Columbine after Ten Years

There's a sad piece of serious journalism by Andrew Gumbel in The Guardian today - the tenth anniversary of the Columbine murders presents the opportunity for reflection on how the insatiable desire for quick results led to significant media distortion, which took rumour and emotiveness and turned them into a story that, it turns out, is remembered for being something very different to what it was. The boys who killed were not part of an organised group; they did not find themselves inspired by over-immersion in the music of Marilyn Manson, it appears there were no victims martyred for expressing their Christian faith.  The intention was to blow up the school and kill as many as 2000 people.  They were consumed by nihilism.

This part of the story, the most important part, the 'why' of the 'what', is the part that you and I have heard least about.  We've seen sensationalist footage of what we were led to believe was the school during an agonising three hour shooting incident, when later it turned out that the perpetrators may have been dead before the cameras arrived.  We've seen parents experiencing the most unimaginable grief seeking to honour the memory of their horribly murdered children by publishing books about words it appears they never actually said.  We've seen computer games and industrial metal music blamed for why two boys would do these unspeakable things.  But we've rarely - if ever - seen a serious examination of the reasons.

Because, on the one hand, nihilism - as popularly understood - is terrifying.  Some people seem to kill just because they want to; and they probably want to at least partly because they inhabit a world in which it's convenient to dehumanise each other.  This is not an underground or hidden world.  It's the one you and I live in too.  Call me irresponsible, but it does seem pretty obvious that the way we deal with public figures in disgrace, or even our neighbours when they do things that annoy us are both part of a continuum of social relations that ultimately, when pursued to its logical end, leads to a descent into allowing ourselves to kill.

Of course, most of us don't ever actually get to that end - but, if John O'Donohue was right to say that killing can only happen when you turn other people into 'slates' that can be wiped clean (she's not like me, his motives can't be explained, I hate them), then we're kidding ourselves if we think that we ordinary decent people are not capable of participating in the same kind of societal descent.

It's easy to find simplistic 'solutions' to the question of why people do unthinkable things; it's harder to ask questions about violence in which our own behaviour might be part of the answer.  But, as Gumbel says, every couple of weeks or so, someone shoots and kills a number of people in one place, but the 24 hour news cycle doesn't seem to have the space for anything other than film of the aftermath, closeup photos of the shooter, and brief obituaries of the dead.

I'd really like to take this question of dehumanisation more seriously; and I don't want to just blame the media.  The relationship between journalists and the public is recursive; we're both in it together, and to some extent give each other what we appear to want.  So let me make a suggestion that might be dramatic, or even unfair, but I'd be glad to hear a better alternative: if we don't press for an end to the assumption that audiences have only short attention spans, and the ideological position that states none of us really wants to explore beyond the surface of why people do what they do, then we're complicit in advancing the dehumanisation narrative that will lead to the next mass shooting.  And the next.

What Do Quakers, Yogis, and Celtic Spirituality Have in Common?

Two years ago I met a man with the finest beard I've ever seen: the mighty Nicholaes Roosevelt, Swami of Connecticut, a beautiful, wise, and extremely funny man who helps people feel grounded within the mystery by his very presence.  I've spent a couple of amazing weeks with Nick in the West of Ireland, when he has, among other things, cooked remarkable food, taught me Sufi words that make me feel awake and happy just by saying them, and shown that the life of the spirit cannot be divorced from the life of the body, and the earthier the experience of the body, the better.  (Anyone who tells you that Red Bull and cigarettes are antithetical to the mystic life obviously doesn't know their Swamis.) I'm privileged to be involved in a retreat with Swami Nick that is happening in just a couple of months at the Woolman Hill Quaker Center, in Deerfield, Massachussetts.  I'm excited to say that everyone is welcome, and if you're a regular reader of this blog I can't think of a better place to meet.  More information is below in a note from Nick - I'd love to see you there.

[I wanted to include a photo of Swami Nick, but couldn't photoshop myself out of the two I have of us together - one in which I look like the very definition of unphotogenic, the other in which I am wearing an unfortunate t-shirt.  So I used this picture instead because it has nice lights in it.  It's called 'White Noise/White Light', and is by Höweler + Yoon/MY Studi.  Take my word for it, Nick has the greatest beard on earth.  And being on retreat with him will likely be a highlight of your year.]

