I was a student in France when the Twin Towers fell. I recall vividly the reactions and conversations I had with people as I processed what had happened and would likely happen next. I remember the empathy expressed by so many, but also the bitter anticipation of the violent national response that was likely to follow. “All we can hope is that your government doesn’t respond with more violence, with bombs,” some said.
I can’t shake an odd and terrible sense that I’m reliving the same thing now—far from attacks that struck near to people I care about, and with a deep foreboding about what what may follow, not only in terms of military response but also the racism, bias, and stereotyping that are expressed in a thousand large and small ways. I have no doubt that even while some hearts are opening to all those who are mourning and suffering, other hearts and minds are hardening. And France has already begun to bomb Syria.
I am grieving the terrible things happening in Beirut, Baghdad, and in so many places around the world. I am lamenting the suffering caused by attacks like these and also the suffering that follows them—and also the suffering and anguish that creates the kind of world in which they are possible. How many times will we feel this way?