PressEthic

Yesterday's 9/11 memorial ceremonies were reliably inclusive and apolitical. Those who gathered at the site came from around the world, and the collective grief they shared was impersonal, deep, paradoxically selfless in the span of its reach. It must be a comfort to many to think that, despite the rollercoaster that has sickened U.S. foreign relations over the past five years, the actual day of the event that sparked so much divisiveness is still a unifying day.

The only one-sided perspective I encountered yesterday came in the form of the New Yorker's September 11 issue. The New Yorker is my favorite magazine, not an easy target of criticism; the uneasiness I felt reading it came from very subtle elements of its composition, but I might sum it up by citing two things: a lack of American introspectiveness and an unnecessary connection forged between terrorism and elements of a society most Americans have never experienced.

The news stories in the issue are all about the Middle East. The "Financial Page" traces the Bin Laden family's dealings with the bank UBS; a lighthearted account of an Al Qaeda informant is followed by a look at Hamas; after that comes an update by Lawrence Wright on the latest trends in jihad, followed by George Packer's story about a small Islamic movement in Sudan whose founder advocated a more progressive interpretation of religious law. Separately they each read beautifully and seem to display top-knotch reporting. But collected into a single issue, they send the wrong message.

First we see the connection--money--that link's Osama's world with our own. Right after that we get a laugh out of the antics of a Sudanese man who turned himself in to the American embassy in Eritrea in the '90s to become an informant for the CIA and the FBI, explaining Al Qaeda's inner workings to American authorities as different things blew up, like a seasoned sports announcer commenting on every play. The article describes the man as kooky, unpredictable and vain, with personal problems that seem, to American readers, absolutely silly. At one point, he asks his FBI witness protection guardians whether he can marry a second wife. At another point, a Fed describes having forced down a traditional Sudanese dish the informant's wife cooked for him: a pigeon roasted directly over the family's stove. The article is the drunken porter in the 9/11 issue, the lighter side of the war on terror.

Next comes the Hamas piece, and while Hamas is no Amnesty International, its direct association with Al Qaeda doesn't quite fly either. Is this issue meant to be a congruent whole, or is the Hamas article designed as a respite from the subject of 9/11? It is somewhat sympathetic in tone: Are readers meant to come away from it with insight into the coming-of-age of new terrorists?

The article about Hamas as well as Lawrence Wright's look at Al Qaeda's ideological offshoots are both incredibly engaging, as is George Packer's description of an Islamic movement in Sudan which he describes as the antithesis of the influential ideas of Sayyid Qutb. But all three together? The placement of the Packer article suggests that one of its messages is something like "yes, interpretations of Islam are the parts of the driving forces of all of these different violences, and now here's a non-violent interpretation, which is interesting, but, unfortunately, less effective."

A parallel yet less problematic lineup would have been to follow the Hamas and Al Qaeda pieces with a look at a different kind of political resistance or economic struggle. This would reduce the bombardment of readers with ways to extrapolate (in potentially harmful ways) on the background knowledge on Islam and aspects of unfamiliar cultures the articles present. What the magazine as a whole seems to be saying now is that there are a bunch of backwards people out there, and that all of this backwardness is connected, somehow, to a movement that is hurting Americans. An entire stretch of the world is permiated with ominously foreign ideas and activities. Scary.

Absent from the 9/11 issue is any kind of look at the progress the American investigative machine may or may not have made since 9/11. Ignoring "Bin Laden Determined to Attack Within the United States" is just as silly a faux-pas as requesting a second wife, with more dire consequences. Can't we laugh at the Feds? Or shudder at the grave implications of conditions right here in the U.S., instead of in Sudan in the '80s?

Perhaps I read too much into the coherence into this New Yorker issue, but given the ease with which unrelated situations and ideas in the Middle East have become linked in the minds of U.S. leaders, I believe that icons of responsible journalism such as this magazine should proceed in their analyses with caution. What the 9/11 issue feels like to me is an overkill, bordering on obsession, of things that, when grouped together in people's minds, only serve to widen the gap, to reduce the avenues for cultural exchange, to make us all a little less open to trying roasted pigeon.