The light in the horror of this war

At the end of January, in this space, I expressed my hope that in Ukraine the rope would not be broken - despite how tense it already was - and that sanity and diplomacy would win out, while recalling how in Syria life was normal until it ceased to be so, a normality that has not yet been recovered. And more than ten years have passed.

Unfortunately, that hope was dashed, there was no room for agreement or concord, and the Russian army began the terrible invasion of its neighbouring country: Ukraine. The first images of this Russian advance left us frozen, even though we knew that the negotiations were not going well and that the threats would eventually be carried out. Perhaps we did not want to believe it. Perhaps we needed not to.

A mixture of disbelief and uncertainty settled over us as reality dawned on us, opening our eyes to make us aware of the obvious: the war had begun.  A war that reflects fragility, that shows us how life, as we have seen on many other occasions, changes in an instant. Two long and terrible weeks have already passed, with their days and nights, with their deaths, fears and uncertainties, with their bombs, shelters and escapes, with their struggles, principles and bravery, with their lies, misunderstandings and rage, with too many tears...

And, once again, history shows us that we have not learned our lesson, that cruelty and evil emerge when the lust for power takes precedence, when we look to the past to seek what we have become, to impose what we want, whatever the cost. Freedom is being paid for by destruction in Ukraine, by death on both sides (hundreds of young people, almost children, Russians and Ukrainians), and by the arrests of those in Russia who raise their voices to condemn this miserable war, to plead for peace.

Putin is a dangerous madman who is too sane. His goal is clear in his mind, and he will not relent in his occupation. And Ukraine, together with its president, Volodymir Zelensky, has also shown the world that it will hold out, that it will resist despite its inferiority, because the defence of its country and democratic principles justifies not surrendering. And while this tragedy, this senselessness, fills us with sadness, with unanswered questions.

What can we expect from those who do not even respect human corridors? Even in war there are rules to abide by, however absurd it may seem. 

We are not seeing the most violent and bloody destruction of this conflict, but we don't have to. A small hand behind the glass that covers a bigger one in a farewell; a child travelling alone with a phone written on his hand; an old woman looking at her collapsed house; the woman carrying her pet in her arms; the little boy crying angrily without understanding what is happening; a solitary suitcase; the search for balance when crossing a non-existent bridge; a train station crowded with people and fear; a line of citizens walking towards the border fleeing from a present as uncertain as the future (more than 2 million refugees); a man who walks sunken after a goodbye; the kiss of a couple, perhaps the last one... No, you don't need to see the thousands of deaths in this conflict to be heartbroken.

We could also delve into the economic war, the rising prices of gas, oil, electricity, food... figures that were already soaring before this wretched war came along. But no, we will not close these words with the sanctions and financial restrictions and their consequences, but with that small light in the midst of so much horror that makes us think that there is still room for hope in this world: the goodness of thousands and thousands of citizens.