"I've never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure." - Mark Twain
At 1 am CST last night, after being asleep for about an hour, I got woken up by my phone constantly buzzing with text messages.
The first one I read was simply "WOOHOO!" from a law school friend. "Great," I thought. "He's drunk texting on a Sunday."
After realizing my inbox had about five more similar messages I realized something was happening. Without tv or the internet until this weekend (damn you, Comcast), I logged on to NPR's iPhone app.
"OSAMA BIN LADEN KILLED."
I'll admit it--my initial reaction was not "WOOHOO!"--it was more like relief mixed with a little bit of happiness, surprise, and a weird sense of peace.
Relief not because his life was taken but because for so long he and his followers planned and rejoiced over American lives taken without any sort of sadness or remorse--and now he was gone.
Happiness not for his death but for all those family members of the 9/11 victims who needed some kind of justice, symbolic or not, that they can look to when remembering their loss.
Happiness not for his death but for what he symbolized for some people and his perpetuating the stereotype of Muslims as murderous, heartless, vengeful souls.
Surprise because I sort of thought Osama had died a while back and the very unorganized and chaotic Al-Qaeda needed their leader to be "alive" to keep the fear alive.
And finally peace because so many people were holding their breaths for this moment for ten years and he had been laughing, celebrating, and--worst of all to most people--living. And now there seemed to be a balance of some sort, at least the illusion of it.
I don't think waving the American flag and dancing in the streets is the way I would ever show my feelings about Bin Laden's death--or anyone's death. But I do understand the emotions behind wanting to do that, the need for some sort of something after years of hurting and mourning.
I woke up and read more about the mission, the attack, and all those (pretty damn brave) military men and women involved. I watched Obama's full speech in my comfy bed on my phone and thought he did an excellent job in explaining what happened and what it may mean. I felt pride, yes, for the county and for President Obama who is constantly being questioned as legitimate because he's young, black, and has an exotic name.
A feeling of unrest took the place of all that quickly. My mind was everywhere, questioning everything.
Are we pulling troops out of Afghanistan? Are we continuing this war? Does this mean Al-Qaeda is done also? It's a victory, I agree, but to what degree? Was this really a "strategic blow" to his followers? Does he have a successor ready to go? How does Pakistan feel?
I know, even with my limited knowledge on Al-Qaida and the terrorist movement, that this so-called war against terror is hardly done. This doesn't mean we're done defending ourselves and our land against the people associated with that man--or all new enemies we don't even know yet. As CIA director Leon Panetta wrote in a memo: "Bin Laden is dead. Al-Qaida is not." In fact, the fear has been this will cause some sort of retaliation. Embassies across the world were already warned and even on my drive to work this morning, I watched a helicopter (probably just monitoring traffic) with suspicion. And there is already debate about whether his "burial at sea" was okay from a Muslim perspective.
Despite the feeling that this death is a good thing for the victims of 9/11 and America (hell, it ain't America's WORST day) and despite the people running and screaming "USA! USA!" in the streets, I sadly thought about what this doesn't mean. His death cannot bring back all the lives lost. His death won't re-erect the towers or bring the people of Flight 93 back. It won't erase any pain or tears. It's just one death after many deaths, a domino but not the last one.
Part of me wishes I could just feel joy and patriotism and it stopped there. But I, like most of the Conservative and Liberal journalist I've been following all day, have to keep going past that. So now in the midst of all those emotions I felt at 1 am this morning, I am watching the news and holding my breath again for the next moment when the President will have to put his game face on again and get in front of that camera.
At 1 am CST last night, after being asleep for about an hour, I got woken up by my phone constantly buzzing with text messages.
The first one I read was simply "WOOHOO!" from a law school friend. "Great," I thought. "He's drunk texting on a Sunday."
After realizing my inbox had about five more similar messages I realized something was happening. Without tv or the internet until this weekend (damn you, Comcast), I logged on to NPR's iPhone app.
"OSAMA BIN LADEN KILLED."
I'll admit it--my initial reaction was not "WOOHOO!"--it was more like relief mixed with a little bit of happiness, surprise, and a weird sense of peace.
Relief not because his life was taken but because for so long he and his followers planned and rejoiced over American lives taken without any sort of sadness or remorse--and now he was gone.
Happiness not for his death but for all those family members of the 9/11 victims who needed some kind of justice, symbolic or not, that they can look to when remembering their loss.
Happiness not for his death but for what he symbolized for some people and his perpetuating the stereotype of Muslims as murderous, heartless, vengeful souls.
Surprise because I sort of thought Osama had died a while back and the very unorganized and chaotic Al-Qaeda needed their leader to be "alive" to keep the fear alive.
And finally peace because so many people were holding their breaths for this moment for ten years and he had been laughing, celebrating, and--worst of all to most people--living. And now there seemed to be a balance of some sort, at least the illusion of it.
I don't think waving the American flag and dancing in the streets is the way I would ever show my feelings about Bin Laden's death--or anyone's death. But I do understand the emotions behind wanting to do that, the need for some sort of something after years of hurting and mourning.
I woke up and read more about the mission, the attack, and all those (pretty damn brave) military men and women involved. I watched Obama's full speech in my comfy bed on my phone and thought he did an excellent job in explaining what happened and what it may mean. I felt pride, yes, for the county and for President Obama who is constantly being questioned as legitimate because he's young, black, and has an exotic name.
A feeling of unrest took the place of all that quickly. My mind was everywhere, questioning everything.
Are we pulling troops out of Afghanistan? Are we continuing this war? Does this mean Al-Qaeda is done also? It's a victory, I agree, but to what degree? Was this really a "strategic blow" to his followers? Does he have a successor ready to go? How does Pakistan feel?
I know, even with my limited knowledge on Al-Qaida and the terrorist movement, that this so-called war against terror is hardly done. This doesn't mean we're done defending ourselves and our land against the people associated with that man--or all new enemies we don't even know yet. As CIA director Leon Panetta wrote in a memo: "Bin Laden is dead. Al-Qaida is not." In fact, the fear has been this will cause some sort of retaliation. Embassies across the world were already warned and even on my drive to work this morning, I watched a helicopter (probably just monitoring traffic) with suspicion. And there is already debate about whether his "burial at sea" was okay from a Muslim perspective.
Despite the feeling that this death is a good thing for the victims of 9/11 and America (hell, it ain't America's WORST day) and despite the people running and screaming "USA! USA!" in the streets, I sadly thought about what this doesn't mean. His death cannot bring back all the lives lost. His death won't re-erect the towers or bring the people of Flight 93 back. It won't erase any pain or tears. It's just one death after many deaths, a domino but not the last one.
Part of me wishes I could just feel joy and patriotism and it stopped there. But I, like most of the Conservative and Liberal journalist I've been following all day, have to keep going past that. So now in the midst of all those emotions I felt at 1 am this morning, I am watching the news and holding my breath again for the next moment when the President will have to put his game face on again and get in front of that camera.
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