In school, we all learnt the phrase, "Beware the Ides of March" courtesy of Shakespeare's play, Julius Caesar. The
soothsayer's warning to Caesar was brushed aside and Caesar assassinated a little later in the day. For the last nearly
420 years since Shakespeare wrote the phrase, it has become a harbinger of impending doom.
Friday 15 March, the day of the Mosque shootings in Christchurch, marked the Ides of March for 2019. In many ways, it
was our equivalent of the 9/11 attacks in New York, so dramatic was its impact.
As events around 9/11 were unfolding, President George W Bush was visiting a school in Florida. Photographers have
recorded his being advised by aides whispering in his ear of what was happening, and all the while he had to sit
quietly, and stonefaced through a students' performance, gathering his thoughts, before his hurried departure. His
subsequent public addresses helped - indeed had to - quell the shock, grief, anger and horror of the American people,
while at the same time having to come to grips with what had happened, or might be about to yet happen, and working out
the national response. The photograph showing him addressing the people, megaphone in hand, from the rubble of the World
Trade Centre, quickly became a metaphoric and iconic symbol of defiance and determination.
Prime Minister Jacinda Adern would have faced similar circumstances and emotions as last Friday afternoon's tragedies
began to unfold. Like President Bush, she would have had limited time to process the information being received, and
deal with her own inevitable emotions and reactions, before being expected to address the nation, both to offer
information about what had happened; comfort to the distraught and bereaved, and reassurance to the country about the
national response. Her subsequent now iconic photograph at the Canterbury Refugee Resettlement and Resource Centre with
the Christchurch Muslim community was, like President Bush's all those years ago, a classic example of a picture being
being worth a thousand words.
The image of a pained Prime Minister wearing a hijab, like that of a President in windbreaker and speaking into a
megaphone, conveyed all the appropriate emotions - empathy, determination, resolution, and even the fear that both
leaders must have felt about the path their countries may now had begun to travel down. Above all, they were images of
their humanity, something we often forget about our political leaders. They too have feelings like the rest of us about
the evil, injustice or whatever of the events, but they also have the responsibility of laying those to one side, and
representing the nation as a whole, as they deal with what has happened.
Both President Bush and the Prime Minister gained the warm glow of popular support for their measured responses to the
appalling tragedies which, undoubtedly, coupled no doubt with massive bursts of adrenalin, helped sustain them during
the dark days. Sadly, as we know from the case of President Bush, mistakes and errors of judgement are likely to occur
as time passes, and the immediate wave of public sympathy wanes. That is not a politically loaded observation, nor a
judgement call. It is simply a statement of fact. They are both human beings, after all, and no human being is ever
perfect.
The essential point is that the Prime Minister, like President Bush before her, is genuinely trying to her best, as she
sees it, by the country in these unprecedented circumstances. Her efforts deserve the tolerance of our support, whatever
our political allegiances. Normal political hostilities will resume over time, but, for now, the situation is one that
should be above the partisan fray.
Many words have been spoken and written about the victims and their families since last Friday. No matter how eloquent,
how undoubtedly well-meant and sincere, or how compassionate, they are inadequate compensation for the lives so
needlessly lost, but they are the best human beings can do in such circumstances. May all of us in our daily lives stand
resolutely with those who have suffered and been so pained, and may we determine to never let hatred and intolerance
take firm hold in our land. Kia kaha.
ends