from the edge

Showing posts with label terrorism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label terrorism. Show all posts

Tuesday, 6 June 2017

One Love

Source: Billboard.com
‘There is no fear in love’ ( 1 John 4:18). If I’m honest about it, these words strike me as optimistic, even somewhat whimsical. Most people’s life experience has demonstrated at one time or another that fear takes absolute precedence when it comes to violent defining moments, or ‘crises’, in the full sense of the word. When it comes to how we imagine we would behave in a violent crisis intentions are invariably good, even heroic, but reality, when it kicks in, often reveals us to be anything but heroes. Not that this is always a bad thing. The independent hero can be counterproductive in times of crisis. He or she can put the lives of others in danger. On the night people were randomly stabbed in a London restaurant, the u-tube footage shows police telling them to lie down and not run, or even move. They were not to be heros. If there was to be heroism, it would be a matter of holding together, and of having the courage to trust the police who were trying to contain the fear.

The lying down, and what must have been an agonised period of waiting for the ‘all clear’, suggests that fear can only be confronted, and then contained, through trust in what it means to be real community. Real community is about being in ‘communion’ with one another. In a moment of violent crisis, being in communion begins with trusting those who give the orders which will enable all innocent people to live. It is about everyone belonging to one another, so that whoever holds legitimate authority in any given situation is also fully in communion with the rest of us.  In the wider context of our shared public life, this is only possible when there is wise and competent leadership, wisdom being a combination of vision, compassion and common sense. Such leadership is vital in times of mass violence.

The present mayor of London, a wise and compassionate leader, has told people to expect an unusual amount of police presence and high level security in the wake of recent terrorist attacks. He has also told them not to be afraid, not because he wishes to delude them into thinking that these are not frightening times, but because he wishes them to know that their fear is valid and that he will do everything he can to protect them under his mayoral leadership. This is why Trump’s remarks about Sadiq Khan are both crass and dangerous.

A few nights ago, we saw another example of wise and compassionate leadership, this time coming from a twenty three year old woman and her co-celebrants at a rock concert. She was affirming communion, so you could say that her initiative to re-stage the concert so soon after the terror attack which took place at the last one was not only courageous in a human sense, but had something of the self-giving of Christ, and something of his innocence. His innocence was reflected not only in her, but in the faces of those attending the concert, as they faced down the violence that had been, and might yet be.
No doubt most of the young people attending the second Ariana Grande concert had been at the first one, with its tragic and terrifying outcome.

What brought them together a second time? I believe it was the collective will to be 'as communion', so defying those who would fragment and ultimately destroy what is good about our society and our way of life. This is what made this concert so unlike any other concert. There was an exhortation to love one another in the facing down of fear.

All would be remembering the horrors of the previous celebration. Many of those attending this one were probably there when they took place. All would have felt the fear. Some would not have known what to do with the feelings these memories evoke, especially in their immediate aftermath. But they knew, and their leader knew, that to return to that moment of naked fear, evoked by the memory of the perpetrators’ crazed envy and untrammelled hatred, as it was expressed through brutal mass murder, was not why they had come to this second concert. To remain in that moment, or to return to it by re-invoking hatred for the perpetrators, would have meant defeat for them and for all of us.

Instead, their leader, was in this moment urging them to celebrate a eucharist, a shared moment of love and thanksgiving. She was offering them a different and better way, a way out from fear, so that they would not spend the rest of their lives emotionally short-circuiting back to the lie which bred the hatred on the part of the perpetrators. But neither was she exhorting her fans to some kind of collective mental discipline involving them being seen to enjoy themselves. She was affirming and releasing the re-creative love which lies within each one of us. She was inviting her fans to be ‘as one’, or as communion in spirit and in truth. 

To love one another is to worship God in spirit and in truth. I believe that, whether consciously or not, it was to this end that she told them to “Touch the person next to you. Tell them you love them – even if you don’t know them. Those watching this at home, do the same.” It was a sacramental moment, a hallowing of the ‘matter’, of our shared humanity, in the face of the sacrilegious acts committed a couple of weeks earlier in the name of God.

