By Shachi Kurl, President
“The death of a beloved is an amputation” – C.S. Lewis
In the wake of grief, the ghost pain of amputation follows: the ache of knowing a love now gone. The daily, monthly, yearly reminders of existences obliterated.
After 40 years, it is also an apt reflection of the ways in which Canada has — and hasn’t — reckoned with the deadliest terrorist attack on its own people. Exactly four decades ago today, 280 Canadian citizens, including 54 children, were murdered. Twenty-eight of them were from Ottawa. They met their end in a plane whose journey originated in Vancouver B.C., then was ripped apart over the Atlantic Ocean by a deliberately placed bomb. The plane belonged to India. The vast majority of its 329 passengers were Canadians. But the events have never been fully owned by this country.
We report and reflect, for a moment, at this time every year. Outside of June 23, however, an event that should be seared into national memory is generally mentioned only in passing, appended to news coverage of bungled CSIS and RCMP investigations, or to discussions about Canada-India relations.
The death of a beloved is an amputation, Lewis wrote. Except for the ghost pain of victims’ families, it has been lost, forgotten.
A new Angus Reid Institute survey canvassing awareness and perceptions of the attack finds more than 80 per cent in this country unable to correctly identify the bombing as the single worst case of mass murder of Canadians in our history. One-in-three (32 per cent) say they’ve never heard of the incident. This rises to a stunning 54 per cent among those aged 18-to-34.
What can the victims’ families possibly take from this lack of awareness among their fellow citizens?
