By asthaa
I’ve been asked more than once since I’ve been in Madrid how the “situation” is. Am I seeing the protests? Is it safe? The answers to both these questions is yes, but the economic crisis in Spain is deeper than that, and it is not necessarily visible unless you choose to be aware and conscious of it. As students here for a semester, there are a few ways we’ve witnessed the effects of the government’s austerity measures and the public’s response.
We’ve passed by or seen protests more than once. They can be on a smaller scale, like the medical personnel marching in front of the hospital across my home. They can be huge and we later learn about arrests, choosing to avoid the zones in fear of mingling with the police. I attended a protest a few weeks ago and observed some interesting things. For Spaniards, to protest and use one’s right to assemble can be a family activity. I met and saw everyone from college students to grandmothers and their grandchildren in a demonstration. While many of the marches tend to be horizontal, or without a fixed agenda and definitive leadership, some of the people I talked to felt the Spanish government was cutting the most basic functions, like education and support for the unemployed. They felt abandoned and wondered why their tax dollars were not going back to them. The protests were also much louder than any I’ve an experienced in the United States.
The government recently announced a budget for 2013 that involved deeper cuts in almost all sectors, and as a result we can expect such manifestations to continue. There have been a few public transportation strikes as well, meaning less service, crowded metros and buses, and leaving from the house a half hour early.
Yet, at the end of the day these tangible ways I’ve seen the affect of the crisis come in spurts and every couple of weeks. More than any overwhelming demonstration or hour wait for a bus due to a strike, something a fellow La Autónoma student revealed the most. I was in the process of printing in the computer lab in the university, and after asking the girl next to me for help, we began to chat about our backgrounds and what were studying. When I asked her why she wanted to take her graduate studies abroad and live outside of Spain for some time, she responded, “There’s no future here.”
That one phrase stuck with me because it signified how many people, though by all means not all or even most, view their country at this time. They don’t see many prospects for growth and feel the push to emigrate from their country. I cannot say I know what that feels like exactly, and it is not the only time I've heard it. But when I think of what 51% youth unemployment means to me, I remember what Rebecca said to me about her future in Spain.
