Buffy Anne Summers, aka

On this, the anniversary of the attacks of September 11, 2001, I thought it might be worthwhile to again assess the real damage done. Yes, there was the tragic loss of life on that day that now almost seems to have occurred somewhere else, in some other country, and I certainly do not mean to lesson the gravity of that loss, but I’m intent here on talking about some of the other damage that was done — the damage we’ve done to ourselves.

Although, prior to the attacks I would never have thought I would ever say such a thing, it was in some respects, a far more innocent time. In those more halcyon days, most of us I suspect thought that an American — with only the rarest exception — was simply an American, a US citizen simply a citizen, some of course better, far more responsible citizens than others, some to the political left and some to the political right, but nevertheless, a more or less given that, left or right, we were held together in as many ways as not by a common thread of understanding.

It is the sort of denial that seems almost a requirement to live in this post-post-postmodern age (or whatever), and it was naive, and perhaps in some ways it really was innocent, yet most of us I suspect know and have nearly always known that the edges of our society have always been raw with the rampant and the rabid, but that understanding nevertheless did not require very many of us to acknowledge the extent to which the half-cocked and half-crazed were waiting for their opportunity to pounce.

And suddenly, with the attacks, came that opportunity at last.

Suddenly, a man who was inarguably one of the most deeply flawed and unqualified to ever inhabit the house at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, toward whom most Americans, judging by the polls, had already lost much of their initial good will and faith, became, overnight — primarily it seems because he could use a bullhorn and make a few terse comments — our Great Leader.

So we were told.

For many months — and to a slightly lesser extent, even years — after, to offer criticism of that particular president became tantamount to being unpatriotic, of offering solace to the enemy, of being un-American, of being treasonous.

So we were told.

As nasty as American politics had been in recent decades, it had rarely seen this sort of opportunism, this sort of vitriol, obsession, or sheer, mindless indecency. Suddenly, anyone who did not agree with the deeply flawed policies of our deeply flawed president had the choice of being silent or of being attacked by a propaganda machine with the sole intent of threatening, bullying, silencing, and blacklisting all comers.

Fortunately, enough fought back, and passions gradually cooled enough, so that that machine did not achieve the total political and media dominance to which its operators aspired. (At least some of us think it was fortunate.)

And yet.

Here we are today, still caught in the aftermath of a political tsunami in which it has become acceptable, even heroic to many, for an elected leader in our Congress to heckle the president of the United States in the middle of his speech, in which it has become acceptable, even heroic to many, to openly carry and display firearms into venues in which the president is scheduled to speak, in which it has become acceptable, even patriotic to many, to simply make up your own "facts" on any subject whatsoever, to attribute a statement to your opponent that is exactly the opposite of what your opponent actually said, to lie about everything, to give one’s loyalty only to one’s political party, or team, to concern yourself with winning only, and for your side only, and to treat any concerns about the actual future of this society as inconsiderable and beneath contempt.

It has been said, by many on the right, and on many occasions — in utter denial of all the damage that has been done — that we should all just shut up and be appreciative that the Bush administration protected us from further terrorist attacks. And I am willing to admit, despite mounting evidence to the contrary, it may well be that Bush, Cheney, et al, did protect us, that some of their policies were far more effective than we know, or are, apparently, allowed to know.

But even if all of that is true, if we should ever be attacked similarly again (or worse) there is still one question that has to nag incessantly at anyone in this country who still has a mind, who can still think a semi-coherent thought, who still cares: who or what will protect us from the fully-cocked and the fully-crazed, the rampant and the rabid, who are now orgasmically frothing at the lips at the thought of when their opportunity may come?

In short, who will protect us from ourselves?

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