I was fully hit by the events this morning when, as I was riding into work listening to some music, the song made me spontaneously burst into tears.
Later this morning I went out to get some cigarettes and coffee. As I was walking back to my car with the coffee in hand the thought occurred to me: What if this was a cup of acid? Dont’ ask why, we all ask ourselevs crazy questions everyday.
But the thought of splashing acid on someone reminds me of only one thing: George Orwell’s 1984. Remembre the scene at O’brien’s flat? He said something entirely similar to, “If we commanded you to throw acid in a child’s face would you do it?” And they answered yes.
And I, the reader totally engrossed in the story, was not in the least bit shocked by Winston and Julia’s affirmative response. Hell, I knew the children were all spies anyway. Winston and Julia were the Good Guys in all of this, subjected to an oppresive, invasive regime.
So while my empathy may have been zero, my sympathy was high. Having read this novel literally more than 50 times I actually feel I’ve gotten to know these characters as somewhere from personal friends to looking at them as myself (as all good novels do: they put you in the character’s shoes, even if told in third person omniscient like this one was).
In other words, that was me nodding to O’Brien.
I about dropped my fucking coffee, let me tell you, when I drew what may seem like an obvious parallel here to recent events.
I’ve recently been involved in many debates (recently meaning within the last few months here) involving sources of morality, moral and ethical justifications for action, sources of knowledge, and in personal discussion with friends about the applicability of emotions and their inherent worth.
And yet here I stand anyway: are we all terrorists?