Mount Orégano

Time zones yawn wide. Florida is six hours behind Madrid, so the election night party in Madrid started when the party in Florida would have ended if Florida knew how to count votes — that is, a little before midnight on November 6, 2012.

Four years ago, Democrats Abroad Madrid, the local chapter of the overseas branch of the Democratic Party, had organized an election night party at the Circulo de Bellas Artes, a big, venerable cultural center. This year we went for Sala Galileo Galilei, an old theater recreated as a popular live music venue.

The 2008 election had generated extraordinary enthusiasm. In Spain, the vote had been simplified to one question: Would the United States, with its racist past, elect a black man as president? Americans and Spaniards wanted to witness history, so although we had hoped for 2,000 people at the party, more than twice that number wanted to attend. And the night had been magic.

Now, the stakes seemed less historic, although American passions ran high among both long-term residents and students who had come to study abroad. Economic troubles in Spain and the US meant that Spaniards were following the election with a more personal interest this time, since a strong US economy could help pull Spain from its recession. Romney tended to remind them of Merkel.

This year, we chose a more modest site for the party, which turned out to be ideal for a party of 500. At 11:30 p.m. a volunteer crew arrived for tasks like decorating and setting up food sales. I was helping with the media. We expected about 40 journalists, and some were already waiting for me, looking for people to interview and hoping they could circulate freely through the crowd. “Of course,” I said. “Make yourself at home and talk to anyone you want.” They did, to the entertainment of party-goers.

Journalists found plenty of local color in the people wearing campaign tee-shirts and hats. One man even wore an Obama campaign tie. A volunteer painted faces. I led a cameraman to one woman who had come with tiny flags painted on her nails, and she was happy to display them. Best of all, we had life-sized cardboard cutout of President Obama so we could pose for photos with it. One television reporter did her standup with her arm around its shoulders.

Mostly, we waited. And waited, watching CNN projected on a screen on the stage. At 1:10 a.m., Florida was reported to be leaning Obama, and we screamed even though the vote tallies were coming in slowly. An hour later, I was getting the Obama sunrise logo painted on my cheek, but we paused when singer Liza Tredway took the stage to lead us in the national anthem.

Then it was back to waiting, watching CNN’s dogged reporting, cheering or booing results and projections until we were hoarse, checking the Internet for news, sharing gossip and nervousness, buying a snack and a drink, and waiting...

At 4 a.m., the news looked very good, but too many states — especially Florida, whose count in key areas was far from certain — were still too close to call. At 5:15, we knew the final outcome was near. The cardboard Obama moved across the room to witness the results more closely.

Then, at 5:20, CNN called the election. We cheered, we hugged, we kissed. Cardboard Obama went bodysurfing through the crowd.

Only one thing remained: the victory speech. The crowd thinned. Someone had apparently kidnaped Cardboard Obama because it couldn't be found. But we kept waiting to see the final act of this long night.

It didn’t come. Romney wouldn’t concede, even though Fox News had declared Obama the winner. Finally, the hall had to close. A friend and I shared a cab home in the cold, dark morning, and when I got to bed at 6:40, Romney still hadn’t conceded.

This had been a heated election, but Obama wasn’t as historic as he had been in 2008. Instead, he was a sitting president with a record of successes and disappointments seeking re-election. The magic had dissipated, but another process had begun that would be analyzed and overanalyzed for days and weeks to come. His victory would change America. I knew I could see his speech on the Internet when I woke up. And maybe Florida’s votes would have been counted, too. (No, they weren’t.)

— Sue Burke

My university major was political science, so of course I had to read Leviathan, by Thomas Hobbes. In this book, written in 1651, Hobbes attempted to formulate a theory of a nation-state, and he did so wracked, as he admits, by fear. In 1640, in fear of his life, he had fled his home in Great Britain to Paris and then Holland during the English Civil War.

His book angered many people for its ideas about how states are formed by social contracts and about how states can only rule if they hold sufficient power by consent of the governed — among other radical ideas for his time and ours. Leviathan is still admired as one of the most well-reasoned philosophic inquiries into politics.

