Alvise claims to renounce EU perks that never existed

Alvise announces he is renouncing a security detail not yet assigned by the Interior Ministry

The announcement that Alvise is giving up his official car and bodyguards as a Member of the European Parliament (MEP) has a fundamental flaw: Brussels does not provide official cars to MEPs, nor does it assign personal security details. These are provided by the Spanish Ministry of the Interior, only after a technical risk assessment which, at the time of this discussion, had not been completed. Therefore, the renunciation concerns assets he did not possess.

The confusion is significant. The protagonist later clarified: "Europe does not offer me a security detail; Spain does, and not because I am an MEP, but because I lead a political movement," referring to protection services available to other political figures. He added that protocols place him at high risk. Two narratives that do not fully align.

What Brussels gives an MEP and what it doesn't

A seat in the European Parliament does not come with a chauffeur. There is no official car or personal security team simply for being a parliamentarian. This fact dismantles the premise of the announcement: one cannot renounce something the role does not include. The circulating comparison—renouncing a non-existent privilege—is akin to someone announcing they refuse a private jet to Tokyo.

This nuance matters because the renunciation narrative functions as a political gesture. If the privilege did not exist, the gesture is mere performance. If what is rejected is protection dependent on the Interior Ministry, the question changes: is he renouncing a security service or the responsibility of having one?

Security is provided by the Interior Ministry, not Europe

Here lies the crux. Protection services for individuals at risk are designed by the Ministry of the Interior, based on updated police-technical assessments. It is not an automatic right of the seat nor a package included with the Brussels mandate. It is an administrative decision granted or denied.

Thus, the renunciation was announced before any record of the grant existed. Those calling it a hoax point exactly to this: one cannot renounce what one does not have. Supporters argue the risk exists and the offer was made. Both can be true simultaneously, creating the gap.

Salary raffle and legal limits

Another aspect of his program under debate is raffling his salary among voters. The recurring objection is legal: electoral law does not permit raffles of public office salaries, as this would turn politics into a lottery and voting into prize participation. Some suggest part of the electorate voted for the raffle, indicating the low level of debate.

The underlying argument is more uncomfortable: if the incentive to vote is a prize, representation degrades. One does not need to be a jurist to see this. One needs to want to see it.

Campaign against the figure and backfire effect

The tone of media coverage is also debated. Some claim attacks from interested media reinforce the target, while others argue the figure feeds on such attention. The theory is old: the outsider who turns every blow into proof of their thesis.

The data used as ammunition is the promise to publish sensitive documents on politicians and collaborators upon signing his mandate. If this happens, the debate shifts axis. If not, it remains another promise. As of this discussion, there is no record of it occurring.

Precedent no one wants to remember

Comparisons with previous stages of other movements appear frequently. The summary is simple: renouncing institutional entries that cost nothing was previously celebrated as taxpayer savings, because seats were reserved anyway. The saving was zero. The celebration, huge.

Something similar happens with security details. If not granted, the renunciation saves no euro. If offered, it transfers the cost of risk elsewhere. In no case is it free.

How much of this episode is a gesture and how much an obligation disguised as a gesture?