Five bombs exploded in downtown Delhi last night, killing at least 20 people and injuring another 90. More than 400 people have been killed in bombings in Indian cities since October 2005. Many were expecting Delhi to be next target.
I first heard about the news in a text message from a friend in the States. I called a friend here in Dharamsala who filled me in on the details, and another in Delhi who put me at ease.
“Don’t worry,” said my friend in Delhi. “I’m on good terms with God.” I was comforted to hear him chuckle.
Bombs are scary enough when they are detonated in a city where I don’t know anyone. In 2001, I remember watching the US’s bombing of Baghdad on television, stunned that the government and military (and the news machine reporting it) could be so proud of something that was tearing apart human lives and families. I imagined how horrifying it must have been to live there that night.
When bombings happen in a city where I have friends and acquaintances, I worry. I know that the chances of my friends being in the vicinity of the bombs are slim, but there is a gnawing in the pit of my stomach until I can contact them. I remember how worried I was about my mum and her friend who were living in Bali when the second round of bombs exploded there, how my worries were expounded with every failed phone call. It was two entire days before I reached them, during which I couldn’t shake my fear. When I finally got through, my mum told me all mobile phone towers were shut down because the bombs had been detonated with a mobile phone.
Each time I hear of bombings, I wonder: what drives someone to want to kill others like that?
Pent up anger that festers the longer it’s contained. Political and social ostracization. Feeling unempowered. Religious differences.
People all over the world have the same laundry list of grievances, including Tibetans. However, Tibetans seem to be one case where such injustices have not led them to embrace anything so angry and violent – yet. Even in March, when the National Uprising Day protests turned “violent”, Tibetans’ anger was let loose predominantly on property – stores and goods were burned, cars overturned. The people who were injured were unintended victims – as in the case of the girls who were trapped in a Chinese store that was torched – or were Chinese soldiers. In my mind, violence against these soldiers who personally participate in perpetrating violence against Tibetans is somewhat rationally justified. They are attacking those who they see as guilty of attacking them. This is much more understandable than terrorist bombers targeting civilians who are not directly responsible for the violence or injustices committed against them.
Perhaps Tibetans’ avoidance of widespread violence is due to the pervasiveness of Buddhism and the notion of compassion within their society. Or perhaps it is because of Tibetans’ deep reverence for the Dalai Lama and his path of non-violence. Maybe this will all go out the window when His Holiness passes away. Maybe there will be stories of bomb explosions in Lhasa and key Chinese cities in the years to come. That will be a very sad day. I won’t condone violence then just because I am sympathetic to the Tibetans’ struggle.
I can understand that, strategically, there may be a time and place for some forms of violence – such as bombing important buildings or landmarks. But what is the strategic relevance of detonating bombs in a public place and killing innocent people? I fail to see how instilling fear achieves any goals, other than creating fear itself. This kind of violence only seems to rally people against the perpetrators, bonding them by a common sense of victimhood. Look at all the US has done in the last 7 years in the name of being a victim and protecting itself from further attacks – invading foreign countries, torturing whomever it deems a threat, cracking down on its own citizens’ freedoms.
I would like to believe that the world would be able to function without violence, that we could truly understand the adage, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” But I don’t think it’s possible. Violence and retaliation seem to be ingrained in the human psyche.
I first heard about the news in a text message from a friend in the States. I called a friend here in Dharamsala who filled me in on the details, and another in Delhi who put me at ease.
“Don’t worry,” said my friend in Delhi. “I’m on good terms with God.” I was comforted to hear him chuckle.
Bombs are scary enough when they are detonated in a city where I don’t know anyone. In 2001, I remember watching the US’s bombing of Baghdad on television, stunned that the government and military (and the news machine reporting it) could be so proud of something that was tearing apart human lives and families. I imagined how horrifying it must have been to live there that night.
When bombings happen in a city where I have friends and acquaintances, I worry. I know that the chances of my friends being in the vicinity of the bombs are slim, but there is a gnawing in the pit of my stomach until I can contact them. I remember how worried I was about my mum and her friend who were living in Bali when the second round of bombs exploded there, how my worries were expounded with every failed phone call. It was two entire days before I reached them, during which I couldn’t shake my fear. When I finally got through, my mum told me all mobile phone towers were shut down because the bombs had been detonated with a mobile phone.
Each time I hear of bombings, I wonder: what drives someone to want to kill others like that?
Pent up anger that festers the longer it’s contained. Political and social ostracization. Feeling unempowered. Religious differences.
People all over the world have the same laundry list of grievances, including Tibetans. However, Tibetans seem to be one case where such injustices have not led them to embrace anything so angry and violent – yet. Even in March, when the National Uprising Day protests turned “violent”, Tibetans’ anger was let loose predominantly on property – stores and goods were burned, cars overturned. The people who were injured were unintended victims – as in the case of the girls who were trapped in a Chinese store that was torched – or were Chinese soldiers. In my mind, violence against these soldiers who personally participate in perpetrating violence against Tibetans is somewhat rationally justified. They are attacking those who they see as guilty of attacking them. This is much more understandable than terrorist bombers targeting civilians who are not directly responsible for the violence or injustices committed against them.
Perhaps Tibetans’ avoidance of widespread violence is due to the pervasiveness of Buddhism and the notion of compassion within their society. Or perhaps it is because of Tibetans’ deep reverence for the Dalai Lama and his path of non-violence. Maybe this will all go out the window when His Holiness passes away. Maybe there will be stories of bomb explosions in Lhasa and key Chinese cities in the years to come. That will be a very sad day. I won’t condone violence then just because I am sympathetic to the Tibetans’ struggle.
I can understand that, strategically, there may be a time and place for some forms of violence – such as bombing important buildings or landmarks. But what is the strategic relevance of detonating bombs in a public place and killing innocent people? I fail to see how instilling fear achieves any goals, other than creating fear itself. This kind of violence only seems to rally people against the perpetrators, bonding them by a common sense of victimhood. Look at all the US has done in the last 7 years in the name of being a victim and protecting itself from further attacks – invading foreign countries, torturing whomever it deems a threat, cracking down on its own citizens’ freedoms.
I would like to believe that the world would be able to function without violence, that we could truly understand the adage, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” But I don’t think it’s possible. Violence and retaliation seem to be ingrained in the human psyche.
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