A nation forever changed

By PHILIP GAILEY

© St. Petersburg Times,
published September 23, 2001

In one horrifying moment, terrorists have changed America -- its politics, its culture, its values, its economy, its people. It will be months, even years, before we really know how much has changed, and whether the changes will all be for the better. The images of terror will be forever vivid in our minds, but the shock and anger will eventually give way to something resembling normalcy, although we can't be sure what that will feel like. For now, we are a wounded nation seeking succor in comforting rituals and reassuring words. We are at war, but no longer with each other.

In Washington, it's as if someone suddenly hit the mute button. Democrats and Republicans have sheathed their political swords and rallied behind the president, who commands the moment. Last year's disputed presidential election is finally over, and George W. Bush is the undisputed winner. No further recounts needed. Politics is out of sight but not out of mind. Democrats are no longer confident of regaining control of the House or even holding their slim Senate majority in next year's elections. They are toning down their fundraising letters and trying to imagine what the political landscape will look like in 2004, when Bush is up for re-election. For the moment, Bush is politically untouchable. Democrats are at the mercy of events.

U.S. Sen. Hillary Clinton, D-N.Y., had better hope that New York City Mayor Rudy Giuliani does not decide to challenge her in 2006. Right now Giuliani is the most celebrated -- and transformed -- politician in the nation. His performance in this crisis has been flawless. New Yorkers suddenly revere their mayor and don't want him to go. There has even been talk of repealing a term-limit law that kept him from seeking re-election.

In Florida, where Democrats are gunning for Gov. Jeb Bush, next year's election was supposed to be payback time. Democrats are still bitter over Florida's disputed -- and decisive -- presidential vote, and they are determined to make the governor pay a heavy political price for his brother's victory. But now that won't be so easy. The current public mood could make it difficult for Democrats to wage a full-throated campaign against the governor. Floridians could see one of the most civil and subdued political debates in recent history.

On Friday, Pete Peterson, potentially Jeb Bush's strongest Democratic challenger, withdrew from the primary race, saying he believes there are better ways for him to serve his state and country in this time of crisis. Peterson came to the race with the perfect resume for these patriotic times -- former congressman, former Air Force pilot, former prisoner of war in Vietnam and the first post-war U. S. ambassador to Vietnam. Former U.S. Attorney General Janet Reno, the most controversial contender, continues to hold the frontrunner title, and centrist Democrats are left without a horse in the primary race (maybe they should take a closer look at Bill McBride).

The aftershocks from the events on Sept. 11 also are being felt across the nation's cultural landscape.

Lee Greenwood's "I'm Proud to Be An American" is back, the most requested song on radio, our second national anthem. Our new heroes are police and firefighters -- not athletes and superstars. School children are praying, and no one is objecting. Our churches are full, and religion, for a change, is uniting Americans, not dividing them -- with one despicable exception. While most Americans were coming together, the Revs. Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson saw the terrorist attack on America as another opportunity to sow division. God, Falwell said, had lifted his "curtain" of protection on our nation because he was fed up with the American Civil Liberties Union, abortion providers, gay rights advocates and other secular forces. Robertson concurred. It was a new low for this pair. After a presidential rebuke, Falwell apologized for his remarks. Some things, of course, will never change.

Even Hollywood has gotten religion and appears to be turning away from some of its old ways -- at least temporarily. Moviemakers are delaying the release of their latest crop of films keyed to terrorism and violence, the staple of the movie industry in recent years and Hollywood's chief export to the rest of the world. Maybe the movie industry realized that Americans have enough of the real thing -- or just concluded that violence is bad business in this painful time. The makers of video games also are pulling back some of their most violent -- and most popular -- games. No doubt some youngsters confused the first television images of the attack on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon with a video game. Even the resumption of college and pro football is different. The New York Times reported last week that the games are subdued and patriotic, with producers muting or eliminating "percussive graphics, blaring music and animated football robots."

If violence is on hold, so is humor. The late-night television comics gave up their time slots for network news specials for the first week after the terrorist attack. There was nothing funny to say, certainly not at the expense of the president. When David Letterman returned to the air, the mood in the studio was somber and sober. In his monologue, Letterman saluted Mayor Giuliani and wound up holding the hand of weary CBS News anchor Dan Rather, who broke down in tears in describing his feelings.

There has even been a change in tone on newspaper editorial pages. Those pages are not the free-fire zone they were before Sept. 11. Now they're more like a mine field. Columnists are choosing their words carefully, and even the most ferocious editorial cartoonists have become flag-waving patriots. Their cartoons could be on war bond posters.

The nation's chattering class has not escaped judgment. In the latest issue of Time magazine, essayist Roger Rosenblatt wrote that the "age of irony" ended on Sept. 11, 2001. He does not try to conceal his contempt for the nation's intellectual and cultural elite.

Rosenblatt writes: "One good thing could come from this horror: It could spell the end of the age of irony. For some 30 years -- roughly as long as the twin towers were upright -- the good folks in charge of America's intellectual life have insisted that nothing was to be believed or taken seriously. Nothing was real. With a giggle and a smirk, our chattering classes -- our columnists and pop culture makers -- declared that detachment and personal whimsy were the necessary tools for an oh-so-cool life. Who but a slobbering bumpkin would think, 'I feel your pain'? The ironists, seeing through everything, made it difficult for anyone to see through anything. The consequence of thinking that nothing is real -- apart from prancing around in an air of vain stupidity -- is that one will not know the difference between a joke and a menace. No more."

Yes, the nation has changed, and it will keep changing. The surge of patriotism will in time ebb, and Democrats will at some point have to start acting like the political opposition again. We will adjust to the new burdens of air travel, and fear will not forever keep tourists from ascending to the top of the Empire State Building. The economy will recover, and the chattering class will be back to chattering. We'll be just fine, and maybe we'll come out of this nightmare as a stronger, more civil, more united and more generous nation. If that is how it ends, then the terrorists will have lost big-time.

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