Condemned to uncertainty

Some say this has been the most important political week since the 2023 general elections. It's possible. It has certainly been the toughest, the most contentious, the most ideologically charged, and what seemed impossible: the most personal. The polarization, the shouting, and the level of insults and insults are so high that a novelist could write that the only thing missing is a crime.

But it's not about giving ideas either. It's about analyzing what's happening in Spanish life, and what emerges is a familiar picture like this: the latest known or investigated episodes of corruption were understood by the political class and by public opinion as a stain falling on the nation's government like a tombstone; the right understood this crisis as an opportunity for the assault on La Moncloa, for which it yearns; the Socialist Party felt legitimately attacked, so it responded with equal or greater aggressiveness, but also with clear signs of division, which increased the clamor for unity and the angry reaction against critics like García Page; and, finally, the parties supporting Sánchez entered a period of doubt about the continued support of him.

Sánchez's partners will soon begin to think about the best time to break up.

With that palisade marking the horizon, the first chapter of the contest was the Popular Party Congress, which seemed to write the anthem of victory with a refrain sung by the enthusiastic members of the assembly: "Surrender, Pedro Sánchez." And its leader, Alberto Núñez Feijóo, supported by more than 99 percent of the vote—"à la Búlgara," we used to say years ago—delivered the best speech of his life. This episode deserves a commentary.

Faced with a PSOE humiliated by almost the entire press, the PP and its top leader demonstrated overwhelming euphoria. Faced with a sad Sánchez—"touched," he once said—Feijóo reaffirmed his leadership beyond dispute. And faced with the lack of an exciting offer to the electorate, to the point that it was written that "this PP is scary," Feijóo renewed his message, gathered all the complaints and demands of Spanish society, recalled messages from Suárez, proclaimed his centrality, and a week later, it can be said that he had finally crafted the discourse of the democratic right. He lacked specifics, and I think the most delicate aspect is that he has a more conservative social base than he does, because what received the most applause was his rejection of agreements with Bildu and the reference to immigration. The latter frightens moderate voters and facilitates Sánchez's strategy of preaching the "far-right coalition," something he repeats every time he has a microphone in front of him. But the right already has a discourse.

Sánchez's case is the second chapter of this heated week. If the socialist crisis is a corruption crisis, Sánchez could do nothing but put out the fire. First, he circumscribed it, as firefighters do; then, he limited it to a couple of errors or deceptions, as politicians do; then, he cooled the embers with the almost holy water of fifteen miraculous Spanish and imported measures, in the hope that, at least, they wouldn't contradict each other, which wouldn't be surprising either; and, finally, he demonstrated his mastery in applying old principles like "he who loves danger, perishes in it." Since the clearest danger these days was losing the vote of confidence that friends and adversaries were demanding, he performed the ultimate miracle of Sánchezism: not presenting it. Or better yet: a vote of confidence without a vote! It will go down in the history of parliamentarism.

And what's the situation like now? Uncertain, and therefore intriguing. I spoke earlier about his entry into a period of doubt, and I explain why: because Sánchez's partners will soon begin to think about the best time to break away, because they won't want to go to the polls marked by the image of the PSOE they are currently so critical of, as Page fears will happen in the autonomous regions. That could prevent Sánchez from achieving his dream of reaching 2027.

And uncertain too, if you look to the right. Santiago Carrillo often invoked the lyrics of a zarzuela: "Neither with you nor without you can my sorrows be cured; with you, because you kill me, and without you, because I die." I suspect I share the same diagnosis as Núñez Feijoo, who remains a good analyst. And I fear it's currently the favorite music of Santiago Abascal and the great beneficiary of Vox's growth, named Pedro Sánchez Pérez-Castejón.