Managing terror is what makes us human

Recently we went to the St. Patrick’s Day parade that begins in Little Rock and winds up in Argenta. We took our three little dogs, because we imagine they like the happy noise and seeing all the people, a good many of whom take a moment to chuck them under their chins and coo at them. We walk the parade route, so maybe our girls believe they are a part of the show. They seem to strut and smile; they prance at the end of their tethers and fall asleep in the car on the way home.

This year, as we were crossing the bridge over the Arkansas River, Paris’ foot slipped into an expansion joint. Since her momentum was carrying her forward, she was immediately and quite firmly trapped.

If you live with animals, you probably know that they endure pain much better than they can cope with fear. You can probably imagine how heartbreaking a sight our panicked Paris made. She screeched in a way I’d never heard before. Her eyes jabbed at me.

People were lovely. A young woman dropped out of her marching corps to kneel beside Paris and stroke her head as Karen and I worked feverishly to free the paw. Several folks stopped to offer help. Though it only took a minute or so for Karen to extricate Paris, it felt like half an hour. I sweated through my shirt; I felt tears welling.

When she popped free, Paris gave a little leap to show she was all right. She showed no sign of injury. Our day saved, we all bounced along into North Little Rock.

But I don’t think I’ll ever forget that display of animal terror. I don’t want to see anything like that again. I don’t ever want my girls to be afraid. It’s much worse for them than it is for us.

Human beings are better able to manage terror than animals. In a way, it’s what makes us human. We know we’re going to die, but most of us carry on anyway. We can intellectualize the threat and anticipate relief. Even as I felt flummoxed and helpless when Paris’ leg was caught, I understood we were in no immediate danger, and that if all else failed there was a fire truck in the parade, and those guys surely had ways of coaxing a terrier’s paw out of an expansion joint. Most of my distress wasn’t due to the situation, but to Paris’ frantic reaction to it.

So I imagine sometime in the next year or two, we’ll travel back to Europe. We’ll fly into Charles de Gaulle or Schiphol or Dublin and pass sleepyeyed through customs into a part of the world we know a little and love. Because if we don’t, the people who want to paralyze us will have accomplished something, they will have scored a little victory over decency. Because you don’t need to be a hero to manage your fear, you only have to be human.

—————— If people want to hurt other people, there’s no way to stop them, in Brussels or Ankara or Beirut. Or Argenta, if it comes to it. All we can do is try to minimize the damage and track down the authors of terror. Maybe we can also try to foment understanding and ameliorate the conditions that cause the desperation that leads to acts of terrorism, but that is a long-term project that requires more patience than most of us can muster in the aftermath of suicide bombing.

But I suspect that the people who plan, fund and order these acts are not crazy. They are in many cases rational and sober actors looking to exploit our fears. These people would like to see the United States react to their crimes in draconian ways, for us to start treating our Muslim residents as potential terrorists. They would like to see us behave in ways antithetical to our proclaimed values, to prove ourselves hypocrites.

This would help to radicalize people and bring them to their side. They would be able to claim that the United States is at war with Islam. They would be able to point not only to the vitriolic comments made by frightened Americans or the rhetoric of some of the people who are running for our presidency but to actions taken by our government. They would be able to point out that our vaunted religious freedom is a hollow promise; that we persecute good people because members of their faith are in the minority.

They want us to become what they claim we are. And some of us are ready to be that crusader nation.

It is not hard to find people willing to say that we are in extraordinary circumstances and that we must take extraordinary measures to protect our way of life. There are people who insist that we meet bombs with bombs. Donald Trump has even advocated that we use the terrorists’ illegal and immoral means against them—that we kill their families, that we make innocents fearful of our retribution. Ted Cruz has joked about making sand glow.

But our situation is not extraordinary; there have always been people willing to slaughter people because they perceive some fundamental difference. Our technology has gotten better, and maybe it is more difficult to imagine yourself safe in your home or the local square, but I doubt most of us face any more risks than our grandparents did. We’re just less willing to accept risks.

We’re more afraid—and maybe a little less human—than the generations who fought in the Somme or on Guadalcanal. It’s not fun to feel uncertain, trapped and afraid. But we can stand it. We don’t have to panic.

We’re not animals.

PHILIP MARTIN