A per capita country and the Lebanon war (with Europe in between)

Time for holidays, of unpretentious readings (how I miss the Summer of the “Da Vinci Code”…) and of futilities to relax. Parties with sardines or vodka, with foam or salami. Going south, to the coast, towards a heat that is attenuated by the sea.

Escaping the everyday buzz to try and understand it better. Everything is in pre-epoch in Portugal. Everything is ok. Those who can, go to the hotel. Those who sort of can, rent a place and share the costs with family and friends. Those who almost can’t, try to enjoy a couple of escapes to the beach. Those who cannot, either pretend they can or stay at home.

We are important people and that allows us to go on holidays in a relaxed manner. We are important, not only because we are one of the four better football squads of the world, but also because our C-130 travels, “at UN’s request”, between Italy and Beirut. And it is the only one. The national logic and the journalistic presentation of these two “important things” is more or less the same. One like the other let us at ease with ourselves.

On the one hand, we are good at doing what we like, that is, to play football (and everything associated to it: from Super Bock to cafe chit chat). All this despite us being a small country, make notice therefore that, in per capita terms, we clearly were the world champions.

On the other hand, we do per capita our very meaningful part, in helping the international effort to respond to the conflict in Lebanon. I repeat, our C-130 travels, “at UN’s request”, between Italy and Beirut to transport humanitarian aid. And it is the only one. Drawn in jealousy super-powers. It is on these little details that great nations define themselves!

Strangely, nobody seems ask why the hell is our C-130 the only one doing this work. But this does not matter. What matters is that it is the only one and it is Portuguese and that Portugal, in spite of being a small country, leads the aerial humanitarian effort to help the victims of the bombardments. That really puts me at ease. What else could we have done? It already had been our Minister of Foreign Affairs (MFA) who had asked for a special meeting of the MFA of the EU about this subject and now we had our plane that just keeps landing in Beirut filled with humanitarian aid.

It is true that, once again, the EU was completely incapable of taking a common stance that someone understands. It is also true that the international intervention plan in this conflict seems to be peacefully (to give Israel more time to do its “work”) prepared by the USA, by talking to those that matter. And, in Europe, it is France and the United Kingdom that matters (and, in a second level, Germany and Italy). The EU does not have armed forces prepared to die by the orders of the President of the Commission of of the European Parliament or of the Council. In Foreign Policy and Defence, the EU could be a vision or a Project, but it is not (I do not know if it must be) a reality.

As I have said before, us Portuguese, are at ease because we have already done what we could. Nowadays we are in the need of holidays, of pink magazines, of “Da Vinci Code” sequels, of open-air discos and pretty people. Pretty people like those who appeared on Beirut’s photography, the Paris of the Middle East, once again bombarded on a daily basis. Many of those pretty people should already have gone out of the city and the country (at least pretty people with appropriated nationality, that is, not Lebanese, and/or with enough money).
In Lebanon and Israel, the war became once again an everyday affair, occulting, among other tragedies, the Iraqi (only a man with the charisma of Fidel Castro managed to rival media-wise with an Israeli-Arab war; and, even so, only if the intensity of bombardments and the clarity of the mutilated bodies’ images is not enough).
I try to read something about what happens.
I knew there was an UN resolution to disarm Hezbollah and that, if something is certain, is that Hezbollah was not disarmed (thousands of missiles moved in lorries usually do not result from a well succeeded disarmament). It is true that the fact that Hezbollah, supported by Syria and a pro-nuclear Iran (remember?), violating the international line that separates (separated?) Israel from Lebanon, attacking Israeli soldiers and kidnapping two of them is not exactly an act of peace.

It is true that the non-recognition of the state of Israel state by Hezbollah, by Hamas and the successive declarations of Iranian representatives are not exactly an act of approximation to Israel, a small country in permanent state of war and fighting for survival.

It is true that Israel’s response is brutal, perhaps disproportional (but disproportional to what?, the two soldiers’ life or to the existence of a nation?). It is true that the news and the images that arrive to us are extreme.
I do not really know where to find guidance from. I will just stay here. Reading, Talking and trying to understand a bit better. Good holidays.

The unlikely hero

This week our Princess also went to the stadium. She does not understand a lot about football (she does not know from which country Ferencváros is – apparently a decisive criterion) but she does not want to miss out on the last exploits of a certain unlikely hero.

He defended three penalties, lives in Montijo (according to magazines of the field, it seems he has a house near his parents and his brother) and appears to be a normal person. This time it was with gloves, but it does not matter. He dedicated the victory to God (He is grateful, of course). He also dedicated it to his wife and family. He is the most unlikely of the heroes. Or perhaps not. His voice does not project leadership but the hero transcends himself (a word that has been used a lot lately) in the football squad. He has not the luxurious life of “pop-soccer players”. He is not handsome or elegant, or particularly charismatic. He was not interested in the money-obsessed “metro-sexuality” of some of his work colleagues.
At Sporting, fortunately, he does not seem to be a great goalkeeper. The seasons are mediocre and the publicity he does is to a chicken factory. But he is our unlikely hero. A Portuguese man who made a few million people happy. Possibly the successor of Eusébio in history. A hero of a generation.

On the last weekend we all wanted to hug Ricardo. We do not care about the new Minister of Foreign Affairs and the replacement in the Defence portfolio; about the conflicts in Timor and the shrew tension between Ramos Horta and Xanana, between Fretilin and Australia; about the Israelite offensive in Gaza; the violence in Sadr City and the beginning of the Finnish presidency of the European Union (EU). We do not want to know about the rise in oil and transports prices, the increase in interest taxes and the debt of the Portuguese or the multiple standstills of the EU. Why would we care.

“Labreca” (let me call you that), next time, you are going to save 4.

[1] This article is written in Manchester where I came to one day after the game against England. Imagine what it would be arriving here after an English victory… Nevertheless, because I write it before the semi-final, I want to make it clear that if Ricardo “screws it up” in that game, all praises are to be taken back.