When Alberto Núñez Feijóo arrived in Madrid, he did so with the aura of a capable, moderate, and predictable manager. He came from governing Galicia with everything under control, and his conciliatory approach seemed ideal for reclaiming the center ground that Pablo Casado had squandered in his failed bid for the leadership of the People's Party (PP). Feijóo was then the symbol of a right wing that wanted to become serious again, capable of inspiring confidence among the middle class and presenting itself as an alternative to Pedro Sánchez.

We all agree that it is unacceptable for people to be arrested hundreds of times for petty theft and robbery, only to then continue acting with impunity on our streets. Understandably, this reality generates frustration, distrust, and a perception of failure in both the police and judicial systems, which is always exploited by those who do not hesitate to manipulate it for political gain.

The Attorney General sitting in the dock at the Supreme Court is an unusual sight, almost unthinkable in any mature democracy. This week, Álvaro García Ortiz was tried for the alleged crime of revealing secrets following the leak of an email related to the tax fraud case against the partner of the Madrid regional president, Isabel Díaz Ayuso. Beyond the specific case, the image is extraordinarily symbolic. It is the State judging the State.

The most serious political espionage in Spain's recent history is on track to go unpunished. The case Pegasus, which takes its name from the spyware developed by the Israeli company NSO Group used to infect the phones of dozens of pro-independence representatives, has gradually faded away over time, buried under the weight of institutional opacity and judicial apathy. What should have shaken the democratic foundations of the state has ended up becoming a bureaucratic nightmare, with no one responsible, no reparations, and, above all, no truth.

After the hangover from the reform of the Statute of Autonomy of Catalonia and while waiting for the ruling of the Constitutional Court that ended up cutting it, the image of the angry CatalanIt was a way of putting words to the accumulated weariness caused by Spain's systematic discriminatory treatment of Catalonia. That collective irritation was fueled by a historical grievance—fiscal, cultural, linguistic, jurisdictional—that seemed to have reached its limit. Catalan political movement knew how to channel this discontent into a shared cause, which culminated in the independence process, with the outcome known to all.

Pedro Sánchez is on the ropes. The corruption cases involving two of his closest collaborators, the former PSOE (Spanish Socialist Workers' Party) organizational secretaries, José Luis Ábalos and Santos Cerdán, have left the Spanish president breathless, losing credibility and control of the situation. And since everything is likely to get worse, the public confrontation with Donald Trump over military spending is a move with an uncertain trajectory that could cause him many headaches.

This Tuesday, the National Language Pact was signed, an agreement that aims to promote the social use of Catalan and reverse a worrying trend: the continued decline our language has suffered since the beginning of the 21st century. This pact comes after years in which the language had ceased to be a political priority despite evidence of decline. It was under the government of President Pere Aragonès that the foundations for this pact, now signed, were laid, with the aim of placing Catalan once again at the center of public debate and national policies.

"Who do you believe, me or your own eyes?" This famous line from Groucho Marx in the movie Goose soup It perfectly sums up the farce of the appearances before the Congress of Deputies committee on Operation Catalunya. The festival of denials, selective forgetting, and textbook cynicism that has featured figures such as Mariano Rajoy, Jorge Fernández Díaz, María Dolores de Cospedal, and Alicia Sánchez-Camacho is the modus operandi of those who feel unpunished and protected by the structures of the State.

You make the laws and leave the regulations to me. The Count of Romanones's famous phrase resonates these days across the Catalan political scene after Junts per Catalunya and the PSOE reached an agreement to delegate certain immigration-related powers to Catalonia. After many months of negotiations and the promise to initiate a comprehensive transfer of immigration powers, including ultimatums and a vote of confidence that was ultimately withdrawn, both parties have submitted a bill to Congress to formalize this delegation, although many questions remain about its actual implementation.

Salvador Illa's first six months as president of the Generalitat have been marked by apparent stability despite the precariousness of his parliamentary majority. Without the capacity to approve the 2025 budget or a clear legislative agenda, his government finds itself in an arithmetic situation identical to that of the Republican government of Pere Aragonès, but Isla and the PSC have managed to establish a narrative of governability that allows them to move forward without strong opposition or significant social mobilization.

"All the just causes in the world have their defenders. However, Catalonia has only us". This Lluís Companys quote referring to the Catalan nation is perfectly applicable to the Catalan language. In Catalonia's recent history we have experienced great debates about the Catalan language, too often stirred up by Madrid parties and media groups that have sought to win votes in Spain by attacking language immersion in schools in order to fuel the discourse of hatred. In few places around the world would we find examples where there are people who prefer their children to learn only one language when they can learn two.

Last April, when we still had no idea how the pandemic would affect us but we could already see that the effects would be devastating, I wrote in these same pages that, when we put this health crisis behind us, what would remain for history would be the number of deaths. The stream of data and indicators that we process every day to try to understand where we are and what can happen to us will be quickly forgotten, but when we explain to future generations how dramatic the times of the pandemic were, we will sum it up by highlighting the deaths it caused. As in any catastrophe, this is usually the macabre unit of measurement.