I logged into the desktop, and the news was ugly. BBC's website was sluggish, the NYT was a bare skeleton page. I turned on the radio and listened.
It was obviously a war.
We'd been a long time without a major war, especially one on US soil. That kind of mostly peace couldn't have lasted forever, but I'd hoped …
The next thing I thought of was our 8-year-old youngest son marching off to war. I'd be willing to go in his place, but I was already too old for that. And there'd be a few years yet – I had no illusions about wars being short; they typically aren't, though the hostilities ebb and flow. In the event, we were rich enough to be able to trade money for blood, and didn't need large armies. So far. That trade only works if the war is mostly "somewhere else."
The culprits were identified surprisingly quickly. Or better say, "The proximate enemy was identified surprisingly quickly."
In the next few days the University sponsored a gathering to "work through" the news and the emotions, and with typical failure of imagination completely forgot to add to the roster of speakers a pastor or chaplain, i.e. somebody who regularly tries to comfort people suffering loss and pain. I didn't find that one professor's "travelogue" particularly moving or useful.
That blind spot persists, I'm afraid. Twenty-five years later I still don't see that the powers-that-be have a good grasp of what a religious war entails. Realpolitik may work with the rich and powerful rulers in a region, but in the end even authoritarian rulers hold their tenure by sufferance, and if the imams denounce you as an infidel there will be a change one day.
And it is curious what faith our aggressively secular rulers have in the evangelistic power of Mammon and John Locke.

