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.

On Trial: The Spanish judiciary

Justice, administered and delivered by judges and magistrates in Spain, is administered and delivered in the name of the King. The King, in addressing a legal profession gathering in Barcelona, has reminded judges that it is they alone who impart justice. On Saturday, the King's son-in-law appears in a Palma court. The judge presiding over the "caso Nóos" is consulting with not just the prosecution but also the government and the Partido Popular as to whether they wish the King's daughter, Princess Cristina, to be indicted as part of this case.

Make of this little mix what you will, as there is an awful lot that can be made of it.

Under the Spanish Constitution, the judiciary is independent, and so of course it should be. But the extent to which it truly is independent or neutral is coming under increasing scrutiny. The Garzón affair has raised serious doubts, and the royal family having become embroiled in the wider investigation and trial of the former president of the Balearics, Jaume Matas, raises more doubts.

Let's be clear. If, and one stresses if, there is a case for the King's daughter to answer, then so be it. The royal household, from the outset of the investigation of the Duke of Palma, has made it clear that it respects the actions of the judiciary, but justice being administered and delivered in the name of King when it might involve the King's daughter, as opposed to a commoner (which the Duke is), highlights just how much of a dilemma has been created by the investigation.

For Judge Castro, the dilemma is enormous. By consulting with the government and a political party, he runs the risk of being seen to be subject to political influence. Should it not be his decision and his decision alone? Possibly. But by counselling the wishes of the political class, or a part of it, he is placing the dilemma in the hands of this political class.

In some respects, one could say he is playing a blinder, as he is handing responsibility elsewhere. But however the political class decides to play things, it will be criticised. Firstly, it will be criticised for getting involved at all. Secondly, if it says it does not wish the Princess to be indicted, it risks being accused of applying one rule for one and one rule for another (assuming, that is, there genuinely is a case to answer, and most noises have suggested not, as with the evidence of former Olympic sailing gold medallist, "Pepote" Ballester). Thirdly, if it says it does wish the Princess to be indicted, then it potentially opens up a massive can of worms.

The reason why this can of worms might be opened up is that a trap has been laid by the right-wing union Manos Limpias. In calling for the Princess to be indicted, if the government and the PP were to follow its demand, the union would, in effect, receive official backing. For the government to be perceived as acceding to the wishes of a union with the type of associations it has, i.e. Francoist, could be hugely damaging.

The government will be damned if it does and damned if it doesn't, and a further problem is that the Spanish people, generally speaking, are indifferent to many members of the royal family, with the definite exception of the King, who is held in such enormous regard, and rightly so.

The whole affair surrounding the Duke couldn't have come at a worse time for the Spanish judiciary. The world is having its say about a Spanish system that has tried, convicted and removed from office a leading judge at the behest of right-wing forces. Daniel Kaufmann, senior fellow at The Brookings Institution, has suggested that a travesty has been committed in respect of Judge Garzón, that judicial independence has been compromised, and, moreover, has presented evidence which indicates a decline in Spain's rule of law.

However much the Spanish judiciary is theoretically independent, there is a suspicion of politicisation and partiality. And it is caused not just by politics but also by professional rivalries within the judiciary (the Garzón affair is said to have been influenced by these). Garzón himself is not above charges of politicisation, and it is such charges, for the wider judiciary, which suggests that there needs to be some reform.

At the heart of all this, and a reason why it is all so important, is that the judiciary is a vital instrument of democracy. And in Spain, so is the monarchy. Both institutions, the legal system and the monarchy, are being placed or potentially being placed on trial.


Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.