Members of the Balearic parliament last week became political prisoners, if only because they had attached small posters to the lids of their laptops in order to disguise which of them have got the latest and most expensive Mac PowerBook. These members were declaring their support for the Jordis, brothers in quasi-revolutionary arms who are currently banged up somewhere in Catalonia. Liberty for the Jordis read the posters displayed on the laptops.
Staring earnestly at the laptop screens were, quite naturally, the brother and sisterhood of Més and Podemos. PSOE, ostensibly partners in government, eschewed the opportunity to join in and become political prisoners. In fact, PSOE members of parliament don't tend to bother looking at laptops at all. Maybe they have more important things to do, like being parliamentarians. I mean, what do the likes of Més wild man David Abril find of such interest on a laptop? The Euromillions numbers?
If you've never taken the time to peer into a local estate agents, I recommend that you do. You will then appreciate how similar estate agents are to members of Més and Podemos. There they all are, eagerly ogling a computer screen. Well, I suppose if you're hunting for the commission on the sale of a five million euro gaff in Puerto Andratx, then you would do. That's the estate agents, by the way; not members of Més or Podemos (or maybe that's what they're doing in parliament as well).
Given that we learned once more last week that seven-figure properties are flying off the shelves (or rather the computer screens) but that local authorities can't find it within their generosity to make land available for affordable housing, perhaps the laptop-obsessed parliamentarians should display solidarity with those closer to home: Jordis plus families in Mallorca living in semi-penury and unable to find somewhere decent to live because all the property which isn't being flogged for seven figures had been snapped up and thrown up on Airbnb (before the government came along and put a stop to that - and rightly so).
Not, it has to be said, that this would go down at all well with the estate agents. A two hundred grand hovel in Inca? Not worth my while getting out of bed, mate.
But no, the parliamentarians - some of them - insist on campaigning for the Jordis and raising motions demanding that the Supreme Court immediately orders their release. Personally, I don't disagree - the Jordis and the others shouldn't be in prison - it's just that one feels these dear elected officials should be spending their time and taxpayer money in pursuit of more meaningful matters.
Someone asked me the other day if we are all led to believe that island politicians make themselves out to be a lot more important than they really are. The answer to which was unquestionably yes. Some are undoubtedly worthy and do worthy things, but how many are basically just nits who consider it worthwhile to waste parliament time on motions for which the parliament does not in any event have any say? (Separation of powers and all that; a regional parliament has no authority whatsoever to tell the Supreme Court what it should or shouldn't do.)
And how many of these nits have been thrust into a political spotlight courtesy of a small percentage share of the vote and now wish to foist Catalonia Mark II onto a populace that would rather slit its collective wrist than ever be under the control of Barcelona and find itself part of the mythical Catalan Lands?
Excluded, it must be stressed, from the ranks of the nit is our favourite president (aka speaker) of the Balearic parliament. Balti celebrated his first year as president last week, and he said that people may feel as though they can identify more with him than with someone who wears a suit and a tie.
If one looks like a one-time bass guitarist with The Allman Brothers Band, favours a pair of Converse and drives a clapped-out Renault Twingo, then one probably does identify with Balti. But this is a disparagement. Balti's image may be somewhat unconventional, but he believes - and he's probably right to believe - that he's doing a decent enough job. And why shouldn't he?
He spoke last week about his first year, suggesting that people have got used to him now. More important was how sincere he sounded. Unlike some who are on-message with all the consensus and citizens guff, when he said that his motivation is to help the citizens, you were left under no illusion that he really meant it. There's a humility with the bloke that is endearing. And it's not as though he's actually coining it in. He earns 3,400 euros a month, and 800 of that is handed over to Podemos.
"I know why I took this step (to become speaker). I know we must be very clear in not falling into any temptation." Amen. Balti? Why not Balti? Think who has occupied the speaker's chair in the past. One of them will be looking at the inside of a prison cell for at least seven more years. And no, she is not a political prisoner.
Showing posts with label Balearic parliament. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Balearic parliament. Show all posts
Sunday, February 25, 2018
Sunday, October 15, 2017
Absolutely Fabulous: Parliamentary Fashion
The new Balti look was given an airing at the do for the Guardia Civil on Wednesday evening, when the atmosphere was so frosty between Sweet and Friendly Francina and the Witch of Salom that they should have all been togged up in scarves and mittens. The reason for this, what with Maria looking straight at Francina when accusing the government of undermining national identity, had something to do with a bit of a carry-on in Catalonia, whatever that was all about.
Balti wasn't alone in mystifying or intriguing keen political fashion observers. Earlier in the week there was a line-up of various parliamentarians who had gathered for a photo opp to publicise a highly worthy initiative, which is that next year will be the year of mental health in the Balearics. One stresses that this is a most laudable idea, but what sort of statements were some of our dear parliamentarians making in order to honour it? I mean, why was Marga Prohens dressed in some kind of Baby Doll frock and looking as though she was sweet sixteen? The contrast with the Podemos Boot Girl, Laura Camargo, couldn't have been greater. Laura was in a power black dress. She might have failed in her bid to become the Podemos Coordinator, but she was leaving the victor - Granny Mae - in no doubt as to who still wears the trousers, the boots and the black dress around Podemos. She has, after all, spent the past couple of years letting Alberto Jarabo know this.
But there was more. The Earth Mother, Patricia Gómez, had traded in the kaftan for a full-length black gown and white jacket. The health ministry must have been having a cocktail party to celebrate having reduced consultant waiting times by 0.47% this month. It was hard to think what other explanation there could possibly have been.
And then, ah yes then, there was Xe-Lo. Removed from the public eye for some months since having been dispatched to the Valley of the Fallen behind the PP in the parliament arena, Balti's predecessor was clearly determined to make a real statement and to confirm one's suspicions that she had indeed spent much of her time as parliament president developing the Xe-Lo range for the fuller feminist.
What a statement it was too. Black t-shirt on which was emblazoned in a sparkly silver on two rows - FABU LOUS. Well, you go for it, girlfriend. It must indeed be absolutely fabulous to still be picking up the parliamentary pay cheque, despite having been banished by Podemos. But while we're at it, what actually was it with the use of English? Does the government's linguistic "normalisation" police know about this? Maybe there should in fact be a government fashion normalisation department. No, forget that, they might actually think it's a good idea and put Balti in charge.
* Photo comes from the Partido Popular.
Sunday, June 04, 2017
Montse On A Sofa
Bear with me a moment, I have a story from university days. It concerns a friend who spent a good part of an entire academic year living in an office. This was the college junior common room's office (JCR, for those of you unfamiliar with such things, being the student organisation). The office was nicknamed the Witch office, after the college student magazine that ultimately folded under the weight of potential libel and obscenity charges.
When one says that this friend lived in the office, he only slept there. Facilities, such as showers, kitchen, what have you, were readily available in friends' halls of residence corridors; mine, normally. There was rarely any issue with his using the office. Security, such as it was, fell to the college porters, who would not make a habit of entering the office. Until Old Frank did. He was a dear chap with a Blackburn accent, of whom the student body was very fond, unlike another of the porters - Young Frank (though young was relative). Old Frank once stumbled into the office and very swiftly stumbled out again. He was later to be found wandering along corridors, muttering to anyone who came in earshot: " 'Ave you 'eard abaht shaggin' in t'Witch office?" By which time, we most certainly had.
The reason for the friend utilising the office was pretty simple. Money. Despite being on a full grant (there were such things then), there were greater priorities to living than paying for books or, more importantly, rent.
This anecdote serves as an introduction to what has been occurring in the Balearic parliament. The Old Franks of parliament security were alerted recently to noises on the third floor of the building. This was in the early hours of the morning. They considered calling the police but decided to investigate for themselves. The room on the third floor is the one available as a rest area for parliamentary deputies. It has, among other things, showers, a telly and sofas. The Old Franks entered and who should they find but Montse Seijas. One should point out that noises were not of the Witch office nature. Montse was there on her own, bedded down on a sofa. But naturally enough the Old Franks sought out Balti the next day. " 'Ave you 'eard abaht Montse in t' office?"
The president of parliament, the equivalent of a college bursar, thus informed the Old Franks that after eleven at night there can be no one in the parliament's offices. And there most certainly cannot be anyone sleeping in them. Called to explain herself, Montse said that she often worked late and had availed herself of parliament accommodation on four or five occasions.
Now, the thing with Montse is that is she's from Minorca (actually, she's from Galicia, but that's another matter). She was a Podemos deputy for Minorca before Podemos threw her out of the party. The Minorca connection entitles her to a 90 euros a night allowance. Given this, some people put two and two together. Or thought they did. Montse has flatly denied trousering the 90 euros and sleeping in parliament for free. She couldn't, she said, keep on imposing herself on friends, she doesn't have a car and she had been unable to find a hotel. "It's very difficult to find one in the centre of Palma," she complained.
And let's be honest, she has a point. A report last week suggesting that one can hand over up to 500 euros a night for a Palma hotel room makes the 90 euros allowance seem distinctly miserly. What could one get for 90 euros anyway? It occurs to me that she might have booked something through Airbnb, but as a good Podemos deputy, or rather ex-Podemos, that would never do (unless you're Alberto Jarabo).
Balti's command was followed to the letter. The Old Franks came across Montse on another occasion. It was half eleven. You'll have to leave, they told her. Where did she go? She hasn't said. But it could be that she was forced to blow the equivalent of several nights' allowance on one night in a Palma boutique hotel. Wherever it was she went, she has had harsh words for her one-time comrade in Podemos, Balti. His decision to ensure that she is removed from the premises by eleven o'clock is all down to an obsession that Balti and Podemos have with her.
Oh well, it was good while it lasted, one supposes. And at least Montse had a sofa. The friend at university made do with the floor.
When one says that this friend lived in the office, he only slept there. Facilities, such as showers, kitchen, what have you, were readily available in friends' halls of residence corridors; mine, normally. There was rarely any issue with his using the office. Security, such as it was, fell to the college porters, who would not make a habit of entering the office. Until Old Frank did. He was a dear chap with a Blackburn accent, of whom the student body was very fond, unlike another of the porters - Young Frank (though young was relative). Old Frank once stumbled into the office and very swiftly stumbled out again. He was later to be found wandering along corridors, muttering to anyone who came in earshot: " 'Ave you 'eard abaht shaggin' in t'Witch office?" By which time, we most certainly had.
The reason for the friend utilising the office was pretty simple. Money. Despite being on a full grant (there were such things then), there were greater priorities to living than paying for books or, more importantly, rent.
This anecdote serves as an introduction to what has been occurring in the Balearic parliament. The Old Franks of parliament security were alerted recently to noises on the third floor of the building. This was in the early hours of the morning. They considered calling the police but decided to investigate for themselves. The room on the third floor is the one available as a rest area for parliamentary deputies. It has, among other things, showers, a telly and sofas. The Old Franks entered and who should they find but Montse Seijas. One should point out that noises were not of the Witch office nature. Montse was there on her own, bedded down on a sofa. But naturally enough the Old Franks sought out Balti the next day. " 'Ave you 'eard abaht Montse in t' office?"
The president of parliament, the equivalent of a college bursar, thus informed the Old Franks that after eleven at night there can be no one in the parliament's offices. And there most certainly cannot be anyone sleeping in them. Called to explain herself, Montse said that she often worked late and had availed herself of parliament accommodation on four or five occasions.
Now, the thing with Montse is that is she's from Minorca (actually, she's from Galicia, but that's another matter). She was a Podemos deputy for Minorca before Podemos threw her out of the party. The Minorca connection entitles her to a 90 euros a night allowance. Given this, some people put two and two together. Or thought they did. Montse has flatly denied trousering the 90 euros and sleeping in parliament for free. She couldn't, she said, keep on imposing herself on friends, she doesn't have a car and she had been unable to find a hotel. "It's very difficult to find one in the centre of Palma," she complained.
And let's be honest, she has a point. A report last week suggesting that one can hand over up to 500 euros a night for a Palma hotel room makes the 90 euros allowance seem distinctly miserly. What could one get for 90 euros anyway? It occurs to me that she might have booked something through Airbnb, but as a good Podemos deputy, or rather ex-Podemos, that would never do (unless you're Alberto Jarabo).
Balti's command was followed to the letter. The Old Franks came across Montse on another occasion. It was half eleven. You'll have to leave, they told her. Where did she go? She hasn't said. But it could be that she was forced to blow the equivalent of several nights' allowance on one night in a Palma boutique hotel. Wherever it was she went, she has had harsh words for her one-time comrade in Podemos, Balti. His decision to ensure that she is removed from the premises by eleven o'clock is all down to an obsession that Balti and Podemos have with her.
Oh well, it was good while it lasted, one supposes. And at least Montse had a sofa. The friend at university made do with the floor.
