Radios never go silent: the day Spain clung to the airwaves

On 28 April 2025, a major power outage struck the Iberian Peninsula, affecting Spain, Portugal, Andorra and parts of south-west France. Within minutes, screens went dark, networks failed and cities ground to a halt. During this unprecedented blackout, Spain rediscovered a simple truth the digital age had almost allowed it to forget: when everything else stops, radios carry on broadcasting. This is the account of a day when a medium everyone thought was obscure became vital once again.

The morning of 28 April 2025 had begun quietly enough in Madrid for the staff at Cadena SER,Spain's leading radio station. The main items on the agenda were preparations for the conclave that would elect Pope Leo XIV following the death of Pope Francis, along with a few other major stories. There was no indication that, in just a few minutes, radio stations would become the most vital media outlets in the country.

At 12:33 p.m., lights in the newsroom began to flicker. Journalists' screens suddenly went blank. At first, everyone assumed there had been a power cut in the building. But when the power failed a second time, messages began to pour in: there was a widespread blackout. All of Spain - soon to be joined by Portugal - was plunged into darkness.

At 12:45 p.m., Cadena SER announced on Xthat a mass power outage had taken place. The team mobilised immediately. As mobile networks gradually ceased to function, an extraordinary day began. In the newsroom, the more seasoned staff suddenly remembered the mochilas("backpacks"), the radio transmission equipment that was used to link reporters to studios before the digital age.

These backpacks, which had been tidied away in cupboards for years, were brought back into service. The first reporters left the newsroom and made their way down to Gran Vía, a busy street in the heart of Madrid. Technicians activated a wireless radio broadcast system, like the ones used at the turn of the century.

Journalists steadily flocked to the station, some on their way to their shifts, others spurred on by the sense that something exceptional was taking place. In the early hours, the possibility of a cyberattack was discussed. "I was on my motorbike heading to the station and realised something serious was happening when all the traffic lights stopped working. Unprecedented chaos set in," recalls Rafa Panadero, deputy editor of the station's afternoon programme "La Ventana" and former head of international coverage.

While cafeteria staff went out to negotiate the purchase of bananas - 70 cents each - in a shop with neither electronic scales nor payment terminals, technicians put the radio station into energy-saving mode: air conditioning was turned off, the main studio was deactivated and computers were shut down. Everything was done to keep the generators going as long as possible.In Barcelona, where the blackout was total, the station's loudspeakers broadcast programmes into the street. Citizens gathered spontaneously to listen to the news.

The first official statements referred to a break in the electrical system and ruled out a cyberattack, without specifying the cause. "We did not speculate. We exercised the utmost caution and only dealt with official information. Without the internet, there was no fake news," journalist Àngels Barceló explained in a documentary devoted to that day.

This return to the past was not confined to the newsroom alone. In streets all over Spain, elderly people proudly brought out their battery-powered transistors. From balconies, information was shared between neighbours and strangers alike. In bazaars and small shops, batteries and portable radios quickly sold out.

"I remember a car stopped in the middle of the road, doors open, the radio at full volume. People had gathered around it to listen to SER. It was one of many moments of pride that day," Rafa Panadero later told RSF.

As night fell, a new challenge emerged: if the outage continued, fuel would be needed to keep the generators running. Technicians visited petrol stations - almost all of them out of service - until they finally found diesel. They then carried jerrycans on foot up to the roof of the building, above the eighth floor where the newsroom is located.

In the evening, Aimar Bretos, presenter of Hora 25, began announcing the first pieces of good news: certain cities and districts were regaining electricity. Applause broke out in the streets, where neighbours spoke, danced, played and listened to the radio together.

Throughout the day, Spanish television channels had continued broadcasting, but the vast majority of Spaniards were unable to watch the programmes. At 11:30 p.m., the lights finally returned to the studios of Cadena SER.

On that day, which so starkly reminded society of the vulnerability of a hyperconnected world, radio brought people out of isolation. It brought information, reassurance and companionship in the midst of uncertainty.

"We are always proud of this medium, capable of overcoming every obstacle, but that day the sense of having fully accomplished our public service mission was immense," emphasised Rafa Panadero.

Since 28 April 2025, many young Spaniards have kept a battery-powered transistor at home - something they would never have imagined buying. They remember the day when an entire country anxiously sought out the radio - and found it.

For radios never go silent. They are always there.

Edith Rodríguez Cachera, Journalist and Vice-President of RSF Spain

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