Saturday, 26 March 2016

Senza parole

A city I did not want to visit.

A wounded city, with panic and fear, sadness and anger. Anger at the terrorists, at the Belgian intelligence service, at foreigners altogether.

A city where you show solidarity by writing on the walls of your only monument. And yet, maybe 50 nationalities are standing there and lighting candles. Welcome to Brussels, capital of Europe, capital of jihad too. Where the police of a different commune had the address of the most wanted man for months but did not communicate it to the other office. Where terrorists order a big taxi for their suitcases full of explosives but the taxi company sends a too small one. Where they ask you to go at the airport 5 hours in advance for a 2 hour flights.

In other parts of the world controls are everywhere I am told. But we are in Europe, we built it on peace and solidarity, we cannot turn it into a war zone because different governments cannot get to work together. People do not want to give up their right to go for a beer with friends. Keep drinking your beer but police in the street, border checks, fear of the foreigner is a new normal which takes us back 100 years.

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