Sunday, May 21, 2017
Xe-Lo And Montse Denounce Parliament
The office of the president (aka speaker) of the Balearic parliament is - decor-wise - much in keeping with the interior of houses inhabited by ancient Mallorcans. There is, therefore, an enormous amount of wood. Wood panelling, wood flooring, crafted wooden chairs, wooden coffee table and a very wooden desk. The principal concession to modernity is the three-piece with silken yellowish finishing that matches the curtains and what small areas of the walls aren't wood. The other concession is the occupant of the office, Balti.
Given his former life as some form of metalworker, one might have anticipated Balti having performed a metallic refit; even a Metallica one. Out with wood, in with aluminium. Or, in a more traditional (Mallorcan) style, in with some bits of old wrought iron that had been rusting in a shed in Binissalem and which can now be restored by artisan apprentices on youth guarantee schemes, paid for by the vast surplus that parliament turns in, and held up as examples of economic diversification and as a means of tackling tourism seasonality. (All types of alternative employment, you may have noticed, address seasonality.)
Not so long ago, the Balearic government was said to be eyeing up the cash that is sitting in parliament's bank accounts. In other words, the government wanted it. Assuming that the accounts haven't been raided or that finance minister Catalina Cladera hasn't been banging on the glass-pane wooden door to the office and handing in a demand for several million euros, President Balti will have a bit spare to kit out some other offices.
As there are some offices - one, in particular - which need a makeover, surely Balti could get in his new (secondhand) Kangoo and nip down to Ikea for some furniture. He must also, you would think, know the odd artisan office renovation chappy who could be hired, albeit that the process for doing so - in order to prevent any accusations of favouring a mate - would entail a public tender (put out for thirty days of public consultation) and verification by the numerous Podemos citizen councils.
So, getting things done, as in getting new offices sorted out, probably does take some time. Might this, therefore, be the explanation for the discontent being shown by two members of parliament - two former members of Podemos members of parliament?
Xe-Lo, who not so long ago could rattle around the vast presidential suite, and her chum Montse are clearly getting ever more brassed off with their ostracisation. The two fully paid-up members of the Not-Podemos-But-Would-Still-Like-To-Be Party have taken considerable umbrage at the state of their office, if only they had one.
There is apparently a room available, but parliament technicians have told Xe-Lo and Montse that it is barely big enough to swing a cat (not that anyone from Podemos either present or past would do such a thing) let alone accommodate the substantial forms of both themselves (plus two lucky staff), a couple of tables, four chairs and a closet. These same technicians say that the room is not appropriate for working. This being the case and also that Xe-Lo and Montse are having to store vital documents in boxes, they've issued a denuncia against the parliament's board. Off it has gone to the employment ministry's work inspectorate, while they have also raised the matter with parliament's health and safety committee and the occupational hazard prevention officer.
This is clearly an outrage. Here we have a government which espouses dignified working conditions and yet two members of the house are presumably having to make do with sitting on a corridor floor. Obviously things have got so bad that they can't even just have a word in the shell-like of the employment minister, Iago Nicaragua (or whatever it is). He was himself, after all, once a work inspector.
Balti, meanwhile, appears not to have made any comment on this sorry state of affairs. In the spirit of being all-inclusive (in a citizens' style as opposed to a hotel), he must be able find space for Xe-Lo and Montse in his office. And with all that wood acting as soundproofing, no one would ever hear ... .
Given his former life as some form of metalworker, one might have anticipated Balti having performed a metallic refit; even a Metallica one. Out with wood, in with aluminium. Or, in a more traditional (Mallorcan) style, in with some bits of old wrought iron that had been rusting in a shed in Binissalem and which can now be restored by artisan apprentices on youth guarantee schemes, paid for by the vast surplus that parliament turns in, and held up as examples of economic diversification and as a means of tackling tourism seasonality. (All types of alternative employment, you may have noticed, address seasonality.)
Not so long ago, the Balearic government was said to be eyeing up the cash that is sitting in parliament's bank accounts. In other words, the government wanted it. Assuming that the accounts haven't been raided or that finance minister Catalina Cladera hasn't been banging on the glass-pane wooden door to the office and handing in a demand for several million euros, President Balti will have a bit spare to kit out some other offices.
As there are some offices - one, in particular - which need a makeover, surely Balti could get in his new (secondhand) Kangoo and nip down to Ikea for some furniture. He must also, you would think, know the odd artisan office renovation chappy who could be hired, albeit that the process for doing so - in order to prevent any accusations of favouring a mate - would entail a public tender (put out for thirty days of public consultation) and verification by the numerous Podemos citizen councils.
So, getting things done, as in getting new offices sorted out, probably does take some time. Might this, therefore, be the explanation for the discontent being shown by two members of parliament - two former members of Podemos members of parliament?
Xe-Lo, who not so long ago could rattle around the vast presidential suite, and her chum Montse are clearly getting ever more brassed off with their ostracisation. The two fully paid-up members of the Not-Podemos-But-Would-Still-Like-To-Be Party have taken considerable umbrage at the state of their office, if only they had one.
There is apparently a room available, but parliament technicians have told Xe-Lo and Montse that it is barely big enough to swing a cat (not that anyone from Podemos either present or past would do such a thing) let alone accommodate the substantial forms of both themselves (plus two lucky staff), a couple of tables, four chairs and a closet. These same technicians say that the room is not appropriate for working. This being the case and also that Xe-Lo and Montse are having to store vital documents in boxes, they've issued a denuncia against the parliament's board. Off it has gone to the employment ministry's work inspectorate, while they have also raised the matter with parliament's health and safety committee and the occupational hazard prevention officer.
This is clearly an outrage. Here we have a government which espouses dignified working conditions and yet two members of the house are presumably having to make do with sitting on a corridor floor. Obviously things have got so bad that they can't even just have a word in the shell-like of the employment minister, Iago Nicaragua (or whatever it is). He was himself, after all, once a work inspector.
Balti, meanwhile, appears not to have made any comment on this sorry state of affairs. In the spirit of being all-inclusive (in a citizens' style as opposed to a hotel), he must be able find space for Xe-Lo and Montse in his office. And with all that wood acting as soundproofing, no one would ever hear ... .
Sunday, March 19, 2017
Balti's Little Red Book
It may well have been the first time that each parliamentarian reached for his or her Little (Reddish) Book. Obligatory reading it quite possibly is, but who ever complies with such obligation? They will from now on, rather in the way that Dylan Hartley promised to make the rules of rugby his bedside companion following the Italian (First Half) Job.
The whole episode stirred memories of the students' union past. Back in the day, Mao's Little Red Book was mandatory for all of a Maoist persuasion and even some who were not. The book would ostentatiously be laid on a junior common room bar table, while its owner ferreted for some scarce loose change with which to pay for a pint of Maoist Mitchell's bitter.
There was another book, one reserved only for the wise elders of the students' union. This was the constitution book. It itemised rules that had to be obeyed or conveniently ignored. Into the latter category fell "ultra vires" payments, an arcane matter that was nevertheless hauled out at every meeting. Could the Iranian 91 (or numerous alternatives) receive union funds or not? Very few students, bar the elders, gave a toss whether they could or couldn't.
Far greater observance was paid to the holding of meetings. Rules were there to be adhered to in order that Marxist-Leninists, Trotskyists, Maoists and other-ists were given their due time to apply and spout ideological thinking to the price of meat and two veg in the university refectories. The point having been, you see, that those of solidly left-wing convictions did things by the book (when it suited them).
Thus it was with Balti the other day. Rules contained in parliament's Little (Reddish) Book, which no one other than Balti had obviously read, permit the speaker to eject the citizens and the media if a matter affecting parliament's "decorum" is to be debated. The decorum in this instance had to do with the PP's Álvaro Gijón. Fellow Podemosites - Jarabo and The Boot Girl - had set up the chance to give Gijón a good booting. It wasn't to be in public, decreed Balti. The book says no.
Parties were unanimous in criticising Balti's observance of the letter of the rules. Those to the right were less willing to forgive. Balti had acted with "authoritarianism". He was "incompetent". Such reaction was entirely to have been expected. The opposition hadn't wanted Balti to succeed Xe-Lo Huertas. His qualification for the position was being drawn into question, as it had been prior to his election. What can a metalbasher, or whatever he was in a former life, know about parliamentary protocol? And one, moreover, who looks as if he still inhabits student unions circa the mid-1970s. Well, a great deal more than those whose qualifications for parliamentary life normally involve their having been lawyers, geographers or pharmacists, especially the latter. Or so it appeared.
Further criticism suggested that rather than parliament being open to the citizens in a participative, Podemos manner, it was being closed. We were thus to presume that Podemos say one thing and do the precise opposite. Which was nonsense. Balti was merely maintaining a tradition of hard-leftist application of rules, though he says he wouldn't do it in quite the same way the next time.
Frankly, it was a fuss about very little. And perhaps Balti had done the legal process and the odd parliamentarian a favour. A public airing of thoughts about Gijón might be less than wise, given that he has been implicated in various corruption allegations. He has also hinted that he is not above seeing in court anyone who voices allegations. Balti did right. Or was it left? Or was it neither?
The whole episode stirred memories of the students' union past. Back in the day, Mao's Little Red Book was mandatory for all of a Maoist persuasion and even some who were not. The book would ostentatiously be laid on a junior common room bar table, while its owner ferreted for some scarce loose change with which to pay for a pint of Maoist Mitchell's bitter.
There was another book, one reserved only for the wise elders of the students' union. This was the constitution book. It itemised rules that had to be obeyed or conveniently ignored. Into the latter category fell "ultra vires" payments, an arcane matter that was nevertheless hauled out at every meeting. Could the Iranian 91 (or numerous alternatives) receive union funds or not? Very few students, bar the elders, gave a toss whether they could or couldn't.
Far greater observance was paid to the holding of meetings. Rules were there to be adhered to in order that Marxist-Leninists, Trotskyists, Maoists and other-ists were given their due time to apply and spout ideological thinking to the price of meat and two veg in the university refectories. The point having been, you see, that those of solidly left-wing convictions did things by the book (when it suited them).
Thus it was with Balti the other day. Rules contained in parliament's Little (Reddish) Book, which no one other than Balti had obviously read, permit the speaker to eject the citizens and the media if a matter affecting parliament's "decorum" is to be debated. The decorum in this instance had to do with the PP's Álvaro Gijón. Fellow Podemosites - Jarabo and The Boot Girl - had set up the chance to give Gijón a good booting. It wasn't to be in public, decreed Balti. The book says no.
Parties were unanimous in criticising Balti's observance of the letter of the rules. Those to the right were less willing to forgive. Balti had acted with "authoritarianism". He was "incompetent". Such reaction was entirely to have been expected. The opposition hadn't wanted Balti to succeed Xe-Lo Huertas. His qualification for the position was being drawn into question, as it had been prior to his election. What can a metalbasher, or whatever he was in a former life, know about parliamentary protocol? And one, moreover, who looks as if he still inhabits student unions circa the mid-1970s. Well, a great deal more than those whose qualifications for parliamentary life normally involve their having been lawyers, geographers or pharmacists, especially the latter. Or so it appeared.
Further criticism suggested that rather than parliament being open to the citizens in a participative, Podemos manner, it was being closed. We were thus to presume that Podemos say one thing and do the precise opposite. Which was nonsense. Balti was merely maintaining a tradition of hard-leftist application of rules, though he says he wouldn't do it in quite the same way the next time.
Frankly, it was a fuss about very little. And perhaps Balti had done the legal process and the odd parliamentarian a favour. A public airing of thoughts about Gijón might be less than wise, given that he has been implicated in various corruption allegations. He has also hinted that he is not above seeing in court anyone who voices allegations. Balti did right. Or was it left? Or was it neither?
Sunday, March 05, 2017
Ties By Balti (Registered Trademark)
Goodness, there was a surprise. The purging of Xe-Lo Huertas had led us to believe that Balearic parliament speakers' fashion lines were a thing of the past. Xe-Lo had provided us with her adapted J-Lo range for the fuller feminist, only for it to be removed from all best alternative retail outlets when the purge totally undermined the Xe-Lo brand and required fleets of lorries to transport the remaining items to the recycling containers or the charity shops.
But no. Gone may be Xe-Lo but instead we now have Tie Rack as re-conceived by Balti. The range is as yet limited, which will come as no great surprise as Balti had said that he would be eschewing neckwear. This parliament president, as he also stated, has one foot on the streets - those streets where ties dare not speak their (brand) name. Despite this vow to remain tieless, Balti bowed to convention - the presentations for Balearics Day - by unveiling the new parliament speaker's spring fashion. And what a tie it was. Its purpleness was a suitably Podemos purple if somewhat purple-lite, a softer, more sympathetic purple, one that spoke to all the citizens, for indeed Balti is a representative of all citizens.
