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People struggle to cross the boundary wall of Hamid Karzai International Airport to flee the country after rumors that foreign countries are evacuating people even without visas, after the Taliban over run of Kabul, Afghanistan, 16 August 2021. (Photo: STR/NurPhoto via Getty Images)
As my husband and I ate dinner Sunday evening and reflected (as we do each night) about what we are grateful for, I was simultaneously aware of our abundance of unearned good fortune and sick to my stomach thinking about the people-- especially the girls and women--in Afghanistan. I can only imagine their terror and despair, and imagining leaves me overwhelmed.
Let's not forget what matters now. Afghans are experiencing terror.
Like so many people following the news of the Taliban's takeover of Afghanistan, I feel a range of emotions: anger, sadness, frustration, hopelessness, and confusion. Also like many people, I'm full of righteous indignation and blame, but I'm trying to hold these feelings in check. They are the easiest emotions to latch onto; the ones that roil us up and lead us to vent rather than cry; the feelings that prop up our political identities, whatever they may be. These emotions feel strangely good because they are energizing and eclipse despair. But that doesn't make these feelings worth indulging. In fact, indulging them is dangerous. Such emotions promote polarization and discourage solutionary thinking. They are both self-serving and in-group-serving. They add to, rather than dissipate, conflict. And they prevent us from actually doing good.
It would not be surprising if you are finding yourself choosing a political side in this terrible tragedy. Our culture consistently manipulates and pressures us into either/or thinking, often deflecting our attention away from what actually matters. Our two-party system, approach to legislation, debate teams, and media all conspire to promote side-taking, limit complexity, and erase nuance. And should you find yourself expressing nuance, your in-group might lash out, which means that you may fear being shunned (or "canceled" in today's parlance) and keep your potentially unwelcome thoughts to yourself. Your silence then feeds the either/or culture, where the loudest voices are the ones yelling at each other, and the actual help we could provide fades from awareness or focus in the shouting match.
This is a trap, and it's insidious. Here are ways to climb out:
Let's not forget what matters now. Afghans are experiencing terror. Those who worked alongside the U.S. are facing deadly retribution. Women and girls face the prospect of subjugation and oppression once again. We can each take steps to learn how to help instead of arguing or fomenting our own rage.
Despite the horror unfolding in Afghanistan; despite the tragedy of our 20-year war that so utterly failed; despite the loss of life and treasure and the agony of families who endured such loss for naught, a more just and peaceful future is still possible. Keep this vision and goal in mind not only for yourself, but also to honor those who have suffered or died, seemingly in vain, and to ensure that real answers emerge that will help future generations.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
As my husband and I ate dinner Sunday evening and reflected (as we do each night) about what we are grateful for, I was simultaneously aware of our abundance of unearned good fortune and sick to my stomach thinking about the people-- especially the girls and women--in Afghanistan. I can only imagine their terror and despair, and imagining leaves me overwhelmed.
Let's not forget what matters now. Afghans are experiencing terror.
Like so many people following the news of the Taliban's takeover of Afghanistan, I feel a range of emotions: anger, sadness, frustration, hopelessness, and confusion. Also like many people, I'm full of righteous indignation and blame, but I'm trying to hold these feelings in check. They are the easiest emotions to latch onto; the ones that roil us up and lead us to vent rather than cry; the feelings that prop up our political identities, whatever they may be. These emotions feel strangely good because they are energizing and eclipse despair. But that doesn't make these feelings worth indulging. In fact, indulging them is dangerous. Such emotions promote polarization and discourage solutionary thinking. They are both self-serving and in-group-serving. They add to, rather than dissipate, conflict. And they prevent us from actually doing good.
It would not be surprising if you are finding yourself choosing a political side in this terrible tragedy. Our culture consistently manipulates and pressures us into either/or thinking, often deflecting our attention away from what actually matters. Our two-party system, approach to legislation, debate teams, and media all conspire to promote side-taking, limit complexity, and erase nuance. And should you find yourself expressing nuance, your in-group might lash out, which means that you may fear being shunned (or "canceled" in today's parlance) and keep your potentially unwelcome thoughts to yourself. Your silence then feeds the either/or culture, where the loudest voices are the ones yelling at each other, and the actual help we could provide fades from awareness or focus in the shouting match.
This is a trap, and it's insidious. Here are ways to climb out:
Let's not forget what matters now. Afghans are experiencing terror. Those who worked alongside the U.S. are facing deadly retribution. Women and girls face the prospect of subjugation and oppression once again. We can each take steps to learn how to help instead of arguing or fomenting our own rage.
Despite the horror unfolding in Afghanistan; despite the tragedy of our 20-year war that so utterly failed; despite the loss of life and treasure and the agony of families who endured such loss for naught, a more just and peaceful future is still possible. Keep this vision and goal in mind not only for yourself, but also to honor those who have suffered or died, seemingly in vain, and to ensure that real answers emerge that will help future generations.
As my husband and I ate dinner Sunday evening and reflected (as we do each night) about what we are grateful for, I was simultaneously aware of our abundance of unearned good fortune and sick to my stomach thinking about the people-- especially the girls and women--in Afghanistan. I can only imagine their terror and despair, and imagining leaves me overwhelmed.
Let's not forget what matters now. Afghans are experiencing terror.
Like so many people following the news of the Taliban's takeover of Afghanistan, I feel a range of emotions: anger, sadness, frustration, hopelessness, and confusion. Also like many people, I'm full of righteous indignation and blame, but I'm trying to hold these feelings in check. They are the easiest emotions to latch onto; the ones that roil us up and lead us to vent rather than cry; the feelings that prop up our political identities, whatever they may be. These emotions feel strangely good because they are energizing and eclipse despair. But that doesn't make these feelings worth indulging. In fact, indulging them is dangerous. Such emotions promote polarization and discourage solutionary thinking. They are both self-serving and in-group-serving. They add to, rather than dissipate, conflict. And they prevent us from actually doing good.
It would not be surprising if you are finding yourself choosing a political side in this terrible tragedy. Our culture consistently manipulates and pressures us into either/or thinking, often deflecting our attention away from what actually matters. Our two-party system, approach to legislation, debate teams, and media all conspire to promote side-taking, limit complexity, and erase nuance. And should you find yourself expressing nuance, your in-group might lash out, which means that you may fear being shunned (or "canceled" in today's parlance) and keep your potentially unwelcome thoughts to yourself. Your silence then feeds the either/or culture, where the loudest voices are the ones yelling at each other, and the actual help we could provide fades from awareness or focus in the shouting match.
This is a trap, and it's insidious. Here are ways to climb out:
Let's not forget what matters now. Afghans are experiencing terror. Those who worked alongside the U.S. are facing deadly retribution. Women and girls face the prospect of subjugation and oppression once again. We can each take steps to learn how to help instead of arguing or fomenting our own rage.
Despite the horror unfolding in Afghanistan; despite the tragedy of our 20-year war that so utterly failed; despite the loss of life and treasure and the agony of families who endured such loss for naught, a more just and peaceful future is still possible. Keep this vision and goal in mind not only for yourself, but also to honor those who have suffered or died, seemingly in vain, and to ensure that real answers emerge that will help future generations.