[Marxism] Podemos

Louis Proyect lnp3 at panix.com
Fri Dec 11 06:49:40 MST 2015

LRB, Vol. 37 No. 24 · 17 December 2015
Can they?
Dan Hancox

Politics in a Time of Crisis: Podemos and the Future of a Democratic 
Europe by Pablo Iglesias, translated by Lorna Scott Fox
Verso, 237 pp, £10.99, November, ISBN 978 1 78478 335 8

‘I have defeat tattooed in my DNA,’ Pablo Iglesias said in a debate on 
television last year, a month after announcing the formation of a new 
political entity called Podemos. ‘My great-uncle was shot dead. My 
grandfather was given the death sentence and spent five years in jail. 
My grandmothers suffered the humiliation of those defeated in the Civil 
War. My father was put in jail. My mother was politically active in the 
underground. It bothers me enormously to lose, I can’t stand it. And 
I’ve spent many years, with some friends, devoting almost all of our 
political activity to thinking about how we can win.’

Spain goes to the polls on 20 December in what will be a historic 
election. Since the 1980s, general elections in Spain have been two-way 
races between the conservative Partido Popular (the People’s Party, or 
PP) and the centre-left Partido Socialista Obrero Español (Spanish 
Socialist Workers’ Party, or PSOE). The PP won the most recent election, 
in 2011, with 44.6 per cent of the vote; the PSOE gained 28.8 per cent. 
But in December the two parties’ combined share of the vote is unlikely 
to exceed 50 per cent. The two new contenders are Podemos and the 
centre-right populists Ciudadanos (Citizens). Ciudadanos have been doing 
better in the pre-election polls, but Podemos has been the big story 
since its formation and astonishing rise in 2014. Like Syriza, it has 
given organisational form to a new European left-wing populism. In the 
European elections of May 2014, with a tiny, crowd-funded budget and 
just four months of existence, it gained 1.2 million votes and five 
MEPs. By the end of the year it led the two establishment parties in the 

The roots of Podemos lie in the huge 2011 indignados protests against 
the Spanish political system in the wake of the global financial crisis 
of 2008. The crisis left a quarter of Spanish families living below the 
poverty line, and a majority of the rest earning no more than a thousand 
euros a month; 400,000 families were evicted over the next few years, 
while more than three million homes lay empty. Unemployment rose above 
26 per cent, and above 60 per cent for 16-24-year-olds; a significant 
proportion of Spain’s graduates left for the US and Northern Europe. In 
2012, under the guidance of the Troika, the prime minister, Mariano 
Rajoy, who has led the PP since 2004, made deep cuts to public sector 
jobs and public spending while also introducing labour reforms to make 
it easier to sack employees.

The Spanish establishment, meanwhile, thrived. The market for luxury 
goods soared, and rates of corporation tax plummeted: revenues dropped 
from €40 billion in 2007 to €22 billion in 2012, while income tax 
revenue rose by €10 billion. Spain’s nightly TV news was dominated by 
corruption scandals affecting both of the main parties, the judiciary, 
the unions, the royal family and any number of private sector 
corporations. Few of these scandals have been prosecuted, let alone 
ended in convictions. It is unsurprising that a new political formation 
emerged to challenge the complacency and corruption of the politicians, 
bankers, royals, media barons and judges: the political and economic 
establishment Podemos refers to as ‘la casta’.

The Podemos project began with a small group of young politics lecturers 
at Madrid’s Complutense University – Iglesias, along with Luis Alegre, 
Germán Cano, Juan Carlos Monedero and Iñigo Errejón – who were 
interested in the question of how to channel the energy of the 
indignados. Drawing on the ideas of Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe 
about hegemony and populism, and what some of them had learned by 
studying Latin American left-wing populist governments, they proposed 
putting aside notions of ‘left versus right’ or ‘workers versus bosses’ 
in favour of a single opposition: the people versus la casta.

 From the outset, Iglesias and his comrades understood that it was vital 
to know how to operate on hostile media and political terrain. They had 
to be realistic about the hegemonic strength of Spanish neoliberalism 
and the gap between what was being said in the streets and squares about 
the struggles of everyday life and what was making it into the 
mainstream media. Much has been made of the indignados’ exploration of 
digital democracy (they have used such platforms as Reddit to discuss 
policy proposals, and the online forum Plaza Podemos to vote on them), 
but Iglesias makes it clear that he believes TV remains ‘the great 
medium of our time’, the primary place for challenging establishment 
narratives and language. ‘When our adversaries use terms like la casta, 
revolving door, the “Berlusconisation” of politics, eviction, 
precarity,’ he writes, ‘they’re acknowledging the displacement of the 
fight onto a terrain that favours us.’

