In the space of almost eight months I have watched six investiture debates. At the sixth time of asking there was a result, if you can call forming a government with a minority just shy of forty per cent a result. At the sixth attempt, therefore, something finally gave. The mould was broken, although it had been cast differently for debates five and six. There was an alternative cast member. PSOE's Antonio Hernando had moved along one seat. By the sixth debate, two days after the fifth, there was an empty seat. Tearfully, Pedro Sánchez had decided it was best not to turn up. How things had changed. At the start of the eight months - for debates one and two - he would have been crowned, if only in his dreams.
The lachrymose Sánchez was the prelude to debate six. It might have overshadowed what was to follow, had it not been pre-destined for Mariano Rajoy to be reinstalled as prime minister. Debate six was the big noise in town. Sánchez was a weepy diversion, he insisting that he is not finished, that he will seek the recuperation of PSOE. If he does, it will be a tough ask. There's life still in the body socialist but it's in intensive care not knowing if it will emerge intact or be permanently fractured.
There were big noises and bigger noises. Several thousand had gathered to surround Congress. The protest was allowed. Not even Rajoy's wretched law could prevent it being given clearance. That law, the gagging one, was just one reason for the thousands to have gathered. Other reasons ... . Well, by now we all know the reasons, while the several thousands were having none of the carve-up by the "mafias" inside Congress. Alas for Cuidadanos, ten years young, it has been branded thus alongside the much older mafias of the PP and PSOE. It was politicians from the C's for whom the greatest jeers were reserved.
Inside Congress there were various bursts of big noise. Cheers, heckles, one of the biggest came at half-time, prior to the actual vote, when the stewards looked as if they might have been required to keep the factions apart. The PP's Rafael Hernando, who had upset Podemos so much during debate five with his four million dollar Venezuelan accusation, was in discussion with Iglesias and Errejón. Surprisingly, it didn't look as unfriendly as might have been expected.
There again, Iglesias came out of debate six with an enormous amount of credit. His speech obliterated all others. Its passion was exceptional. Iglesias is enormously impressive, and when he spoke about the need for a young and new Spain, one couldn't help but contrast the informality of Podemos (in their attire) and the stiffness of the suit-wearing ranks of the PP and indeed PSOE. What was most impressive was that he didn't resort to name-calling. His was a speech for the future, of a politician growing in stature. There may be differences within his party, but Iglesias and Podemos are not going away. Indeed, they will believe their role is ever more crucial now.
Although Iglesias and his Podemos colleagues were to applaud his intervention, the speech of the Catalonia Republican Left's Gabriel Rufián was deserving of none. It was not as if he didn't have valid points, but it was the language he used that set him well apart from Iglesias. This was the oafishness of a students' union activist not the discourse of a Congress politician. His walk to the lectern spoke volumes. He passed the ranks of the PP glowering and with the swagger of a football hooligan. At the end, he even argued with the referee - the president of the house (speaker), Ana Pastor - who switched off his mike because he had gone over time. Before doing so, though, he had reprimanded PSOE for their kowtowing to a "cacique", for their being traitors to socialism. They should be ashamed. Yes, he had valid points, but the delivery was odious. Antonio Hernando, scandalised, said that Rufián had spoken with "odio" - hate. Rufián had lived up to more than just his name. He was a disgrace.
It was a minor player who was to offer the strongest rebuke to Rufián. The diminutive Ana Oramas from the Canaries was not easy to understand - the accent is pronounced - but there was no mistaking her distaste for the disrespect Rufián had shown the house as well as PSOE. He shouldn't behave in such a juvenile way. There was big noise of applause.
And finally, when the voting was over and the result was announced, there was no big noise from PSOE. They didn't applaud Rajoy. He had won the day but there are many other days to come. He needs to show magnanimity, he needs to prove that he is capable of dialogue. If he can't, debates seven and eight might occur sooner than he would hope.
Index for October 2016
Agriculture and tourism - 11 October 2016
Airbnb and hoteliers - 1 October 2016
All-inclusives - 8 October 2015
Balearic government - 10 October 2016
Bullying - 21 October 2016
Caso Gürtel - 7 October 2016
Ecotourism and sustainability - 18 October 2016
Fornalutx and prettiest villages - 28 October 2016
Havaneres - 9 October 2016
Hiking and the history of excursions - 3 October 2016
Holiday prices - 5 October 2016, 29 October 2016
Imserso holidays - 15 October 2016
Land plans in Mallorca - 25 October 2016
Museum of Water - 6 October 2016
Pebre bord pepper - 23 October 2016
Pep v. Pepsi - 14 October 2016
PSOE crisis - 2 October 2016, 4 October 2016
Rajoy investiture - 19 October 2016, 31 October 2016
Rock music in Mallorca - 30 October 2016
Saturation, sustainability and employment - 22 October 2016, 26 October 2016
Spain's National Day - 13 October 2016
Theatres - 16 October 2016
Tourism minister for Spain - 20 October 2016. 24 October 2016
Tramuntana fairs - 12 October 2016
UFOs - 27 October 2016
Xelo Huertas in Rome - 17 October 2016
Showing posts with label Investiture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Investiture. Show all posts
Monday, October 31, 2016
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Andalusia's Gambit: Investiture Or Not
Andalusia. A region apart but a region very much a part. Where would Spain have been without Andalusia? Arguments can rage about the origins of flamenco - and they do - but it is Andalusia which takes the honour. The vibrancy of the dance and music helped to make Spain. In the eyes of the world, it was Andalusia which captured the essence of the new tourism. The Costa del Sol, curiously enough, wasn't a focus for the first wave, but Andalusia had exported its vivaciousness, its difference, and it changed Spain forever.
Andalusia may be on the point of changing Spain again. Or is it that it will put it back together? The most that Andalusia might do is reshape Spain's politics. That mould has already been undergoing manipulation, being twisted and distorted by new hands ready to render the old hands redundant. There is further manufacture afoot or in hand. This is breaking the mould of PSOE. Or is it that the mould returns to its original factory settings, not those of times long ago but of times more recent. These were contented times before the new hands started making light work of the outmoded shape PSOE had contorted itself into in peculiar antagonistic alliance with the Partido Popular.
This coming Sunday may well prove to be a defining moment. PSOE's federal committee will meet. It has a choice. It can agree to facilitate the investiture of Mariano Rajoy as prime minister or it can say no to Rajoy. Which way will it go? Andalusia will be all important in the decision.
Andalusia is apart because it is the only region in Spain to have been socialist since democratic regional governments were established. Here is one aspect of its difference, a seemingly curious one, for this is a region of great culture and great cities, apparently overwhelmed by richness to match the richness of that culture. Yet it is comparatively poor. Where would Andalusia be without Spain? It does well from the regional financing system. Very well.
It has a legacy. This is the region where liberalism was born, where the Cadiz Constitution envisaged a new Spain, a more egalitarian Spain, where the fight against Bonaparte was fostered, and where there was the consequent fight against the treacherous Ferdinand VII, who destroyed that movement and condemned Spain to decades of self-destruction. The omens may not sound good.
The new liberalism is one cloaked with conservatism. Andalusia, the nation's power base for PSOE, will decide. The broker of the power is its president, Susana Díaz. Her number two, Juan Cornejo, might just have uttered a statement that will pass into common use as an aphorism. "To govern is as important as leading an opposition." It can be taken to have a double meaning, but the intent is clear. The task of governing will fall to Mariano Rajoy. The opposition, the PSOE opposition, will be empowered by this. It can facilitate investiture, but it holds the power to influence policy. It hopes. Unless it falls apart, shattered by a region apart.
