Two years ago, one particular commentary I wrote taught me a
lesson about developing astute analysis under deadline
pressure–and I’ve been a little frustrated about it ever
since.

The piece ran on the front page of my high school’s newspaper on
Sept. 14, 2001, just a few days after terrorists had attacked New
York City and Washington, D.C. In the days between the attacks and
my deadline, I was desperately struggling for a handle on the
story–its gut importance.

Eventually I took what is often the best route: personal
experience. I simply told my Sept. 11 tale, as unimportant as it
was. I had almost beaten back the urge to delve into a serious
stance but a voice in me prodded: Be profound.

So, I included a Yeats quote that had been stuck in my head all
week, the refrain from “Easter 1916”: “All changed, changed
utterly:/A terrible beauty is born.”

I didn’t realize at the time that it was a little
clich�d, but that wouldn’t have mattered so much had I
actually understood the poem–which I didn’t.

I wasn’t even able to nail down what was so terribly beautiful.
The bottom line is it just sounded cool at the time. But now I
think I have a better grasp on what we as Americans living in 2003
can learn from Yeats’ famous poem.

It’s hard to watch what happened on Sept. 11, 2001, and think
the word “beauty” is welcome in the same breath. Yet the beauty
Yeats was talking about when he wrote this poem on the execution of
16 Irish nationals by British officers after an uprising in Dublin,
was the beauty of watershed.

The questionable rebels had been transformed into heroes and all
of Yeats’ (i.e., Ireland’s) qualms with them paled when compared to
the menace of British oppression. It’s basic nationalism–an entire
people united behind one goal: saving their homeland.

I didn’t realize two years ago that anyone could take this poem
and use it to bolster support for president Bush’s war on
terror–well, almost.

Yes, terrorists came to our home soil, but we sort of did it
first. We’re not exactly an occupied people yet. All the same some
may take “Easter 1916” as a call to arms to defend American
ideology (if not territory) around the world–making the earth safe
for democracy and freedom.

Watching those 16 nationals be executed or watching 3,000
Americans die in an act of war on our cities’ streets, there is an
overwhelming feeling that it doesn’t matter what we do now, but
whatever it is, no one will stop us. That is the “terrible
beauty”–the kick in the pants that wakes an entire nation and gets
it moving again.

The big question then is, where are we to go? I think that after
nearly two years of pointing the finger everywhere else, it’s time
we take a good look at ourselves. I know that’s how I felt the day
of the attacks.

I thought it was an atrocious act and I wouldn’t let it happen
if it was my decision, of course (and I don’t think those who
planned it shouldn’t be justly and humanely punished), but part of
me said, “Well, at least people will want to fix this country
now.”

So what’s wrong?

Well, for starters, our real security (not John Ashcroft’s
campaign to lock up all the brown people in America). The Bushes
were in so deep with the Saudis that the FBI wasn’t allowed to
investigate any terrorism links that lead to Saudi Arabia–or any
of its business affiliates. Of course Bush lifted this restriction
after the attacks, but most of the FBI’s suspects had fled the
United States by then.

Beyond that, for a country so interested in deposing tyrants,
the United States has a long history of supporting them with aid,
and, in some cases, even facilitating their coups.

Everyone by now knows that Saddam Hussein was our big buddy in
the Middle East until he nationalized his oil industry and OPEC
nations began losing money. But what about Samuel K. Doe?

He was a low-ranking officer in Liberia’s presidential guard
when in 1980 he executed the president and his Cabinet and declared
himself the new executive. So how did President Reagan react to
this man who disrupted a century and a half of democracy in Liberia
and was set to send the nation into a bloody, 20-year tailspin?
Well, he gave him $500 million (the most aid granted any African
nation) to fight communism in Libya and Angola.

Or what about the man who “compiled one of the most horrendous
records of slaughter, torture, and other abuses of the late 20th
century,” according to Noam Chomsky. Uday and Qusay? No, that’s
Suharto, who launched an army-led, U.S.-backed massacre as he took
power in Indonesia in 1965, and whom the Clinton administration was
still calling “our kind of guy.”

We don’t really hear about these people and other like them
because, well, they sort of give U.S. foreign policy a bad name.
But the people who have made these mistakes in the past are the
ones who today exploit our grief to propel imperialistic foreign
policy agendas.

My challenge to all Americans: Ask yourself honestly why
terrorists attacked us and how you felt we’ve really solved the
problem Sept. 11 highlighted.

If America’s century of bullying the world isn’t part of the
answer, it’s time you hit the books.

Andrew Ivers is a sophomore studying English and political
science.