How Spain’s royal family got it wrong on their visit to Valencia’s disaster zone

Showing sympathy with people battling adversity is all about when and how you do it – as King Felipe and Queen Letizia have just found out

Millions in Spain and across the world have watched with heartache the images of Valencians coping with the ravages of the worst flash flood in Spaniards’ living memory.
How then did a visit to the disaster zone by Spain’s King Felipe VI and Queen Letizia end in a riot? The royal couple were splattered in mud and showered with missiles by angry locals in the town of Paiporta, where dozens were swept to their deaths in last Tuesday’s torrent.
Once the floodwater receded to reveal a hellish landscape of collapsed bridges, gutted homes and thousands upon thousands of crumpled cars, emotions in Paiporta and affected areas hardened to anger and frustration.
Chief among the complaints were the state’s failure to launch an effective warning about the flood risk and the slow response afterwards to people’s most basic needs amid water and electricity outages.
For several days, residents in Valencia’s working-class southern districts and outlying towns attempted to mop up the oozing layers of mud left by the floodwater with little or no assistance from the local authorities or overstretched emergency services.
In Paiporta, which is just five miles from central Valencia, three days passed before trucks with water arrived. In nearby Alfafar, farmers from nearby rice plantations were helping to remove debris with their tractors before any heavy machinery was sent by the authorities.
For Spain’s King Felipe and Queen Letizia, the question was when and how to show their sympathy with people battling the most adverse of circumstances.
As the royal couple – along with Pedro Sanchez, Spain’s prime minister, and Carlos Mazon, Valencia’s regional leader – walked through the devastated streets of Paiporta on Sunday, the jeers grew louder, mud and pieces of debris began to fly, and hundreds of angry people broke through the security cordon to approach the official party.
“The king and queen’s visit was done with the best of intentions but probably the timing was wrong,” said Oscar Puente, Spain’s transport minister.
But was it too soon, or too late? Or was it more a problem with the format, in this case a traditional walkabout to survey the damage.
Recent British history provides examples of how the management of a public appearance by royals in the midst of a catastrophe can either channel public sympathy or become a lightning rod for discontent.
Queen Elizabeth II surprised observers with an apparently risky decision to go early with Prince William to visit the community affected by the Grenfell Tower fire. But the move paid off – the Queen appeared empathetic and connected to her people, partially laying to rest the ghosts of the 1966 Aberfan disaster, when she delayed her presence too long.
Years later, Lord Charteris, who was her assistant private secretary at the time, said: “We told her to stay away [from Aberfan] until the preliminary shock had worn off.” He added that the decision was the biggest regret of her reign.
After the death of Princess Diana, the late Queen hesitated before bowing to immense public pressure to return to London from Balmoral to console a grieving nation.
Paiporta was not a weepy, emotional place when the king and queen arrived on Sunday – it was full of rage.
As well as timing, the purpose of a visit is also important. In some of the worst flooding in Britain’s recent history in 2014, the Prince of Wales and Prince Harry were dispatched to join sand-bagging flood relief efforts around the Berkshire village of Datchet with a platoon of soldiers from their regiment, the Household Cavalry.
In Stockport this summer the timing of royal appearances was carefully calibrated so that it was not perceived as a distraction from police efforts to deal with the horrific knife attack and its aftermath.
The Spanish royals’ visit to Paiporta was a cumbersome affair. Crucially, they were accompanied by Mr Sanchez and Mr Mazon – the first time that any front-line leaders had visited the flood zone – meaning that their visit was intertwined with both national and local politics from the outset.
It seems that the government and royal household paid little attention to the possibility that locals waiting on the arrival of greater public resources might resent the arrival of a convoy of official cars and bodyguards. Even the imposition of a security cordon in streets characterised these days by a constant coming and going of residents trying to clear mud and debris could be seen as a provocation.
“These scenes should not have happened,” José Antonio Zarzalejos, the former editor of the staunchly monarchist Spanish newspaper ABC, told The Telegraph.
“It was a mistake that the royal couple were accompanied by the prime minister and president of Valencia. Did no one consider the possibility of an indignant reaction?”
But the relationship between Spanish voters and the royal family can often be fraught – not helped least by a series of financial and sexual scandals that have emerged in the last decade.
While polling on the matter is sparse, the surveys that have been done suggest a fairly even split between royalists and republicans in a country where the monarchy was restored by General Franco after decades of harsh dictatorship following a bloody civil war.
By contrast, according to polling in Britain last year, some 62 per cent of people support retaining the monarchy – more than double the proportion who want a president as head of state instead (25 per cent).
King Juan Carlos, Franco’s anointed successor as head of state, won over the nation by introducing democracy and the platform for a vibrant modern society, but his ultimate legacy to King Felipe, his son, has been one of discredit and corruption.
Juan Carlos, 86, abdicated in 2014 and quietly left the country in 2020 on a private jet.
His fall from hero status to disgrace began when he was caught hunting elephants in Botswana with a former lover in 2012, followed by revelations that he held secret offshore bank accounts to conceal millions of dollars’ worth of gifts from Arab monarchs and alleged kickbacks for securing corporate deals.
When King Felipe, 56, addressed the nation at the start of the Covid-19 pandemic, streets across Spain echoed to the sound of pots being banged in a WhatsApp-organised protest against the royal family and Juan Carlos’ profligacy.
The royal couple know that they have to battle to improve their standing amongst Spaniards, and palace sources insisted on Monday that they will return to Paiporta and other flood-affected areas in the days to come.
They already showed grit in standing up to the missiles and insults, debating with protesters and offering hugs and apologies to victims.
“This is not aimed at you,” one man said to a tearful Queen Letizia.
Mr Sanchez and his security team clearly felt more at risk of physical danger in Paiporta, as, in contrast with the royals’ reaction, they returned to their convoy.
The royals also appear to have fallen victim to conspiracy theories spreading on social media.
Faced by cries of “murderers”, King Felipe could be heard warning people not to believe everything that was being published, including claims that Spanish authorities knew about the impending flood before the alert was raised. Other dubious information questions the official death toll and the real reasons behind the lack of assistance reaching some of the affected areas.
It seems, though, that the couple’s handling of the situation may have done them some favours.
“The damage to the royal couple’s reputation internationally from these images is undeniable. In domestic terms, early polling shows a large majority thought they handled the situation well,” said Zarzalejos.
Another pressing concern, he said, is that the king and queen were put in a position where they were vulnerable to physical attacks – which could have been far worse.
“This was a systemic security failure.”