So, a very merry Christmas to all of you who come here regularly, to those of you who come less frequently, and to others who just stumble across this blog. Twelve years it has been going, and it has been ten years since it went daily, which it has been except for the occasional break, both planned and unplanned. I sometimes wonder if I hold some sort of record.
Not wishing to have my own Christmas message, which would be somewhat presumptuous and indeed preposterous, just a note about King Felipe's. His tone regarding Catalonia moderated yesterday evening; he had been forceful in October in condemning the independence drive. While he referred yesterday to the need to adapt to changing times, he obviously wasn't advocating secession, but there was a hint of recognition that there has to be some move towards a satisfactory accord. Whether there can be will be up to the politicians, and news that there could be further arrests in Catalonia makes one fear that the situation will just be made worse.
Regardless of constitutional and legal matters, putting politicians (and potentially the former head of the Mossos) in jail solves nothing and merely inflames. Felipe was alluding to a maturity in approach. Sticking people in jail is not mature; it is a manifestation of failure - by those on both sides of the argument. And the swiftness with which "justice" has been dispensed raises awkward questions. The comparison with the otherwise slow-moving nature of the legal system - e.g. Urdangarin still awaiting the outcome of his appeal - has been striking.
A Christmas wish would therefore be to resolve Catalonia. But can it be resolved, once and for all? I very much doubt it.
Showing posts with label Catalonia crisis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Catalonia crisis. Show all posts
Monday, December 25, 2017
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
What Is The Alternative, Carles?
The significance of the presence of Carles Puigdemont in Brussels goes beyond the fact that it is the seat of power for a confederated institution which has proved to be toothless in face of political crisis in one of its constituent member states. Brussels is the capital of a country with one of the more peculiar structures in the EU. What is Belgium? Like Spain it is a kingdom. Like Spain it has its cultural and linguistic differences and tensions. Unlike Spain these are even more influential and divisive. The Flemings and the Walloons are essentially separate peoples. Their political affiliations and the pressures for separatism, especially in Flanders, have created a country that in a sense is a country in name alone. It is a form of federal state but one with an appearance of the confederated state - the centre is basically subordinate to the constituent parts, which is the theory under which the European Union operates: theory if not always practice.
Carles Puigdemont was interviewed by the French-speaking Le Soir. This in itself was symbolic. French has far more in common with Catalan than Dutch does. In Belgium, as in Spain, there is a linguistic choice to be made. The language speaks volumes, and it shouts on behalf of one form of political structure or another. In Catalan, however, this isn't as sharply defined as it is with the Flemings. Carles Puigdemont knows this, even if he might not admit it. Mariano Rajoy most certainly knows this. The silent majority will come forth and let their voice be heard four days before Christmas. So he hopes.
Puigdemont revealed to Le Soir that he is not averse to "another relationship with Spain". This would be an "alternative to independence". Back in Barcelona, there would have been the sound of ardent supporters of independence muttering dark comments about a Puigdemont vacillation or climb-down. To others, it might just have sounded like a rare dose of reality creeping into the unreal monster of ill-defined confusion that Puigdemont has helped to create.
But what was he talking about? The independence declaration has some comparisons with Brexit. A total lack of preparedness followed by a search for something meaningful, the need to extract a solution from the havoc caused by the ignorance of consequences. Brexit, replete with its absurd posturing and with its path littered with the jibes, aspirations and ambitions of chancers such as Johnson, stumbles daily more deeply into an intellectual abyss of the unknowing. The extraction of solutions is hindered by mutual exclusivity. Likewise, Catalonia. Until, for both problems, someone ventures the possibility of a third-way solution. Ventures it but can't define it.
A solution of sorts is federalism. But what is federalism? It operates in numerous states, yet even in that most federal of nations, the United States, it has never truly been defined. The Balearics president has made many a reference to a federal model for Spain, but what does she take this to mean? What does Pedro Sánchez, the national leader of PSOE, take it to mean? He is also an advocate, but one never learns what this would look like, what this would be.
