Path Defender: Spain

We saw them wrapped in flags, singing along to the "Fondo Sur" chants (the supporters of the court wing), pressing against police barriers or strolling freely through the streets of Madrid with a martial passion and rebellious spirit that the tribes of barbarians who plundered Europe in the times of Marikastani could only dream of. If we close our eyes tightly, we can almost hear the legendary flow of the Suevi, the raids of the Vandal tribe, and from afar, the echo of Attila's horse neighing, whose invasions were so devastating that where he stepped, grass no longer grew. The modern Attilas have perfected the technique: where they tread, democracy no longer flourishes.

It's difficult to provide an accurate description of the participants in the protests, as the discontent with Sánchez's government has gathered a noisy and diverse crowd that defies any taxonomy. Among this mix of characters from the film "France is Over," it seems there are civil servants from the Cayetano class, members of a club with red and yellow bracelets, Falangists, religious people nostalgic for Franco, fans of the band "Taburete," dapper guys with little houses and caps, seminarians from the Benedictine monastery, bald heads, Lieutenant Pelaez in casual clothes, descended into the marquees, patriots, very poor and gallant gentlemen with a lot of money, more than at a buffet in an Italian restaurant.

Our rational mind, prone to parallels, sees in the protests in Ferraz a mirror reflection of other, not so distant protests, such as Rodea el Congreso, Marchas de la Dignidad, and the overflowing queues of 15-M with signs written in marker and a tent city. It was a golden age of scandalous discussions. Back then, Intereconomía managed to sneak into the camp to conduct a scripted interview, where a well-groomed guy with a jersey on his shoulders complained about the smell of weed. Juan José Jiménez Losantos joined the fun on esRadio, describing the discontented as a society of beggars, terrorists, and Franciscans. Esperanza Aguirre, who had blessed Intereconomía and esRadio with generous state subsidies, suggested that the protesters run for office. The right proudly claimed that public affairs should be resolved in governments, not in the squares. Today, Aguirre raises the fist of rebellion and calls to end the movement on the streets of Ferraz, even though her party lost the elections. At the core lies a totalitarian idea of ownership. Some people believe that the streets belong to them by right, just as they think that governments belong to them by right.

Somewhere around 1976, before a wave of labor unrest, the magazine "Triunfo" published a phone conversation between Fraga and Tamames, in which the Minister of the Interior harshly stated, "the street is mine." Some conservative voices consider this an urban legend, but Fraga himself explained to Enrique Beotás that he was referring to the violent occupation of public space. The fact is that in that year, the year when Fraga's police killed five workers in Gasteiz, Arias Navarro's executive committee banned and dissolved peaceful requests for amnesty using batons and gas canisters.

Raja Manel was an intern photojournalist at the time and captured some of the most expressive images of the transitional period on Passeig de Sant Joan in Barcelona. Against a backdrop of smoke and torn trees, gray police ruthlessly pounce on a defenseless crowd of citizens, who cover their heads with their hands to shield themselves from the blows of batons. The sense of historical solemnity contrasts with the eccentric flow of images that have been flooding social media these days, with this farcical aesthetic encompassing neo-fascist uprisings across half the world, from the storming of the Capitol to Bolsonaro's protests. But this television masquerade, this feverish farce, begins to seem less funny when you realize its alignment with the deep state, a choking cesspool that takes over the surface as soon as the rabbit jumps.

While the audience is entertained by the eccentric performances of the ultras, referee Manuel García Castellón appears like a drunken mammoth in the investiture ceremony, pulling out a convenient case from his robe that mixes a protest with terrorism, Puigdemont with Otegi, and even strikes hard at Jesús Rodríguez, one of the journalists who exposed the infiltration of the National Police into the civil movement. Perhaps we would never have reached such extremes if the PP hadn't signed the reform of the Criminal Code in 2015 in close collaboration with the anti-jihadist pact. The task was to use the shock from the Charlie Hebdo attack to cement such a flexible definition of terrorism that could be used to prosecute puppeteers, imprison rappers, or pursue jokes about Carrero Blanco. It was necessary to cool down the discontent on the streets and silence social media. Warnings from the UN had to be ignored to neutralize the youth from Altsasu and contain Catalan independence with false terrorist accusations.

It was not surprising to anyone that Esperanza Aguirre ultimately became the target of mockery for encouraging her supporters to block Ferraz Street. However, it is now hard not to recall the CDR members who faced repression for obstructing railway lines in Girona, or the two hundred people who were brought to trial for intercepting the AP-7 in Jonquera. Not to mention Tamara Carrasco, who was sentenced to a year in pre-trial detention, or Adri Carrasco, who has been in exile for over a thousand days, both besieged by fantastic charges of terrorism in a complaint aimed at blocking roads. If Aguirre allows herself to break traffic rules, it is because she knows in advance about her amnesty. All for putodefender Spain.