Díaz and Andalusia are determined that their vision and version of PSOE continues. It is the conservative version, the cosily close to the PP version, one in the name of the nation that it (Andalusia) did so much to bring to the world's attention. The nation is important to Andalusia. Apart but a part, it needs the unity of the nation, not least the greater riches in relative terms that exist elsewhere: Catalonia, the Balearics, for instance.
PSOE in Catalonia, via its first secretary Miquel Iceta, has said that a third election would be preferable to Rajoy. He doesn't, though, see that facilitating Rajoy's investiture will rupture the party and force it apart. The Balearics' Francina Armengol, trapped by the government of her making, thinks otherwise: possibly, or even probably. Tensions could erupt into revolution on Sunday.
Andalusia and its compatriots elsewhere, such as the "managing" leader Javier Fernández of Asturias, have a cunning plan. They will allow the investiture, but it will be support-lite. Eleven deputies in Congress will be put up as the sacrificial lambs. Rajoy would therefore stagger over the finishing-line, ten months after the race started. Who could have ever thought that they might hatch such a plan? Far be it from me, but it was me. I suggested several weeks ago that Pedro Sánchez could have done just that.
But whichever way Sánchez had chosen - and it now seems as if he backed the loser - it was wrong. Or right. He was caught in the vice of his party's enfeeblement. Andalusia, if it indeed plays its eleven-hand gambit, will trust that this will be reversed by the empowerment of highly scrutinising opposition. It will trust and it will hope, but might the consequence be that there is more which is apart? PSOE itself, and never forget Catalonia.
Andalusia may be on the point of changing Spain again. Or is it that it will put it back together? The most that Andalusia might do is reshape Spain's politics. That mould has already been undergoing manipulation, being twisted and distorted by new hands ready to render the old hands redundant. There is further manufacture afoot or in hand. This is breaking the mould of PSOE. Or is it that the mould returns to its original factory settings, not those of times long ago but of times more recent. These were contented times before the new hands started making light work of the outmoded shape PSOE had contorted itself into in peculiar antagonistic alliance with the Partido Popular.
This coming Sunday may well prove to be a defining moment. PSOE's federal committee will meet. It has a choice. It can agree to facilitate the investiture of Mariano Rajoy as prime minister or it can say no to Rajoy. Which way will it go? Andalusia will be all important in the decision.
Andalusia is apart because it is the only region in Spain to have been socialist since democratic regional governments were established. Here is one aspect of its difference, a seemingly curious one, for this is a region of great culture and great cities, apparently overwhelmed by richness to match the richness of that culture. Yet it is comparatively poor. Where would Andalusia be without Spain? It does well from the regional financing system. Very well.
It has a legacy. This is the region where liberalism was born, where the Cadiz Constitution envisaged a new Spain, a more egalitarian Spain, where the fight against Bonaparte was fostered, and where there was the consequent fight against the treacherous Ferdinand VII, who destroyed that movement and condemned Spain to decades of self-destruction. The omens may not sound good.
The new liberalism is one cloaked with conservatism. Andalusia, the nation's power base for PSOE, will decide. The broker of the power is its president, Susana Díaz. Her number two, Juan Cornejo, might just have uttered a statement that will pass into common use as an aphorism. "To govern is as important as leading an opposition." It can be taken to have a double meaning, but the intent is clear. The task of governing will fall to Mariano Rajoy. The opposition, the PSOE opposition, will be empowered by this. It can facilitate investiture, but it holds the power to influence policy. It hopes. Unless it falls apart, shattered by a region apart.
Díaz and Andalusia are determined that their vision and version of PSOE continues. It is the conservative version, the cosily close to the PP version, one in the name of the nation that it (Andalusia) did so much to bring to the world's attention. The nation is important to Andalusia. Apart but a part, it needs the unity of the nation, not least the greater riches in relative terms that exist elsewhere: Catalonia, the Balearics, for instance.
PSOE in Catalonia, via its first secretary Miquel Iceta, has said that a third election would be preferable to Rajoy. He doesn't, though, see that facilitating Rajoy's investiture will rupture the party and force it apart. The Balearics' Francina Armengol, trapped by the government of her making, thinks otherwise: possibly, or even probably. Tensions could erupt into revolution on Sunday.
Andalusia and its compatriots elsewhere, such as the "managing" leader Javier Fernández of Asturias, have a cunning plan. They will allow the investiture, but it will be support-lite. Eleven deputies in Congress will be put up as the sacrificial lambs. Rajoy would therefore stagger over the finishing-line, ten months after the race started. Who could have ever thought that they might hatch such a plan? Far be it from me, but it was me. I suggested several weeks ago that Pedro Sánchez could have done just that.
But whichever way Sánchez had chosen - and it now seems as if he backed the loser - it was wrong. Or right. He was caught in the vice of his party's enfeeblement. Andalusia, if it indeed plays its eleven-hand gambit, will trust that this will be reversed by the empowerment of highly scrutinising opposition. It will trust and it will hope, but might the consequence be that there is more which is apart? PSOE itself, and never forget Catalonia.
Monday, September 05, 2016
The Coconuts Of Congress
Well done, Mariano. Bravo, Pedro. Congratulations, Albert. Hats off, Pablo. The boys done great. Here's to Election Number Three. The Guinness Book of World Records awaits. The most consecutive elections to not return a government. Democracy doesn't get any better.
At least you can say that Mariano got closer than Pedro did. The 180 that beat his 170 was vastly more impressive than the stuffing that Sánchez had incurred after Election Number One. And we were, as previously, rewarded with the rich entertainment that are the investiture debate(s) and voting. Given that the results are known before both votes in the space of two days, the only point to these exercises is that they give lesser-known politicos the chance to shine (?) in the public's full and nonplussed glare.
Thus we were regaled once more by the likes of Gabriel Rufián, of whom one would never say that he can bore for Spain because The Ruffian is as Catalonia independentist as it gets. He instead bores, at great length, for Catalonia. Drone, we almost fell asleep. Amidst his (two) tedious monotone monologues delivered to a less than enthralled Congress and public gallery (they did all fall asleep), The Ruffian mooted that Sánchez might wish to be "brave" and support an independence referendum, thus implying that next time round his band of republican commies would give Pedro the impetus to cross the investiture finishing-line (assuming, that is, the King ever invites him again; "experts" are in something of a tiz as to how repeat attempts at investiture work).
Pigs, as they didn't say in Congress, might fly. Poor, poor Pedro. Stuck between a rock and a rockier place, never sure which is the rockier. Is it Mariano or is it Iglesias (with The Ruffian hanging onto Podemos's coat tails)? Pablo upbraided Sánchez for his indecisiveness, thereby insisting that the rock of Podemos is softer than that of the PP. The softest spot of all would be Albert and his citizens Ciudadanos. But what does the future now hold for Rivera? Who can he now turn to and offer a "pact". PSOE - failed. PP - failed. Podemos? Not bloody likely, and the feeling would be entirely mutual.
We can all look forward to more sessions like this week's. They will be some time in March next year, just as they were in March this year. "Experts" are looking at ways of avoiding having to go to the polls on Christmas Day, and the same "experts" are acutely aware that there are the small matters of the regional elections in Galicia and the Basque Country looming on the autumnal horizon that will complicate matters (both on 25 September).
