A few days ago, on May the 4th (Star Wars day!), President Donald Trump delivered a speech in front of the National Rifle Association. He reaffirmed his support to their lobby – something we are quite used to, coming from him. What was different this time, however, was the way he also advised other countries, including mine, to renounce to their tough legislations against civil gun ownership.
Being Donald Trump, he decided to carry his message the right way – ‘right’, as in ‘efficient’, as in ‘shocking’, as in ‘most likely to upset a whole country, with a terrifying lack of respect and sympathy’. To tell France that it should allow civil gun ownership, Mr. Trump decided to talk about the terrorist attacks of November 13th 2015, that killed 130 people, and harmed more than 400, in Paris.
These attacks left the French population open-wounded. I’ll never forget this day. When I got up on November 14th, after oversleeping a bit, happy and safe in my bed, my parents told me that ‘There has been an attack’. I was expecting the worst, I read even worse than that. And throughout the whole day, I could do nothing else than exchange messages with friends – ‘Did you see what happened?’ ‘Yeah’ ‘Did you know anyone?’ – and that was all because we had no words. I was re-actualizing my actualities every two minutes, blenching every time there would be news. The count of the deaths seemed to never stop – it rose to 130 killed by half-a-dozen terrorists. Those were the most deadly attacks that ever targeted France – and what I feel is even worse, it that they attacked my country in the locations that make French people the proudest to be French, concert rooms, restaurants, little Parisian Cafés that are the strongest evidence of France’s sweetness of life, in which they introduced death.
On the Monday that followed that terrible weekend, I went back to my high school. Teachers were remaining silent. When it came to the official minute of silence – after we did many others the morning before, because no one felt like talking – people started crying. No one in my class knew any direct victim of this, nor did they know anyone who would have known a victim, but victims we all were, breathless at the thought of such an act of ideological cruelty. On that day, my Father came to me to tell me that we were at war and that he wanted to join the Army reserve. I do not know what shook we the most – to actually be ‘at war’ for the first time of my life, me, born as one of the first generations that never knew any war, either a World one, the Algerian one, the Cold one! Or that even though we were, bakeries were still opening at dawn with their buttery croissants, we could still see couples French-kissing in the streets, students were still having French fries between two classes and life, was more alive than it ever was before, even though we were, all, radically different inside.
And on May the 4th 2018, two years and 172 days after that, I heard the President of the US mimicking the terrorists that entered the Bataclan on this deadly night – Boom! Come over here! Boom!. When I heard this, I felt tears starting to sting my eyes, much more from anger than from sadness. How? How could he dare? And how could he continue, under the thunder of applause, to say that ‘if one employee had a gun, if one person in this room had been there with a gun, the terrorists would have fled or been shot’?
I know. I stopped breathing, too.
Dear Mr. Trump,
Let’s first assume that we could go back in time. Let’s assume that before November 13th, 2015, guns’ civil ownership has been authorized in France. Let’s assume that during this concert at the Bataclan, a person of good will actually had a gun – or maybe more than one. Let’s assume that the attack actually happened the way you described it, as if you were there. I have one question.
Would this person, would this civil gun owner, unsheathe his or her gun, and shoot? And if ever he or she did, would this be of any help? Would this person shoot, with the omnipresent fear of hurting an innocent in the chaos? Would this person shoot, most probably terrorized by this situation we are not trained to react to, would his arm stop shivering, and would the terrorists, dehumanized enough to commit such a crime that goes beyond words, ‘either flee or be shot’?
A few days after the attacks, I attended my weekly class of kravmaga. This martial art, developed by the Israeli army, is believed to be one of the most efficient in the world. On that evening, we spent two hours learning what to do with my instructor that used to teach soldiers and secret services. We tumbled on the floor, we rolled away, we learned how to make a gun pointed on our head deviate enough for us to fight back. And eventually, our teacher shot in the air with a fake gun loaded blank. Luckily enough, that’s the only gun I ever heard in my life – but as everyone in the room, I stood petrified for a second, because this noise is loud and mind-blowing enough for people to be muffled in a safe kravmaga gym – so what about a concert room, invaded by terrorists?
So would this person react? Would she shoot and would she reach her target? Or would she remain petrified as well, which is the reaction that most of us would probably have, that I would probably have, that you would most probably have?
But let’s assume, again, that this happened for once. That this hero saved the situation.
For one person that did so, and maybe prevented deaths by this action, how many other people would have died due to civil gun ownership? In France, 35 people died as a result of guns in 2011 and the very same year, they were 9,145 in the US. According to the Brady Campaign, there are 100,000 victims of gun violence every year in your country and since the beginning of 2018, there has been more than 1 shooting in a school every week.
Talking about this Brady Campaign, one sentence on their website particularly caught my attention: ‘our movie theaters, places of worship, schools, streets, and homes are not safe’. That is how French people felt, after terrorists attacked our nation and our people in a concert room, in a supermarket, in a school, in a newspaper’s building. What generalizing civil guns’ ownership would lead to, would be nothing else than fear, this fear that we already felt towards ISIS and that we would, here, feel towards our own peers.
Fear is part of our daily lives already. I fear, as a girl, when I need to walk back home alone by night – and this, despite years of experience in diverse martial arts that already make me safer than many other girls my age. But I don’t think that guns would provide better protection for me, just because, assuming that I knew how to use it and would indeed use it, I don’t think shooting people up is the solution. And, assuming I had access to a gun, I would be more than willing to renounce it, so all these other people in France, who would use it to kill and to harm, would not be able to access one either.
A few months ago, on March the 23rd 2018, a one person saved a life during a terrorist attack. Arnaud Beltrame was a gendarme who took the place of a hostage and died the day after from his injuries. And, you know what? He had a gun. All his colleagues did. They did not shoot at first, both because of the hostages – of the innocent civilians in the Bataclan this night – and because of the rules of self-defense, I reckon. It also made me think about this young Afghan teenager, Aitzaz Hassan, who on January 6th, 2014, made himself explode with a terrorist to prevent him from destroying a school and killing those inside. A bullet from a gun is not necessary to save a life, and allowing civil gun ownership in France would contribute to wreck our country’s peace and sweetness almost as surely as the actions of terrorists could have.
Could have, because they did not. They did not, because our people continued to fight, but differently. We decided to fight by educating, by denouncing those who would make amalgams, we decided to fight by living and making it a political mobilization against those who wanted to tear us apart. And before anything else, we fought by respecting and remembering the memories of our victims – instead of mimicking their last moments at the tribune of a congress on the guns that costed them their lives.
// Credits // bfmtv