I understand that Sánchez got fed up. As much as I get fed up and I suppose a good part of you do. That happens to anyone who follows the politics of recent times, a wild cockfight from which no one emerges unscathed, regardless of who takes the vain glory of the winner. Just think of those “Government control sessions” where the last thing anyone does is control anyone and whose only usefulness is to show that shared moral codes are disappearing in Spain. Not because the ideas turn out to be different, but because there aren't even any ideas.
It should not cause surprise. In the end, whoever wants kindness, it is better for him to go to his grandmother's house. But, although politics is a tough business, someone should think about remedying its excesses, because the degradation of civilized dialogue only predicts even higher doses of populism and baseness.
This is what happens when democratic institutions become merely a forum for corrupt negotiation, arrogance, quarrels and the kind of discourtesies that subvert a system that seems to function only in the abstract, at the hands of leaders who tend to believe themselves to be better. smarter than anyone despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.
As an example, look at what is happening with housing – a real time bomb for our faltering democracy – or with the renewal of the CGPJ, a scandal of Homeric proportions that bores everyone and in which we no longer know or care which These are the underlying reasons that prevent PSOE and PP from acting not as legal formalities require, but rather as the eternal and simple philosophy of common sense.
Although that is not exactly why Sánchez – a man who until recently seemed imperturbable and who these days showed a certain shy air, as if the veneer of self-complacency that hid his uncertainties had cracked – has ended up as fed up with everything as I. The letter he wrote last Wednesday had to do with the quagmire in which politics is done in this country – omitting any co-responsibility of his in this regard, it is also true – but it strained the seams of the State to the extreme for a respectable, but oversized even hyperbole, a personal matter.
It dealt with the admission for processing of a complaint against his wife in a context that gives clues about how certain individuals use justice. I am referring to the supposed Manos Cleanas union, a regular in the courts famous for its abusive use of the figure of the popular accusation for purposes, to put it kindly, more than suspicious and author, once again, of one of those accusations built with clippings of newspaper.
By the way, when faced with complaints of this type, what would be expected is that the judges would exercise caution (in the case of Mrs. Gómez and in that of any citizen) and, as the law has provided for more than 140 years, They will carefully analyze the material that is put on the table. The paper supports everything, but the judge has the duty to analyze what people intend, lest they talk about extraterrestrials and apparitions in El Palmar de Troya, or based exclusively on what (press news) on which Jurisprudence says that it cannot be based.
Sánchez is right. The complainant is suspicious and the admission to processing is more than debatable. Nor do you have to be Montesquieu to see that attacking a political adversary with this type of material, and thus giving him a kick in the butt of his spouse, serves nothing more than to turn democracy into a bureaucratic formula with no other intrinsic value than of going to vote from time to time: a shell that encourages the ethical perversion of political indifference.
What happens is that the same technique has been used in other cases. If not, think about Alberto González, Mrs. Ayuso's boyfriend involved in a procedure for a crime against the Public Treasury, publicized with the greatest shamelessness by the Prosecutor's Office itself and used with the same lack of scruples by his political adversaries.
Sánchez and his wife are nothing more than other victims of a way of doing politics that brings us step by step closer to the darkness of the 1930s, that makes the nonsense of one day nothing compared to that of the next day and that It ends up making Sánchez, me and the morning star fed up.
