We live among the remains of a defeat of historical magnitude. We need to think, quite simply, of who we have been. Recall our nation’s declared destiny before and during its founding. The Spanish-American War and all that followed—in the name of what, these interventions and aggressions? What was it Americans reiterated through all the decades leading to 2001—and, somewhat desperately, beyond that year? It was to remake the world, as Condoleezza Rice so plainly put it. It was to make the world resemble us, such that it would have to change and we would not. This dream, this prospect of a global society whose imagining made us American, is what perished in 2001. To put the point another way, America lost its long war against time.
Look upon 2001 in this way, and we begin to understand what it was that took its toll on the American consciousness. Those present had witnessed the end of a long experiment—a hundred years old if one counts from the Spanish war, two hundred to go back to the revolutionary era. I know of no one who spoke in these terms at the time: It was unspeakable. But now, after a decade’s failed effort to ‘create reality’, we would do best not only to speak of it but to act with the impossibility of our inherited experiment in mind—confident that there is a truer way of being in the world.”
“An inability to change is symptomatic of a people who consider themselves chosen and who cannot surrender their chosenness. When we look at our nation now, do we see the virtuous republic our history has always placed before us as a sacred chalice? [….] Do Americans have a democratic mission? Finally someone has asked. And the only serious answer is, ‘They never did.’”