Monday, May 2, 2011

On the Death of Osama bin Laden

Not too long after the attacks of September 11, 2001, I made a prediction:

The newly branded War on Terror would be unlike any war we fought in the past; it would need to be fought differently, and thus, finding and killing Osama bin Laden, the architect behind the attacks, would not play out in a typical blaze of glory. We'd get him, no doubt about that (we better, for God's sake!), but instead of shock and awe (er, something to that effect), I prophesied, there would be more cloak and dagger involved, things going on behind the scenes, stuff we weren't told about but would have to hope and assume was taking place on our behalf (very much in our name, at the time...), until some dark night any number of months or years in the future, when bin Laden would step out of his mountain cave to light a cigarette, and some black ops agent would creep up behind him and slit his throat, dispatching him with a (fitting) whimper, not a bang.

Doubtless I'm not the only one to have imagined this scenario, or thought this is how it would go down, but in any case, it would seem the prediction - on both counts - turned out fairly accurate. While the War on Terror has taken the form of a 'typical' war in Iraq and Afghanistan, it has also played out in atypical venues, relied more than once on the help of civilians acting in the finest tradition of the Flight 93 heroes in the skies over Pennsylvania by taking matters into their own hands at certain key moments. Ordinary people who remain vigilant - not paranoid, but vigilant, and unafraid to take action - have become unexpected and much-appreciated combatants in this war.

As for bin Laden's death, there too I was partially correct: it wasn't quite the 'dark night/slit throat' scenario I predicted, but it wasn't a blaze of glory either (in the sense of armies marching toward one another)...it was a concise 'surgical strike' by a reportedly small team of U.S. Special Forces who came undercover of night. And this, after months (and years) of surveillance, interrogations and wire tapping, watching and waiting - with the patience of Job - for the right moment.

Truly astonishing, I'd say, that this operation, which had its roots as far back as last August, was not leaked. Not a word in fact, in this day and age when beans are spilled at the speed of light. That's testament to something...not sure what, but I'm glad for it nevertheless. American forces could have easily swooped down on this Pakistani compound to find bin Laden had already caught wind of their arrival and flown the coop.

But that's not what happened. We got the bastard, and as vividly as I remember September 11th, I will always remember hearing the news last night. I will always remember my cell phone 'blowing up' in a manner it usually doesn't - a barrage of staccato, headline-type texts announcing the news ('Bin Laden dead' or 'They got him', followed by numerous exclamation points), and passing those texts along to others. I will always remember diving headlong into a flurry of fast-fingered analysis and conjecture with certain people on my contact list about what went down, what it means and what will happen in the future; amidst this, feeling that my thumbs weren't adequately keeping up in real time like they should. One of my kids called me to relay the news, and that, in my mind and heart, felt as heady - as in, and of, the moment - as it must have felt for people at the Phillies-Mets game, where news of the death swept through the crowd in a similar flurry of Facebook posts and Twitter tweets, causing them to erupt into an impromptu chant of 'U.S.A! U.S.A!"

It was during this initial hullabaloo that I remembered, with a short exhale of breath, my own piece of 9/11 memorablia: a mock 'Wanted' poster, depicting bin Laden with a shooter's target directly between his eyes. Above it, the unequivocal affirmation, Wanted: Dead or Alive. Happy Hunting!

It was just a cheap freebie being handed out at a convenience store in autumn 2001, issued, like countless other similarly patriotic-themed items across the country at the time, by an outfit called Sherwood Targets. Not the kind of item I would otherwise bother with (in that I generally don't bother with any free stuff) but I made an exception. I had to. I needed something then; needed a way to express myself as an American. Reeling from an uneasy combination of fearful vulnerability and righteous indignation, I needed to feel part of the collective outrage.

The poster has hung somewhere in my house ever since; on the refrigerator for a number of years, but recently in my office on a cork board. Over time it's slowly started to yellow, curled around the edges a bit from constant exposure to a decade's worth of home elements, from sunlight through the window to spilled coffee to being rolled up, transported to a new town and set up in a new home.

But I've never taken it down. Through all the changes in my life and American life since 2001, all the fractious debate over Iraq, over Afghanistan, over geo-politics the world over, even as time wandered on and off, and Osama seemed to drift into the background of U.S. foreign policy and our national debate, even when it was wondered by many - by most, perhaps - if we would ever catch him - the poster remained on display, a symbolic affirmation of resolve for the only goal that really mattered: get bin Laden. Find him, and either capture him or kill him. One of the two. I intended to keep the poster up until the news came, as it did last evening, that one of these had been achieved.

The realization that I can now take the poster down (and should, in keeping with the pageantry, the symbolism) brings with it a strange bouquet of emotions.

The response to bin Laden's death has been - that I can see - understandably jubilant, but duly cautious as well. Everyone seems to know it's not over. The War on Terror will continue. In fact, it could get worse as bin Laden is turned into a martyr amongst his ilk, those bent on a) corrupting the interpretation of their holy script, b) hating America for no good reason. Bin Laden's death is a symbolic victory at best.

But if you believe life is, at best, a series of moments to be savored, this is definitely one.

Just sip slowly.




DEAD.