What really had the fashion critics reaching for their reviews was the adornment on the purple - whitish, silvery lines. Were these integral to the tie or had Balti left it outside to air at his Cas Concos commune and allowed the organic snails to wander all over it? Difficult to say, but the overall effect was striking. Balti is the very model of the modern parliamentary major general. Body-hugging sporty black shirt (not tucked in), black Levis and a pair of Converse sneakers. And that tie. He was appealing to the inner Deep Purple among all citizens, those of whom may wish to be Ritchie Blackmore or Jon Lord tribute artists.
Naturally enough, when it came to his speech, Balti called for consensus, thus echoing (parroting) the mantra that has come to characterise the current government. Dialogue was also there, as in "democracy is a system of balances that allows us to articulate dialogue without losing sight of the respect for the views and opinions of others". Some, i.e. Xavier Pericay of the C's, felt his discourse was unusually "institutional", i.e. parliamentary, presidential almost. For the most part it was greeted positively, even if Marga Prohens of the PP thought that it was "idealistic and decaffinated". Well, maybe Balti prefers decaff.
Marga, it has to be pointed out, had already opted for her spring fashion - a flowery frock affair, which didn't seem to play well with Francina, who was photographed next to a beaming Marga with a massive gob on. Francina's functional grey top looked rather lost amidst Marga's flowers and Balti's snail trails. And she knew it. There's nothing worse for a Balearic president than to be upstaged by a PP supermodel and a hippy with a weird tie.
Being kept from view all the while were Xe-Lo and her sister in arms, Montse Seijas, both of whom continue to be outraged by having been consigned to that part of parliament to the rear of the right, namely the PP. The land they occupy in parliament has now become known as the valley of the fallen, from where Xe-Lo can only look on and wonder what might have been as her successor branches out with his own website - tiesbybalti.com, or probably tiesbybalti.cat, as a dotcom would smack far too much of globalisation, and that would never do.
But no. Gone may be Xe-Lo but instead we now have Tie Rack as re-conceived by Balti. The range is as yet limited, which will come as no great surprise as Balti had said that he would be eschewing neckwear. This parliament president, as he also stated, has one foot on the streets - those streets where ties dare not speak their (brand) name. Despite this vow to remain tieless, Balti bowed to convention - the presentations for Balearics Day - by unveiling the new parliament speaker's spring fashion. And what a tie it was. Its purpleness was a suitably Podemos purple if somewhat purple-lite, a softer, more sympathetic purple, one that spoke to all the citizens, for indeed Balti is a representative of all citizens.
What really had the fashion critics reaching for their reviews was the adornment on the purple - whitish, silvery lines. Were these integral to the tie or had Balti left it outside to air at his Cas Concos commune and allowed the organic snails to wander all over it? Difficult to say, but the overall effect was striking. Balti is the very model of the modern parliamentary major general. Body-hugging sporty black shirt (not tucked in), black Levis and a pair of Converse sneakers. And that tie. He was appealing to the inner Deep Purple among all citizens, those of whom may wish to be Ritchie Blackmore or Jon Lord tribute artists.
Naturally enough, when it came to his speech, Balti called for consensus, thus echoing (parroting) the mantra that has come to characterise the current government. Dialogue was also there, as in "democracy is a system of balances that allows us to articulate dialogue without losing sight of the respect for the views and opinions of others". Some, i.e. Xavier Pericay of the C's, felt his discourse was unusually "institutional", i.e. parliamentary, presidential almost. For the most part it was greeted positively, even if Marga Prohens of the PP thought that it was "idealistic and decaffinated". Well, maybe Balti prefers decaff.
Marga, it has to be pointed out, had already opted for her spring fashion - a flowery frock affair, which didn't seem to play well with Francina, who was photographed next to a beaming Marga with a massive gob on. Francina's functional grey top looked rather lost amidst Marga's flowers and Balti's snail trails. And she knew it. There's nothing worse for a Balearic president than to be upstaged by a PP supermodel and a hippy with a weird tie.
Being kept from view all the while were Xe-Lo and her sister in arms, Montse Seijas, both of whom continue to be outraged by having been consigned to that part of parliament to the rear of the right, namely the PP. The land they occupy in parliament has now become known as the valley of the fallen, from where Xe-Lo can only look on and wonder what might have been as her successor branches out with his own website - tiesbybalti.com, or probably tiesbybalti.cat, as a dotcom would smack far too much of globalisation, and that would never do.
Sunday, February 12, 2017
The Balearic Parliament Show Goes On
Sweet and friendly Francina Armengol was apologising the other day for the "show" that has been the Balearic parliament. It's not the sort of display that the citizens - who else - deserve. Oh really? The citizens may not deserve it but, boy oh boy, have they been having a laugh. And things, as a political party elsewhere once maintained, can only get better, and we have Podemos to once more thank.
While many of the Podemos citizenry is away in Madrid or poised over the participation online voting button in deciding the fate of Pablo and The Infant Errejón, some of it has stayed at home in order to prepare for Tuesday's Great Show. Yes, Francina, the show must go on, and you're partly to blame (or to be thanked). Even if you don't understand a word of what's being said, I'd recommend a revision of normal daytime television viewing habits and tune into Tuesday's parliamentary session, during which Balti will ascend to the presidential (speaker's) throne.
It would be nice to think that this ritual could be performed with Balti clad in pure white robes and with angelic Jarabos and Camargos fluttering above him before anointing him with an artisan-crafted halo. "Truly he is the Son of Pablo," the angels would chant. Alas, this will not be. Balti, we can anticipate, will be sporting a checked sort of lumberjack affair and dodgy jeans. Besides which, any even vaguely religious connotation would be severely frowned upon, as much as any monarchist leanings would be, which Balti most certainly doesn't have.
Francina and chums have been asking (pleading) that when it comes to the moment for Balti to speak, he shows "restraint". They are more than slightly concerned about what he might come out with. This being just one of the reasons why they would have much preferred someone else to replace Xe-Lo Huertas. Will Balti take the opportunity to declare war on the Bourbons or some such?
Balti's elevation to the throne was assisted last week by a surprise guest appearance of none other than our good friend Alberto Rodríguez Rodríguez, aka Natty Dreadlock In A Babylon, the rasta Podemos Congress deputy from Tenerife. One had wondered when the two of them might team up, and prayers that they would do were fulfilled. Natty met Balti and there was a selfie (also containing the clean-cut Alberto Jarabo) in which Natty was sticking his tongue out. As you do.
While in the Babylon that is Palma, Natty was asked whether "a long hair" (Balti) and a rasta mark a change in political aesthetics. Appearance is not important, actions are, he explained. It's better that there is a speaker with long hair than one who looks to favour friends, he added. And one knew precisely to whom he was referring - Xe-Lo.
The former speaker was having her day in court. Not that she was in the dock, but rather she was making her case to be readmitted to Podemos. Among other justifications presented by her lawyer was the fact that she had her right to equality denied by being discriminated against in favour of Balti. This was because Balti had supposedly also supported the cause of Daniel Bachiller. It was the funding of his research laboratory which kicked off the whole Podemos crisis. The Podemos lawyer said the situation with Balti was different, so that was all right then.
While many of the Podemos citizenry is away in Madrid or poised over the participation online voting button in deciding the fate of Pablo and The Infant Errejón, some of it has stayed at home in order to prepare for Tuesday's Great Show. Yes, Francina, the show must go on, and you're partly to blame (or to be thanked). Even if you don't understand a word of what's being said, I'd recommend a revision of normal daytime television viewing habits and tune into Tuesday's parliamentary session, during which Balti will ascend to the presidential (speaker's) throne.
It would be nice to think that this ritual could be performed with Balti clad in pure white robes and with angelic Jarabos and Camargos fluttering above him before anointing him with an artisan-crafted halo. "Truly he is the Son of Pablo," the angels would chant. Alas, this will not be. Balti, we can anticipate, will be sporting a checked sort of lumberjack affair and dodgy jeans. Besides which, any even vaguely religious connotation would be severely frowned upon, as much as any monarchist leanings would be, which Balti most certainly doesn't have.
Francina and chums have been asking (pleading) that when it comes to the moment for Balti to speak, he shows "restraint". They are more than slightly concerned about what he might come out with. This being just one of the reasons why they would have much preferred someone else to replace Xe-Lo Huertas. Will Balti take the opportunity to declare war on the Bourbons or some such?
Balti's elevation to the throne was assisted last week by a surprise guest appearance of none other than our good friend Alberto Rodríguez Rodríguez, aka Natty Dreadlock In A Babylon, the rasta Podemos Congress deputy from Tenerife. One had wondered when the two of them might team up, and prayers that they would do were fulfilled. Natty met Balti and there was a selfie (also containing the clean-cut Alberto Jarabo) in which Natty was sticking his tongue out. As you do.
While in the Babylon that is Palma, Natty was asked whether "a long hair" (Balti) and a rasta mark a change in political aesthetics. Appearance is not important, actions are, he explained. It's better that there is a speaker with long hair than one who looks to favour friends, he added. And one knew precisely to whom he was referring - Xe-Lo.
The former speaker was having her day in court. Not that she was in the dock, but rather she was making her case to be readmitted to Podemos. Among other justifications presented by her lawyer was the fact that she had her right to equality denied by being discriminated against in favour of Balti. This was because Balti had supposedly also supported the cause of Daniel Bachiller. It was the funding of his research laboratory which kicked off the whole Podemos crisis. The Podemos lawyer said the situation with Balti was different, so that was all right then.
Thursday, February 09, 2017
Balti Eats Balti: Mr. Speaker
I have a photo opportunity suggestion for when the new president (speaker) of the Balearic parliament is finally sworn in. He should be whisked off to the nearest curry house, where hopefully they do more than tandoori, in order that the headline can read "Balti eats Balti".
It is just possible that Balti does eat Balti, though his Mallorcan authenticity might possibly preclude this. A hearty dish of organic frito is more likely to be Balti's favoured dish "de jour". Whatever it is, one trusts that it doesn't get stuck in his beard or hair when (if) parliament resumes for the post-lunch session. They have cameras trained on parliament speakers and the speaker, you should take note.
For reasons not entirely clear other than to procrastinate ever longer, Baltasar Picornell will not be sworn in as the new speaker of parliament until next week. It's all a bit like Joe Root taking over as England captain from Alastair Cook. Everyone knows this is going to happen, but process needs to be gone through, which is rather more necessary for electing a parliament speaker than it is an England cricket captain. (Though the social media obsessives would beg to differ; the ones who still hold a candle for Kevin Pietersen and for whom due process was not observed with Cook. The obsessives maintain that Cook sold KP out in order to keep his job.)
Apart from fairly obvious differences between Balti and Joe - appearance, sport, that sort of thing - the one major difference in terms of being lined up for promotion is that Balti only recently became the frontrunner. Podemos had insisted that he would be right for the job but their preference was for another woman to replace the excommunicated Xelo Huertas. Unfortunately, the woman they had in mind, Marta Maicas, has found herself needing to do some explaining to a court in respect of allegations that the digital signature of Montse Seijas was forged - Seijas being the other Podemos deputy to have been terminated. Consequently, it was becoming clear a month ago - because Podemos were saying so - that Balti was "gaining points" in the speaker bid.
But despite assuming pole position, Balti's elevation was far from secure. That was because the Podemos partners in the "agreements for change" - PSOE and Més - didn't want anything to do with him being speaker. They still don't, but their hands have been forced by the Podemos threat to break the agreements and therefore cease to be a "partner".
Having gone through the turmoil of the institutional crisis created by the Huertas affair, the two other partners were insisting that her replacement needed to be able to guarantee stability. In fact, there are still rumblings of this nature, but Balti is being foisted upon them and on parliament because Podemos were never going to give up the parliamentary presidency: it remains for now their most significant position in regional administrations anywhere in Spain.
Why might they be so concerned that Balti will not ensure stability? To answer this, one has to consider Huertas and how she was as speaker. The history books are rapidly being revised, but she was generally felt to have made a decent fist of the job. It is one that does require being evenhanded and also a certain amount of dignity. She may have lost this because of the affair, but even when she was meeting the King and insisting that he spend the money for the official reception on soup kitchens, she didn't come across as being extreme.
This, really, is part of the issue with Balti. Not that he has hippy hair and beard, not that he was a mere metalworker (or whatever it was), but rather that he comes from a background that is strident even by Podemos terms. His membership of the union for the Third Republic and the Balearic civic unit for a Republic should make his meeting with the King something to look forward to, assuming he doesn't boycott it.
Being a Republican, though, hardly sets him out as unusual among Podemos ranks. There has to be something a bit more to the reluctance of PSOE and Més to have not wished to sanction his election. And it may just boil down to the very simple belief that they don't think he's up to the job. Fina Santiago, who is the Més minister for social services, was outraged by the idea that he was being opposed because of his work background. She explained that she believed that there were individuals within Podemos who were better qualified, better suited. She also found it odd that Podemos were backtracking on their aim for the speaker to be a woman.
