The detention of the Global Sumud Flotilla in the waters of what the Israeli government calls the exclusion zone is, on the one hand, confirmation of what everyone knew was going to happen, as Eugeni Garcia Gascón's article in this newspaper explains well. But at the same time, it is an important episode that reveals, highlights, and underscores a series of facts: one, the Israeli government continues to block the arrival of humanitarian aid, even from a peaceful initiative (the Flotilla has rightly emphasized that it is completely unarmed) of civil society. Two, the Israeli government continues to resort to the use and abuse of force against anyone who dares to disagree with its war of ethnic cleansing in Gaza and Palestine. Three, as a result of the above, it is indisputable that the Israeli government continues to violate human rights and international law. Four, given this situation, the silence and passivity of the international community, genuflecting before the threats and arbitrary actions of Donald Trump's government, is alarming and even dangerous (and in this context, and although paradoxical, the withdrawal of Italian and Spanish military support vessels makes sense, as a way to avoid harm).
We knew all this, but the Flotilla has exposed before everyone the naked king that is a government like Israel's, falsely democratic and victim-oriented to the point of perverting the memory of the Holocaust. The Flotilla is an expression of a global citizenry—a concept we should assimilate and understand—that refuses to resign itself to following such a blatant violation of human dignity through the media and social networks. For this reason alone, the members of the Flotilla deserve to be respected. They may be more or less stubborn about their organizational problems or the prominence of their most famous members. But their commitment and courage cannot be disputed: it takes courage to stand up to armed forces like the Israelis, accustomed to shooting first and then excusing themselves with pretexts of strikes: a mistake, etc. This is how they have murdered dozens of journalists, doctors and paramedics, and members of the Red Cross. Shooting at someone they have identified as a "provocateur" or "terrorist" would not have been a surprise.
The bravery of the Flotilla members also contrasts with the cynicism of those who, from the most complacent passivity, have dedicated themselves to blaming or mocking them. This has been well denounced on social media by journalist Rita Marzoa and poet Míriam Cano (who, incidentally, recently published Metamorphosis, a splendid memoir in prose of our Mediterranean condition): it feels bad to be fellow citizens of certain languages. Especially—now that we have remembered the 1-O referendum again—of those who have had the baseness to reproach the Catalans for supposed cowardice for not having resorted to armed confrontation with Spain and now mock those who defy armed brutality with a mission of peace and assistance to the helpless.
