I forgive you: Why victims’ empathy was kryptonite to the Christchurch killer – Sydney Morning Herald

The next few months (years?) will be a contest between my pretensions towards intellectual seriousness and my attention span, which is frayed by the usual modern things smartphone use and the existential dread of the pandemo-recession.

I picked it up because I was drawn to the themes of Dostoyevskys tome guilt, morality, alienation from society, and the question of madness and to what extent it exculpates a person.

New Zealanders outside the court show their support to the families of the dead and to survivors. Credit:Getty Images

And then I spent a week listening through snatches on radio and television, and half-glimpsed things on the scroll of the internet to the victim impact statements of the New Zealanders who were injured, and those who lost loved ones, in the Christchurch massacre.

I put Dostoyevsky down.

Some of the victims fired with anger. Mustafa Boztas, who was injured in the attack, told the terrorist he was "just an insignificant killer who's lonely, scared and left alone to suffer all eternity.

Ahad Nabi, whose father Haji Mohammed Daoud Nabi was shot at the Al Noor mosque, told the terrorist he was weak. He called him a sheep with a wolfs jacket on.

I am strong and you have made me stronger, Nabi said.

Others wanted the killer to know that his creed was a failure, and that his act had served only to bolster the ideals of Kiwi society he so hated its diversity, unity, peace and tolerance.

Zahid Ismail, who lost his twin brother, Junaid Ismail, in the attack, said his family would look after his brothers children, who will become confident, proud Kiwis who will live in the same place their daddy lived.

Junaids sister Raesha Ismael said the massacre had made her stronger internally.

Illustration: Reg LynchCredit:

After the events I dont feel I have to hide my faith at work anymore, she said.

Other victims elevated the grace of the faith the terrorist hated. Janna Ezat, who survived the shooting but lost her son, said to the killer: "In our Muslim faith, we say, if we are able to forgive, forgive. I forgive you."

Angela Armstrong, daughter of Laura Armstrong, who was killed inside the Linwood Islamic Centre, said the crime had led her to a greater understanding of the faith to which her mother converted. Previously she had listened to the medias narrative about Islam, rather than my own mum ... Mum tried to tell me about the goodness at the heart of Islam.

The more I listened, the more it seemed to me this public grief, this testimony of damage, was the grace-filled antithesis of everything the terrorist stood for.

The Christchurch terrorist was always going to get the maximum sentence. So why did all these people feel compelled to speak about the unspeakable damage he had inflicted on them?

Victim impact statements can be tendered privately to a judge, but these were spoken in open court, as a public act that was profoundly social, a counter to the anti-social nihilism of the killer.

It is inherent to our humanity that we have our hurt acknowledged. We see over and over how healing that acknowledgment can be in reparation for crimes and other wrongs.

The statements also inspired empathy, which is probably the best revenge you can get on a murderous white supremacist who wants Westerners to see Muslim people as sub-human.

Julia Quilter, associate professor of law with the University of Wollongong, says victim impact statements have two primary functions. First, they inform the sentencing court about the harm caused by the crime, in order to influence punishment via sentencing.

"The other important factor is an expressive function," Quilter says, "to allow victims to move beyond being a witness and allow a therapeutic process, tied to the idea of therapeutic justice."

The terrorists aspiration for a white-pure West is the mirror of Islamic State's utopia of a caliphate. He is the same as what he hates. He expressed belated remorse for his crimes but the judge rejected it as insincere.

Dostoyevskys great novel is a literary depiction of guilt. What guilt should Australia feel? The Grafton-raised terrorist was radicalised online but he was made in Australia. He was stunted by online gaming culture and the rankest corners of the white supremacist internet.

The ideas if you can elevate them to that from those corners are no longer marginal. In the mainstream politics of Trump, folk who espouse those views are very fine people.

In Australia, the Christchurch terrorist had been an avid follower of the United Patriots Front. And the anti-Islamic sentiment from some of our political leaders looks extremely ill-advised in retrospect.

What can we do to honour the Christchurch dead, and pay tribute to the unspeakable pain of the living? Patrol the borders of our public debate with unstinting vigilance. Harden our stance to the creep of extremism. Demand policy that forces online giants such as Facebook to account for the hatred to which they give a platform. Listen to victims.

Ill keep this column updated on Dostoyevsky. Maybe now is, actually, the best time of all to be reading it.

Twitter: @JacquelineMaley

Jacqueline Maley is a senior journalist, columnist and former Canberra press gallery sketch writer for The Sydney Morning Herald. In 2017 she won the Peter Ruehl Award for Outstanding Columnist at the Kennedy Awards