The Cumbre Vieja volcano

The daily television images of the eruption of the volcano on the island of La Palma produce in me that strange fascination of the terrible and at the same time beautiful with which I sometimes watch those parades of robotised men in North Korea, so precise in their movements and orderly in their ranks as devoid of individuality and soul. The Nazis knew this too, which is why, with Leni Riefenstahl, they orchestrated mass spectacles that were both awe-inspiring and awe-inspiring at the same time. They are images in which plastic beauty is combined with repulsion for what they represent and for the damage they cause. Like the ones that these days show lava plunging into the Atlantic Ocean amidst clouds of toxic vapour from its contact with the water. What is by no means acceptable is the frivolity of the Minister of Tourism who considers the eruption as one more tourist attraction on the island of La Palma, a minister who says such nonsense does not deserve to remain in office.

This eruption apparently combines characteristics of two different types of volcanoes, the Strombolian, which spews out rocks and ash, and the Hawaiian, from which rivers of lava flow, burning and burying under their lava flows whatever they find in their path. And, in this case, what they find are greenhouses and banana plantations, the island's main source of wealth, and mostly humble dwellings, many built illegally and almost all uninsured. Roads have also been cut off, preventing the bananas from being harvested, and irrigation systems for crops that have not been destroyed.

Thus, there are many Palmeros who have lost everything in this eruption, their homes and their way of life, and who do not know how they will be able to get back on their feet from now on because the aid will arrive, but it will be late due to bureaucratic issues, as always, but not due to lack of will, and in any case, it will be insufficient. That is why the solidarity with which many people from the most diverse parts of Spain are responding is admirable, sending food and clothes to cover these first moments of the new life of people who have lost everything and who, on occasions, have only had fifteen tiny minutes to save the most essential things before the lava flow devoured their homes. Fifteen minutes to pick up a life. I wonder what I would take with me if I were in a similar situation and I imagine that the first thing I would have to do would be to calm down and try to think calmly and make the right decisions: documents, photographs, computer, some object of special sentimental value... The essential things to be able to start a new life with an identity, a family and memories that allow me not to start from scratch. Or not to start entirely from scratch.

Within the tragedy, at least, this volcano has given those fifteen minutes that have allowed lives to be saved and that unfortunately others did not have to suffer in a worse way the unleashed wrath of nature, as happened to the inhabitants of Pompeii and Herculaneum in 79 AD after the eruption of Vesuvius, or to those of Santorini 3,600 years ago, where the violent eruption of the Thera volcano probably gave rise to the legend of Atlantis and ended the Minoan civilisation in Crete. Fortunately, no one died on La Palma and domestic animals were also saved, and this is probably the only positive news of what has happened, because the damage to wildlife and flora on land and underwater has been and continues to be very serious.

Faced with this type of phenomenon, we feel truly insignificant, because in the 21st century there is nothing capable of stopping a flow of water coming down a hillside and devouring everything in its path. Nothing. Nor can we do much about hurricanes, prolonged droughts, torrential rains or rising seas, in short, the extreme natural phenomena that climate change seems to be bringing us, which is a direct consequence of the way we live, and which is leading us to overexploit the planet's natural resources and to deplete the ecological niche that sustains us. We feel helpless and astonished. Perhaps it would not be a bad thing to lower our spirits a little, to humbly recognise our powerlessness and to put aside so much arrogance.

Jorge Dezcallar, Ambassador of Spain