The point is that Spain already bears many of the hallmarks of the federal state. At its most basic level it means the sharing of power between the state and its components. Crucially, however, there is the money angle. Can the Catalonia crisis be styled as the result of a disagreement over tax-raising powers? Some will argue that it can be and that had Madrid been more amenable and granted Catalonia a Basque-type arrangement, the independence movement would have been nipped in the bud.
But this is too simplistic. Puigdemont has highlighted the fact that in 2010 the Constitutional Court invalidated certain articles in the Catalonia statute of autonomy. At that time, there were a mere fourteen members of the Catalan parliament who were fervent supporters of independence. Yet he too is being simplistic. What then happened was that Artur Mas, needing to prop up his presidency and under assault for austerity measures, took a risk with an election. This signalled the sea change, as also did the emergence of the alternative parties. Independence took on new life, with Mas committing himself to it because he had no other choice but to, if he wanted to stay in power.
Now that Catalonia and Spain are where they are, the genie can't be put back. There has to be a viable solution. Politicians cannot be allowed to wallow in prison; this is an obscenity. But what possible accord or alternative is attainable? Rajoy is speaking about Constitutional reform to return powers to the state. He has fired a broadside against his own foreign affairs minister, Alfonso Dastis, who has intimated that a different type of reform - one that potentially recognises independence if the vote on 21 December were to hint at this - could be possible.
An alternative, but what sort? Rajoy seems ever less inclined to consider a more sharply defined federal regime or even a confederation which would enfeeble the central government. Carles, what are you talking about?
Carles Puigdemont was interviewed by the French-speaking Le Soir. This in itself was symbolic. French has far more in common with Catalan than Dutch does. In Belgium, as in Spain, there is a linguistic choice to be made. The language speaks volumes, and it shouts on behalf of one form of political structure or another. In Catalan, however, this isn't as sharply defined as it is with the Flemings. Carles Puigdemont knows this, even if he might not admit it. Mariano Rajoy most certainly knows this. The silent majority will come forth and let their voice be heard four days before Christmas. So he hopes.
Puigdemont revealed to Le Soir that he is not averse to "another relationship with Spain". This would be an "alternative to independence". Back in Barcelona, there would have been the sound of ardent supporters of independence muttering dark comments about a Puigdemont vacillation or climb-down. To others, it might just have sounded like a rare dose of reality creeping into the unreal monster of ill-defined confusion that Puigdemont has helped to create.
But what was he talking about? The independence declaration has some comparisons with Brexit. A total lack of preparedness followed by a search for something meaningful, the need to extract a solution from the havoc caused by the ignorance of consequences. Brexit, replete with its absurd posturing and with its path littered with the jibes, aspirations and ambitions of chancers such as Johnson, stumbles daily more deeply into an intellectual abyss of the unknowing. The extraction of solutions is hindered by mutual exclusivity. Likewise, Catalonia. Until, for both problems, someone ventures the possibility of a third-way solution. Ventures it but can't define it.
A solution of sorts is federalism. But what is federalism? It operates in numerous states, yet even in that most federal of nations, the United States, it has never truly been defined. The Balearics president has made many a reference to a federal model for Spain, but what does she take this to mean? What does Pedro Sánchez, the national leader of PSOE, take it to mean? He is also an advocate, but one never learns what this would look like, what this would be.
The point is that Spain already bears many of the hallmarks of the federal state. At its most basic level it means the sharing of power between the state and its components. Crucially, however, there is the money angle. Can the Catalonia crisis be styled as the result of a disagreement over tax-raising powers? Some will argue that it can be and that had Madrid been more amenable and granted Catalonia a Basque-type arrangement, the independence movement would have been nipped in the bud.
But this is too simplistic. Puigdemont has highlighted the fact that in 2010 the Constitutional Court invalidated certain articles in the Catalonia statute of autonomy. At that time, there were a mere fourteen members of the Catalan parliament who were fervent supporters of independence. Yet he too is being simplistic. What then happened was that Artur Mas, needing to prop up his presidency and under assault for austerity measures, took a risk with an election. This signalled the sea change, as also did the emergence of the alternative parties. Independence took on new life, with Mas committing himself to it because he had no other choice but to, if he wanted to stay in power.
