U.S. `decadence' another ugly myth

21 September 2001

"The day the world changed" is the endlessly repeated cliche, the new shorthand for a maelstrom.

Good thing too, say some.

For the America before Sept. 11 was not a nation they liked. It was, wrote Boston Globe columnist Derrick Jackson, "obviously decadent," a country of "conspicuous opulence and vastly disproportionate consumption of world resources."

From the Rev. Jerry Falwell on the right come claims that "God allow(ed) the enemies of America to give us probably what we deserve."

Among the letters to the editor printed last week was one that called the attacks "the predictable result of American policy," and another that called it retribution for "all (the) crimes committed by the United States in the 20th century."

In fact, there's almost a sense of delight in the cataclysm, a feeling of good riddance. It's "the end of decadence," says Dan Kennedy in the Phoenix. "The easiest, sleaziest, richest, most meaningless decade we've yet known has come to an end."

If true, if in fact the America of the past is no more, you won't find me joining in the celebration. For the country they loathe is not one I recognize. The nation I knew was one to respect, one to like.

I liked that we lived in a country of striking diversity, with peoples from far more and varied lands than any other nation in the world. I liked the way we encouraged immigrants to these shores, relishing the energy they brought to our national mosaic. I liked that we grappled with ethnic, religious and racial divisions, confronting them and learning to live and work with one another. I liked that we genuinely believed each person should have the opportunity to do whatever he or she wanted.

I liked that our cities were alive and thriving. I liked their hubris and dynamism, the way we built skyscrapers that reached for the sky while still making our cities into decent and safe places to live. I liked the chaos of art, music, dance, theater and film that gave rise to a uniquely American culture.

I liked that America celebrated business and entrepreneurship. I liked the way our economy seemed propelled by new ideas and new ways of thinking. I liked the attitude of adventure, the fascination with the new. I liked that adults knew how to work but also loved to play. I liked the spirit of creativity, risk and intellectual inquisitiveness that was giving this country, and indeed the entire world, new ways of solving some of our oldest problems.

I liked that we felt safe and comfortable, that we did not fear the unknown. I liked the ease with which we communicated and traveled. I liked that people could live where they wanted yet know that it was as easy as a modem, a fax or an airplane to visit distant friends or work for companies located hundreds of miles away.

I liked that we were a nation uniquely founded on a philosophy that celebrated the individual. I liked the way we cherished freedom and privacy, the way we settled our differences through the ballot box, a self-governing people who tried to bridge disagreements with compromises that respected one another. I liked the way we accorded extraordinary value to the worth of each human life.

I liked that we believed those values were fundamental and that our foreign policy, really since the First World War, was grounded in the notion that what some called the American Way - democracy, freedom and respect for human rights - was worth extending to all who lived on this planet.

I liked that we supported Israel, the only democratic nation in the Middle East.

All these things I liked and I wonder: Where in all of this is the decadence?

If, as they say, we were a decadent nation, then among the dead there should be some who deserve that epithet. Yet, every day I read the seemingly unending obituaries and see lives of extraordinary accomplishment and heartbreaking promise. I learn of people who loved deeply and were loved in return, people who - in New York, Washington and on United Flight 93, which crashed in Pennsylvania - literally sacrificed their lives so that others might live.

I look and I find no decadent among the dead. And if they - chosen randomly, victims of only place and circumstance - are not decadent, then, I think, neither are those they left behind.

The day the world changed? Sure, America had its challenges. A nation of flawed human beings, it made its share of mistakes. But it never forgot the language of its conception: that we each have the right to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." To many, if not most, in the world, it represented a beacon of hope, not decadence, a place to admire, not hate.

I liked this America. It doesn't need to change.