People trapped in a deadly trap: The Valencian Government’s Negligence Has Significantly Worsened the Consequences of the Floods
The disappearance of the President of the Generalitat during the crucial hours of the floods highlights a lack of capacity to manage a catastrophe
The storm that has ravaged the central regions of the Valencian Country, the most populated strip, is by far the most severe in contemporary times. What was initially announced as a “dana” (the new term for “cold drops” that Valencians are so familiar with) has resulted, thus far, in a provisional toll of 62 dead and dozens still missing. People who cannot locate their loved ones and places where rescue teams are unable to enter even twelve, fourteen, or sixteen hours later. And, for now, material damages are incalculable.
This dana had been announced, publicized, commented upon, written about, drawn, and explained in a way that seemed almost excessive. Authorities had time to prepare, to activate every possible system to prevent harm to the population. Measures to protect people should have gone beyond school or university closures taken by some local councils.
But something went wrong to produce such a terrifying provisional figure. Today, even though waters are starting to recede and reveal the landscape of devastation, it’s not yet the aftermath. Today is still “the day.” The “day after” will be when we clarify what happened, why it happened, who made which decisions, and who conveyed which messages.
In this tragedy, which reeks of diesel mixed with mud, of tears and desperation, there is an implacable chronology. There is a series of political decisions that, read in sequence, give a picture of the lightness with which policies were executed, the lack of political weight of those who make and implement them. They reveal a desolate panorama: the irresponsibility and negligence of those managing public administrations—in this case, President Carlos Mazón (PP).
The Consell, the Valencian government, took office in July of last year. In November, it abolished the Valencian Emergency Unit. This was part of its electoral program, and Vox, its allies, demanded it loudly. They called it a “chiringuito” (a derogatory term meaning “boondoggle”) of former socialist president Ximo Puig. They stated it this way and even tweeted it—a post that resurfaced when the Campanar building caught fire last February: “The Valencian Emergency Unit, the first agency of Ximo Puig dismantled by Carlos Mazón. The first step in the restructuring of the public business sector announced by the Valencian government.”
The Consell decided it could do without a global emergency management body, thereby removing a layer of protection for the population.
Eleven o’clock in the morning of Tuesday was a key moment to perceive the solitude of Valencians facing this catastrophe. At eleven, the spokesperson for the Consell, Ruth Merino, was supposed to hold a press conference to explain the Consell’s decisions. At eleven, the Spanish government’s delegate, Pilar Bernabé, was expected to report on the morning’s developments after a very tough night in Safor and Ribera. And at eleven, the President was scheduled to make statements after attending a sectoral event. The statements overlapped.
Bernabé explained which roads were closed and a few incidents, but little more. Ruth Merino mentioned the number of schools closed and also listed closed roads, adding little more. President Mazón was more expansive in his statements. Expansive and oddly optimistic, despite media coverage that had already been broadcasting special programming on the human tragedies, stories of people unable to reach work, flooded basements, and the swelling Magre River, which originates in Utiel. Yet he said:
“As for hydrological alerts, the reservoirs are well below capacity. They are absorbing the incoming water without any issues. There is no hydrological alert for any reservoir so far. So, I’d like to emphasize that the rains are particularly affecting the Magre River, but so far, we have no hydrological alert. This is good news at this hour.”
And he added: “According to the forecast, the storm is moving towards the Serrania de Cuenca, and consequently, by around six in the evening, the intensity is expected to decrease across the rest of the Valencian Community.”
After these statements, the president continued his agenda, meeting with various people and taking photos that were disseminated through the communication channels of the presidency. He made no further comments on the floods.
It was half-past eleven when Mazón made these statements. At 11:45, the Emergency Coordination Center issued a special hydrological alert for the riverside towns along the Magre River. “Alert of increased flow in the Magre River with a record of 350 cubic meters per second. Riversides and towns along the Xúquer River up to the mouth in Cullera are warned.”
If, when the president spoke, he knew that the Magre River was becoming a danger to the population and did not say so, he committed a highly reprehensible act. If he did not know, it was also serious, as it showed he did not know what he was talking about when he said the reservoirs could contain the water that was already spilling over the riverbed. He called for caution, of course, but conveyed a message of calm that bore no relation to what was actually happening.
A few hours later, at five in the afternoon, the Xúquer Hydrographic Confederation began to release water from the Forata Reservoir in Yátova. Thus, it ceased its regulatory function, and the Magre River surged towards Algemesí, meeting the Xúquer. It devastated everything in its path. The images circulating on social networks left no doubt that this was a catastrophe of unknown dimensions.
At the same time, the Poio ravine also filled rapidly, flowing towards the Albufera of Valencia. Disbelieving residents and workers in the metropolitan area of Valencia, where it had barely rained all day, found themselves trapped in a deadly trap. They were in cinemas, shopping for furniture, at work. And there they spent the night. Or they died. The president had spoken of calm at half-past ten in the morning, and he had not been seen since.
He did not appear again until after half-past nine in the evening. And when he did, he communicated nothing—neither information, nor reassurance, nor encouragement, nor any sense that he had control over the situation. Rather, he admitted that they lacked significant information, that rescue teams couldn’t reach certain places, that communications were indeed down, and that they had no confirmation of fatalities. His statement left the population with an extraordinary sense of vulnerability. The President of the Generalitat appeared, in a corridor, before the microphone of public TV À Punt and the Presidency’s microphone, to say that À Punt was the official broadcaster. Thus, incidentally, he muzzled the press, who could only report what the Generalitat said.
An Empty Statement
The president’s silence became an unprecedented cry from people trapped, soaked, lost, and terrified. Testimonies began to emerge from people abandoned on highways, in shopping centers, in a funeral home… People calling 112 and getting no answer. People on rooftops watching firefighters pass by because they couldn’t help them.
In the middle of this wild, dark, windy, and rainy night, President Mazón appeared again. It was past half-past twelve in the morning. He had donned the red vest of emergency services and spoke of fatalities without specifying a number. As he had done with the Campanar fire, he hid in the darkness to deliver bad news. This time he could not provide an estimated number of fatalities, nor could he give precise information on what was happening. Empty words to say that the Spanish government’s Military Emergency Unit was now working. Nothing more.
Until this morning, when the count stands at 62 dead, for now. Sixty-two lives cut short in an episode of intense, fierce rain. Perhaps the most severe ever seen in the Valencian Country, yet announced, marked, and warned of.
