Whether or not the current legislature runs its course, Spanish politics is already anticipating the next general elections. I reflect on two related aspects that will significantly influence them: the rise—or fall—of Vox, and the continued relevance of the Catalan issue in the general Spanish debate.

The Spanish political system is weighed down by lead. It faces a very serious threat. It's not the first time this has happened, but now it presents a more menacing potential. During the Transition, the heirs of Francoism and the representatives of the democratic forces worked side by side to build a model that favored alternation between two major parties. This model, reminiscent of the 19th-century system of alternating power, sought to preserve stability, the primary concern in those uncertain years. There would be, they planned, a major center-right option and a major center-left option. The first party ended up being the current PP—after the UCD imploded—; the second, the PSOE. For this reason, in the eyes of some, the Transition culminated precisely with Felipe González's victory in 1982. This system has been called "imperfect bipartisanship."

Politics is the struggle for power. And in a democracy, it's governed by the principle of a simple majority, which grants a parliamentary majority. It's the civilized staging of what we call the class struggle, with the right/left dichotomy as the system's axis, often with a tendency towards caricature, the demonization of the adversary, and rhetoric that operates on the logic of "us versus them," turning the rival into an enemy. It's a brawl that transcends ideas, proposals, and decisions, often devolving, on each side, into expressions more akin to the psychopathology of petty differences.

One year ends and another begins. These are times, both personally and collectively, to take stock and formulate new goals. For our country, Catalonia, 2025 presents a mixed picture. Some aspects are clearly positive, others less so, and some are frankly adverse.

What life is like, especially what political life is like. The separatists have been saying for years that judges play politics. (They had a reason: "They are afraid!" and "Whatever you can do, let it do.".) Then Pablo Iglesias said it, in his own words. But last night, the president of the Spanish government said it live on Spanish public television. Pedro Sánchez was asked about the legal cases against his wife and brother. And he answered this:

The Spanish government has dusted off the Official Secrets Law that had fallen with the advance of the general elections in 2023. The Council of Ministers has approved the law in the second round, which now moves to the Congress of Deputies, where it will begin its parliamentary process. This law should allow the declassification of documents that were until now protected by the Francoist Secrets Law, which has been in force since 1968. "[With the law] we respond to one of the systematic recommendations of the European Commission regarding the rule of law in Spain [...] The new law complies with the European standards of advanced democracies," defended the Minister of Justice, the Presidency and Relations with Parliament, Félix Bolaños, at a press conference after the Council of Ministers.

Koldo-Ábalos-Cerdán. And the Civil Guard entering Ferraz 33 years later. It's happened again—the same old story, it should be said. Returning to the past is always regressive, involutive, depressive. And yet the novelty is that there isn't any. And the only surprise isn't that it's happening again, but that it's happening again, immutably, in the same way, without any change and in the most clumsy, botched version—dirty money and the ministry, recordings and envelopes, prostitutes and construction companies. No added sophistication. The septic tank of the trinket-trinket and downstairs. The same old story. But in the 25th century. That is, it happens when we wanted to believe that we had learned something from the previous decade, the ominous decade of corruption's metastasis—1,611 corruption cases in 2014, 305 of which were macro-summonses—that solid firewalls had never been established, and they had never been established again. And no. You see. Holy, we're back to it. The same thing. On the street. Both the crater of the black hole and the dense frustration, impotence, and democratic devastation.

Shall we make a little story?

The Trump presidency is a disruptive factor for all government formation processes around the world. Especially in Europe, which is the target of strong hostility from Trump, which, due to the war in Ukraine, is highly relevant.

On 22 June, Pedro Sánchez reached the end of a path that he had been paving for months: he pardoned political prisoners after they had spent almost four years in prison. He was laying the first stone to address the political conflict outside the courts. The next step was to resume the negotiating table that had been interrupted by the pandemic, and on 15 September the Spanish and Catalan governments' teams were photographed at the Palau de la Generalitat. But months have gone by and the Spanish government has been showing signs that, after pardoning political prisoners, the Catalan conflict is no longer a priority. And this became clear this Wednesday after the Spanish president closed the year defending the idea that right now the management of the pandemic is incompatible with immediately resuming dialogue with the Generalitat.

The second part of a legislature usually smells like the end of a term and politics takes on the colour of an election campaign. This is a universal law and it is also what is happening in Spanish politics, with its particularities and always so prone to outbursts.