Such a principle went by the board. Laura Camargo ruled herself out, Maicas was being quizzed by a judge, so there was no other option than a man. Balti it was and Balti it is, unless by some bizarre twist of politicking, the PP's candidate Nuria Riera is elected. Were she to be, then the government's pact would be well and truly busted.
It is just possible that Balti does eat Balti, though his Mallorcan authenticity might possibly preclude this. A hearty dish of organic frito is more likely to be Balti's favoured dish "de jour". Whatever it is, one trusts that it doesn't get stuck in his beard or hair when (if) parliament resumes for the post-lunch session. They have cameras trained on parliament speakers and the speaker, you should take note.
For reasons not entirely clear other than to procrastinate ever longer, Baltasar Picornell will not be sworn in as the new speaker of parliament until next week. It's all a bit like Joe Root taking over as England captain from Alastair Cook. Everyone knows this is going to happen, but process needs to be gone through, which is rather more necessary for electing a parliament speaker than it is an England cricket captain. (Though the social media obsessives would beg to differ; the ones who still hold a candle for Kevin Pietersen and for whom due process was not observed with Cook. The obsessives maintain that Cook sold KP out in order to keep his job.)
Apart from fairly obvious differences between Balti and Joe - appearance, sport, that sort of thing - the one major difference in terms of being lined up for promotion is that Balti only recently became the frontrunner. Podemos had insisted that he would be right for the job but their preference was for another woman to replace the excommunicated Xelo Huertas. Unfortunately, the woman they had in mind, Marta Maicas, has found herself needing to do some explaining to a court in respect of allegations that the digital signature of Montse Seijas was forged - Seijas being the other Podemos deputy to have been terminated. Consequently, it was becoming clear a month ago - because Podemos were saying so - that Balti was "gaining points" in the speaker bid.
But despite assuming pole position, Balti's elevation was far from secure. That was because the Podemos partners in the "agreements for change" - PSOE and Més - didn't want anything to do with him being speaker. They still don't, but their hands have been forced by the Podemos threat to break the agreements and therefore cease to be a "partner".
Having gone through the turmoil of the institutional crisis created by the Huertas affair, the two other partners were insisting that her replacement needed to be able to guarantee stability. In fact, there are still rumblings of this nature, but Balti is being foisted upon them and on parliament because Podemos were never going to give up the parliamentary presidency: it remains for now their most significant position in regional administrations anywhere in Spain.
Why might they be so concerned that Balti will not ensure stability? To answer this, one has to consider Huertas and how she was as speaker. The history books are rapidly being revised, but she was generally felt to have made a decent fist of the job. It is one that does require being evenhanded and also a certain amount of dignity. She may have lost this because of the affair, but even when she was meeting the King and insisting that he spend the money for the official reception on soup kitchens, she didn't come across as being extreme.
This, really, is part of the issue with Balti. Not that he has hippy hair and beard, not that he was a mere metalworker (or whatever it was), but rather that he comes from a background that is strident even by Podemos terms. His membership of the union for the Third Republic and the Balearic civic unit for a Republic should make his meeting with the King something to look forward to, assuming he doesn't boycott it.
Being a Republican, though, hardly sets him out as unusual among Podemos ranks. There has to be something a bit more to the reluctance of PSOE and Més to have not wished to sanction his election. And it may just boil down to the very simple belief that they don't think he's up to the job. Fina Santiago, who is the Més minister for social services, was outraged by the idea that he was being opposed because of his work background. She explained that she believed that there were individuals within Podemos who were better qualified, better suited. She also found it odd that Podemos were backtracking on their aim for the speaker to be a woman.
Such a principle went by the board. Laura Camargo ruled herself out, Maicas was being quizzed by a judge, so there was no other option than a man. Balti it was and Balti it is, unless by some bizarre twist of politicking, the PP's candidate Nuria Riera is elected. Were she to be, then the government's pact would be well and truly busted.
Sunday, February 05, 2017
The Playground Of The Balearic Parliament
It doesn't get much better, does it. Aspiring parliamentary headmaster, Vicenç Thomas, took the throne that he covets, if only temporarily, and started to read the register. "Huertas?" "Seijas?" "Has anyone seen Huertas or Seijas?" "They're behind Més," blurted Jarabo. "Huertas, Seijas, why are you behind Més?" "We are of the left," they responded as one. "You may well be, but you were told to go and sit on the naughty chairs behind the PP. So I ask again - why are you behind Més?" "This deputy's going nowhere," insisted Seijas. "Look, I shall ask you only once more to go and sit behind the PP. If you don't, then I'll call security and they will physically move you." "It'll take a small army of security to do that," scoffed Jarabo. "Please, Jarabo, I expect better from you. There will be no weightist or fattist jokes in this chamber. Huertas, Seijas, why are you still there?"
And with that Xe-Lo and Montse arose and plodded off to the one and nines of the public gallery. Rarely, if ever, have the public been privileged to have a former speaker and friend come among them. And the public gallery is to where they will return until such a time as they are granted their wish to be among Mésites, if only in the rear. When might this be? Hell will probably have frozen over or perhaps the arrival of a new headmaster (not Vicenç) will enable a more conciliatory approach. This is unlikely, though, if Jarabo gets his way. Balti is the only man (or woman) for the job, it now seems. And if the Mésites and PSOE turn him down, then Jarabo and Podemos will break the pact. So there. Yah-boo!
They don't want Balti because he's a metalworker, insisted Jarabo. Which isn't strictly accurate as he's a full-time parliamentary deputy. He once was, though. But this isn't of course the reason why PSOEMés don't want him. It's pretty obvious why not. He looks like the one-time bass guitarist with The Allman Brothers Band. That's why. Get a haircut, Balti, and you'll be ushered in no problem.
Once the Xe-Lo/Montse panto was dispensed with, it was the turn of the PP to put on a display. As one they stood up and marched out of the chamber. Normally, in Congress anyway, it's Podemos who are the ones for the walking in response to jibes (typically of a Venezuelan nature) being launched from the PP. The insults were on the other foot (or mouth) in parliament.
Jarabo described a "mafioso relationship" between the PP and Palma police. Illegal trafficking in and possession of weapons, obstruction of justice, trafficking influence, malfeasance, coercion, bribery, threats, extortion, falsehood, insider dealing, crimes against public health, offences against the environment. And there, among the PP ranks, was the alleged "boss" of this network - Alvaro Gijón. Off marched the PP, two of them returning only for formality's sake, while there were heated discussions to a) get them all to go back and b) get Jarabo to apologise, which he didn't.
Vicenç, if he had seriously felt that the parliamentary presidential malarkey was worth it, would have been having second thoughts. Best let Balti handle things in future, Vicenç. Things can only get more ridiculous.
And with that Xe-Lo and Montse arose and plodded off to the one and nines of the public gallery. Rarely, if ever, have the public been privileged to have a former speaker and friend come among them. And the public gallery is to where they will return until such a time as they are granted their wish to be among Mésites, if only in the rear. When might this be? Hell will probably have frozen over or perhaps the arrival of a new headmaster (not Vicenç) will enable a more conciliatory approach. This is unlikely, though, if Jarabo gets his way. Balti is the only man (or woman) for the job, it now seems. And if the Mésites and PSOE turn him down, then Jarabo and Podemos will break the pact. So there. Yah-boo!
They don't want Balti because he's a metalworker, insisted Jarabo. Which isn't strictly accurate as he's a full-time parliamentary deputy. He once was, though. But this isn't of course the reason why PSOEMés don't want him. It's pretty obvious why not. He looks like the one-time bass guitarist with The Allman Brothers Band. That's why. Get a haircut, Balti, and you'll be ushered in no problem.
Once the Xe-Lo/Montse panto was dispensed with, it was the turn of the PP to put on a display. As one they stood up and marched out of the chamber. Normally, in Congress anyway, it's Podemos who are the ones for the walking in response to jibes (typically of a Venezuelan nature) being launched from the PP. The insults were on the other foot (or mouth) in parliament.
Jarabo described a "mafioso relationship" between the PP and Palma police. Illegal trafficking in and possession of weapons, obstruction of justice, trafficking influence, malfeasance, coercion, bribery, threats, extortion, falsehood, insider dealing, crimes against public health, offences against the environment. And there, among the PP ranks, was the alleged "boss" of this network - Alvaro Gijón. Off marched the PP, two of them returning only for formality's sake, while there were heated discussions to a) get them all to go back and b) get Jarabo to apologise, which he didn't.
Vicenç, if he had seriously felt that the parliamentary presidential malarkey was worth it, would have been having second thoughts. Best let Balti handle things in future, Vicenç. Things can only get more ridiculous.
Monday, January 23, 2017
Xe-Lo Likes Mick
Xe-Lo and her new best friend, Mick Vidal of the PP, were all smiles. Together they had placed an obstacle in the path of the coup attempt. Xe-Lo was not for leaving, other than to walk out of parliament with Mick, if not quite in hand in hand but with her reaching for a fag, as she had so unflatteringly been seen to do when her and Mick's courtship was starting a few weeks ago.
It turned out that parliament's lawyer had produced a document requiring Xe-Lo's instant dismissal. Xe-Lo hadn't seen this and nor had Mick. Right, they said, we're off, and they were, leaving the self-proclaimed Father of the House, PSOE's Vicenç Thomas, to do some explaining. Vicenç, first vice-president of parliament (there always have to be at least two VPs for pretty much anything), had taken over the meeting because Xe-Lo, reasonably enough, said she couldn't chair it given that her job was on the line. Out came the document, one with which Vicenç had believed that the blow could be struck. Alas no, where Vicenç was concerned. At least for now. He rather fancies Xe-Lo's job, allegedly.
What were the PP playing at, the "pact" demanded to know. It was obvious what they were playing at - causing mischief. Pact-ites railed against PP irresponsibility, while the PP were rolling around the floor with laughter. The greatest institutional crisis in the history of the Balearic parliament, the pact said, and the PP were to blame. Which wasn't strictly accurate. The crisis has all been of Podemos's making.
The crisis is such that a not unreasonable question was there to be asked about this document. Who had instructed the lawyer? As Xe-Lo was (still is) president, does she not get involved in such a matter? There again, she was unlikely to go all turkey and Christmas and tell the lawyer to order her dismissal.
Given that no one has a clue what's going on at present, the race to be Xe-Lo's successor was shunted into the background. And Podemos discovered, to their horror, that one of the runners and riders - the preferred one on account of her being a member of the sisterhood - was herself being shunted into the parliament presidential sidings. Marta Maicas had been cited by a judge in respect of Montse Seijas's "denuncia" for the digital signature falsification business. If not Marta, that leaves Podemos with only the Balti man, Picornell, as a front runner.
Neither Marta nor Balti curry a great deal of favour with certain pact-ites (especially PSOE). They are looked upon as being, well, too "shouty". Parliament and Podemos may live to regret the Xe-Lo crisis, given that all parties believed she was in fact rather good at her job, when not, for instance, being on holiday in Rome. PSOE would like the Father of the House to be officially anointed as daddy. And Vicenç wouldn't say no. The greater crisis would then ensue. Podemos would lose their one real hold on power not just in the Balearics but in any Spanish region. The pact would be subject to even greater pressure than it already is.
Meanwhile, the Podemos sisterhood credentials were in fact taking a further hammering. In addition to the alleged "blackmailing" of Carmen Azpelicueta - "be a good girl, and we'll look for a job for you" - it now seems that when a woman was being interviewed for a post as an adviser at the Council of Mallorca, she was asked if she has plans to get pregnant. That is a question that cannot be asked.
It turned out that parliament's lawyer had produced a document requiring Xe-Lo's instant dismissal. Xe-Lo hadn't seen this and nor had Mick. Right, they said, we're off, and they were, leaving the self-proclaimed Father of the House, PSOE's Vicenç Thomas, to do some explaining. Vicenç, first vice-president of parliament (there always have to be at least two VPs for pretty much anything), had taken over the meeting because Xe-Lo, reasonably enough, said she couldn't chair it given that her job was on the line. Out came the document, one with which Vicenç had believed that the blow could be struck. Alas no, where Vicenç was concerned. At least for now. He rather fancies Xe-Lo's job, allegedly.
What were the PP playing at, the "pact" demanded to know. It was obvious what they were playing at - causing mischief. Pact-ites railed against PP irresponsibility, while the PP were rolling around the floor with laughter. The greatest institutional crisis in the history of the Balearic parliament, the pact said, and the PP were to blame. Which wasn't strictly accurate. The crisis has all been of Podemos's making.
The crisis is such that a not unreasonable question was there to be asked about this document. Who had instructed the lawyer? As Xe-Lo was (still is) president, does she not get involved in such a matter? There again, she was unlikely to go all turkey and Christmas and tell the lawyer to order her dismissal.
