It’s funny, living in the UK. When I grew up back in the 80s, it seems to have been (at least, in my memory) a constant barrage (bad choice of word) of things being blown up. Bits of Northern Ireland, bits of London… death and destruction loomed large.
I remember my visits to London with my parents being periodically punctuated by the BBC’s news OB unit and police courdons. The sudden discovery that such-and-such a tube line was shut because of a bomb scare…
…and so I guess it’s no suprise that since the majority of us have experience of this, that todays attack is already fading. The shock-and-horror is becoming a sort of not again. Goddess knows, this isn’t to belittle the terrible suffering of those who’ve died and the families, friends and colleagues of those killed today.
But there’s a sort of, acceptance is the wrong word. A sort of understanding that talking about it won’t change it. That it’s happened and that running over to whoever and bombing the shit out of them will simply create more violence and more terrorists.
Don’t think for a second we don’t want the perpetrators punished, because it’s not that, it’s simply a knowledge that killing them won’t get rid of the greater them, it won’t fix the problem. The creation of more violence simply means they’ve won.
The TV channels have largely returned to their scheduled programming; the public transport system is struggling back to it’s unsteady feet, and me? Well, I’ve edited more video, done a bit of Laundry (forgotten to wash my uniform which I’ll have to do now [pause] [unpause now uniform’s in the wash]), finished off the hoovering, cleaned the bathroom. Pondered clearing my desk…
…and listened to the slightly surreal Radio 1.
I stop and ponder the deaths of 37 innocent people, possibly many more, and think why? Why did they do it? I know that the injustice they deem to have been perpetrated on their country must make them feel that it’s a valid form of defence, but how does the taking of an innocent’s life ever become something that’s acceptable?
