The Terrorists I Worry About

by John Pavlovitz

A friend and I recently had a disagreement.

She said to me with great sincerity, “I worry about terrorists.”

“I do too.” I said.

The disconnect, I soon realized was in our definition of the world.

As she expounded on her statement, it became clear to me that for her, terrorists meant what terrorists means to people who share her politics and worldview.

It meant brown skin and head wraps and Middle Eastern countries of origin.

It meant foreigners and immigrants and outsiders and “non-Americans.”

It meant the kind of cartoon Muslim boogeymen that FoxNews and Right Wing radio and the current President keep warning her are hiding under the bed and lurking around dark corners and overrunning the airports.

My friend is genuinely panic-stricken by an intentional distortion of reality. She is terrified about giant shadows cast on walls; sleight of hand illusions designed by clever story tellers holding flashlights in order to make tiny things looks massive and to generate fear in the hearts of their listeners.

She is convinced of tall tales and exaggerated ghost stories about a gathering foreign horde she’s certain has amassed and is now preparing to imminently devour us, to ravage our freedom, to destroy America. This is why she worries.

Those aren’t the terrorists I’m most afraid of right now. Such people are undoubtedly out there, but they’re not the ones that keep me up at night. They’re not the threat I worry most about.

Right now I worry about terrorists who use Twitter to bait other unhinged world leaders into using nuclear weapons; who taunt them by publicly playing chicken with the lives of hundreds of millions of people who have no voice or protection.

I worry about terrorists who are attacking the very agencies working tirelessly to protect us from national threat—whether those threats come from outside or from within, even the highest levels of our Government.

I worry about terrorists who incite conflict when they should deescalate it, whether racial or military or religious; those whose impulsivity and ego and recklessness always serve as propellants in combustible moments they’re supposed to be the prevailing cool head.  

I worry about terrorists who’ve spent the past 18 months relentlessly fighting to take away the opportunity for life-giving care for tens of millions of the very Americans they’re charged with caring for—the terminally ill, the poor, the most vulnerable.

I worry about terrorists who insult all our allies while playing footsie with dictators; who will give less face time to leaders across the aisle, American troops on the ground, and members of our Press—than malevolent rulers who interfered with an election.

I worry about terrorists who intentionally fill Cabinet positions with people openly hostile to the very systems designed to steward the environment and education and justice and international diplomacy.

I worry about terrorists who coddle nazis and white supremacists, and play footsie with the NRA and cozy up to Conservative Christian zealots; who willingly and joyfully partner with those who see skin color and sexual orientation and nation of origin as moral defects, as viruses needing to be eradicated.

I worry about terrorists who continually manufacture fake wars: on Christmas, on Christians, on Anthems, on the Military, on police, on children in public bathrooms, on borders, on marriage—those who continually ratchet up war rhetoric, those who are forever in a battle posture because they know that people who feel under attack are so very easy to manipulate with false bravado and empty tough guy talk.

I worry about terrorists who wield corrupt legislation like dirty bombs hidden under the cover of night in the places where they will do the most damage to the most people; the young, the elderly, the already marginalized, those seeking refuge.

These are the terrorists that most threaten the safety of my children, the integrity of our Constitution, the stability of our nation. They are the daily makers of real nightmares, and they are far more productive and prolific in the damage they do than any dark-skinned boogeymen could ever dream of being.

They are the terrorists generating the greatest violence, manufacturing the most fear, creating the most chaos—because that is what successful terrorists do.

I feel sorry for my friend because she is blind to it all. Her fear is real but it is tragically misplaced.

She can’t see any of this because she truly believes the story she’s been told over and over again by her talk show hosts and her pastors and her country club table mates: the one of God-fearing, white American patriots, assailed by the bad guys with brown skin and strange last names and head wraps—and of the God-fearing, white American patriots who will surely save and deliver them.

She can’t see that they’re the one yielding the flashlights.

They’re the ones telling her the tall tales.

They’re the ones filling her with fear.

They’re the ones truly terrorizing her.

They’re the ones she should most fear.

My friend and I are both worried about terrorists.

I just know how close they really are.