Political Indigestion

Spain’s political theatre has become less a narrative arc and more a smorgasbord of scandals served all at once — an avalanche of controversies, allegations, and institutional embarrassments that no citizen can process logically or morally. The column argues that this is not an accidental overload, but a functional strategy: by piling on one scandal after another, the government and political class induce a democratic indigestion so acute that citizens become numb rather than outraged.

What once would have been exceptional has now become the everyday: mega-stories about opaque international rescue negotiations, alleged misuse of public funds, expanding investigations into corporate and political networks, judicial uncertainty over high-profile amnesties, and internal party crises. These events don’t arrive sequentially; they pile up simultaneously, like a restaurant dishing up entrée, main course, dessert, coffee, and the bill all at once — and then scolding you for failing to digest it all at once.

The effect of this overload, the columnist explains, is civic fatigue, not revolt. When everything is presented as urgent and grave, nothing feels decisive. Instead of a galvanised populace demanding accountability, citizens slip from indignation to exhaustion, from exhaustion to scepticism, and from scepticism to resignation. The result? A political class covered in scandal remains opaque and resilient rather than vulnerable — less vulnerable even than if scandals were rare and shocking.

This isn’t simply about irresponsible media coverage or political malfeasance; it’s about how the volume of scandals has a psychological and strategic effect. As the inundation builds, citizens no longer have the mental space to prioritise outrage or articulate coherent demands. The public’s indignation fragments and dissipates, allowing entrenched power to persist without substantive challenge.

Meanwhile, official narratives in parts of the media — selectively focused on peripheral cases or unrelated debates — create the sense of two parallel Spains: one awash in systemic dysfunction, the other preoccupied with minor controversies divorced from systemic decay. This dissonance reinforces the feeling that there is no centre of moral gravity left, only an endless buffet of distractions.

In this context, the sales pitch for political change loses traction. People stop demanding purity or heroic accountability; what they crave is simple order and digestible clarity amid the chaos. And as long as the political menu continues to overwhelm rather than clarify, Spain’s democratic discourse will remain stuck in a pattern of indigestion rather than engagement.