The Complutense group started on its media campaign in 2010 with an 
amateur TV discussion programme, La Tuerka, recorded in a disused garage 
in Madrid and broadcast on the tiny local cable station Tele K. La 
Tuerka (and later Fort Apache) became the group’s de facto think tank, 
as well as enabling them to build up a substantial following online. The 
show was run, Carlos Delclós writes in Hope Is a Promise, by a crew of 
volunteers, operating on a set comprising ‘two long tables with red and 
black cloth draped over them … black walls with egg cartons stapled to 
them for soundproofing. The sound was consistently awful, the editing 
amateurish at best.’​* Jorge Moruno, now Iglesias’s chief speechwriter, 
who worked on the programme, told Delclós that the left had for too long 
‘sought refuge in the warmth of their own codes and spaces’, and needed 
to learn to get its message out to unbelievers. La Tuerka permitted them 
to test out ideas, introducing (and in the process training up) the 
advocates of la nueva política: academics, journalists, lawyers, 
activists and union members, as well as people like Monedero, Errejón 
and Iglesias himself, who went on to be an increasingly popular guest on 
mainstream TV.

Winning on enemy terrain also meant breaking what Errejón, now Podemos’s 
political secretary, has called the left’s ‘leadership taboo’, the idea 
prevalent among the indignados that ‘a charismatic leader is 
incompatible with real democracy.’ Errejón ran last year’s European 
election campaign and – to the discontent of some – put a photo of 
Iglesias’s face on the ballot, reasoning that in those early months his 
regular appearances on political talkshows to put the case against 
austerity had made Podemos and ‘Pablo’ indistinguishable. In an election 
with so many undecided voters, it might make the difference. Errejón has 
argued that Iglesias’s leadership is a strategic construction, a tool 
that, far from usurping popular left-wing hegemony, helps build it.

By the time Politics in a Time of Crisis was published (as Disputar la 
Democracía) in Spain in October last year, the party was close to 
overtaking the PP in the opinion polls. But the bulk of the book was 
written in 2013 when ‘Podemos was little more than a vague, nameless 
hypothesis.’ As such it outlines the perceived need and historical 
context for the emergence of a party like Podemos, but doesn’t 
articulate the party’s policy platform. In the book, as on TV, Iglesias 
mixes the serious with the playful, political theory with pop culture. 
He cites Billy Elliot and The Wire alongside Francis Fukuyama and David 
Harvey to discuss neoliberalism’s corrosion of the postwar social 
democratic consensus, Game of Thrones alongside Gramsci to illustrate 
the meaning of power. The book is aimed at the ‘youth without a future’, 
the generation for whom adult life will begin with the considerable 
difficulty of getting away from the family home.

A large part of the book is devoted to a tour of Spain’s 20th century 
and its glaring precedents for the present: a succession of grim lessons 
concerning the use of crises by the strong to repress the weak, 
unnecessary compromises and the betrayal of mass movements. There are 
contemporary resonances everywhere: especially, given the likelihood of 
a coalition government after 20 December, in a passage about the 
subduing and incorporation of marginal parties in the 1910s to prop up 
national governments. One message is clear throughout: under capitalism, 
democracy is always incomplete, and always contingent.

Capitalism is rarely named explicitly as the enemy ideology, in part 
because attacking capitalism head-on is identified with the (failed) way 
of the old left, but perhaps also because it hardly needs spelling out. 
Fundamental to Podemos – as it was to the indignados – is the sense that 
Spanish democratic sovereignty has been usurped by the forces of global 
capitalism, represented recently in the form of the Troika, with the 
co-operation of the country’s own political and economic elites. As if 
to demonstrate this, in 2011 the PP and PSOE agreed a constitutional 
reform that made it a legal obligation for Spain’s governing party to 
designate balancing the budget a priority over public spending and 
investment – in Iglesias’s words, formalising ‘the victory of a Hayekian 

Podemos aims its critique not just at European austerity, but also at 
the failures of Spain’s post-Franco settlement. Almost as prominent as 
la casta in the Podemos lexicon is el régimen del ’78, a reference to 
the year the democratic constitution was established after Franco’s 
death in 1975. The term carries contempt for the shrinking of the 
differences between the PP and PSOE over the last thirty years, and the 
democratic deficit left by their domination. It also speaks of the chasm 
between the radical, organised working class that came alive again in 
the late 1970s, marching and striking in their millions, and the 
post-Franco consensus stitched up by the political classes, the monarchy 
and union leaders. There was neither atonement for the sins of the 
dictatorship nor a purging of torturers from Franco’s police force. ‘In 
the case of the Spanish transition,’ Iglesias writes, ‘it wasn’t the 
democrats who set the rules.’

