Michavila: Three Degrees and Two Top Civil Service Exams Before Age 30

Three degrees, two civil service exams, and an LSE postgraduate degree before age 30

According to the file attributed to him, José María Michavila accumulated an extraordinary distinction for his Law degree at age 23, a second degree in History at 24, a PhD in Economic Law at 27, and first place in the competitive examination for Legal Counsel of the Consejo de Estado (Spain’s highest consultative body) at 28. Later came a full professorship at Complutense University at 31 and postgraduate studies between the London School of Economics and Harvard. The curriculum, reproduced in an economics forum, has become the trigger for a discussion that goes far beyond the individual: can governing ability be measured by a list of titles?

The dominant response in the exchange is no. And the next one is that it doesn’t matter: the CV serves mainly as ammunition against subsequent governments. One participant summarizes with sarcasm: “Compare him with the chavs in the current government.” Another raises the stakes, claiming any university professor in a technical field has a record that “5-6 ministers from the current cabinet couldn’t match.” The comparison, ultimately, isn’t about understanding Michavila, but measuring today’s politicians.

What Michavila’s file really says

The most repeated detail concerns the Consejo de Estado. The competitive exam for legal counsel there is considered, according to the material, on par with the State Attorney exam and above notary or registry positions. Passing first at age 28, after two degrees and a PhD, is what several readers see as a statistical anomaly. “Sounds like a scam,” writes one, convinced the pace doesn’t add up. The suspicion rests on no data: it’s pure disbelief at such accumulation.

Against this reading, another stream argues the CV is perfectly replicable in certain environments. “Because they grow up immersed in law since childhood, because they can afford good tutors,” argues a participant who denies fraud but admits the advantage of origin. The discussion then shifts to family wealth: mention is made that Torrecid company belonged to a Chief of the Air Force General Staff and that the family would accumulate around €720 million. The figure is launched without verification and serves to reinforce the thesis that individual merit never fully explains such a career.

The CV as ammunition against later governments

Much of the exchange doesn’t analyze Michavila but uses him as a contrast. The most repeated comparison is with Irene Montero, minister at 32 without the former minister’s academic record. “Irene Montero has more merit; she was minister at 32 without needing to study anything,” ironizes one message. Another directly asks: “Please, let someone compare his CV with Irene Montero’s.” Pablo Casado also appears, with his Law degree completed in three years, as proof that the system has shortcuts.

Some take criticism further and attack the value of the title itself. “All these lawyers are memorizing parrots with little insight,” declares one participant. The idea that competitive exams reward memory over understanding runs through several messages: “Does he know mathematical logic? No. Does he understand matter, forces, and energy? No.” The debatable argument echoes complaints that Spain is “a country of pure humanities” and that this translates into power lacking analytical capacity.

The March 11 attacks, Iraq, and the rest of the political file

The academic CV isn’t discussed in a vacuum. Michavila was Minister of Justice on the eve of the Iraq War, and that reappears harshly: “He swallowed the crap coming from the US, and if he didn’t, he should have resigned as he ought to have.” Another message recalls his involvement in the Fundescam case and subsequent revolving doors into asset management. The conclusion drawn from this path is that a brilliant record guarantees neither political judgment nor independence.

Defense of the figure relies on what is also attacked. “These are extremely intelligent people. Not everything in life is being an engineer,” replies one. And another closes: “Michavila’s achievements come from studying hard and being very smart.” The disagreement, therefore, isn’t about the titles but about what they demonstrate. For some, exceptional capability. For others, trained skill that says nothing about judgment.

The underlying problem: who ends up governing

The discussion drifts toward a more uncomfortable question: if the best records don’t reach politics, who does? “Few brilliant people enter politics. Almost everyone who comes in are charlatans wanting to live off stories,” writes a participant. The thesis that the ministerial role has been discredited runs through several messages: “If we’re going to put dullards who can’t tell their ass from their elbow in those posts, leaving all capacity to advisors, let’s ditch ministries and hire a management firm.”

The counterargument is that the problem isn’t people but the system selecting them. “They’ve turned Spain into a dump. Politicians and oligarchs dividing loot among themselves and their whores,” summarizes one message. Distrust in competitive exams as a meritocratic mechanism is widespread: “Those top exams are reserved for relatives and friends. Look whose children hold all those positions.” There’s no proof, but suspicion functions as consensus.

In the end, Michavila’s file remains trapped between two uses. Some display it as proof that prepared people used to arrive. Others read it as demonstration that academic preparation doesn’t help govern. And third cynics reduce it to the usual: “So much study just to be another idiot.” The disorienting fact is that, 555 days after the discussion peine, nobody has debated the CV itself. Only what each wants it to miccionan.