LOST LOVE.(The Talk of the Town)

After the calamity that glided down upon us out of a clear blue sky on the morning of Tuesday, September 11, 2001--five short years ago, five long years ago--a single source of solace emerged amid the dread and grief: a great upwelling of simple solidarity. Here in New York, and in similarly bereaved Washington, that solidarity took homely forms. Strangers connected as friends; volunteers appeared from everywhere; political and civic leaders of all parties and persuasions stood together, united in sorrow and defiance. In certain regions of the country, New York had been regarded (and resented) as somehow not quite part of America; that conceit, not shared by the terrorists, vanished in the fire and dust of the Twin Towers. The reconciliation was mutual. In SoHo and the Upper West Side, in the Village and the Bronx, sidewalk crowds cheered every flagbedecked fire engine, and the Stars and Stripes sprouted from apartment windows all over town. New York, always suspect as the nation's polyglot-plutocratic portal, was now its battered, bloody shield.

The wider counterpart to our traumatized togetherness at home was an astonishing burst abroad of what can only be called pro-Americanism. Messages of solidarity and indignation came from Libya and Syria as well as from Germany and Israel; flowers and funeral wreaths piled up in front of American Embassies from London to Beijing; flags flew at half-staff across Europe; in Iran, a candlelight vigil expressed sympathy. "Any remnants of neutrality thinking, of our traditional balancing act, have gone out of the window now," a Swedish political scientist told Reu-ters. "There has not been the faintest shadow of doubt, not a trace of hesitation of where we stand, nowhere in Sweden." Le Monde's front-page editorial was headlined NOUS SOMMES TOUS AMERICAINS, and Italy's Corriere della Sera echoed, "We are all Americans. The distance from the United States no longer exists because we, our values, are also in the crosshairs of evil minds." In Brussels, the ambassadors of the nineteen members of NATO invoked, for the first time in the alliance's fifty-two-year history, Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty, affirming that "an armed attack against one or more of them in Europe or North America shall be considered an attack against them all" and pledging action, "including the use of armed force."

No one realistically expected that the mood of fellow-feeling and cooperation would long persist in the extraordinarily powerful form it took in the immediate wake of September 11th. The normal divisions of American politics and society were bound to make themselves felt again, and whatever the United States did in response to the attacks would provoke the tensions and misunderstandings that inevitably accompany the actions of a superpower in distress, no matter how deft its diplomacy or thorough its consultations. But it was natural to hope that domestic divisions would prove less rancorous in the face of the common danger, and that international frictions could be minimized in a struggle against what almost every responsible leader in the world recognized, or claimed to recognize, as an assault on civilization itself.

What few expected was how comprehensively that initial spirit would be ruined by the policies and the behavior of our government, culminating in, though hardly limited to, the disastrous occupation of Iraq. This shouldn't have been so surprising. George W. Bush campaigned in 2000 as a "compassionate conservative," one who recognized that government was not the enemy, praised bipartisanship, proclaimed his intention to "change the tone in Washington," and advocated a foreign policy of humility and respect. None of that happened. Nine months into his Presidency, an economic policy of transferring the budget surplus to the wealthy, a social policy hewing to the demands of the Christianist far right, and a ...