There's a piece of me that wants to see the skies of Afghanistan filled with a fleet of bombers and fighters that blot out the sun, that wants Bin Laden and all who aid him to have their nostrils filled with the stink of their children burning for once, that wants them to know nothing but screaming and fear and pain in their final moments.
But I don't want to give in to that part of me.
Another part of me understands that one can't resort to using indiscriminate killing in retaliation, or we lose a piece of our nobility and we never get it back. There's some truth to the argument that in lowering oneself to the terrorists' level, they ultimately win. I've read the reports which indicate that even though the Taliban shelters Bin Laden, the average citizen of Afghanistan is as much an innocent victim as the WTC casualties: Women, for example, are prisoners in their own homes, sitting and waiting to be killed when the Taliban suddenly decides that wearing glasses is a crime against Islam or some equally ludicrous thing. I don't believe my conscience will allow me to join the call to "Kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out."
However, I also understand that the aggressor sets the tone of the conflict. When you've got a pack of rabid jackals taking chunks out of you, you can't try to box them using Queensbury Rules and codes of gentleman's pugilistic sportsmanship. You shoot them like the dangerous animals they are. Too often, unfortunately, the right thing to do, the moral thing to do, and the necessary thing to do are not even close to being the same thing.
I agree that we should focus on the good being done: When I hear reports of every state in the Union sending relief personnel to assist in the rescue/recovery effort; of hospitals receiving more blood donors than they can accept at once; of rescue volunteers stating their intention to keep helping until they drop from exhaustion themselves; of cabdrivers helping to ferry relief personnel around the city; even of a shoe store just handing out sneakers to women who had abandoned their high-heels in order to run faster from the collapse site; then my eyes tear up and a roar of defiance begins to build in my throat. Call it corny, but I hear the strains of David Arnold's score from "Independence Day" (notably "The President's Speech" and "International Code") in the back of my head as I realize that these reports are the most important of all.
The perpetrators of this act sought to bring America to a standstill. They have failed miserably. We may be quiet now, we may be moving slowly now, but that is only a brief pause to gather and focus strength. When America's passion is aroused, and when given a common cause to direct it, we are the most unstoppable force the world has ever seen. As lame as it sounds, I remember a line from the old Dungeons and Dragons cartoon: "There is no darkness so powerful that even a single candle cannot chase it away."
In New York and Washington, and all across America, a great great great great many candles are shining into life tonight.
