I've lost friends over the past few days. Several of them. Because I would not remain silent about violence after the Paris attacks. Because I would not blame Muslims. Because I insist it's a mistake to refuse to accept refugees.
So my first thought upon waking this morning: Maybe I just need to stay silent. Maybe I need to leave Facebook and Twitter. Maybe that's for the best.
Because, here's what I know to be true:
We are not "all victims". We are not at "war". There is no guarantee that this will "wake us up". It doesn't "change everything". The "barbarians" are not "at the gate". This event is not "apocalyptic". And finally -- does it really need to be said? -- this is not an atrocity committed by "Islam".
One can only respond, wearily ... Commentators had warned that an attack of this sort was coming. We have seen such things before -- and, indeed, our "selective outrage" tends to neglect that they are tragically frequent in many areas of the globe. We are not equally "victims" in the same way as the dead and wounded and their families and friends.
The struggle against terrorism looks nothing like the conflicts between two national armies, which is the traditional definition of a "war". If 9/11 and 7/7 or the Charlie Hebdo murders didn't "wake us up", then why believe this attack will? Likely very little will change in the weeks and months following this attack.
Calling the criminals who committed these crimes "barbarians" does not help us understand them. They are not "at the gates" but are generally fellow citizens residing legally in our countries. (The furry over refugees is seriously mistaken. Not allowing them into our borders gives ISIS exactly what they want. This tragedy cannot end well, if the pundits are able to scare us away from allowing these folks a refuge.) An "apocalypse" is a violent interruption that reveals something new: These attacks are indeed horribly violent, but it remains to be seen whether any original insights will emerge from them. I'm doubtful, at least. And as Muslim leaders strain to make clear, such attacks are assaults against Islam as much as they are attacks against "the West" or liberal democracy. (ISIS is as Muslim as the KKK is Christian -- which is to say, it isn't Muslim, just like the KKK isn't Christian.)
The flurry of reactions in the media to these murderous attacks in Paris are dishearteningly familiar. Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose. We have seen this pattern in reactions to terror many times: After 9/11, 7/7, Mumbai, the Boston marathon, and Charlie Hebdo (to name but a few recent events). It begins with a shocking atrocity, and the global media network scrambles to address a stunned but riveted world audience. To capture the emotional intensity of the public's reaction, grandiose headlines compete for attention. To appear suitably in control, world leaders issue confident and aggressive statements, seeking to reassure us that the evil will be quickly punished and eliminated. Anyone remotely resembling the perpetrators become objects of suspicion, and occasionally of aggression. The frenzy will then soon fade, until another terrible event erupts, when once again the headlines will repeat the cliche that "nothing will ever be the same".
The familiar pattern that flashed on my CNN screen last week is fueled by our postmodern social need for drama. Who needs careful analysis or deep thought? Who wants to make serious distinctions that give rise to genuine, meaningful response? We have our memes, and our memes tell us exactly what we need to be told to put our heads around the tragedy.
So witnessing this terrible familiarity, I'm tempted today to let it go. Just leave Facebook. Allow my silence and its cynicism to let the pundits have their day.
The news cycle, after all, will keep going. It thrives on these tragedies, and we thrive on the dramatic diet it feeds us.
Fury begats fury. Violence begats violence. And everyone is "happy".
Except me.
I know there are winners in all this. And those winners are the terrorists. Two people on Friday viewed the murders in Paris as acts of war: The man who planned them, and the French President. (That was true in the US on 9/11, by the way.)
So all the first-hand accounts of the tragedy will give way to predictions of new security measures, or fears for the impact on the global economy.
Therefore, I was convinced upon waking that the less I have to say, the better. Why give murderers the attention they crave? Doesn't all the media fixation only reward the planners of the atrocities, and encourage copy-cats who crave the same attention? By publicly reacting, isn't one only fueling the cycle of action-reaction? Perhaps one should -- like the cartoon "First Dog" -- just withdraw from the noise of the internet, and be silent.
