No Spectators in the Marathon against Terrorism
In this spring of 2013, a marathon has been cut short by the unthinkable: a terrorist attack at the finish line! Athletes who had been running strong only moments before lost legs, and for a little boy who had yet to step foot onto the pavement of his first marathon, the chance was forever lost. Regardless of who perpetrated this act of murder, they should be condemned. Regardless of where we may be in the world, we should all unite in denouncing this crime; violence such as this is a grave provocation and threat to all who love peace.
As with the September 11 incident in 2001, the tragic events of April 15 bear a similar symbolic significance. The kaleidoscope of national flags flying behind the blood-spattered crowd on the streets of Boston came as a glaring reminder that in this age of globalization — regardless of location and regardless of innocence or guilt — there are no mere spectators.
In that moment, the cries and moans of the wounded were meaningless — only music to the ears of the murderers, an accompaniment to the murderers' tune as they plotted their heinous act. In that moment, wild speculation was similarly meaningless, naught but snares set by the murderers to cover their tracks. A few hours are not sufficient to confirm the identity of the attackers. Generally speaking, vows made in the moment are no more than efforts to intentionally frame or implicate others, if not complete nonsense; these insinuations are made by dishonest media to profit off of others' misfortunes. The adversaries of James Bond have long since ceased to consist of political entities; we should be more imaginative in the real world as well.
In that moment, lightly made promises of reprisal were even more meaningless, as they are precisely what the terrorists most desire — to change everyone's way of life and take away everyone's personal freedoms. If we take the period from September 11 to the events on April 15 to be one round, then clearly, they have achieved their goal. The Middle East has devolved into war and chaos, and the world has been plagued by financial crisis and economic decline. One might say that these events, newly past, are the premier example of capitalizing on the weaknesses of humanity, using violence to beget further violence. French psychoanalyst Frantz Fanon said long ago that something as irrational as violence can make people lose themselves as part of a greater whole, each becoming "a violent link in the great chain, in the almighty body of violence rearing up."
After September 11, the U.S. invaded Iraq and Afghanistan. Now, just as Americans have resolved at last to withdraw, terrorists are attempting to use the events of April 15 to keep Americans wrapped in the chains of violence and make them continue running down that path without end, far beyond the 26.2 miles of the Boston Marathon.
Indeed, anger and violence are both natural emotions, but it is the brilliance of rationality that makes one human. Accordingly, Obama's initial composure is worthy of our praise. At minimum, it demonstrates the possibility of change, indicating that he does not wish to rush recklessly ahead. But this is not enough. Stopping must stem from reflection upon the start: How is it that running turned from something joyful to such a deathly scene?
More than that, stopping requires immediate action. Bostonians have set an example for the rest of us by not scattering madly in all directions, but standing firm and turning back, with hands outstretched.
Humaneness starts with oneself, and the road lies before our feet.
As with the September 11 incident in 2001, the tragic events of April 15 bear a similar symbolic significance. The kaleidoscope of national flags flying behind the blood-spattered crowd on the streets of Boston came as a glaring reminder that in this age of globalization — regardless of location and regardless of innocence or guilt — there are no mere spectators.
In that moment, the cries and moans of the wounded were meaningless — only music to the ears of the murderers, an accompaniment to the murderers' tune as they plotted their heinous act. In that moment, wild speculation was similarly meaningless, naught but snares set by the murderers to cover their tracks. A few hours are not sufficient to confirm the identity of the attackers. Generally speaking, vows made in the moment are no more than efforts to intentionally frame or implicate others, if not complete nonsense; these insinuations are made by dishonest media to profit off of others' misfortunes. The adversaries of James Bond have long since ceased to consist of political entities; we should be more imaginative in the real world as well.
In that moment, lightly made promises of reprisal were even more meaningless, as they are precisely what the terrorists most desire — to change everyone's way of life and take away everyone's personal freedoms. If we take the period from September 11 to the events on April 15 to be one round, then clearly, they have achieved their goal. The Middle East has devolved into war and chaos, and the world has been plagued by financial crisis and economic decline. One might say that these events, newly past, are the premier example of capitalizing on the weaknesses of humanity, using violence to beget further violence. French psychoanalyst Frantz Fanon said long ago that something as irrational as violence can make people lose themselves as part of a greater whole, each becoming "a violent link in the great chain, in the almighty body of violence rearing up."
After September 11, the U.S. invaded Iraq and Afghanistan. Now, just as Americans have resolved at last to withdraw, terrorists are attempting to use the events of April 15 to keep Americans wrapped in the chains of violence and make them continue running down that path without end, far beyond the 26.2 miles of the Boston Marathon.
Indeed, anger and violence are both natural emotions, but it is the brilliance of rationality that makes one human. Accordingly, Obama's initial composure is worthy of our praise. At minimum, it demonstrates the possibility of change, indicating that he does not wish to rush recklessly ahead. But this is not enough. Stopping must stem from reflection upon the start: How is it that running turned from something joyful to such a deathly scene?
More than that, stopping requires immediate action. Bostonians have set an example for the rest of us by not scattering madly in all directions, but standing firm and turning back, with hands outstretched.
Humaneness starts with oneself, and the road lies before our feet.