Rufián and the claim he was created by Spain's deep state

Rufián and the deep-state narrative: what the accusation rests on

Every so often, a suspicion resurfaces in Spain's political rumor mills: that Gabriel Rufián, ERC's spokesperson in the Spanish Congress, is not a spontaneous product of Catalan independence politics, but a piece planted by the state's apparatuses. The thesis rests less on evidence than on an uncomfortable hunch: if he is so effective at the podium and at the same time such a thorn in his own party's side, something doesn't add up. In recent days the conversation has flared up again after a new parliamentary session and an alleged comment by Jordi Turull which, according to those spreading it, would point in that direction.

Where does the suspicion that Rufián is a plant come from?

The hypothesis is linked to the «tres per cent» case, the alleged kickback system attributed to the former Convergència party. The parallel being drawn is simple: when a party is cornered, stories that no one had previously put in writing start to surface. Over time that connection has never been confirmed, but it has never stopped circulating either. The most cynical version boils down to a repeated idea: the leak always comes from within, at the most opportune moment. From there to the leap that Rufián himself is part of the setup is a stretch no one has ever documented.

It is worth pinning down where the solid ground lies. That Rufián makes people uncomfortable within his own political space is something claimed by those spreading the suspicion; that he is an agent of the state apparatuses is an accusation without a single document to back it up. Confusing the first with the second is the usual mistake of this kind of narrative, and also the most profitable one in terms of audience.

The internal cracks in the independence movement

The argument with the most traction is not the deep-state one, but the internal war. In the political space Rufián belongs to, sensibilities that have been sizing each other up for years coexist, and the relationship between its leading figures —from Oriol Junqueras to Turull— has, according to these comments, gone through phases of distrust. Those who defend the setup theory usually lean on exactly that: if there are people inside his own party who cannot stand him, maybe it's because they know something the rest don't.

It is circular reasoning of the "I know it because I believe it" kind. And yet it explains why the hypothesis never dies. It is convenient for everyone: for those who criticize Rufián without needing arguments, and for those who defend him as the martyr of a witch hunt.

The podium as a character: papers, a banknote and "keys or cash"

What is on the table is his style. His performances in his seat —handling sheets of paper, using a 50-euro note as a prop, the formula «o llaves o billete» ("keys or cash")— have turned every intervention into a small show. That register has earned him both applause and criticism from those who believe a Parliament is not a TV studio.

The most repeated criticism is not that he is a mole, but that he has gone too far. The argument is that the character has swallowed the politician, and that the excess of theatrics costs him credibility precisely when he needs it most. Others argue the opposite: that this is precisely his function, to unsettle and occupy the space left by flatter speeches.

The conversation is joined by media noise about his personal life, fueled by certain outlets, which contributes little to the substance of the matter and a lot to the spectacle.

The deep-state trail, if it exists, remains nowhere to be found. What remains is a figure who unsettles friend and foe alike, and a doubt no one manages to close: if he is that good in the role, why does his own party look at him sideways?