Lone Wolf

So what makes them do it? What makes an ordinary, quiet, seemingly normal teenager fire an automatic at his school friends and teachers? What makes a man drive his car into innocent pedestrians on a sidewalk? What justification is there for these lone wolf attacks?

Wolves are pack animals, just as humans are by nature socialised beings. Lone wolves on the other hand, prefer their own company. They live and hunt on their own. They are outcasts by temperament, by circumstance and sometimes of their own volition.

Nearly always after another chilling attack, emerge the clues that led to it. A social misfit, a dysfunctional background, a lack of love, a propensity for violence, vulnerability to ideological brainwashing. Taken alone, each of these qualities may perhaps lead a person to a solitary existence, a criminal career or even a mental institution. Together, however, they become so much more dangerous.

Can we, as responsible citizens; parents, neighbours, co workers, pick up on any of these clues, and report them to the relevant authorities? Do we, as a society, have a duty towards these social outcasts? Is it possible in any way to intervene and diffuse a potentially fatal situation from developing?

These are amongst the many questions that lie at the heart of the modern dilemma of home grown attackers. Are killers born or made? Are terrorists just victims of circumstance and conditioning?

Reflection and responsibility. Two things that might lead us to answers. Uncomfortable truths of the part we play in marginalising these peripheral pariahs, whose only moments of recognition and glory lie in death, terror and destruction.

Then, and only then, will we vanquish this multi headed Hydra.


Just a thought…

This is a short one with a simple query. Why are women, women’s own worst enemies?

I have seen the sort of networking that carries on between men. The old boys club exists the world over. Undoubtedly, men can be competitive, jealous and eager to get ahead at any cost too. But very rarely does one see the kind of pettiness that women can exhibit towards their own kind.

This strange one-upmanship from houses to spouses, from careers to children, from figures to four wheels, is a disturbing phenomena. Why can’t we, as women, be supportive and nurturing towards one another? Why do we have to put another down to feel good about oneself?

Isn’t life, the world, and the other sex hard enough on us, without us compounding the problem?