By September

"The permanent coup d'état," a classic of the French rhetorical arsenal, remains in disuse in our stormy controversies. Fortunately, it hasn't been heard in its entirety from the mouths of the more institutional opposition, despite the insults it hurls at the president for his misappropriation of the constitutional legacy, particularly in Catalan affairs. Possibly, this is due to the time that has passed since the referendum that validated France's transition from a parliamentary to a presidential regime, following Algeria's independence bid; it was the favorite slogan of the Socialist ranks to stir up popular mobilization. Or perhaps there is a certain unconscious reluctance among the national right to a term with violent overtones. And, more simply, the majority opposition doesn't believe that risk point has been reached and still believes that new elections are sufficient to normalize a political system, the Spanish one, whose axis is the rotation in power of the two major parties.

Precisely on September 5th, the power of the State, which is vested with the greatest respect, will escalate to an unknown level of abnormality if, as those who should do so, they do not prevent an accused from being the first speaker at the opening of the judicial year. If this is not prevented, the Attorney General will have taken the floor at the solemn ceremony, informing the country of the previous year's criminality, while being summoned to trial for abuse of power. Clearly, it is imperative to circumvent this exceptional situation and avoid an institutional conflict that affects the entire system. There is always room for risk aversion and preferring an authority suspended from office in a timely manner; otherwise, it would jeopardize the moral right of those same authorities to demand respect for the norms issued by the legislator.

The Attorney General must be prevented from speaking at the opening of the judicial year.

Although far removed from the official agenda, the return to classes also awaits in Torre Pacheco and other schools near the scene. For the first time in our country, calls for collective persecution have been made on social media. The high schools in rural Cartagena appear to be the integration point for an immigrant population settled in separate neighborhoods, which already accounts for around a third of its population. It is difficult to imagine the future of this bridge between different worlds, when a quarter of local voters are encouraged to embrace the impossible desire for mass deportations—an act of force—while the textbooks shared in classrooms by generations of both communities—the established culture—replace the hackneyed "reconquest" with a "repopulation" that seems to ignore a conflicting historical memory. There is little doubt which of the two options will ultimately win, if we look at the neighboring country.

What was known in civilized countries, what people should consider respectable and what should be avoided, is on the way to becoming an indecipherable mystery in our politics.