Why are Americans so
united? They don't resemble one another even if you paint
them! They speak all the languages of the world and form
an astonishing mixture of civilizations. Some of them are
nearly extinct, others are incompatible with one another,
and in matters of religious beliefs, not even God can
count how many they are. Still, the American tragedy
turned three hundred million people into a hand put on
the heart. Nobody rushed to accuse the White House, the
army, the secret services that they are only a bunch of
losers. Nobody rushed to empty their bank accounts.
Nobody rushed on the streets nearby to gape about. The
Americans volunteered to donate blood and to give a
helping hand. After the first moments of panic, they
raised the flag on the smoking ruins, putting on
T-shirts, caps and ties in the colours of the national
flag. They placed flags on buildings and cars as if in
every place and on every car a minister or the president
was passing. On every occasion they started singing their
traditional song: "God Bless America!".
Silent as a rock, I
watched the charity concert broadcast on Saturday once,
twice, three times, on different tv channels. There were
Clint Eastwood, Willie Nelson, Robert de Niro, Julia
Roberts, Cassius Clay, Jack Nicholson, Bruce Springsteen,
Silvester Stalone, James Wood, and many others whom no
film or producers could ever bring together. The
American's solidarity spirit turned them into a choir.
Actually, choir is not the word. What you could hear was
the heavy artillery of the American soul. What neither
George W. Bush, nor Bill Clinton, nor Colin Powell could
say without facing the risk of stumbling over words and
sounds, was being heard in a great and unmistakable way
in this charity concert. I don't know how it happened
that all this obsessive singing of America didn't sound
croaky, nationalist, or ostentatious! It made you green
with envy because you weren't able to sing for your
country without running the risk of being considered
chauvinist, ridiculous, or suspected of who-knows-what
mean interests. I watched the live broadcast and the
rerun of its rerun for hours listening to the story of
the guy who went down one hundred floors with a woman in
a wheelchair without knowing who she was, or of the
Californian hockey player, who fought with the terrorists
and prevented the plane from hitting a target that would
have killed other hundreds or thousands of people. How on
earth were they able to sacrifice for their fellow
humans? Imperceptibly, with every word and musical note,
the memory of some turned into a modern myth of tragic
heroes. And with every phone call, millions and millions
of dollars were put in a collection aimed at rewarding
not a man or a family, but a spirit which nothing can
buy.
What on earth can
unite the Americans in such a way? Their land? Their
galloping history? Their economic power? Money? I tried
for hours to find an answer, humming songs and murmuring
phrases which risk of sounding like commonplaces. I
thought things over, but I reached only one conclusion.
Only freedom can work
such miracles!
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De ce sint americanii
atit de solidari intre ei? Nu seamana unul cu celalalt
nici daca ii vopsesti! Vorbesc toate limbile pamintului
si alcatuiesc un amalgam ametitor de civilizatii. Unele
sint aproape disparute, altele incompatibile intre ele,
iar in materie de credinte religioase, nici Dumnezeu nu
le mai tine socoteala. Si, totusi, tragedia americana a
facut din trei sute de milioane de oameni o mina strinsa
pe inima. N-a sarit nimeni sa acuze Casa Alba, armata si
serviciile secrete ca reprezinta o adunatura de
neispraviti. N-a fugit nimeni sa-si scoata banii din
banci. Nu s-a inghesuit nimeni pe strazile vecine sa
caste gura. Americanii au dat fuga sa doneze singe si
s-au oferit ca voluntari. Dupa primele momente de panica,
au ridicat steagul pe ruinele fumeginde, punindu-si
tricouri, sepci si cravate in culorile drapelului
national. Au fixat steaguri pe cladiri si pe autoturisme
de ziceai ca in fiecare loc si in fiecare automobil trece
un ministru sau presedintele. Si cu orice prilej au
izbucnit in cintecul lor traditional: "God Bless
America!".
Mut ca bolovanul, am
urmarit concertul de binefacere, difuzat simbata. O data,
de doua ori, de trei ori, pe tot felul de canale de
televiziune. Cu Clint Eastwood, Willy Nelson, Robert de
Niro, Julia Roberts, Cassius Clay, Jack Nicholson, Bruce
Springsteen, Silvester Stallone, James Wood si citi au
mai fost si pe care nici un film si nici o casa de
productie nu i-a putut aduna vreodata la un loc. Spiritul
americanilor, de solidaritate, i-a transformat intr-un
cor. Cor e putin spus. Se auzea artileria grea a
sufletului american. Ceea ce nu putea spune nici George
W. Bush, nici Bill Clinton, nici Colin Powell fara riscul
de a se impiedica in cuvinte si sunete, se auzea maret si
inconfundabil in acest spectacol de binefacere. Nu stiu
cum Dumnezeu toata aceasta cintare obsedanta a Americii
nu suna nici dogit, nici nationalist, nici ostentativ! Te
facea sa mori de ciuda ca nu esti in stare sa-ti cinti si
tu tara, fara a risca sa fii socotit sovin, ridicol sau
suspect de cine stie ce interese meschine. Ore intregi am
urmarit transmisia in direct si reluarea reluarii,
ascultind povestea celui care a coborit o suta de etaje
cu o femeie intr-un scaun cu rotile, fara sa stie cine
este, sau a hocheistului californian, cel care s-a batut
cu teroristii si a impiedicat avionul cazut in
Pennsylvania sa se pulverizeze intr-o tinta, omorind alte
sute sau mii de oameni. Cum Dumnezeu reuseau ei sa se
incline in fata unui semen? Pe nesimtite, cu fiecare
cuvint si nota muzicala, amintirea unora se coagula
intr-un mit modern al eroilor tragici. Si cu fiecare apel
telefonic se adunau milioane si milioane de dolari intr-o
colecta menita a recompensa nu un om sau o familie, ci un
spirit ce nu poate fi cumparat cu nimic.
Ce Dumnezeu poate sa-i
uneasca pe americani intr-un asemenea "hal"? Pamintul
acela? Istoria lor galopanta? Puterea economica? Banul?
Ore intregi am incercat sa gasesc un raspuns, fredonind
melodii si inginind propozitii ce risca sa sune a locuri
comune. Le-am intors pe toate fetele, dar n-am putut
trece de o idee.
Numai libertatea poate
face asemenea minuni!
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