The book is a fierce critique of neoliberal economic thinking, of those policies that gave rise to corporations larger than states, placed financial markets above democracies, and which, at their peak, triggered the 2008 crisis.

I wanted to emphasise my position regarding social liberalism, where I usually feel comfortable. I have never supported Thatcherite or Reagan revolutions, but I am aware that a good part of the mistakes of the 21^st century stem from that era: from a vision that has generated much disappointment and anger. A set of policies (the state is the problem, or paying taxes is theft) that have broken the social elevator. What finally convinced me was seeing many true liberals, like Francis Fukuyama, criticising the savage neoliberalism that has caused so much harm to society and to liberalism itself. The fact is that we are still tackling the problems of the 21^st century with the mental and political frameworks of the 20^th century. In Spain, we are still debating the wealth tax: it’s obvious that if you want to defend equal opportunities, you need a wealth tax; you can discuss the rate and the base, but conceptually, there are no alternatives. We continue with this view of humanity and society based on competition and permanent rivalry, rooted in Hobbes’ notion that man is a wolf to man. Humans and societies have advanced because of cooperation and altruism, not because of confrontation and selfishness. This frustrates me. It’s not about companies; I don’t care if they are bigger than states; I care about how they act: whether they follow the SDGs (Sustainable Development Goals), practise social responsibility, and have a purpose. Consumers now want different things.

The breakdown of the social elevator would be one of the reasons for people's disappointment and anger. Should we fix this elevator or change the system?

I haven’t found a better alternative system yet. I still believe that the model of coexistence we launched in Europe after World War II—the welfare state—gave us some of the best years of social harmony. It had many problems (identity politics, racism, gender issues), but socially and economically, it worked quite well. Indeed, it’s been a while since the elevator broke; meritocratic and culture-of-effort discourses forget that effort today guarantees nothing, and increasingly, we are building a class-based society where a person's social position largely depends on the family they are born into, and on the environment. This angers me, [just like] the fact that my social-democratic colleagues don’t see this as one of the fundamental priorities of government action. Democracy works in cohesive societies, in societies that feel engaged: fraternity, freedom, and equality; we must feel part of a community and proud of it.

Politics based on ideas, as you mention in your book, excludes by definition what unites us as citizens. But we are living in a time of peak identity politics...

It’s closely linked to Plato's chariot allegory [the human soul is like a chariot pulled by two horses, positive impulses and negative passions, and driven by a charioteer, reason]. I have always identified my-self with the Enlightenment, with rationalist thinking, with Kant; but it’s clear that this doesn’t explain too much of human behaviour. We need a more complex understanding of human nature than pure rationalism, an acknowledgment of the existence of emotions, feelings, and passions. Recently, social psychologist Jonathan Haidt revisited Plato’s idea but saw it as an elephant—passions and emotions—and a rider trying to control it. His thesis isn’t that the elephant follows the rider, but that the rider follows the elephant, meaning we are not rational beings but reasoning beings: we find arguments afterwards to justify what we’ve already done. I refuse to be reasoning; I want to be rational, and I hope to act based on reason one day. I found this in Stoicism. As a former Marxist in my youth, one of the hardest things to accept was that human history is not the history of class struggle, as Marx said, but the struggle between Plato’s chariot and Haidt’s elephant.

Stoicism places virtue on the side of reason: we can only achieve virtue and good actions if we manage to let our rational side prevail over our emotional side. Democracy is the rule of reason. Are we not stoic enough? Do we live in unvirtuous societies?

There are historical periods when we are led by emotions and feelings. I have nothing against that. There are very positive emotions, like altruism or solidarity, but also negative ones like envy or hatred. We need self-awareness. This is Stoicism, which connects with Freud and the idea of knowing oneself; that is, being aware of both the good and the bad within us and trying to let the good prevail over the bad. Our society doesn’t facilitate this, quite the opposite. That’s why I defend democracy, because I believe it extends this individual reasoning to society: that our social relationships are governed not by force, power, or wealth, but by norms and rules that we create after rational discussions.

In an era of rising identity politics, you argue, it’s necessary to develop, care for, and strengthen a supra-identity. I’m interested in this concept and how we can develop it. Identity politics—which isn’t a new issue but has gained strength—is about entrenching yourself in your belief to go against the other. I find this emotional and extremely negative. The idea of supra-identity connects with a concern: fraternity, which has been interpreted as solidarity but is not the same. Fraternity is the feeling of belonging to a community. I want an identity that allows me to feel united with others. At its core, it’s Habermas’s idea of constitutional patriotism: I want to feel patriotic in a country with attitudes, behaviours, ways of life, and norms that I can be proud of.

And how can we move towards this constitutional patriotism?

At this moment, it’s difficult; we have achieved it at other times. I believe there are utopias worth fighting for, and I also think that sometimes setting different utopias helps to put what we currently have into perspective. Part of today’s spectacle society and social media keeps you trapped, making it impossible to gain distance and perspective. Confronting a utopia helps to recover that Enlightenment element of critical thinking, which is one of the things we’ve lost the most. Recovering critical thinking requires creating that distance. History has shown us that when we fail to do this, things end badly. Everything bad that has happened has been driven by passions, feelings, and emotions, while the good has been shaped by reason. The greatest advances have always been in the name of reason.

Another proposal you make in the book is the union of the liberal left and right to create consensus, solve problems, and make progress. To work for the common good. Considering the current national political landscape, how could something like that be possible?

