"We must continue, and we will." That was Pedro Sánchez's blunt response when asked about the Koldo case and the crisis of confidence rocking his government. Continuing may be enough for the PSOE, but it isn't enough for a system that, if left unchanged, allows schemes like this to be possible. The UCO report reveals how Ábalos, Cerdán, and Koldo allegedly sought to "modify the bidding system," "gain greater control" over the auditors, and manipulate the technical process so that sympathetic operators would win with inflated scores. And we know all of this not because it was detected by any of the many anti-corruption bodies in Spain—neither integrity offices, nor transparency agencies, nor internal oversight courts (we have so many)—but rather by a judicial investigation that has required months of police work and evidence as clear as the recorded conversations between those involved.
Let's not just talk about human error or an isolated case. We're talking about a system in which the alarms seem to have gone off, and we must trust that the "candid" cell phone of one of those involved will reveal what the institutions should have detected. However, Spain is not a particularly corrupt country. We don't pay bribes to see a doctor or renew our ID. Corruption affecting the daily relationship between citizens and institutions is rare. But the perception of corruption is persistent and growing. This paradox—little daily corruption but a lot of perception—is explained by the political nature of the scandals. We're not afraid of the treatment we'll receive in public offices, but of what happens in the offices where contracts, positions, or subsidies are decided. What citizens perceive is not a corrupt state, but a policy that uses institutions as if they were their own, to finance or benefit itself. We've seen this with Gürtel, the Palau case, or the EREs in Andalusia, and now with the Koldo case. With different dimensions and objectives—for now—but with a modus operandi too similar: confusing what is public with what is party-related (or one's own).
The first impulse when a scandal breaks is to promise exemplary punishments. And yes, those responsible must pay, as must the companies involved. But if we want to prevent cases like Koldo's from recurring, it's not enough to simply determine responsibility. We must act on the system: reduce discretion in hiring, limit freely appointed positions, strengthen internal controls, and review how senior public managers are recruited and promoted. This isn't just a matter of political will: it's a matter of institutional design.
Because corruption doesn't just cost us money. It also causes us to lose opportunities and trust. When a public project is awarded to someone who doesn't deserve it, not only are resources wasted, but the quality of services deteriorates. And when citizens accept that the rules of the game don't apply equally to everyone, the connection between institutions and democracy is broken. And no resignation can fix this.