The generation of 1978 also includes the (then powerful) communists. The 
Spanish Communist Party (PCE) had been legalised in 1977 by Spain’s 
first democratic leader, the conservative Adolfo Suárez. In the frantic 
pragmatism of the period, the PCE’s leader, the Eurocommunist pioneer 
Santiago Carrillo, formed an alliance with Suárez and – along with all 
the other major parties and the union leaders – signed the Moncloa Pact 
of 1977, an economic austerity package to be imposed at a time of great 
unemployment and poverty. The communists helped write the 1978 
constitution, along with representatives of the centre-left and 
centre-right as well as the Catalans and the Basques.


The formation of a new party called Podemos was announced at a meeting 
in a small neighbourhood theatre in Madrid on 17 January 2014. It had 
come about through an unlikely pact between Iglesias and the Trotskyist 
group Izquierda Anticapitalista (Anticapitalist Left), which was tiny 
but had the national structure in place that provided an organisational 
base for the Complutense set. Iglesias announced that he would stand for 
Podemos in the European elections if fifty thousand people signed up on 
its website: the target was achieved within two days. The party’s 
grassroots set up assembly-style círculos, or circles, a network of 
groups convened online or in person, defined either by geography or by 
area of interest or identity: science, sport, LBGT etc. This 
‘distributed network’ model replicated the methods of both the 
indignados and the phenomenally successful housing activist group PAH, 
whose former spokesperson Ada Colau was elected mayor of Barcelona in May.

The Podemos manifesto proposed to ‘convert citizen indignation into 
political change’. Iglesias called for the participation of anyone who 
had opposed austerity and defended ‘social rights’ during the crisis. 
Although the polls had consistently shown that a substantial majority of 
the population had supported the indignados, Podemos’s breakthrough in 
the European elections shocked the Spanish establishment. As 2014 wore 
on, the party’s poll ratings climbed at an incredible rate while the PP 
suffered from the effects of its cuts (and Rajoy’s unpopularity), and 
the PSOE’s appointment of a younger, slicker leader in Pedro Sánchez 
failed to make an impact.

Once the PP had been eclipsed, it was inevitable that the Spanish 
media’s attitude to Podemos – a mixture of fascination and scepticism – 
would quickly give way to hostility; since the turn of the year, Podemos 
has had to weather a sustained backlash. It has had disappointing 
results in regional elections in Andalucía and Catalonia; Syriza, its 
fellow traveller, has all but collapsed in the face of pressure from the 
Troika; and it has struggled to resolve a fundamental contradiction: 
that its origins are in the grassroots, leaderless indignados movement, 
while it is guided by a small central core of intellectuals. The 
relationship between the centre and the base grew tense almost as soon 
as the euphoria of the party’s initial success had passed. In October 
2014, the party finally gathered at the Palacio Vistalegre in Madrid to 
vote on a formal structure. The Iglesias bloc, Claro Que Podemos, faced 
a rival proposal from a slate including three of the party’s MEPs 
designed, according to one of them, Lola Sánchez, to ‘ensure diversity 
and prevent monopolies’. It proposed three party leaders rather than 
one, and devolved more decision-making power to the círculos. For 
Iglesias, the commitment to pluralism and decentralisation had clear 
limits. ‘Heaven is not taken by consensus, it is taken by assault,’ he 
told the assembly. ‘You don’t defeat Rajoy or Pedro Sánchez with three 
general secretaries – only one.’

Of the 205,000 people registered at the time as supporters on the 
Podemos website, 112,000 voted on the proposals; Claro Que Podemos won 
with 80 per cent of the vote. But the tensions didn’t abate, and in 
April this year, one of the party’s most prominent figures, Juan Carlos 
Monedero, resigned. He had been on the Claro Que Podemos team with 
Iglesias, but appeared to have changed his mind, calling for the party 
to ‘go back to its origins’, not to pursue electoral success at all 
costs and become ‘hostage to the worst aspects of the state’. While 
insisting that Podemos were still ‘the most decent force in politics’, 
Monedero worried that it was ‘falling into these kinds of problem 
because it no longer has the time to meet with the small círculos, 
because it is more important to get one minute of TV airtime’. The 
selection of Podemos candidates for the general election has led to 
further problems at local level: in the Basque Country and Aragon, 
candidates have resigned as a group. ‘The new Podemos,’ a spokesman 
said, ‘with its vertical structure, which they began to construct at 
Vistalegre’, had implemented a ‘shameful and undemocratic’ method in its 
selection of candidates.

