Protesting against commuter rail isn't what it used to be.

BarcelonaA windy day with an odd clarity after so much rain; perfect temperature for demonstrating. I head down towards Urquinaona in the morning march and, after so many years, I know that the lack of a throng means I won't find the typical crowds of the Catalan National Day. The atmosphere is easier to define by what it isn't than by what it is. The pressure to feign smiles from the years of the Catalan independence movement has disappeared, but neither is the fratricidal resentment that permeated the darkest moments after the collapse of the Catalan independence movement. Likewise, there's nothing resembling the effervescent rage of the angry Catalans of 2007, who will need an element of novelty and surprise incompatible with the eternal recurrence of the commuter rail robbery.

I would say the prevailing sentiment is a mixture of lucidity and detachment. On the one hand, the train disaster acts as an emotional glue between all the demonstrators and justifies the pro-independence movement's diagnosis and solutions: there's a palpable sense of "we told you so" that provides a foundation and direction for the movement. On the other hand, the loss of credibility of the pro-independence parties means there can't be that same sense of urgency and possibility of short-term change that fueled the movement in the past. A woman sums it up well when she says: "I was convinced I'd see it [independence], and now I think maybe not." But she expresses it with such militancy and a lack of resignation that it seems more like a call to persevere than despair. The main novelty is the presence of young people who make themselves heard by shouting "Fuck Renfe, and fuck Spain!" without breaking any taboos. Aside from the infallible cry of independence, newer slogans emerge, such as "If we want to arrive on time, we have to kick Spain out," which doesn't quite work, but I like it, and "Out with Renfe, and out with Spain" or "Out with Spain, from Catalonia," which do manage to get a good turnout. Upon arriving at Plaça Sant Jaume, I also notice that one of the words that resonates best with Lluís Llach's speech is this "out," an "out" that isn't associated with a clear objective or political strategy, but which effectively conveys the feeling of physical occupation created by Renfe trains.

The afternoon march also ends in Sant Jaume, making it easier to compare. There are considerably fewer people. –half a place versus more than three-quarters–And even less so as a professional protester. The sound system is disastrous, and after only a few meters, you can't hear a single word Anna Gómez, the spokesperson for Dignity on the Tracks, is saying. Compared to Llach, her speech is much more based on personal despair. –"We're really screwed"– than in structural political causes. Although a handful of flags bearing the symbol of the Workers' Commissions (CCOO) appeared, the Catalan independence flag (estelada) overwhelmingly outnumbered any other flag, while the pro-independence demonstrators made no attempt to steal the spotlight. The lack of a defined political enemy significantly lowers the overall intensity, because Renfe and Adif, although repeatedly told to "go to hell," are too abstract entities to ignite any political flame. The official slogan, "Without trains, there is no future," also seems more designed to avoid causing offense than to launch an offensive, and when it is called for, it fails to elicit any emotional response. The speeches are over, and people are clearly happy to demonstrate against an injustice, but it is impossible to interpret the generally subdued tone without considering the shadow cast by the history of the independence movement on any social movement. Regaining faith after a failed revolution is a problem that touches the very core of the country, whether you are pro-independence or not, just like Cercanías (the commuter rail service).