The real question facing Iraqis: Who do you blame now?
By John David Powell (11/25/06)
Several years ago, a fellow proclaimed in a best-selling book that he learned in kindergarten all there is to know about life. I wonder if he had daughters, because life with daughters can teach lessons much darker than any found in kindergarten.
The news over Thanksgiving reminded me of a column I’ve wanted to write for a few months. Sectarian violence in Iraq resulted in the fiery murders of more than 200 Shiite and Sunni Muslims. A radical legislator declared that the United States was to blame for the killings and called for the withdrawal of U.S. forces or the setting of a timetable for their withdrawal.
Never mind that Shiites and Sunnis have engaged in acts of barbarism against each other (and others) since Mohammed died and winged his way to heaven They will continue to slaughter each other until one group attains total domination over the other and over their religion of peace. These murderous Muslims, along with the chronically dissatisfied, the lower achievers, and all of the other whiners of the world, find convenience in blaming someone else for their ills and for their failures.
It is easy to point a finger than to engage in introspection, to take no responsibility for one’s situation. And there are those evil individuals who know the truth, but use the tools of victimization and scapegoating to fool and to recruit their feckless followers.
Back in the days of middle school and early years of high school, my younger daughter had a problem with girls. Or more correctly, girls had a problem with my daughter. As long as she had a steady boyfriend, girls her age treated her the way any teenage girl treats another human being. In other words, with minor disrespect and minimal cattiness. Whenever she was “in play”, (without a boyfriend), however, girls once friends turned into cruel and vicious enemies wary of her every laugh and possessive of every guy deemed boyfriend material.
Life was much better here at the ranch whenever my daughter was not in play. Here is what I mean. My daughter had spent one summer afternoon between seventh and eighth grades with friends, hanging around the neighborhood boat docks. At one point, some girls in the group chased her down the street. One of them punched her a few times.
I met my daughter at the home of the girl who threw the punches, and we went inside to discuss the situation with her mother and the other girls. The meeting was not confrontational; I wanted to find out everything that happened and about the events that led up to the attack. The girl admitted punching my daughter, and, incredibly, justified her actions by blaming my daughter for taking a cell phone call from a boy that one of the other girls liked.
All the girls agreed they did not appreciate their boyfriends, or boys they wanted as boyfriends, talking with my daughter. It upset them, and it wasn’t fair that my daughter should try to take them away.
My daughter told the group she didn’t have any interests in the boy who called, nor in any of their boyfriends. In fact, she didn’t want a boyfriend at the time. She was having too much fun not worrying about whether some guy was happy.
The mother was no help. She didn’t understand why I was there, particularly because she and her husband didn’t condone violence; therefore, she found it hard to believe her daughter’s confession. She also refused to admit that whoever threw the phantom punch was wrong in doing so. In her mind, and in the minds of the other girls, my daughter brought it upon herself for taking the phone call and talking with a boy that was not her boyfriend.
Pubescent female logic is not the exclusive domain of thirteen-year-old girls.
At the time of the incident, we thought we were moving to another state because of my wife’s job. I explained that to the group, and suggested the girls and the mother listen closely to what they were saying. “We’re not to blame. She’s to blame. It’s her fault that our boyfriends want to talk with her and not to us. She needed to be taught a lesson.”
At that point, I wrote a question on a napkin, folded it, and handed it to the mother, telling her to put it away until after we moved. Then, the next time the girls have problems with their boyfriends, she was to take out the napkin and answer the question I had written:
Who do you blame now?
Sometimes the most difficult problems distill to the most simple questions. U.S. forces will leave Iraq, but the kidnappings, the beheadings, the car bombs, and the sectarian insanity will not abate. When that happens, who then will they blame?
Mundus vult decipi
John David Powell
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