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Reconciliation, agreement and stuff

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Reconciliation, agreement and stuff

The drought in Catalonia hurts so much that it emerges as the first concern of citizens according to the latest survey by the CEO, which is the Center for Opinion Studies of the government of Catalonia. Leticia, a Catalan by roots and vocation, is amazed that despite this certainty, the Generalitat seems more intent on taking the spoils from taxes than on redeeming her own incompetence by offering solutions to that main concern. Years of ineffectiveness and looking at the navel instead of at the sky have led us to this climate disaster with consequences yet to be gauged. Leticia, who is more fond of opening her arms than of raising borders, contemplates the agony of a dry land and is sad that the litany of the happy world that Catalonia will become when barriers are lowered and walls are raised continues to constitute the main diet and almost exclusive of the political debate, of the public discussion of the issues. The swamps are emptied, the flows are reduced, the fields that feed the cities are dying and here what seems to matter to Esquerra is managing taxes, to Junts that the fugitive come and reign in independent Catalonia, and to the PSC to be the most voted and decide on the future. Of the drought and its consequences? No, not at all: about the political balance in the country (Catalan) and its consequences on the governability of the country (Spanish).

Leticia contemplates, somewhat uncomfortably, how Puigdemont, resurrected by the Sanchísimo as an offering to the gods of leverage in power, euphorically celebrates his own confirmation party as a candidate for the May 12 elections. He seems happy, vigorously enthusiastic, like those children whose punishment was lifted for misbehaving in the playground. Come on, you can go out; Come on, you can come in. He celebrates it, lives it, enjoys it. He has gone from being a stinker in clear decline and with economic survival problems, to a statesman, decisive for the politics of a country in the European Union and with many possibilities of governing Catalonia again. He goes from nothing to everything by seven votes, seven, like seven gold coins that pay for the extension of a stay in Moncloa. Reborn, resurrected, emboldened and proud, he proclaims that he will try again, that now it is time for the self-determination referendum that will naturally be victorious and will proclaim the Catalan Republic. Of course, this time without risks or shadows, because the Sanchísimo will have cleared the way and watered with fragrant petals that path once full of thorns, until the arrival of his resurrection Sunday, which he will celebrate in a multitudinous liturgy when he is planted on the border. to be arrested early, before the third day, which would be the day of the entry into force of that law as it is the amnesty law.

Leticia also listens again to the litany of reconciliation and the new time for Catalonia that the government tries to accept as a reason to resurrect the zombie of Waterloo when his colleagues were already officiating at his funeral. We must look to the future, says the president, we must commit to dialogue, highlights the older brother Bolaños. But he sounds as hollow as the drum without processions or an arrow without Christ to offer it to. Especially since the last thing the officials on the other side want is precisely reconciliation. Reconciliation? Amos: let him do what we ask of him until the final resolution of the supposed conflict with independence, and then if that is enough, a pat and the gratitude of History. That’s what they are at, and they make it clear. Reconciliation?

Even Europeans with a grim and cowardly look see it, as Leticia has read in the chronicles of that Venice Commission that asks that something like this tailored amnesty be processed with a somewhat broader agreement.

Agreement, they say…What is that? She asks herself again. Agreement, they say. Where did he end up in Spanish politics? The only palpable and constant agreement is that of splashing in the mud of disqualification that borders on hatred. Mud in the political debate. Mud of vomiting and diarrhea in times of drought also of ideas and elegance. Like the water thing in Catalonia, but metaphorical.

The splashes are so thick that they reach the palatial bedrooms and there is dispute about what the powerful couple could have done or how far the adventure or corruption of the powerful couple could have gone. Which, Leticia also says, as well as whoever doesn’t want it, is serving to reinforce a singular axis that equates the presidency of the government with that of an autonomous community, Sánchez with Ayuso, in a strategic move in which it is the latter the one who has the most to win.

The Catalonia of the drought awaits solutions while politics is disputed in a quagmire of sectarianism and verbal vileness that drives away any hope of true dialogue. Who cares what worries the Catalans or Spain if we continue governing and the independence movement advances on its path and affirms its strategy thanks to the castrating force with which it squeezes socialism in its ambition?

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