All my protestations to the contrary, the dominant narrative that shapes our collective American "common sense" is just so damn debilitating. And it's destroying my friendships.
So of course muteness is a temptation.
But here's the thing: My silence doesn't really arrest all the glee about new bombing in the Middle East. Even when it's a reaction to terrorism that almost everyone admits doesn't actually work, and the outcome of which is likely to spread sufficient misery among innocent civilians to encourage another generation of terrorists. My silence does nothing to assure Muslims that my neighbors aren't going to turn on them. (I have a Muslim friend who said recently that he's had to quit praying in public out of fear for himself and his family. Think about that for a minute.) And my silence most certainly does nothing to allow mourners to speak their grief, and for me to speak words of kindness and love for hope and healing.
So I'm pretty sure I won't go silent.
Here's why: Allowing our fear or our cynicism about an atrocity to render us mute only reinforces the existing state of things. Silence and defeatism changes nothing -- including ourselves -- and thus leaves in place the conditions that produced the atrocity. Moreover, remaining silent encourages us to repress our anxiety and rage, and any good therapist would remind us that such repression will eventually be expressed in some unhealthy manner.
But my speech still does not leave room for platitudes. Because platitudes only allow us to repress our anger and fear and hurt, by clinging to such sentimental slogans that ignore all the complexities of the issues in front of us. "Religion" is not the problem here -- not matter what platitudes people utter. If we turn from God and toward "love", trust me, it doesn't help anything. And forget all the sentimental clap-trap about prayer. Given all the anger that surrounds talk about refugees in America, I'm pretty sure most Americans -- at least those cheering their governors who won't accept these refugees -- don't really care for (or even pray for) their religious neighbors. (I wonder what Jesus' parable about the Good Samaritan looks like to these folks?)
And equally platitudinous are all those empty gestures -- such as that by Facebook, which describes using a French flag as a profile picture as an act of "solidarity". This cheapening of the concept of solidarity empties it of meaning. Modifying your "selfie" to include the Tricolour is hardly an act of reaching out to support those in need: It costs nothing; demands nothing; asks for nothing. Such gestures allow us to remain unchanged, while feeling engaged. Performing these little rituals help us to express our own internal emotions, while pretending that we connected in meaningful ways with others. (Don't even get me started about how that same Tricolour has been the banner that flies over dead bodies in so many places in the world as a banner of Imperialism.)
And I have no room for all this Gnostic spirituality that seems to be running the Christian circuit. The one that says we're living in a "godless" age, so we have to return to Christian values, and make American great again. America -- depending on who you are -- was never all that great. We have our own skeletons in our own closets. But trust me, God hasn't gone anywhere. In Jesus, we Christians believe, God is moving into the darkest corners of the world, and the Light that God shines in Jesus cannot be overcome.
So where is God? Look in the faces of those refugees for starters. I'm fairly certain you'll find him there.
The violence is hardly something "out there", in the Muslims. It's the same violence that is at the heart of every human being. And that violence only knows one end -- death.
The only way out of that violence and its death is the way of cruciform love -- the way of Jesus Christ. And that Way is the way of peacemaking, even with one's enemies.
Granted, taking any of those positions makes these tragedies a lot easier to deal with. Those positions make the memes possible. A sentimental slogan like "All you need is love" can actually generate a coldness towards one's fellow human beings. This emerges when one encounters people one profoundly dislikes. It is impossible in such situations to experience the warmth that the slogan promises. Bitterness ensues: "All I need is love -- but you refuse to give it to me! How dare you!" Coldness towards others thus replaces the former sentiment. This is why the first thing Christian love does is to bring coldness to the consciousness of itself, of the reasons why it arose. The first thing Christian love does is to tell us the truth about ourselves: "While we yet sinners ..."
And that's why I'm not letting the cynicism win today. There is much of which I can be critical. But even more importantly, speaking truth means I know I'm just as screwed up as the murderers. It's only when we're that frank and honest about ourselves that we can learn to see our enemies as those we can love. "We love because God first loved us."
