Lament for the Lindt Cafe

It started out as a perfect day in Sydney. People were getting ready for the work day, Christmas shoppers were grabbing a coffee to have some energy for their day and tourists were on their way to or from the Opera House and Circular Quay, maybe planning out their day of sightseeing. Martin Place and the Lindt Café were a refuge in the ‘moment before’.

The moment came around 9.45 on a Monday and for three people there would be no more Mondays or any other days. They had seen their last birthday, they would never need buy another Christmas present, and there would be no more weddings to attend, no more holidays to enjoy. Their moment had come and now it was gone with them.

Just engaging in the mundane suddenly became deadly.

It’s hard to fathom what goes through a seemingly twisted mind. It’s hard to contain one’s rage, even our prejudices or fears and it’s impossible to filter our sadness.

It’s unimaginable what friends and family went through while watching the rolling TV coverage or standing near the scene. It’s even less imaginable to know the anxiety and terror of those inside. 

Is there moral equivalence anywhere here? We condemn someone for choosing a murderous terror to espouse his views but our condemnation requires us to espouse our own and promote them thus as superior. Odd at best.

I think it’s pointless to label what happened as terrorism; that almost legitimises,in its demonising, an act of murder and a hideous crime as something that has as much weight as September 11 and other terrorist acts. But I fear in my criticism I am also adding to the culture of making these acts a contest of tragedy.

Similarly to call what was done ‘evil’ lets him off too lightly.  It gives an excuse when none ought to be given. Labelling an act as 'evil' means they don't have to be responsible nor that their actions were a choice. He committed murder as I said, he chose and acted and exploited fear, and he committed an intentional, terrible, terrifying and ghastly cold act. That’s what he did.

And let’s be clear he did not do one single thing as a Muslim. He dishonours the peaceful, caring and beautiful faith that is Islam. He was a cleric sure but that did not inform his actions. Murderous and hateful intent did and that was informed by a mental imbalance and a warped view of his place in the world.

Martin Place is a peaceful and pleasant place to rest amidst the hubbub and fast pace of the Sydney CBD. Sadly it now has a place in the sadder history of that beautiful city.

Today is another day and we stop and reflect, mourn, and sip a coffee.  We wish Tori Johnson and Katrina Dawson could join us. RIP.

#illridewithyou

“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts.”    ― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations