What's it about, Catalonia?

1. Jordi Basté has a habit. For a few years now, the broadcaster with the most listeners in the history of radio broadcasting in Catalonia has asked the same first question to every artist who passes through the show. The world on RAC 1 to present a novel or promote the release of a film. "What's it about?" Four days ago, I asked Cesc Gay, right off the bat, "what's it about, "My friend Eva?" It's such an easy question, and so short, that it's disconcerting. No matter how much marketing strategy there is behind any cultural product, at that moment, the "what's it about?" question forces the creator, when they least expect it, to extract the quintessence of their work. It compels them to write a synopsis, in no uncertain terms, which often ends up explaining more about the author's ultimate objective than the work's plot. Regardless of the script prepared by the show's extensive team of writers, the question of the bitch catches the guest off guard, and they suddenly feel that their exam grade is at stake in that first answer. I know this from experience, too.

2. This question should perhaps also be the first one Basté asks in political interviews, which, by the way, are becoming increasingly boring to hear. Would it be interesting for Salvador Illa to explain what the self-proclaimed "government for all" is about? And what is it about, ERC? And what is it about, Junts? And Podemos? And CUP? And the PP? All of these parties, in the latest polls, are on the decline if elections to the Catalan Parliament were held today. The only two parties that are rising, reaching figures reaching 25% of the Catalan vote, are both far-right parties. Both the Catalan Alliance, the far-right pro-independence parties, and Vox, the ultra-nationalists with a recalcitrant Spanish identity, would know how to quickly, without hesitation, answer the question "What are their respective parties about?" They have four clear, resounding ideas, expressed to the point of boredom. They are so outspoken and so clear that, disguised as democracy, they win over thousands of voters for whom xenophobia is no longer an indecent term. On the contrary, for them, it's nothing more than an effective remedy for combating the country's ills.

3. And the rest? The traditional parties are dissolving, seeking to be neither here nor there, to play it cool, to grasp the nettle. They swing between what they'll say and the fashion of a "political correctness" that grips them. Seen from the outside, the PSC claims to strive for a central position, however, entrenched in quietness and a belief that it's better to bore than to shock, it fails to resolve the country's major issues: in the Catalonia of eight million, there are no services or housing for everyone. Esquerra Republicana, clinging to the rhetoric of Junqueras and Rufián, which may seem cloying, is trying to buy time to recover everything it has lost in the last elections. Podemos cloaks itself in petty do-gooderism while failing to realize that "no to everything" makes them unpopular. The CUP, leaderless, no longer even appears on the news. The PP, whose sole objective is to return to the Moncloa government, remains completely irrelevant in Catalonia.

4. And what's Junts all about? Jordi Turull, at the national council meeting this weekend in Figueres, was offended by being labeled racists for wanting immigration powers. Meanwhile, polls continue to show that voters, by the handful, are choosing the Catalan Alliance, and the mayors of the region are demanding that the party have a clear message. In today's politics, playing the whore and Ramoneta no longer work. And Junts' original sin comes precisely from Ripoll. They didn't prevent Silvia Orriols from becoming mayor, for not setting red lines, nor did they make possible the vote of no confidence that ousted her this February. Whitewashing certain ideas has consequences. And Catalonia will pay dearly for them.