Against Indignation

This morning I read Curt's thoughtful piece reflecting on the news of Osama bin Laden's death and how the news was received in various demonstrations across the country. I respectfully disagreed with some of his points--and I wanted to say a few words in defense of the spontaneous displays of jubilation. I was at the gathering in front of the White House early Monday morning, having meandered downtown to check it out. A few things about the energy in the crowd that night moved me. Nearly everyone there was college-aged. They arrived in groups, bringing with them their Twitter-fed smart phones and an impressive number of American flags. Some were running--not walking--to the President's House, so as not to miss a thing. And passing motorists, semi- and fire-truck drivers, honked their horns in various celebratory tones. The smell of victory cigars even wafted through the balmy huddles. They came, I think, because it was a historic moment in their (possibly adoptive) hometown, a moment for Washingtonians as much as for Americans. As in many cities across the country, they were cheering, singing. “Let’s go America!” they chanted. “Hey hey hey . . . goodbye!” they belted out in unison. For a brief moment, I wondered whether some of the congregants might be too young to have really understood the concept of “terrorism” when the attacks of September 11 took place almost ten years ago. I was just 18 years old myself at that time, a college student in Manhattan. But then again, I thought, everyone gathered at the White House had spent those last ten years living in the post-9/11 world, and no doubt some of them have loved ones who are serving in our armed forces. They had no less of a right to experience the moment than anyone else. But a lot of recent commentary--not just Curt's piece--has expressed disapproval of the crowds' elation. One particularly popular tweet was a cynical statistical meme about how many years we've spent, how many wars we've fought, and how many lives and dollars we've squandered, just to bring down One Osama bin Laden. "Big whoop," it seems to snark. People also made up [update: mangled] a Martin Luther King quote to express a sentiment they wanted to amplify: that "rejoic[ing]" in the death of one person, even an enemy, is flat wrong. And several writers have issued instructions, as did the Pope, on how the day should have been experienced: People should have kept it somber, serious, in full recognition of the existential heft that so obviously attaches to the event. But here's the thing: The detractors seem to think the crowds' cheer is a blood-lusty cry that mimics none other than bin Laden's M.O. and his exultation in the death of the innocents he terms "infidels." Yet that just doesn't seem quite right--at least not basing it on what I took from the crowd I saw. The White-House group's elation in hearing about the end of the life that was responsible, directly or indirectly, for the loss of so many others--the death of a person who had so long eluded any sort of reckoning for his acts--seemed nothing more than the expression of a simple human sentiment: relief. Relief expressed in patriotic flag-waving and "Team America" theme-song chanting, sure. Was some of it silly? Yeah, probably. But not one person I saw in front of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue Monday morning was smugly declaring "mission accomplished" or cheering for Bin Laden's death itself, rather than his defeat. There may have been "unbridled euphoria" (as one critic put it) in the streets, and, sure, call it a "party" if you want to. But that does not make the demonstrators barbaric or ignorant, though some seem to have been quick to imply they were nothing but. Osama bin Laden’s death was one moment in time. And it was likely the only event resembling a “bookend” to 9/11 that the country will ever know--one clear moment in a war that simply doesn't lend itself to such luxuries. President Obama said that Monday was a "good day" for America. The demonstrators I saw--even those perched on shoulders, draped in flags, and cheering "U.S.A., U.S.A.!"—were really just saying the same thing.