Swami's Invitation:

Dear Friends, you are cordially invited to Woolman Hill's Summer Solstice Retreat, "THE LIGHT WITHIN"

What do Quakers, Yogis and Celtic Christians have in common?

Guest speakers from each tradition will guide us in practices that connect us to "The Light Within'. On Sat. evening we will have a Celtic concert with the magnificent Kate Chadbourne, and a solstice bonfire. (This event is open to the public.)

Each day will begin with a morning meditation led by Swami Dayananda from Satchidananda ashram, or a Quaker meeting for worship guided by a member of our Quaker panel, followed by a wholesome breakfast. Our mornings will be conducted in silence, including a presentation from one of our guests; the afternoons given to group discussions with our panelists, free time and a yoga class for beginners and the more experienced. The retreat will be informed by the practice of "DEEP LISTENING AND SKILLFUL SPEECH". You will go home with practices you can use to maintain an easeful body, peaceful mind, and a useful life; practices you you can use to stay connected to The Light Within.

Please Join us; I guarantee this will be a bright time, joyful, and peaceful. To register go to woolmanhill.org; for questions call 413 774 3431

"If thy eye be single thy whole body shall be filled with light" Luke 1:34

"The cosmic Spirit shines constantly within the heart as a white light the size of a thumb." The katha Upanishad

Tabloid Revenge, Tabloid Forgiveness

Photo above from www.urbanseed.org in Melbourne, Australia

Driving around Belfast, the city of my birth and upbringing today, it's obvious that the police are responding to an increased threat - they're wearing flak jackets for the first time in years, and you can tell from the looks on other people's faces that we're all fearful of the same thing: that someone will, yet again, try to kill another human being because of the uniform they're wearing.

We all, of course, hope and pray that the shootings of the last month are an aberration, and that the public outcry will reduce the potential for their recurrence, but it's impossible to be sure of what it would take to prevent further violence in northern Ireland.  The people arrested in connection with last month's killings range from 17 years old to middle age.  As far as they are concerned, their political cause legitimises the use of violence to achieve what they perceive to be justice.   Confronting them with the human costs might make a contribution.  So when the Belfast Telegraph, northern Ireland's most widely read newspaper, publishes a front page story like this,  where generosity and grace are headlined as a lack of forgiveness,  I have to ask if we have either simply learned nothing from the past, or if we don't want to.

'I can't forgive my husband's killers', says Kate Carroll, whose husband Stephen was murdered less than six weeks ago.  But is it our business to know this, or even to ask the question?  How did the paper get her to say that?  Someone clearly had to go to her house, and ask her 'can you forgive?'  We have been particularly bad at humanising each other in my home society.  I think that the story about Mrs Carroll represents a crude exploitation of a shocked and grieving woman.

Later in the same issue of the paper, Mrs Carroll is quoted as saying:

"Please search your hearts and minds and walk a mile in the shoes of the people you have left behind to mourn the loss of their loved ones. Believe me it’s not an easy thing to do; you will only ever understand that heartbreaking pain when it comes knocking on your door...

Please, please, search your heart and conscience and stop this nonsensical behaviour, forget the deep hatred you possess, live your young lives without the profound bitterness you carry in your hearts and just remember your life on this earth is not a rehearsal; you only ever get one chance at it, so my advice to you is to use it wisely.

You’ll be old before you know it, living with untold regrets, so please, please reconsider what you are doing, the harm and carnage you are leaving behind.

Let the next generations of younger people live in a peaceful country, a country loved by other nations because the people are, and I quote, “so warm and friendly”. Why then can’t we apply that warmth to each other?"

I'm not quite sure how the 'I can't forgive' part of the story managed to become the headline, when in fact Mrs Carroll's words appear to be so full of grace and generosity.  It angers me that the easy option of tabloid rage-stirring was used as the default option for highlighting the story, rather than finding a way to express the incredibly complex and painful journey that this woman must be living through.  Mrs Carroll needs to be allowed to go through her shock and grief without interference from the media.  The rest of us have a responsibility to re-humanise the world.  Let's begin with facing one part of our reality that we usually prefer to ignore: The continuum of dehumanisation that ends with the taking of human life begins in the ideas and behaviour of individuals who would never consider actually using violence against another person.  So the restless hope that not one more human life will be taken in the cause of Irish politics needs to go further than merely denouncing people who use violence; it needs to do better than doorstep recently widowed people, who are only beginning to come to terms with the shock of their loss; it needs to take the risk of looking inward, and asking what every one of us needs to do to stop dehumanising others.  This may not be enough on its own to prevent further physical violence, but it's the right thing to do.