To return, though, to Congress and the sterile debates and even less fertile votes, these gargantuan displays of democratic self-indulgence afford those who would otherwise never utter a word to do just that. One word and one word only, albeit that it is the same one word in the space of two days. Sí or no. No or sí. All 350 of them are called one by one, up they pop like jacks in their boxes, announce their sí or no and sit down again. The experienced ones, like for example the PP's Dolly Cospedal, achieve this feat with the minimum of fuss and not a single betrayal of embarrassed or self-congratulatory body language. Up, sí, down. Seamless.
The anonymous inhabitants of Congress, recognising their one second of fame, do this with, variously, a flourish, a strident boom of sí or no (mainly those in the no camp), an awkward smile when they resume their seats, an expelling of air that betrays their stage fright, or a turn to a mate and a slap on the back and the sharing of a "well done, Juan, you got the right word out".
Congress is arranged like an enormous fairground attraction, the heads of its members barely visible above the terraced banks of seating. Like coconuts on shies, perhaps there is an alternative means of deciding investiture votes. Taking pot shots and seeing how many heads can be hit. Alas, this will not be so, meaning that they will reconvene to go through the same meaningless procedure in six or so months time, the main question being who they might not vote for then. In pursuit of real democracy, there should be a rotation of party leaders seeking investiture. Let Albert have a go next time, then Pablo, even The Ruffian. It won't make any difference who it is.
At least you can say that Mariano got closer than Pedro did. The 180 that beat his 170 was vastly more impressive than the stuffing that Sánchez had incurred after Election Number One. And we were, as previously, rewarded with the rich entertainment that are the investiture debate(s) and voting. Given that the results are known before both votes in the space of two days, the only point to these exercises is that they give lesser-known politicos the chance to shine (?) in the public's full and nonplussed glare.
Thus we were regaled once more by the likes of Gabriel Rufián, of whom one would never say that he can bore for Spain because The Ruffian is as Catalonia independentist as it gets. He instead bores, at great length, for Catalonia. Drone, we almost fell asleep. Amidst his (two) tedious monotone monologues delivered to a less than enthralled Congress and public gallery (they did all fall asleep), The Ruffian mooted that Sánchez might wish to be "brave" and support an independence referendum, thus implying that next time round his band of republican commies would give Pedro the impetus to cross the investiture finishing-line (assuming, that is, the King ever invites him again; "experts" are in something of a tiz as to how repeat attempts at investiture work).
Pigs, as they didn't say in Congress, might fly. Poor, poor Pedro. Stuck between a rock and a rockier place, never sure which is the rockier. Is it Mariano or is it Iglesias (with The Ruffian hanging onto Podemos's coat tails)? Pablo upbraided Sánchez for his indecisiveness, thereby insisting that the rock of Podemos is softer than that of the PP. The softest spot of all would be Albert and his citizens Ciudadanos. But what does the future now hold for Rivera? Who can he now turn to and offer a "pact". PSOE - failed. PP - failed. Podemos? Not bloody likely, and the feeling would be entirely mutual.
We can all look forward to more sessions like this week's. They will be some time in March next year, just as they were in March this year. "Experts" are looking at ways of avoiding having to go to the polls on Christmas Day, and the same "experts" are acutely aware that there are the small matters of the regional elections in Galicia and the Basque Country looming on the autumnal horizon that will complicate matters (both on 25 September).
To return, though, to Congress and the sterile debates and even less fertile votes, these gargantuan displays of democratic self-indulgence afford those who would otherwise never utter a word to do just that. One word and one word only, albeit that it is the same one word in the space of two days. Sí or no. No or sí. All 350 of them are called one by one, up they pop like jacks in their boxes, announce their sí or no and sit down again. The experienced ones, like for example the PP's Dolly Cospedal, achieve this feat with the minimum of fuss and not a single betrayal of embarrassed or self-congratulatory body language. Up, sí, down. Seamless.
The anonymous inhabitants of Congress, recognising their one second of fame, do this with, variously, a flourish, a strident boom of sí or no (mainly those in the no camp), an awkward smile when they resume their seats, an expelling of air that betrays their stage fright, or a turn to a mate and a slap on the back and the sharing of a "well done, Juan, you got the right word out".
Congress is arranged like an enormous fairground attraction, the heads of its members barely visible above the terraced banks of seating. Like coconuts on shies, perhaps there is an alternative means of deciding investiture votes. Taking pot shots and seeing how many heads can be hit. Alas, this will not be so, meaning that they will reconvene to go through the same meaningless procedure in six or so months time, the main question being who they might not vote for then. In pursuit of real democracy, there should be a rotation of party leaders seeking investiture. Let Albert have a go next time, then Pablo, even The Ruffian. It won't make any difference who it is.
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
An Agreement For Prominence
It was the Sunday of the last big summer weekend. Everyone should have been at the beach or preparing to head home. Mariano Rajoy and Albert Rivera were not. They watched as the parliamentary spokespeople for their parties - the Partido Popular and Ciudadanos (C's) - put pen to paper and signed an agreement under which Rajoy is assured of the support of the 32 C's deputies in Congress for the investiture votes this week. It was a curious ritual. Neither leader had wanted to give his signature.
Maybe neither wanted to bind himself to anything long-term. The agreement is short-term as it is. If Rajoy fails to gain the support of 176 deputies in either of the two votes (one tomorrow, the other on Friday), the agreement will be ripped up. Albert Rivera will be free to come to an accord with someone else. He's making a habit of this. He had one with PSOE's Pedro Sánchez until Sánchez failed so drastically with the two investiture votes in March.
Added to the PP's 137 deputies, the 32 C's deputies give a total of 169, to which one more can be added - the vote of Ana Oramas of the Coalición Canaria. She had given Sánchez her backing in March. Like Rivera she has switched sides. Where will the remaining six come from? Anywhere? If they do not, it looks like a Christmas Day election.
Rummaging around among other regional parties might produce something. The conservative nationalists in Catalonia and the Basque Country have thirteen seats between them. While there wouldn't be formal support for Rajoy, could there be abstentions? Given Rajoy and the PP's attitudes towards Catalonia in particular, it might seem odd that this could even be a possibility. But the C's Inés Arrimadas was aware enough of it to have warned Rajoy last week that the C's could withdraw their support if there were nationalists' abstentions "in exchange for something".
Rajoy was talking to Sánchez yesterday, trying to convince him to get PSOE deputies to at least abstain. The painful truth for PSOE is that whichever way it goes, it cannot win. To be seen to be allowing Rajoy in would bring accusations of the "casta" at work - the two-party system of the PP and PSOE, so despised by Podemos (and once upon a time by the C's). Sánchez would receive nothing in return. His party could lose a lot if he did. President Armengol in the Balearics will have been reminding him of this; Podemos have been making warning noises about the Balearic pact of government if PSOE enables a Rajoy investiture.
None of the four main parties, with the possible exception of the PP, can afford to have a third election. PSOE lost seats in June, so did the C's. Podemos in effect stayed as they were, regardless of the alliance with the United Left. Who's to say that the PP wouldn't add to the fourteen seats it gained in June? A third election might just make it even more inevitable that the PP will finally carry on, though the C's cannot guarantee losing more than the eight seats they did in June.
The left, unless there were to be an unexpected rebound by PSOE and a leap for Podemos (also unlikely), would not be able to form a government, just as they were unable to after the December and June elections. Rajoy and the PP are, in truth, the only game in town. Sánchez may as well select six sacrificial names at random and get them to say sí rather than no.
