No nonsense, by Juan Tallón


Ned, the protagonist of ‘The Constant Gardener’, by John LeCarre, is a senior British secret agent. At one point, his superior, Mr. Burr, suggests that he investigate if one of the men in the house is actually a spy passing sensitive information to the Soviets; everything points to yes. When Ned accepts the case, Mr. Burr tells him, “Go ahead. Keep me informed, but not very informed; no bullshit.” I imagine that knowing everything leaves you for the drag. In some way, it becomes disheartening. And more in espionage. It is much better, and more practical, not to have absolutely all the details. That is why the Government seems not to be very aware of the ‘Pegasus case’, although at the same time it may have given the order to spy on Catalan politicians. “It is quite impossible for us to be aware of what we are doing when no one is watching”, he seems to be about to announce. defense ministerclarifying the facts once and for all.

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Life becomes more bearable if you mix knowledge and ignorance. Delving into the subsoil of State intelligence is, after all, a straight trip to depravity. What is the need to go down so much? That is why there is never enough of Mr. Burr’s phrase, very useful to pass the buck. At the moment of truth, when things are not necessarily going well for your interests, it is convenient not to take the blame. Being to blame is ugly, so why not try to get around it? I remember that in 1990 the Ourense Provincial Council brought together its entire artistic collection with the intention of exhibiting it. During the transfer of the works, a painting by Fernández Mazas “suffered a strong impact when it was hit by a car when it was backing up, finding the painting leaning on one of the bumpers in the parking lot, apparently without protection” , explained the Diputación in a statement. It seemed like just another accident, until shortly after, from other sources, it was learned that the car that hit the painting was the car of the president of the Provincial Council.

Espionage is claimed from time to time as a artistic manifestation, although too dangerous and complicated. The more progress is made in a case, and the more information is obtained, the less clear it is always what happened. Spy stories are only closed when the story can no longer be clarified. And then there is that ingratitude of the job itself. You have to deny that you are! Espionage, according to the official version, is something that never happens, as if it had not been invented. In a perfect and just world, a secret agent should be able to screw a gold plaque on the front of a building that says “Mrs. Perez. Spy. First floor”. We would all know that she has a real job. She would tell the neighborhood, that in the elevator she could ask her about the wiretaps, and if she wants her to speak louder; the city council would know, which would pass a tax on it. You could finally boast of being a spy and know without ethical restrictions the conversations that do not concern you. And best of all, you could lead a secret life where you would be a gardener.


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