The global plan narrative: from covid to the floods, everything fits

Elbichito, blackouts, floods: why everything fits into the global plan

The more chaotic the world becomes, the more orderly the mechanism that explains it seems. A blackout, a flood, a pandemic and a border crisis stop being isolated episodes and become pieces of a sequence: the one that, according to an increasingly loud current of analysis, would lead to a global technological dictatorship. The pieces don't need to fit together. It's enough that they fit the narrative.

From pandemic to blackout: the pattern that admits no exceptions

The central hypothesis holds that everything trinc a prior, coordinated design: elbichito, power cuts, the floods, the Ceuta situation. All these episodes share the same assumption: the deliberate abandonment by the authorities. And there the thesis becomes irrefutable: if the state provides aid, it's part of the script; if it doesn't, that's part of it too. In this reading, Spain appears as a laboratory, a national testing ground before the global rollout.

The next stretch adds geopolitics: closed straits and attacks on tankers, pipelines, refineries, railways and roads. The goal would be to sow chaos to seize everything. 9/11 is singled out as the start of that supposed hard turn.

Agenda 2030, the wildcard that answers any question

When people look for the document that would underpin the plan, Agenda 2030 shows up. The claim is that behind it are not governments but the great families and the big funds, and that political parties are mere extras. The counterargument is unsettling: if the design were unique and global, different parties would not be governing in Ukraine, Saudi Arabia, the United States or Israel.

On the fringes of this current, the oldest trick in the book reappears: blaming an entire group. It contributes not a single piece of data, and it is precisely the part that should be separated from the rest of the diagnosis.

Constantine's solidus and the 1,800-euro minimum wage

There is a recurring historical digression: the patricians and senior officials imposed a new social and economic model after Constantine's coup, and the solidus became a stable store of value while inflation devoured the rabble. The analogy is appealing — whoever mints stable value holds more power than whoever signs decrees — though it works better as a metaphor than as proof.

And then there's the other extreme, the prosaic one: the measures announced for 2027, with a minimum wage of 1,800 euros and a 30-hour workweek. For some, they are proof of the turn; for others, textbook electoral politics. That detail is the one that fits the theory of the perfect plan worst. A plan announced in an election program is not a plan: it's a proposal.

If nothing is coordinated, why is the sense of a pattern so hard to shake off? Perhaps the answer lies not in the documents, but in how events are told.