Volume 4, number 9, October/November 2002 More Than We Notice I spent my high school years in Munich, West Germany, where the stereotype of Americans was that they were loud and arrogant. They were the tourists you could hear two blocks away shouting: "What's wrong with you?!? Don't you speak English?? Tell us which way to the Hofbrauhaus!! We want a good German beer!!" as if speaking louder would suddenly make the local listener understand English. I must confess that at first the stereotype seemed accurate, but with time I realized that most Americans were soft-spoken, polite, thoughtful, and respectful. Those you noticed, those who commanded attention, were brash and obnoxious, but the majority was another, a positive "silent" majority. I was reminded of this silent majority in the days after September 11, 2001. Having followed the Gulf War--with its prime-time footage of missiles smacking into buildings, with its pervasive and highly touted military statistics, with media saturation of undivided support for the war against "evil," with its celebrations and parades--I expected that after September 11, the American people would be clamoring for war. So I was very surprised by the letters to the editor in the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner the weeks after the terrorist attacks. The News-Miner printed 60 letters addressing the attacks in the subsequent two weeks (September 13 through 26). Of these, 22 expressed sadness, or prayed, or showed positive patriotism, or a desire to help, or fear of retribution against U.S. Arabs or of losing our civil liberties. An even greater number, 24, had just one basic theme: they questioned our administration's course--its talk of a global war, of ridding the world of "evil," of crusades. The letters spoke out against war, against revenge; they asked about the root causes of terrorism; they looked for alternatives to a cycle of violence. A mere six letters, instead, echoed the administration's call for revenge, for war, and for anger toward anyone who may question the war. Sixty letters may be a limited number to survey, but they echoed the vigils and rallies held nationwide, they echoed the need to question that made surprise bestsellers of books by Michael Moore or Noam Chomsky. The News-Miner letters also stand as a unified community response in a forum where we usually see an even split between two sides that dogmatically debate ANWR drilling, teaching evolution, wolf control, snowmachine bans, and the like. When it came to massive retaliation, to launching a global war, to what our own president was advocating, the letters were four to one against. The grisly and shocking events of September 11 provided an unusual window for Americans. Any response to an event will involve an instinctive, "gut" reaction, and a response based on information about the event and its context. Much of the information about world events, as well as how we should think about them, comes from mainstream media. In the case of the Gulf War, the media helped prepare Americans for the attack on Iraq, bringing in administration and military experts, polling citizens, and bringing in more government and military voices, until the American people were ready. But September 11 caught everyone by surprise--even the mainstream media, for once, was temporarily dumbfounded. This allowed a brief window for Americans to respond with their instinct and their knowledge. Eighty percent of the letters to the News-Miner during the first two weeks revealed compassion, kindness, and thoughtfulness, not just for the Americans who suffered, but for all in the world who have suffered and might suffer. The letters also raised many questions. The moment of shock, of horror, of silence, allowed the voices of average Americans to be heard. It did not take long, though, for our mainstream media to regroup and begin informing us again. This was reflected in the News-Miner's national op-ed pieces. By September 24, the media had found its stride: the op-ed from the "right" claimed that past U.S. failure to respond massively to terrorist and rogue state actions gave the September 11 attackers the green light, and the "liberal" op-ed stated "we all agree with President Bush's declaration that we are at war." Although in the days that followed, News-Miner letters to the editor continued asking questions about history and the effects of war, and questioning its wisdom, the national parameters had been set. Two weeks after the terrorist attacks, anyone turning on their TV or radio found pretty much uniform support for a war on Afghanistan. Today, the Bush administration has made a war against Iraq its top priority. The administration and mass media have had time to prepare the American people, to "inform" them, and so, despite the objection of so-called critics--including virtually every head of state in the world; veterans of past Republican administrations like Brent Scowcroft and Lawrence Eagleburger; military voices, like the president's own special envoy to the Middle East, General Zinni; even Henry Kissinger--it appears we are on the road to war. The cycle has begun: the "deployment" of administration officials (Washington Post wording) to the airwaves to make their case, polls, presidential speeches, a new round of deployments. The goal is to convince Americans that there is no alternative to war on Iraq. I think back to those days after September 11 and all the people who showed both humanity and thoughtfulness. "This is a time when our nation could show its leadership by demonstrating to the world that violence and terror is not a solution." Without prescriptive media saturation, the thoughts, questions, and concerns of average Americans came to light. "What lies beyond retaliation? What can the government, corporations and individuals do to make the United States a better world citizen, and mitigate the atmosphere of hate that breeds terrorism? ...We need the guts and the tolerance to ask the right questions about our role in this world." If ours is to be an active, real democracy, we need to keep pressing with questions. In his much-touted speech to the U.N. General Assembly, George Bush made his case for implementing U.N. resolutions as well as effecting regime change in Iraq. He made his basic world understanding of good vs. evil clear. His words, though, prompt many questions that White House reporters and members of Congress apparently fear asking. For example:
On September 11, George W. Bush said words of which every American should be proud: "Our deepest national conviction is that every life is precious." A good Christian, surely Mr. Bush is not implying that only American lives qualify. Surely, leading the much-touted "good," Mr. Bush should have no fear of questions that ask for clarification before launching attacks that will kill innocent people and likely further destabilize the Middle East. In fact, a democratic government should welcome questions that clarify matters and help provide a more complete understanding to its citizens, to whom the government should be both responsible and accountable. Given the implications of attacking Iraq, our representatives should be hearing these, and more, questions, and, in turn, asking them of our administration. When I lived in Germany, I learned about perhaps the greatest achievement toward peace in this century--the Marshall Plan. Rebuilding war-torn Europe brought prosperity and peace. The sanctions and punishment that had followed the First World War didn't go as far as killing a half million Germans under the age of five, but they bred hatred for the Allies, they fed the rise of Nazism. The Marshall Plan's goals rose far above those of retribution, of supporting and arming tyrants and dictators for short-term political or economic gain. And the Marshall Plan was effective--the free and democratic Germany I got to know first-hand was a testament to this fact. My friends and I occasionally went to the Munich Hofbrauhaus, even though the beer always seemed watered down, to watch tourists. I remember one day a group of young men, fraternity boys from an Ivy League school, were guzzling beer, swearing, and trying to pick fights with their neighbors. When they started throwing up on the table, we left. But I also saw other Americans in Munich, like an older couple one day in a beer garden, pocket dictionary open on the table, chatting with a local man. I gathered they had met him and asked where they could find good Bavarian beer. He had brought them to an old monastery brewery and was explaining in German and broken English the many centuries of the brewery's history. I remember thinking: I bet there are many more people like this than we notice.
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