This is also, needless to say, a moment of truth for President George W. Bush, the Man from Midland, elected by the barest of electoral margins and held in contempt by so many (especially here at Harvard). His presidency now will be judged not on budget surpluses or prescription drug benefits, but on his response to this sudden trial by fire. Bush has suddenly become a wartime president—and this is a war, make no mistake, one that began when America first stretched out its hand to support the state of Israel, and has continued through Lebanon in the 1980s, the World Trade Center in 1993, our African embassies in 1998 and the USS Cole last year.

It will continue until the terrorist threat is crushed, or until the bin Ladens and Husseins and Assads succeed in driving us from the Muslim world and remaking the vastness and variety of Islamic civilization in their own dark image. In this light, whether Bush wins re-election is ultimately immaterial—victorious leaders from Churchill to Bush the Elder have been turned out of office by the fickle popular will. Before the bar of history, he will be judged on whether he wins the war that has been so suddenly and shockingly given to him, and to us.

And yes, although we may not realize it yet, this is a moment of truth for Harvard University as well, and for its oh-so-sophisticated student body. For 30 years now, since the Vietnam War drove ROTC from campus and made love of country seem unfashionable and out of date in fair Cambridge, Harvard students have maintained a fashionable, post-patriotic pose that regards national pride with suspicion or outright disgust. The Harvard-spawned ruling class, fanning out across New York and Washington and Hollywood each year, often seems to disdain the people and the nation that it aspires to govern.

For now, at least, with the taste of blood and ashes still strong, Harvard’s usual mix of one-world pacifism and knee-jerk anti-American sentiment seems muted. But already the whispers have begun, in dining halls and chat groups and classrooms, wherever our jaded, over-privileged meritocrats can quietly express their disdain for the simple, easily manipulated sentiments of the common man. If you listen closely, you can hear them—all those flags make me uncomfortable ... this is just an excuse for the Republicans to build up the military ... it’s tragedy, sure, but not a war ... I wish everyone would just calm down ...

And worst of all, here and there—well, you know, I hate to say it, but we kind of had it coming.