Muslim mothers proclaim their sons and daughters as heroes when their children arm themselves to commit suicide in order to kill innocent civilians. Their communities proclaim them heroes; but they are not, making their deaths the saddest kind of all.
Among the great soldiers of the world were the Nepalese of years ago. They were known for going into battle bravely, never raping nor butchering nor focusing on killing civilians. Unlike the Islamic jihadist, according to history, they were soldiers of dignity.
While Muslim mothers are shown celebrating their sons and daughters death by suicide bombs in Iraq, Lebanon, Israel or some other place in the world, and praise them as heroes, it is hard to see how taking a bomb into a civilian market and blowing oneself up with innocent bystanders is somehow a heroic move that would get someone into paradise. Perhaps it is a way for the Muslim mother to be able to assuage her grief, but it doesn’t reveal what most civilized folks would consider acts of heroism.
In helping a professor write his book on Nepal’s relations with Tibet many years ago, something I typed and edited for him, I learned a good deal about the Gurkha soldiers of Nepal. I learned they were a different sort of soldier. They were trained for defense of the kingdom and believed that murdering civilians and raping and pillaging were cowardly acts, so it was against their code of honor to do any of these things. Indeed that’s a good message for any soldier, if a nation needs soldiers indeed.
As a Quaker I celebrate not war but the infinite capacity for people to do good things, whatever their responsibility might be in the world. Some Quakers were heroes during World War II, in non combatant status. Many of them wanted to serve their country and did, quite admirably as well. They respect all life and therefore don’t bear arms, but during the war they have gone into enemy lines to save the lives of fallen soldiers. So perhaps some might be called heroes.
I also counseled a young man named Ray Jefferson in Hawaii, an injured soldier and military officer, whose hand was blown off on a special mission to the Far East when he was holding a grenade that began to count down prematurely. He had a choice of dropping it, in which case it would have hit his men, or holding it and allowing it to blow up in his hand. He chose the latter, saving lives and losing his hand. He received a medal, commendations from the military brass in Hawaii and honors from government officials, went on to get two Masters degrees from Harvard University and now has a leadership position in business. Ray Jefferson, who some would call Arab-American or African-American (mother Egyptian, father of predominantly African ancestry) , who refers to himself just as American, to me is that hero indeed. For this man sacrificed his superior military career as a language specialist (6 languages including Arabic) and graduate of West Point to do what was right.
I think of Ray Jefferson when I read or hear about some young person somewhere who goes on a bus or out in a crowd to commit suicide and take the lives of others as well. I think of Ray Jefferson and his strong belief in his country, in himself and his God, and reflect once more on what heroism really is and know the difference again. And wish those Muslim mothers would teach their children what heroism is as well so they could celebrate their sons not with pictures on a shelf but as living, breathing souls that they can love.
