Horror in Madrid; stunned silence in Bilbao

How ghastly, how world-shattering for Madrilenos today’s multiple bomb attacks were.
It is still quite unclear if these were Basque radicals, or Islamist extermists, or some new coalition between those forces.
What struck me on the BBC TV news tonight, after all the grisly footage and anguished interviewees in Madrid, were scenes of a massive silent gathering of people in downtown Bilbao. They looked so thoughtful, so sad. In their just silent getting-together, they seemed clearly to be repudiating those in their midst who might have (as I assume they judged) committed those outrages.
If it was indeed Basques who did it, and if that repudiation in Basque-land was really so widespread, then surely some Basque people will start to give some tips or leads to the police.

    This is all part of my theory of fighting terrorism by changing the minds of those who condone terrorism. But I don’t want to jump on any “bandwagon” of the horrific events of today in order to propound a theory. I truly want to let the horror and the sadness just stand, and be silent. Being silent together on occasion is something we Quakers find very powerful.

One thought on “Horror in Madrid; stunned silence in Bilbao”

  1. Dear Helena,
    I steadily visit your page, and I was very pleased you have blogged something about the events in my country, in my city. In Madrid.
    I feel sad, furious and shocked.
    Yesterday I saw things on TV and the papers I would have never imagined I was to see in my country. Destroyed corps, blood, tears, anguish.
    The people in those trains were workers, students, immigrants.
    But I also saw solidarity. I saw people queing for hours to give blood. Sick people in hospitals left their rooms so the harmed ones could have more places. The security forces were quite surprised to see that things were pretty organised when they arrived at the stations: the survivors had not run away, they had stayed to help the others, healing wounds, saving people out of the twisted irons, cleaning. Neighbours run with blankets and water, people risked their lives without questioning for a second whether it was safe to do so.
    I saw people gathering in the streets, asking for justice, not revenge. We don’t want another Guantanamo, we don’t want a war, just the terrorists to be taken to court with all the constitutional guarantees. Because we are a democracy.
    All immigrants were invited to go to hospitals, to heal their wounds, to see their relatives… no one would ask them whether they were “legal”.
    People in the Basque Country, in Catalonia, in Galicia, in Andalusia, in the entire country, chanted the same: “We were all in that train”
    A lot of black ribbongs, some flags as well but not too many. We don’t care that much about flags.
    Most politicians were extremely cautious and responsible in their remarks. King Juan Carlos said we are a great nation.
    I still don’t know whether this is the result of a (in my humble opinion) a very very wrong foreign policy, or simply the act of the same fascists we have been putting up with for more than two decades (the CNN, among other media, calls them “Basque separatists”). We will know sooner or later.
    But the thing is that today, more than ever, I feel proud of my city, of my country, of my people. I feel proud of being Spanish.
    Madrid, te quiero.
    Maria

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