If Rajoy were able to somehow drum up the 176 votes, what would it mean for Rivera and for the C's? The point to be made is that the agreement does not mean that there would be a coalition; it is only one to facilitate the investiture. It is possible that there might be a coalition, though this seems unlikely. Rajoy and Rivera don't like each other; the chemistry would be all wrong.
The PP would therefore form a minority government, with policies determined by the agreement. The C's have pressed for and obtained acceptance in respect of, for example, social policies, but Rivera has not got all that he wanted regarding anti-corruption measures: both the C's and Podemos have these at the heart of their respective agendas.
For Rivera, the agreement is designed to show the electorate that the C's are the only party capable of and willing to negotiate with both the left and the right. It might also demonstrate they are a party of vacillators; Rivera will prefer the positive spin. And he badly needs to get that across. The slump in the C's vote in June made it imperative that the party was not sidelined and so might undergo a decline as rapid as its rise. Prominence, more than anything, is what Rivera gets.
Maybe neither wanted to bind himself to anything long-term. The agreement is short-term as it is. If Rajoy fails to gain the support of 176 deputies in either of the two votes (one tomorrow, the other on Friday), the agreement will be ripped up. Albert Rivera will be free to come to an accord with someone else. He's making a habit of this. He had one with PSOE's Pedro Sánchez until Sánchez failed so drastically with the two investiture votes in March.
Added to the PP's 137 deputies, the 32 C's deputies give a total of 169, to which one more can be added - the vote of Ana Oramas of the Coalición Canaria. She had given Sánchez her backing in March. Like Rivera she has switched sides. Where will the remaining six come from? Anywhere? If they do not, it looks like a Christmas Day election.
Rummaging around among other regional parties might produce something. The conservative nationalists in Catalonia and the Basque Country have thirteen seats between them. While there wouldn't be formal support for Rajoy, could there be abstentions? Given Rajoy and the PP's attitudes towards Catalonia in particular, it might seem odd that this could even be a possibility. But the C's Inés Arrimadas was aware enough of it to have warned Rajoy last week that the C's could withdraw their support if there were nationalists' abstentions "in exchange for something".
Rajoy was talking to Sánchez yesterday, trying to convince him to get PSOE deputies to at least abstain. The painful truth for PSOE is that whichever way it goes, it cannot win. To be seen to be allowing Rajoy in would bring accusations of the "casta" at work - the two-party system of the PP and PSOE, so despised by Podemos (and once upon a time by the C's). Sánchez would receive nothing in return. His party could lose a lot if he did. President Armengol in the Balearics will have been reminding him of this; Podemos have been making warning noises about the Balearic pact of government if PSOE enables a Rajoy investiture.
None of the four main parties, with the possible exception of the PP, can afford to have a third election. PSOE lost seats in June, so did the C's. Podemos in effect stayed as they were, regardless of the alliance with the United Left. Who's to say that the PP wouldn't add to the fourteen seats it gained in June? A third election might just make it even more inevitable that the PP will finally carry on, though the C's cannot guarantee losing more than the eight seats they did in June.
The left, unless there were to be an unexpected rebound by PSOE and a leap for Podemos (also unlikely), would not be able to form a government, just as they were unable to after the December and June elections. Rajoy and the PP are, in truth, the only game in town. Sánchez may as well select six sacrificial names at random and get them to say sí rather than no.
If Rajoy were able to somehow drum up the 176 votes, what would it mean for Rivera and for the C's? The point to be made is that the agreement does not mean that there would be a coalition; it is only one to facilitate the investiture. It is possible that there might be a coalition, though this seems unlikely. Rajoy and Rivera don't like each other; the chemistry would be all wrong.
The PP would therefore form a minority government, with policies determined by the agreement. The C's have pressed for and obtained acceptance in respect of, for example, social policies, but Rivera has not got all that he wanted regarding anti-corruption measures: both the C's and Podemos have these at the heart of their respective agendas.
For Rivera, the agreement is designed to show the electorate that the C's are the only party capable of and willing to negotiate with both the left and the right. It might also demonstrate they are a party of vacillators; Rivera will prefer the positive spin. And he badly needs to get that across. The slump in the C's vote in June made it imperative that the party was not sidelined and so might undergo a decline as rapid as its rise. Prominence, more than anything, is what Rivera gets.
Sunday, July 31, 2016
The Winner Is ... Papa Smurf?
Spanish TV, which manages to justify 24-hour news coverage with greater repetition than even CNN or Sky can inflict (meaning an enormous amount of repetition, or at least from experiences of times before I gave them both up as bad jobs), had this thing the other day in which The Four Great Leaders were shown in split screen over and over and over again. Here was a metaphor for the Spanish nightmare of forever being visited in the dead of night by the ghosts of elections failed, failing and yet to fail. Loop after loop was displayed, as I sipped an Americano (a longish process) and waited for something else to appear. It didn't. And it has been much like this for the past how ever months it has been. In they are wheeled (not actually on wheels, which might make for an interesting diversion) by one bloke in white to await the handshake and to then be wheeled in elsewhere by another bloke in white.
We're talking the Mariano-Pedro-Albert-Pablo Show. And tonight's star guest is the King. Whoop! Whoop! In between the two wheeling processes, there is a pause, as each stands alone, face to camera(s), exposed for all to see. Dec (as in Albert, the little C of the C's) made haste with hands, clasped over his crutch. Were his flies undone? Crikey, what a thing that would have been. And would have been even worse, having to adjust one's seating to avoid the King's subsequent growling glare and frantically attempting to up the flies.
Each of The Four Great Leaders in the solitary moments pre-handshake betray a great deal. It's as though they're about to be ushered into the head's study. "Right, Iglesias, bend over. This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you."
Pablo shuffles in stage left (right as you look at it), open-necked shirt and chinos, a dude from the 'hood with attitude. Albert. Well, we already know about Albert. Maybe he in fact had a slight accident in the royal urinal: God, that would be even worse. Pedro, the head boy, for whom a career in consultancy beckons. And finally Mariano. Senior master Mariano, doing the Mariano grinning thing, something tutored into him once he became premier (president). "Oh do try and smile, Mariano." He attempts it and, as ever, fails, managing in the process to look like Papa Smurf.
When the solitary moment is about to pass, the other bloke in white emerges (stage right, left as you look at it) and is followed in by the King. Out goes the hand, the shake is consecrated. Pause for camera(s), and if you don't get a good shot, you can always use the one you took earlier, i.e. the last time The Four Great Leaders had their rendezvous with monarchical fate.
Pablo doesn't shuffle this time, he slopes. "Hey, King bro', wassup!?" and pulls out his phone. "Hey, Pokémon. I found the Pokémon right here in the palace. Cool."
Albert: oh dear. "Never mind, Rivera, just don't do it again." "Sorry, King."
Pedro: "I believe, Your Majesty, that we are in a quadruple-stasis environment situation, demanding a meta-based impact analytical scenario within a re-engineering chaos theoretical paradigm and framework. I've prepared the PowerPoint. Oh, I did go to business school, you know." "I didn't. I was at Georgetown. Washington. A master's in international relations. The sort of thing politicians are meant to do."
Mariano: "This is a song with a nice refrain. Yes, we will sing it once again. From Smurf Land where we belong. All together now. La, la, la, la, la, la ..." The King, hoping against hope that one of The Four Great Leaders is going to present a viable plan to form the next government, turns and looks at the TV screen. Over and over and over. Again.