Given that no one has a clue what's going on at present, the race to be Xe-Lo's successor was shunted into the background. And Podemos discovered, to their horror, that one of the runners and riders - the preferred one on account of her being a member of the sisterhood - was herself being shunted into the parliament presidential sidings. Marta Maicas had been cited by a judge in respect of Montse Seijas's "denuncia" for the digital signature falsification business. If not Marta, that leaves Podemos with only the Balti man, Picornell, as a front runner.
Neither Marta nor Balti curry a great deal of favour with certain pact-ites (especially PSOE). They are looked upon as being, well, too "shouty". Parliament and Podemos may live to regret the Xe-Lo crisis, given that all parties believed she was in fact rather good at her job, when not, for instance, being on holiday in Rome. PSOE would like the Father of the House to be officially anointed as daddy. And Vicenç wouldn't say no. The greater crisis would then ensue. Podemos would lose their one real hold on power not just in the Balearics but in any Spanish region. The pact would be subject to even greater pressure than it already is.
Meanwhile, the Podemos sisterhood credentials were in fact taking a further hammering. In addition to the alleged "blackmailing" of Carmen Azpelicueta - "be a good girl, and we'll look for a job for you" - it now seems that when a woman was being interviewed for a post as an adviser at the Council of Mallorca, she was asked if she has plans to get pregnant. That is a question that cannot be asked.
Monday, November 30, 2015
Running In The Podemos Family
What's the difference between Level 42 and Level 33? The first is the name of a relatively successful pop combo from the 1980s and the second isn't. Nine levels separate the two, but both share something in common. Level 42 borrowed Douglas Adams' answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything. Level 33 is the answer to the ultimate question of Podemos, its universe and everything, the ultimate question, in this instance, not only being what the hell is Level 33 but why, in the name of everything consensual and participatory in democratic regeneration, anyone should give a monkey's.
In a Level 42, Mark King style, it runs in the family, you know: the Podemos family, with its occasional flirtations with a Chinese way or whichever direction happens to be flavour "de jour". The flip-flop nature of the Podemos family makes it nigh on impossible to pin down the ultimate question that surrounds it, let alone the ultimate answer, but Level 33 gets close.
For those of you who don't know, Level 33 is the mysterious term applied to one-time senior governmental officials who, once a new lot gets in, are booted out of a job but continue to receive a monthly payment of between 400 and 800 euros. Their numbers are such that they cost the government around a million a year. They, those who have attained Level 33, the meaning of which is lost even on me (it is something obscure in the quirkiness of public administration), have been the target of the ire of the left, a civil service "caste" benefiting from ongoing public-money largesse: the target, therefore, for the full-on agitprop of Podemos and Wild Man Més, aka David Abril.
Into the Level 33 argument strode The Font of all middle-of-the-road Mallorcan politics, Jaume of that ilk. El Pi proposed that Level 33 shouldn't go the way of all old Level 42 CDs and be hauled off to the Green Point recycling centre. Or just be scrapped. The Font of all parliamentary knowledge observed that the courts may well have a field day if this was done. Astonishingly enough, Podemos agreed with him, its leader, Dave Spart, doubtless having consulted - via Twitter - with the party's new legal guru, the good former judge Yllanes.
Having raised an amendment which backed The Font, the Podemistas promptly changed their minds. It had been an "error" to have agreed with El Pi and thus be exposed as a party of the centre or even vaguely of the right, something that would never do. They withdrew the amendment. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, while the courts began to sharpen their knives.
As Mark King once sang: "looking back it's so bizarre, it runs in the family". It is and and it does. And we're still not sure what either the ultimate question or answer is, other than that Level 33 shows how they can oddly change direction. They'll both be different this time next week; it runs in the Podemos family.
Index for November 2015
Air connectivity Mallorca - 18 November 2015
Balearic budget - 2 November 2015
Catalonia independence - 13 November 2015
Football history in Mallorca - 29 November 2015
Franco and protest - 4 November 2015
Health centre all-day opening - 23 November 2015
Holiday rentals - 28 November 2015
IB3 Andreu Manresa - 26 November 2015
Institutions and change - 20 November 2015
Jimi Hendrix in Mallorca - 22 November 2015
Mallorca's film history - 15 November 2015
Mallorca's other resorts and investment - 10 November 2015
Markets - 17 November 2015
Mushrooms - 8 November 2015
Palacio de Congresos - 27 November 2015
Pla region tourism promotion - 19 November 2015
Podemos and hoteliers - 16 November 2015
Podemos and Level 33 - 30 November 2015
Podemos and the General - 9 November 2015
Podemos and the Judge - 24 November 2015
Promoting Mallorca - 3 November 2015
Ramon Llull and cultural tourism - 6 November 2015
Religious tourism - 12 November 2015
Ritch Miller - 1 November 2015
Self-service alcohol - 14 November 2015
Tourism investments for the Balearics - 5 November 2015
Tourist tax - 7 November 2015, 21 November 2015, 25 November 2015
Urban green space in Mallorca - 11 November 2015
In a Level 42, Mark King style, it runs in the family, you know: the Podemos family, with its occasional flirtations with a Chinese way or whichever direction happens to be flavour "de jour". The flip-flop nature of the Podemos family makes it nigh on impossible to pin down the ultimate question that surrounds it, let alone the ultimate answer, but Level 33 gets close.
For those of you who don't know, Level 33 is the mysterious term applied to one-time senior governmental officials who, once a new lot gets in, are booted out of a job but continue to receive a monthly payment of between 400 and 800 euros. Their numbers are such that they cost the government around a million a year. They, those who have attained Level 33, the meaning of which is lost even on me (it is something obscure in the quirkiness of public administration), have been the target of the ire of the left, a civil service "caste" benefiting from ongoing public-money largesse: the target, therefore, for the full-on agitprop of Podemos and Wild Man Més, aka David Abril.
Into the Level 33 argument strode The Font of all middle-of-the-road Mallorcan politics, Jaume of that ilk. El Pi proposed that Level 33 shouldn't go the way of all old Level 42 CDs and be hauled off to the Green Point recycling centre. Or just be scrapped. The Font of all parliamentary knowledge observed that the courts may well have a field day if this was done. Astonishingly enough, Podemos agreed with him, its leader, Dave Spart, doubtless having consulted - via Twitter - with the party's new legal guru, the good former judge Yllanes.
Having raised an amendment which backed The Font, the Podemistas promptly changed their minds. It had been an "error" to have agreed with El Pi and thus be exposed as a party of the centre or even vaguely of the right, something that would never do. They withdrew the amendment. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, while the courts began to sharpen their knives.
As Mark King once sang: "looking back it's so bizarre, it runs in the family". It is and and it does. And we're still not sure what either the ultimate question or answer is, other than that Level 33 shows how they can oddly change direction. They'll both be different this time next week; it runs in the Podemos family.
Index for November 2015
Air connectivity Mallorca - 18 November 2015
Balearic budget - 2 November 2015
Catalonia independence - 13 November 2015
Football history in Mallorca - 29 November 2015
Franco and protest - 4 November 2015
Health centre all-day opening - 23 November 2015
Holiday rentals - 28 November 2015
IB3 Andreu Manresa - 26 November 2015
Institutions and change - 20 November 2015
Jimi Hendrix in Mallorca - 22 November 2015
Mallorca's film history - 15 November 2015
Mallorca's other resorts and investment - 10 November 2015
Markets - 17 November 2015
Mushrooms - 8 November 2015
Palacio de Congresos - 27 November 2015
Pla region tourism promotion - 19 November 2015
Podemos and hoteliers - 16 November 2015
Podemos and Level 33 - 30 November 2015
Podemos and the General - 9 November 2015
Podemos and the Judge - 24 November 2015
Promoting Mallorca - 3 November 2015
Ramon Llull and cultural tourism - 6 November 2015
Religious tourism - 12 November 2015
Ritch Miller - 1 November 2015
Self-service alcohol - 14 November 2015
Tourism investments for the Balearics - 5 November 2015
Tourist tax - 7 November 2015, 21 November 2015, 25 November 2015
Urban green space in Mallorca - 11 November 2015
Saturday, April 18, 2015
The Psychology Of Lists
So, there was this thing - the BBC's website, I think - about lists. The psychology thereof. Why are we so drawn to learning the top ten things to do on a wet weekend in Wolverhampton? Perhaps they should also look into the psychology of why we want to read articles about the psychology of lists. Whatever the article was going on about, I was that underwhelmed that I can't remember what it said. If it had been a list, maybe I would have done.
José Ramón Bauzá may or may not possess intimate knowledge of the psychology of lists, he may or may not be a student of psephology, but he has been hard at it, putting together his own list. Now, who should I put at number eighteen, he may have mumbled to himself at home with Sra. Bauzá who was diligently compiling her own list of the week's shopping items from Mercadona (or any other supermarket; I have no way of knowing the shopping preferences of leading Balearics politicians' spouses as no one has issued a list to identify them).
I know, he would suddenly have thought. That taekwondo girl. What's her name? Brigitte Yagüe. That's her. Silver medal at the London Olympics. Number eighteen she is. How about the tennis boy? Hmm, he probably has other things to do. No matter, there's always his uncle. Rafael Nadal. If there's one good thing about Manacor - and it certainly isn't Antoni Pastor - you can rely on there being a whole load of Rafael Nadals to pick from. Number eleven he is.
Of course, no list for Partido Popular parliamentary candidates would be complete without a fair smattering of the fair sex to attract the fair sex vote. So, why not match women to even numbers and men to odd numbers. Brilliant. What psychology. Number two, Maria Salom; number four, Margarita Prohens; number six, Antonia Perelló (who?). And on they even numbered go, all the way down to the PP's taekwondo expert and beyond.
The trickier part was knowing who to leave out of the squad. When there are 33 to list plus a few reserves, you are not going to make everyone happy, but there will be one or two who are dispensable. How about the health bloke? Sansaloni. He'll be taking the rap for the "caso Farmacias" thing in any event but he won't make a fuss about not being picked. Personal reasons. Just tell them it's for personal reasons, Marti. And he has. Martínez. He's another one for the chop. As it is, never been too sure about a fella who looks as though he's enjoyed too many good lunches being in charge of sport and tourism. Off you go.
The list duly compiled, the winners and losers notified, the 33 headed off for Son Termens and a happy-clappy photo opportunity. All good friends together; one big, happy PP family. What psychology. What could possibly now go wrong? Shame that at the same time, Mariano Rajoy's old chum Rodrigo Rato was being arrested.
José Ramón Bauzá may or may not possess intimate knowledge of the psychology of lists, he may or may not be a student of psephology, but he has been hard at it, putting together his own list. Now, who should I put at number eighteen, he may have mumbled to himself at home with Sra. Bauzá who was diligently compiling her own list of the week's shopping items from Mercadona (or any other supermarket; I have no way of knowing the shopping preferences of leading Balearics politicians' spouses as no one has issued a list to identify them).
I know, he would suddenly have thought. That taekwondo girl. What's her name? Brigitte Yagüe. That's her. Silver medal at the London Olympics. Number eighteen she is. How about the tennis boy? Hmm, he probably has other things to do. No matter, there's always his uncle. Rafael Nadal. If there's one good thing about Manacor - and it certainly isn't Antoni Pastor - you can rely on there being a whole load of Rafael Nadals to pick from. Number eleven he is.
Of course, no list for Partido Popular parliamentary candidates would be complete without a fair smattering of the fair sex to attract the fair sex vote. So, why not match women to even numbers and men to odd numbers. Brilliant. What psychology. Number two, Maria Salom; number four, Margarita Prohens; number six, Antonia Perelló (who?). And on they even numbered go, all the way down to the PP's taekwondo expert and beyond.
The trickier part was knowing who to leave out of the squad. When there are 33 to list plus a few reserves, you are not going to make everyone happy, but there will be one or two who are dispensable. How about the health bloke? Sansaloni. He'll be taking the rap for the "caso Farmacias" thing in any event but he won't make a fuss about not being picked. Personal reasons. Just tell them it's for personal reasons, Marti. And he has. Martínez. He's another one for the chop. As it is, never been too sure about a fella who looks as though he's enjoyed too many good lunches being in charge of sport and tourism. Off you go.
The list duly compiled, the winners and losers notified, the 33 headed off for Son Termens and a happy-clappy photo opportunity. All good friends together; one big, happy PP family. What psychology. What could possibly now go wrong? Shame that at the same time, Mariano Rajoy's old chum Rodrigo Rato was being arrested.
