The Seven Sins of... Antonio Elorza: "Sánchez is a case of political narcissism. He is driven by arrogance."

Antonio Elorza , historian and essayist, professor of Political Science at the Complutense University of Madrid, has just published his new book, "Pedro Sánchez o la pasión por sí mismo" (Ediciones B). And since we're talking about passions here, and therefore sins, we can't think of a better excuse to talk to him.

–I forgive you for a capital sin.

–Well, I think my cardinal sin would be lust.

–Like Ábalos?

–Well, given your experience, it seems so. But I'm in favor of lust practiced with consent. That's a wonderful thing that shouldn't even be a sin. But I'm not at all in favor of lust practiced in a commercial manner, which involves the exploitation and humiliation of women.

–If Ábalos's deadly sin is lust, and Cerdán's is greed… what would Sánchez's deadly sin be?

–Sánchez's is a triad, with the consequence of a fourth, very important one that is always forgotten. It would be, in this order, arrogance, greed, and hatred. And the consequence is envy. It is, moreover, a very concrete, very visible, and very politically important envy: the deep envy he feels toward the King.

–Is that envy what drives you?

–No, no, not at all. What drives him is arrogance. It's his passion for himself, which is what I titled my book. Sánchez is a case of political narcissism that, in my opinion, would historically link with another man who led to a great catastrophe, such as the War of Independence. I'm referring to Manuel Godoy. Another man who, beyond his physical presence, combines cunning, a constant struggle for power, and the ability to destroy his enemies.

–Their capital sin, then, would be pride.

–Pride is the great sin that drives everything, because it has to assert itself. It's a constant struggle for its assertion. It reminds me, above all, of Benito Mussolini. The key to both of them lies precisely in pride: in the desire for power, the desire for domination. It's so present in their lives that they don't need ideas or goals. They only answer to themselves. And this leads to two direct consequences of this self-exaltation: lying and a visceral opposition to justice.

-And so?

–Well, because he has to prove at every moment of his life that he's right, that he's the good guy in the movie (in Western terms), and that everyone else is evil. And if he has to lie to achieve that, then he lies. It's not even that he lies; it's that he's permanently entrenched in lies.

–And the opposition to justice?

–I think Pablo Iglesias injects it into himself when he encounters the problem with the judge investigating the March 8th case. From then on, it's clear that it's his ego that's compromised, partly due to arrogance and I don't know if it's due to something else, every time a judge carries out a normal procedure that, obviously, being about corruption, affects him closely.

–However, he is able to say, without flinching, that he defends justice and collaborates with it.

–In Sánchez's case, he's not just Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, separately. He's both, together, and at the same time: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, permanently managing both as it suits him.

–We could say that it does not free us from any sin.

–Well, from gluttony before five, which seems to be the time at which he wakes up.