The Anatomy of Melancholy warns us that love “subverts kingdoms, destroys cities, towns, and families; ruins, corrupts, and massacres men” and even, in its worst extremes, leads us to forget “the conventions of civilized behavior”. After the five-day deadline, it is a relief to see that the kingdom is not subverted and — as seen — President Sánchez is much more lively than massacred. Some behaviors, however, have been shocking, starting with the feeling that, during these days, the president seems to have been working on the magnificent campaign speech read this morning under the guise of an institutional statement. However, his ability to influence public opinion, shock after shock, is unmatched. At 10:59, everyone thought — a very well-induced operation — that he was leaving. Like those series that get more entangled episode after episode, it is worth considering whether this time the supreme scriptwriter may have gone too far.
The president’s standby has caused an institutional whirlwind for which there was no precedent in Europe or legal provision. The public rituals of supplication or reparation have been closer to religious phenomenon than to enlightened socialist tradition. Furthermore, favoring them has been closer to the attitude of an overblown ego than that of a wounded man: Sánchez, remember, could have retired to his corner of thought without many people knowing beyond his close group. It is good to ask for humanity, but it is even better if one is capable — like Ayuso, Barberá, Cifuentes, Arrimadas — of granting it. Perhaps, opposing from power — to judges, to the media, to the opposition itself — is a characteristic of more tropical democracies than liberal ones. Moreover, no one likes the extreme right, but all European countries are dealing with it.
This week, we have been able to feel human understanding towards the figure of the president or even praise the defensive instinct that led him to entrench himself. Certainly, with Sánchez, the plea for love was somewhat difficult: the epic he has cultivated is that of the resilient leader, not — thinking of Trudeau — that of the empathetic leader. It is more surprising, therefore, the sentimental fiasco served today in the form of a statement from La Moncloa. If the request for empathy was unexpected, the possibility of resigning from the presidency seemed nonsensical. Just a week ago, the PSOE was reading the results of the Basque elections with satisfaction, and during these months, the president’s message was that the legislature not only had just begun but also had the intact will to exhaust it. The investigation into Begoña Gómez never seemed to entail more reproaches than imprudence. However, it also seemed unlikely to give credence to the bluff when, since 2018, Sánchez’s movements have been aimed at ensuring his stay in La Moncloa.
After losing the 2008 elections, Rajoy was convinced to continue by some heartfelt messages from ordinary people who wrote to him. We all need affection. But with his move, the unbreakable Pedro Sánchez has shown that he is mortal. Loyalties in politics are fluid. It is very possible that some of the protagonists of the most ardent adherences of these days may end up — experientia docet! — in the harshest criticism as well: perhaps they will not forget that, in order to maintain power or position, they were humiliated into acts of adherence and fervor that did not convince them in conscience, as the honor rituals we have seen are not things that one can pay to another without something rebelling inside. With his move, Sánchez has brought forward the twilight hour of sanchism: it should not be ruled out that one who is human to love has also been human to make mistakes.