Thursday, March 26, 2015
Misrepresentation Of The People
The Partido Popular has lost a vote in the Balearic parliament. It is the first vote that it has lost during this administration. It will be the last. It was a vote lost because despite the PP having a clear majority, the majority is too low. A qualified majority of two-thirds of the parliamentary deputies was required for them to act like turkeys, vote for Christmas and to see sixteen of their number removed from the chamber. The PP motion to cut parliamentary representation was always destined to fail. The party has no friends in parliament. The motion, the debate, the vote were no more than symbolic.
Nevertheless, the process was worthwhile. Before President Bauzá got it underway, had anyone stopped to ask why the Balearics needed 59 deputies? His opponents refused to back the motion because they feared that a reduction would merely strengthen the PP and would "alter the basic rules of Balearic democracy". Bauzá argued that it was only a cost-cutting exercise: an annual saving of seven million euros. Neither view focused on the core issue. Why 59? And neither view addressed an underlying issue. Just who do these 59 represent?
The opposition speak of basic rules of democracy, but what do they mean? The representation of the people in the Balearics is significantly greater than the Spanish benchmark of one parliamentary deputy per 40,000 people. Basic rules of democracy were not about to have been broken had the Balearics ratio changed from one deputy per 19,000 people to 1:26,000, which is what would have happened if the motion had been accepted. But whether 43 or 59 deputies, there is the subsidiary question - who do they actually represent?
At present in parliament there is only deputy who can be considered to in any way represent a constituency, and that is Margalida Font, the single deputy for the island of Formentera. None of the others can be, because no deputy, including Sra. Font, has a constituency. Comparing the parliamentary system here to the one in Britain may not be fair, and it would be wrong to assert that the British system is by any means perfect or truly representative, but the constituency basis of that system does give greater accountability: an MP is, not always in practice of course, accountable to his or her constituents. In the Balearics there aren't constituents to be accountable to. The consequence of this is that a deputy's allegiance is to the party and to the party alone. There are no constituents to muddy the waters and potentially divide that allegiance.
Coming back to the number of deputies, it is hard to accept the opposition's argument that democracy would somehow be diminished if there were fewer of them. By standards of other parts of Spain, the Balearic parliament is over-represented and would still have been with 16 fewer deputies. But over-representation, even at an unnecessary cost of seven million euros a year, is preferable to under-representation, which brings us to Andalusia.
There, the ratio of deputies to population is one per 77,000, almost double the national benchmark, and it has of course just had a parliamentary election. For a population approximately eight times greater than that of the Balearics, Andalusia doesn't even manage to have twice as many deputies: 109 play the Balearics 59. The representation, whether too little or too great, is cockeyed. And in Andalusia it will be even more so if Susana Díaz does as she has said she will, which is to govern in minority.
The PSOE minority in Andalusia isn't to the tune of one or two seats. It is eight short of the 55 needed for a majority, a far from insignificant shortfall in terms of what her PSOE colleagues in the Balearics might deem to be the "basic rules" of democracy. And the 47 seats have been gained with a percentage share of the vote of just over one-third. How can governing in minority when the minority is as small as it is be considered to be adequately representative? It can't be. Díaz's proposal, supported by PSOE's national leader, Pedro Sanchez, is little short of a disgrace.
Why does she appear intent on minority government and so on avoiding coalition partners? Let's hazard a guess. The partner would have to be one or other of Podemos or Ciudadanos, both of them rivals to PSOE nationally. The last thing PSOE wants at present is to give either of them the credibility that would come from inclusion in a coalition and so also potentially strengthen their support nationally. But between them, Podemos and Ciudadanos gained a quarter of the share of the vote. Denying either of them the chance to be in government would be a snub to the electorate and an abuse of the system of proportional representation.
Nevertheless, the process was worthwhile. Before President Bauzá got it underway, had anyone stopped to ask why the Balearics needed 59 deputies? His opponents refused to back the motion because they feared that a reduction would merely strengthen the PP and would "alter the basic rules of Balearic democracy". Bauzá argued that it was only a cost-cutting exercise: an annual saving of seven million euros. Neither view focused on the core issue. Why 59? And neither view addressed an underlying issue. Just who do these 59 represent?
The opposition speak of basic rules of democracy, but what do they mean? The representation of the people in the Balearics is significantly greater than the Spanish benchmark of one parliamentary deputy per 40,000 people. Basic rules of democracy were not about to have been broken had the Balearics ratio changed from one deputy per 19,000 people to 1:26,000, which is what would have happened if the motion had been accepted. But whether 43 or 59 deputies, there is the subsidiary question - who do they actually represent?
At present in parliament there is only deputy who can be considered to in any way represent a constituency, and that is Margalida Font, the single deputy for the island of Formentera. None of the others can be, because no deputy, including Sra. Font, has a constituency. Comparing the parliamentary system here to the one in Britain may not be fair, and it would be wrong to assert that the British system is by any means perfect or truly representative, but the constituency basis of that system does give greater accountability: an MP is, not always in practice of course, accountable to his or her constituents. In the Balearics there aren't constituents to be accountable to. The consequence of this is that a deputy's allegiance is to the party and to the party alone. There are no constituents to muddy the waters and potentially divide that allegiance.
Coming back to the number of deputies, it is hard to accept the opposition's argument that democracy would somehow be diminished if there were fewer of them. By standards of other parts of Spain, the Balearic parliament is over-represented and would still have been with 16 fewer deputies. But over-representation, even at an unnecessary cost of seven million euros a year, is preferable to under-representation, which brings us to Andalusia.
There, the ratio of deputies to population is one per 77,000, almost double the national benchmark, and it has of course just had a parliamentary election. For a population approximately eight times greater than that of the Balearics, Andalusia doesn't even manage to have twice as many deputies: 109 play the Balearics 59. The representation, whether too little or too great, is cockeyed. And in Andalusia it will be even more so if Susana Díaz does as she has said she will, which is to govern in minority.
The PSOE minority in Andalusia isn't to the tune of one or two seats. It is eight short of the 55 needed for a majority, a far from insignificant shortfall in terms of what her PSOE colleagues in the Balearics might deem to be the "basic rules" of democracy. And the 47 seats have been gained with a percentage share of the vote of just over one-third. How can governing in minority when the minority is as small as it is be considered to be adequately representative? It can't be. Díaz's proposal, supported by PSOE's national leader, Pedro Sanchez, is little short of a disgrace.
Why does she appear intent on minority government and so on avoiding coalition partners? Let's hazard a guess. The partner would have to be one or other of Podemos or Ciudadanos, both of them rivals to PSOE nationally. The last thing PSOE wants at present is to give either of them the credibility that would come from inclusion in a coalition and so also potentially strengthen their support nationally. But between them, Podemos and Ciudadanos gained a quarter of the share of the vote. Denying either of them the chance to be in government would be a snub to the electorate and an abuse of the system of proportional representation.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Need Not Cost: Balearics' parliamentary deputies
If a legal reform is drafted, under which the number of deputies to parliament are reduced by 16, who do you suppose would be most prominent in offering a reaction to such a draft? If you reckon that it would be spokespeople from various political parties, then you would be right. But you might not reckon on it being a spokesperson from one sector of the business community.
President Bauzá has put forward the draft to reduce the size of the Balearic parliament from 59 to 43 deputies. When this reduction was first being discussed in September last year, the cut was to have been 18 deputies. Two have, therefore, been spared. 16 from 59, or some 27%, might seem like a lot of deputies to get rid of, but the question is still the same now as it was back in September. Why does the parliament need 43 let alone 59 deputies? A second question also remains. How do they arrive at these numbers in the first place?
The answer to this second question has been offered by Paul Heywood, a professor of European politics. He has said that parliamentary representation in Spain and not just the Balearics is determined "without any guiding orientation". The number of deputies, therefore, are pretty much plucked out of the air. There is a bit more to it than that because there is a territorial-population relationship, but the guiding orientation is, nevertheless, somewhat woolly and indeed open to interpretation. What guiding orientation there is suggests - in general terms - that there should be one representative per 40,000 people. For the Balearics, there is currently one deputy for 19,000 people. Under the reform this would rise to 26,000 people, while the number of seats in parliament would become 24 for Mallorca (nine fewer), nine for both Menorca and Ibiza (respectively, down four and three), and one for Formentera (no change).
The government's justification for the reform is a cost one. It claims that the reduction would result in a saving of slightly more than eleven million euros during the period of a legislature. As such, the motivation for the reform is very much in line with government policy to cut the costs of public administration. But this cost saving is being seen as a smokescreen and as a diversion of attention from other matters. It is also being seen as a ploy to ensure that the Partido Popular always wins elections.
Electoral reform has a tendency to benefit governments which introduce it. Or at least this is how such reform is typically perceived and is certainly how it is being perceived in the Balearics by the other parties and by some analysts. The smaller parties stand to lose out under this reform. Democracy and true representation of the people are, therefore, undermined.
The chances of the draft reform actually becoming law are not as might be presumed. For a reform of this nature, having a parliamentary majority, which the PP has, is insufficient. A two-thirds vote in favour is required. The PP does not have enough deputies to carry this vote. As it is believed that smaller parties will suffer under the reform, it seems unlikely that they would back the government. PSOE, the main opposition, certainly won't be supporting Bauzá.
While it is easy for the opposition parties to toss around accusations of being undemocratic, they are not answering the question why the number is as it is. Or indeed as it would become. There are parts of Spain where the ratio of people to deputy is considerably higher than the 40,000 benchmark. In Andalusia, as an example, the ratio is one per 75,000.
The PP is playing to its audience by challenging the opposition to justify not diverting the 11 million from parliamentary cost to other causes, such as the health service, but in a way it doesn't need to. Does the electorate believe that it is necessary for there to be 59 deputies? Maybe it does believe so, but there is no truly convincing argument as to why.
Opposition parties being as opposition parties are, one would expect them to oppose the reform, but what of the support for the government? Who is the spokesperson from a sector of the business community who has voiced support? It is the president of the Mallorcan hoteliers federation. And what, pray, has this reform got to do with the hoteliers?
The federation's president, Aurelio Vázquez, says that the reduction would be in line with the hoteliers calls for rationalisation of public expenditure and that other political parties should support the government. The federation has every right to express its views, but is it really appropriate for it to be getting involved? There is a suspicion that it gets its way with PP legislation as it is, and by voicing support, it will only make opposition parties less inclined to back the government.
The reform seems reasonable enough, but a key justification is in danger of being lost in the argument. Need, and not cost or what the hoteliers might think. Why are so many deputies needed? They aren't.
Index for April 2014
Alcúdia's Mile - 4 April 2014
Alcúdia's port - 25 April 2014
All-inclusives and PSOE policy - 28 April 2014
Article salat at IB3 - 17 April 2014, 29 April 2014
Balearic parliamentary deputies reduction - 30 April 2014
Bullfighting - 22 April 2014
Fairs in April - 5 April 2014
Calvia and Sóller on Trip Advisor - 10 April 2014
Camping in Mallorca - 15 April 2014
Corruption and residence cards - 3 April 2014
Cricket season, Mallorcan tourism season - 7 April 2014
Feuds - 18 April 2014
Francina Armengol wins PSOE presidential nomination - 8 April 2014
Gabriel García Márquez and Day of the Book - 20 April 2014
Insecurities in Mallorca - 1 April 2014
Low-cost hotels - 16 April 2014
Mallorca's plain and tourism - 6 April 2014
May hotel occupancy in Mallorca - 24 April 2014
Mayors rebel against President Bauzá - 12 April 2014
Nicknames - 23 April 2014
Palm Sunday - 13 April 2014
Pancaritat Easter picnics - 19 April 2014
Partido Popular and discounts - 26 April 2014
Playa de Muro's boulevard - 11 April 2014
Summer season in Mallorca - 27 April 2014
Ten things that changed Mallorca's tourism - 14 April 2014
Theme parks - 2 April 2014
Tourism museum in Calella - 9 April 2014
Tourism raw material - 21 April 2014
President Bauzá has put forward the draft to reduce the size of the Balearic parliament from 59 to 43 deputies. When this reduction was first being discussed in September last year, the cut was to have been 18 deputies. Two have, therefore, been spared. 16 from 59, or some 27%, might seem like a lot of deputies to get rid of, but the question is still the same now as it was back in September. Why does the parliament need 43 let alone 59 deputies? A second question also remains. How do they arrive at these numbers in the first place?
The answer to this second question has been offered by Paul Heywood, a professor of European politics. He has said that parliamentary representation in Spain and not just the Balearics is determined "without any guiding orientation". The number of deputies, therefore, are pretty much plucked out of the air. There is a bit more to it than that because there is a territorial-population relationship, but the guiding orientation is, nevertheless, somewhat woolly and indeed open to interpretation. What guiding orientation there is suggests - in general terms - that there should be one representative per 40,000 people. For the Balearics, there is currently one deputy for 19,000 people. Under the reform this would rise to 26,000 people, while the number of seats in parliament would become 24 for Mallorca (nine fewer), nine for both Menorca and Ibiza (respectively, down four and three), and one for Formentera (no change).
