She begins with France, where the presidential campaign is ongoing. “I have doubts about Marine Le Pen because in France there have been 30 years of anti-fascist predominance, and I do not think this can be dissolved suddenly, vanished by a vote of the extreme right.” She adds bluntly: “Fillon is overwhelmed by scandals and therefore politically dead. Not even the socialists want Hamon. Too bad because his proposal on citizenship income is quite good, in my opinion. And Mélenchon, of the Front de Gauche party, is the one fighting it, rejecting the idea of a composite majority.”
Rossanda, who lives here and follows the debate closely, thinks this rejection is just a big mistake. “And then there is Macron, the outsider supported by the Socialist Party. Not as a socialist, but as the European Union man.”
She thinks Europe is “scared, in the water up to its throat. Now that more and more countries do not want or cannot stand to its dictates, it’s a Europe that is exploding.”
She is also worried about Germany. She does not trust Martin Schulz’s leap: “I do not think it is right. Die Linke perhaps represents the left better, but it sadly lacks enthusiasm.” With a provocative smile, she teases me by saying “I’d almost prefer a victory by Merkel. All I know about the Socialists is very negative. Perhaps I am wrong.”
I open my eyes wide. The picture she draws of the European Socialists is demoralizing, she says. “I often find myself totally grief-stricken. There is not a decent socialist party in all of Europe.”
“In Spain there is this hope of Podemos, with its mass roots and its willingness to remain open. Here, what I fear now is precisely its isolation. The great villains around Europe will try to block Podemos, too, which has the arduous task of keeping the conflict alive. It is a positive contradiction that I follow with interest, even if I remain a bit skeptical about Iglesias’ leadership, with his air of a young professor, a bit like a protagonist. Errejón also gives me the impression he is a too nice guy, I might add.”
We agree and joke about Pablo Iglesias’ look, his ponytail, his white shirt, never as shiny as those Renzi wore, as if he had used the wrong washing cycle, the red tie flaunted in the final speech of the conference, about that lifted fist.