Justine Frangouli-Argyris
I heard the news surrounding the mass
killing of the 12 journalists at “Charlie Hebdo” in Paris early Wednesday from
a friend who is working in the “City of Light" this year. “The capital is
paralyzed by fear," he said,
after Islamist extremists had struck the heart of French freedom of
expression by attacking the renowned satirical weekly newspaper.
I arose with an anxiety that quickly spread
to all the muscles of my body and mind. Earlier this year, the radical
fundamentalist group, ISIS, had warned it would attack all the countries partaking in the fight against its
guerrillas in the Middle East which have been brutally beheading Western
hostages on camera in an effort to spread their
message of terror and death.
Before I came to realize what was
happening, a third jihadist had killed a female police officer the following day in
Paris. And, during the subsequent massive manhunt for the three terrorists, I saw pictures of those held hostage in a Jewish grocery being murdered. I was shocked, not knowing for whom or for what to
mourn.
For the exceptional cartoonists who fell
victim to Islamic fundamentalism?
For the savage blow to democracy and
freedom of expression in the press?
For Ahmed Merabet, the Muslim policeman
who was mercilessly gunned down in cold blood?
For the hostages in the Jewish grocery store
who fell victim to a growing religious-political war?
For the young Muslim radicals who were born
and raised in France but became subservient to the teachings of ISIS and Al-Qaeda?
For the inability of the French secret
service to keep an eye on the extremists who had recently returned from a stint
in Syria, making them perfect potential terrorist candidates?
For Western society which is unable to
integrate immigrants coming from
Muslim countries, incapable of making them proud citizens of the Western world?
For the Muslims who freely choose to migrate
to the West but allow a hatred for Western society to fester in them?
For the world’s major power brokers
in whose interests our innocence
is being sacrificed?
For myself, Justine, who matures, day by day, discovering the horrible
face of fear?
For our children who are learning to
fear Muslims and be suspicious of them?
For the gap that the jihadist attacks have opened between the
Muslims and the other populations of the West?
For the consigning to oblivion of the
slogan "make love, not war?"
For the hatred that deepens daily
between Muslims and other religious cultures?
A week after the dramatic attacks in
Paris, while the world surged through the streets to show a common will
against the terror that sows terror, I'm feeling sorry and afraid.
I am not pacified by the demonstrations
of solidarity towards Charlie Hebdo and the French people. I am not reassured
by the hand-to-hand march of Western and Eastern leaders last Sunday in Paris.
I'm feeling sorry and afraid.
I feel sorry for the heroes of Charlie
Hebdo who lay pointlessly dead at the hands of youths in a zealous frenzy.
I feel sorry for Ahmed who could not be saved
by the fact that he was a Muslim
himself.
I am afraid for Justine in the West who
respects the East but cannot defend its actions any longer.
A week after the deadly terrorist
attacks, I feel sorry and I feel fear. These two emotional states have been
planted deep inside me, first with the attack on the World Trade Center in
2001, then with the Boston Marathon bombing in 2013 and, finally, with the savage
killings in Paris as I awoke last Wednesday. From now on, I know that I will be
living with sorrow for what has occurred and with fear for what is going to
happen!
