I remember quite clearly where I was on September 11, 2001. I was in an introduction to Ocean Engineering class at Virginia Tech. It was an early class, and my professor, Dr. Neu, walked in and told us that a plane had just crashed into the World Trade Center. Like I said, it was early in the day, so I don't think he understood the full implications of what was going on; few did, at that time. Because Dr. Neu is a little kooky anyway, we all just shrugged it off and got on with our lesson as normal. I, for one, assumed it was a small plane.
Once the class was over I went to the dining hall for an early lunch, and I remember walking in and noting that it was eerily quiet. It was then that I saw the TV reporting on what had turned out to be a full terrorist assault on our country. The rest of the day was spent mostly in silence and prayer, watching CNN and wondering with great angst what was to come next. Naturally, it is a day I will never forget.
I doubt I will forget this day either, though I don't think it will be as definitively imprinted on my mind. I didn't find out about Bin Laden's death until I picked up the Daily Press on the doorstep on my way to work. It was a typically slim Monday edition, but on the front was Bin Laden's face and the news that the president had announced he was dead late the night before. I uttered a universal expression of amazement, which is best not repeated in a post as sober as this one. NPR confirmed for me what the paper had said: Osama was dead, there was dancing in the streets of New York.
That last part gave me pause. I am not going to sit here and say that that is an incorrect or a correct response. I can completely understand if people are compelled to celebrate this swift and sudden meting of justice (for justice it was). It is not the way I am responding, but then I don't have a very personal stake in the events of 9/11 or the wars that spun off of that horrible day. I didn't know anyone who died on 9/11. I have not had anyone close to me killed or wounded in Iraq or Afghanistan.
So no, if you want my two cents (for that is about anything I have to say is actually worth), I cannot celebrate a person's death. The mere killing of a man does not make me proud to be an American. That pride rests somewhere else. It rests with the men who carried out a great feat of arms on precise and patient intelligence. It rests with those soldiers on the front lines who prepare for the Taliban/Al Qaeda response as the Afghanistan fighting season begins, and it rests with the families of those eagerly awaiting their return home. It rests with our President, who bucked at least for a moment a "lead from behind" malaise that is clouding the public perceptions of his administration's foreign policy and authorized the operation. It rests with the fact that, if reports are correct, we accorded Bin Laden, this most odious of men, with a burial at sea that at least nodded towards Muslim tradition. This was more than this man deserved, much more than he would have accorded any of us.
In short, if I have any pride in our Nation, it is due to the professionalism and the tenacity of those who serve it and the glorious causes upon which it was founded so well. If we would all strive, with the same sense of duty and perseverance that has been put on display by people far more braver than me, to be better citizens, than perhaps we may realize better days for this, our Happy Republic.
No comments:
Post a Comment