Germany, the land of poets, thinkers, and terrifyingly efficient bureaucracy, has once again proven that it can do tragedy with the same meticulous precision it applies to recycling. Six mothers and children, presumably in the middle of discussing the philosophical merits of Kant versus Nietzsche over organic lentil soup, were abruptly introduced to the concept of their own mortality by a gunman who clearly didn't get the memo that this was a 'safe space.'
Let us, for a moment, savour the sheer absurdity of the phrase 'centre for mothers and children.' It conjures images of pastel-coloured walls, finger-painting sessions, and the gentle hum of a breastfeeding support group. Instead, we have a scene that would make Hieronymus Bosch say, 'Blimey, that's a bit much.' The attacker, a man whose name will be forgotten faster than the last avocado toast fad, decided that the best way to make a statement was to turn a sanctuary into a slaughterhouse.
Now, the usual suspects will be wheeled out. Politicians will don their most sombre ties and express 'shock' and 'sadness' as if they've just discovered that their favourite brand of sauerkraut has been discontinued. They will call for 'thoughts and prayers,' a phrase that has become as meaningless as a calorie count on a doughnut. They will propose stricter gun laws, which in Germany are already about as tight as a Prussian corset, and they will be met with the same bureaucratic inertia that makes getting a building permit feel like a war of attrition.
But let us not forget the real victims here: the journalists. Oh, the poor, exhausted hacks who have to file this story before their deadline and then move on to the next atrocity like a conveyor belt of human misery. They will write 'chilling attack' because the thesaurus of tragedy is limited. They will interview neighbours who will say, 'He seemed like such a quiet man,' because apparently, being quiet is the precursor to mass murder in the modern world.
And what of the mothers and children? They are reduced to statistics in a news cycle that demands novelty. Six dead. Twenty-three injured. Zero solutions. The world will hold a minute of silence, which is really just a minute of pretending we care before we check our Twitter feeds for something more entertaining.
I propose a new approach. Let us stop pretending that these events are 'unthinkable' when they happen with the regularity of a German train schedule. Let us accept that we are living in a society that has somehow made violence against the innocent as routine as a morning commute. Let us stop plastering the perpetrator's face across every screen, giving him the infamy he craves, and instead focus on the six empty chairs that will never be filled.
But that would require a level of introspection that our clickbait economy simply cannot afford. So instead, we will get more of the same: the op-eds, the debates, the temporary flag-lowering. And when the next shooting happens, which it will, we will be ready with our 'chilling attack' headlines and our 'thoughts and prayers.' Because that's what we do. We are a civilisation that has perfected the art of doing nothing in the face of the abyss.
So raise a glass of airport gin to the fallen, and to the grim certainty that this story will repeat itself. Prost, Germany. Prost.