The rapper Nega from the group Chikos del Maíz, a personal friend of 
Iglesias, told Delclós that the problem has less to do with the party’s 
internal democracy than with the moderation of its discourse: ‘You can’t 
treat people like imbeciles and go from supporting a universal basic 
income to saying, “We’ll see,” or from saying that we should nationalise 
strategic sectors of the economy to supporting Tsipras in the third 
bailout “because he had no option”. Where are you positioning yourself 
when you tell your voters: “No, we can’t”?’

Such tensions are the symptom of another contradiction at the heart of 
the Podemos project: the attempt to provide an outlet for Spain’s great 
well of untapped radicalism, while at the same time exercising a 
ruthlessly unsentimental realpolitik. In the opening pages of Politics 
in a Time of Crisis, Iglesias dismisses the ‘infantile disorder’ of 
‘leftism’, pointing out that the most striking victories for radical 
politics in Spain since 2008 have come not from the communists, or ‘the 
lonely prophets of revolutionary purity’, but the family-friendly, 
‘reformist’ PAH, which has blocked evictions, been creative in its use 
of direct action and changed the country’s housing laws – and all with 
the support of the vast majority of the Spanish population. Yet for all 
Iglesias’s optimism that there is a progressive, essentially socialist 
majority out there (if only his party could find the right formula to 
tap into it), it is unimaginable that Podemos could achieve anything 
close to the popularity of the PAH, who have been fighting manifestly 
unjust housing legislation in the context of a housing crisis that 
affects everyone (in one opinion poll the PAH received the backing of 87 
per cent of PP voters). Instead, Iglesias has to hold together a 
delicate populist coalition containing old and young, perennial 
non-voters, disenchanted PSOE supporters, and anyone else disillusioned 
with la casta.

The strategy of the PP, PSOE and their acolytes in the media for 
combating Podemos has been simple: emphasise its stars’ links with 
Venezuela and Bolivia, and keep mentioning Chavez and Castro. The idea 
is to brand Podemos as old wine in new bottles, the latest iteration of 
the extreme left. The media have tried to resurrect controversies over 
pronouncements from Podemos figures years ago about the importance of 
negotiating with ETA, in much the same way the British media have tried 
to taint Corbyn by associating him with Hamas or the IRA. To the extent 
that this strategy has succeeded, it has opened the way for Ciudadanos 
to steal centrist votes from Podemos, as a more palatable ‘vote for 
change’. The rise of Ciudadanos – helped by the popularity of its 
TV-friendly leader, Albert Rivera – has correlated exactly with 
Podemos’s decline.

Formed in 2006, as a Catalan party whose primary motivation was to 
oppose Catalan independence, Ciudadanos has grown considerably in 
stature since it became a national party a year ago. It received 9 per 
cent of the vote in the Andalusian elections in March (Podemos got 15 
per cent), and 18 per cent in September’s Catalan elections. The party 
purports to have revived commonsense liberalism, calling for 
deregulation, lower taxes and an end to corruption, along with liberal 
social policies such as the legalisation of prostitution and marijuana. 
But behind the progressive façade there is a xenophobic undercurrent; 
and the revelation that Rivera had been a PP member for four years 
directly before switching to Ciudadanos helped cement the idea that they 
are a younger, populist version of the PP. After the Paris attacks, 
Rivera sought to outflank the PP and urged them to change Spain’s 
emergency laws, to allow for the suspension of social media and the 
closure of websites and individuals’ accounts.

In its effort to reach beyond the young and indignant, Podemos has found 
judges, military officers and even a member of the loathed Guardia Civil 
to run for Congress under the Podemos banner. Whether the party could 
stretch to an alliance with the PSOE, or even to inclusion in a 
three-way coalition with the PSOE and Ciudadanos, remains to be seen. 
Perhaps more likely is a government comprising the PP and Ciudadanos, in 
which event Podemos will have to work hard to avoid becoming what it 
least wants to be: a hectoring opposition voice against austerity with 
10-15 per cent of the vote and no power. But with the success of the 
citizens’ platforms in Barcelona, Madrid and beyond, the victories of 
the PAH, and the still recent memory of the sheer size and popularity of 
the indignados movement, there remains plenty of energy in la nueva 
política for Podemos to draw on. Its challenge to la casta will not end 
with this election, whatever its outcome.

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