by Paul A. Eisenstein

(2001-09-17)

There are days in each of our lives burned into memory with photographic detail.  I can remember precisely where I stood when I learned John F. Kennedy was shot, when I watched Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon, when I saw the Challenger shuttle blow up.  And the day a terrorist assault on New York and Washington changed the world.

Like many of my colleagues, some of whose words help fill the pages of TheCarConnection.com, I was in Frankfurt, Germany, for the bi-annual motor show.  It was an event that promised to be of unprecedented magnitude, with 57 cars and concept vehicles making their world premier.  I had just finished an interview at Saab when the first plane flew into the World Trade Center.  It's nearly a kilometer from one end of the sprawling Frankfurt Messe to the other, but word traveled quickly.  Within minutes, any thoughts of automobiles were forgotten.

Computers meant to display prices and product specs became community bulletin boards.  Journalists and executives, models and PR practitioners crowded around the screens as the second plane plowed into the World Trade Center.  German and Japanese, Italians and Swiss, French and American, the normal barriers of communication suddenly fell as we all began to express our shock and horror and rage.    

What I remember most were the words of comfort offered by strangers:  The cleaning lady in the hall of my hotel, struggling in pidgen English to express her sorrow and her solidarity; the marchers carrying candles down the pedestrian mall in downtown Frankfurt; the sounds of the Star Spangled Banner as I stood waiting at the airport hoping to find a flight home, a German man walking over and simply saying "God bless you."

Most trips to Europe, I must confess, I'm reluctant to return.  But not this time.  My nation had come under attack, and the last place I wanted to be was on the other side of the Atlantic.  I'm luckier than most.  I was able to wrangle a seat on a flight General Motors chartered to get its own staff home.  And for that I cannot say "thanks" more sincerely. There were an estimated 10,000 Americans crowded around the Frankfurt airport, and for some, it may be a week before they can return to the U.S.

The country to which they will return shall forever be changed.  In the days since the terror assault, I have heard frequent reference to the attack on Pearl Harbor 60 years earlier.  True, there are similarities.  But the World Trade Center was no military base; its workers weren't wearing uniforms.  And no nation is laying claim or credit for this cowardly assault.  In the days and weeks to come, we will have to piece together the evidence indicating just who these enemies of peace really are.

Like so many Americans, my thoughts have been filled with rage and hate and the need for vengeance.  It's a surprising and somewhat uncomfortable position for someone who came of age marching in protest during the Viet Nam war.  But there is certainly no way we as a nation, we as part of the civilized world, can allow these assaults to go unanswered.

In the months to come, there will be many changes likely to take place as we explore the ways to improve our own security.   I can only hope we don't burn the village to save it; that we don't destroy the freedoms and beliefs of tolerance and justice that are the foundation of our nation in order to prop up our shattered sense of security. 

What I have seen since I returned gives me hope.  The airwaves are not filled with jingoistic diatribes.  True, there've been scattered assaults on Muslims and those of Arabic descent, but there is not the wholesale xenophobic panic that led to the internment of Japanese-Americans during the second world war.  Our seemingly disaffected youth, so long withdrawn from the body politic seem suddenly willing to explore the nature and need of sacrifice.  Ours is a nation not only drawing together, but finding within itself those very fundamental characteristics for which we may soon be fighting to protect and preserve. 

The cost may be heavy-adding to the toll mounting steadily as workers clear away the debris at the Pentagon and what had once been the World Trade Center.  The airline industry is likely to post record losses.  Indeed, Midway Airlines has already closed its doors.  The auto industry may face equally tough challenges.  Should the economy falter, sales are certain to take a dive.  And there is now a very strong likelihood that stalled efforts to raise fuel economy standards will win new backing.  Proponents are sure to stress the need for our nation to finally cut its dependence on Mideast oil. 

Then there is the very real likelihood that men and women of our nation-and its allies around the world-will soon be sent into harm's way.  There can be no greater sacrifice than the one they will be asked to make.  As someone who grew up during the Vietnam War, it is not a natural and easy thing to support military action.  But perhaps there is, after all, a fundamental connection between the war that was launched against us on Black Tuesday and the one our parents and grandparents fought more than a half century ago. 

We have entered into a battle between the light of freedom, of democracy, of tolerance, and the darkness of hatred and intolerance.  There are shades of gray, of course.  But the fundamental cause that drives us forward cannot be dismissed.  As a publisher, as an American, as a member of the greater society of free men, I can only hope that we maintain the will to succeed.

Yours truly, 
                                                                                    Paul A. Eisenstein