Or, things are different now
Like many others, I had no kind or charitable thoughts for America in the immediate aftermath of 9/11. I was shocked but not surprised, and to me it seemed that an inevitability had come to pass that flowed naturally from the policies of the American government. Despite my lifelong love affair with the idea of America I had little idea of what America is, and like every other European I was deeply cynical about American sincerity, American generosity, American faith, American self-confidence.
I watched the people leaping from the burning Towers and the only word that came to mind was "suits..." What I felt was that kind of satisfaction the Germans refer to as 'schadenfreude' - delight in the misfortune of others and, though I would not have admitted it then, the motivation of that delight was envy and resentment.
I confess, I smiled as I watched them fall.
Cut to this morning, and the images on our TV screen here in Richmond, live from London, a city I lived in for nine years. Filthy, bloody figures, staggering in confusion. An eviscerated double-decker, one of the big rectangular ones that I used to ride every day to school. It would have been filled with people I knew and understood, with whom I found myself compellingly involved, 3500 miles away in a duplex in Virginia.
And suddenly there was another connection, as shocking, as compelling, to that instant in which I watched a man fling himself from a burning, collapsing building, to fall to his death. To that instant in which I smiled. I remembered my delight, and was filled with shame.
No policy of the American government, no act of the American government, justified what was done on 9/11. No act of the British government, no involvement in any conflict anywhere in the world, justifies what happened today to the people on that double-decker, or those riding the London tube.
And no argument for free speech or personal rights and liberties should stand in the way of the British government pursuing the perpertrators of the attacks against London with all the aggression, hositility, and relentless malice that the British are capable of.
Find them. Kill them. Kill those who shelter and aid them. Torture, with every means available, those who know where they are but will not give them up. Send more troops to Iran and Afghanistan, and root out every element of so-called 'radical' Islam wherever it is found in those countries.
Recognise that every Muslim already behind British and American borders is potentially an enemy willing to die so long as he can kill one of us first - and treat every goddamn one of them accordingly, as a threat to be controlled and contained, where it can't be directly eliminated.
And do not talk to me about your Islam being peaceful and moderate - not unless you are going to decry these crimes, and voluntarily work with the authorities to root out these 'radicals' who have 'stolen' your religion. If they've stolen it, go get it back - or be prepared to be viewed with suspicion and distrust by the non-muslims around you, and to face their hostility.
America is my country now, and I give to her, and every American, an apology for the resentment, envy, and mistrust that led me to smile as I watched innocent Americans die. Just as I owe the connection I feel to those people who died today, who lost someone today, who sits in horrible anxiety and dread today in London, waiting for someone to come home, to the evil acts of a handful of fanatics.
I will not say that I am grateful to them. I will say that I am grateful for the fact that I am able to feel shame, that I am human enough to sympathise with innocents murdered by madmen, man enough to want to kick someone's ass, and still English enough to want revenge for what was done in London today.
I cannot forget the image of that shredded double-decker. There would have been children on it, and old ladies, and lovers, and men going to work. Years ago, I was one of them.
No matter where I go, no matter which country I give my allegiance to, some part of me is fundamentally and undeniably English. Strangely, it has taken a journey halfway round the world, and murder in a far away city, for me to remember this.
Now I have, I will not forget.