You can hear a discussion about it at A Partially Examined Life: a philosophy broadcast and blog: http://www.partiallyexaminedlife.com/2009/06/07/episode-3-hobbess-leviathan-the-social-contract/

Chapter 13 (read it here) has earned the most fame, and I think it has some bearing on the situation in the United States and the use of firearms:

Hobbes begins the chapter by pointing out that all people are equal because they can all kill each other — and while he envisioned that someone physically weak might need to do it “by secret machination or by confederacy of others,” now firearms make each of us indisputably able anyone to kill at will.

He then says that since, inevitably, we will all sooner or later want something that someone else has or disagree with each other, we will be distrustful of each other because none of us can be safe from anyone else unless there is a powerful institution larger than ourselves, a common power which we all fear that can enforce peace. Without it, we cannot trust each other.

Without it, we will inevitably fight: to take each others’ possessions, to defend our possessions, or over differing opinions, such as religion or politics. So, without that common power forcing us to behave peacefully, we are in a constant state of war with one another. In a total war of all against all, we can have no industry since we cannot be sure we can reap its profits, no business because we cannot trust each other, no arts, no society, but only “continual fear, and danger of violent death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”

And yet, he said, people want peace so they can have comfortable lives and the industry and business to create comfort. From this desire, people can be drawn into agreement to create a social contract for a peaceful civil society.

So much for Hobbes. And where is the US in this theory of government? Behind right-to-carry and “stand your ground” laws and increased arms sales, I see the perception that there is, here and now, a war of all against all — perhaps low-level, but very real. There is a perceived need to have a gun to be safe, even in a restaurant or movie theater, and certainly at home against intruders. The government is not perceived to be sufficiently powerful or competent to keep us safe, which Hobbes would consider a failed government.

Fear, and danger of violent death as a constant. No trust. And lives made smaller and poorer. Fights among citizens keep growing more vicious not just over possessions, but over opinions.

And yet, the vast majority of gunholders want peace and see no other way to secure it than by increasing their ability to kill at will, but I think this is a social contract in favor of greater war, not in favor of peace.

If Hobbes is right, this war does not need to continue. To stop it would take a willingness to create a social contract that involves everyone agreeing to give up some freedom to own and use lethal power at will — perhaps limiting the firepower of guns, perhaps requiring specific safety training for all gun owners, perhaps limiting the types of permissible munition, perhaps requiring insurance for gun owners the same way that cars must be insured. There are many other ideas that might begin to ratchet down the level of warfare.

These can be a hard concessions to make, which is one reason why Leviathan is a long book: what to give up, when, how, and the “unalienable rights” (in Hobbes’ words; the Founding Fathers had read him carefully) that cannot be agreed away.

Are we Americans willing to begin that long, hard process of negotiation to move away from a state of war and toward peace?

— Sue Burke

The movement goes by many names, especially 15M, because it began on May 15, 2011. A protest in Madrid last year turned into a camp, an occupation in the city's central plaza, Sol. The protesters are sometimes called the Indignados, indignant at the way the market economy is going. "We're not against the system, the system is against us," is one of their slogans.

The camp was broken up in summer and some thought — or hoped — the movement had waned. But on the one-year anniversary, the streets and plazas of Madrid were full of life again.

The protest converged on Sol from four directions. The South March came with music.

It filled Atocha Street.

This sign says: "The next time I'm voting for Ali Baba. That way only 40 thieves will rob me. It's been a year since the SUN same out." (Sol = Sun)

At Sol. The protest is reflected in the entrance to the subway.

A report and video at CNN:
http://edition.cnn.com/2012/05/12/world/europe/spain-protests/index.html?hpt=hp_t2

— Sue Burke

The movement goes by many names: Spanish Revolution, Real Democracy Now, 15-M (May 15, for the day of the first protest), or Los Indignados (Indignants).

Today, it organized a march in Madrid — and marches around Spain and the world — against the political response to the euro crisis.

The march came from all parts of Madrid Province. Four groups converged at Atocha, near my home, two others came from the north, and they all met at Neptune Fountain. Here's some photos from Atocha.

