About 60 or so people attended the vigil last night organized by the Albuquerque Center for Peace and Justice at Bataan Memorial Park to remember the people who lost their lives in the attacks and the retaliatory killings that followed in Afghanistan, Iraq and elsewhere. A Muslim man began the brief service by releasing about a dozen white doves, which rose to the trees towering above us before re-grouping for their return flight home.
He was followed by religious speakers: a Franciscan priest, who in a few brief comments graciously undermined his reputation for long-windedness; a Buddhist who proselytized; a retired Christian minister, and a Jewish rabbi. The talks were followed by several minutes of quiet reflection punctuated by soft candlelight.
The Buddhist was clearly miffed that her faith tradition had been unrepresented in these inter-faith peace affairs and seemed to determine to make the case why that was a mistake, while I wondered why there was no representation by a voice of secular morality. Many of the people responsible for the 9/11 killings and those that followed justified their actions in the name of God or, equally odious, in the defense of nation, but I don’t recall reason or rationality every being used an excuse for killing.
Like many others, I was prepared to be inundated with reminiscences of the 9/11 attacks, shallow ideological justifications for what followed, along with a smattering of critical reflections. I even penned my own thoughts in a posting a few days before the anniversary. Richard Rohr, one of the vigil speakers, said he spent much of the day watching the coverage, presumably on TV, in search of some indication of an emerging “caring beyond boundaries.” That conviction has always existed, however small and is indistinguishable, but most of what I saw and read, especially in mainstream media of this nation, echoed the nationalist jingoism of a decade ago.
A friend who I admire but have known for only a short while recently reflected on Facebook that she left the United States in 2006 to work overseas “in part because I wanted to understand some whys; because I had been for the war on terror; because I wanted to serve those that so many told me were my enemies.” She returned to the States this year “perhaps more bigoted and with less understanding…I have less faith. Less hope. The one thing I do have—that I know I have—is even more love than ever for my home. My country.”
I also left the United States for overseas work in 2006 and returned this year. But unlike her, I departed deeply disillusioned with America domestic and foreign policy and resolutely opposed to U.S. terrorism waged under the guise of nobly motivated war. I left with the hope I could find some reasons to challenge those beliefs, and while did find a precious few for which I am grateful, I returned with that disenchantment fortified by even more evidence. If by country, we mean the U.S. nation, then I have no love for it, none at all, only deep disappointment.
I woke this morning grateful that the anniversary coverage would soon be over, but a column by Chris Hedges caught my attention while searching for news online. Hedges, whose criticism of U.S. foreign policy manages to alienate many liberals, responded to the Twin Towers attack as a reporter. His column attempted to make sense of how that moment of profound vulnerability was hijacked by the forces of fear and crude nationalism, and concluded:
"It was a moment we squandered. Our brutality and triumphalism, the byproducts of nationalism and our infantile pride, revived the jihadist movement. We became the radical Islamist movement’s most effective recruiting tool. We descended to its barbarity. We became terrorists too.”
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