Amman Bombings

 

The week before the bombings, I was in Jordan for the Amman Message in Action Conference.  The event was hosted by the Jordanian Interfaith Coexistence Research Center and patronized by King Abdullah II. A Jordanian Catholic priest that I’m friends with pulled it all together. The conference was held on the first anniversary of the publication of the Amman Message, a royal declaration of support for interfaith coexistence, learning, and living. To have been put forth by a Muslim king in a Muslim nation made it a very powerful message from the beginning. The full implications of the message are still unknown as they are still in the process of being played out. We discussed this ongoing process during the conference.

 

The success of the conference was in the connections that people made from being brought together as a group of like-minded peace seekers who appreciate the brave and noble effort of King Abdullah II last year. Many of us made very solid contacts that I very much hope will yield substantive results. I made plans with the President of an influential women’s center in Amman to create a program for young women in Jordan to connect with young women from the US to create both friendships and mentoring relationships. I certainly hope this dream plays out.

 

The let-down of the conference was foreshadowed to me by an advisor to Prince Hassan during the opening ceremony. Somewhere between the opening benediction and Jordanian National Anthem he leaned over to me during a brief moment of silence and whispered: “Do you really think this will make any difference or change anything?” I was stunned. Part of me had to believe that the conference, dialogue, and calm meetings of leaders will eventually have the trickle-down effect of making peace. Part of me has to believe this because this is the road that my life has taken; this is my choice, my career decision, my commitment to work for peace using these avenues.

 

At the same time, there was something very unnerving about a seasoned career diplomat asking me the same question that I have many times been scared to ask myself – or at least scared to answer. Sometimes it feels so empty. The meetings, the talking heads, scholars, preaching to the choir, and converting the converted. To have attended the conference in the first place implies that attendees retain some level of open-mindedness and willingness to work toward peaceful coexistence. Self-selection among attendees of such events provides a starting point for making that next step toward tangible change.  But what happens if that step isn’t taken?

 

In the case of the Amman Message in Action Conference, I am sad to say that the next step was, in fact, sidestepped. The conference yielded a joint statement of participants. This statement could have planned for further efforts, could have called on others to adopt a commitment to peace, could have at least decided to hold a follow-up meeting. Sadly, we took none of these actions. Our joint statement was as toothless as a newborn baby, and just as revolutionary. I am having a difficult time coming to grips with the role of dialogue and academia, as well as my own personal role, in the struggle for peace.

 

The gravest danger is that peace-makers will not be the ones to take the next step; that those who hate peace that take the next step. This danger was painfully realized in Amman the week following our conference. The atrocious bombings do not represent merely a failure of security. Nor do they represent a failure of vision. What happened was a failure of action. 

 

To challenge violence effectively, we must advance an activist agenda on the side of peace. Without positive action we intensify the drive of those with violent agendas.   We cannot wait to react to violence. We must act first. We must visibly fuse the top-down agenda of the government with the grassroots efforts of the people. Anti-terror demonstrations in Amman this past Friday exemplify this call for solidarity. 

 

We now face the painful reality that as the silent majority maintains its silence and as good people fail to act, we surrender our safety and our peace to those who want something different.