Remember the victims

Week after week it is the same old story, a chronicle of horror and violence flooding the media, leaving people dumbstruck at the world's inability to halt this escalation of atrocities. Men and women on all continents are brought face to face with unbearable pictures; those of naked children shot in Beslan; of youths escaping from the shrapnel of a missile fired to destroy a tank in their occupied city; of the Al-Arabiya television journalist killed by the same shrapnel while recording his commentary next to the half-burnt tank, surrounded by men celebrating its destruction; of the ruins of the Australian embassy in Jakarta, destroyed by a bomb; or of the victims who have fallen in Israël and the Palestinian territories.

The numerous faces of terror are there to be seen every day on our television screens, in a seemingly endless crescendo of cruelty. What can average citizens do to halt this spiral of violence? They can show their solidarity with the families in Beslan, or with those whose loved ones have been taken hostage, or with other victims in every corner of the Earth; they can write condolence messages or hold candle-light vigils in the cities of the world. In the words of one friend who neatly sums up the helplessness felt by millions of people when they see terrorism - any terrorism - in action, "But what good does it do, apart from salving our conscience?" This September, in a month of sadness in New York, eslan, Baghdad and Jakarta, we have a way of expressing our solidarity. We can remember the people who have fallen and the pain of their loved ones. The bombers and others who deal in death might not care. But then again, we can hope that even some of them do.

In 1950, Albert Camus wrote the play "The Righteous". In it, the three main characters face a dilemma that has since time immemorial faced all of humankind: is it right to sacrifice people for a cause?

Dora: Open your eyes. The Organisation would lose all its power and influence if it were to condone even for an instant that children should be mangled by our bombs...

Stepan: I can't take any more of this foolishness. When we finally decide not to care about children, then we'll be masters of the world and the revolution will triumph.

Kaliayev: Stepan, I am ashamed, but I cannot let you go on. I could accept killing someone to destroy tyranny. But in what you say I can see a new tyranny, one which, if it ever took hold, would make me into an assassin, when what I want is to render justice.

What can we do in the face of such chaos and brutality? Take a look at how helpless we are, and think of how much more helpless we would be in silence.

L.B.