Patience. This has asked the world Chilean justice who has been trying to clarify for years if Pablo Neruda died of cancer or was poisoned by the Pinochet regime. The thief of democratic power raised a few days before. The third international commission that investigates him has not been able to fulfill his objective and the poet’s nephew regretted it, hurt and indignant.
It would seem that, for an instant, he was carried away by that desperate song of his uncle with which his most celebrated collection of poems concluded. He Nobel prize, Instead, he had praised endurance when he declared that “only with ardent patience will we conquer the splendid city that will give light, justice and dignity to all men. Thus poetry will not have sung in vain.
In real life, on the other hand, praise for resignation, always recurring in churches of all kinds, sounds like stereotyped fiction. especially before collective misfortunes no matter how much they are repeated in sermons and obituary prayers. Or perhaps precisely because of this. When he knows that he has no other choice, the human being is fed up with others asking him for the endurance that he already applies. And more so when the tragedy is the result of the natural, unexpected imponderable, which does not discriminate but separates, which is not announced but pours out, which does not choose but condemns. And he hurts him because he knows that he is hurt too the negligence and indolence of public representatives away from their real obligations pending as they are of their own survival never sufficiently satiated.
To alleviate the weakness wrapped in farce, those pointed out always have left the rhetoric of the loquacious preacher, the image of deceptive proximity and the apparently remorseful face in a brief tour of the devastated area in which they know that they did not invest the necessary public resources or demand the construction control suggested by the technicians.
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Faced with so much deficiency, the response of the president of Turkey has been to ask for patience from the victims of the earthquakes. She did so amid the cries for help from the trapped bodies, the sobs of the helpless survivors, and the urgency of impotent help. And that was how Recep Tayyip Erdogan (Kasimpassa, February 26, 1954), stepped on the shaken ground three days later and attributed the misfortune to the plans of fate. He was trying to reverse the version of the opposition that denounced poor coordination. It had been perceived by the NGOs that tried to arrive earlier to open the blocked roads, expedite the saturated hospitals and distribute the retained blood.
For a few hours, Erdogan had descended into hell from the palace that he had built and where he has lived since 2014. Built in the middle of previously protected forests, the large building with more than a thousand rooms, a bunker, a convention center and an art gallery has nothing to envy to the large residences where history decided some of its transcendental pages. And so it was that the day it was inaugurated, it was revealed that that modest and unpretentious leader in whom the West trusted to contain the migrant and Islamist current that worried so much, had become the megalomaniac which occupies a prominent place among authoritarian leaders. Those grouped by Gideon Rahman in a book that denounces how the cult of personality threatens democracy in the world.