In November, Spain will hold its fourth general election in four years. Only five months have passed since the last election, which had a turnout of more than 75% – the highest in 15 years. In an increasingly conservative Europe, it was a rare election result that lifted progressive spirits: Pedro Sánchez’s victorious Socialist Workers’ party looked as if it would almost certainly have to form a coalition government with Unidas Podemos, the newer, more leftwing party led by Pablo Iglesias. But since the election in April, the two have failed to reach an agreement. In the end, Sánchez preferred to risk another election rather than rely on a party that would put pressure on him from the left.

The negotiations have been a sad spectacle, not least because the voters’ message in April had seemed so clear. On the night of the socialists’ victory, hundreds of ecstatic supporters outside the party’s headquarters chanted anti-fascist slogans and urged party leaders not to side with Ciudadanos, a rightwing technocratic party. They wanted a leftwing coalition, and it looked like a done deal: throughout the electoral campaign, Sánchez had claimed he would have no problem governing in coalition with Unidas Podemos.

But just a few days after the socialists’ triumph, they announced that they would attempt to govern alone, presumably with outside support from Unidas Podemos and the nationalist parties of the Basque country and Catalonia. As negotiations dragged on, however, Sánchez increasingly reached out to his party’s traditional sparring partners in the conservative People’s party, as well as Ciudadanos. But with both parties competing to lead the opposition against Sánchez, efforts to govern with their support were always doomed.

Meanwhile, Unidas Podemos made it clear that the only role it was willing to accept was in a coalition government, with a number of ministries handed to its politicians. Over the summer, the negotiations between the two parties broke down. More than anything else, the talks collapsed due to strategic considerations. As Pablo Simón, a political scientist at Carlos III University in Madrid, recently put it, neither party was sufficiently scared of another election.

Three recent polls showed gains for the socialists and for the People’s party, modest losses for Unidas Podemos and declining support for both Ciudadanos and the far right. For Sánchez, that suggests a scenario in which he could further weaken Unidas Podemos and pass budgets and legislation without having to rely on support from Catalonia’s pro-independence Republican Left party.

Yet there’s something else going on: huge discontent among voters. In one poll, carried out for El País, 90% of respondents reported feeling disappointed, angry or worried about the inability to form a government. Though far from impossible, a repeat of April’s high turnout seems unlikely. And what neither the socialists nor Unidas Podemos seemed to take seriously in their negotiations is that these feelings were stronger among leftwing voters than those on the right. This could be a big problem for the socialists, as they were especially effective at mobilising voters who had abstained in previous elections, by adopting more leftwing rhetoric and emphasising the threat of a resurgent far right.

To understand Spain’s increasingly fragmentary politics, you have to go back to the indignados movement that erupted in May 2011. At a time of austerity, massive unemployment, widespread evictions and high-profile corruption scandals, hundreds of thousands occupied public squares throughout the country. Chanting “No nos representan” (“They don’t represent us”) and demanding “real democracy now”, they often criticised the system that emerged from La Transición – the country’s transition from dictatorship to democracy in the late 1970s – as an inauthentic partitocracia (“partocracy”) designed to protect the two mainstream parties and accommodate members of the old regime.

As the establishment parties routinely ignored the indignados’ demands for more direct participation, social rights and economic democracy – many of which were supported by an overwhelming majority of citizens – new parties emerged at the local, regional and state levels to capitalise on the movement’s discourse.

The process continues. This weekend, it was announced that Más Madrid, the new party led by Íñigo Errejón, a founding member of Podemos, will run in the election. By emphasising feminism, ecosocialism and political participation, the party hopes to mobilise those disenchanted by the sad spectacle of the last few months. Yet many fear this will just divide the left further, even paving the way for a rightwing government.

Unlike the politicians who represent them, Spanish voters welcome a pluralistic form of politics. According to the El País poll, just 16% of Spaniards are in favour of a return to the de facto two-party system that emerged from La Transición. By contrast, 84% believe the parties must deal with the new multiparty system and grow accustomed to reaching agreements.

Indeed, over the last two decades, the country has become much more diverse, both in terms of its political views and its demographic composition. At the same time, a broad consensus has emerged in favour of more direct and binding political participation – through participatory budgets, citizen-initiated legislation and referenda – as well as affordable housing, universal health care, and greater transparency and accountability. But as the parliament has become somewhat more “representative” of the population’s demands, party politics has become more susceptible to blockage. The November election is only the latest evidence of the existing political institutions’ failure to deal with an electorate that is outgrowing them.

The indignados pointed this problem out eight years ago: their radical critique of representative democracy is just as relevant today. It is time for the demand at the heart of their movement, the demand for more direct participation that can bypass the impasses of party politics, to finally be taken seriously.

• Carlos Delclós is a sociologist and associate researcher at the Barcelona Centre for International Affairs (CIDOB). His views do not necessarily reflect those of CIDOB