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A Teacher Reflects on his Complicity

The sad thing is

I could have justified my instruction

with the simplest of reasons.

I would not have asked

a harmful or a wicked task of him

and I could have explained that

with perfect clarity.

But in the instant that he asked 'Why?'

my patience failed

and I said, 'Because I told you to.'

 

The implied threat was sufficient

and the task was done, satisfactorily.

 

If I had only known

that I would become one in a long line

planting furrow after furrow of bitter seeds

in this young man's head,

each of which would grow

into the toxic blossom of blind obedience

I would have checked myself that day.

 

But I did not.

 

And any inquest worth its salt

would line me up beside him,

beside parents, teachers, priests,

drill sergeants, generals, presidents

 

A line of dominoes

aimed remorselessly

at a smiling young woman with a placard

in a park, in Istanbul.

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Written by
alan-mcclure
Scottish
Published
Jun 6, 2013
Lines·Words
28·155
Notes

This is my second attempt at a response to the brutal crushing of protests in Turkey. It's hard not to just roar and grieve, casting blame at this or that institution: but I try to remind myself that every officer who pulled a trigger is an individual who was set on that path by something, some set of circumstances in his past. We don't come to brutality by ourselves. This got me wondering about our shared complicity and what, if anything, starts this hideous journey off: the best I could come up with was the institutionalised tradition of 'following orders' and unquestioningly accepting authority. And I immediately saw my own role in that.

The notes are longer than the poem - that indicates a lack of success!

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