The madness of Fort Hood

Two weeks ago, the entire nation reeled over the events of Fort Hood, Texas.

What appears to be the attack of a lone gunman, Major Nidal Malik Hasan, is one of the most violent non-military events to occur on an active base in American history.

Although initially reported as dead, Hasan is alive, and now charged with 13 counts of premeditated murder.

Hasan is being held in a military hospital and the nature of his communication with law enforcement officials is clouded with mystery.

We'll spend a lot of time honoring the dead and wounded, mourning with the families of those lost, and trying to contemplate how something so needless and tragic can occur on our own soil.

And while we can't forget those who were lost, or help but see the tragedy of an enlisted individual being killed not in combat, but by his fellow soldier, we must keep ourselves in check.

It's easy to get emotional, to suddenly blurt out that the Muslims did it.

It would be easy to start panicking, to wonder how many more potentially dangerous traitors are hiding in our armed forces. All of those images will haunt us.

Remember that dark part of American history for a moment. It is there, in the back of the mind, in places that outstanding citizens don't discuss in fine company. That place is the one already probably whispering in our ears.

This dark voice would have us afraid of all of the Muslims in the military.

This little devil on our shoulders would have this lunatic and his hatred become a conspiracy to undo the fabric of our society.

This dark place in our history locked up thousands of Japanese-Americans in the wake of Pearl Harbor; it imprisoned hundreds of Arab-Americans all across the globe after the crippling panic of 9/11.

This place is not one we should visit again.

Remember for a moment the family of Hasan, and the life they have been condemned to.

Suspicion and hate are the only thing in their future because that frightening part of us will wonder if they somehow planted a seed of hatred into this man's mind.

We shall wonder, "What kind of home do they keep? What kind of things to they say behind closed doors and bound curtains?"

What built Hasan into a monster?

Was it a sudden and immediate collapse into the depths of madness? Or was it a slow, simmering, stewing hatred that has roots somewhere we may not be brave enough to go?

Whatever investigation begins now, let them look for the answer, and not the easy fix. Let them find out what drove an army psychiatrist to the depths of depravity. Scapegoats won't due, and short answers aren't always the best ones.

Was this a preventable explosion of a slowly imploding man, or a sudden and desperate act of violence by yet another Muslim- American with an identity crisis?

With luck, time, and smart reporters, we may find the answers to all of these questions.

We may find something that eases our mental anguish.

No matter what we find, we cannot let that dark place grip us in the wake of such horror.

Hasan is a criminal, and charged with murder. But we cannot be afraid of him, we cannot be afraid of anything that would harm us.

If we lose control, if we descend into paralyzing fear, then history has taught us that we become the madmen.