'Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité' - solidarity against terrorism in Paris
From the age of 12 to 15, I aspired to be a War correspondent. It’s hard to remember exactly why; some combination of the feelings of relevance and importance, the excuse to call myself tough and smart at the same time, and the confidence that there’s no getting bored when you have to follow Breaking News around the Globe. But why is this ambition now relevant again after going by the wayside? You guessed, probably because your TVs, Radios, or iPhones spent last month updating you with every shocking moment and every sombre statement about the terrorist attacks in Paris.
This heartbreaking set of events have been strange for me as for a lot of people my age. When the 9/11, and the 7/7 bombings happened we were too young to really understand on this level, and at the least we were shielded from some of the truth. But this time we saw the pictures for ourselves, and understood all the horrible words that were being said on the news, reacted to the statistics and interviews and had the knowledge that this is real, and not all too far away. When I went into college three days after that dreadful day my tutor showed us a presentation sent out by Ms Barlow and covering the recent events. The presentation was for the whole school and therefore worded simply and briefly for the eleven-year-olds, as well as us – but when my teacher’s eyes began to water because she found it so difficult to discuss, all of a sudden being a reporter seemed a noble and important ambition again. Of course, only intense exposure to the moving news reports moved me to this, but the events made me want to write about something real.
It needs confronting, doesn’t it? Not to talk about these events, about the threat of terrorism which is prevalent in our lifetimes, to allow the subject to become taboo and mysterious, is to admit fear, and correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that to admit defeat? The aim of terrorist attacks such as those which had such tragic impact on the citizens of France recently is to destroy our way of life through ‘Terror’. So the only way to stand up against it is to demonstrate that we won’t be frightened into submission, that we will continue to live our lives, maintain our cultures, run our countries as we see fit. We are free nations. It’s part of who we are and that will not be changed.
In November a friendly football match was held in Wimbledon between the English and the French national teams. Though I don’t subscribe to football generally, under the circumstances it was worth tuning in to see how sombrely and respectfully the crowd observed a minute’s silence. I witnessed how many had turned out at the last minute, filling the stadium with French flags to match the one projected on the arch above; how Prince William played his ceremonial part with an expression I read as genuine sadness and shock mingled with the inescapable anxiety of what could be to come, and how the players participated in the anthems of one another’s countries, showing solidarity in place of competition. This is what we need to do. This is what can inspire us to live through it and hopefully stand up to it, rather than sinking into an abyss of fear and surrender. This is why the monuments around the world have been lit with French colours in compassion; because if we humans can be commended for anything it is that in the face of a crisis or tragedy, we come through for each other.
European nations who have been in various conflicts with one another for centuries are now negotiating as one towards a common goal, to free ourselves of the threat of terrorism. I think that’s the important thing to remember.
So if you have the moments that I have been having, where you picture what it would be like if such a disaster happened to you, your city, your home, your family, when you suddenly realise how false is your sense of security and how vulnerable we may be in this age of secret war, I hope you can turn your thoughts to the moving responses that have come from across the globe; from people of all faiths and none; the courageous actions being taken by whole countries, and most importantly the values of freedom, hope, bravery and empathy that we are willing and determined to uphold, no matter what.
Paris, I’m so sorry that this happened. I hope we’ll see the day this kind of thing will all be over for good.
Olivia Foskett, Year 13
This heartbreaking set of events have been strange for me as for a lot of people my age. When the 9/11, and the 7/7 bombings happened we were too young to really understand on this level, and at the least we were shielded from some of the truth. But this time we saw the pictures for ourselves, and understood all the horrible words that were being said on the news, reacted to the statistics and interviews and had the knowledge that this is real, and not all too far away. When I went into college three days after that dreadful day my tutor showed us a presentation sent out by Ms Barlow and covering the recent events. The presentation was for the whole school and therefore worded simply and briefly for the eleven-year-olds, as well as us – but when my teacher’s eyes began to water because she found it so difficult to discuss, all of a sudden being a reporter seemed a noble and important ambition again. Of course, only intense exposure to the moving news reports moved me to this, but the events made me want to write about something real.
It needs confronting, doesn’t it? Not to talk about these events, about the threat of terrorism which is prevalent in our lifetimes, to allow the subject to become taboo and mysterious, is to admit fear, and correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that to admit defeat? The aim of terrorist attacks such as those which had such tragic impact on the citizens of France recently is to destroy our way of life through ‘Terror’. So the only way to stand up against it is to demonstrate that we won’t be frightened into submission, that we will continue to live our lives, maintain our cultures, run our countries as we see fit. We are free nations. It’s part of who we are and that will not be changed.
In November a friendly football match was held in Wimbledon between the English and the French national teams. Though I don’t subscribe to football generally, under the circumstances it was worth tuning in to see how sombrely and respectfully the crowd observed a minute’s silence. I witnessed how many had turned out at the last minute, filling the stadium with French flags to match the one projected on the arch above; how Prince William played his ceremonial part with an expression I read as genuine sadness and shock mingled with the inescapable anxiety of what could be to come, and how the players participated in the anthems of one another’s countries, showing solidarity in place of competition. This is what we need to do. This is what can inspire us to live through it and hopefully stand up to it, rather than sinking into an abyss of fear and surrender. This is why the monuments around the world have been lit with French colours in compassion; because if we humans can be commended for anything it is that in the face of a crisis or tragedy, we come through for each other.
European nations who have been in various conflicts with one another for centuries are now negotiating as one towards a common goal, to free ourselves of the threat of terrorism. I think that’s the important thing to remember.
So if you have the moments that I have been having, where you picture what it would be like if such a disaster happened to you, your city, your home, your family, when you suddenly realise how false is your sense of security and how vulnerable we may be in this age of secret war, I hope you can turn your thoughts to the moving responses that have come from across the globe; from people of all faiths and none; the courageous actions being taken by whole countries, and most importantly the values of freedom, hope, bravery and empathy that we are willing and determined to uphold, no matter what.
Paris, I’m so sorry that this happened. I hope we’ll see the day this kind of thing will all be over for good.
Olivia Foskett, Year 13