I sit here, wondering if I'm the only American who feels the way I do about the "Marathon Bombing." Surely there must be others who, when they look at that kid, the surviving bomber, get a deep and profound sense of sadness.
Up front, I'd like to make it clear in no way do I condone or sympathize with the acts of terror committed by the Tsarnaev brothers. Violence is rarely the answer to anything (some would say never). But what occurs to me is that this is the ultimate American tragedy, even more so, if possible, than 9-11. The acts on 9-11 were far more horrendous, many more people died or were permanently affected. The "body count," if you will, was much higher. "Only" three were killed in Boston, four if you include the MIT policeman, of course; nearly 200 injured—some grievously and horrifically--and there was certainly trauma.
But the difference is that the perpetrators of 9-11 were part of a much larger plot to commit acts of evil and mayhem; they came to this country for the express purpose of committing this heinous act. The brothers who carried out the "Marathon Bombing" were products of a dream gone horribly wrong.
The Tsarnaev family came to the US, escaping the violence in Chechnya. They seemed to have given their kids a great start, education at top schools, opportunities to succeed, to interact. And from all appearances, they were doing okay. The dream of immigrating to the US seemed to be working. But something was wrong in paradise. The older brother, who was a teenager when they came here, felt he was an outsider, and that's entirely possible. Americans—like people everywhere—can be right jerks when it comes to welcoming outsiders. I know this quite well from personal experience, and I was born in the US, my roots go back to before the American Revolution in this country. A *am* an American through and through, and yet so many times was made to feel unwanted and disliked. After a while, I developed a shell and just didn't try to fit in anymore.
With the internet and social media, I can imagine the older brother communicating with other displaced Chechens, forming strong opinions, reinforcing that feeling of hate and being hated. The younger brother, looking up to the older sibling, fell right into it. The acts they committed were inexcusable, but I can empathize with the feeling of outside-ness.
When I look at that face, I don't see the face of an evil mastermind, I see a kid....who was bleeding, terrified, and hunted. His face reminds me of my own son, only three years younger, and I can only feel astounding sadness that this kid felt so alone that it came to this. He will most likely be tried and executed; but some beautiful, youthfully innocent part of him was already dead.
Life is what you make of it and as
Jim Wright pointed out, and as I have pointed out to many people, there are so many niches in a country like ours, that all it takes is looking. It's a pity the Tsarnaevs didn't keep looking. A pity for Boston, a pity for the US, and a pity for a 19 year-old whose life ended when he dropped that backpack. I guess it all seemed so simple to him at that point.
