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Extremists

November, 1998

 

            It can seem that extreme views aren’t so much points on a line as on a circle: Once they pass the middle, they get closer as they move.

            The stories happened within a few days of each other, though if anyone compared them I didn’t notice.  First a group calling itself the “Earth Liberation Front” lit arson fires that caused over $12 million in damage to a ski resort in Vail, Colorado.  Less than a week later, Dr. Barnett Slepian, an abortionist practicing in Buffalo, New York, was slain in his home by sniper-fire.  As this is written, no arrests have been made in either case.

            While such incidents aren’t common in the grand scheme of things, they are also not as rare as one would like.  There have been several well-publicized attacks on abortion clinics and practitioners in recent years, some fatal.  The reports I read on the Colorado arson indicate that some “eco-terrorist” factions have tired of targets like logging and land development and are turning their attention to tourism.  Timber industry employees have been killed in the past, and I have little doubt that tourists will one day join them on the bulls-eye.

            A noble cause can be a matter of opinion, as are the boundaries of the cause itself.  There are those in the pro-choice camp who are sickened by late-term abortions, pro-life advocates who would allow the procedure after incest or rape, environmentalists who support responsible logging, and others who wouldn’t make lumber if the tree died of old age.  Whichever side you take, these are matters of debate for most Americans, a people who often seem to love nothing better.

            But for a small few, debate and legal remedies aren’t enough.  What drives them?  I don’t think it’s right and wrong; their evil methods betray them.  It might be a consumptive desire for “valor,” a need to be pure at any cost, but it’s a purity few of us would recognize.

            I’d have blamed zealotry once, but some of history’s greatest figures have burned with single-minded purpose that left room for little else.  Mother Teresa and Mahatma Gandhi come to mind, but many unknowns spend lives of peaceful dedication to a cause or movement, never yielding or tiring, yet never posing a physical threat.

            So perhaps there is no universal root, but if there is I’m betting on pride.  Not the glow one feels from accomplishment, or even the more obnoxious variety that deludes some of their infallibility.  No, I think of pride twisted into hateful conceit, transcending right, wrong, good, evil, purpose, or conscience.  A pride that knows no victory but victory.

            How else does one explain murder in the name of life?  Society can debate for eternity whether abortion is killing, and probably will.  I hold that belief myself and know it offends some, just as the idea that it isn’t offends others.  But if that is what one thinks, how could they rationally perpetrate a crime like the slaying of Dr. Slepian?

            The simple answer is the right one: they couldn’t.  Rationality has no more to do with it than abortion.  It’s a self-obsessed determination to impose the will, the means be hanged.  The ends too, for that matter.

            In Vail the arsonists’ stated goal was to protect the habitat of the lynx.  How habitat is protected by burning a piece of it is an open question, as is whether an area where the animals haven’t been seen for over 20 years is a lynx habitat at all.  But as in the Slepian case, logic is not the point.

            The usual ethical gnats have played these tragedies for political advantage, using the opportunity to paint those with peacefully opposing views as lunatics.  That’s arguably a lesser arrogance than that of the arsonists and sniper, but an irony just the same.

            I had hoped to end with a succinct, pithy comment, tying it all up in a neat little bundle.  I can’t.  Until someone does, I pray that the legitimate dissent our founders envisioned won’t be profaned by those moved only by their own vicious egos.

 

 

© 1997 – 2002 Brent Morrison

 

 

 

 
 

 

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