Loneliness, the weapon for mass destruction / rerun 2

How many weeks will this same posting feel like the only one to publish? To express my thoughts about the tragic event in Munich I would need to use the exact same words as a week ago. And the week before. So here is something so exceptional as a rerun of the rerun, what else is there to do? With only a few words added.

The lone wolf. The hermit.

Have you ever heard reports about the super social woman with tons of friends, going berserk, shooting people in public places? Didn’t think so.

It’s happened again. And again and again. This week in Munich. A lonely and mentally troubled 18-year old fascinated by mass shootings had planned it for a year. On the 5 year anniversary of Utöya Norway he killed 9 people, most of them children and teenagers and 27 more are injured. No political motive is known.

I am not forgetting the attack in Kabul yesterday towards a peaceful demonstration where more than 80 people were killed, but I don’t have information about the ISIS suicide bombers’ state of mind.

Last week a truck attack in Nice, 84 people dead and more still in critical condition, many children. Two weeks ago police shootings in Dallas. Orlando, a gay night club just about a month ago. And every school shooting I can remember, not only in the U.S.: the perpetuator is described in the same terms: he was a lone wolf.

The terror attacks in Brussels in March. Utöya, Norway 2011.

Anders Behring Breivik executed the execution of 69 young Norwegians by himself out from his own plans constructed in his sick hermit brain. Other terror attacks are mostly conducted within some evil organization, but the executors oftentimes young men recruited among lonely lost souls. Some women, I know, but extremely rarely.

Since 9/11 the world has turned a restricted place strictly regulated to prevent mass death. We are encouraged, and in some cases imposed, to spy on each other and report any kind of deviation from what’s considered the norm. We are not allowed to bring more than 100 ml of liquid on an air plane. European borders are closed.

For every terror act, we come up with some new ridiculous rule to avoid it happening again. Ridiculous, because the brains behind the acts will always be one step ahead. There is no way we can ensure us from evil acts of this kind. Plastic cutlery on board and taking our shoes off at the security won’t do it. Forbid trucks?

When it comes to mass shootings though, there are real actions to take. Shootings are executed with guns of some kind. Take them away. Just take them away. And it will make a difference. 

But, the common denominator among the executors, when it comes to terror attacks as well as mass shootings, seems to be loneliness. The motives varies, but loneliness, exclusion, isolation, hopelessness, lack of purpose and meaning as well as sense of being violated and betrayed, seem to be the breeding ground for execution of mass death.

So. Register every lonely person. Don’t let violated people on board a plane. Close the boarders for everyone feeling betrayed. Expel each one sensing excluded out of the country.

You see? No. The only way to prevent executed mass death is a sense of community and context, the inclusion, respect, warmth, friendship and love. Let’s legislate on that.

Loneliness, the weapon for mass destruction / rerun

There is no way I can write about the topic I had in mind for this week. But to express my thoughts about the tragic event in Nice I would need to use the exact same words as a week ago. So here is something so exceptional as a rerun, what else is there to do? With only a few words added.

The lone wolf. The hermit.

Have you ever heard reports about the super social woman with tons of friends going berserk, shooting people in public places? Didn’t think so.

It’s happened again. And again and again. This week a truck attack in Nice, 84 people dead and 18 still in critical condition, many children. Last week police shootings in Dallas. Orlando, a gay night club just about a month ago. And every school shooting I can remember, not only in the U.S.: the perpetuator is described in the same terms: he was a lone wolf.

The terror attacks in Brussels in March. Utöya, Norway 2011.

Anders Behring Breivik executed the execution of 69 young Norwegians by himself out from his own plans constructed in his sick hermit brain. Other terror attacks are mostly conducted within some evil organization, but the executors oftentimes young men recruited among lonely lost souls. Some women, I know, but extremely rarely.

Since 9/11 the world has turned a restricted place strictly regulated to prevent mass death. We are encouraged, and in some cases imposed, to spy on each other and report any kind of deviation from what’s considered the norm. We are not allowed to bring more than 100 ml of liquid on an air plane. European borders are closed.

For every terror act, we come up with some new ridiculous rule to avoid it happening again. Ridiculous, because the brains behind the acts will always be one step ahead. There is no way we can ensure us from evil acts. Only plastic cutlery on board and taking our shoes off at the security won’t do it. Forbid trucks?

When it comes to mass shootings though, there are real actions to take. Shootings are executed with guns of some kind. Take them away. Just take them away. And it will make a difference. 