It’s very difficult. I’ve been fighting since the 15-M movement (the citizens' movement of the indignados, born from the demonstration on 15 May 2011), which was a timely and refreshing movement. I’ve always said that we got the diagnosis wrong, that the problem isn’t bipartisanship but partocracy. That is, the problem isn’t how many parties there are but how those parties act. And the major parties in Spain have acted by putting the interests of the party above the general interest. Then Podemos came along and even denied the existence of the common good because their populist view is one of constant confrontation. Or take Ciudadanos, who raised many expectations but ended up entrenched, like all the others. And in the end, you realise that going from two to four parties didn’t improve partocracy. If you made a list of the 10 major problems in a country, I’m sure of two things: one, that we would agree on at least seven of them, and two, that none of them can be solved by one government or one party. Because solving problems requires agreements. Today, reaching agreements isn’t in vogue; cross-party agreements are seen as a sign of weakness. But that’s not how you solve problems like social mobility, renewing the General Councils of the nation, or the financing model. Anything that involves change and progress requires compromise. Democracy forces you to consider the other side and come to agreements.

So, do you support bipartisanship? Are you saying bipartisanship works?

Not necessarily. I don’t care how many parties there are; what I want is for the parties to be able to differentiate between the common good and where agreements need to be made. Democracy is about conversation, dialogue, and rebuilding. Today, everything is a spectacle: it’s about who shouts the loudest, who throws the most insults. And that doesn’t solve anything. Spain still has the highest child poverty rate and unemployment rate in Europe. But look at a recent example: how was the water problem in Barcelona solved? By bringing in ships from the Sagunto desalination plant, meaning the central government, the Catalan Generalitat, the Valencian Generalitat, and four political parties all reached an agreement. Because if you want to solve problems, you need agreements.

You mentioned populism. Populism is another global trend on the rise these days. How is it affecting democracies?

Badly. We need to be aware that, contrary to what neoliberalism told us when the Berlin Wall fell – that it was the end of history, that capitalism and democracy had won and it was only a matter of time before they spread worldwide – today, only 8% of the world’s population lives in full democracies, according to The Economist's index. When we talk about Russia's confrontation with Ukraine or China with TikTok, these are essentially confrontations between democracy and autocracy. Democracies are facing external attacks from autocracies and internal ones from populism, which taps into anger, frustration, and disappointment. We thought globalisation would only bring good things and prosperity for everyone, and suddenly we realised it also brought casualties. And we realised this when people voted for Trump or when the yellow vests took to the streets in France. Populism is based on emotion, identity, and a complete abandonment of reason. Populism lies and uses fake news without hesitation. And it’s contagious. Look at the Republican Party in the United States, which has been taken over by Trump. In Spain, even if Podemos' populism hasn’t fully taken over my party, the Socialist Party, it’s certainly left it very damaged. I see behaviour in the government that, to me, is more populist than social-democratic. We must be on high alert with populism, not just because of the damage it causes directly but also because of its contagious nature.

Could this situation be the result of the inevitable decline of democracy? Perhaps we need to accept the inevitable decline of democratic periods...

It could be, but I refuse to accept what I consider unacceptable. I’d rather lose, but I won’t resign myself to it. Because I’ve seen that it’s possible to do good things in Spain and to do them differently.

Speaking of Spain, what unites Spaniards today?

That’s a question I ask myself too. But I’ll pose another one: who is working to unite us? Because uniting us isn’t about "my Spain against the other Spain." We are all Spain, including Catalans, Basques, and Galicians, and we need to ensure they feel proud to be part of a Spain that allows them to be who they want to be. That was what the Constitution was for, and that’s what the autonomous communities are for. Who’s taking care of the common good? We’ve built the autonomous state by fighting over what's yours and mine, over competencies, over statutes; but now, how do we manage the common good? We still don’t care about that. In fact, even in situations like the pandemic, the 11 May attacks, or the end of ETA, we remain divided.

Why are we always at odds?

I think it’s because of a mistaken belief that it’s politically profitable. Suppose it’s true, that it’s profitable – which I doubt – the next question is: is it worth destroying a country just to gain a vote?

So, who are democracy’s greatest enemies?

Irrationality, emotion, passion, identity – everything that brings out the worst in human beings. That tendency to give in to our darker side, to negative elements of human nature and glorify them, which is what populism does. Populism thrives on generating fear rather than hope and weakening reason. The assault on reason is the worst thing that can happen to democracy.

Could you sum up what this radical democracy you propose is about?

It’s the idea of taking democracy seriously. It's about the material conditions for freedom, as John Rawls put it; the freedom to pursue the life project you want, which requires, among other things, having the material ability to do so. It’s about taking social mobility, wealth taxes, and climate change seriously; seriously pursuing sustainability, purpose – not just for companies – and gender equality. It’s about taking seriously those things we say, which sound so good and are correct.

Indeed, all this sounds very good, but what concrete measures should be put in place to get things moving once and for all?

My conclusion is that it has to come from outside political parties; it has to come from civil society. There are several associations and many attempts in Spain, but the problem is that we haven’t been able to network between them; we need to set an explicit goal. Citizens need to start saying, "Enough is enough." Politicians are quick and astute readers of society, and if society starts sending strong signals that it’s fed up, things will start to change. That’s my hope. I’m tired of criticising politicians; let’s help them and show them how things can be done. It’s about reviving the critical spirit within society.

See, «El asalto a la razón es lo peor que le puede ocurrir a la democracia»