InkLinks

InkLinks is a regular column for readers' response. This month readers respond to the terrorist attacks in September, reflecting especially on how our perceptions of ourselves have changed. If you would like to carry on this conversation, or start another, please drop us a line.

--JA

Helplessness, Perplexity, and Hope

The still photographs, speaking volumes, reach within my soul and unleash a torrent of feelings. The photographs capture the horror of destruction, the agony of loss and fear, deep sadness and grief and yet…pride, patriotism, human kindness and hope shine forth from them also. I become emotionally overwhelmed and drained through the simple experience of viewing photos and yet wonder about the immense fortitude of the individuals working every day at Ground Zero. We heard stories of health care workers ready and able to help but eventually becoming dejected and powerless because there were too few remaining alive to receive help. This helplessness goes against what we are taught to believe in health care - that if we are prepared enough, that if we train enough, that if we care enough, armed with today's technology, we can work miracles and save lives. On September 11, 2001, we saw that while there were many miracles, they were not orchestrated by those in green scrubs or white lab coats but from those in the uniforms of firefighters, police officers, FEMA workers and volunteers.

On the morning of September 11th, I believe our nation was thrust into the depth of a moral dilemma. A moral dilemma generally involves a situation in which there are two courses of action, and only one can be chosen. Here there are many different courses of actions, and many hard choices must be made. We are obliged to act yet struggle with making the choice that will most honor what matters most. The good must be valued for itself and not sacrificed in pursuit of other goods. Is our freedom the highest good? Is the sanctity of innocent human life the highest good? Is terrorism, as an act of evil, the opposite of the highest good and if so, are we morally obligated to do something about that evil act? How shall we fight terrorist acts when they sneak up on us and blind side us in our innocence? How can we appeal to the highest good when the good is defined in opposite terms by our opponents? If we believe in the sanctity of innocent human life, how can we protect those whose lives may be lost as we seek to attain our highest good? Can we feel that the acts of the nation are right regardless of the harm that is done in so doing the act? If we stand together in opposition to terrorism, regardless of the consequences, do we create a moral victory? These are just a few of the ethical and moral questions that we all should be contemplating since our lives changed on September 11th.

Are there concrete and abiding answers? I believe that moral dilemmas can be better understood if we have studied ethics and the medical humanities. I would surmise that each of us must struggle with our own moral dilemmas in order to begin to understand the acts and long-term consequences of September 11th. I would ask that we do not become entangled in the web and fear of terrorism and uncertainty. I would suggest we all look at the incredible photographs and let the images speak to our souls. I would pray that we do not lose hope as Martin Luther King, Jr. said, "We must accept finite disappointment, but we must never lose infinite hope."

Linda J. Keilman
College of Nursing

Gathering Courage

It was just a few weeks ago when a student stopped by my office and asked if I had heard the news. I said I had not. She then began, "You are not going to believe this, but an airplane has crushed against one of the towers of The World Trade Center!" I reached across my desk and turned on the radio. There we sat listening to the broadcast. I asked myself what had gone wrong. As time passed on, we heard of two other airplane crashes. A sinking feeling told us that these events were not isolated or coincidental, but the result of a well engineered plan. As the drama unfolded and the day progressed, it was clear that there was no turning back. Life as we knew it wasn't the same anymore. From that moment, safety was replaced by fear, trust by suspicion and laughter by sadness. Out in the hallway, there were people expressing disbelief. I walked into the students' lounge. Twenty-five students watched the repetitive images of the towers collapsing. Our eyes were fixed on the TV. Silence conveyed our feelings.

Through the day, I tried to remain calm and began putting things into perspective. As I walked through the building, I looked around and noticed how students, faculty and staff were carrying on as best as they could. Faces were grim and eyes were wet. I desperately wanted to scream and ask them what was in their minds. I remember walking into a lecture and seeing the instructor hiding behind medical concepts while the students took notes and avoided looking at each other.

Later on, as I reviewed my notes for another lecture, I put my notes aside and asked passing students how they were holding on. In minutes, a group of ten formed around me. Our conversation included comments of surprise and concern for the many who lost their lives. We tried to imagine how the medical personnel were covering the affected areas. Over and over again I heard students saying that they wished they were there. We discussed possible and impossible scenarios in which major disasters could leave behind a great number of victims. Somebody asked if we did believe that the U.S. and other countries around the world were prepared to meet the rescue and treatment demands of such events. At the end, we all agreed that the magnitude of the attacks and their end results was something nobody could have been prepared for.

That night, I went home thinking about how an ordinary day was transformed by the horrific acts of few mad men, and how while searching for some answers to my anguish and despair I reached out to the very same students who until then, saw in me their source of comfort and support. Instead, together we shared our emotions without embarrassment or shame. And in doing so, we renewed and strengthened their medical career dreams.

Norma I. Baptista, PhD
College of Osteopathic Medicine

Looking Outward

I will gloss over my initial reactions. I'm sure they were very similar to millions of Americans across the country - shock, anger, frustration, grief, etc. However, as the enormity of it all settles in, I ask myself: What next? In the aftermath, after hearing so many stories of grief and loss as well as beautiful stories of heroism and outpourings of community support, I am touched by the way ordinary people can do great things in extraordinary circumstances. While various acts of compassion make me proud of our country and its citizens, I am also uncomfortable about the fact that I don't feel a similar sense of loss and tragedy about other tragedies around the world. After all, I have heard of atrocities against women in Afghanistan for years, and, while they make me angry, I manage to go on about my normal daily routine with little trouble. Why?

The reason I feel solidarity and grief about this particular tragedy is fairly obvious. This was an attack on "my" country. It was directed at citizens of the United States as citizens of the United States. In addition, the media and political response reinforce these feelings of solidarity and grief. We are bombarded over and over with the horrific images of buildings crumbling. I have heard numerous first-hand accounts of hardship and heroism. Yet, the question remains: how can I still react so blithely to other tragedies of a similar scale? Is it because we manage to so easily compartmentalize our emotional reactions to what happens to "us" versus "them"? Why are other hardships allowed to go unseen? Why doesn't the media bombard me with images of others' suffering? While I struggle with the issue of what is a just response and wait anxiously for the next stages to unfold, I am hoping that - in the end - some good will come of all this grief. Perhaps Americans will become more compassionate global citizens. Perhaps in the future we will remember how others rallied to our aid and we will not be so quick to dismiss others grief and tragedy as "not our problem." Maybe, as many have said before me, we will finally re-think what obligations we have toward other people.

Sonya Charles, MA
College of Arts and Letters

Looking from Outside, In

As someone who lives and works abroad for six months each year, I think that the events of September 11th will have positive ramifications. One of the most interesting experiences for an expatriate (someone living and working in a country not their own) is to suddenly realize that the impression the "locals" hold is totally different from the impression the expatriate assumed they held. For instance, one of the African-American medical students who came to Malawi on an elective was surprised to realize that the Malawians saw her as an "American" first and foremost--and really did not consider her to be "black like them."

Now, in the aftermath of the events of September 11th, Americans who've never left home have experienced this same jolt. Contrary to our assumptions, not everyone in the world would move to America, if given the opportunity. In fact, our way of life is reviled in many quarters.

It is important to recognize the disparities between "their" actual opinions of us, and "our" version of their opinions. Without that, we can't address the basic breach between "us" and "them". The terrorist attacks of September 11 created an opportunity for Americans to see themselves as others see us, and that vision could help generate healthier international relationships in the future.

Terrie Taylor, DO
College of Osteopathic Medicine