Torch, Fall 2006

O n the fifth anniversary of September 11, my students reflected on the horror. Their memories varied. Some of them had personal connections to the terror or its aftermath, and others viewed the events through the prism of television images. Regardless of what tethered each of us to that day, we are still sorting through terror’s effects. Threat levels, Guantanamo Bay, WMDs, al-Qaida, and bin Laden were terms once reserved for the ultra-informed, but they now invade our everyday language. September 11, 2001, has, it seems, changed the way we talk. Terrorism has also changed our national political conversation. Congress’ unity, recalled by the one student, was short-lived. While terrorism has dominated our politics in the past five years, the issue has not produced a political consensus. The schism so apparent after the historic presidential election in 2000 has only grown. As of this writing, Republicans are still in control of the federal government, and Democrats, desperately hoping to unseat the GOP in 2006 and 2008, seem to speak past, and not to, one another. We are fighting a War on Terror, but just as our leaders are unable to reach a consensus on terrorism, our nation is ambivalent about the war, which is far different from our past conflicts. We have not instituted a draft, nor have we organized our economy around the struggle. We have not celebrated our heroes in the same fashion as past generations, who were nourished on the daring leadership of MacArthur and Patton and the battlefield courage of Audie Murphy and Alvin York. To the popular mind, as embodied by media coverage, this war has had precious few heroes. The families of those who serve are left to celebrate alone the feats of the living and the sacrifices of the dead. Politically, the impact of September 11 has been muddled. There are at least three reasons why this is the case. Fall 2006 / TORCH 17 TOP: SUPERSTOCK BELOW: SANDRA HENDERSON / FOTOLIA