On Sept. 11, almost 6,000 people died in New York, Washington and Pennsylvania. America was shocked. America was outraged. America was rightfully stricken with the unimaginable grief of having lost so many friends, relatives and fellow countrymen.
But on that same Tuesday, 6,000 people also died in Africa, the victims not of extremist terror but of AIDS. And then the next day, 6,000 more Africans succumbed to that same disease. In fact, every day this year in Africa, AIDS kills 6,000 people--innocent people. Just as innocent as every single businessperson, maintenance worker, firefighter, secretary, passenger and tourist who perished Sept. 11 in the United States. Just as innocent as the thousands of Iraqi children starving to death each month as a result of economic sanctions and a military dictator who they did not even choose. And then there are the thousands of Israelis and Palestinians caught in the crossfire of a religious conflict that has been waged for centuries. These are all innocent victims, living in places where innocence doesn't matter in the end.
But is America outraged? Do the people living the Mecca of freedom, liberty and justice rally around the memories of those who are sacrificed everyday around the world? Do Americans flock to the International Red Cross to donate blood for people living through war-torn hell in Bosnia or Chechnya? Do we hold candlelight prayer vigils for those suffering at the hands of tyrannical governments? Do we even talk about these things?
The answer is no. The vast majority of the American people haven't done any of these things--at least, we hadn't done them until Sept. 11. We felt no outrage until the tragedy struck in our backyards, to people who look and talk like us. So we went into action, trying to do whatever we could to ease the pain and shock of such huge losses of fellow Americans. And while we did this, messages of condolence and sympathy arrived from dozens of nations who realized that tragedy is not confined by political borders but is extended by the belief that the people of every country, every color, every custom and every lifestyle all belong to the same nation in the end: humankind. Injustice and murder plague the human race every day, but for some reason America was not outraged until the day tragedy and terror climbed over her fence and into view.
But in a strange way, it's comforting to be outraged once in a while. It means that the horror of Sept. 11 is not an everyday occurrence and that our senses have not been dulled by routine violence on U.S. soil as deadly as the attacks a month ago. We have the luxury of getting angry and calling for immediate action to achieve justice rather than having to accept thousands of fatalities with no possibility of justice as a fact of life.
The most important thing the events of Sept. 11 should teach us isn't that the Federal Aviation Administration should ban steak knives from in-flight meal trays or that the stars and stripes is still a symbol of hope for Americans or that the United States should rethink its foreign policies. The most important thing we average Americans can learn is how nice we really have it.
We live in a country that hasn't seen military conflict on its mainland since 1865. We don't go to bed wondering if a shell is going to fall on our roof. We can sit back in our dorms or in classrooms and talk about how evil Osama bin Laden is and not have to worry about a missile rocketing through the window. We can sit and eat lunch and not be burdened with the knowledge that more than a quarter of the people living in our state are stricken with AIDS. We are free to enjoy safe, happy, prosperous lives in the greatest nation on earth while others live in fear, danger and dismal poverty across the oceans.
I'm not trying to say that the attack on the United States wasn't a tragedy. I'm also not suggesting that everyone who lives in America should wear a permanent cloak of depression and grief for those who suffer each day. There is no reason to feel guilty about living in the United States; rather, U.S. citizens should have a sense of pride and responsibility. This is by no means a call to action; this is a call to the realization that other people have it so much worse than we do that our position in the world prohibits us from even comprehending their problems.
Realize that things for us are not as bad as they seem. Yes, we are in a war on terrorism, which includes a war on Afghanistan. Yes, it is unsettling to think that our soldiers are risking their lives on the other side of the world to ensure our security inside the U.S. border. But we don't live in Afghanistan, and we don't have to suffer through a persistent civil war, an oppressive government and bombs raining down from airplanes that cost almost as much as our country's gross domestic product. We live in the United States of America, where we can sit on our couches and watch these things on television.
So next time you get a D on a test, your fake ID gets snatched or that girl in your political science class turns down a date, step back and ask yourself, "Is it really the end of the world?"
I'll give you a hint: the answer is no.
Andrew Rothman is a Trinity sophomore and associate editorial page editor of The Chronicle.
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