On September 10, 2025, a Madrid courtroom became the latest battleground in Spain’s unending war against political corruption when former regional president of Catalonia, Carles Puigdemont, was acquitted on charges of embezzlement and misuse of public funds—charges that had been pending since his 2017 flight to Belgium to avoid prosecution for his role in Catalonia’s failed independence push. The verdict, delivered by Judge José María Fernández de Lis, came as no surprise to legal observers, given the court’s earlier rulings in the case. But what stunned many in Spain was not the acquittal itself, but the immediate reaction of ordinary citizens on social media: a surge of posts celebrating the decision as “justice for the little guy,” with phrases like “If they do it, why shouldn’t we?” flooding platforms like X and Telegram.
The Puigdemont case is the most recent flashpoint in a crisis of legitimacy that has festered for decades in Spain, where corruption scandals involving politicians, business elites, and even high-ranking judges have become so routine that they now shape public behavior. A 2024 study by the Transparency International Spain chapter found that 68% of Spaniards under 40 believe “cheating the system”—whether through tax evasion, fraudulent unemployment benefits, or even outright bribery—is justified if the political class is doing the same. The study, based on surveys of 2,000 adults, revealed a stark generational divide: while older Spaniards still largely condemn corruption, younger voters increasingly view it as a moral equivalence, a point of view reinforced by high-profile cases like the Gürtel scandal, which implicated members of Spain’s two largest parties, or the ongoing ERE case, where regional leaders siphoned millions in EU funds meant for unemployment aid.
The erosion of trust in institutions is not just anecdotal. Spain’s Center for Sociological Research (CIS) reported in July 2025 that only 22% of Spaniards now trust their national government to act in the public interest—a drop of 15 percentage points since 2019. The decline is even steeper among those who identify as working-class or unemployed, with trust levels plummeting to 12%. “People don’t see corruption as a crime anymore,” said Laura Pérez, a 32-year-old barista in Barcelona, who admitted to falsifying her residency documents to access social housing. “If the politicians are stealing, why shouldn’t I take what’s mine?” Her sentiment mirrors that of thousands who, according to internal tax agency data, underreported income by an average of €3,200 annually—a figure that has risen 40% since 2020.
The legal system itself has become a target of public skepticism. In 2023, a leaked internal report from Spain’s Council of the Judiciary revealed that 37% of judges admitted to receiving informal pressure—ranging from political lobbying to direct threats—to alter rulings in corruption cases. The report, obtained by El Mundo, noted that such pressure was most intense in regions with high levels of organized crime, particularly Valencia and Andalusia, where prosecutors have struggled to secure convictions in cases involving local officials. “The system is rigged,” said Javier Márquez, a lawyer representing whistleblowers in the ERE case. “If you’re not connected, you don’t get justice.” His words resonate in a country where the conviction rate for corruption charges has stagnated at 18% since 2015, despite a 300% increase in reported cases.
The government’s response to the crisis has been fragmented at best. Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez has repeatedly vowed to “clean up” politics, yet his administration has faced criticism for moving too slowly on reforming Spain’s Public Prosecutor’s Office, which remains underfunded and overwhelmed by backlogs. Meanwhile, opposition parties have seized on the issue, with Alberto Núñez Feijóo of the People’s Party (PP) accusing Sánchez of hypocrisy, pointing to the Koldo case, where a close ally of Sánchez was convicted in 2024 for funneling public contracts to a shell company. “The prime minister talks about justice,” Feijóo said in a September 12 press conference, “but his own party is drowning in scandals.” The PP’s rhetoric has found traction: a Sondeo poll released this week showed that 54% of voters now believe Sánchez’s government is more concerned with political survival than combating corruption.
On the ground, the consequences are tangible. In Madrid’s Usera district, where unemployment hovers around 28%, residents describe a culture of normative fraud: fake job applications for welfare benefits, inflated medical bills submitted to public health services, and even the resale of subsidized groceries. “No one gets punished,” said Rosa López, a single mother of two, who admitted to altering her tax returns to qualify for childcare subsidies. “The auditors never come here. They’re too busy chasing people who can’t afford to pay.” Her experience aligns with data from Spain’s Tax Agency, which shows that audits in low-income neighborhoods have dropped by 22% since 2022, while high-net-worth individuals face scrutiny at nearly twice the rate.
The Puigdemont acquittal has not sparked mass protests, but it has emboldened those who see the legal system as a tool of the powerful. Legal experts warn that the normalization of corruption could have long-term consequences, including a further decline in tax revenue—Spain’s deficit reached €120 billion in 2024—and increased polarization. “This isn’t just about morality,” said Ana Belén Rodríguez, a political scientist at the Complutense University of Madrid. “It’s about whether people believe the state will protect them or exploit them.” For now, the answer for many Spaniards is clear: if the system is broken, the rules don’t apply to them.
The next test comes on October 15, when Spain’s Congress of Deputies is set to vote on a proposed anti-corruption ombudsman—a position long advocated by civil society groups but opposed by both major parties on grounds of cost and potential politicization. Whether the measure passes remains uncertain, but one thing is clear: without drastic reform, Spain’s corruption crisis will continue to redefine what it means to be an honest citizen in a country where the elite set the rules—and the rest are left to follow.
