On July 19, 2017, a famous man who was hunting on a Cordovan farm laid the butt of a 270-caliber rifle on the ground, tilted the thorax over the muzzle and pulled the trigger. It was enough hours for all the headlines to contemplate suicide, and it was only one day for two left-wing digitals - official depositary of compassion - to headline: " Miguel Blesa , another suspicious death related to corruption" and "The death of Blesa puts your booty safe. " Nobody was worried about his wife or daughter. It was a corrupt right banker. The weakest link in the anthropological chain of empathy.

The coverage of the disappearance of Blanca Fernández Ochoa has accused a secular terror of suicide taboo, palliated eleven days later by euphemisms of the "non-violent non-accidental death" type. But that terror was inspired by the inquisitorial judgment of the profession and the beating heart of the public, united both, sender and receiver, in the collective hypocrisy that touches the entrails of our Catholic and sentimental nation, where for centuries the suicides of the Decent cemeteries That stigma lasts. The holy outrage of the tweet against the morbidity is born from a shared religious deep that demands the warm cloths of the faith - we still believe that he lives, and if not that it was an accident, and if not that he is in heaven - to muzzle the implacable conclusions of the reason. And yes, journalism has always worked with emotions, but it is not supposed to allow emotions to work for it. With Blesa it was easy, because that man did not excite anyone.

Suicide was talked about a lot when the worst of the crisis, but that was only possible because suicide was presented as homicide: murders of evictive perfidious. Grief mixed and agitated with political anger is a fuel so flammable that its detonation blinds any possibility of glimpsing the intimacy of a family. However, the clerical reminiscence of national journalism is beginning to clear. On Thursday Carlos Alsina , who is not fortunately the kind of journalist who sacrifices intelligence to the corporate idol, slowly pronounced the word "suicide" and then attacked the taboo while the audience was shrinking. Ten Spaniards are killed a day and it does not seem that everyone does it from the sovereign lucidity of a Gabriel Ferrater . Suicide is not an unmentionable shame. What is embarrassing is the cowardice of politicians and journalists who excuse their silence in the epithelial delicacy of their sensitivity, while advancing a mute scourge that does not mobilize zafia style banners They are committing suicide because the suicides do not manifest themselves. When suicide does not reach journalism, it is journalism that commits suicide.

According to the criteria of The Trust Project

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  • Blanca Fernández Ochoa
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