Index for July 2016
Alcanada power station - 8 July 2016
Alcudia and port developments - 4 July 2016, 5 July 2016
Amnesia and raids on other clubs - 10 July 2016
Brexit and other matters - 13 July 2016
Catalan policies - 15 July 2016, 20 July 2016
Emser, Pollensa - 11 July 2016
Fiestas and attitudes of the left - 9 July 2016
Hotelbeds - 14 July 2016
Individualism in Mallorca - 29 July 2016
Low Cost Holidays - 23 July 2016
Magalluf crime - 12 July 2016, 26 July 2016
Mancor de la Vall demons - 2 July 2016
Moors and Christians, Pollensa - 31 July 2016
Overbooking, occupancy and statistics - 27 July 2016
Palma police corruption - 3 July 2016
Podemos mistrust of PSOE - 18 July 2016
Pollensa town hall rows - 7 July 2016
Sant Crist, Alcudia - 25 July 2016
Seasonal workers - 28 July 2016
Sources of impatience - 22 July 2016
Spanish government - 24 July 2016, 31 July 2016
Tourist tax commission - 21 July 2016
Tourist tax introduction - 1 July 2016, 30 July 2016
Virgen del Carmen - 17 July 2016
Vueling chaos - 6 July 2016, 16 July 2016
When it rains in Mallorca in summer - 19 July 2016
We're talking the Mariano-Pedro-Albert-Pablo Show. And tonight's star guest is the King. Whoop! Whoop! In between the two wheeling processes, there is a pause, as each stands alone, face to camera(s), exposed for all to see. Dec (as in Albert, the little C of the C's) made haste with hands, clasped over his crutch. Were his flies undone? Crikey, what a thing that would have been. And would have been even worse, having to adjust one's seating to avoid the King's subsequent growling glare and frantically attempting to up the flies.
Each of The Four Great Leaders in the solitary moments pre-handshake betray a great deal. It's as though they're about to be ushered into the head's study. "Right, Iglesias, bend over. This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you."
Pablo shuffles in stage left (right as you look at it), open-necked shirt and chinos, a dude from the 'hood with attitude. Albert. Well, we already know about Albert. Maybe he in fact had a slight accident in the royal urinal: God, that would be even worse. Pedro, the head boy, for whom a career in consultancy beckons. And finally Mariano. Senior master Mariano, doing the Mariano grinning thing, something tutored into him once he became premier (president). "Oh do try and smile, Mariano." He attempts it and, as ever, fails, managing in the process to look like Papa Smurf.
When the solitary moment is about to pass, the other bloke in white emerges (stage right, left as you look at it) and is followed in by the King. Out goes the hand, the shake is consecrated. Pause for camera(s), and if you don't get a good shot, you can always use the one you took earlier, i.e. the last time The Four Great Leaders had their rendezvous with monarchical fate.
Pablo doesn't shuffle this time, he slopes. "Hey, King bro', wassup!?" and pulls out his phone. "Hey, Pokémon. I found the Pokémon right here in the palace. Cool."
Albert: oh dear. "Never mind, Rivera, just don't do it again." "Sorry, King."
Pedro: "I believe, Your Majesty, that we are in a quadruple-stasis environment situation, demanding a meta-based impact analytical scenario within a re-engineering chaos theoretical paradigm and framework. I've prepared the PowerPoint. Oh, I did go to business school, you know." "I didn't. I was at Georgetown. Washington. A master's in international relations. The sort of thing politicians are meant to do."
Mariano: "This is a song with a nice refrain. Yes, we will sing it once again. From Smurf Land where we belong. All together now. La, la, la, la, la, la ..." The King, hoping against hope that one of The Four Great Leaders is going to present a viable plan to form the next government, turns and looks at the TV screen. Over and over and over. Again.
Index for July 2016
Alcanada power station - 8 July 2016
Alcudia and port developments - 4 July 2016, 5 July 2016
Amnesia and raids on other clubs - 10 July 2016
Brexit and other matters - 13 July 2016
Catalan policies - 15 July 2016, 20 July 2016
Emser, Pollensa - 11 July 2016
Fiestas and attitudes of the left - 9 July 2016
Hotelbeds - 14 July 2016
Individualism in Mallorca - 29 July 2016
Low Cost Holidays - 23 July 2016
Magalluf crime - 12 July 2016, 26 July 2016
Mancor de la Vall demons - 2 July 2016
Moors and Christians, Pollensa - 31 July 2016
Overbooking, occupancy and statistics - 27 July 2016
Palma police corruption - 3 July 2016
Podemos mistrust of PSOE - 18 July 2016
Pollensa town hall rows - 7 July 2016
Sant Crist, Alcudia - 25 July 2016
Seasonal workers - 28 July 2016
Sources of impatience - 22 July 2016
Spanish government - 24 July 2016, 31 July 2016
Tourist tax commission - 21 July 2016
Tourist tax introduction - 1 July 2016, 30 July 2016
Virgen del Carmen - 17 July 2016
Vueling chaos - 6 July 2016, 16 July 2016
When it rains in Mallorca in summer - 19 July 2016
Sunday, March 13, 2016
In A Tiz: Royal texts
Protocol demands that the president (speaker) of Congress has to visit the King personally to inform him of the result of proceedings to select a new prime minister (president). Patxi López, said speaker, duly went to see His Maj, who was doubtless already well aware of the shambles that had taken place the previous week. In fact, one imagines that the King was watching on the telly and thinking "what the fuck" like everyone else was. The meeting with Patxi revealed the extent to which the King towers above Spain's politicians: the top of Patxi's head barely corresponded with Felipe's shoulders. He is not the only one to be dwarfed. And it isn't only in stature. It might require some Constitutional jiggery-pokery, but the King should be nominated as prime minister (president). The man is vastly superior to the shower in parliament. Head and shoulders above the rest.
Felipe had the common good sense to put off for the time being any further discussions with the warring tribes of the Cortes. What was the point? Very little. Until they - whichever ones they might be - can cobble together the constituent parts of the pantomime horse that might pass as a government pact, why waste time on them?
Meanwhile the Royals, with half an eye on the Trial of the Millennium and the extent to which witnesses might have been attempting to put the boot further into the King's in-law, had a spot of their own bother. A leaked text message sent by Tizzy to some businessman who was in the mire for having availed himself of approximately 35,000 euros not entirely legally was splashed all over the media - conventional and social. It was a message that was being compared to Mariano's famous SMS to Luis Barcenas, when the one-time PP treasurer was right up to his neck in allegations surrounding the PP's alleged B accounts (black, in other words). Mazza had told Luis to stay strong (Mazza has since sought to place an ocean between himself and Luis). Tizzy told this businessman fellow that we (i.e. Felipe as well) know you and respect you and that the rest was all, err, brown stuff. She signed off by offering a kiss and referring to "yogui". Social media then proceeded to Photoshop snaps of the Royals with Yogi Bear.
Back in parliament, though, the cartoon continued ...
During the investiture debates of the previous week, The Hairy One had given the bloke who's Top Cat in En Comú Podem (the Barcelona Podemos faction) a smacker full on the lips. Such brotherly love was, however, less in evidence during the week. There was, we learned, some tension between Pablo and the Infant Íñigo Errejón, who was seemingly playing Jerry to The Hairy One's Tom, harrying him and wishing to reduce Pablo's power. Was this the first emerging sign of a split in Podemos ranks of a Stalin-Trotsky nature? Well actually, it was. Pablo responded to reports of the internal fighting by saying that he had sent the Infant and the baby-feeding Carolina Bescansa to Siberia in order to re-educate these dissidents. It was of course a joke. There is no Siberia in Spain. But we shall all be watching the space with interest. There is little finer than observing scraps between left-wing ideologues.
