In this week's Camino a Ítaca, a spider bite turns into a near mortal experience in a barbaric country. The populist No-Tax brigades are once again singing their siren songs from their particular hymn book. That one that sees public services disappear, while they enjoy their private plans. Click over to read the original Spanish version published in el HOY or read the English translation below. (PDF en castellano abajo)
It was just a little black spot on the drummer’s hand with a faint white ring around it, like an inverse bullseye. It didn’t look like much to me but when we showed it to another member of the band who was from nearby Louisiana, his face immediately grew serious.
The band had a rare night off during a tour through Florida and were staying the night in one of those nameless cheap motels that dot the secondary highways that crisscross the United States. Outside, the constant hum from the insects swarming out of the swamp just behind the motel drowned out the aged, buzzing neon sign from the run-down petrol station next door. It sold soggy microwave hamburgers, beer, taxidermized alligator parts, fishing supplies and ammunition and was the only other building for miles around.
Things quickly got worse. The drummer’s body grew rigid, his pupils dilated and he began to tremble. His temperature then skyrocketed and a rash broke out all over his body as he slipped in and out of consciousness.
During the short spells where he did regain awareness, he would repeat one thing over and over again, like a mantra, “please don’t take me to the Emergency Room. I don’t have any insurance and I can’t afford it.”
This is the harsh reality of a world without a social services net: a terrified man on a lumpy motel bed undergoing convulsions who was horrified, not necessarily at the thought of dying, but at the thought of surviving and then being forced to declare bankruptcy after a visit to the ER for a mere spider bite.
With inflation sky high, the no-tax brigade has decided to escape the security of their gilded palaces and their gated communities and mix with the common folk to pass on a deceitful message: the blame for the nation’s current malaise are taxes. And their message is taking root.
Now that the pandemic seems to be moving into our rear-view mirror, the energetic support we once had for our healthcare workers at eight o’clock every evening has become something like a memory we’d rather forget. Like that time when you drank a little too much cava at the company Christmas party and insisted everyone learn the Macarena. Seemed like a good idea at the time but best to move on.
Funnily enough, I don’t completely disagree with them. It is true, some taxes should come down, as stated in article 31 of the Spanish constitution, all shall contribute to the support of public expenditures according to their economic capacity. But if we interpret this same article correctly, some should also go up.
Why is it that companies like Google and Facebook barely pay any taxes in this country? While you, me and the woman who owns the multitienda down the street pay between 24 and 30%?
How and where our taxes are used is definitely subject for debate. But basic services like public health and schools must be sacred and well financed. It’s something the vast majority of us who can’t afford private health plans and private schools must agree on. That, or imagine yourself taking an antihistamine after a simple bite and praying that you see another day.