Now that Catalonia and Spain are where they are, the genie can't be put back. There has to be a viable solution. Politicians cannot be allowed to wallow in prison; this is an obscenity. But what possible accord or alternative is attainable? Rajoy is speaking about Constitutional reform to return powers to the state. He has fired a broadside against his own foreign affairs minister, Alfonso Dastis, who has intimated that a different type of reform - one that potentially recognises independence if the vote on 21 December were to hint at this - could be possible.
An alternative, but what sort? Rajoy seems ever less inclined to consider a more sharply defined federal regime or even a confederation which would enfeeble the central government. Carles, what are you talking about?
Monday, November 13, 2017
Lonely This Christmas Without Catalonia
Álvaro Nadal, the national minister for tourism, energy and the digital agenda, needed to have a good World Travel Market. Here was an opportunity for him to shine in the eyes of any Spaniards who were taking any notice of what was going on in London, which admittedly probably wasn't that many. But the opportunity was presented nonetheless, and Señor Nadal, Mister Christmas, was insisting, among other things, that elections in Catalonia four days before Christmas will help in restoring Catalonia to normality. Most importantly, given that he was at a travel fair, this normality will mean that the streets and hotels of Barcelona are full to overflowing.
Well, he might hope that this is the case, but omens at present don't offer quite the same level of hope. It may well be lonely this Christmas in Catalonia, lonelier still for those who remain incarcerated, and lonely for Mister Christmas if there isn't the hoped-for rebound. You see, Señor Nadal has a slight perception difficulty. One among the citizens. The latest "barometer" of public political opinion placed him rank bottom of all Spain's minister. He had even managed to fall below the chap in charge of the money (and the taxes), Cristóbal Montoro, the Count of the Mount of Gold, for whom last place is normally and deservedly reserved.
What Mister Christmas really needed of course was a pick-me-up in the form of a celebrity rock singer. And where there's a cause, there's normally the frontman for U2. Bono, in all likelihood, will have allied himself with the Pamela Anderson camp in defence of Catalan democracy (what with Ireland and all that), but a bit of a stardust, even of the opposition variety, can work wonders for a minister's ailing approval rating.
So, for a fleeting moment it appeared that Bono, minus The Edge, had cut along to Docklands with the intention of providing the world with his thoughts on the Catalan situation. Unfortunately, the moment was indeed only fleeting. Bono wasn't Bono. He was Octavi Bono, the director-general of tourism in Catalonia and one of the few people in the Catalan administration to not find him or herself in chokey. Things, Bono told Mister Christmas, could have been done better. Which even a member of the Spanish government would surely admit. He, Bono, then went on to hint that information regarding a dramatic fall in visitor numbers was some form of Rajoy government fake news.
Mister Christmas was thus denied the boost to his approval rating, and he wandered off as the muzak at the World Travel Market didn't mangle Elvis but instead trampled all over U2 - "I can't live, with or without you".
Oh Catalonia.
Well, he might hope that this is the case, but omens at present don't offer quite the same level of hope. It may well be lonely this Christmas in Catalonia, lonelier still for those who remain incarcerated, and lonely for Mister Christmas if there isn't the hoped-for rebound. You see, Señor Nadal has a slight perception difficulty. One among the citizens. The latest "barometer" of public political opinion placed him rank bottom of all Spain's minister. He had even managed to fall below the chap in charge of the money (and the taxes), Cristóbal Montoro, the Count of the Mount of Gold, for whom last place is normally and deservedly reserved.
What Mister Christmas really needed of course was a pick-me-up in the form of a celebrity rock singer. And where there's a cause, there's normally the frontman for U2. Bono, in all likelihood, will have allied himself with the Pamela Anderson camp in defence of Catalan democracy (what with Ireland and all that), but a bit of a stardust, even of the opposition variety, can work wonders for a minister's ailing approval rating.