The government's justification for the reform is a cost one. It claims that the reduction would result in a saving of slightly more than eleven million euros during the period of a legislature. As such, the motivation for the reform is very much in line with government policy to cut the costs of public administration. But this cost saving is being seen as a smokescreen and as a diversion of attention from other matters. It is also being seen as a ploy to ensure that the Partido Popular always wins elections.
Electoral reform has a tendency to benefit governments which introduce it. Or at least this is how such reform is typically perceived and is certainly how it is being perceived in the Balearics by the other parties and by some analysts. The smaller parties stand to lose out under this reform. Democracy and true representation of the people are, therefore, undermined.
The chances of the draft reform actually becoming law are not as might be presumed. For a reform of this nature, having a parliamentary majority, which the PP has, is insufficient. A two-thirds vote in favour is required. The PP does not have enough deputies to carry this vote. As it is believed that smaller parties will suffer under the reform, it seems unlikely that they would back the government. PSOE, the main opposition, certainly won't be supporting Bauzá.
While it is easy for the opposition parties to toss around accusations of being undemocratic, they are not answering the question why the number is as it is. Or indeed as it would become. There are parts of Spain where the ratio of people to deputy is considerably higher than the 40,000 benchmark. In Andalusia, as an example, the ratio is one per 75,000.
The PP is playing to its audience by challenging the opposition to justify not diverting the 11 million from parliamentary cost to other causes, such as the health service, but in a way it doesn't need to. Does the electorate believe that it is necessary for there to be 59 deputies? Maybe it does believe so, but there is no truly convincing argument as to why.
Opposition parties being as opposition parties are, one would expect them to oppose the reform, but what of the support for the government? Who is the spokesperson from a sector of the business community who has voiced support? It is the president of the Mallorcan hoteliers federation. And what, pray, has this reform got to do with the hoteliers?
The federation's president, Aurelio Vázquez, says that the reduction would be in line with the hoteliers calls for rationalisation of public expenditure and that other political parties should support the government. The federation has every right to express its views, but is it really appropriate for it to be getting involved? There is a suspicion that it gets its way with PP legislation as it is, and by voicing support, it will only make opposition parties less inclined to back the government.
The reform seems reasonable enough, but a key justification is in danger of being lost in the argument. Need, and not cost or what the hoteliers might think. Why are so many deputies needed? They aren't.
Index for April 2014
Alcúdia's Mile - 4 April 2014
Alcúdia's port - 25 April 2014
All-inclusives and PSOE policy - 28 April 2014
Article salat at IB3 - 17 April 2014, 29 April 2014
Balearic parliamentary deputies reduction - 30 April 2014
Bullfighting - 22 April 2014
Fairs in April - 5 April 2014
Calvia and Sóller on Trip Advisor - 10 April 2014
Camping in Mallorca - 15 April 2014
Corruption and residence cards - 3 April 2014
Cricket season, Mallorcan tourism season - 7 April 2014
Feuds - 18 April 2014
Francina Armengol wins PSOE presidential nomination - 8 April 2014
Gabriel García Márquez and Day of the Book - 20 April 2014
Insecurities in Mallorca - 1 April 2014
Low-cost hotels - 16 April 2014
Mallorca's plain and tourism - 6 April 2014
May hotel occupancy in Mallorca - 24 April 2014
Mayors rebel against President Bauzá - 12 April 2014
Nicknames - 23 April 2014
Palm Sunday - 13 April 2014
Pancaritat Easter picnics - 19 April 2014
Partido Popular and discounts - 26 April 2014
Playa de Muro's boulevard - 11 April 2014
Summer season in Mallorca - 27 April 2014
Ten things that changed Mallorca's tourism - 14 April 2014
Theme parks - 2 April 2014
Tourism museum in Calella - 9 April 2014
Tourism raw material - 21 April 2014
Monday, February 24, 2014
Persona Non Grata: Persona nonsensical
Can you name any well-known people who were declared persona non grata? If not, then let me offer you a few (well, three anyway): Kurt Waldheim (allegations of Nazi war crimes and so given persona non grata status in the US among other countries); Queen Victoria Eugenie of Spain (the Italians booted her out in 1942 because she had sympathies with the Allies); Jörg Haider (the Israelis declared him non grata for fairly obvious reasons).
Persona non grata is used in diplomatic circles. The Vienna Convention says that a state may "at any time and without having to explain its decision" declare a member of diplomatic staff persona non grata, a declaration that usually leads to expulsion from a country. Persona non grata, by definition (diplomatic definition at any rate), has to apply to someone from another country. It cannot apply to someone from one's own country. Except in Spain, or specifically the Balearics, where it does.
When countries engage in a spot of non-grata-ing, there is usually a tit-for-tat response. You make our chap persona non grata, we'll make your chap persona non grata. So there. The Balearic Parliament has managed to introduce the same principle, substituting left and right for country X and country Y. Even by its pretty low standards, the parliament has plumbed even greater depths of stupidity by entering into a tit-for-tat non-grata-ing carry-on.
The background is of course oil, the subject which dare not speak its name with any modicum of measured debate, and the last place you will get any measured debate is the parliamentary playground. David Abril is the leader of the merged Iniciativa d'Esquerres (initiative of the lefts) and Els Verds de Mallorca (greens). This merged entity forms part of the Més per Mallorca coalition. Eco-socalism is an ideology to which David is partial and as such you would imagine - and you would be right - that he isn't overly keen on oil companies drilling ruddy great holes in the seabed near to the Balearics. As part of the parliamentary debate (if one can call it that) about oil exploration, David called for national energy minister José Manuel Soria to be declared persona non grata.
Having done so, the tit-for-tat started, the Partido Popular's spokesperson, Mabel Cabrer, calling for not one, not two, but three politicians from the left to also be declared persona non grata. They were, in descending order of importance, former prime minister José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero, former president of the Balearics, Francesc Antich, and ex-minister for the environment in the Balearics, Gabriel Vicens. Why was she picking on this triumvirate? Because it's all their fault, this oil malarkey. Nasty, horrid socialists that they are. Nothing to do with us in the PP or with nice Sr. Soria. And in fingering Vicens, Mabel struck a deep wound in David's eco-socialist heart, as Gabriel is of a similar bent and a member of the PSM Mallorcan socialists, one part of the Més fraternity.
What neither David nor Mabel was able to explain was quite how persona non grata status might work in practice, especially where Antich and Vicens are concerned. As they both live in Mallorca, would it be the intention to force them into exile to Benidorm or somewhere? But of course, silly me, persona non grata doesn't really mean what it normally means (at least I don't think it does). It is a yah-boo, sucks to you, we're going to ignore you type of persona non grata; a sending to Coventry persona non grata, always assuming that Coventry doesn't invoke the Vienna Convention.
In fact, the resort to the non-grata mechanism is pretty common; so common that it is utterly meaningless. Just as an example, President Bauzá and agriculture/environment/transport ministerial supremo Gabriel Company both copped for some non-grata-ing from the train platform in Mallorca's Llevant region last year. This wasn't an actual platform because there are no platforms and there are no trains, which was the whole point; a group (the platform) in favour of the train that will not run from Manacor to Artà wanted Bauzá and Company to be declared personas non gratas, which presumably meant that they would get a frosty reception were they to set foot in Son Servera, Sant Llorenç or Artà ever again.
The calls in parliament were, as with other similar demands for persona non grata, pretty puerile and they also obscured whatever sensible discussion there may have been on the oil business. But as we know, there is very little that is sensible, just name-calling and tit-for-tat posturing in what - the parliament - is supposed to be the islands' premier debating chamber. That it is not, and so lamentable is its attempts at debate that perhaps the whole lot of them should be declared persona non grata.
Persona non grata is used in diplomatic circles. The Vienna Convention says that a state may "at any time and without having to explain its decision" declare a member of diplomatic staff persona non grata, a declaration that usually leads to expulsion from a country. Persona non grata, by definition (diplomatic definition at any rate), has to apply to someone from another country. It cannot apply to someone from one's own country. Except in Spain, or specifically the Balearics, where it does.
When countries engage in a spot of non-grata-ing, there is usually a tit-for-tat response. You make our chap persona non grata, we'll make your chap persona non grata. So there. The Balearic Parliament has managed to introduce the same principle, substituting left and right for country X and country Y. Even by its pretty low standards, the parliament has plumbed even greater depths of stupidity by entering into a tit-for-tat non-grata-ing carry-on.
The background is of course oil, the subject which dare not speak its name with any modicum of measured debate, and the last place you will get any measured debate is the parliamentary playground. David Abril is the leader of the merged Iniciativa d'Esquerres (initiative of the lefts) and Els Verds de Mallorca (greens). This merged entity forms part of the Més per Mallorca coalition. Eco-socalism is an ideology to which David is partial and as such you would imagine - and you would be right - that he isn't overly keen on oil companies drilling ruddy great holes in the seabed near to the Balearics. As part of the parliamentary debate (if one can call it that) about oil exploration, David called for national energy minister José Manuel Soria to be declared persona non grata.
Having done so, the tit-for-tat started, the Partido Popular's spokesperson, Mabel Cabrer, calling for not one, not two, but three politicians from the left to also be declared persona non grata. They were, in descending order of importance, former prime minister José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero, former president of the Balearics, Francesc Antich, and ex-minister for the environment in the Balearics, Gabriel Vicens. Why was she picking on this triumvirate? Because it's all their fault, this oil malarkey. Nasty, horrid socialists that they are. Nothing to do with us in the PP or with nice Sr. Soria. And in fingering Vicens, Mabel struck a deep wound in David's eco-socialist heart, as Gabriel is of a similar bent and a member of the PSM Mallorcan socialists, one part of the Més fraternity.
What neither David nor Mabel was able to explain was quite how persona non grata status might work in practice, especially where Antich and Vicens are concerned. As they both live in Mallorca, would it be the intention to force them into exile to Benidorm or somewhere? But of course, silly me, persona non grata doesn't really mean what it normally means (at least I don't think it does). It is a yah-boo, sucks to you, we're going to ignore you type of persona non grata; a sending to Coventry persona non grata, always assuming that Coventry doesn't invoke the Vienna Convention.
In fact, the resort to the non-grata mechanism is pretty common; so common that it is utterly meaningless. Just as an example, President Bauzá and agriculture/environment/transport ministerial supremo Gabriel Company both copped for some non-grata-ing from the train platform in Mallorca's Llevant region last year. This wasn't an actual platform because there are no platforms and there are no trains, which was the whole point; a group (the platform) in favour of the train that will not run from Manacor to Artà wanted Bauzá and Company to be declared personas non gratas, which presumably meant that they would get a frosty reception were they to set foot in Son Servera, Sant Llorenç or Artà ever again.
The calls in parliament were, as with other similar demands for persona non grata, pretty puerile and they also obscured whatever sensible discussion there may have been on the oil business. But as we know, there is very little that is sensible, just name-calling and tit-for-tat posturing in what - the parliament - is supposed to be the islands' premier debating chamber. That it is not, and so lamentable is its attempts at debate that perhaps the whole lot of them should be declared persona non grata.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
The Non-Existent Lands: Balearics and Catalonia
Cliché it may be but there is some truth to the notion that certain things can only happen in Mallorca. They could also, theoretically, happen in Ibiza, Formentera and Menorca, but in practice they couldn't, as none of those islands can boast having a Balearic Parliament. Only Mallorca can boast such an institution, and so it could indeed only have happened in Mallorca.
You will be delighted to know how wisely taxpayer money is spent on parliament and parliamentary debate, because this week the Balearic Parliament has been considering where or to what the Balearics belong. On the face of it, the answer to the question is pretty simple. For quite a number of years now the Balearics have belonged to Spain. Once the British were finally booted out of Menorca, over 200 years ago, there hasn't been much argument about the fact that the Balearics, all of the islands, are Spanish.
But hold on, what am I saying? Arguments there are, and arguments there were among our honourable friends in Parliament. And these arguments centred on the pretender to Balearics' possession. Which is? No, not is, but are. The Catalan Lands. Yep, Parliament has been debating whether or not the Balearics belong to these Lands and presumably not therefore to Spain.
Just one of the problems with this debate was a fairly crucial one. As some honourable friends - you won't be surprised to learn that they were from the Partido Popular - disputed the very existence of the Catalan Lands, it was difficult to hold a debate. How can one debate the claim that the Balearics belong to the Catalan Lands when there is no such thing as the Catalan Lands? There again, there are any number of people who are prepared to argue that God doesn't exist but will still insist on debating this non-existence rather than saying that because they don't believe in God's existence, there isn't a great deal of point arguing about it.
