You would think after 9/11 and the story of Flight 93, we might have learned a little something about how one should react to a terrorist attack. But among the 300+ people at the Pulse Nightclub, while there were a few stories of relative heroism related to opening doors so people could run away, there was not a single gay Todd Beamer among them, there was no "Let's Roll" moment where the victims could have turned the tables on their attacker. Instead, they all ran and hid where they could, including a bathroom, praying that they wouldn't be next to die, until they were.
And if that sounds like blaming the victim, well, yeah, at least for their own reaction in the face of danger. We have taught cowardice and learned helplessness. We've been told not to resist, and to give the criminal what he wants so we don't get hurt. This doesn't work when what the criminal wants is to hurt us. (Oddly though, they no longer suggest that spreading your legs for a rapist will help keep you from getting hurt, but I remember when they did.) Fighting back, or even worse, shooting back, is something we should never even contemplate, they tell us. We'll only make it worse. (Worse than 49 dead and 53 wounded, at least five grievously so?)
When people ask, how could 20 Nazi guards load thousands of Jews onto the trains, knowing what was going to happen to them (even if they were in denial about it) there is your answer: the myth that cooperation will save you, and the myth that fighting back will make no difference. We have lost the will to maintain our human dignity. We will abase ourselves in front of any monster just for a few moments more of our undervalued life.
I have not heard about a single victim who died trying to tackle the killer. If ten could have, who knows how many lives could have been saved. The odds were 300 to 1, but the instinct has been lost. We have lost our sense of heroism (along with our patriotism) and our feelings of duty to our fellow man, even at the expense of our own lives. Nobody thought, "If I do this, I may die, but I will help save my friends." No, everyone stood back or ran if they could to save their own skins, and prayed for the authorities to come save them, which they did, after three hours or so. Plenty of time for the victims to bleed out, plenty of "Golden Hours" lost.
One lefty internet cartoonist bragged that he doesn't need a gun to protect himself, he has a cell phone. Every single person at the club had one too, and they distressingly kept ringing while the authorities tended to the bodies.