11 September 2002: How Everything’s Different
Over the past year religious leaders have occasionally attempted to claim America fulfills the Puritan ideal of the City on the Hill, a shining example of moral governance. I would submit that while America is certainly as visible as a city on a hill, that position is due more to American influence in World affairs than because of any guiding “morality” in its government.
Due to its questionable position of lone superpower, US policies tend to have far-reaching effects that are disproportionate to the US’ actual interests worldwide. Recently, the government of Argentina appealed to the US for financial aid to stop further economic turmoil. The US, as it is wont, sent down a government official who performed a cursory inspection and declared that, in essence, once Argentina corrected its financial woes—according to US recommendations—the US would be more than happy to approve the aid request. While there’s little doubt that there are definite US interests in Argentina, the US government’s action seems to support the rather negative perception of the US that exists around the world: the US is a selfish bully.
Prior to the complete ouster of the Taliban in Afghanistan, many Afghans expressed concern about the US’ commitment to the complete re-organization of the Afghan government. They feared that the US would overthrow the government, and, seeing its task as finished, return to its own shores, leaving Afghanistan in shambles, politically, economically, and structurally. While to date the US has maintained a significant presence in Afghanistan, much needed improvements to the national infrastructure have yet to be started. NPR reported that what was once a three-hour trip between two major cities now takes eight hours due to the extremely poor conditions of the roads. Similar needs include rebuilding schools: various nations and organizations have offered aid to the educational system in the form of computers and textbooks, but many Afghan schools lack walls or chairs. The US has yet to significantly rebuild Afghanistan.
Sadly, the Afghan concerns were not without historical precedent. In the early 1960s, President Kennedy promised (perhaps implicitly, perhaps not) to support a group of Cuban nationals who wished to overthrow Fidel Castro. In what is now known as the Bay of Pigs, the Cuban nationals landed on the island expecting US support that was never to materialize. The invasion and intended coup failed. Similarly, in the 1990s, the first Bush supported Iraqi dissidents with the aim of removing Saddam Hussein. Abruptly he stopped support just before a crucial juncture, and the dissidents were brutally crushed. If nothing else, the US is guilty of a lack of completion that belies its initiative.
If these indicate the government’s interpretation of the significance of September 11, there is no appreciable deviation from historical precedence.
The personal meaning for most Americans seems to be primarily a newfound sense of horror that I would argue was similar to that of the attack on Pearl Harbor. Yet with Pearl Harbor there was an easily identified enemy who possessed an infrastructure similar to our own: they had a navy, an army, a centralized government, a recognizable capital, industries. In short, the Japanese of 1941 were a nation-state. Such a definition allowed Roosevelt to galvanize the American people with speeches to attack the enemy. We, the survivors of September 11, have no such assurances. The army that attacked the US has no capital, no ships, no planes: their air attack used our own materiel against us. While routing the Taliban certainly complicated the day-to-day operations of Al Qaeda, it ultimately did little to avert the overall threat to the US. This enemy is not a nation-state but an armed ideology. Consequently, GW Bush’s “War against Terrorism” lacks the clear focus that existed for Roosevelt’s America of 1941.
Domestically, the tendency of the US government over the past year has been to slowly erode the various civil liberties that some critics rightly claim the attacks were aimed against. If nothing else, an effect of the attacks has been to create a governmental policy that is strongly reminiscent of the totalitarian regimes the US ostensibly opposes. Attorney-General John Ashcroft at one time claimed that to oppose or openly question the stringent policies the administration was promoting was to “aid the terrorists,” the irony lying in the conflict between an American tradition of open discussion and the fundamentalist decrees that brooked no dissent.
My fears are perhaps those shared by civil libertarians: we now see “terrorists” as those intent on attacking the US, but various government attempts (with the exception of John Walker-Lindh) to deny US citizens their constitutional rights seem to indicate the government’s willingness to ignore the Constitution. With such a blatant disregard for a document which the government claims guides and legitimizes its authority, the government sets a dangerous precedence that places all citizens at risk for “terrorism”—perhaps even the terrorism of free-thought and free-speech.
