A Tale of Two January Sixes
Catalonia's Lesson in the True Anatomy of Insurrection
Consider January 6th, 2021. Now, shift it to October 1st, 2017. In Catalonia, Spain, not Washington, D.C. Now imagine the chaos was caused not by that average crowd of wildcards and misfits, but by la flor y nata — academics, artists, politicians.
To the so-called elite, this mess already looks a bit more palatable, more European and intellectualised. But, moving forward. Now imagine that, instead of an impromptu, unplanned popular uproar, the chaos was the result of a calculated movement, orchestrated by the Mayor of the District of Columbia (in this case Carles Puigdemont, then head of Catalonia’s government), and backed by the District’s Council and local Police.
Now what if the January 6th protestors actually had a plan to overthrow the Government? Not just a romp through a government building parading Nancy Pelosi’s lectern around, but a full-blown scheme, including holding an illegal referendum to unilaterally secede and seize power over a sizeable chunk of the country’s territory.
Let’s also say that — true to early 21st century liberal customs and liturgy — shortly before the illegal referendum, the local Council had changed election laws to suit their agenda. And the referendum proceeded, tainted by voter fraud, no voter ID checks and funded by mysterious backers; making a mockery of democracy.
Local police, the Mossos d'Esquadra, acted very friendly towards the conspirators, perhaps even guiding voters to the nearest polling stations. Even so, unlike Trump who famously asked people to “remain peaceful” on January 6th, Puigdemont — warned of violence — urged people to keep pressing on, as the Spanish National Guard tried to suppress the illegal referendum.
Afterward, Puigdemont didn’t seek the radical, extreme measures of fighting his battles in court like Trump. Instead, he unilaterally declared Catalonian independence and humbly accepted an implied mandate of the people to be the ruler of this nascent nation.
Well, almost immediately after, the Senate of Spain acted to remove Puigdemont and dissolve the Catalan Parliament — imposing direct rule; and the Spanish justice system brought charges of rebellion, sedition, and misuse of public funds against Puigdemont, carrying sentences of up to 30 years in prison.
Instead of staying and stoically fighting all charges like Trump, Puigdemont — since he is not a cowardly tyrant — decided to flee the country under the cover of the night, abandoning his supporters and leaving his mess for others to clean.
Fast forward six years. Spain’s elections hang in the balance. Pedro Sánchez, the Socialist leader and incumbent prime minister, considers an alliance with Puigdemont’s party as his only option to cling to power. The price? Amnesty for all Catalan separatists who were duly processed by Spain’s justice system. Puigdemont, still a fugitive, allegedly also seeks to dismantle Spain’s legal framework, replacing it with his chosen international treaties.
Madrid’s streets now simmer with the right’s fury, sick of watching their history and laws get shredded for the left’s ambitions; who reckon their plots too refined, and backroom deals too highbrow, to be called coups.
Spain’s history, of course, isn’t just about this vote. It’s a rich legacy, one carved by the time-tested Inquisition institutions and a constant tug-of-war between local freedom and central power. Not to mention Franco’s ghost, that still looms large for some — perhaps most —, more so for the forty years of stability and growth, than for everything else.
More Articles
Don’t forget to check my serialised fiction project:
