This is an excerpt from a not-so-short story I wrote a while back (Kegel, you ought to recognize it pretty fast). The character of Simon is heavily based on a man I met randomly at my college one year, and the views expressed echo some of his thoughts almost exactly. The story about the girls and the bar and getting kicked out is a true story he told me. Anyways, I just thought I'd share that opinion here, for the sake of perspective.
From Salam (Rated PG-13-- you've been warned)
Simon held his breath before letting out a long sigh. “Before I went overseas, I can’t say I was much unlike our dead friend over there,” Simon admitted. “I mean, I didn’t think they were all terrorists, and I was polite to them and all, but… I’d cross the street when I’d see an Arab walking up, or I’d be nervous when two of them might speak in Arabic around me because I didn’t know what they were saying. It’s the little racisms that we often aren’t even aware of. It’s in all of us. And sometimes, you just can’t help it.”
As Nick looked around at the men who held them captive, he couldn’t help but understand exactly what Simon Rivers was saying. He had always thought of himself as a nice guy, always open-minded and unprejudiced, after all in his job, he had to be. He saw a lot of strange things. But he knew that if he made it out of here, no matter what he told himself, he would never be able to look at a Middle Easterner the same way again. And he knew it was wrong, and it wouldn’t affect the way he treated them, but in the back of his mind, he would always be just a little bit afraid of them. And a part of himself hated that, while another part of himself knew that it was survival instincts that made these things happen. Fear the different and propagate your own breed. If it’s you or them, always choose yourself. Self-centered evolution. Survival of the fittest race.
It was in this recognition that he came to some unnerving understanding of the terrorists’ minds as well. They were acting out of hatred and fear. They had grown up with death, had been victimized, had been taught that the only way to survive, the only way to spread your message, is to kill everyone who doesn’t agree. Is to kill everyone who would otherwise kill you.
“Before the war,” Simon continued, “I was also a fervent supporter of our President George ‘Dubya’ Bush.”
“Now not so much?” Nick inquired.
“I don’t mean to start any political conversations,” Simon said hastily. “You’re entitled to your opinion, it’s just that… When you look at what’s going on over there, I mean, I thought we were gonna be doing some good, you know? The people there, they don’t quite see it the same way as we do back home. I went over when this all started, you know, back in 2003. And I was full of all these ideas and shit… And then when I got there, and I saw what was going on, I wondered if he— that is to say, our Commander in Chief or any of his puppeteers— had any idea what kind of mess he was starting. Don’t get me wrong— I’m still a staunchly red republican, but I’m no fool. There are dark things over there. Everything changes. The world you thought it was, it ain’t. There are no rules, and there are no sure things. And you think you’re the good guys, little do you know the ones you’re gunning down think the exact same thing about themselves. Nah, there’s no good in war, you learn that quick. You’re all just bad guys, killing people you rationalize are more bad than you are only because you can’t fathom anything else lest you lose your nerve in battle. Let me tell you, when you got a terrorist attack on your barracks, bombs going off left and right, not to mention the explosions from damaged ammunition, you can convince yourself of anything. It’s all about perspective. Even with these folk here.”
Nick cast his eyes downward, partly out of respect for all this man had seen, but also partly because he knew that no matter how he tried, he would never have any idea what it was like to be fighting in a war you don’t even know if you believe in anymore. It was an experience he thanked God he never had to go through.
Simon continued. “Colleague of mine got a purple heart for rescuing five men from becoming POWs and rigging the enemy’s own trucks to explode, killing fifty insurgents. I always said, you want to punish the crooks and fight a war, you send them folks on death row on over here, let them take care of it, kill two birds with one stone. They got the killing blood already in them. Me, I wasn’t so sure. At least not until I bagged myself a first kill. First blood. The smell of it stirs something primal in you, wouldn’t you say, Nick?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Nick muttered honestly.
“And yet…” Simon continued. “I come back here, and I don’t get arrested. I don’t get my rights read to me, I don’t got to hire no fancy lawyers, I just got to grin and keep my mouth shut while I accept my honors for getting my arm blown off from a president I don’t know if I rightly trust anymore…
“I went to a club with some girls I’d known before the war after I get back, they were republicans too, and we go in this bar up in Seattle. The bartender flirted with one of them, she wasn’t interested. He flipped out when he looked in her purse and saw an elephant pin that said Vote Republican. She wasn’t even wearing it or nothing, this guy looked in her purse and found it and what’s this guy do? He kicks us out of his bar, that’s right, kicks us right on out, saying, ‘I don’t want no brainless Bush lackeys runnin’ up in here!’ Bush lackeys! Can you imagine that? Kicked us out of his bar for that. And here I was thinking America was the civil side of the world. Tell you the truth, people are more up front about things when they're on the front lines. They may judge you based on nationality, based on religion, but here in the US of A, we take bigotry to a whole new level. No, now we have to judge people based on political opinion, based on what shoes they wear, or how they brush their hair…
“Now, I know you didn’t ask for a sermon, Nick, but… These folks? These terrorists up in here? They’ve been more honest with me than my own government, s’far as I can tell. They point their gun at me and they tell me I step outta line and they’re gonna kill me, plain and simple. Our Commander in Chief, he makes you sign a piece of paper without giving you time to read the fine print. He shows you a military beret and hidden behind it is a loaded AK 47, and he says to you, ‘Serve your country, fight for freedom, and you’ll be honored…’” Simon’s eyebrows furrowed, his lips twitching in a dark frown. When he spoke again, his voice was colder, darker, and that darkness was something Nick could relate to. “The deaths I saw… a man’s head cut completely down the middle, a soldier torn clearly in half, his clothes burned right off by a land mine, his torso in a tree and his legs meat for the dogs on the ground… Nah, Nick. There ain’t no honor in a death like that.”
Nick felt chilled by his words, like a ten-year-old who had just heard a gory, hideous ghost story at one o’clock in the morning. Cautiously, he looked up at the lieutenant who was staring out into space with the strangest frown on his face, probably lost in some horrible memory Nick would never be able to fathom.
From Salam (Rated PG-13-- you've been warned)
Simon held his breath before letting out a long sigh. “Before I went overseas, I can’t say I was much unlike our dead friend over there,” Simon admitted. “I mean, I didn’t think they were all terrorists, and I was polite to them and all, but… I’d cross the street when I’d see an Arab walking up, or I’d be nervous when two of them might speak in Arabic around me because I didn’t know what they were saying. It’s the little racisms that we often aren’t even aware of. It’s in all of us. And sometimes, you just can’t help it.”
As Nick looked around at the men who held them captive, he couldn’t help but understand exactly what Simon Rivers was saying. He had always thought of himself as a nice guy, always open-minded and unprejudiced, after all in his job, he had to be. He saw a lot of strange things. But he knew that if he made it out of here, no matter what he told himself, he would never be able to look at a Middle Easterner the same way again. And he knew it was wrong, and it wouldn’t affect the way he treated them, but in the back of his mind, he would always be just a little bit afraid of them. And a part of himself hated that, while another part of himself knew that it was survival instincts that made these things happen. Fear the different and propagate your own breed. If it’s you or them, always choose yourself. Self-centered evolution. Survival of the fittest race.
It was in this recognition that he came to some unnerving understanding of the terrorists’ minds as well. They were acting out of hatred and fear. They had grown up with death, had been victimized, had been taught that the only way to survive, the only way to spread your message, is to kill everyone who doesn’t agree. Is to kill everyone who would otherwise kill you.
“Before the war,” Simon continued, “I was also a fervent supporter of our President George ‘Dubya’ Bush.”
“Now not so much?” Nick inquired.
“I don’t mean to start any political conversations,” Simon said hastily. “You’re entitled to your opinion, it’s just that… When you look at what’s going on over there, I mean, I thought we were gonna be doing some good, you know? The people there, they don’t quite see it the same way as we do back home. I went over when this all started, you know, back in 2003. And I was full of all these ideas and shit… And then when I got there, and I saw what was going on, I wondered if he— that is to say, our Commander in Chief or any of his puppeteers— had any idea what kind of mess he was starting. Don’t get me wrong— I’m still a staunchly red republican, but I’m no fool. There are dark things over there. Everything changes. The world you thought it was, it ain’t. There are no rules, and there are no sure things. And you think you’re the good guys, little do you know the ones you’re gunning down think the exact same thing about themselves. Nah, there’s no good in war, you learn that quick. You’re all just bad guys, killing people you rationalize are more bad than you are only because you can’t fathom anything else lest you lose your nerve in battle. Let me tell you, when you got a terrorist attack on your barracks, bombs going off left and right, not to mention the explosions from damaged ammunition, you can convince yourself of anything. It’s all about perspective. Even with these folk here.”
Nick cast his eyes downward, partly out of respect for all this man had seen, but also partly because he knew that no matter how he tried, he would never have any idea what it was like to be fighting in a war you don’t even know if you believe in anymore. It was an experience he thanked God he never had to go through.
Simon continued. “Colleague of mine got a purple heart for rescuing five men from becoming POWs and rigging the enemy’s own trucks to explode, killing fifty insurgents. I always said, you want to punish the crooks and fight a war, you send them folks on death row on over here, let them take care of it, kill two birds with one stone. They got the killing blood already in them. Me, I wasn’t so sure. At least not until I bagged myself a first kill. First blood. The smell of it stirs something primal in you, wouldn’t you say, Nick?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Nick muttered honestly.
“And yet…” Simon continued. “I come back here, and I don’t get arrested. I don’t get my rights read to me, I don’t got to hire no fancy lawyers, I just got to grin and keep my mouth shut while I accept my honors for getting my arm blown off from a president I don’t know if I rightly trust anymore…
“I went to a club with some girls I’d known before the war after I get back, they were republicans too, and we go in this bar up in Seattle. The bartender flirted with one of them, she wasn’t interested. He flipped out when he looked in her purse and saw an elephant pin that said Vote Republican. She wasn’t even wearing it or nothing, this guy looked in her purse and found it and what’s this guy do? He kicks us out of his bar, that’s right, kicks us right on out, saying, ‘I don’t want no brainless Bush lackeys runnin’ up in here!’ Bush lackeys! Can you imagine that? Kicked us out of his bar for that. And here I was thinking America was the civil side of the world. Tell you the truth, people are more up front about things when they're on the front lines. They may judge you based on nationality, based on religion, but here in the US of A, we take bigotry to a whole new level. No, now we have to judge people based on political opinion, based on what shoes they wear, or how they brush their hair…
“Now, I know you didn’t ask for a sermon, Nick, but… These folks? These terrorists up in here? They’ve been more honest with me than my own government, s’far as I can tell. They point their gun at me and they tell me I step outta line and they’re gonna kill me, plain and simple. Our Commander in Chief, he makes you sign a piece of paper without giving you time to read the fine print. He shows you a military beret and hidden behind it is a loaded AK 47, and he says to you, ‘Serve your country, fight for freedom, and you’ll be honored…’” Simon’s eyebrows furrowed, his lips twitching in a dark frown. When he spoke again, his voice was colder, darker, and that darkness was something Nick could relate to. “The deaths I saw… a man’s head cut completely down the middle, a soldier torn clearly in half, his clothes burned right off by a land mine, his torso in a tree and his legs meat for the dogs on the ground… Nah, Nick. There ain’t no honor in a death like that.”
Nick felt chilled by his words, like a ten-year-old who had just heard a gory, hideous ghost story at one o’clock in the morning. Cautiously, he looked up at the lieutenant who was staring out into space with the strangest frown on his face, probably lost in some horrible memory Nick would never be able to fathom.