Remembering the horror in Madrid

It happened one year ago today, in Madrid. That evening I sat down, stunned, and blogged a short post about the attack. Early the next morning I found the following, extremely poignant comment on that comments board:

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 ribbons, 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

I have just re-read this wonderful comment, very carefully.
First of all, thank you once again, dear Maria, for your eloquent witness and the somber thoughtfulness that you and, it seems, the vast majority of your compatriots showed in reaction to that terrifying outrage.
Secondly, I bow my head pondering the tragedy of the lives summarily ended that day, and send my solidarity to all those survivors of the attacks, and those bereaved by them– people whose lives were changed forever by that heinous attempt to entangle the civilian population of Greater Madrid in somebody else’s battles for power, control, and domination.
Finally, I don’t want to load this post, today, with too much politicking. But I merely note the difference between the reactions Maria–and goodness knows how many other observers– noticed among the Spanish people to the attacks of that day, and the reactions of many people in Lebanon’s opposition movement to the more recent terror attack against Rafiq Hariri.
Read what she described:
I also saw solidarity… I saw people gathering in the streets, asking for justice, not revenge… All immigrants were invited to go to hospitals, to heal their wounds, to see their relatives… A lot of black ribbons, 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…

It seems to me that– quite counter to the terrorists’ intent– Spain emerged from the attacks much stronger as a nation, and confirmed in its people’s understanding of and adherence to the solid values of constitutional democracy.