Saturday, August 13

Whitewashed graves

“They are like whitewashed tombs, on the outside they give the impression of being righteous, but inside they are full of hypocrisy and wickedness”

Matthew 23:27

We have to be satisfied. We have almost lost count of the amount of evil and pain, injustice and rottenness that we have solved. We hardly even remember how we started this difficult and rewarding task. I do. They were the first revolutions we made from the sofa. You may not have a Twitter account at the time, but trust me, it was glorious. We accompanied the uprising that followed the immolation of Bouazzi and the Tunisians who broke moorings with their agony. Then we vibrate with the Egyptians, the Libyans, the Syrians and even the Yemenis, Algerians and Jordanians. It was an apotheosis of support and personal well-being. Do you remember? Do you know what happened in each of those places?

What difference does it make! We were super busy. We had a lot to do. Pray the children of the exiles who were found dead on the beaches, pray the real democracy or so many causes that we have fought from our comfortable sofa or from the beach or the traffic jam. In all this time we never did it for Afghanistan. It doesn’t matter, it’s our turn now. Now is the time for the great label rebellion and now is the time to solve everything that our soldiers have been protecting for 20 years without us paying any fucking attention to them. So little that they died flying back in shitty planes. That wasn’t much of a problem either until it became a weapon in our cheap and shitty political struggle.

I’m not talking about Afghanistan, God save me! I did a two-year master’s degree at the Gutiérrez Mellado Institute on these issues. At least I understand the complexity of the subject. I’m talking about us and our shit. Today is this and in a very short time the next fight will be sterile and banal and light. Unbearable for all this. In all those years, I have not seen a single battle in networks over this issue that, apparently, filled our hearts with concern. We are people waiting for the opportunity. It is now the moment of the tweet hit and there we have been, giving everything.

I read tweets asking to get women out of Afghanistan. I hear politicians who want to sign up to offer their territories for it. It’s just as free. Our messages. What women? How many women? All the women? There is no better idea. Those women are not fairground dolls. They are afraid but they are like us. They have husbands, children, lovers, parents. Are we going to evacuate all Afghan women and leave a country of only Sabino men? Do we offer them the shelter of the tear?

We fill the signatures, petitions, statements and networks with our demands, our support, our disagreement. What would we give in return? Not even giving up a day at the beach bar or on vacation, I’m telling you that. We can only thank the invention of these unloaders of consciences that allow us to remain as god without lifting a finger of the flip-flop.

There are still more levels in this game of the Pharisees, of the whitewashed tombs, of cynicisms and appearances. You see that everything is very old and has been labeled for centuries. It is the game of those who could still do something. It is an old journalism dilemma, from when there were still ethical dilemmas: should I take the photo or do I help? Do I just count or put my hands in shit and blood? Some, like Julio Fuentes, made it clear. I will not be the one to put myself ahead of the memory of those who knew how to do it. You have to be consistent. The Afghan judges are asking for help and I see that the judicial and prosecutorial associations of our country have made a joint statement. It is commendable, since the unskilled August of the courts. Is it more than a tweet? It takes a little more effort. You have to make several phone calls and agree on a text. The soul is just as calm, they tell me. Can they do something else? Oops, maybe put on your shoes and fly somewhere to talk to a politician or force yourself in some international organization or some diplomatic effort or a network of help with international organizations of magistrates or meet with the European commissioner or … take it off! !

What do we want? If we are against the withdrawal of international forces from Afghanistan and the Taliban taking power, what do we propose? What exactly do we ask politicians? What we ask, is it feasible? Part of the foundations of reality? The PP asking Sánchez to show his face and demanding that the planes arrive with the returnees. The PP of Yak 42. The PP that crashed our soldiers who were returning from Afghanistan on Mount Pilav (40 ° 48′24.77 ″ N 39 ° 39′21.86 ″ E / 40.8068806, 39.6560722) to save a few peels or to know and that, to greater shame and disgrace, he was not able to bring their corpses to the families with honor because the electoral result was more important than handing over confused members and the wrong corpses. Shame that falls on them and that will fall. Better shut up.

Welcome to the real world, that is, to this world of shit. To the valley of tears, my friend. I don’t like it either, but at least I am clear that we are not going to change it from the couch. One of the things the Taliban have always known is that neither their time is our time nor is their capacity to suffer ours. Hold on and wait. It is what they have done.

It is not that the United States is showing its weakness, it is that it is the weakness of all of us. As long as there are bad guys or good guys willing to live in dirty holes lurking in their struggle, to suffer for what they want, our army of tweeters and outraged will be only the sample of the decline and fall of the Western empire.

I have to leave you. I accumulate the manifestos, the hashtags, the meetings, the signatures, the Telegram groups. This life of revolution is tireless and you know it. It all ends when one wonders how many steps he would be able to take in favor of that fight, how many discomforts he could bear, how many defeats or how many evils.

Alas, how many on the outside give the impression of being righteous, but on the inside they are full of hypocrisy!

Oh, all of us!



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