The votontada that left Spain's opposition speechless

The votontada that left Spain's opposition speechless

The biggest attack on Spanish sovereignty has once again exposed the fragility of the political response. With Ceuta and Melilla turned into a powder keg, the question of who calls for protests and who actually fills the streets has pitted critics against Spain's opposition parties. One camp lashes out at PP and Vox: "they haven't even proposed mass demonstrations." Others reply: "they already did, check the archives." The mystery lingers: where are the leaders when Spanish cities are burning?

The name of Alvise Pérez, a digital agitator, comes up as the exception that proves the rule. He went to Ceuta to stage his show, while the traditional political forces watched from their seats in parliament. "It was handed to them on a plate," one analysis says. The skeptical response is swift: "Why does anything need justifying? Because someone is going to raise a tiny finger or clench a fist?" The awkward question: are protests actually good for anything?

Beneath the surface lies distrust of the system. "All democratic parties are beholden to the merchants of money, and democracy is the form of government that best defends their interests," one current of thought argues. The classic argument that the left does not have a monopoly on street protests crosses paths with class contempt: "demonstrations are not the property of the left; that cartoon reveals a lazy loser's mindset."

The votontada, a word that sounds like a tavern insult, sums up the feeling that institutional politics is not up to the task. Nobody expects PP or Vox to take to the streets in defense of Ceuta and Melilla, but the parties' silence in the face of an attack on sovereignty remains a mystery. Or maybe not: perhaps they are simply where they have always been, waiting for the other side to make a move.