MADRID: The man who promised a "new politics" for Spain is now hanging on by his fingernails. Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez, eight years into a tenure marked by backroom deals and shifting alliances, faces a reckoning. Multiple corruption scandals, each more toxic than the last, are closing in on his government. Sources close to the investigation confirm that at least three separate probes are now targeting members of his inner circle.
The first scandal involves alleged kickbacks in renewable energy contracts. A whistleblower inside the Ministry of Ecological Transition has provided documents showing payments to a shell company linked to a senior PSOE official. The company, registered in Luxembourg, received €2.3 million in consultancy fees for projects that were never completed. When I asked the ministry for comment, a spokesman said they were "cooperating fully with the judiciary" but declined to answer specific questions.
The second scandal is more personal. Sánchez's wife, Begoña Gómez, is under preliminary investigation for influence peddling. She allegedly used her position at the IE University to secure meetings between business leaders and government ministers. Her lawyer insists she is innocent, but the judge has already frozen assets worth €1.5 million. The opposition is calling for Sánchez to testify, but he has so far refused, citing parliamentary privilege.
Then there is the third scandal, the one that could bring the whole house down. A former transport minister, José Luis Ábalos, is accused of taking bribes from a Venezuelan businessman in exchange for public contracts. The payments were allegedly channelled through a network of front companies in Panama. Ábalos denies everything, but the paper trail is damning. Bank records obtained by this newsroom show deposits of €500,000 into an account controlled by his mistress, days after a major infrastructure deal was signed.
Sánchez has tried to weather the storm by reshuffling his cabinet and calling for unity. But the cracks are showing. His coalition partners, the far-left Podemos, are demanding a full investigation and threatening to withdraw support. "We cannot govern with this stench," said a Podemos spokesperson who asked not to be named. "The people trusted us to clean up politics, not to protect corrupt figures."
The timing could not be worse. Spain is facing rising inflation, a housing crisis, and a drought that threatens agricultural output. The European Commission has warned that the country's public debt is unsustainable. And yet, Sánchez's government is paralysed, consumed by its own survival.
On Wednesday, the opposition Popular Party filed a motion of no confidence, citing "the most corrupt government in Spanish history." The vote is expected within two weeks. Sánchez needs 176 votes to survive, but his coalition only holds 155. He has been courting Basque and Catalan separatist parties, offering concessions on regional autonomy. But those parties have been burned before by broken promises.
One senior PSOE official, speaking on condition of anonymity, told me: "The prime minister is a survivor. He has escaped before. But this time, the bodies are stacked too high." Indeed, the smell of blood is in the air. In Madrid's political salons, the question is no longer if Sánchez will fall, but when. And what will be left of his party when he does.
For now, he clings on. But in politics, as in life, the moment you stop fighting is the moment you lose. And from where I stand, the fight is almost over.
