Looking at, and moving past, the tragedy

BY BEN REITER

I woke up on Tuesday morning to discover that a dozen-and-a-half men with knives had murdered perhaps 10,000 Americans, and that our nation, within the space of an hour, had been forever changed. As some of our greatest and most recognizable edifices were shattered by commercial jets-turned-missiles, so too was the shell of security that our generation has always assumed to be impenetrable.

Our grandparents experienced Pearl Harbor, the event to which the tragedy on Tues., Sept. 11 has been so often compared over the past few days, however inaccurately. Our parents, as children, saw president assassinated and went to bed very night fearing that Soviet nuclear warheads launched from Cuba might annihilate them by sunrise. Our generation, however, has always felt secure, if those who could harm us existed only oceans away, unable to penetrate the borders of this mighty nation-a latter-day version Shakespeare's England, a shining stone set in the silver sea.

Until Tuesday. Now, we do not feel safe.

Our generation has joined those that came before us, sharing the knowledge that we are, at all times, potential targets of evil. And, tragically, I don't think anyone in our nation will ever again fully enjoy the feeling of security we've had for the past two-plus decades.

We've seen isolated incidents, of course: the bombings of the Murrah building in Oklahoma City and of the World Trade Center in 1993, to name two. As horrific as such events were, they seemed to be the work of madmen, lone wolves. They were fundamentally different from the coordinated attack executed on our nation on Tuesday. And it is the very nature of this difference that has allowed us to maintain faith in American invincibility. In the aftermath of those other attacks, we cleaned up the wreckage, mourned the dead (as many still do daily), and continued on, fundamentally the same. We cannot do that this time.

The question, of course, is what happens now. Americans must once again mourn the dead-those on the planes and in the buildings, the rescue workers who lost their lives by performing their duties so bravely. But simultaneously we must realize that this may only be the beginning, just as Pearl Harbor was. It is not enough to fortify our airports; the threats of bombs exploding among us and of anthrax being released in our public places constantly lurk. It is our parents' generation that will begin the fight, but it is ours that will continue it.

From the beginning, it was my fear that once the shock of the initial attack began to abate, it would be replaced by rage and a thirst for the blood of Osama bin Laden and those who harbored him. Such emotions already seem to be coming to the fore: according to a Wednesday NBC news poll, 83 percent of Americans desire a swift and unyielding military response directed against those who attacked our nation. Such a response is certainly warranted.

NEWSMAKERS

However, we must act strategically, not unable emotionally, since every action we take will have manifold repercussions in our unbalanced world. Clausewitz argued that it is essential for political leaders to retain total control over the military at all times, as war is, above all, a means of achieving political objectives.

We must not unleash our military might for vengeance, for that is precisely what our reaction is in danger of degenerating into; there is, in my mind, no possible "justice" attainable here. The political goal now is to rebuild the shell of security that every American so desperately misses, so that generations which follow us can grow and thrive within it and, at the same time, enjoy all the freedoms that we do. Our military activities, both domestically and abroad, must match this goal; if they exceed it, we may be putting our nation-and our future generations-in even greater peril.

One can see lower Manhattan from the top of a hill mere blocks from my New Jersey home. Like most others who live in the New York area, I used to take the sight of the two great towers for granted. I have been to a handful of parties at Windows on the World; I walked through the expansive concourse just this past summer with a friend who was interning near the towers. These things simply do not exist anymore, and I am still unable to believe it, being 60 miles away and unable to see it with my own eyes.

I have been in daily contact with my parents since Tuesday, and I've asked my mother what Manhattan looks like. She has refused to look at it; she can't yet. But she will, as we all will. Our nation has been dealt a blow, but we will rise to meet the incursion on both our security and our sense of self-without fear, and without rage, but with an unbending sense of determination.

Back to Opinion...