In Memorium
It was my intention to devote a column to remembering September 11th, but didn’t realize how hard it would be to verbalize my feelings. I had decided not to try, when I read an article by Charles Krauthammer who writes for Jewish World Review. The article, entitled "Remembrance and Resolve," echoed my thoughts so well, I wanted to share it with you today. It was too long to fit the allotted space, so I have edited it as carefully as possible to retain its meaning.
September 11 occasioned many tragedies—many terrible deaths, injuries, sorrows. These tragedies elicit a deep compassion and a shared grief. Which is why this September was a day of compassion and grief; of sorrow and remembrance; of celebration, too, of the courage and sacrifice of the heroes of that day.
But we would pay such homage had the Word Trade Center and the Pentagon collapsed in an earthquake. They did not. And because they did not, more is required than just homage and respect. Not just sorrow and consolation, but renewed anger and determination. And not “closure,” that call to passivity and resignation, but open-ended action against those who perpetrated September 11 and would do it again.
The temptation on any anniversary is to just look back. But on December 7, 1941, the country did not just look back on the sunken Arizona. It looked forward to the destruction of Japan.
Mourning alone cannot fully honor the murdered. Justice must be done as well. The dead of September 11 cannot be adequately honored unless we remember not just that they died but at whose hands they died. It means remembering that this was a declaration of war—one we did not seek but one we cannot avoid.
We would like to avoid it. Americans are averse to war. We have a history of doing what we can to avoid it. It took three years for us to enter World War I. It took a surprise attack to get us into World War II. After getting burned in Korea and Vietnam, we reverted to form. If Saddam Hussein had not invaded Kuwait in 1990 and if we had not been dragged into Kosovo, we would now be celebrating the Thirty Year’s Peace.
It stands to reason. A continental nation protected by vast oceans and friendly neighbors has no desire to go abroad in search of monsters. This is why, when Osama bin Ladin and radical Islam declared war on the U.S. in the 1990s, we ignored the declaration and the provocations – the first attack on the World Trade Center, the embassy bombings in Africa, the attack on the U.S.S. Cole and other, more recent attacks of terrorists.
After each outrage, a grim president would declare himself aggrieved and pledge not to rest until those responsible were brought to justice. A few FBI agents would be dispatched to Yemen, a few missiles would land in some dessert, and soon he, and we, would return to our repose.
September 11 was different. Yet so deep were our habits of complacency that in the first hours administration officials reverted to the old language of crime, pledging to bring the killers to justice. It became clear that the challenge of radical Islam was a matter not of law enforcement but of war. This time we would not just “bring our enemies to justice.” We would “bring justice to our enemies.”
This was too obvious for anyone serious to protest and no one serious did. The war in Afghanistan enjoyed national support, as did the war in Iraq initially. Yet here we are today, returned to a state of suspension and confusion.
We feel the uncertainty. But our enemies do not. Which is why the challenge of this year’s observance of September 11 is to remember the feelings of that year. Not just the pain, but the danger. It endures. And so it will until we have destroyed those who did the deed, those who support them and those who would emulate them.
A question to ponder:
Why do we forget what we’re taught, but remember what we’ve learned?
putterhn@suddenlink.net
Hugh Neeld is a freelance columnist for TylerPaper.com.
September 11 occasioned many tragedies—many terrible deaths, injuries, sorrows. These tragedies elicit a deep compassion and a shared grief. Which is why this September was a day of compassion and grief; of sorrow and remembrance; of celebration, too, of the courage and sacrifice of the heroes of that day.
But we would pay such homage had the Word Trade Center and the Pentagon collapsed in an earthquake. They did not. And because they did not, more is required than just homage and respect. Not just sorrow and consolation, but renewed anger and determination. And not “closure,” that call to passivity and resignation, but open-ended action against those who perpetrated September 11 and would do it again.
The temptation on any anniversary is to just look back. But on December 7, 1941, the country did not just look back on the sunken Arizona. It looked forward to the destruction of Japan.
Mourning alone cannot fully honor the murdered. Justice must be done as well. The dead of September 11 cannot be adequately honored unless we remember not just that they died but at whose hands they died. It means remembering that this was a declaration of war—one we did not seek but one we cannot avoid.
We would like to avoid it. Americans are averse to war. We have a history of doing what we can to avoid it. It took three years for us to enter World War I. It took a surprise attack to get us into World War II. After getting burned in Korea and Vietnam, we reverted to form. If Saddam Hussein had not invaded Kuwait in 1990 and if we had not been dragged into Kosovo, we would now be celebrating the Thirty Year’s Peace.
It stands to reason. A continental nation protected by vast oceans and friendly neighbors has no desire to go abroad in search of monsters. This is why, when Osama bin Ladin and radical Islam declared war on the U.S. in the 1990s, we ignored the declaration and the provocations – the first attack on the World Trade Center, the embassy bombings in Africa, the attack on the U.S.S. Cole and other, more recent attacks of terrorists.
After each outrage, a grim president would declare himself aggrieved and pledge not to rest until those responsible were brought to justice. A few FBI agents would be dispatched to Yemen, a few missiles would land in some dessert, and soon he, and we, would return to our repose.
September 11 was different. Yet so deep were our habits of complacency that in the first hours administration officials reverted to the old language of crime, pledging to bring the killers to justice. It became clear that the challenge of radical Islam was a matter not of law enforcement but of war. This time we would not just “bring our enemies to justice.” We would “bring justice to our enemies.”
This was too obvious for anyone serious to protest and no one serious did. The war in Afghanistan enjoyed national support, as did the war in Iraq initially. Yet here we are today, returned to a state of suspension and confusion.
We feel the uncertainty. But our enemies do not. Which is why the challenge of this year’s observance of September 11 is to remember the feelings of that year. Not just the pain, but the danger. It endures. And so it will until we have destroyed those who did the deed, those who support them and those who would emulate them.
A question to ponder:
Why do we forget what we’re taught, but remember what we’ve learned?
putterhn@suddenlink.net
Hugh Neeld is a freelance columnist for TylerPaper.com.
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