Underground corruption in Catalonia
1. For years and years, I've passed under the Sant Feliu de Llobregat railway track twice a week. In recent months, the hassle of underground construction work on the line has forced a detour by car, sometimes even the GPS can't tell you where you've ended up. The work, however, was absolutely necessary. A priority. It wasn't a whim of the residents of the capital of Baix Llobregat, who had been working for four decades to ensure the track wouldn't divide the town. It was a traffic problem, a constant cause of pedestrian accidents when crossing the track, and, for the most desperate, the infrastructure offered many easy spots to jump onto the track. In November 2019, Adif finally awarded the contract to Acciona Construcción for €62.6 million. Who could have imagined that, out of that total, some politician would take a backseat commission?
2. Five years later, and thanks to a thug eager for revenge, we learned that the commission was shared between the Minister of Transport, José Luis Ábalos; Pedro Sánchez's right-hand man, Santos Cerdán; and Koldo García himself, the novel's hidden protagonist, who was being held in a tight spot. His revenge shows that, for many years, Koldo had seen that when the time came—which is when the whole lie was exposed—he would be left to fall alone, they would harden all the dead bodies, and they came to see him. They recorded the conversations. There were no telephones involved, no Civil Guards recording their conversations.in an environment they thought was safe and completely trustworthy. But this is Spain, and Villarejo has shown everyone that the more private and compromising conversations you have with people, the more rocks you stash in your belt to use as you see fit.
3. Corruption and commissions, then, continue to be our daily bread in Spain. In Catalonia, let him who is without sin cast the first stone. What is still surprising, in these cases, is that the construction companies awarded the contract tend to walk away as if nothing happened, when it is these large companies that fuel this whole perverse game of backroom deals. To win a public tender, to obtain a contract, the big construction companies continue to lure whoever it takes—parties, ministers, advisors, sycophants—to secure a shoo-in contract. The fact that of the 62.6 million euros that Acciona allegedly received from Adif, it would have to pay close to half a million to the Ábalos-Cerdán-Koldo trio is the icing on the cake for the company. A tip that falls under the project budget, in parallel accounting.
4. Until now, it seemed that Pedro Sánchez would pull through. Junts and ERC need him to remain in power because of the amnesty and pardons, Sumar is very afraid of the right, and the Basques—as always—will eventually gain some benefit from keeping him as head of government. But the pieces that are falling are increasingly closer to Sánchez. The accusations about a brother being placed and relocated are blatant, the suspicion that the Attorney General was following orders from the Moncloa to smear Díaz Ayuso's partner is very serious, and, as if that weren't enough, The Country and SER are clearly turning their backs on him. The last time he was on the ropes, Sánchez called elections, and against all odds, he's still living in the Moncloa Palace. Now, he might not be so bold as to risk everything on another coin toss.