This group represents a few small towns in the Tajuña River valley southeast of Madrid.

Iceland refused to bail out foreign investors. The sign says, "Iceland, the way."

The group from the west and south arrived dancing to a battalion of drummers.

Politicians and the media have leaped at the chance to call the movement violent, extremist, the action of only of a handful of disaffected anti-establishment youths, and a danger to democracy. But the movement wants the system to work the way it's supposed to, for the benefit of the citizens, not the way it does now.

The banks have their finger on a red button, and if they push it, they will blow up the financial system. They have built an nuclear bomb out of money, so they can ask for anything.

The protest will continue.

I don't know yet how many people came to the protest in Madrid. Police expected 50,000. You can see a quick video of the crowd around Neptune Fountain here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=albsCH2SiKA

— Sue Burke

This post is part of Blog Action Day, an annual event held every October 15 that unites the world’s bloggers in posting about the same issue on the same day with the aim of sparking a global discussion and driving collective action. This year's topic is water.
http://blogactionday.change.org/

According to an old saying, Madrid, Spain, was "founded over water," and Madrid's name comes from its water: the matrice or "mother" arroyos and springs flowing with water that made it an attractive place for the Moors to erect a fortress in 852 A.D. Soon a village grew up around it and became renowned for the quality of its farm fields and gardens.

Madrid's patron saint, San Isidro (c.1080-1172), was a farm worker famous for the gift of detecting springs and ideal places for wells. Islamic civil engineers also created a system of underground galleries and pipes called viages de agua or "water voyages" that channeled water from springs and wells northwest of the village to serve its residents.

Christians conquered Madrid in 1085, and in 1202 it was granted its first municipal charter. The city of 10,000 people grew slowly until 1561, when King Felipe II named it the capital of Spain because of its central location. Four decades later, the population was 85,000. Though the viajes were continuously enlarged and extended, drinking water remained a problem, especially during droughts, which were frequent.

Water brought in by the viajes filled public fountains where the population got its water, bucket by bucket: 43 fountains in 1727. Households also bought water from aguadores or "water sellers" who transported water in jugs on their back, in handcarts, or by mule or horse.

Other aguadores carried a jug and cup and roamed the city on foot, shouting "Fresh water!" The painter Velázquez depicted one in his 1618 painting "El Aguador de Sevilla."

The city continued to grow, as did the need for water, and by the early 1600s, the shortage of potable water had already become apparent. Continued expansions of the viajes did not keep up with the need. In addition, people were demanding more and more water to satisfy changes in public and private ideas of hygiene. By 1850, about 50 viajes provided 10 liters of potable per day for a population that had grown to 200,000, and it was not enough.

In 1851, Prime Minister Juan Bravo Murillo wrote, "Madrid's existence is threatened by the shortage of water, and the government cannot remain any longer as a mere spectator to the current suffering of its inhabitants or await with indifference the calamities that threaten a large, fast-growing population."

Later that year, Queen Isabel II ordered the creation of the Canal de Isabel II, a public works project to create reservoirs in the Lozoya River far northwest of Madrid and to bring that water to the city. It was a big project that first needed the infrastructure to carry it out. One small detail involved setting up dovecots along the route for a rapid communication system: carrier pigeons.

By 1858, the first public fountain was opened with great fanfare. Over time, the Canal, which is now the public water utility, has expanded. Now, it serves 6 million people with 14 reservoirs, 81 wells, 22 large water tanks and 240 small tanks, 12 treatment plants, and 150 sewerage treatment plants.

In some ways, though, nothing has changed. The water flows to the city, one way or another, from the mountains and their aquifer north and west of the city, which get far more rain and snow than the plains. The climate is Mediterranean, which means that in the summer there can be little rain, and it's semi-arid, so there's never enough rain. Sometimes there are droughts. The reservoirs help maintain a regular supply, but they rarely get full even in the wettest years.

During a recent severe drought, the city and its residents had to cut back on water use 10 percent, and the scare was bad enough to change habits for good. But climate change models predict eventually more heat and less rain for Madrid, and the city keeps growing. Will there be enough water in the future? I won't live long enough to find out. If not, it will be the return of an old problem, and it may require totally new solutions.

