As I’m writing this, Humankind is traversing what seems like the worst pandemic in its history. The worst, even if casualties do not end up reaching the same numbers as the Spanish Flu, the disease does not catch the imagination as much as Ebola does, or earn the almost-too-banal “Black Death” nickname that the bubonic plague earned for itself in the 14th century. (I guess I’m self-centered enough to also comment that the others do not seem as bad at least in part because I was not around for any of them, and I am probably not alone for this.)
During these times, so-called “leaders” are adopting wartime language to incite us to “fight against the virus” that is assailing us all. Some are doing it as a way to incite us to do more (or, technically, less) to participate in the effort to save lives, some to distract us from their own fear and uncertainty about how to deal with this daunting challenge.
One might be tempted, in such trying times, to forgive the language as being justified for being almost literal. However, in this times as in others, what we must do is not to succumb to adversity or to demonise an ‘other’ (even if that other is just a faceless microscopic lifeform), but to rally to what makes us human.
In 1994, some who had forsaken their own humanity and wanted to take the lives of others used analogous language to persuade the citizens of Rwanda to take up whatever arms they could find and slaughter their neighbors over what are, when all is said and done, petty differences.
‘Tombstones’ of two of the Belgian peacekeepers that were assassinated by Rwandan usurpers on the early hours of the genocide against the Tutsi on April 7, 1994. ‘Madame Agathe’, the Rwandan Prime Minister, and her husband were assassinated shortly after. Photo by myself in Kigali, Rwanda, October 2017.
More importantly than remembering not to rely on dangerous ideas and language (even when they seem justified) is the idea of taking some time to remember those who also lived (and died) in terrible times.
This April, under the sign of COVID-19, remembering those who, out of a sheer commitment to what makes us all human, helped those who were hunted down by a criminal regime and militia takes special significance. Needless (but important nonetheless) to say, they were helping others at the risk of their own lives. In fact, not only were they faced with near-certain death if they were found out, but also very likely with torture. Some were made to witness the horrible deaths that were meted out on their charges before they were themselves executed.
Right now, those leaders who are focused on caring for their citizens are asking for people to stay home in order to protect not only ourselves, but more importantly others. In this case, only very little physical effort is required, and it comes with the benefit of mitigating the risk to ourselves and staying in the relative safety of our own homes. We should all seize the opportunity to do so.
And, while doing so, we can take a short while to remember the genocide against the Tutsi of 1994, and renew our commitment to never again.
The Flame of Remembrance at the Kigali Genocide Memorial, photo by my good self when I visited it in October 2017.