As it was International Women's Day on Tuesday, Pablo was out and about demonstrating his feminist credentials, while the ranks of the Podemistas (those who hadn't stopped talking to each other) were using the day to propose a change of name to Congress. This was a sort of out-in-sympathy with the lot in Palma who have insisted on eliminating the "de Mallorca" suffix. The Congress ones were proposing that Congress should no longer be officially known as "Congreso de los diputados" (note the male usage). Town halls aren't "ayuntamientos de los concejales", for instance, they argued. The "diputados" (deputies) bit excludes women. A change would be a small step towards the eradication of violence against women, suggested Podemista, Rosana Pastor.
The PP's deputy president (deputy speaker) of Congress, Celia Villalobos (she was the one who had made the lice observation about the Tenerife Podemista Natty Dreadlock In A Babylon), said that it was all "nonsense". The rest of the country wondered if they didn't have better things to do with their time.
Felipe had the common good sense to put off for the time being any further discussions with the warring tribes of the Cortes. What was the point? Very little. Until they - whichever ones they might be - can cobble together the constituent parts of the pantomime horse that might pass as a government pact, why waste time on them?
Meanwhile the Royals, with half an eye on the Trial of the Millennium and the extent to which witnesses might have been attempting to put the boot further into the King's in-law, had a spot of their own bother. A leaked text message sent by Tizzy to some businessman who was in the mire for having availed himself of approximately 35,000 euros not entirely legally was splashed all over the media - conventional and social. It was a message that was being compared to Mariano's famous SMS to Luis Barcenas, when the one-time PP treasurer was right up to his neck in allegations surrounding the PP's alleged B accounts (black, in other words). Mazza had told Luis to stay strong (Mazza has since sought to place an ocean between himself and Luis). Tizzy told this businessman fellow that we (i.e. Felipe as well) know you and respect you and that the rest was all, err, brown stuff. She signed off by offering a kiss and referring to "yogui". Social media then proceeded to Photoshop snaps of the Royals with Yogi Bear.
Back in parliament, though, the cartoon continued ...
During the investiture debates of the previous week, The Hairy One had given the bloke who's Top Cat in En Comú Podem (the Barcelona Podemos faction) a smacker full on the lips. Such brotherly love was, however, less in evidence during the week. There was, we learned, some tension between Pablo and the Infant Íñigo Errejón, who was seemingly playing Jerry to The Hairy One's Tom, harrying him and wishing to reduce Pablo's power. Was this the first emerging sign of a split in Podemos ranks of a Stalin-Trotsky nature? Well actually, it was. Pablo responded to reports of the internal fighting by saying that he had sent the Infant and the baby-feeding Carolina Bescansa to Siberia in order to re-educate these dissidents. It was of course a joke. There is no Siberia in Spain. But we shall all be watching the space with interest. There is little finer than observing scraps between left-wing ideologues.
As it was International Women's Day on Tuesday, Pablo was out and about demonstrating his feminist credentials, while the ranks of the Podemistas (those who hadn't stopped talking to each other) were using the day to propose a change of name to Congress. This was a sort of out-in-sympathy with the lot in Palma who have insisted on eliminating the "de Mallorca" suffix. The Congress ones were proposing that Congress should no longer be officially known as "Congreso de los diputados" (note the male usage). Town halls aren't "ayuntamientos de los concejales", for instance, they argued. The "diputados" (deputies) bit excludes women. A change would be a small step towards the eradication of violence against women, suggested Podemista, Rosana Pastor.
The PP's deputy president (deputy speaker) of Congress, Celia Villalobos (she was the one who had made the lice observation about the Tenerife Podemista Natty Dreadlock In A Babylon), said that it was all "nonsense". The rest of the country wondered if they didn't have better things to do with their time.
Tuesday, March 08, 2016
Spain's Government: What Now?
Among the numerous party leaders and spokespeople who had their say in the investiture debate last Friday, there was one who would have been largely unknown, not just to anyone from outside Spain but to many within it. This was Iñigo Alli. He was speaking for the Unión del Pueblo Navarro, a regional party that has two deputies in Congress. Alli's intervention would not have been considered important, but amid the fractiousness of the occasion his words were measured and telling. He concluded by observing that over a period of 75 days the main political parties had been incapable of arriving at a solution for government. He urged them to now conduct themselves with humility and generosity in seeking such a solution. They were words that could have been spoken by millions who have no wish for an election re-run and who are growing weary of this very incapability.
There is no denying that the election on 20 December brought about massive upheaval. A PSOE spokesperson in Mallorca, Cosme Bonet, has rightly noted that the consequence of the vote in December requires a new form of analysis: the established way and order was cast asunder five days before Christmas. It was perhaps too much to anticipate that 75 days would be sufficient to arrive at this new analysis. But the question then arises as to how long should be sufficient. If no accord is reached by the start of May, there will be a further hiatus of 54 days before a new election, and it would hold no guarantee of any significant voting change or of creating the means for there to be accord. For month after endless month Spain would be under limbo-government with a nominal administration and an equally nominal opposition.
Faced with this absurdity, humility and generosity are indeed needed. But a pact with such saintly virtues seems as distant as it has been for the now four score days since the election. Given the positions stated and postures adopted during the investiture debates, there seems as if there can be only outcome. Notwithstanding the belief that accommodation can be made with Pedro Sánchez and Albert Rivera held by Mariano Rajoy, whose posturing was as unseemly as anyone's and was an affront to the post that he occupies, neither PSOE nor Ciudadanos (C's) appear inclined to wish to make such accommodation. The only game left in town - for Sánchez - is Podemos.
When the press provide, as they have been for several weeks, their graphics of how different pact permutations would look, these gloss over the enormous complexities of the 20 December upheaval. The media, both in Spain and overseas, can oversimplify a situation that is vastly more nuanced than is suggested by adjectives applied to political parties. In this facile framework, Podemos is constantly referred to as "anti-austerity". It is, but the very use of this discards everything else that it represents. It isn't totally meaningless, but if there were to be simplistic adjectival usage for each party, then why are the C's not given the adjective anti-Catalonian independence? This is a policy every bit as central to the C's narrative as the dismantling of austerity economics is to Podemos.
The Catalonia question is just one that hovers in a Damocles fashion above those who would be in power, an ever-presence prepared to strike and cut limbs from a body for government being crafted like some Frankenstein's monster. Pablo Iglesias of Podemos referred to there being no monsters in his ranks, but there are several monsters of policy constantly poised to render a beast of governmental agreement lifeless. The invective directed at Rivera and the C's over the Catalonia question cannot suddenly be forgotten or forgiven.
PSOE, the C's and Podemos need each other, but they will be unable to arrive at a deal unless there is some humility and generosity. An accord with Sánchez is not impossible - Podemos acolytes made that clear - but how might it come about? There may end up having to be some issues on which they will agree to disagree, such as Catalonia. Podemos hasn't got this far to now spurn the opportunity of influencing national policies, and so one suspects that there may well be a tripartite agreement similar to that which exists in the Balearics. Podemos would commit to a series of policies for a "government of change" but would stay out of the government as such.
Such an arrangement is not working wholly satisfactorily in the Balearics, but it was one which recognised that upheaval to the established way and order had occurred. It is one by which Podemos is not directly accountable or responsible for government, but under the new analysis that Bonet has called for, there is arguably something to commend it. Anything has to be better than the current state of non-government. Doesn't it?
