In a message dated 9/13/2001 8:19:47 PM Central Daylight
Time, Stahld writes:
We Will Go Forward From This Moment -- by Leonard Pitts Jr. of the
Miami
Herald
It's my job to have something to say. They
pay me to provide words that
help make sense of that which troubles
the American soul. But in this moment of airless shock when hot
tears sting disbelieving eyes, the only thing I can find to say, the
only words that seem to fit, must be addressed to the unknown author of
this suffering.
You monster. You beast. You unspeakable *******.
What lesson did you hope to teach us by your coward's attack on our
World Trade Center, our Pentagon, us? What was it you hoped we would
learn? Whatever it was, please know that you failed.
Did you want
us to respect your cause? You just damned your cause.
Did you
want to make us fear? You just steeled our resolve.
Did you want to
tear us apart? You just brought us together.
Let me tell you about my
people. We are a vast and quarrelsome family, a
family rent by racial,
social, political and class division, but a family nonetheless. We're
frivolous, yes, capable of expending tremendous emotional energy on pop
cultural minutiae-a singer's revealing dress, a ball team's
misfortune, a cartoon mouse. We're wealthy, too, spoiled by the ready
availability of trinkets and material
goods, and maybe because of
that, we walk through life with a certain sense of blithe entitlement. We
are fundamentally decent, though-peace-loving and compassionate. We
struggle to know the right thing and to do it. And we are, the
overwhelming majority of us, people of faith, believers in a just and
loving God.
Some people-you, perhaps-think that any or all of this
makes us weak. You're mistaken. We are not weak. Indeed, we are
strong in ways that cannot be measured by arsenals.
Yes,
we're in pain now. We are in mourning and we are in shock. We're
still grappling with the unreality of the awful thing you did, still
working to make ourselves understand that this isn't a special effect
from some Hollywood blockbuster, isn't the plot development from a Tom
Clancy novel. Both in terms of the awful scope of their ambition and
the probable final death toll, your attacks are likely to go down as
the worst acts of terrorism in the history of the United States and,
probably, the history of the world. You've bloodied us as we have never
been bloodied before.
But there's a gulf of difference between
making us bloody and making us fall. This is the lesson Japan was taught
to its bitter sorrow the last time anyone hit us this hard, the last time
anyone brought us such abrupt and monumental pain. When roused, we are
righteous in our outrage, terrible in our force. When provoked
by this level of barbarism, we will bear any
suffering, pay any cost,
go to any length, in the pursuit of justice.
I tell you this without
fear of contradiction. I know my people, as you, I think, do not.
What I know reassures me. It also causes me to tremble with dread of the
future.
In the days to come, there will be recrimination and
accusation, fingers
pointing to determine whose failure allowed
this to happen and what can
be done to prevent it from happening
again. There will be heightened security, misguided talk of revoking basic
freedoms. We'll go forward from this moment sobered, chastened, sad.
But determined, too. Unimaginably determined.
You see, the steel
in us is not always readily apparent. That aspect of our character is
seldom understood by people who don't know us well. On this day, the
family's bickering is put on hold.
As Americans we will weep, as
Americans we will mourn, and as Americans,
we will rise in defense of
all that we cherish.
So I ask again: What was it you hoped to teach
us? It occurs to me that maybe you just wanted us to know the depths of
your hatred. If that's the case, consider the message received. And
take this message in exchange:
You don't know my people. You don't
know what we're capable of. You don't know what you just started.
But you're about to learn.
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