The forging of a sacred bond

Let's face it, America's not always the nicest neighbor to have lurking around. From an expansionist McDonald's to environmental walkouts to the missile shield, all coupled with a certain American hubris, the rest of the world has cause to grumble a bit. And grumble they have. Any American who has traveled abroad has encountered a certain amount of cynicism and resentment from foreigners.

But after the shock of the attack on American soil, another shock of a far more pleasant nature followed: the warmth and sincerity of the international response. Gone were the antagonism and rancor from (most of) the world. Part of the international expression of sympathy stemmed both from the deaths of some of their own citizens and from the sudden realization of their own vulnerability. Yet the sincerity of their grief indicated true solidarity and real sympathy.

Take France, for example. You don't need to have spent much time in that country to discover that the French do not have the rosiest view of the United States. Indeed, they have openly been quite resentful of American international actions and often seem to take the opposite stance on issues merely to be contrarian. A poll taken after the September 11th attack, though, indicates that 96 percent of the French support the Americans. On the New York Times website you can flip through powerful images of citizens across the world praying and mourning, stopping their cars in the middle of the road to honor moments of silence, pausing in the midst of the usual hubbub to hold a candle and remember the American victims. One e-mail I received from a French friend, Pascal Diovada, in florid and poetic language (unfortunately lost in my translation) was particularly poignant:

"Today, at noon, France was in mourning. A respectful silence replaced the daily brouhaha. It was very impressive and deeply moving. All the French reacted in a manner I did not expect: united, Parisians on our soil spontaneously supported the Americans with gestures, with friendly support — both psychological and physical. In short, a sacred bond established itself between our two countries. France has silenced its differences with the great American people during such challenges which now face us and remembers the thousands of Americans who died on the beaches of Normandy and the battlefields in France to save us from certain extinction — which permits me to write to you today. You are in all my thoughts, and if I can help you in any way whatsoever, it would be an honor."

His words do not merely constitute elegant emptiness: the actions from across the oceans indicate that mustering international support will not prove as difficult as I had at first feared. The real challenge, though, has revealed itself: how to maintain unity on the national front.

Before the dust of the Twin Towers had settled, the finger-pointing had started. The CIA is incompetent, Bush should have returned to Washington, DC, Cheney looked weak, America was paying the price for its sins . . . Columnists for the nation's leading newspapers would do best to keep their mud-slinging quiet for awhile. For once I don't want to hear a criticism of the administration or a lame analysis of how Bush needs to appear like a leader. We all have more important things to consider.

We must admit that throughout the life of this young nation the international community has taught us a few things, and once again it seems we have a lesson to learn. Just as countries around the world have discarded their differences and risen in our support, we must toss off the differences amongst ourselves to uphold this nation, its citizens and its leaders. The terrorists are surely betting that America, suffering from a plurality of opinions, political parties, motivations and desires, will be internally divided and incapable of a strong response. We must prove them wrong if there is to be any hope of effective and appropriate action. Nathan Arrington is an art and archaeology major from Westport, CT. He can be reached at arington@princeton.edu.