In saying these words, Ariana Grande was helping us all to face down our fear of terrorism, by being in deeper communion with one another as a free society. Perhaps she was thinking of the two generations who, in the last century, fought and died for that freedom. If so, she was also inviting communion across our generational barriers – all the nonsense we tell ourselves and others about how much better things were in the good old days. Not only was the singer telling them that love was very much alive within each one of them, regardless of the envy of religious extremists, but that we are all, regardless of age, gender, race, nationality, or politics, deeply at one with each other and that we are called to worship God, as we love one another, in spirit and in truth.




Friday, 9 January 2015

Je suis Charlie Hebdo - The truth of the matter

I have started to notice when a few weeks go by without a plane crash or terrorist attack taking place somewhere in the world.  Perhaps this is because we are now so conditioned to expect the unexpected that we are permanently braced for the worst. Being permanently on red alert is also a way of telling ourselves that we are not really afraid, that we are ready for whatever life throws at us, including random acts of murder. Various levels of ‘terror alert’ help us to do this.  

Those who commit acts of terror aim to exercise power by generating a climate of fear. Terrorism is terrorism, after all. Generating fear is the way people who crave attention, recognition, or even worship, get their megalomaniac ‘fix’. In the case of Jihadism in its current manifestations, megalomania is delusion dressed up as religion. It is not true religion.

True religion is about having a deep relationship with a loving God, both individually and as God’s people, in the sure knowledge that all people are God’s and that all are equally valued and loved by him. False religion is ultimately about the worship of oneself and forcing others to worship the person I call ‘me’, often because the false ‘me’ is driven by self hatred of one kind or another. False religion, and the megalomania it engenders, often appears in personality driven worshiping contexts pertaining to any one of a number of religions, just as it does on the global political stage. It becomes dangerous and violent when driven by lust for power and the desire for control over the lives of others, even if this is not recognised by the person or persons concerned. True religion begins with renouncing power and control over other people.

Truth exposes delusion and so does true religion. But this exposing can work both ways, like a double edged knife. Insofar as true religion, and the truth through which it speaks, exposes dangerous delusion, it also exposes our own fears and ourselves for what we are, both privately and publicly. The truth does this by naming and shaming those who threaten us and, in so doing, by naming and shaming our own fears, hatreds and delusions. Once we have faced these inner wild beasts, we can lay hold of them, understand them and deal with them. We can even laugh at them. We can understand and laugh at our fear of being attacked by crazed religious extremists. Political satire, whether or not we always like or agree with it, helps to make this possible.

Cartoons are really drawings in the sand. For some, they can be powerful solvents of toxic fear. But while they may come across as  temporary things, quickly forgotten and easily erased by the artist, they also leave an indelible mark on the collective inner consciousness, the place where hatred is engendered through fear, the one feeding continuously on the other until they erupt in violence. The artist who draws in the sand deals in powerful subtleties. He or she reveals both truth and delusion.

There is an occasion in the life of Jesus of Nazareth when a woman is brought to him who has been caught committing adultery, a flagrant breach of Jewish law and of the bounds of respectability. When asked who should throw the first stone, he responds with a question and with a drawing in the sand. The question and the drawing clearly belong together. The question pertains to a collective and private fear of judgment and to the delusions of power and of being beyond reproach cherished by those who believe they have the right to judge and condemn others. “Which of you is without sin?” he asks. “Let him throw the first stone.” Jesus knew the truth and saw the delusions which come so easily to those who wish for power, or who perhaps already have it.

What did each person see written in the sand as he dropped his stone and turned away from the woman? It was probably no more than a single word, or a quick line drawing unmasking a delusion about the kind of person he was, or about what he secretly wished he was. The delusion and the desire had made him single minded, even fanatical, in the practice of his religion. False fanatical religion expressed itself in a desire to punish someone else for his own self hatred.

We are seeing something like this being worked out through the language of religious violence today. The criminal so called Jihadists who act out their fantasies in Paris streets and supermarkets are really no more than disillusioned people who are full of self hatred. They must be stopped, wherever they are, both there and further afield. But simply stopping them, with force if necessary, will not diminish their hatred or their fear and it will not diminish ours either.


In order to finally rid ourselves of the fear and the hatred which feeds violence, we have other work to do. We have to use the other side of the double edged knife to exorcise the sins of injustice committed against Arab people in the past century and in which we have all played a part. Violence and hatred will only be fully quelled when we have taken away the deeper and perhaps only partly recognised ‘drivers’ of the current violent episode. This is the wider and far more significant truth which cartoonists need to be drawing in the sand.