However, there are events, most often tragic ones, that change the way myth, sentiment and nationalism effect the public. They are events that force the public to question their own mortality, the relationships they share with the people around them and their raison d'etre.
On Sept. 11 one of these events hit hard, crumbling not one, but two icons of superficial American greatness. The World Trade Center stood for our commercial prominence, while the Pentagon stood for our military prestige. New York towered above the world; and then it fell. But in the 21st century, as pundits decry a loss of morality, the fall of the two icons resurrected values of civil society that were most noticeably missing from the 1980s and'90s. Once again, myth, sentiment and nationalism brought members of communities closer together, this time on a highly authentic level.
Myth has played an important role in society from the beginning of civilized culture onward. Cavemen drew stories of events on walls of caves. In antiquity, myth played an essential role in cultural development. Greek and Roman figures like Hercules and epic poems such as the "Aeneid" and the "Odyssey" were passed on from generation to generation. The stories of the Bible (whether true or not) are the most common modern use of myth and sentiment as instructors in our moral and ethical educations.
However, at times, myth, sentiment and national pride appear to have little importance. The decisions we make in our lives have no great bearing on humanity and so we act without reflection, without thought. Peace can even make these attributes dangerous: nationalism can become too serious a belief, leading to superiority complexes and their own set of tragedies, as was the case with the Holocaust.
But becoming a victim of war changes all of that. In war, the very emotions that define us as humans reveal themselves in fresh forms: love, anger and friendship rise to new levels when we are faced with our own mortality.
Over spring break, I was fortunate enough to obtain a copy of the CBS special program, "9/11." It's a movie with a plot line as cliche as the odd coincidence that the date is the same as our emergency phone number. Two French brothers were in the process of making the documentary film, about a rookie fireman, a "Prob" (probationary fireman), as he is called, and it happens that his station is the closest one to the World Trade Center. On the morning of Sept. 11, one of the brothers went with a group of firemen who had been called to investigate a gas leak; the camera jolts upward just in time to catch the first plane flying into the World Trade Center.
Already close by, the firemen rushed to the scene and were the first to enter Tower One, accompanied by the brother with his camera. The ensuing scenes picture the destruction of Sept. 11 from the perspective of a fireman inside the World Trade Center. They also show the perspective of the other brother, back at the fire station, who fears that he has lost his brother in the tragedy. But as cliches and myths tend to go, not only do all the firemen of Engine Seven, Ladder One return, but the brothers are reunited.
There's something drippy about this sentimental documentary of Sept. 11, but there's one great difference: this time it's real. The documentary, although it does feature Robert DeNiro as its spokesman and includes some minor edits, is real, filming the event as it happened. It's an extraordinary portrayal of fear, chaos and bravery, as the firefighters attempt to save as many lives as possible without functioning communication systems and against insurmountable odds. The systems of humanity are overwhelmed by a greater force of destruction; only bravery, courage and resilience manage to save lives.
A most striking scene comes in the lobby of Tower One, where the command station has been set up. Fire chiefs huddle, attempting to forge a plan to rescue more people. In the background we hear loud, thunderous noises. The voice-over explains: these are the people that have jumped. Every time another body falls, there is a loud crash-the firemen look up for a moment, then continue working. One fireman says, "How bad must it be up there for this [suicidal jumping] to be a better alternative?" At the same time, more and more firemen are sent up the flights of stairs, a fire chief watching as his brothers climb the stairs. This is what Sept. 11 did. It tore us apart in a way that could only, in the end, bring us back together.
The film faces the risk of sounding sappy, corny and overly sentimental; and before Sept. 11, that's just what this story would have been. "Mushy," I can see critics labeling it. Manipulative. But everything changes when you watch your brother go to his possible death. Everything takes on a new perspective when you've lived through the uncertainty of not knowing whether your spouse or your parents will make it home at the end of the workday.
The American populace awoke on Sept. 11 to destruction; but, within each person. there also awoke a greater sense of moral obligation toward others. The myths and the stories of the silver screen are finally true; they now have meaning. The men and women who have died are very real, are very painful to remember and are very sorely missed.
Every generation in the 20th century has had a tragedy (World Wars I and II, the Great Depression, Vietnam). This is our great tragedy. We must continue to reflect on it and listen to the voices of others about it. It is all we can do to honor the people of Sept. 11 in all their forms. And, no, it's not too sentimental, cliched or mythical. It's real.