I started writing this post after seeing a particular scene in the series “The Terminal List”. The scene showed a moment when someone faced a harsh truth. You could see it in his eyes, the moment it sank in. It was a powerful scene. I spent the next days reflecting on my immediate reaction, trying to understand the mentality of “an eye for an eye”, if or why I liked it, wondering what society would look like if we didn’t have our current justice system, trying to understand the different reactions people exhibit when a victim takes justice into their own hands etc. As I started writing, I realized how deep and complex the topic was. It went far beyond my initial observation; that society was taken aback by victims who took justice into their own hands. The topic touches me in a thousand different ways, and so, the post became challenging to write. Not because it became personal, but because I struggled to tie together the vast number of perspectives and keep some sense of coherency. Before you start reading, let me highlight the main points I want to convey:
- Seeing/recognizing/becoming aware is EVERYTHING to me. I was never seen as a child. The people close to me didn’t see the pain they inflicted on me. I was powerless. If I had been seen, I would have a chance to make them stop. You can see why “seeing” is important to me.
- You can come to me with your most “unacceptable” and unsavory parts, I WILL WELCOME THEM. My morality is different. I will listen with an open heart if you tell me you want to rape someone, are turned on by a child, or fantasize about shooting people… I will understand.
Unless you SEE, you have no access to power. Every action you make will not yield to its full fruition.
Only WHEN you see, you get an opportunity to understand. Understanding makes you treat people in a way that change the world.
There’s always a reason why we feel the way we do, and if you have unsavory feelings/impulse, it doesn’t mean (1) you will feel it forever, (2) you have to act on the feeling.
Now, let me share my original post.
One thing that fascinates me lately is the dismissal and ignorance when it comes to cause and effect. We know A leads to B, we don’t blink an eye when the soil gets wet from rain, or when an antelope who walks into a pack of lions get killed, but when a dad rapes his daughter and she finally beats him to the point of permanent brain damage, we struggle. Along with a lot of other people, I find myself siding with the perpetrator. Her reaction was uncalled for, she shouldn’t have taken it that far, I even see people say she shouldn’t have let it go this far, pointing to the harboring of resentment and rage.
Why do we have a tendency to put the burden, the blame and responsibility, on the victim? We don’t just blame the victim for causing the incident, we also blame them for not reacting the “right” way to what happened. It’s either that, or we wish the abuser suffering and death.
Years back, I listened to “Tales From The Streets”. They talked to a man who had been molested by his dad (his life had been full of suffering; drugs, prison, and now living on the streets). One day when the boy had become an adult, and was home visiting his parents, he went into the kitchen, picked up a knife, walked into the living room where the dad was watching TV, and slit his throat. What was my first reaction? I felt bad for the dad, he didn’t deserve to be killed. My thoughts said: “I understand that he is hurt, but he should have sought justice in a different way”. By “different” I meant “He should have risen above his need for revenge”. I wanted justice to happen in a way that was more humane and showed understanding for the perpetrator. Is that the same reason others blame the victim? Do we avoid our own pain by expecting ourselves to rise above? Is understanding the abuser our only (false) sense of power?
I recently watched a series called “The Terminal List” where I followed a special forces soldier in his search for truth and retribution. His team was killed to cover up the unethical testing of a new PTSD treatment, and his wife and daughter was murdered in an attempt to frame and discredit him in case he went public with the truth. In one of the scenes, the soldier has gotten to one of the generals responsible, along with the generals’ wife and son. The look in the generals’ eyes when he realizes he is about to watch his wife and son being shot speaks more than words can convey. It says, “an eye for an eye”. It tells the story of a man who is forced to face his actions. It’s the look of accepting one’s faith.
A part of me finds beauty in the moment when the general feels the reality of what he did to the soldier and his family. Until that moment, the general wasn’t connected to the impact he/his actions had – he wasn’t connected to the world around him.
I’m not advocating an “eye for an eye”-mentality. Most days I believe in love. At the same time, I’m asking myself: “Why not give back in the same vein”, if it wakes us up? I think we could do better when it comes to recognizing the impact we have on everything we interact with. What do you think would happen if you made a practice of asking yourself: “How am I impacting the other person?”. I see perpetrators who, when the victim finally reacts, don’t comprehend their reaction. The perpetrator is not the only person who doesn’t understand. I have talked to friends and family that are taken aback by a victim’s “unreasonable” reaction. If that doesn’t tell you the severity of disconnection we are experiencing, I don’t know what will.
Why do you think an adolescent decides to go “no contact” with their family?
What do you think the children in Palestine will feel, and do, when they become older?
When a kid shoots up 81 fellow schoolmates, do you think it comes from nothing?
What do you think drives someone to rape someone?
The judgement we have towards heinous acts doesn’t do anything to change the unwanted. It tells us WHAT’S unwanted, but it doesn’t foster change. To change, we need to understand the why, as well as pour acceptance into the wound that caused the why.
When we act as if we’ve been hurt, it’s because we were.
Gunhild Archer, counselor 