Why does a 28-year-old German man, trained to fly, fly a plane into a mountain and kill everybody on board?
Why do masked men take doctors and relief workers, journalists and just behead them?
Why do they do the same to whole groups of others, simply because they're Christian?
Or burn a man alive in a cage as if some terror trophy to show the world, simply because they can?
Why does Boko Haram kidnap hundreds of girls, and attack schools and churches, and butcher thousands more?
It is hard for humans to comprehend the inhumanity.
Harder still to fathom the very human faces of that inhumanity.
Like this picture of a smiling young pilot who looks like he'd sooner crash a party than ever crash a plane.
Or this image of an ISIS butcher when he was just a boy, who looks like any one of my boys.
Something turns them, changes them, perverts them.
But what? When? Why?
None of these questions are new we've asked them time and again before.
About how these otherwise ordinary-looking men going through airport security, would later fly the planes they boarded into buildings.
Or how this slightly odd fellow, who apparently loved dogs, could happily butcher millions of human beings.
They say looks can be deceiving, but we are forever being deceived.
Like when we fly these days and maybe nervously eye fellow passengers on a plane, but never think about the guy piloting that plane.
Or hope talking rationally to a nut will make him any less nutty, only to discover, he's still a nut. Yet we're always surprised.
That's why events like these are so disturbing. They disturb all we think is decent.
They jar us to our senses because they just don't make any sense.
Like when a pilot deliberately crashes a plane, and we all push and dig for answers.
The airline that wants to know why.
The authorities that want to know how.
The insurance companies that want to know how much.
And the families and relatives that just want to know something, anything.
All trying to make sense of the senseless.
And like us, all feeling so clueless.
And it scares us. All of us.
Like we're always flying blind.
Going through life on a wing and a prayer.