Op-Ed: Terror and Iran Talks
MP Fiamma NirensteinHon. Fiamma Nirenstein is the Vice-President of the Committee on Foreign Affairs and Chair of the Committee for the Inquiry into Antisemitism in the Italian Chamber of Deputies
It is hard to gain an insight on terrorism: it takes years of internship, living in the midst of attacks, casualties, and terrorists themselves.
As a journalist you do, and you realize that when you don't have a direct experience of the event, a sort of collective repression inevitably tends to sort it there where the cause-effect principle applies, where logic and civilization rule. It is not how the matter stands though.
Rightly, Eli Wiesel asserts that definitive, international laws, the ones on Crimes against Humanity are needed to fight terrorism.
It is indeed the worst kind of war. You are thrown into a world where nothing you teach your kids applies. There is no prize, no punishment: you can be a wonderful, an innocent soul like Melissa - the 16-year-old girl killed by a terror attack upon a school in Brindisi on May 19 th - yet terror hits you like a plague.
Terror kills, it permanently maims, it confines you into a depressive condition or in a post traumatic stress disorder forever. The Biblical Job's paradox comes true: your shoah can assume different characteristics. Whoever gets hit, even though they were lucky enough to survive, they still are hard hit.
Those who escaped, at the end of the day are stuck forever, their lives being doomed. Whoever was not there, because by pure chance they had stayed at home that day (papers published the story of Anna Ancona's niece who could not go to school) risk filling the physical void with a nonexistent fault that will eventually destroy them.
If you happen to be a friend, a parent, a schoolmate or a colleague of a victim, the torment inflicted by the terrorist will drag you into the tunnel.
Terrorism is a big war, just think of Ireland, Israel, Iraq, just imagine the huge ambition terrorism displays when it lays its hands on the most important of world's capital cities with the attacks to Twin Towers', London, and Madrid.
No matter that it was a madman in this case: the Islamic terrorist or else the guy firing a gun in Columbine and shooting his college mates, or else the suicide bomber at Cafe Hillel in Jerusalem who killed a father and a daughter who were there celebrating that the girl, Nava Applebaum, was to get married the next day, or else the one who killed Melissa - they all make up one single army.
A terror attack does not end as soon as the blast ceases, it does not die at the same time as its victims; neither does it heal with the cares provided to the injured.
You have to hang on to the dialogue with an unjust death. Victims tell that when you are deafened by a bomb, you are plunged in a total silence, you get to see - with the sound turned off - a flood of blood drowning you, fire burning you, you are not really aware of whether you are dead or alive. Then life resumes volume again; your own pain hits you as well as that of the ones around you.
It is your life resuming after silence, the silence of death as I was once told by a victim.
From the rescue onwards, you face an ordeal feeling not only physical pain but also the remorse for being alive as well as pity for the humanity committing such atrocities.
Our thoughts go not only to Veronica Capodieci 15, still on the danger list, hanging like a lioness onto her life, but also to Vanessa, her sister, 19. She was allegedly saved by her sister who shielded her with her own body.
And we think of Selena Greco, also in critical conditions as well as the other girls Sabrina, Vittoria, who fought their own way the battle against terrorism buoying each other while burning alive; they still are to fight that stage of the battle terrorists rely on: the destruction of their personality.
This is indeed the reason why - during the Intifada years - terrorists were certain to succeed in chasing Israelis away from Jerusalem through ongoing explosions in buses and cafes, or the Irish able to bend the English by killing people in pubs. It can also be else white American supremacists aiming to undermine society at its foundations, trying to corrode its cohesion with blood; or Talibans terrorizing people who nurture hopes for a slightly better society.
A terror attack fails any rationale, the fate's whim may kill you and not someone sitting few inches away, or else it may kill the other and leave you alive always wondering why this happened to him and not to you.
In Jerusalem's pedestrian area Eran Mizrachi, an approximately 15 year old boy was lined up with other eleven boys, who all got killed by a suicide bomber while they were in a pub. He was dead, his twin brother Avi, however, provided him with artificial respiration for 25 minutes until he managed to resuscitate him.
He then ran up the stairs to the roof, resolute to jump off despite his success: he could not bear what his brother had been subjected to. He was stopped, his brother Eran was later injured in another attack. That's what terrorism is.
When you see the body of a killed terrorist, as the reporter experienced, rather than having pity, it is curiosity that you get from the sight of his dead trunk.
You wish you could ask him several questions: Why? What kind of world did you envisage to build on the bodies of kids, youth, innocent souls?
Our curiosity would not be appeased, as we would get an array of plain stereotyped, empty replies. Terrorism, regardless its make up, has got a leitmotif: the hatred of life, the hatred of civilization. Some of them claim that is actually their greatest tactical asset over the ones who, instead, love life.
We absolutely have to win this challenge because if we won't, they will kill even our soul.
Iran talks: an idiotic gift to nuclear folly
A petite brunette, with enticing almond eyes, a heart-shaped mouth, and a silky voice, Saba Farzan is an Iranian young intellectual living in Germany.
A feminist, a prominent person, founder of the blog Transatlantic Perspectives, she also writes for the Wall Street Journal. Intervening recently at a Conference in Rome with a panel of brilliant experts (Ottolenghi, Leeden, Dore Gold, Massari), her childlike voice mesmerized the audience, as she explained quietly yet desperately what the talks on the Iran's nuclear program - which will resumed in Baghdad on the 23 rd - will result in.
Mrs Ashton and whoever, will pretend expectations they do not have, while the Iranian negotiators will profusely smile, determined to buy time and leave the stage with another scheduled appointment.
If you read the novels by the American writer Paul Auster - Saba Farzan explains - they usher you to the end, and when the end falls on the reader, you are left with a thousand unanswered questions. But what about him, and her, and the future … ? Please Paul, don't go, please tell me how will it end up?
It is the same. As each single round of talks with Iran comes to an end, we will be left wondering like fools, while the Iranians will go back home and continue to enrich uranium.
On the contrary, a 2005 novel, The Brooklyn Follies, does come to a conclusion. This story ends as a matter of fact with September 11's attack to the Twin Towers.
Violence, relentless ideological hatred, thousands of victims of the Islamic extremist folly. This - says Saba in her childlike voice to a speechless audience - is the conclusion of the talks: after an additional time gain, Ahmadinejad's nuclear bomb.
Nothing will be as it used to be. She adds: If you asked average people in Iran whether they would prefer another 30 years of ayatollah's regime or that the nuclear plants be bombed, you would be completely wrong if you reckoned they would prefer the hell of the regime.
Keep that in mind - Saba said.
Sent to Arutz Sheva by the author in translation from Il Giornio