By: Ricardo Abud
It seems the tragedy has begun to fade from collective memory. Just a few weeks ago, the entire country united in gestures of solidarity, shared messages of support, and promised not to abandon those who lost everything.
However, time has shown that for many, empathy was as fleeting as a social media post. Today, the suffering of thousands of families has been replaced by political debate, confrontation, and the pursuit of personal gain.
The recent announcement of the subsidy for home purchases (80% for homes up to $70,000 and 50% for those up to $100,000, with the remainder financed over 25 years) has unleashed a wave of criticism. Like any public policy, it can be analyzed, especially in a country facing a complex economic situation. But there's a difference between debating with reasoned arguments and turning the pain of the victims into a tool for sowing hatred or gaining online attention. When tragedy is used as fuel for confrontation, those who truly suffer are relegated to the background.
It is deeply painful to see how this discussion has become dehumanized. It is debated from a place of comfort, measuring political impacts and transforming the misfortune of others into partisan ammunition. In this exchange of recriminations and thirst for the spotlight, the fundamental truth is forgotten: on the other side of the cold statistics are human beings breathing ash, waiting for the promised aid to become a real roof over their heads.
While some debate the subsidy, others are exploiting the desperation of affected families to profit. Prices for apartments, houses, appliances, shoes, clothing, and basic necessities have skyrocketed. Speculation has become the response of many merchants who see in the misfortune of others an opportunity to increase their profits.
To make matters worse, the euro has begun to be arbitrarily imposed on everyday transactions, further increasing the cost of essential goods and suffocating those who already have no recourse. What is most outrageous is not only the exploitation by those who profit from misfortune, but the complicit silence of those who raise their voices to criticize the state, yet remain silent in the face of the infamy of their neighbors who profit from the suffering of others. Lack of empathy and speculation ultimately amount to the same thing: indifference disguised as pragmatism.
The true lessons this tragedy should have taught us seem to be disappearing. Solidarity has been displaced by economic interests, empathy by confrontation, and values by ambition. When money ends up being more important than human dignity, all of society loses.
The affected families don't need hate speech or campaigns to garner "likes." They need solutions, respect, and genuine commitment. Debate is necessary in a democracy, but it should never be built on the suffering of those still trying to get back on their feet.
The worst consequence of a tragedy isn't always material loss. It's also discovering that, for many, solidarity has an expiration date and that, when the cameras stop rolling, other people's pain becomes an opportunity for political gain or profit. What remains of this tragedy is an uncomfortable question: how much do we truly care about the people who lost everything, and how willing are we to look the other way while someone else profits from their suffering?
The problem transcends economics. It is a moral crisis where empathy gives way to self-interest. The tragedy left a profound lesson that many have chosen to ignore: the reconstruction of a country depends not only on public policies, but also on the integrity of its people.
THERE IS NOTHING MORE EXCLUSIONARY THAN BEING POOR.
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