Date: 18/09/2001
Nostalgia, as they say, ain't what it used to be. Classically, the feeling of nostalgia came when you harked back with affection to the way things were five, 10, 20 and more years ago. For the past few days, however, I - like everyone else, I'm sure - have had an overwhelming nostalgia for the way things were before last Tuesday night.
I remember and hunger for the olden days when every morning's newspapers were not covered with talk of death, destruction and war. I didn't appreciate it at the time, but I realise how special it was to be able to look at the beloved contours of our city's skyline, Centrepoint Tower, the Opera House, the Harbour Bridge, without wondering what it would be like to see, in the space of an hour, those symbolic constructions disappear with perhaps 5,000 of our friends and loved ones blown apart in the rubble. I had no idea, until this week, what a precious thing it was to be able to turn on the radio every morning without fearing I would hear some words along the lines of "bombs are raining down on Kabul".
Nor did I have any idea what a privilege it was to be able to look at my kids and have confidence that the immediate world in which they were going to grow up would be a reasonably stable and sane place.
Just where the world goes to from here no-one knows amid all the confusion. But for what it's worth, here are the few things I am certain of at the moment.
Firstly, and most crucially, all the American talk of launching a conventional attack on Afghanistan, with bombs and occupying ground troops and all the rest, is complete madness. Lest anyone miss the point, the New York atrocity was not launched by a conventional army that can be attacked in kind, but by just 19 men with razors, rage and an unspeakable, limitless hate. All the Bush presidential bravado aside, the question must be: can anyone "win" a war against what is not, after all, a country or a people, but just a shadowy and evil movement? Can any massive commitment of troops, men, money and muscle ever quell the core of such an ephemeral cult, or can it only heighten the hate that essentially did all the damage in the first place?
I feel nothing but rage and loathing for the evil bastards who launched and organised the attacks on New York and Washington, but it is the hate that powered them that is the key. Norman Mailer has been quoted in the New York press saying that Americans must come to grips with why so much of the world hates them so much; that, too, surely has to be a fruitful line of inquiry.
In the meantime, it is for countries such as Australia to counsel calm above all else. While standing united beside America in its time of greatest need, let us also stand against any foolish and bloody military action that will only push the world closer to the cliff of complete chaos. Yes, go after the perpetrators of this hideous deed, but let it be after those perpetrators alone and not simply those who look like they are close enough - for that way lies madness.
We all have the example of Northern Ireland before us: an intractable battle between two opposing groups, each with opposing religious certitudes, fighting for decade after bloody decade with pipe bombs and grenades with no clear result bar misery.
A global version of that is what must be avoided at all costs, particularly when the weaponry will be much more devastating than mere pipe bombs.
Here in Australia, meantime, let us form up beneath the banner of the song: "I am, you are, we are Australian."
Let us remain Australians, and not, repeat not start sorting each other by skin colour, religion or ethnicity. Again, that way lies madness. We must all condemn in the strongest possible terms the attack last week on a church in Sydney's west, with the daubing of swastikas and all the rest, including an attempted fire bombing, and such things as the apparent stoning of a bus bearing Muslim schoolchildren in Brisbane. And let the leaders of Australia's Muslim communities also shout from the rooftops what is surely the truth: that the killing of innocents in the manner of New York breaks every precept of Islam.
"I am, you are, we are Australian." These are tough times, and perhaps we really are in trenches of a kind. But, at the very least, let us stick together in those trenches ... the way they taught us to.
pfitzsimons@smh.com.au
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