Like a candle in the water
Yesterday evening, at a ceremony in remembrance of the terrible events of 13 November 2015, a fleet of tiny blue-white-red candles glided slowly—softly and silently—across the dark waters of the Saint-Martin Canal in the neighborhood of the Bastille in Paris.
Patrick Jardin had lost his daughter Nathalie, in charge of lighting at the Bataclan. But he was absent from yesterday’s ceremonies. His explanations were terse: “One doesn’t react to kalashnikovs with candles on the water and plaques on the wall.”
He was right in some ways, but wrong in others. Of course we have to track down terrorists and prevent them from harming our societies. This means the use of deadly weapons, not candles. But it doesn’t mean pure vengeance. In any case, yesterday, the people of Paris were not searching for terrorists to be eliminated. Nor were they thinking of criticizing Paris authorities who had not been able to protect all the citizens of the City of Light, including the young lady of the Bataclan lighting. They were simply celebrating in dignity and silence, by means of lit candles, the memory of Nathalie and the other innocent victims of 13 November 2015.
He was right in some ways, but wrong in others. Of course we have to track down terrorists and prevent them from harming our societies. This means the use of deadly weapons, not candles. But it doesn’t mean pure vengeance. In any case, yesterday, the people of Paris were not searching for terrorists to be eliminated. Nor were they thinking of criticizing Paris authorities who had not been able to protect all the citizens of the City of Light, including the young lady of the Bataclan lighting. They were simply celebrating in dignity and silence, by means of lit candles, the memory of Nathalie and the other innocent victims of 13 November 2015.
#13Novembre2015 #ParisAttacks
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