— Sue Burke

These salt and paper shakers are gift from a Spanish friend who knows how much I supported Barack Obama and Joe Biden — and to her, they represent the executive duo. What better way to celebrate the first anniversary of their November 4 victory?

Well, I truly appreciate the generosity, but I think they're ghosts. What better way to celebrate Halloween?

Hope.
Boo!
You decide.

— Sue Burke

Today's New York Times Weekend Opinionator has gathered plenty of foolish opinions from around the web about "An Olympian Defeat for Obama."
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/10/02/weekend-opinionator-an-olympian-defeat-for-obama/?th&emc=th

Yesterday, the International Olympic Committee awarded the 2016 Summer Games to Río de Janeiro, turning down bids from Chicago, Madrid, and Tokyo. I write this rant from Madrid, where the outlook on the vote is quite different from these Obama-obsessed and US-centered commentaries.

The NY Times blog asks: "Did the president err in backing Chicago’s bid? And does the decision mean that the world still dislikes America?" No and no, I reply. Does it mark "the end of the so-called Obama Effect?" Again, no.

First, why did Obama go? "He has to come," said Edwardo Paes, Mayor of Río de Janeiro, on Tuesday. "He can't do anything else. The King (of Spain) is coming, Lula (da Silva, the president of Brazil) is coming, the prime minister of Japan is coming.... How can't he come? But he's different from them, he's someone we all respect because he can make needed changes in American politics. It's a very friendly gesture to come to an event like this.... It's an attitude of multi-lateralism."

But, Paes points out, Lula had been working on the bid for a long time. Obama flew in and out in four hours, and "wasted" a half-hour of that time talking to General McChrystal on Air Force One about Afghanistan.

It would have seemed weird to the rest of the world if Obama hadn't come. But to make a difference, he needed to have come early in the week and devoted himself to the bid, like Lula. And Obama has too much to do making changes in America for that, understandably.

Second, does the vote mean the world still dislikes America? No. Chicago offered a good but imperfect bid. The International Olympic Committee had concerns about public support for the Games, which was weak compared to Río and Madrid, and about funding. Problems with Olympic Games in Atlanta in 1966 and in Salt Lake City in 2002 didn't make the Committee feel better about the bid.

In the first round, Chicago got 18 votes, Tokyo 22, Río 26, and Madrid 28 — not exactly a clear example of anti-Americanism. It's true, absolutely true, that there's a lot of politics in the Olympics, but it's complex, multilateral politics, and while there's no doubt a bit of anti-Americanism, there's also antipathy and attraction toward many countries, regions, and individuals at play for all sorts of reasons beyond "politics" in the sense of national political policies. In the next voting rounds, all the votes from the cities that were eliminated went to Río. In the final analysis, all I can identify is pro-Ríoism. Or, rather, pro-Lulaism.

Finally, the Obama Effect: Obama created amazing excitement in Copenhagen. They even let him violate protocol so that members of the Committee could shake his hand, and a lot wanted to. He still has an effect.

But he's not the only guy with charisma. Don Juan Carlos I, King of Spain, spoke not only as a head of state but as an Olympic athlete (Munich, 1972, sailing) in three languages (beat that, Barack), telling how his grandchildren had volunteered to work in the Madrid Olympics. Spaniard Juan Antonio Samaranch, president of the International Olympic Committee from 1980 to 2001, now 89 years old, said his dying wish was to see Madrid get the Olympics.

None of that could beat Lula da Silva, statesman of South America. Obama didn't lose. Lula won big. Speaking on behalf of the continent, which has never hosted the Games, he told the Committee with simple but compelling accuracy: "Our time has come." Lucky for South America, he's a pragmatic and intelligent man, because he more than anyone else may determine its future.

"Río loves you" is the slogan for its bid. But more than that, the International Olympic Committee, like many other people, loves Lula — more than the Opinionators seem to realize, and for reasons they may have noticed.

— Sue Burke