There is no denying that the election on 20 December brought about massive upheaval. A PSOE spokesperson in Mallorca, Cosme Bonet, has rightly noted that the consequence of the vote in December requires a new form of analysis: the established way and order was cast asunder five days before Christmas. It was perhaps too much to anticipate that 75 days would be sufficient to arrive at this new analysis. But the question then arises as to how long should be sufficient. If no accord is reached by the start of May, there will be a further hiatus of 54 days before a new election, and it would hold no guarantee of any significant voting change or of creating the means for there to be accord. For month after endless month Spain would be under limbo-government with a nominal administration and an equally nominal opposition.
Faced with this absurdity, humility and generosity are indeed needed. But a pact with such saintly virtues seems as distant as it has been for the now four score days since the election. Given the positions stated and postures adopted during the investiture debates, there seems as if there can be only outcome. Notwithstanding the belief that accommodation can be made with Pedro Sánchez and Albert Rivera held by Mariano Rajoy, whose posturing was as unseemly as anyone's and was an affront to the post that he occupies, neither PSOE nor Ciudadanos (C's) appear inclined to wish to make such accommodation. The only game left in town - for Sánchez - is Podemos.
When the press provide, as they have been for several weeks, their graphics of how different pact permutations would look, these gloss over the enormous complexities of the 20 December upheaval. The media, both in Spain and overseas, can oversimplify a situation that is vastly more nuanced than is suggested by adjectives applied to political parties. In this facile framework, Podemos is constantly referred to as "anti-austerity". It is, but the very use of this discards everything else that it represents. It isn't totally meaningless, but if there were to be simplistic adjectival usage for each party, then why are the C's not given the adjective anti-Catalonian independence? This is a policy every bit as central to the C's narrative as the dismantling of austerity economics is to Podemos.
The Catalonia question is just one that hovers in a Damocles fashion above those who would be in power, an ever-presence prepared to strike and cut limbs from a body for government being crafted like some Frankenstein's monster. Pablo Iglesias of Podemos referred to there being no monsters in his ranks, but there are several monsters of policy constantly poised to render a beast of governmental agreement lifeless. The invective directed at Rivera and the C's over the Catalonia question cannot suddenly be forgotten or forgiven.
PSOE, the C's and Podemos need each other, but they will be unable to arrive at a deal unless there is some humility and generosity. An accord with Sánchez is not impossible - Podemos acolytes made that clear - but how might it come about? There may end up having to be some issues on which they will agree to disagree, such as Catalonia. Podemos hasn't got this far to now spurn the opportunity of influencing national policies, and so one suspects that there may well be a tripartite agreement similar to that which exists in the Balearics. Podemos would commit to a series of policies for a "government of change" but would stay out of the government as such.
Such an arrangement is not working wholly satisfactorily in the Balearics, but it was one which recognised that upheaval to the established way and order had occurred. It is one by which Podemos is not directly accountable or responsible for government, but under the new analysis that Bonet has called for, there is arguably something to commend it. Anything has to be better than the current state of non-government. Doesn't it?
Sunday, March 06, 2016
Spanish Parliament For Beginners
"Bottom ... Doo-Doo ... I'madick ..." These "names" come from one of Rowan Atkinson's master-calling-the-register sketches. It's strange what you think of when observing Spain's parliamentarians at play. Once, twice and eventually three and possibly four times a malady of investiture failure. And the climax is when the speaker and his helpers read out the names of every single one of the 350 deputies in Congress and every single one of them has to rise and say "sí" or "no". They did so twice. 219 no, 130 yes, only for the 130 to become 131 at the second time of asking: the lady from the Canaries saying she would go sí was met with a nod of thanks from the boy Pedro.
Bottom, Doo-Doo, I'madick and all the others rose twice and sat down twice. But oh that the names were that simple. The person one felt most sorry for was the recorder, typing away furiously. The names would come up on screen. At various points he or she gave up. Well, you would when some names could occupy a small novel on their own.
Highlights? Too many to mention. The boy Pedro lambasted Mazza and the PP for all the corruption. Mazza responded by suggesting that the attempt at investiture was in itself corrupt. PSOE's Antonio Hernando, supposedly having the last word after the interminable speeches by all the party representatives, said it wasn't corruption if the King has called for the investiture attempt. It was then that it all kicked off, another Hernando (a PP one) demanding a right of reply to the first Hernando for having challenged Rajoy's corruption jibe that had come about because of what the boy Pedro had said. Patxi, the speaker (whose a bloke by the way) started to lose control, as a fellow from Ciudadanos (C's) demanded the right of reply to a geezer called Rufián (yes really, Ruffian) from some Catalonian Republican-commie party who'd said that the C's had not condemned Franco. Then there was Ruffian's mate, cast in the classic role of veteran, battling commie who demanded a further right of reply for some reason. This chap, Joan Tarda, is very much of the old school, an Eric Heffer in a Spanish style, meaning lots of grey hair and a heavy moustache.
By now, everyone had forgotten that The Hairy One had seemingly stretched out a hand of rapprochement to the boy Pedro or that Al Rivera of the C's had indulged in a display of goading and being goaded that had made him appear like an obnoxious twerp. Patxi was reduced to Spanish for Beginners 101. There was a great deal of "hombre", "tranquilo", "vamos a ver". And when they did finally vamos a ver, the result the second time round was almost identical to the first vote. Everyone knew it would be, which made the second time of asking even more pointless than the first had been. But it wasn't totally pointless. Why? Because it showed that the chances of this lot - all 350 of them - ever reaching some agreement over the next prime minister (president) is as likely as Princess Cristina having gone before the court and declaring that it was a fair cop but society was to blame.
Bottom, Doo-Doo, I'madick and all the others rose twice and sat down twice. But oh that the names were that simple. The person one felt most sorry for was the recorder, typing away furiously. The names would come up on screen. At various points he or she gave up. Well, you would when some names could occupy a small novel on their own.
Highlights? Too many to mention. The boy Pedro lambasted Mazza and the PP for all the corruption. Mazza responded by suggesting that the attempt at investiture was in itself corrupt. PSOE's Antonio Hernando, supposedly having the last word after the interminable speeches by all the party representatives, said it wasn't corruption if the King has called for the investiture attempt. It was then that it all kicked off, another Hernando (a PP one) demanding a right of reply to the first Hernando for having challenged Rajoy's corruption jibe that had come about because of what the boy Pedro had said. Patxi, the speaker (whose a bloke by the way) started to lose control, as a fellow from Ciudadanos (C's) demanded the right of reply to a geezer called Rufián (yes really, Ruffian) from some Catalonian Republican-commie party who'd said that the C's had not condemned Franco. Then there was Ruffian's mate, cast in the classic role of veteran, battling commie who demanded a further right of reply for some reason. This chap, Joan Tarda, is very much of the old school, an Eric Heffer in a Spanish style, meaning lots of grey hair and a heavy moustache.
By now, everyone had forgotten that The Hairy One had seemingly stretched out a hand of rapprochement to the boy Pedro or that Al Rivera of the C's had indulged in a display of goading and being goaded that had made him appear like an obnoxious twerp. Patxi was reduced to Spanish for Beginners 101. There was a great deal of "hombre", "tranquilo", "vamos a ver". And when they did finally vamos a ver, the result the second time round was almost identical to the first vote. Everyone knew it would be, which made the second time of asking even more pointless than the first had been. But it wasn't totally pointless. Why? Because it showed that the chances of this lot - all 350 of them - ever reaching some agreement over the next prime minister (president) is as likely as Princess Cristina having gone before the court and declaring that it was a fair cop but society was to blame.
