This theme probably first appeared in the movie Saving Private Ryan, with its graphic opening scenes of the slaughter at Omaha Beach and its central tale of the rescue of one American soldier somewhere behind enemy lines after his three brothers had already perished fighting the fascists. There followed a series of historical tributes in book form, including two "Greatest Generation" works from NBC Nightly News presenter Tom Brokaw. An HBO TV series called "Band of Brothers" followed, about one unit of American paratroopers fighting from Normandy all the way to Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest to liberate the Reich - itself derived from yet another World War II history book, and still playing on American TV screens in its original version in late September, 2001. Meanwhile, by way of contrast June 2001’s best-selling book Affluenza painted an ugly picture of present-day America, focused on private wealth rather than the public good, suffering from "a painful, contagious, socially-transmitted condition of overload, debt, anxiety and waste resulting from the dogged pursuit of more" - in short, everything that that "Greatest Generation" was not.
Thus, when the terrible events of September 11 occurred, America had a ready-made script for what would happen next. Here at last an adversary had suddenly sprung up which was equal in its brutality and intimidation to the Japanese militarists and European fascists of sixty years ago! So mobilize the armed forces, and send all young people to the nearest recruiting stations - we finally have an opportunity to demonstrate that we really are worthy of our grandparents!
President Bush’s early willingness after the tragedy to respond with talk of "war" - "the first war of the 21st century" - was itself perhaps an understandable reaction to the terrible destruction of the attacks on New York City and Washington, an emotional expression of the national anger. But for a country which had been already been engaged for months in serious public introspection over World War II, the result was to elevate a December 1941 perspective on these events into unquestioned dogma, and to set loose an unstoppable military process. Even as this is essay is being written, the ultimatums have been issued, and rejected and the combat aircraft and troops are on their way; by the time it is published, someone in a foreign land will surely have already been targeted, bombed, and/or raided.
Yet nagging questions remain, to those still inclined to reflect upon what is happening, even as the warplanes fly eastward. What is our strategy? What is our objective? To what degree, if any, are we permitted to kill or injure innocent people in its pursuit? Clearly, the capture or destruction of Osama Bin Laden and his Al-Qaeda terrorist network is ultimately our aim, but what if that is just not possible, or will exact too high a price? Is there in fact "too high a price"?
Historical metaphors are powerful tools to help a society come to grips with questions such as these; clearly, the predominate one in this situation is that of Pearl Harbor. But generals, the military historians always tell us, are always ready to re-fight the last war and therefore seldom well-prepared to fight the next one, which is inevitably different in important respects. What happened on September 11 was different from Pearl Harbor. Although both occasions were surprise attacks which killed thousands of Americans, the Japanese did what they did for a very clear purpose, namely to cripple the US Pacific fleet. On the other hand, their planes did not target Honolulu itself (situated very close to the Pearl Harbor anchorage) to kill innocent, non-military-target American civilians, either as an initial or a follow-on objective. Plus, they were after all the Japanese: doing what they did in the service of, and bearing the military insignia of, a well-defined and recognized sovereign state, with which the United States could and did immediately go to war.
Consider instead the hijackings and suicide-airliner attacks on office buildings in New York and Washington: There was no clear, utilitarian purpose, other than to attack what probably were perceived as American symbols and to terrify and kill horribly as many as possible of what were certainly innocent victims (and by no means all Americans). These deeds were done not in the name of a state, but rather by a network of individuals with common ideological goals, a common burning hatred, most of whose names are only slowly coming to light, one by one, as the investigation continues. They served no state - do not call them "soldiers." Would not the term "criminals" be more appropriate instead? And would not then the example of the 1993 bombing of the federal building in Oklahoma City by Timothy McVeigh and accomplices provide a more apt metaphor by which to understand the whole affair and what we should do about it?
McVeigh’s act was not an act of suicide - he lived on, and so by being captured, tried, and executed provided one more case-study for humanity to consider of how feebly and insufficiently putting anyone to death, or any group of people to death, can "set right" or "atone" for mass murder (as if the Nuremburg trials had not been example enough). But supposed he had not been captured; suppose he had fled the country. Then the US would rightly have sternly demanded that the state in which he was taking refuge promptly deliver him back. But what if he had managed to get to a state in the middle of a civil war, a wild, rugged, and mountainous state where the tenuous reach of government authorities in any case could not be counted upon to find him, capture him, and deliver him? What if he managed to get to Afghanistan? That then might conceivably justify the violation of Afghan national sovereignty by special forces troops inserted to take care of this capture themselves. But would that justify any civilians in that dysfunctional, poverty-stricken country being harmed - or even its government or military personnel?
The military historian Martin van Creveld writes persuasively about the increasing irrelevance of traditional military forces at the dawn of the 21st century. Serious wars between major states (affairs for those "Greatest Generations" to fight and win) don’t happen anymore now that there are nuclear weapons. Instead, the incidence of conflict has shifted down the scale to rebellions, insurgencies, terrorism, and sheer criminal acts, for which nuclear weapons are useless because there is no meaningful target to hit. This new paradigm is easy to see in Van Creveld’s native Israel. The Jewish state has built for itself a nuclear advantage over all its Arab neighbors, and certainly over the Palestinians, yet that fact hasn’t been able to do much to prevent life there since September, 2000, from becoming increasingly violent and nerve-racking.
It also casts useful light on the question of what to do about the attacks of September 11 - or rather, what should have been done, as the answer likely lies mostly in adequate prevention beforehand, and simply apprehension and prosecution, where possible, once the deed is done. But not "war." We should remember that terrorism is but another ugly, anti-social means for gaining objectives, not a sovereign state; if we think we can go to war against it, we might as well declare war on burglary while we are at it. Just like burglars, terrorists have been around for a long time in the past (just think of the wave of anarchist assassinations around the turn of the 19th/20th centuries, for example), and they are likely to be around far into the future - although this doesn’t have to mean that they are successful terrorists. What has changed is that modern technology has given them much more powerful weapons with which to do their damage - meaning that we are now in the era of the X-ray scanner, the ID check, and the bag inspection, and not of the foreign crusade. The sooner we all realize this the better.