Comparing Bush after VT with Gore after Columbine

The most significant manifestation of leadership often comes during times of national mourning.  The stuff that makes great leaders who they are--their ability to reassure us, unite us, and appeal to the better angels of our being--is never more obvious than when we are trying to make sense of what is often a senseless world.

Like many, I was ambivalent about the president's decision to speak at today's memorial service at Blacksburg.  But knowing that his participation was inevitable, I was hopeful--yet again--that he would rise to the occasion.  And once again, I was disappointed.  It wasn't that my personal distaste for the man and his policies got in the way of my willingness to be comforted (although I'm sure that was true for many).  It was the hollowness of his words that failed me.

The best way to explain this is by comparing what the president said today to what Vice-President Gore said almost 8 years ago after Columbine.  As you will see, there is no comparison.

During times of unspeakable grief, we look to leaders to comfort us in the following ways:

1. Acknowledgement of our overwhelming and confused feelings: shock, fear, sorrow, anger, our inability to make rational sense of things, and the knowledge that we cannot bring our loved ones back.

2. Sympathy for the dead, their families and loved ones.

3. Honor for those who perished as well as those who tried to save them.

4. Resolve to take action to prevent such a thing from ever happening again.

5. Hope, based not only on the nobility that was displayed during the tragedy itself, but also upon the basic decency of humanity.

The president's address today failed to touch on several of these vital themes.  Al Gore's eulogy after Columbine, on the other hand, touched on each one with words that soared.

The president's speech went straight for sympathy:

Laura and I have come to Blacksburg today with hearts full of sorrow. This is a day of mourning for the Virginia Tech community -- and it is a day of sadness for our entire nation. We've come to express our sympathy. In this time of anguish, I hope you know that people all over this country are thinking about you, and asking God to provide comfort for all who have been affected.

And was followed by a callous acknowledgement:

It's impossible to make sense of such violence and suffering. Those whose lives were taken did nothing to deserve their fate. They were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now they're gone -- and they leave behind grieving families, and grieving classmates, and a grieving nation.

Translation: Shit happens.  It has nothing to do with policies or systemic realities.  Those brave soldiers in Iraq blown up by IEDs?  Must've been in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Despite my distaste for evolution, we live in a Darwinistic world.  Better get used to it.

Contrast this with how Gore began:

Nothing that I say to you can bring comfort. Nothing that anyone else can say can bring comfort. But there is a voice that speaks without words, and addresses us in the depths of our being. And that voice says to our troubled souls: peace, be still. The Scripture promises that there is a peace that passes understanding.

I would be misleading you if I said I understand this. I don't. Why human beings do evil, I do not understand. Why bad things happen to good people, I do not understand. Like every one of you, at such a time as this I go on my knees and ask, "Why, Oh Lord, Why?"

Followed by an almost sublime expression of sympathy:

You are not alone: the heart of America aches with yours. We hold your agony in the center of our prayers. The entire nation is a community of shock, of love, and of grief. May you feel the embrace of the hundreds of millions who weep with you.

"Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted."

And our thoughts are with the many who bore injury; we hope and pray along with their families that they will be whole again. Suffering binds us together. Suffering lays bare our common human need for love, kindness, and grace. In our suffering all of us stand naked before God. For all of us, the scripture says, though it may be darkness now, "joy cometh in the morning." Here in Jefferson County, the spring has yielded to a cold winter of the heart.

Bush's address was bereft of honor.  Nary a word about the victims.  Nothing about teachers like
Liviu Librescu who gave his life trying to save his students.  Nothing.

Contrast this to Gore, who made honor personal:

You have shown us that even in this ashen moment, there is a spark that lights our way forward. At Columbine High School last week, this great goodness was expressed in the bravery of the teachers who risked their own lives to protect the lives of their students. These teachers knew their pupils, and loved them as if they were their own children. No one can doubt that. Their love was not made of words. It was made of acts.

We remember coach and teacher Dave Sanders, who bravely led so many to safety -- but never made it out of the building himself. The young, too, were brave. The student with first aid training who swallowed his fear and returned to that awful smoke-filled corridor to lead others in a three-hour crusade to try to save his teacher's life. There were countless acts of heroism that saved many lives. And there was profound heroism among those who died.

We remember Cassie Bernall, whose final words were: "yes, I do believe in God."

The most grating omission from the president's address was resolve.  There was no call to action, and thus no acknowledgement of a deeper problem.  (And no, I'm not referring to gun rights/control here.) Translation: Ours is a random, dangerous world.  There's nothing we can do to prevent things like this from happening again.

Gore had a much different take:

Now, as we are brought to our knees in the shock of this moment, what say we? What say we into the open muzzle of this tragedy cocked and aimed at our hearts? ...All of us must change our lives to honor these children.

More than ever I realize that every one of us is responsible for the children of our culture. There are children who are hungering for their parents to become more involved in their schools, and to fill the spiritual void in their lives.

If you are a parent, your children need your attention. If you are a grandparent, they need your time. If you do not have children, there are kids who need your example and your presence. Somewhere -- somewhere in reach of every adult in this country -- is a child to hold and teach -- a child to save.

We must have the courage not to look away from those who feel despised and rejected, those for whom we are taught: sin lieth crouching at their door.

All adults in this nation must take on the challenge of creating in all of God's children a clean heart, and a right spirit within. Children look to us; they learn from us. They don't always know when to look away. We must teach them right from wrong. We must protect them from the violence and cruelty in our popular culture. We must teach our children why embracing the right values transcends a moment's cheap sensation.

I believe the best antidote to vulgarity and brutality is the power of a better example, of love over indifference. In the words of Henry Drummond, "the power of a higher affection." The human heart responds to goodness. I believe this. I wouldn't think life worth living if it weren't so
[snip]
Parents, we can stop the violence and the hate. In a culture rife with violence -- where too many young people place too little value on a human life -- we can rise up and say no more. We have seen enough violence in our schools. We must replace a culture of violence and mayhem with one of values and meaning. It is too easy for a young child to get a gun -- and everywhere we look, there are too many lessons in how to use one. We can do something about that.

We need more discipline and character in our schools, and more alternatives to crime and drugs. We can do something about that. We need to look for the earliest signs of trouble -- and teach our children to resolve their differences with reason and conscience, not with flashes of passion. We can do something about that.

And finally, hope.  The Decider's message of hope was firmly rooted, not surprisingly, in prayer and the faith community:

These sources of strength are also in the faith that sustains so many of us. Across the town of Blacksburg and in towns all across America, houses of worship from every faith have opened their doors and have lifted you up in prayer. People who have never met you are praying for you; they're praying for your friends who have fallen and who are injured. There's a power in these prayers, real power. In times like this, we can find comfort in the grace and guidance of a loving God. As the Scriptures tell us, "Don't be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."

And on this terrible day of mourning, it's hard to imagine that a time will come when life at Virginia Tech will return to normal. But such a day will come. And when it does, you will always remember the friends and teachers who were lost yesterday, and the time you shared with them, and the lives they hoped to lead.

Translation:  You'll get over it.

Gore's message of hope was different, almost Lincolnesque:

No society will ever be perfect. But we know the way things should be. And America can be what it is meant to be: a community of goodness, of reason, of moral strength. As the Psalmist prayed, I also pray: "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."

If only we can work our way as a people to that place -- to the place where caring and compassion open us to the lives of our children -- all our children -- then those children who died here this week will not have died in vain.

I join the Kossack community in extending my deepest condolences to the loved ones of yesterday's victims.  Let us resolve that this will not happen again.