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Candle. Anonymous. Via Pixabay. |
The 229th victim of the DANA died in her mother’s womb. 229 Valencians are missing, taken by a fatal destiny. I think of their lives on that 29th of October last year. It was a Tuesday like any other and, had it not been for the bad weather combined with irresponsible decisions, we would not have to mourn the fact that they are no longer among us. While no one sounded the alarm, they were leaving their beloved land, unaware of the danger that would strip them of their soul and existence.
229 are missing
They remain in nothingness, the most absolute void, because they left without being able to say goodbye. Because those who remain do not have them. Because they will never again see the sunlight brushing the Mediterranean mists, nor feel the Tramuntana wind or the burst of a thunderstorm. The grief of the 229 families has broken our hearts. We will never know the moral strength it takes to move forward, but we do know how to stand by them in their fight to demand justice and reparations.
Because the lives lost are an irrecoverable treasure, because broken lives must have meaning, and because no one, no matter how powerful, can escape their responsibilities as if it were none of their concern. Though reality sometimes carries a kind of poetic justice that puts everything back in its furrow. One need only read the latest survey published in LEVANTE-EMV on how Valencians perceive Mazón. And this is not about hunting for a scapegoat, but this man has responsibilities—like facing justice head-on.
Fake news versus clicks
And just like that, a year has passed. We will never again look at the autumn sky the way we used to. In fact, we will never think of October as just October. October is the month of the DANA. The month when many of us returned to a Valencia that looked like the set of a science-fiction film, but which, cruelly, was real. As real as the empty Ams roundabout in the capital. Sirens, military trucks, and lines of Valencians waiting for the bus that replaced the trenet service.
Meanwhile, the media machine roared into action to bear witness to the moment. Immediacy, proximity, catastrophe. Audiences hungry for information and fake news peddlers ready to sell their souls to the devil for clicks. The result: far more information, but of much worse quality. And amid all the news-making, reality got lost among more or less biased reports, buying and selling versions of the facts.
The catastrophe as news, or the news of the catastrophe?
When taking stock of this past year, it’s worth reflecting on the media coverage of the disaster. The concept of “news” is that which is new, unprecedented, and naturally carries such a powerful element of singularity that it compels you to want to know more. In this context, the news is amplified by proximity and the drama that, unfortunately, accompanied the catastrophe.
Thus, the informational cocktail is perfect. These past months, we’ve consumed hours upon hours of content about the DANA. I don’t intend to delve too deeply into communication theory here. But I do want to point out how the catastrophe as news has turned into the news of the catastrophe. The primary event, the fresh information, has gradually given way to a stage—sometimes grotesque.
Outcry
On that stage, heroes, villains, and victims have appeared. And in the end, the people who suffered watch this spectacle, aware that the spotlight and the stenographers—despite the collateral noise—are necessary to stand firm. I often think of the families of the deceased victims, of all the people whose lives have been upended, and of how hard it must be to face the day-to-day reconstruction—not just physical, but emotional.
May we never again have to endure a catastrophe like this. May we never again have to live with irresponsible politicians like Mr. Mazón and those around him. We don’t deserve it. A kiss to the sky for the 229 Valencian men and women who are no longer here. And may justice put everyone in their rightful place on Valencian soil.