If you want to get a feel for how bolshy America is feeling at the moment check out these two columns. The first appeared in the New York Post on September 21 and reflects the go-it-alone rhetoric that will greet any questioning of the American response by the world community. And the second is from the Miami Herald on the day after the attacks which demonstrate the passion and anger from a super-power that has been aroused.


Rupert Murdoch’s New York Post

September 21, 2001 — IT’S time for the United Nations to get the hell out of town. And take with it CNN war slut Christiane Amanpour. Also, short ABC comedian Bill “those bombers were brave” Maher. More on that in a sec.

The UN building towers over the East River like a giant middle finger aimed at our shores. The once-shiny beacon of peace has devolved into a cancer, where all manner of anti-American lunacy is hatched.

Today, the UN functions as an international megaphone through which every Third World dictatorship vents its fury at our way of life. Though technically not on American soil, the United Nations clogs our city like sewage.

It lustily sucks up our police, our water, our sanitation services while its personnel jam city streets by parking illegally, and break all manner of traffic and criminal law with a get-out-of-jail-free card known as diplomatic immunity.

Now, the United Nations is serving yet another function: It has become the quietest place on earth. Since two planes toppled the World Trade Center in a fiery blast of terror, the United Nations has been mute.

Where are the diplomats we housed and fed, whose transgressions we excused, whose libels we endured, now that the nearby turf is in ruins?

Oh, yes, Secretary General Kofi Annan has been on television in a hard hat, grabbing network face time by glancing, moist-eyed, at the ruins of the Twin Towers.

But where are the resolutions? The outrage? The deep, heartfelt expressions of regret? Not here. Not now. And certainly not for us.

So, the United Nations doesn’t like this nation? Fine. Don’t let the door hit you on the butt as you get the hell out. Go home to your police states and smarmy European capitals.

“The UN provides cover almost the same way the Taliban does,” observes Harvey Kushner, an author and terrorism expert.

“It serves as the laboratory, the linchpin for legitimizing incendiary rhetoric,” Kushner said.

Following the initial shock, America-bashing, I’m distressed to report, is going full throttle. And not just in the foreign media – though there’s plenty of that – but right here, at home, in the guise of “analysis.”

Explaining why the Arab world hates us, CNN’s Amanpour spewed her bias in a live conversation with news blonde Paula Zahn:

“The issue of the United States’ close alliance with Israel, the perception that the United States does not care as much about the suffering of Muslims in Palestine, in what they call Palestine, is a key reason for the anti-Americanism on the rise in the Middle East.”

I wonder what her Jewish in-laws think.

Short comedian Bill Maher was even more rabid.

On “Politically Incorrect,” Maher declared the United States cowardly for “lobbing cruise missiles from 2,000 miles away” at Iraq. In the next breath, he praised the bravery of the trade center bombers.

“Staying in the airplane when it hits the building, say what you want about it, it’s not cowardly,” gushed Maher.

He later insisted our government is cowardly, not our soldiers. Thanks.

The truth is the monsters who attacked us hate not just the United States and Israel. They hate wealthy Saudi Arabia. They hate non-fundamentalist Muslims. They treat women like slaves, children like property, and dream of romping with virgins in paradise.

Everyone with a gripe against Israel or America has joined the orgy in the guise of “analysis.” Analyze this, you bastards.


This column by African-American Leonard Pitts appeared in the Miami Herald on September 12 and is one of the best columns reflecting the raw anger and passion that is flowing:

We’ll go forward from this moment

It’s my job to have something to say.

They pay me to provide words that help make sense of that which troubles the American soul. But in this moment of airless shock when hot tears sting disbelieving eyes, the only thing I can find to say, the only words that seem to fit, must be addressed to the unknown author of this suffering. You monster. You beast. You unspeakable bastard.

What lesson did you hope to teach us by your coward’s attack on our World Trade Center, our Pentagon, us? What was it you hoped we would learn? Whatever it was, please know that you failed.

Did you want us to respect your cause? You just damned your cause.

Did you want to make us fear? You just steeled our resolve.

Did you want to tear us apart? You just brought us together.

Let me tell you about my people. We are a vast and quarrelsome family, a family rent by racial, social, political and class division, but a family nonetheless. We’re frivolous, yes, capable of expending tremendous emotional energy on pop cultural minutiae — a singer’s revealing dress, a ball team’s misfortune, a cartoon mouse.

We’re wealthy, too, spoiled by the ready availability of trinkets and material goods, and maybe because of that, we walk through life with a certain sense of blithe entitlement. We are fundamentally decent, though — peace-loving and compassionate. We struggle to know the right thing and to do it. And we are, the overwhelming majority of us, people of faith, believers in a just and loving God.

Some people — you, perhaps — think that any or all of this makes us weak. You’re mistaken. We are not weak. Indeed, we are strong in ways that cannot be measured by arsenals.


Yes, we’re in pain now. We are in mourning and we are in shock. We’re still grappling with the unreality of the awful thing you did, still working to make ourselves understand that this isn’t a special effect from some Hollywood blockbuster, isn’t the plot development from a Tom Clancy novel.

Both in terms of the awful scope of their ambition and the probable final death toll, your attacks are likely to go down as the worst acts of terrorism in the history of the United States and, probably, the history of the world. You’ve bloodied us as we have never been bloodied before.

But there’s a gulf of difference between making us bloody and making us fall.

This is the lesson Japan was taught to its bitter sorrow the last time anyone hit us this hard, the last time anyone brought us such abrupt and monumental pain.

When roused, we are righteous in our outrage, terrible in our force.

When provoked by this level of barbarism, we will bear any suffering, pay any cost, go to any length, in the pursuit of justice.

I tell you this without fear of contradiction. I know my people, as you, I think, do not. What I know reassures me. It also causes me to tremble with dread of the future. In the days to come, there will be recrimination and accusation, fingers pointing to determine whose failure allowed this to happen and what can be done to prevent it from happening again. There will be heightened security, misguided talk of revoking basic freedoms. We’ll go forward from this moment sobered, chastened, sad. But determined, too. Unimaginably determined.


You see, the steel in us is not always readily apparent. That aspect of our character is seldom understood by people who don’t know us well. On this day, the family’s bickering is put on hold. As Americans we will weep, as Americans we will mourn, and as Americans, we will rise in defense of all that we cherish.

So I ask again: What was it you hoped to teach us?

It occurs to me that maybe you just wanted us to know the depths of your hatred. If that’s the case, consider the message received.

And take this message in exchange: You don’t know my people. You don’t know what we’re capable of. You don’t know what you just started.

But you’re about to learn.

Peter Fray

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