, as wage cuts have always affected labor statutes, never public service statutes.

With these foundations, Spain’s elite chooses civil service not out of vocation, but calculation. Those choosing between agonizing startups and immovable posts choose the post. And those who don’t understand should ask the three daughters of the listed company owner.