Don't Say It if You Don't Mean It

The radio was telling me a few days ago about an attack on an Istanbul airport.  So many dead, so many injured, so many in serious condition—I don’t remember the details, and I don’t particularly want to, because we are so inured to wanton devastation these days that those details may not mean as much as they should.  What stands out in my memory is one fact: that at the time, no one had “claimed responsibility” for the attack.

I hate that phrase.  It’s used nearly every time something horrible happens: who will “claim responsibility” for this new nightmare?  Clearly, these violent people have a different idea of responsibility than I do.  To me, “responsibility” involves some idea of the consequences of your actions.  Are these terrorists going to pay for the damages to buildings and infrastructure?  Will they pay for those put out of work by their actions?  Will they provide medical care to those injured?  Will they acknowledge in any way the lives that were destroyed? 

To be responsible is not just to know one’s fault, but to do what one can to correct it.  There’s no responsibility after these events, only a careless boasting that grinds salt into our wounds.  Bad enough that we have suffered; now the guilty want to pretend that there is a good reason for our suffering.  It all makes me see red.  It’s not responsibility; it’s guilt.  And the least we can do is call it what it is.