So, for a fleeting moment it appeared that Bono, minus The Edge, had cut along to Docklands with the intention of providing the world with his thoughts on the Catalan situation. Unfortunately, the moment was indeed only fleeting. Bono wasn't Bono. He was Octavi Bono, the director-general of tourism in Catalonia and one of the few people in the Catalan administration to not find him or herself in chokey. Things, Bono told Mister Christmas, could have been done better. Which even a member of the Spanish government would surely admit. He, Bono, then went on to hint that information regarding a dramatic fall in visitor numbers was some form of Rajoy government fake news.
Mister Christmas was thus denied the boost to his approval rating, and he wandered off as the muzak at the World Travel Market didn't mangle Elvis but instead trampled all over U2 - "I can't live, with or without you".
Oh Catalonia.
Sunday, November 05, 2017
The Rubicon Crossed
It was January 49BC. Julius Caesar, who had been governor of the province of Spain, was now the the governor of a region that encompassed southern Gaul and Illyricum. With the period of his governorship ending, he was ordered back to Rome and to disband his army. He didn't. Instead he took the 13th legion across the Rubicon, an act that was considered to be insurrection and treason. As the army marched across the shallow river, he supposedly uttered the words "alea iacta est" - the die is cast.
When was the Rubicon crossed? Was it on 1 October when the referendum was held? Was it when independence was declared? Was it when they started sending people to prison? The story of the Rubicon has come to mean the point of no return. The die is cast. There is no going back. Carles Puigdemont spends his time in Brussels coffee houses and on foreign television. He will eventually come back, but is there any going back for him, for Catalonia, for Spain? Puigdemont, the Catalan Caesar, sought for insurrection and treason.
At the time when it looked as the chief of the Mossos, Josep Lluís Trapero, might be sent to prison, I remarked to someone that it would represent a crossing of the Rubicon. You don't start sending people to prison. Regardless of all that has happened and is happening, once that step is taken, moral authority begins to crumble. Legal authority may apply, but this is not the same as moral authority. Especially not in supposed western democratic societies.
And under whose authority? Do we praise the independence of the Spanish judiciary in pursuing prosecutions of a type unheard of since the failed coup of 1981? Can we compare the insurrection of Antonio Tejero Molina with that of Carles Puigdemont? Or has this independence been compromised, as has been suggested on previous occasions? Is there some justification in the characterisation of those incarcerated as political prisoners? Western democratic societies don't do or shouldn't do political prisoners.
José Miguel Monzón Navarro goes under the stage name of El Gran Wyoming. He fronts a show on La Sexta that looks at the day's news. He walked off set the other day, saying that he refused to continue with the programme. "I will not continue presenting it until Spain returns to sanity." Oriol Junqueras and others had been sent to jail. For El Gran Wyoming, the Rubicon had been crossed. He did, however, return a few minutes later.
His statement and action was nonetheless meaningful. Spain has been gripped by an insanity. It is the underlying madness which refuses to mature and to cast aside the past. It constantly hankers after its history. It is incapable of adjusting to democratic realities, even after forty and more years. I'm not defending Puigdemont, I'm not defending independence, but I am defending the cause of democratic maturity. Both sides are to blame for their juvenile behaviour.
But attaining this maturity, it seems increasingly clear, is inhibited by the very democratic fundamentals of the Spanish (and Catalan) political system. Puigdemont, the accidental president, a creation of his own belief in independence, might nevertheless chosen not to have crossed his own personal Rubicon. To what extent was he hounded towards a defiance of the Senate by the consequences of political alliance and the need for support from sources that veer in the direction of anarchy? To what degree was he pushed by the timeline from Artur Mas and his misjudged election that was held in an attempt to shore up declining popularity because of austerity policies and by his subsequent reach for the independence lifeline in order to save him?
