03-Am I wrong?

Am I wrong?

I'm wrong, right? Can compassion for a terrorist be right? Aftermath is my first consideration of this point of view, a point of view from a person whose very purpose is to grind the mind of others into horrified paralysis. Terrorism by its nature is political. It is not a religion or a resource. It is an idea. It is the attempt of the few to influence the many through fear. Fear is power. Hate is not the opposite of love; power is. Hate is simply a selfish form of power. Revenge might be the most selfish. On the opposite side of that same stick, codependency is the selfless form of power.

The arrogant man has no regrets. I have too many. Too see myself as less than some kind of monster on some kind of day is to deny my humanity. The extent of my ugliness is far from murder, rape, or terror. My ugliness does not extend beyond the pride of frustration or the rage of anger. I can say, without hesitation, I have never intentionally, physically assaulted another. Okay. Although not intentional, I'll confess to physically assaulting multiple victims. I went through an awkward phase in junior high. I was a big, strong football player (in 8^th grade, I was <10% body fat, 5'10” and 170lbs). I often showed my love in a slightly painful way. But luck would have it that I had a friend courageous enough to say something. After his frank words, the “friendly” punch on the shoulder ended. This did wonders for my social status, something I'll eternally struggle with. Multiple learning disabilities including dyslexia will forever complicated this aspect of life. Of course at my current age, the mere perception of others is not a primary concern.

It is often comfortable to draw a line between them and us. We enjoy the enumeration of the asymptote: “I can understand this but not that.” The line can be as simple as light gossip or as complex as war. Having often been on the other side of that line, I've become reluctant to draw it. So when I came to know the story of Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, the surviving Boston Marathon bomber, I could not help feeling compassion: his future is a sad irony.

The Manchurian Candidate, Clockwork Orange, Brazil…moving movies indeed about brainwashing. But they are movies. In reality, brainwashing is much more mundane and tedious. It is the cult-mentality. Requirements: isolation, sole reliance, indoctrination, and a singular solution to the struggle between them and us. When you have the complete attention of someone, you can define the line and list the grievances; you can create a concrete reality of alarming hostility from the enemy and immediate need for action. And then you can introduce the final solution for the soldier willing to fight this evil.

Tamerlan (the older brother) was very different from Dzhokhar. The struggles and horrors of growing up in Dagestan created the foundation of his perception. Our country was a mystery to him; he had no American friends. He was a fighter. He didn't understand us. And then there was the warning from Russia in 2011 and the trip home in early 2012.

Dzhokhar grew up in America. Tamerlan's painful childhood memories were mere shadows in Dzhokhar's mind who became a citizen. He got a scholarship. He was in college. He had a future. Friends found his actions unbelievable, outside of his character. Sweet; nice; these are the terms those who knew him use. He loved soccer and cars. He was a funny guy. Religion wasn't even on his radar. He bought into the American Dream only to have it crushed by his older brother.

My question is: did the older brother brainwash the younger brother and leave him holding the bag? Dzhokhar was isolated in the sense that Tamerlan was the only family he had contact with. He relied on his older brother during the formidable years. It is not a stretch to image that Tamerlan indoctrinated Dzhokhar with fear and hatred for the US. And how would they fight this wrong? How would the settle the score between them and us? Terrorism.

And now? Tamerlan's dead. He went out in a blaze of glory. But Dzhokhar is alive. This young kid will pay the full, adult price. He will spend the rest of his life accounting for his brother's vision. He may have chosen to follow and he may have done it willingly. But one thing is certain, before Tamerlan's trip, Dzhokhar had a future. According to friends, he loved America, knew the slang, the rituals of being a teenager in Boston until his brother's ideas twisted that view into hate. Dzhokhar joined the cult of Tamerlan. And in the end, under that tarp, did he regret this path to the extent that he tried to kill himself? If my speculation is anywhere near the mark, then it is a further slap in the face of humanity that the wrong brother must bear the burden of this tragedy– the pawn is left alive to settle the king's score.

Aftermath describes both brothers’ postmortem fate. A fair, complete account is an accurate description. It also suggest that if Tamerlan ever wants to see Dzhokhar again, death will not prevent him from knowing every detail of his brother's fate as well as the others. If we choose to love one another, we choose the ripples that follow in the wake of our actions.