DAN BARRY
Finally, the sworn enemy of this American generation had been cornered and killed by our determined special forces over there, ending a decade-long hunt for the villain who had altered our way of life. Here, it seemed, was our moment to plant a celebratory kiss on a nurse or soldier in Times Square, to chant "USA, USA, USA" until dawn - to see the faint outline of a better tomorrow.
 Illustration photo taken on May 3, 2011 in Brussels shows several Belgian newspapers’ front pages, reporting on the death of Al Qaeda leader Osama Bin Laden. AFP |
But the pent-up emotions released by the news of a successfully deadly firefight in Pakistan, some 6,900 miles from Manhattan, proved as complicated as these times. They ranged from jingoistic bursts of boast to halting expressions of dread; from joyous shouts for the strike of a winning goal to somber reflections about that dish best served cold, vengeance.
"Bittersweet," is how Todd Polk, an Army major who has completed two tours in Afghanistan, described the news of Osama bin Laden's demise. Speaking by telephone from the Army's National Training Center, in Southern California, he said he was glad that the last thing Bin Laden saw "was an American face."
A great day, no doubt. But, he added, the grind of war continues.
"It's a morale boost," Major Polk said, before beginning another day training soldiers for combat. "But it's not V-E Day."
moreEarly celebrations
Osama bin Laden had become Public Enemy No. 1 and only, responsible for the attacks of September 11 that killed more than 2,900 people and provided government justification for sending a million American soldiers to war. At the same time, he was just one man, a thin, bearded ascetic killed by a gunshot to the head and now buried at sea.
 The World Trade Centre attcked on September 11, 2001 under the orders of Osama |
His death may represent exacted justice, but it does not provide resolution. No sense of war's end; no sense that the hovering threat of terrorism will lift anytime soon.
In the first hours, at least, it did seem like another Victory in Europe Day in the offing, particularly in certain corners of New York City. Sunday night's reports of Bin Laden's death sent hundreds cheering into the streets that surround the World Trade Center site. That many of them were children when the towers fell may have explained some of their joy; the bad man who loomed over their formative years had been vanquished, and so they raised voices, flags and cans of beer.
By midmorning, though, the numbers and the enthusiasm had waned. No nurses and soldiers in photogenic embrace. Only Mayor Michael R Bloomberg's solemn words - "Yesterday, Osama bin Laden found out that America keeps its commitments" - and the announcement of an increased police presence in the city's subways.
In other places around the country that figured prominently in the 9/11 narrative, there were fewer fist bumps and woo-hoo chants than thoughtful pauses to place the development in sobering context.
Measured relief
 President Barack Obama announcing the death of Osama |
In Boston, at Logan International Airport, the ceaseless morning hustle for departure gates and exit doors continued, just as it did nearly a decade ago, when Bin Laden-directed hijackers boarded the two jetliners that they would crash into the twin towers. Travellers who stepped outside the hurrying scrum to consider Bin Laden's death generally expressed a happiness tinged with trepidation.
Luis Jimenez, 53, had just returned from California after engaging in a rite of passage so familiar in American culture: visiting colleges with his daughter, Paola, a soccer-playing high school junior. Before continuing on to their home in Moultonborough, NH, he said he felt shock, elation and relief at the news of Bin Laden's death.
"I think justice has been done," he said, though he added, "I do worry a little about what might happen next."
In Shanksville, Pa, where a plane crashed in a field after some passengers and crew members thwarted the plans of its Bin Laden-directed hijackers to hit either the White House or the Capitol, visitors placed small tokens - flowers, small American flags and newspapers heralding Bin Laden's death - along the chain-link fence of the temporary memorial marking the crash site.
Michael Barham, who described himself as a military veteran from Phoenix who had served in Afghanistan, said that he was in Pittsburgh for a trade show, but that he had driven to Shanksville with his father on Monday morning because "this was the place we had to be today."
"I'm very glad to see him dead," Barham said of Bin Laden. "My only wish is that I could have been the one to do it."
And in Washington, DC, not far from where Bin Laden-directed hijackers crashed a plane into the Pentagon, dozens gathered outside the White House late Sunday night to sing in praise of the United States. But by Monday morning, the singing had stopped, with small groups of tourists snapping photographs and enjoying the moment, while news photographers and television crews waited for signs of celebration worthy of recording. Any honking of cars in the nation's capital signaled impatience, not celebration.
Here was Katie Russell, 25, rushing to work at the National Geographic Channel and calling the news "pretty awesome." But here, too, was Chris Halley, 42, a labour union employee, allowing that justice had been served, but adding that nothing had been changed.
"There's always going to be another cockroach popping up," Halley said, offering an assessment sure to vex military officials who spent nearly half a generation looking for Bin Laden.
'A very good day'
Indeed, in chilly, cloudy Dearborn, Michigan, where a third of the nearly 100,000 residents are of Middle Eastern descent, there seemed to be little doubt that the protracted hunt for Bin Laden, capped by his death, was a good and just development.
 The compound where Osama was hiding |
Mohammed Al-Fulah, who moved to the United States from Iraq 27 years ago and now works in his family's restaurant, took a break from his lunch on a park bench to say he found nothing unseemly in the sporadic public celebrations of Bin Laden's death.
"Why not?" he asked, stretching out his arms. "The man was a blood murderer. Why shouldn't everybody be happy? It is a good day. A very good day."
Madiha Ridha, an Iraqi émigré who works at a Dearborn clothing store that caters to Arab-American women, agreed. "We thank God they caught him," she said. "It has been a long time. We are very happy.
"What he did in New York we will never forget," she added, shaking her head. "He is not a human being."
But the chatter on Facebook and Twitter reflected a virtual back-and-forth conversation about the propriety of celebrating a man's death - no matter that thousands of Americans were killed at his command.
 Americans celebrate the death of Osama |
"A lot of people are rejoicing about it on Facebook," said Kirk Barron, 22, a student at Columbia College, in Chicago. "A lot of people don't necessarily know what they're talking about. All they know is that a bad guy is killed. It's a form of patriotism. It's like you're rooting for your favorite sports team."
'Symbolic and important,' but not an end
Barron, who was in grammar school when September 11 attacks took place, admitted that he was having a hard time trying to figure out how he felt about the killing of Bin Laden. "I'm pretty spiritual, so I don't want to celebrate a person's death," he said. "He was a bad guy, so it's good that he was stopped. Then, I question whether his supporters will retaliate."
These were the themes that intrigued students in William Lamme's history classes at Kelly High School, in Chicago. They wanted to know more about Bin Laden, more about Al Qaeda - more about distant events still shaping current events. "The students wanted to know if this somehow represented an end to things - which in my opinion, unfortunately, it does not," Lamme said. "The movement has become much bigger. We talked about how important this person's death would be for a movement that has gotten so big. A lot of the students said that they thought it was symbolic and important.""An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth," Fitzgibbon said. "It don't always work that way." The New York Times (Daily News)