Further Thoughts on Non-Violence (3): How can we talk about Forgiveness?

Ok, so the photo above might seem a bit obvious, but two things are also self-evident to me.  1: Parts of the place where I grew up really are that beautiful.  2: A re-engagement with beauty is perhaps the core of  what is necessary to save the world.

I'm back home in Belfast briefly, for the first time since I moved to the US.  It's beautiful to be re-welcomed by longstanding friends, but there is still a kind of detachment in knowing that I don't live here anymore.  I'm back at a time when tragedy has made its presence felt with force, in the midst of the long and difficult road toward a peaceful political settlement.

Three people were murdered, and several have been injured in the past few weeks, in attacks carried out by people who do not support the process that has already led to a power-sharing government, the release of all politically-motivated prisoners, and the establishment of a strong human rights and equality culture, along with one of the most transparent policing services in the world.  After nearly 4000 people were killed, most between 1969 and 1994, three new names were added to the list read out on Good Friday at a memorial service.  48 year old police constable Stephen Carroll and young soldiers  Patrick Azimkar and Mark Quinsey were shot dead in March.

On the way from the airport when I arrived back a few days ago, I drove past the barracks where the soldiers were killed; I hadn't felt those emotions for a long time.  There is a changed atmosphere for some of us.  We have had traumatic memories re-stirred; the old feelings of cautiousness with strangers, and discretion about personal conversation are detectable, and could threaten to return to everyday life in northern Ireland.  At the same time, some of the reaction to the murders has exemplified how far we have come as a society, with cross-community condemnation mingled among profound public mourning, and some large scale protests by people sick and tired of being used as human shields for ideological purity.

It's impossible to be sure of what it would take to prevent further violence.  The people arrested in connection with the killings range from 17 years old to middle age.  As far as they are concerned, their political cause legitimises the use of violence to achieve what they perceive to be justice.   Confronting them with the human costs might make a contribution to challenging this notion, which, to my mind, has never been legitimate.  But we struggle, because our public conversation these days seems so colonised by cynicism and shortcut that a re-assertion of human dignity may be not only necessary, but inevitable, as people are confronted by the costs of not taking life seriously.

There's a specific example I have in mind.  I'll write more about it later.  For the time being, it's Easter Sunday, and the resurrection that hundreds of millions are remembering offers the most transcendent reason to value human life: because it might just last forever.

Film Recommendation of the Week: 'Man Push Cart'

I don't usually do recommendations of the week; heck often I don't do recommendations at all. But after the exhiliration of wall to wall documentary at the Full Frame Festival, I settled in last night, as I am wont to do, to catch up on a film I know I should have seen earlier, but was watching something else at the time.

Ramin Bahrani's film 'Man Push Cart' is deceptively simple. It's about a man struggling to make a living in America. This struggle prevents him from making a life. He's from Pakistan, and we see the ties that bind his ethnic community - everyone knows each other, but unlike some romanticised visions of immigration ('The Godfather' is an interesting example), they don't always help each other.

Ahmad sells coffee and bagels in Manhattan. People are often friendly to him. Some are not. He used to have family, home, money. Now he doesn't.

'Man Push Cart' is so well crafted that it's almost too slick - and there are some potentially unsubtle notes in an otherwise sparse and thoughtful script. But - and this is why it is my recommendation of the week (there may never be another such recommendation, so listen carefully ;-)) - it is a supremely confident piece of early work from a director whom Roger Ebert has just pronounced the 'new great American director'.

It feels like real life.

It starts before we see anything; and the characters live on after the fade out. It doesn't do much more than tell an honest story of struggle - mingling questions of the diversity of US society, the barriers between cultures, and the death-dealing of privatised capitalism vs. communitarianism. If, as my co-host on The Film Talk, Jett Loe has come to believe, 'staged cinema' is dying, 'Man Push Cart' rages against this, because although it is a work of constructed fiction, it feels like a documentary. It doesn't offer anything easy; and challenges us to live more humanely. Given that such a challenge has become one of my litmus tests for the meaning of art, 'Man Push Cart' succeeds where others fear to tread.

Update: Please note spoilers follow in comments below.