Terrorism brings out the worst in people

It was playwright John Mortimer who pointed out that the legal system
would be absolutely nowhere, my dear, without criminals and I take his
point.

by Heather Mallick
July 17, 2005

Terrorism brings out the worst in people. Naturally, I don't mean the
terrorists themselves. They are a sub-group of humans whose view of
their fellow man is even more difficult to define or understand than
that of serial killers (terrorists who work one victim at a time).

No, I mean the people who see career opportunities in societal
misfortune. What a strange gang they are. It was playwright John
Mortimer who pointed out that the legal system would be absolutely
nowhere, my dear, without criminals and I take his point. A police
chief's job is to convince the populace that crime is on the rise so
that he can have huge staff increases, bigger bullets and totally cool
helicopters that fly by night and can see into your bedroom. He needs
criminals.

Usually chiefs can be put off by statisticians who point out how the
crime numbers have been fondled and punched more than a ball of bread
dough. We had a police chief like that in Toronto recently. They've put
him in charge of terrorism and now he sees terrorists everywhere. He
needs them. I'm not saying they may not be somewhere, but they're not
nibbling on my toes as I write this.

But the worst - and funniest - case of terrorism salesmanship is an
American named Ty Fairman who came to Canada this week to lecture us on
how to change our way of life to fight terrorists whose greatest desire
"is to change our way of life," he says, which I call
self-defeating, but it flows for Ty.

At first, I was going to make fun of Ty's name, but it turns out his
real name is Tyrine, so I'll call him Mr. Fairman. His advice to
Canadian city-dwellers is to be vigilant on the subway. "Everyone has
to become their own law enforcement," he advises. But weren't you
raised being told that? Don't put firecrackers in mailboxes, don't egg
people's houses, don't lick someone else's lollipop.

I suspect Mr. Fairman means something else, i.e. everyone has to become
everyone else's law enforcement, especially on the subway. In this, we
are as one. When I am on the subway, I am everyone's litter collector,
which maddens my husband. "You don't know where it's been," he says
agitatedly. I take grave exception to this remark, which I used to use
on the children when they were little. They are out of the house and I
am a grownup, I say. From there, the debate balloons.

Stay alert on the subway, Mr. Fairman advises, not understanding that
everyone's dearest wish is to dive into an I-am-not-on-the-subway
trance. "Try not to fall asleep," he advises. And then he drops his
biggest clanger. Can we read on the subway? "I wouldn't support
it."

This doesn't surprise me. When you read Mr. Fairman's website and
attendant literature on his speech in Toronto, it becomes apparent that
Mr. Fairman is not only Agent Jack Bauer, fighting all things nasty,
but he is illiterate in the sense of being incomprehensible.

"This session is aimed at altering your general thought process when
implementing national security and corporate investigative and
intelligence techniques. Attendees will be challenged to think above
and beyond their own perceptions and taught to embrace a mindset that
will allow them to deter possible threats more efficiently and
effectively."

In other words, he wants to teach security types to think about
terrorism in a more inventive way.

Have you ever read a paragraph more in need of parsing?

He wants us upright, eyes peeled for dodgy fellow passengers. What he
doesn't grasp is that on a subway, everyone looks dodgy, including me.
If people aren't drooling or talking to themselves about hateful
co-workers, they're doing something disgusting with their nose (perhaps
practising for when they buy a car). I was horrified to read that the
possible bomber on the London bus kept scrabbling inside his bag
anxiously. I spend entire subway rides doing that.

My stream of consciousness: Where are sunglasses oh god left at bank
machine, they'll be stolen which is what I deserve for buying Chanel as
de-gloomer, it's hemp glasses from now on, lord my pen is dripping,
never mind I'll manage my to-do list with lip liner, hmmm, talk to
Knopf, why not like book title Biter of Cattle, lawn sprinkler with
pressure stopcock device NOT GARDENA Biotherm eye cream, here is One
Hundred Years of Solitude, must I read Marquez, what have I done with
my life once so fresh so full of promise. . ..

And the man wants me to notice possible terrorists. Think outside the
box, as he suggests. So I should look out for normals, average types.
And then do what? Halt the train for a jumpy white guy in a windbreaker
and man-sandals?

George W. Bush's war on terror has increased terrorism throughout the
world, most recently in London. Had the man read a history book or a
good foreign newspaper - not on a subway, of course - it might all
have been avoided.

As for Tony Blair, who essentially echoed Mr. Bush and said, "Bring
it on," he hasn't been on the London subway since that time he
decided to chat casually with "working-class" voters. Bad idea. The
footage of him trying to strike up a conversation with a beautiful,
terrified young woman who, not recognizing him, thought she was being
stalked by a man with mad, staring eyes and snaggle teeth was one of
the funniest things ever seen on the BBC.

We don't need the American terrorism hard sell here. What we need is
stalwart U.S. Democrats shouting at their senators and congressmen to
find their spine. Instead, we've got a guy named Ty telling us to stop
reading.

I say pick up a book. The Quiet American, by Graham Greene, would be a
good start.

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