But, the common denominator among the executors, when it comes to terror attacks as well as mass shootings, seems to be loneliness. Loneliness, exclusion, isolation, hopelessness, lack of purpose and meaning as well as sense of being violated and betrayed. That’s the breeding ground for execution of mass death.

So. Register every lonely person. Don’t let violated people on board a plane. Close the boarders for everyone feeling betrayed. Expel each one sensing excluded out of the country.

You see? No. The only way to prevent executed mass death is a sense of community and context, the inclusion, respect, warmth, friendship and love. Let’s legislate on that.

A tulip remembrance

- Today I have realized how blessed these 26 years have been, for I have never felt this kind of latent and expanding fear before.

It’s my young friend Corina in Paris, posting her anxiety on Facebook.

I was at the end of it. My friend Jeff at the start. Only, we didn’t know about each other both joining, until we met up at our friends Terry and Doug later for dinner. And in the evening all of us watching a documentary short series in a typical Seattle basement fringe theatre. Being a part of something bigger. The collective grieving.

I am recalling this, following the horrifying and tragic situation in Paris this week. I was in Sweden when 9/11 changed the world forever. I know exactly where and when I was hit by the news, as I remember where I was brought the message of the assassination of Swedish Prime Minister Olof Palme, Secretary of State Anna Lind, and of course JFK.

September 2002 I was in Seattle for the opening of my photo show Away is Home, Home is Away at the Nordic Heritage Museum. And September 11 was the one year remembrance of the Twin Towers collapsing before the eyes of the world.

It was a beautiful day. There was going to be a silent march starting at Westlake Center in downtown Seattle, ending at Seattle Center. When 9/11 happened, I felt so far away. Far away from my American city and far away from my American friends. So, I was grateful to be in Seattle on the one year day. I was given the chance to be a part of the tragic event, in remembrance.

I drove down to Seattle Center and was stunned by the sight. The big and beautiful International Fountain was surrounded, almost covered in flowers. All the people walking together from Westlake Center arrived in silence. Governor Gary Locke gave a speech. And there were bag pipes. It was all very dignified. And although the bag pipes, quiet.

It was intense, in a good way. I learned that a year ago, this was where people came together, an impromptu act. Seattle Center, which was built for the Worlds Fair in 1962, is the natural place for all kind of gatherings, and apparently also in distress. When the two planes crashed in to the heart of the U.S, the International Fountain with it’s soothing shape and form pulled Seattleites to the sound of the water, finding comfort in each other. And there were flowers. Drifts of flowers around the fountain. Flowers that were later transported away to become compost where tulips were planted. 

The experience was very emotional to me. I was overwhelmed and grateful. But a bit sad that I was alone there, in the midst of everyone. Afterwards I drove over to Terry and Doug’s. Jeff parked as I pulled over. And told med he had been at the start of the march at Westlake Center.  It turned out I hadn’t been alone after all. It felt good.

I have heard the New Yorkers felt alone in the world when 9/11 happened, like not even their fellow countrymen were there for them. I know Americans suddenly felt America was an island nobody cared for. That’s how lonely you can feel when cold fear eats your bone. When you feel no one have any sense of what you are going through.

More than 13 years have passed since 9/11. More people than we could ever imagine at that time, have lost their lives, loved ones, trust and faith to the world as a good and safe place to live, in terror actions throughout this planet of ours. But I’d like to think contemporary possibilities for communication and interaction brings us a little bit closer to each other. When cold fear eats your bones and no one is holding you, you are alone, you are. But a hug over the internet is better than no hug. A little pink heart can make yours pound a bit longer. And what can a tulip do?

The tulips planted in the compost out of the 9/11 flowers at the International Fountain in Seattle, had bulbs. And those bulbs were given to us who were there in quiet remembrance on the one year day. A beautiful sunny September day. I brought mine to Sweden and planted in my flowerbed. No, they didn’t survive the Umeå winter. But I am sure a lot of those bulbs handed out that day, did.

- Today I have realized how blessed these 26 years have been, for I have never felt this kind of latent and expanding fear before.

It’s my young friend Corina in Paris, posting her anxiety on Facebook. I responded to her: Corina, I am so sorry for the world and for you.

And Corina, I want to give you a tulip bulb. Imagine it, and plant it in your heart. And in every heart you meet. I know you will. And those bulbs will make it through any winter.