Bravery for bravery’s sake not worth risking loved ones

After the events of September 11, 2001, I was ready to ride airplanes. I wasn’t afraid to… After the events of September 11, 2001, I was ready to ride airplanes. I wasn’t afraid to visit large cities. I wasn’t going to let terrorists downgrade my country’s national monuments into nothing more than potential targets. I strongly believed that changing our everyday routines would display futility and defeat.

Now, I’m not so sure.

My sister Ruth decided to take a year off before entering graduate school, partaking in a community service program based in Israel. Everybody was excited for her — family members, friends, a local newspaper — and jealous of this wonderful experience she was about to have. After 10 months in the Land of Milk and Honey, the most religiously influential place in the world, and most importantly, all the nice Jewish boys that she could handle, we all agreed that this was the perfect place for her to be.

Sunday afternoon I was sitting out on my porch when I got a call from my mother. Had I heard about the attempted suicide bombing in the town of Bersheba, where Ruth was living for the first three months of her trip? Luckily the bomber was prevented from entering the bus, and only managed to wound two security officers. At the time, my sister was driving to Bersheba from Jerusalem.

I frantically asked the only two questions on my mind: When can she come home? What is she doing now? I was shocked by the levity of my mom’s answer: In ten months — I think she’s out buying groceries.

I don’t want her out on the streets. I don’t want her going shopping, eating at a restaurant or dancing at a club. I don’t want her in Israel at all. I want her to come home immediately and lock herself in her room in our safe neighborhood in Connecticut. Forget pride, duty and showing them who is boss — she’s gone for a week and was already just miles away from some psycho wearing a backpack full of explosives.

It’s easy to speak loudly and carry a big stick when the potential victims are nameless bodies. Previously I had wanted to ignore the threats, but that was before my only sibling was living in the line of fire. It took this situation to put things in perspective for me. All of a sudden I don’t want people working in the Freedom Tower proposed to be built on Ground Zero. I’m afraid for the people fighting on the front lines in Iraq. I don’t want anyone riding buses in London. It’s easy to say that we should stand our ground when we aren’t the people over there. That unidentified victim, that recorded number, that reported casualty — each is somebody’s relative or friend.

Now, I understand that this incident might be too recent in my memory for me to be making reasonable judgments on foreign policy, and that I might be writing solely out of emotion and shock. I also understand the importance of the state of Israel to the Jewish people, as a refuge for the oppressed and as a symbol of hope. I do care about the future of my people, which is why I am writing this column. To me, the people inside are more important than the land they are standing on. Israel is a beautiful and magical place — I’ve been there twice — but having the land without people seems like it defeats the purpose.

I admit that I don’t have an answer to this problem. I don’t even know if an answer exists. Maybe treaties or bigger walls or more soldiers securing the borders, I don’t know. What I do know is that right now it’s very hard for me to tell my sister that I’m happy that she’s over there.

No moral victory is worth the loss of human life. Acting cautiously is not the same as displaying weakness. To me, intentional naivete is not any more respectable than insuring the safety of somebody’s sister, father or friend. The truth is that we live in a dangerous time, with dangerous people, in a dangerous world where human lives are sacrificed to make political statements. We can’t ignore these problems just because we want to show some bully that we can puff out our chests as far as he can. Life is not a reasonable sacrifice, but routine and pride are. I’ll be fine with claiming defeat and inflating their terrorist egos, as long Ruthie comes home safely.

So, while she’s sightseeing and helping the less fortunate, I’m stuck here shaking in my bed and refreshing CNN’s home page, dreading the possibility of a certain headline popping up, of a day when she may not be so lucky.

To me, it’s not worth it.

Sam’s not such a bad guy, once you get to know him. E-mail him at seg23@pitt.edu.