We lit a candle and finished our dinner in the darkness, enveloped in complete silence.
On April 28, the so-called “great blackout” plunged the entire Iberian Peninsula into darkness for over ten hours. During this time, we were cut off from all communication—no phone calls, no internet access. Some were fortunate enough to find old battery-powered transistor radios to catch the news, but my partner, our six-month-old daughter, and I had no such luck. Night had fallen, and with it came the shadows of fear.
Occasionally, cars passed by and pedestrians walked with flashlights. One could only imagine what other things remained silent: the silent alarms—usually a major deterrent—had failed, and security cameras were blind. No one could call the police. It was the perfect night for criminals to exploit the darkness and silence to break into factories, shops, remote villages, country homes, or urban residences. Yet, remarkably, they did not.
The blackout did not turn into a nightmare. Instead, it felt more like a dream: a world inhabited by kind and considerate people where ill intentions were absent. Ordinary citizens took on roles to keep order—directing traffic at intersections with no functioning signals, delivering food and water to stranded train passengers stuck in remote locations, and taxi drivers, unable to process card payments, shared their mobile numbers so customers could pay once power was restored.
Despite the disruption in transport—delayed trains, missing buses, halted metro services—some schools stayed open longer to ensure no child was left alone waiting for a ride home. Hospitals, always free in Spain, operated on generators and continued to provide care. Without operational mobile phones, children and teenagers gathered outside, engaging in social activities reminiscent of past decades rather than today’s digital age. Strangers connected on the streets, sharing conversations and even beers on bar terraces, with humorous signs reminding patrons to drink their beers before they warmed up.
Everywhere I looked, it was clear that life carried on peacefully. Most people approached the day with humor and, I dare say, even joy. Somehow, we all sensed that everything would be alright—no robberies, no threatening disorder. No one would brandish a gun. It was not one of those apocalyptic Hollywood scenarios. Instead, calm, generosity, and the dedication of public servants and workers prevailed.
Perhaps this moment reveals a profound contrast between the rising tide of extreme right-wing ideologies in the United States and increasingly across Europe, which promote rugged individualism, and the trust fostered by the European welfare state in which I was raised. Here, in the darkness, we discovered a deep confidence in each other and in our country—a true sense of community. Is there a stronger weapon than that? A more resilient shield? Knowing that others are there to support you, not harm you. That we all need each other. So simple. So timeless.
This is not to say we are invincible. Spain has repeatedly faced moments that expose our vulnerabilities—from the floods that devastated Valencia last autumn to the COVID-19 pandemic five years ago. This week’s blackout affected Spain and Portugal and, briefly, Andorra and parts of France—hours when nothing moved forward.
Acknowledging our vulnerability should encourage greater trust among us, not less, and affirm that individualism and isolationism are not the paths forward. What I witnessed this week was how much stronger we become as a society and as individuals when we choose joy, calm, and mutual support over fear in the face of adversity. That approach granted us, in the dark, a privilege that others in brighter places do not have: the comfort of feeling safe at home and on the streets. A defeat for the merchants of fear.
In the early morning hours, as the three of us lay in bed, we noticed some lights flickering back on. My partner and I exchanged smiles—what a relief. Everything was fine. Our daughter slept peacefully between us. We plugged in our phones and laptops and drifted back to sleep.
