This pattern is old. A father passes on the heirloom of trauma to his son, like his father before him, like his father before him, like his father before him – and so on.
And still, it never stops being painful to watch.
When you witness a child who was the victim of abuse grow up to become a perpetuator of the same kind of abuse towards the next generation of innocents, because this is maybe the only way that he has ever known.
This pattern is messy and human and complex. I have no problem saying this to the people who insist that there are black and white and easy answers to questions that have bothered so many people for longer than any of us can fully comprehend.
How far are we justified in going in the name of self defense?
How far are we justified in going to defend the people we love when the people we love are threatened?
How much death and destruction is acceptable? How much? To defend the borders of the place that one has grown to know as a home, a safe haven, somewhere one can sleep at night without worrying.
“When times are bad we take care of our own.”
But studies have shown that the people who stand up for the victims of genocide tend to think that “taking care of our own” extends beyond the simple parameters of people who look like us, people who cook the same food that our family does, people who live next door, people who practice the same religion, people who have looked after our loved ones for us, people who know all the same games and the same stories. If I recall correctly, these people have something called “a universal sense of the altruistic bond.”
You are welcome at this godforsaken table by virtue of being a living breathing thing.
I don’t care what you smell like or if you haven’t brushed your teeth in a while or if you don’t know where your next meal is coming from and I don’t care if you disagree with me.
I might suck my teeth a little if your assets could provide clean drinking water to millions but you decide to buy a social media platform or go to space instead, I might balk if you think it’s okay to drop a bomb on a city full of noncombatants. But – fine.
Take a seat. We can add a little water to the soup – we can afford it.
Because if you can learn to feel safe at one table then maybe you can set down the heirloom of generational trauma for long enough not to turn around and pass on the exact same treatment to the next generation of innocent youngsters who literally just want to know they are safe, that there will always be food and warmth and water, and to know they are loved by their mothers, and that their fathers are proud of who they are becoming.
I read about Yemen this morning.
“Love thy neighbor” is just a simple quote from a really old book that has caused a lot of trouble over time.
How far are we willing to go for love?