(This article reflects how I feel about this and Mr. Pitts
is much more eloquent than I)
In the end, it's the terrorists who will mourn.
Leonard Pitts, Jr. - Miami Herald
They pay me to tease the shades of meaning from social and cultural
issues, to provide words that help make sense of that which troubles the
American soul. But in this moment of airless shock when hot tears sting
disbelieving eyes, the only thing I can find to say, the only words that
seem to fit, must be addressed to the unknown author of this suffering:
You monster. You beast. You unspeakable bastard. What lesson did you hope
to teach us by your coward's attack on our World Trade Center, our
Pentagon, us? What was it you hoped we would learn? Whatever it was,
please know that you failed. Did you want us to respect your cause? You
just damned your cause. Did you want to make us afraid? You just steeled
our resolve. Did you want to tear us apart? You just brought us together.
Let me tell you about my people. We are a vast and quarrelsome family, a
family bent by racial, cultural, political, and class division, but a
family nonetheless. We're frivolous, yes, capable of expending tremendous
emotional energy on pop culture minutiae: a singer's revealing dress, a
ball team's misfortune, a cartoon mouse. We're wealthy, too, spoiled by
the readily availability of trinkets and material goods, and maybe because
of that, we walk through life with a certain bit of blithe entitlement. We
are fundamentally decent, though-peace-loving and compassionate. We
struggle to know the right thing and to do it. And we are, the
overwhelming majority of us, people of faith, believers in a just and
loving God. Some people, you perhaps, think that any or all of this makes
us weak. You're mistaken. We are not weak. Indeed, we are strong in ways
that cannot be measure by arsenals.
Yes, we're in pain now. We are in morning and we are in shock. We're still
grappling with the unreality of the awful thing you did, still working to
make ourselves understand that isn't a special effect from some Hollywood
blockbuster, isn't the plot development from a Tom Clancy novel. Both in
terms of the awful scope of it's ambition and the probable final death
toll, your attacks are likely to go down as the worst acts of terrorism in
the history of the United States and, indeed, the history of the world.
You've bloodied us as we have never been bloodied before. But there's a
gulf of difference between making us bloody and making us fall. This is
the lesson Japan was taught to it's bitter sorrow the last time anyone hit
us this hard, the last time anyone brought us to such and monumental pain.
When aroused, we are righteous in our outrage, terrible in our force. When
provoked by this level of barbarism, we will bear any suffering, pay any
cost, go to any length, in the pursuit of justice.
I tell you this without fear of contradiction. I know my people, as you, I
think, do not. What I know reassures me. It also causes me to tremble with
dread of the future. In days to come, there will be recrimination and
accusation, fingers pointing to determine whose failure allowed this to
happen and what can be done to prevent it from happening again. There will
be heightened security, misguided talk of revoking basic freedoms. We'll
go forward from this moment sobered, chastened, sad. But determined, too.
Unimaginably determined. You see, there is steel beneath this velvet. That
aspect of our character is seldom understood by people who don't know us
well. On this day, the family's bickering is put on hold. As Americans we
will weep, as Americans we will mourn, as Americans we will rise in
defense of all we cherish.
Still, I keep wondering what it was you hoped to teach us. It occurs to me
that maybe you just wanted us to know the depths of your hatred. If that's
the case, consider the message received. And take this message in
exchange: You don't know my people. You don't know what we're about. You
don't know what you just started. But you're about to learn.
