Valencia Is Not Forgotten ━ The European Conservative

The Spanish government wants to impose the narrative that the state has everything under control and that life has returned to normal in Valencia, but what those affected are telling us completely shatters this narrative.

On October 29th, 2024, Valencia suffered one of the greatest disasters in its history. The gota fría—the cold snap—caused torrential rains and the overflowing of rivers and ravines, leaving more than 200 dead along with incalculable material damage. The response of the authorities, both at the regional and state level, was utterly ineffective, and tens of thousands of people found themselves abandoned by the state that was supposed to protect them. 

But, in the midst of the chaos, the tragedy brought out the best in many Spaniards, as thousands of volunteers threw themselves into the mud to help their compatriots. Without them, this tragedy would have had far more serious consequences. 

Today, the state is present and several thousand military personnel are working to build bridges, fix roads, and clean garages, but the destruction is so great that they are not enough. In addition, the tragedy has shown a surprising lack of means—from machinery to fuel—of a military that tries to make up for these deficiencies with effort and will. It is worth remembering that our soldiers are in one of the lowest-paid professions and that the condition of many of our weapons systems is lamentable. The defense policy of our various governments has left us at the mercy of others.

Unfortunately, when an event ceases to be news, it seems as if it no longer exists, and that is what has happened with the tragedy in Valencia. The media spotlight has moved on and many have the impression that everything is back to normal. We wish it were so, but the reality in which many Valencians live is far from normal.

More than two months after the ‘gota fría’ episode, Paiporta still smells of mud. The town became famous for the events five days after the floods, when the king and queen of Spain and the prime minister, Pedro Sánchez, arrived in the town surrounded by a legion of attendants and policemen. The king and queen held their ground and listened to the outrage of the locals; Sánchez, on the other hand, fled with his tail between his legs, blaming the “far right” for what had happened. “It is another lie, those who insulted Sanchez were neighbors from the town. What did they expect? They left us stranded for days,” says Yolanda, a nurse who lives in the town with her family, showing us the destroyed ground floors—in Paiporta alone, there are 2,520 ground floors of destroyed houses—and garages still flooded with mud, posing a health risk to those who live on them.

The lies told by politicians and the media about what happened in the first days of the tragedy have left their mark on many residents of the affected villages, and graffiti against Sanchez adorns the walls of destroyed houses. Many no longer believe anything the government says, much less the official number of dead and missing. 

“The deaths caused by the flood are presented as traffic accidents or other causes,” says Yolanda, recounting the case of a neighbor who died from being hit by an object swept away by the water. Other people tell us the same thing, that authorities want to reduce the real number of victims in order to minimize the scope of the disaster or with a view to future compensation. Many are still in shock and have not fully come to terms with what has happened, and the most vulnerable, the elderly and children, are the ones who suffer the most from the psychological effects of the flood. One volunteer told us about a couple whose two children refuse to go out into the street unless they are wearing arm floats.

With the arrival of Christmas, great efforts have been made to restore the joy of this season, and Paiporta is decorated with Christmas stars made by local children—a stark contrast to the surrounding destruction more typical of a war zone. Gas supplies are inadequate and much infrastructure is still in shambles and months away from being restored. For example, it is estimated that work to restore the Paiporta metro will not be completed until the summer. Combined with the loss of more than 120,000 vehicles, this has left many unable to commute to work or school.

There is also a serious security problem. Many businesses have been boarded up out of fear of looting and squatting. Jesús, a local policeman, tells us that as the water levels began to drop, looting of businesses began and they even tried to steal machinery and water pumps to empty the garages. 

What surprised me and all the people in these villages is that no one came here in the first few days. If we have to wait for a politician to give the order to respond to a tragedy like this, we are a failed state. 

Many have thought the same thing, and Jesús has met police officers from other provinces who went to Valencia on their own to help. Here, again, the problem was the incompetence of the state, which sent the message that volunteers were no longer needed.

In Chiva, the town where the flooding began, we spoke with Nieves, Elisabeth, and Elvira—three volunteers who bring appliances, clothes, and food to the victims. This afternoon, they are bringing heaters to two families and have not stopped helping since the first day. “There is still a lot to be done,” they assure us, “because the aid is not reaching most of the victims.” They introduce us to Juan, a 74-year-old farmer who saw his century-old house flooded in a few minutes (the water reached a height of 2.37 meters) and who lost everything. Juan has not received any help, except from volunteers, because of bureaucratic obstacles: “They ask me for the deeds of the house and I don’t have them because the water took them away,” says Juan, speaking from a room destroyed by the flood. Bureaucracy, both institutional and from private insurers, is a real nightmare for people like Juan, who also receives help from the volunteers in this regard.     

Within this volunteer work, we must highlight the role of young people. In Paiporta, we met Asier, a 19-year-old young man who has spent the last two months removing mud. “It’s the right thing to do,” he says, and his case is an example of young people who are stepping up to the plate and surprising many with their commitment. Also noteworthy are the efforts of volunteers who come to Valencia from other provinces to bring all kinds of help. “When I went to the affected areas for the first time, my heart sank. That’s why I can’t stop coming here,” said Nacho, a security guard from Toledo who uses his days off to bring all kinds of aid.

While we were in Chiva, we got in touch with Pablo from Revuelta, who was in Paiporta. He had left Madrid early in the morning with other colleagues to install a stove in the home of an old woman, to bring hot water to the home of a Colombian family with a newborn baby, and to help two other families. We did not see each other because after the four visits, they returned to Madrid. 

To Pedro Sánchez, this is a hate campaign of the “extreme right”. There is no better example of the difference between reality and official spin. The truth is that Valencia needs all our help and volunteers are still needed. It is evident that authorities want to impose the narrative that the state has everything under control and that life has returned to normal, but the accounts of those affected shatter this narrative entirely. That is why it is so important to keep talking about what is really happening. 

Valencia will not be forgotten.