He then delivered a speech similar to one I have heard I-don’t-know-how-many-times. It is the tale of an America whose idealism is but a veneer covering more sinister motives, an America whose history is stained by acts of aggression and imperialism, an America governed by a handful of cynical men in love not with democracy but with power.

This week, against the backdrop of mass terrorism in New York and Washington, D.C., the words of my friend came back to me. They were with me as the Pentagon burned. They were with me as the twin towers fell. They were with me as I saw footage of people jumping from the World Trade Center’s upper floors when, confronted with the agony of burning alive, they opted for the most painless death possible. Through all of this awfulness the words were there, ricocheting horrifically about my mind:

I feel almost no sense of patriotism at all.

I do not think my friend would still speak those words under the present circumstances. I doubt any American would. But it frightens me that my friend, or anyone else in this land, would speak those words, ever. And it frightens me that so much death and destruction is required to unify us in defense of our nation.

The history of America is not perfect. The history of no nation is. But nothing can negate one simple truth that we must know, and feel, and express, and defend—not only in times of catastrophe, but always. That truth is this: America has done more to promote good in the world than any other nation in history.

I believe we felt this truth when we gathered in vigil at Memorial Church on Tuesday. We felt this truth every time we saw an American flag flying at half-mast. We felt this truth when our Congressional leaders suddenly forgot their party rivalries and, standing together at the Capitol, sang “God Bless America” in unison. And feel it we must, for it is this truth that the terrorists who blew apart the Manhattan skyline and gouged a scar in the Pentagon seek to destroy. They did not attack mere buildings. They did not attack individual people. They attacked, deliberately, the greatest force for freedom, democracy and prosperity that the world has ever seen.

Wherever there is the death of innocents, we shall grieve. It is proper that we grieve. But in all of our grieving, let us remember what we believe and why it is worth defending. And, by God, let us defend it. Always.

Jason L. Steorts ’01-’03, a Crimson editor, is a philosophy concentrator in Dunster House.