The digital skin is sensitive to spring eruptions and this weekend the war hypothesis has shaken social networks with the bombing – a bit of a lie – from Iran to Israel. Tehran has shown to have a greater sense of restraint and geopolitical responsibility than the main actors in the genocide in Palestine and, as if it were the theater of fencing, it announced its intentions in a timely manner to its opponents so that no one would get hurt. . It is good, among all that is wrong, that in a world today at the mercy of far-right nationalists like Putin and Netanyahu, the Iranian theocracy has a sense of risk.
In any case, the Iranian drone attack repelled by Israel with the help of Washington has made Iran, Israel, Netanyahu, Melendi, the four horsemen of the apocalypse, and, of course, World War III, trendy.
The playwright Fernando Arrabal insisted thirty years ago on breaking up a TVE set because sooner or later millennialism would arrive. And we have it here, an eventual war apocalypse as a faster way to resolve the human footprint on the planet and the sustainability of our consumption of fossil fuels.
There is an undisguised solace in the way in which social networks comment on the escalation of war so brazenly sought by the Israeli prime minister to cover up the shame of his mountains of corpses of murdered children. The most sagacious Chinese curse, “I hope you live in interesting times,” is designed for humans, not for its digital version, so that we seem to crave nothing more than to live in a time full of interest and dramatic twists, nothing bores us more than stability politics and historical tedium.
Because, if we look at it with perspective – and despite the fact that in this profession we live by striving to give energy to the script of human history –, there have been few periods less mournful and vertiginous than the one that began in 1945, after World War II. , and whose foams bring us until this Monday. Even with two wars in the hallways of Europe that, unless the purposes of Putin and Netanyahu triumph, should never reach us.
The involuntary resistance to being extras in a novel without an epic is curious, and yet the Chinese are right, the best thing that could happen to us – not to mention the Russians, Israelis, Ukrainians and Palestinians – is for the guns to fall silent and the insults to return. to the networks about any fashionable reality show or about the minute and result of Spain, our zarzuelita, breaking up.
In the memorable end of the world that the blessed José Luis Cuerda recreated in As in Heaven as on Earth (1995), the apocalypse was a musical – when God squeezes, chokes but well, said Gomaespuma – in which the choir sang: “Apocalypse, end of history, / final judgment and resurrected flesh.” And speaking of the return of the rotten, Fernando VII was also a trend yesterday.
