I know a lot of people are tiptoeing gently about the death of Osama bin Laden, cradling their reactions in their arms--should I feel joyful that he is dead?; should I condemn the killing of a man, regardless of his deeds and nature? It's a polarizing question, and thanks to the wonders of social media, I can already see much of the dissention on how we all should, and shouldn't, process this event in the name of decency.
So I will take this opportunity, go on record, and say this:
I could not possibly want to celebrate the death of Osama bin Laden more. Thank God it happened, and that it happened without any American casualties (at least in this specific strike, anyway). Thank God the fight was brought to his 'home,' met with him face to face so he could see it coming, see his inevitable demise crashing through his walls, unstoppable in spite of however many wives he tries to throw in its way. I hope it hurt. I hope he suffered.
I'll admit, I may be wrong in thinking this way. Maybe this is just an example of how deep my flaws run, or maybe I am simply less evolved, less enlightened, than those who say that every human life has value. But really, can we honestly hold bin Laden, the same one who claimed to rejoice at the sight of those bodies, sometimes only parts of bodies, plummeting to the ground on that sunny morning of September 11, 2001, in the same classification, the same species, the same genus as you and me?
So there you have it. President Obama was right; it is a good day to be an American. I am happy we got him, killed him decisively and unwaveringly, and though I should probably hold these thoughts closer to my heart and further from my mouth (or in this case, my fingertips), what can I do? This was honestly how I felt when I received the news last night on TV, still how I felt this morning after sleeping on it, still after reading countless Facebook posts from friends who rebuke any feelings of joy one may hold at this historical moment.
And it truly is a historical moment for America, for all the people who died on the planes, in the Pentagon and the towers, for their families and loved ones who might, just might, finally, after 10 years, feel the beginnings of closure.
I just can't help but think back a decade to that morning when I woke up and saw those two towers burning like candles, how I was convinced for much too long that it could not be real, could not be terrorism; real buildings don't crumble like that. It must be some horrible mix-up, a movie shoot, maybe. I remember how the world seemed to have stopped on that day--traffic moved slower, stores were emptier--and how the world was changed every day thereafter.
If feeling not an ounce of anything besides happiness at how bin Laden's death singularly has done more good than his entire cumulative life, if feeling joy at this American victory, this karmic comeuppance, makes me a bad person, then I am further from being good than I thought. I'll just have to find a way to live with that.
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