On Thursday, Sept. 13, I cried. I cried in
front of my parents, my sister, and 15 other complete strangers dining at the same restaurant as us. The waiter seemed either embarrassed or scared (or both) to deliver our food. As my typically liberal parents proclaimed in a moment of quiet grief that they wanted the U.S. to bomb Afghanistan to the ground if necessary, I got my first true taste of war. It was nauseating.
The loss of over 6,000 innocent lives is incomprehensible to me. I can understand the tears flowing down the faces of men and women I had considered to be strong. I can sense the agony in Mayor Giuliani's faltering voice. I can listen to my parents speak of the friend that they lost (a firefighter, HAZMAT division, one of the first people called to the scene). I can look at the hole in the skyline I grew up watching and feel emptiness grip the lining of my skin until it is painful. But I cannot understand the magnitude of loss that we as a country have experienced, and I certainly can neither understand nor support the loss of any more life, from any nation. Yet that is the reality of war. And at this point, war may not simply be reality for the United States, but necessity.
It seems to me that in any war, the actual enemies number far fewer than the innocent victims. Ideally, the United States could take all of its anger and aggression out on the few perpetrators of this violence, Osama bin Laden and his followers. But in reality that may not be possible. I fear for and I pray for the many innocent citizens of Afghanistan whose lives are now in danger as a result of the heinous acts of a few.
However, I also pray for all those living in our nation. In these first few weeks after the attack, I still find myself wondering at various moments whether my parents were right. I listen to stories of the deceased and break down in tears wondering if perhaps, I would be justified in hating these terrorists. Like most of the nation, I unabashedly hate their terrorist acts and the devastation they have caused. But to hate another human being is powerful. It is hate that caused the hijackers to lose not only their own lives but to cause the deaths of thousands, and it is hate that prompts extremist leaders such as bin Laden to orchestrate such attacks. Such hate is never justified, and never beneficial.
Now hate combined with anger, fear and sadness threatens our nation more than anything else. Reports of anti-Muslim acts have already skyrocketed. Religious leaders have built up security around mosques. An editorial in my county newspaper exclaimed, "It is time we stop letting those Muslims into our country." My sister's best friend is terrified of what might happen to her in school because she chooses to wear the hijab, a headscarf worn by many Muslim women.
As Mayor Giuliani said on the day of the attack, "Your neighbors did not do this." Friends, neighbors, coworkers, acquaintances. None of them would do such a terrible thing to their fellow Americans. None of them are worthy of hate or discrimination based on the acts of religious extremists. None of them deserve to be generalized at all, but especially not as killers.
As we begin fall term here at Dartmouth, we will see whether our precious bubble shall withstand the test of nationwide tragedy. All Dartmouth students have been affected by this attack, and all Dartmouth students have brought their individual stories, perspectives, grievances and dreams back to our idyllic campus. From what I have seen so far, hate has not yet clouded our world. I have not been witness to any acts of prejudice, and I can only hope that I will never see such things on our campus. We as a community can use these times to strengthen our commonalties and understand our differences. We are academics, athletes, musicians, volunteers, and artists of myriad nationalities, ethnicities, religions and sexual orientations. But we are all part of Dartmouth, and part of America. I have never been more proud.
