I spent spring break in the town of Oñati, in the Basque region of Spain. I went mostly to do some research in the library of the International Institute for the Sociology of Law. Little did I know, however, that my sociological experience would become a flesh and blood encounter in political sociology — of how a whole nation can turn against leaders that fail to provide them security and honesty in times of danger.
I arrived in the Basque country on March 4, one week before the terror blasts in Madrid. The environment there was pregnant with politics. Elections were coming up, and the society was mobilized. It was in this charged political environment that 3-11 occurred. I awoke the that morning two hours after the first blasts in Madrid. In bars and cafes, spectators of the massacre were generally flabbergasted in front of TV sets. Clear déjà-vu crept over me, as I remembered the horrid day when the two towers fell in Manhattan, where I live.
Later that day, I heard the Spanish President Jose Maria Aznar speak solemnly. Without mentioning ETA, the armed Basque separatist movement, by name but without flinching in implying its guilt, he mentioned how these "terrorists" were enemies that could not be negotiated with. Other Spanish officials began to blame ETA, by name. Aznar sounded, as a friend of mine later emailed to me, as a kind of Bush "en español" using the "with us or against us" language employed by Bush in 9-11. It was here when I started to question the whole ETA link. Why was Aznar so quick to castigate ETA?What was the evidence?
My doubts began to crystallize further when Basque leaders began to speak on TV. They began to immediately call for "prudence" in claiming that ETA was responsible. They claimed that the methods and targets of 3-11 were too dissimilar from ETA's. ETA is a hideous organization. Its total death toll has surpassed 800 lives since its founding in the 1950s, making ETA no saint. However, ETA mostly attempts to kill government targets, such as judges and politicians, not common people. Moreover, Basque leaders pointed out that Spain's involvement in Iraq, in addition to the type of mass violence associated with Islamic fundamentalism, made the 3-11 attacks possible actions of Islamic militants — at least as much as ETA's.
Shortly later, Spanish police claimed that it found bomb-related materials and taped verses of the Koran in a truck, pointing to a possible Al Qaeda link. ETA also allegedly contacted the Basque newspaper, Gara, disclaiming any involvement in the events of 3-11. Meanwhile, Aznar kept pointing the finger to ETA, as if his own police were somehow missing something. But who was missing what?
By the evening of 3-12, thousands of Spanish citizens were protesting outside Aznar's Partido Popular headquarters in every major town and in many smaller cities, calling for clear dissemination of government information. In Bilbao, where I returned on 3-13, protesters accused "Islamism" (political, Islamic fundamentalism) and "Aznar" alike for the 3-11 attacks. I clearly heard several "your war, our deaths" bursts, in allusion to Aznar's decision to send troops to Iraq and inspiring Al Qaeda to kill Spanish people.
When I got back to New York on 3-14, the first thing that I did was to turn to the news to see the results of the Spanish elections. I had no idea that my reaction was going to be of so much joy when I saw that the Partido Popular had been clearly defeated in the elections. I cannot overstate my delight. In all this gloom, the Spanish people, wounded, were able to say "No more!" to their misleaders and retook their country. This was a reason for happiness. The Spanish people brought me hope from the despair of terrorism. Perhaps we will do as the Spanish when our turn comes in November.
Cesar F. Rosado is a graduate student in the Department of Sociology. You can reach him at rosado@princeton.edu.