Into The Arms Of Safety: But what kind of safety? And what manner of arms? How shall this world be healed when the innocent run from the arms of one gunman
into the arms of another? (AP Photo)
into the arms of another? (AP Photo)
IT IS A PICTURE of grief and relief. The fleeing hostage’s
pale hands clutch franticly at the arm of the man who is swinging her behind
him. The inclination of her body and the agitation of her flailing tresses
convey vividly the desperate momentum of her flight. Eyes squeezed shut against
the horrors at her back; the first of many gut-wrenching sobs escaping from her
mouth, the young woman collapses, weeping, into the arms of safety.
But what kind of safety? And what manner of arms? Because
the hostage’s rescuer is barely recognisable as a human being. Like the
distraught waitress from the besieged Lindt Chocolat Café, he, too, is clad in
black. But there the similarities end. The entity into whose arms the fleeing
hostage has fallen might best be described as a weaponised biped.
If the young woman is the symbol of unprotected
vulnerability, her rescuer represents the exact opposite. Every inch of him
bristles with armour, weaponry and communications gear. And when he lowers the
visor of his helmet what little remains of this two-legged tank’s humanity
disappears altogether behind tinted Perspex.
Is this what the State has become? A blank and pitiless
cyborg bulked up with Kevlar, strapped tight with Velcro and armed to the
teeth? Is this really what we, as citizens, have demanded from those set in
authority over us? Presented with a threat like the armed hostage-taker, Haron
Monis, would we be outraged if the State defended us with anything less?
But if these weaponised human beings are indeed our
representatives, then shouldn’t we give some thought to how the rest of the
world might interpret what they – and we – truly stand for?
When we allow our politicians to pass laws that tightly
circumscribe the limits of dissent and restrict people’s right to cross borders
to uphold what they believe to be freedom and justice (as thousands of men did
in the late-1930s to defend the Spanish Republic against its fascist enemies)
what kind of values are we proclaiming?
And when even more fearsome variants of the weaponised men
we send into our streets are deployed abroad to unleash fire and death upon
people who have never lifted a hand against them, what should we expect from
their families, friends and co-religionists in return?
History suggests that human beings generally respond as they
are responded to.
Monday, 15 December 2014 will long be remembered in
Australia for the crimes of Haron Monis. But among Australia’s Muslim community
it will be remembered for something else. Hashtag I’ll Ride With you.
The Twitter account arose from an incident on a train where
a young Muslim woman was observed removing her head-scarf in fear of
retaliation for what was unfolding in Martin Place. A non-Muslim Australian
citizen, seeing this, followed the young woman and implored her to replace her
headscarf. “Don’t worry”, she said, “I’ll walk with you.” This extraordinary
display of human solidarity, relayed through social media, saw the creation of
#Illridewithyou and very soon tens of thousands of Australians were offering to
stand shoulder-to-shoulder with their Muslim fellow citizens.
Which was the better emblem of Australia? The
Kevlar-encased, heavily-armed policemen who thrust a terrified young waitress
behind him to safety? Or, the citizen upon whose shoulder a young Muslim woman
sobbed her gratitude? Which message offers the better hope of peace and
goodwill? The Australian fighter-bombers unleashing fire and death upon the
battered remains of Iraq and Syria? Or, #Illridewithyou?
In just six days’ time we celebrate the birth of a
Middle-Eastern prophet who instructed his followers to do more than repay like
with like.
On a hillside in Galilee, Jesus of Nazareth
told them:
You have heard it said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.' But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.
For how shall this world be healed when the
innocent run from the arms of one gunman into the arms of another? If we would
be truly safe, then we must all learn to say: “Don’t worry, I’ll walk with you.”
This
essay was originally published in The Waikato Times, The Taranaki Daily News, The
Timaru Herald, The Otago Daily Times and the Greymouth Star of Friday, 19 December 2014.