While the Catalan Lands may in fact only be an abstract or mythical concept, the fact that they are nebulous is no obstacle to wasting time in Parliament discussing something which doesn't exist, especially when there are others who believe in the God of the Catalan Lands. All the parliamentary deputies, more or less, who are not with the PP are, at the very least, prepared to countenance the possibility of the Lands' existence. So, there they were, debate lines drawn between Catalan Lands atheists, some of an agnostic tendency and others who follow the faith.
In purely linguistic terms, there are - and even the PP have to concede this - certain regions where Catalan or a variant thereof is spoken. The Balearics form one such region. (I don't know why I'm telling you this, as I would presume you realise this, but whatever.) Speaking the lingo or a type of the lingo isn't quite the same thing as there being a "Catalan Lands" though, because as a concept this has a political and historical background. And it was the politics that went to the heart of the debate. Eventually, Parliament (i.e. the PP because of its majority) decided that the Balearics did not belong to the Catalan Lands.
The PP's spokesperson in Parliament, Mabel "The Lonely Goatherd" Cabrer had consulted her history texts in being the prime mover behind the atheists. The Catalan Lands didn't exist, she maintained, because Mallorca was once a Kingdom and because Catalonia was once just a part of the Crown of Aragon. No one has ever really put forward the case for the Aragon Lands, mainly one presumes because the Aragonese aren't that bothered. In a way of course, she is right. Mallorca was swallowed up by the Crown of Aragon as well until it was finally and definitively made an Un-Crown under the Nueva Planta of the early eighteenth century, a move which has meant that Mallorca and the Balearics (save for the times when the British were in residence on Menorca and also, one might add, when the French were occupying) have, for three centuries, been Spanish and nothing but Spanish.
The debate about the Catalan Lands, daft though it might seem, does have a serious side to it. If the Parliament were to decide that the Balearics do indeed belong to the Catalan Lands, then, if only in theory, the Balearics might find themselves part of a greater Catalonia, assuming that Catalonia were to become independent. This, the claims of Catalonia, is one of the reasons why President Bauzá and others have such a big downer on Catalonia and therefore Catalan. But such a parliamentary decision would fly in the face of popular opinion. As pointed out previously, a sense of identity with the Catalan Lands among the Balearics' people is all but non-existent. About as non-existent as the Catalan Lands themselves. Possibly.
You will be delighted to know how wisely taxpayer money is spent on parliament and parliamentary debate, because this week the Balearic Parliament has been considering where or to what the Balearics belong. On the face of it, the answer to the question is pretty simple. For quite a number of years now the Balearics have belonged to Spain. Once the British were finally booted out of Menorca, over 200 years ago, there hasn't been much argument about the fact that the Balearics, all of the islands, are Spanish.
But hold on, what am I saying? Arguments there are, and arguments there were among our honourable friends in Parliament. And these arguments centred on the pretender to Balearics' possession. Which is? No, not is, but are. The Catalan Lands. Yep, Parliament has been debating whether or not the Balearics belong to these Lands and presumably not therefore to Spain.
Just one of the problems with this debate was a fairly crucial one. As some honourable friends - you won't be surprised to learn that they were from the Partido Popular - disputed the very existence of the Catalan Lands, it was difficult to hold a debate. How can one debate the claim that the Balearics belong to the Catalan Lands when there is no such thing as the Catalan Lands? There again, there are any number of people who are prepared to argue that God doesn't exist but will still insist on debating this non-existence rather than saying that because they don't believe in God's existence, there isn't a great deal of point arguing about it.
While the Catalan Lands may in fact only be an abstract or mythical concept, the fact that they are nebulous is no obstacle to wasting time in Parliament discussing something which doesn't exist, especially when there are others who believe in the God of the Catalan Lands. All the parliamentary deputies, more or less, who are not with the PP are, at the very least, prepared to countenance the possibility of the Lands' existence. So, there they were, debate lines drawn between Catalan Lands atheists, some of an agnostic tendency and others who follow the faith.
In purely linguistic terms, there are - and even the PP have to concede this - certain regions where Catalan or a variant thereof is spoken. The Balearics form one such region. (I don't know why I'm telling you this, as I would presume you realise this, but whatever.) Speaking the lingo or a type of the lingo isn't quite the same thing as there being a "Catalan Lands" though, because as a concept this has a political and historical background. And it was the politics that went to the heart of the debate. Eventually, Parliament (i.e. the PP because of its majority) decided that the Balearics did not belong to the Catalan Lands.
The PP's spokesperson in Parliament, Mabel "The Lonely Goatherd" Cabrer had consulted her history texts in being the prime mover behind the atheists. The Catalan Lands didn't exist, she maintained, because Mallorca was once a Kingdom and because Catalonia was once just a part of the Crown of Aragon. No one has ever really put forward the case for the Aragon Lands, mainly one presumes because the Aragonese aren't that bothered. In a way of course, she is right. Mallorca was swallowed up by the Crown of Aragon as well until it was finally and definitively made an Un-Crown under the Nueva Planta of the early eighteenth century, a move which has meant that Mallorca and the Balearics (save for the times when the British were in residence on Menorca and also, one might add, when the French were occupying) have, for three centuries, been Spanish and nothing but Spanish.
The debate about the Catalan Lands, daft though it might seem, does have a serious side to it. If the Parliament were to decide that the Balearics do indeed belong to the Catalan Lands, then, if only in theory, the Balearics might find themselves part of a greater Catalonia, assuming that Catalonia were to become independent. This, the claims of Catalonia, is one of the reasons why President Bauzá and others have such a big downer on Catalonia and therefore Catalan. But such a parliamentary decision would fly in the face of popular opinion. As pointed out previously, a sense of identity with the Catalan Lands among the Balearics' people is all but non-existent. About as non-existent as the Catalan Lands themselves. Possibly.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Representation Of The People?: Balearics Parliament
President Bauzá wishes to reduce the number of deputies in the Balearic parliament from 59 to 41. Good for President Bauzá. It all sounds terribly sensible. Lop a few MPs off and save a few million euros into the bargain. But why stop at eighteen? Why do the Balearics need 41 deputies let alone the 59 that there are at present?
59 deputies mean one for almost 19,000 people on the islands. 41 would increase this ratio to one per 27,000. 59, 41, either might sound a lot, but are they? And who is to say or decide if they are a lot? Bauzá obviously thinks 59 are too many, but cutting the number to 41 wouldn't make a huge difference to the overall ranking of the autonomous regions of Spain and the ratios between their populations and numbers of parliamentary deputies. The Balearics are currently in twelfth spot (out of 17). The change to 41 would mean a rise to tenth, but so what?
There is considerable variance between the regions as to the sizes of their respective parliamentary representations. Catalonia has the most deputies (135) but the ratio is one deputy per 54,500 people, significantly lower than Andalusia (109 deputies) and a ratio of one per 75,000. The closest to the Balearics in terms of number of deputies are the Canary Islands. They have 60 deputies, but the ratio is almost double because the total population of the Canaries is almost double that of the Balearics.
So why this inconsistency? Indeed, how did the number of deputies ever come to be decided upon? And why, in the Balearics, are there 33 deputies (55% of them) for Mallorca when Mallorca has 80% of the islands' total population?
The answer to these questions is that there aren't really any answers. Not hard and fast ones at any rate. The basis for forming "constituencies" (used in a loose sense, as there are no constituencies as would be understood in the UK) was, in the case of the Balearics, the four islands, three of which were granted multi-deputy representation. Formentera has only ever had one MP. Arriving at the number of deputies in Mallorca, Menorca and Ibiza mirrored, in essence, the system applied nationally for determining "constituencies", i.e. they were assigned on a territorial-population basis but, as noted by Paul Heywood, professor of European politics at the University of Nottingham, "without any guiding orientation". In other words, they just picked a number out of a hat.
That's a trivialisation of course but it's not a million miles away from how the decision as to the number of deputies was arrived at. Roughly speaking, very roughly, whatever guiding orientation there has or hasn't been has placed representation in the various regional parliaments at one deputy for every 40,000 people. As might be observed, 40,000 have been interpreted very liberally in the Balearics.
Bauzá's trimming of the number of deputies has been met with outrage by the usual suspects, namely anyone who or any party which opposes him. The loss of 18 deputies diminishes democracy, it takes government further away from the people, it is a move towards centralisation of government. None of this opposition makes any sense, partly because the basis for the number of deputies has never made a great deal of sense but especially because an increase of 9,000 people per deputy is neither here nor here. Bear in mind that these deputies represent political parties, they don't represent specific parts of the islands (though those in the lesser-represented islands might be said to). They aren't close to the people, they are just elected; on the basis of little more than a calculation made on the back of a fag packet. Had Bauzá wanted to trim the number of deputies by 80% rather than 20%, the opposition arguments might be worth listening to, but he doesn't want to do this. He is proposing a rationalisation that few rational observers could argue against.
There is a question that goes beyond the mysterious way in which the Balearics ended up with 59 MPs. It is rather more fundamental than how many deputies there are. It is this - what do they actually do? Representation of the people should be a given, and no one would seriously oppose that idea other than old-guard anti-parliamentarian fascists, but as the deputies don't represent specific towns, who actually do they represent?
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
59 deputies mean one for almost 19,000 people on the islands. 41 would increase this ratio to one per 27,000. 59, 41, either might sound a lot, but are they? And who is to say or decide if they are a lot? Bauzá obviously thinks 59 are too many, but cutting the number to 41 wouldn't make a huge difference to the overall ranking of the autonomous regions of Spain and the ratios between their populations and numbers of parliamentary deputies. The Balearics are currently in twelfth spot (out of 17). The change to 41 would mean a rise to tenth, but so what?
There is considerable variance between the regions as to the sizes of their respective parliamentary representations. Catalonia has the most deputies (135) but the ratio is one deputy per 54,500 people, significantly lower than Andalusia (109 deputies) and a ratio of one per 75,000. The closest to the Balearics in terms of number of deputies are the Canary Islands. They have 60 deputies, but the ratio is almost double because the total population of the Canaries is almost double that of the Balearics.
So why this inconsistency? Indeed, how did the number of deputies ever come to be decided upon? And why, in the Balearics, are there 33 deputies (55% of them) for Mallorca when Mallorca has 80% of the islands' total population?
The answer to these questions is that there aren't really any answers. Not hard and fast ones at any rate. The basis for forming "constituencies" (used in a loose sense, as there are no constituencies as would be understood in the UK) was, in the case of the Balearics, the four islands, three of which were granted multi-deputy representation. Formentera has only ever had one MP. Arriving at the number of deputies in Mallorca, Menorca and Ibiza mirrored, in essence, the system applied nationally for determining "constituencies", i.e. they were assigned on a territorial-population basis but, as noted by Paul Heywood, professor of European politics at the University of Nottingham, "without any guiding orientation". In other words, they just picked a number out of a hat.
That's a trivialisation of course but it's not a million miles away from how the decision as to the number of deputies was arrived at. Roughly speaking, very roughly, whatever guiding orientation there has or hasn't been has placed representation in the various regional parliaments at one deputy for every 40,000 people. As might be observed, 40,000 have been interpreted very liberally in the Balearics.
Bauzá's trimming of the number of deputies has been met with outrage by the usual suspects, namely anyone who or any party which opposes him. The loss of 18 deputies diminishes democracy, it takes government further away from the people, it is a move towards centralisation of government. None of this opposition makes any sense, partly because the basis for the number of deputies has never made a great deal of sense but especially because an increase of 9,000 people per deputy is neither here nor here. Bear in mind that these deputies represent political parties, they don't represent specific parts of the islands (though those in the lesser-represented islands might be said to). They aren't close to the people, they are just elected; on the basis of little more than a calculation made on the back of a fag packet. Had Bauzá wanted to trim the number of deputies by 80% rather than 20%, the opposition arguments might be worth listening to, but he doesn't want to do this. He is proposing a rationalisation that few rational observers could argue against.
There is a question that goes beyond the mysterious way in which the Balearics ended up with 59 MPs. It is rather more fundamental than how many deputies there are. It is this - what do they actually do? Representation of the people should be a given, and no one would seriously oppose that idea other than old-guard anti-parliamentarian fascists, but as the deputies don't represent specific towns, who actually do they represent?
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
MALLORCA TODAY - Balearic parliament speaker resigns because of corruption case
Pere Rotger (Partido Popular), the speaker of the Balearic parliament, has today resigned following the refusal of the judge, José Castro, to remove the indictment against him in respect of alleged corruption stemming from the so-called "caso Over" which has to do with the irregular financing of the PP during the 2003-2007 government of Jaume Matas.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
MALLORCA TODAY - Palma becomes Palma de Mallorca legally
The Balearic parliament has approved a change to the law of "Capitalidad" (which can only mean capital city law, though why there has to be one is anyone's guess) which means that Palma will now be known as Palma de Mallorca. So legally ends one, even by Mallorcan standards, bizarre argument.
See more: El Mundo
See more: El Mundo
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