So my first thought upon waking this morning: Maybe I just need to stay silent. Maybe I need to leave Facebook and Twitter. Maybe that's for the best.
Because, here's what I know to be true:
We are not "all victims". We are not at "war". There is no guarantee that this will "wake us up". It doesn't "change everything". The "barbarians" are not "at the gate". This event is not "apocalyptic". And finally -- does it really need to be said? -- this is not an atrocity committed by "Islam".
One can only respond, wearily ... Commentators had warned that an attack of this sort was coming. We have seen such things before -- and, indeed, our "selective outrage" tends to neglect that they are tragically frequent in many areas of the globe. We are not equally "victims" in the same way as the dead and wounded and their families and friends.
The struggle against terrorism looks nothing like the conflicts between two national armies, which is the traditional definition of a "war". If 9/11 and 7/7 or the Charlie Hebdo murders didn't "wake us up", then why believe this attack will? Likely very little will change in the weeks and months following this attack.
Calling the criminals who committed these crimes "barbarians" does not help us understand them. They are not "at the gates" but are generally fellow citizens residing legally in our countries. (The furry over refugees is seriously mistaken. Not allowing them into our borders gives ISIS exactly what they want. This tragedy cannot end well, if the pundits are able to scare us away from allowing these folks a refuge.) An "apocalypse" is a violent interruption that reveals something new: These attacks are indeed horribly violent, but it remains to be seen whether any original insights will emerge from them. I'm doubtful, at least. And as Muslim leaders strain to make clear, such attacks are assaults against Islam as much as they are attacks against "the West" or liberal democracy. (ISIS is as Muslim as the KKK is Christian -- which is to say, it isn't Muslim, just like the KKK isn't Christian.)
The flurry of reactions in the media to these murderous attacks in Paris are dishearteningly familiar. Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose. We have seen this pattern in reactions to terror many times: After 9/11, 7/7, Mumbai, the Boston marathon, and Charlie Hebdo (to name but a few recent events). It begins with a shocking atrocity, and the global media network scrambles to address a stunned but riveted world audience. To capture the emotional intensity of the public's reaction, grandiose headlines compete for attention. To appear suitably in control, world leaders issue confident and aggressive statements, seeking to reassure us that the evil will be quickly punished and eliminated. Anyone remotely resembling the perpetrators become objects of suspicion, and occasionally of aggression. The frenzy will then soon fade, until another terrible event erupts, when once again the headlines will repeat the cliche that "nothing will ever be the same".
The familiar pattern that flashed on my CNN screen last week is fueled by our postmodern social need for drama. Who needs careful analysis or deep thought? Who wants to make serious distinctions that give rise to genuine, meaningful response? We have our memes, and our memes tell us exactly what we need to be told to put our heads around the tragedy.
So witnessing this terrible familiarity, I'm tempted today to let it go. Just leave Facebook. Allow my silence and its cynicism to let the pundits have their day.
The news cycle, after all, will keep going. It thrives on these tragedies, and we thrive on the dramatic diet it feeds us.
Fury begats fury. Violence begats violence. And everyone is "happy".
Except me.
I know there are winners in all this. And those winners are the terrorists. Two people on Friday viewed the murders in Paris as acts of war: The man who planned them, and the French President. (That was true in the US on 9/11, by the way.)
So all the first-hand accounts of the tragedy will give way to predictions of new security measures, or fears for the impact on the global economy.
Therefore, I was convinced upon waking that the less I have to say, the better. Why give murderers the attention they crave? Doesn't all the media fixation only reward the planners of the atrocities, and encourage copy-cats who crave the same attention? By publicly reacting, isn't one only fueling the cycle of action-reaction? Perhaps one should -- like the cartoon "First Dog" -- just withdraw from the noise of the internet, and be silent.
All my protestations to the contrary, the dominant narrative that shapes our collective American "common sense" is just so damn debilitating. And it's destroying my friendships.