We can all play the history game of centuries and decades past, but there were far more recent dynamics that unleashed the eventual insurrection. And these dynamics, reflected for example in the Balearics, have exposed proportional representation as a device for the tyranny of the minority. In the Balearics, Més in Menorca, with their all but fewer than 7,000 votes at the last election, recognised the independent republic of Catalonia. They are beyond contempt for their inflated sense of self-importance.
But this is how it is. And now that the Rubicon has been crossed, is the die cast for all time? Where is the going back? The metaphor with Caesar ends with the very act of crossing the river. Caesar marched on Rome. Puigdemont is marching nowhere other than to a likely prison cell, a further martyr to a process for which both he and Rajoy are ill-equipped. He got to the other side, only to stumble backwards, drowning in the shallowness of the springs of democracy.
When was the Rubicon crossed? Was it on 1 October when the referendum was held? Was it when independence was declared? Was it when they started sending people to prison? The story of the Rubicon has come to mean the point of no return. The die is cast. There is no going back. Carles Puigdemont spends his time in Brussels coffee houses and on foreign television. He will eventually come back, but is there any going back for him, for Catalonia, for Spain? Puigdemont, the Catalan Caesar, sought for insurrection and treason.
At the time when it looked as the chief of the Mossos, Josep Lluís Trapero, might be sent to prison, I remarked to someone that it would represent a crossing of the Rubicon. You don't start sending people to prison. Regardless of all that has happened and is happening, once that step is taken, moral authority begins to crumble. Legal authority may apply, but this is not the same as moral authority. Especially not in supposed western democratic societies.
And under whose authority? Do we praise the independence of the Spanish judiciary in pursuing prosecutions of a type unheard of since the failed coup of 1981? Can we compare the insurrection of Antonio Tejero Molina with that of Carles Puigdemont? Or has this independence been compromised, as has been suggested on previous occasions? Is there some justification in the characterisation of those incarcerated as political prisoners? Western democratic societies don't do or shouldn't do political prisoners.
José Miguel Monzón Navarro goes under the stage name of El Gran Wyoming. He fronts a show on La Sexta that looks at the day's news. He walked off set the other day, saying that he refused to continue with the programme. "I will not continue presenting it until Spain returns to sanity." Oriol Junqueras and others had been sent to jail. For El Gran Wyoming, the Rubicon had been crossed. He did, however, return a few minutes later.
His statement and action was nonetheless meaningful. Spain has been gripped by an insanity. It is the underlying madness which refuses to mature and to cast aside the past. It constantly hankers after its history. It is incapable of adjusting to democratic realities, even after forty and more years. I'm not defending Puigdemont, I'm not defending independence, but I am defending the cause of democratic maturity. Both sides are to blame for their juvenile behaviour.
But attaining this maturity, it seems increasingly clear, is inhibited by the very democratic fundamentals of the Spanish (and Catalan) political system. Puigdemont, the accidental president, a creation of his own belief in independence, might nevertheless chosen not to have crossed his own personal Rubicon. To what extent was he hounded towards a defiance of the Senate by the consequences of political alliance and the need for support from sources that veer in the direction of anarchy? To what degree was he pushed by the timeline from Artur Mas and his misjudged election that was held in an attempt to shore up declining popularity because of austerity policies and by his subsequent reach for the independence lifeline in order to save him?
We can all play the history game of centuries and decades past, but there were far more recent dynamics that unleashed the eventual insurrection. And these dynamics, reflected for example in the Balearics, have exposed proportional representation as a device for the tyranny of the minority. In the Balearics, Més in Menorca, with their all but fewer than 7,000 votes at the last election, recognised the independent republic of Catalonia. They are beyond contempt for their inflated sense of self-importance.
But this is how it is. And now that the Rubicon has been crossed, is the die cast for all time? Where is the going back? The metaphor with Caesar ends with the very act of crossing the river. Caesar marched on Rome. Puigdemont is marching nowhere other than to a likely prison cell, a further martyr to a process for which both he and Rajoy are ill-equipped. He got to the other side, only to stumble backwards, drowning in the shallowness of the springs of democracy.
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