Friday, March 04, 2016
Spain In A Day: Insults and tedium
Multi-tasking you could call it, were it not for the fact that the task was singular. Multi-single tasking, if that isn't an oxymoron, which it probably is. The task was writing. So, nothing unusual in that regard. But it was a day - Wednesday - that demanded simultaneous tasking, a day that was unusual in that it projected onto screens, Twitter and multimedia for the multi-tasking the coalescing of great institutions. Parliament, not one but two, the judiciary and the monarchy. All that was missing was the church, though it, buried within the bile that was being belched in Congress, was a bystander on this day of multi-institutional exposure.
The tasks were these: keeping across debate in the Balearic parliament; keeping across the interrogation of the one-time Duke of Palma; keeping across the debate (the wrong word) on the investiture of Pedro Sánchez. Of these, the first was uncommonly civilised and meaningful in that a key subject was of broad interest. On too many occasions, the Balearic parliament peers deep into its rectum and plucks out arguments that are of no interest other than to parliament itself.
The subject was holiday rentals. For once, parliament was capable of arriving at unanimity - consensus in today's politically correct parlance. It agreed that regulation should be introduced within six months. The unstated message was why it had been taking the government so long to pull its finger out on a subject of infinitely greater importance than the wretched tourist tax. There are times, perhaps, when messages need not to be stated. Let's just all agree to agree and get on with it.
The normal state of dysfunctionality of the Balearic parliament - puerile debate, childish remarks, egotistical posturing - was momentarily cast into the background. It was the national parliament, the Congress of the Cortes, that was to borrow what is usually the normality of Palma's institution. Borrow and graft on insults and observations that should play no part in the most important of institutional processes - the confirmation or otherwise of His Majesty's principal political officer.
It has occurred on more than one occasion that current-day Spain is in a constant state of historical regurgitation. And here was an occasion which confirmed this. While minor parties had their digs, and these included aspirations of independence for Catalonia and the Basques, there was Pablo Iglesias of Podemos, a party that is highly contemporary and yet a relic of the past. How can it be anything other than when references can be made to the Civil War and to the dark fight with ETA terrorism in the early 1980s? Iglesias's dredging up of the murder of two ETA terrorists in 1983 was reprehensible, an utterly uncalled-for stick with which to beat Pedro Sánchez. The murders were themselves appalling, but Iglesias should remember the context. Spain was still in turmoil, with ETA at the centre of this. A year before there had been another coup attempt (covered up) which had sought to deprive Felipe Gónzalez and PSOE the government it deserved. All that Iglesias succeeded in doing was to trigger suspicions that Podemos is not wholly without ETA sympathies.
The debate, which wasn't a debate just an excuse for pathetic trading in insults, was always destined to be a charade. Sánchez had no hope of winning. I had written the introductory paragraph long before the vote was taken; all that was needed was slight tweaking. Mariano Rajoy, as malicious and small-minded as Iglesias in his abuse, suggested that the King hadn't been fooled, and thus managed to suggest that the King had been fooled. The monarch should have been left out of this disgraceful exercise in his name, but this couldn't have been avoided. The King had given Sánchez his blessing to attempt to form a government. Well, someone has to try.
Inadvertently, Wednesday became a bad day for the monarchy. In the court in Palma, the ex-Duke of Palma was subject to the questioning of Pedro Horrach. Of the three tasks this was by far the most tedious. Listening to Horrach deliver questions as though he is an aloof maths teacher, listening to Urdangarin's monotonous replies, the best that one could say that it was at least civilised, albeit that the presiding judge had to rebuke Horrach for constantly asking about invoices. Rebuke? What for? Aren't the invoices crucial to the whole case?
But it was the fact that the Royal Household was supposedly overseeing all that went on at Nóos made it a bad day for the monarchy: Congress and its antics just confirmed this.
It was a curious day of multi-single tasking. A day when the institutions of Congress and monarchy seemed to be unravelling and yet when the judiciary, with its prosecutor's forensic obsessions, and - most surprisingly of all - the Balearic parliament with its consensus came to the rescue. It was Spain in a day. Contrary and exhausting.
The tasks were these: keeping across debate in the Balearic parliament; keeping across the interrogation of the one-time Duke of Palma; keeping across the debate (the wrong word) on the investiture of Pedro Sánchez. Of these, the first was uncommonly civilised and meaningful in that a key subject was of broad interest. On too many occasions, the Balearic parliament peers deep into its rectum and plucks out arguments that are of no interest other than to parliament itself.
The subject was holiday rentals. For once, parliament was capable of arriving at unanimity - consensus in today's politically correct parlance. It agreed that regulation should be introduced within six months. The unstated message was why it had been taking the government so long to pull its finger out on a subject of infinitely greater importance than the wretched tourist tax. There are times, perhaps, when messages need not to be stated. Let's just all agree to agree and get on with it.
The normal state of dysfunctionality of the Balearic parliament - puerile debate, childish remarks, egotistical posturing - was momentarily cast into the background. It was the national parliament, the Congress of the Cortes, that was to borrow what is usually the normality of Palma's institution. Borrow and graft on insults and observations that should play no part in the most important of institutional processes - the confirmation or otherwise of His Majesty's principal political officer.
It has occurred on more than one occasion that current-day Spain is in a constant state of historical regurgitation. And here was an occasion which confirmed this. While minor parties had their digs, and these included aspirations of independence for Catalonia and the Basques, there was Pablo Iglesias of Podemos, a party that is highly contemporary and yet a relic of the past. How can it be anything other than when references can be made to the Civil War and to the dark fight with ETA terrorism in the early 1980s? Iglesias's dredging up of the murder of two ETA terrorists in 1983 was reprehensible, an utterly uncalled-for stick with which to beat Pedro Sánchez. The murders were themselves appalling, but Iglesias should remember the context. Spain was still in turmoil, with ETA at the centre of this. A year before there had been another coup attempt (covered up) which had sought to deprive Felipe Gónzalez and PSOE the government it deserved. All that Iglesias succeeded in doing was to trigger suspicions that Podemos is not wholly without ETA sympathies.
The debate, which wasn't a debate just an excuse for pathetic trading in insults, was always destined to be a charade. Sánchez had no hope of winning. I had written the introductory paragraph long before the vote was taken; all that was needed was slight tweaking. Mariano Rajoy, as malicious and small-minded as Iglesias in his abuse, suggested that the King hadn't been fooled, and thus managed to suggest that the King had been fooled. The monarch should have been left out of this disgraceful exercise in his name, but this couldn't have been avoided. The King had given Sánchez his blessing to attempt to form a government. Well, someone has to try.
Inadvertently, Wednesday became a bad day for the monarchy. In the court in Palma, the ex-Duke of Palma was subject to the questioning of Pedro Horrach. Of the three tasks this was by far the most tedious. Listening to Horrach deliver questions as though he is an aloof maths teacher, listening to Urdangarin's monotonous replies, the best that one could say that it was at least civilised, albeit that the presiding judge had to rebuke Horrach for constantly asking about invoices. Rebuke? What for? Aren't the invoices crucial to the whole case?
But it was the fact that the Royal Household was supposedly overseeing all that went on at Nóos made it a bad day for the monarchy: Congress and its antics just confirmed this.
It was a curious day of multi-single tasking. A day when the institutions of Congress and monarchy seemed to be unravelling and yet when the judiciary, with its prosecutor's forensic obsessions, and - most surprisingly of all - the Balearic parliament with its consensus came to the rescue. It was Spain in a day. Contrary and exhausting.
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