Crossing a great
divide
Commentary
by ADAM TANOUS
This
Dec. 26, the chads have all scattered in the wind. We are a nation
suddenly on the other side of a great divide.
At about
this time last year there was poison in the air. Political poison. There
was rancor over chads: chads hanging, dimpled and pregnant. It is hard
to believe now that a piece of paper the size of a house fly could
consume the attentions of an entire nation.
This is
not to diminish the weight those chads bore. Behind the absurdity of the
discussion was a concept as profound as any. It is perhaps no accident
that the founders of the nation used as their fundamental premise
"life" then "liberty" then the "pursuit of
happiness." Granted, democracy means nothing without life, but then
life means little without democracy either.
This Dec.
26, the chads have all scattered in the wind. We are a nation suddenly
on the other side of a great divide.
For the
most part, our history—social, political and economic—has progressed
so incrementally as to appear to be a continuum. But this year was
different. Like the Civil War, WWII and the assassination of President
Kennedy, the events of Sept. 11 created a discontinuity in our history.
The events transformed our nation.
It would
be easy to say, in looking back at the year, that our concerns prior to
Sept. 11 were misguided, even trivial. But that would not be quite
right.
Perhaps
what we might glean instead is not that we have to do different things
with our energies, but that we have to do more things. Just when we
thought our lives were as complicated as we could bear, they just became
much more so.
Certainly,
when we are faced with the reality that jets can be hijacked and slammed
into buildings, it is inconceivable not to re-evaluate priorities. Our
instinct is to simplify our lives, pare them down to the vital elements.
Random tragedy causes us to set our sights less on the other side of the
rainbow and more on the moment in the foreground. The great promise of
all in the illusive middle distance has always been a shaky proposition.
It is shakier now. Life suddenly seems much too precarious for such a
dreamy approach to life. And yet, for a nation like ours, dreams are
basic sustenance.
Our
having to do more pertains to our responsibilities as a nation and as
individuals. Yes, we have to hunt down terrorists. We have to spend
billions of dollars bombing a bunch of dirt caves. We have to spend
hours at airports. We have to irradiate mail. We have to keep tabs on
water supplies and vials of microbes.
But in
the years to come we also have to do some other things as well:
We have
to bring terrorists to justice while at the same time going to great
lengths to protect civil liberties. Killing the enemy at war is one
thing. But hustling a perceived or proven enemy into a secret tribunal
never to be seen or heard from again is another matter altogether.
Maintaining due process in such trying circumstances will not be easy.
Still, it is necessary to do so if we hope to keep the faith of a nation
intact.
We have
to address tremendous needs at home, but at the same time engage the
rest of the world more than we have of late. To say that President Bush’s
tendency toward isolationism is responsible for the events of Sept. 11
would be dead wrong. At the same time, the effort we expend and concern
we show for the rest of the world matters profoundly. It would be nice
to live in the illusory past where our foreign policy waxed and waned in
importance. We don’t have that luxury anymore. There is no denying
that the world is smaller now—socially, politically and economically.
Pulling out of the Kyoto Accord and the ABM treaty, as well as taking a
laissez faire attitude in the Mideast may make our lives easier now, but
it will surely complicate our lives later.
We have
to come to terms with this nation’s multicultural nature. Somewhere
along the way, we stopped believing in the power of the melting pot.
This nation started with abundant natural resources. But more than that,
it started with a diversity of peoples who brought their talents and
experience and wisdom with them. This is why our country has flourished.
We are not a Protestant nation, nor a Catholic nation, nor a Jewish
nation. We are neither Muslim nor Buddhist. We are what no other country
is: all of these. When we accept this as a strength rather than as a
liability, we move forward.
It is
possible that the rest of the world has learned more about the U.S. this
year than perhaps we learned about ourselves. What the world has always
underestimated about this nation is the power of our eternal optimism.
This optimism is, in a way, a self-fulfilling prophesy. Because anything
can happen here, we attract the dreamers of the world. And because the
dreamers come, anything can happen here.
The one
thing that can’t happen, however, is this big divide we have crossed
can’t be recrossed. Despite the initial resentment we might feel about
the new protocols of life, we might as well fall back on our optimism
and celebrate this side of the great divide.
We now
have a new appreciation for life, for our liberties, for what happiness
means. Some might say we’ve become a more suspicious nation. But in
being suspicious, we are, at least, seeing the people around us again.
Our sense of community, ironically, has been strengthened.
What’s
more, we’ve come to realize that the strength of the nation is not
found in Washington or with our fancy military or bullish stock market.
It is strength forged of many small parts—250 million of them, like so
many fibers in a weave. It is strength not readily apparent. But it is
there when we need it.
This year
saw this nation take a blow about as big as a nation can take. And when
the wound was laid open what was revealed were people with compassion,
strength, courage, conviction—all the stuff of legends. But this was
real.