When I was a kid, Mario Rocha, Mark Stratton and I were inseparable buddies. We did everything together. The fourth Musketeer was Mark’s German shepherd, Scout, who usually accompanied us on our rambles and adventures. Scout was our pal, and he ran with us like we were a genuine pack and he was the junior member-in-training. I do believe that dog loved all of us.

One day Mark and Mario got into a tussle. It wasn’t a real fight, more like a good-natured roughhousing , there was no anger or real violence involved, they just rolled around in the grass, throwing mock punches, feigning terrible injuries and making theatrical noises that simulated a clash of the titans.

But Scout was very disturbed by the whole charade. He didn’t know what was going on, he felt the violence was real, it really upset him, and he felt compelled to do something about it. I was standing quietly a few feet away and watched him become increasingly agitated and desperate. He started barking, then growling, and alternated looking between my friends rolling on the ground, and at me. He didn’t know what to do, but he felt the need to do something; his master was in danger, and his friend was the cause of it. It was sad to watch that proud beast being torn apart by indecision and confusion.

Suddenly Scout attacked me. He gripped my arm and bit hard. It hurt, but he didn’t break the skin, (obviously pulling his punches, the big dog could have ripped my arm off if he really wanted to) but I yelped in pain, and my friends immediately broke off and ran over to rescue me. I was not hurt, just scared shitless.

Scout felt the need to do something, anything, and I was just handy. There was this conflict from the need to do something and the frustration of not being able to do anything. The animal had a laudable emotional compulsion, but not the intellectual comprehension to deal with it realistically. We remained friends, but I was always leery of the beast after that.

But a dog is a dog, you can’t blame him for his actions. Like Moby Dick, he is a dumb brute acting according to his nature, and to condemn him for that approaches blasphemy, as Starbuck once reminded Ahab.

Fifteen years ago, a group of religious fanatics flew airliners into our office buildings, killing thousands of innocent people for no other reason than to punish my country for its alleged role in history’s insults to theirs. And all of it was justified
and facilitated by their ridiculous interpretation and slavish adherence to their medieval superstitions and absurd tribal hatreds.

I have long since forgiven Scout. He was just a dog, he didn’t know any better. But these murderers did know, they were thinking human beings and I refuse to forgive them. I despise them, not for their religion, race or nationality, but for using religion, race and nationality as an excuse to massacre innocents. Their crime was not meant to deter, disable, or destroy an enemy, but to humiliate and torture unsuspecting strangers. People die in war, usually innocent people. They die by accident, or as “collateral damage” or even because they are believed to be an asset to the enemy. But the victims of 9/11 died so that their dignity could be taken away from them, and from their loved ones. It was not an act of war, it was an act of revenge and spite. They have chosen to inflict pain for no other reason than to inflict pain.

We must never allow people like this to prosper. Those who helped them do this must be punished, as must be those who sheltered them, or those who wish to continue their work. Not because they are Muslim, or Arab, (most of Jihadism’s victims have been Muslim or Arab), but because they are thinking human beings who actually believe they have a god-given right to destroy the lives and dignity of people they have never met simply because of who they are, not because of what they’ve done or might do.

That is truly unforgivable. Not even a dog would do that.