So of course muteness is a temptation.
But here's the thing: My silence doesn't really arrest all the glee about new bombing in the Middle East. Even when it's a reaction to terrorism that almost everyone admits doesn't actually work, and the outcome of which is likely to spread sufficient misery among innocent civilians to encourage another generation of terrorists. My silence does nothing to assure Muslims that my neighbors aren't going to turn on them. (I have a Muslim friend who said recently that he's had to quit praying in public out of fear for himself and his family. Think about that for a minute.) And my silence most certainly does nothing to allow mourners to speak their grief, and for me to speak words of kindness and love for hope and healing.
So I'm pretty sure I won't go silent.
Here's why: Allowing our fear or our cynicism about an atrocity to render us mute only reinforces the existing state of things. Silence and defeatism changes nothing -- including ourselves -- and thus leaves in place the conditions that produced the atrocity. Moreover, remaining silent encourages us to repress our anxiety and rage, and any good therapist would remind us that such repression will eventually be expressed in some unhealthy manner.
But my speech still does not leave room for platitudes. Because platitudes only allow us to repress our anger and fear and hurt, by clinging to such sentimental slogans that ignore all the complexities of the issues in front of us. "Religion" is not the problem here -- not matter what platitudes people utter. If we turn from God and toward "love", trust me, it doesn't help anything. And forget all the sentimental clap-trap about prayer. Given all the anger that surrounds talk about refugees in America, I'm pretty sure most Americans -- at least those cheering their governors who won't accept these refugees -- don't really care for (or even pray for) their religious neighbors. (I wonder what Jesus' parable about the Good Samaritan looks like to these folks?)
And equally platitudinous are all those empty gestures -- such as that by Facebook, which describes using a French flag as a profile picture as an act of "solidarity". This cheapening of the concept of solidarity empties it of meaning. Modifying your "selfie" to include the Tricolour is hardly an act of reaching out to support those in need: It costs nothing; demands nothing; asks for nothing. Such gestures allow us to remain unchanged, while feeling engaged. Performing these little rituals help us to express our own internal emotions, while pretending that we connected in meaningful ways with others. (Don't even get me started about how that same Tricolour has been the banner that flies over dead bodies in so many places in the world as a banner of Imperialism.)
And I have no room for all this Gnostic spirituality that seems to be running the Christian circuit. The one that says we're living in a "godless" age, so we have to return to Christian values, and make American great again. America -- depending on who you are -- was never all that great. We have our own skeletons in our own closets. But trust me, God hasn't gone anywhere. In Jesus, we Christians believe, God is moving into the darkest corners of the world, and the Light that God shines in Jesus cannot be overcome.
So where is God? Look in the faces of those refugees for starters. I'm fairly certain you'll find him there.
The violence is hardly something "out there", in the Muslims. It's the same violence that is at the heart of every human being. And that violence only knows one end -- death.
The only way out of that violence and its death is the way of cruciform love -- the way of Jesus Christ. And that Way is the way of peacemaking, even with one's enemies.
Granted, taking any of those positions makes these tragedies a lot easier to deal with. Those positions make the memes possible. A sentimental slogan like "All you need is love" can actually generate a coldness towards one's fellow human beings. This emerges when one encounters people one profoundly dislikes. It is impossible in such situations to experience the warmth that the slogan promises. Bitterness ensues: "All I need is love -- but you refuse to give it to me! How dare you!" Coldness towards others thus replaces the former sentiment. This is why the first thing Christian love does is to bring coldness to the consciousness of itself, of the reasons why it arose. The first thing Christian love does is to tell us the truth about ourselves: "While we yet sinners ..."
And that's why I'm not letting the cynicism win today. There is much of which I can be critical. But even more importantly, speaking truth means I know I'm just as screwed up as the murderers. It's only when we're that frank and honest about ourselves that we can learn to see our enemies as those we can love. "We love because God first loved us."