The Unwitting Anarchist
In central Madrid, just a few hundred metres away from the Palacio de los Cortes, Alberto Casillas stands quietly outside Café Prado. Dressed in his uniform – a white shirt, black tie and badly-fitted black trousers – he stares into the stream of traffic that flits past him on the opposing street. The mob of photographers that encircled the entrance to the café a few nights before have gone; so have the scores of protestors that packed tightly inside it, sheltering from riot police behind Alberto’s outstretched arms. After guarding them for about half an hour, Alberto’s defiance against the local authorities that night made him an inadvertent hero among the protestors, encapsulating their insurgent spirit. ‘I told the police they could not enter,’ he informed the Huffington Post, who uploaded a video of his valorous behaviour, ‘because there were a lot of people inside and because we are all human beings.’ He added, ‘I do not want to go against the law, but if they entered (into the café) there would have been a massacre. There were children and everything.’
Having worked at the Café Prado for the past three years, Alberto has witnessed personally how the protests of the 15-M movement, described a few months after its inception as ‘small’ and ‘inarticulate,’ have allowed the political group to become an influential societal force. By harnessing the unifying power of social media sites, its leaders have been able to summon large numbers of people to protest in the Spanish capital, most of which were initially peaceful. On May 18th 2011, the BBC reported that ‘about 2,000 young people’ gathered in Puerta de Sol, one of the largest squares in the city, for a ‘peaceful protest’ over Spain’s high unemployment rate, the highest in Europe. With the ‘crowd singing songs, playing games and debating,’ the general ambience of the protest was cheerful, perhaps even festive. Now the tone is changing, though: caused by Spain’s unstable fiscal situation, a more radical form of political activism has emerged among the most recent protests in the Spanish capital. ‘Society is now on the precipice of it starting to break,’ declares Alberto Casillas. ‘You can see it in people’s faces, the sadness and powerlessness. It is the image of fear, all you see is fear, fear, fear.’
On
September 25th 2012, the day that lead to Alberto pleading the police
to stop their violence, the 25-S movement, an offspring of 15-M, attempted to
occupy the Palacio de los Cortes with the bold intention of forcing ‘the
dismissal of the government.’ Unlike all previous protests of 15-M, the
atmosphere was somber and frighteningly serious. ‘We believe that
the current situation has exceeded all tolerable limits,’ their manifesto
claims, ‘and we are victims of an unprecedented attack from the economic
powers.’ Hunting in packs of two or three, the
police seemed to choose their victims indeterminately in the brutal violence
that ensued. They beat both innocent spectators and suspected protestors,
leaving some of them sprawled helplessly on the floor. (One man, after being knocked unconscious by one of the riot
police, was also left paralyzed). ‘I see a policeman shouting with a gun in his
hand,’ writes Jesus G. Pastor in El País.
‘I see a disarmed citizen pleading, knelt down and defenseless,’ and ‘I see
a victim that protests because they need things to change and they want to believe
it is possible.’ Alberto Casillas even compared the police’s behaviour to that
of Venezuela’s, whose members have been described as ‘a law unto themselves.’
‘I lived in Venezuela for 25 years and I saw this type (of behaviour) there, he
says. ‘Now I’m also seeing it here (in Spain).’
At the Council of the Americas conference in New
York the following day, Mariano Rajoy, the Spanish President, addressed the
nation, praising the country’s silent citizens who did not protest the previous
evening, who simply accept the hardships his government imposes upon them. ‘You
do not see them, but the are there,’ he said. ‘They are the majority of the 47
million people that live in Spain,’ and ‘they are people that suffer,
shouldering enormous difficulties.’ During his visit to the United States, one
that had the intention of recuperating some of Spain’s economic credibility, he
also declared: ‘the perception of Spain does not correspond with the reality.’
However, in what is most likely an attempt to appease the world’s media, is it
not the Spanish government that creates a false impression of its current
situation? Jorge Fernández Díaz, the Minister for Home
Affairs, described the police’s behaviour on September 25th as
‘magnificent’ and ‘splendid,’ despite the videos
recorded by protestors and spectators that firmly suggest otherwise. Conrado
Escobar, a spokesman for the same ministerial department, also said the police
were ‘brilliant’ and ‘exemplary.’ By failing to reflect the truth of events
that evening, these statements do not unify the Spanish public to its
government: they simply push them even further away. However,
regardless of whether they are silent or not, the majority of Spanish citizens
have already been pushed too far by their government. Let us hope that the
actions of Alberto Casillas, then, a man who prevented police attacking their
fellow citizens, do not foreshadow what awaits Spain.
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