The sight of Amrozi bin Nurhasyim, the ”smiling bomber” of Bali, raising his arms in triumph as his death sentence was announced was profoundly disturbing. Through- out his trial, Amrozi betrayed no glimmer of remorse for the appalling crime he had helped execute.
His claim to be seeking vengeance against the United States, the West and ”the Jews” might be dismissed as delusional, but for the uncomfortable fact that many Muslim extremists have a similar aim.
Amrozi’s belief that somehow he served Islam by killing 202 defenceless people of all creeds and colours could be ignored as the ravings of a sick mind. Except that Amrozi was deemed mentally competent by the court, and on August 5 like-minded Islamists came close to repeating the Bali horror with a car bomb in Jakarta.
”Islam never teaches violence,” the judges told Amrozi. ”You never have the right to slaughter other people.”
Islamic leaders in Indonesia and beyond should ask why many supposed devotees disagree. They should inform Amrozi and his confederates that no martyr’s laurels await them, that there is no honour in Islam for unrepentant killers.
Amrozi’s evident lack of fellow-feeling for the relatives and friends of those whose lives he stole was perhaps most shocking of all.
This is not a political or doctrinal issue. It goes to the heart of our shared existence, to the common humanity that links us all and which no cause or faith or grievance, however fervently espoused, should diminish or obscure.
This deficit of feeling, this fundamental absence of sympathy is chilling. It is a true glimpse of the abyss.
Amrozi’s callousness undoubtedly spurred the anger of the bereaved, leading some to say vengefully that a firing squad would be too quick, that he should suffer a slow and painful death.
But others, including some of the British relatives, did not allow his lack of humanity to rob them of their own. They hoped his death sentence would be commuted, that he would be denied the symbolic importance he craves, and that, by being made to live, he might eventually learn.
Their forbearance does them credit.
From Liberia, Iraq and New York to Palestine, Rwanda and The Hague, the quest for justice is universal, unending and deeply imperfect.
Often, there is just no justice at all. But violent acts of vengeance by individuals, by groups — or by states — provide no remedy. They are the executioners of hope. — Â