Pubdate: Sun, 30 Sep 2001 Source: Milwaukee Journal Sentinel (WI) Copyright: 2001 Milwaukee Journal Sentinel Contact: http://www.jsonline.com/ Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/265 Author: Kevin Merida, columnist for The Washington Post THERE'S URBAN TERRORISM, TOO I was in Savannah, Ga., when the death planes struck and our nation cringed and the world changed. But even in a changed world, I had an interview to conduct on an unrelated story, so I met Isaac Martin at the Hyatt, where I was staying. He stepped into the lobby, looked around, looked up and asked whether we could adjourn to a neighboring park to talk instead. To him, the Hyatt was just another building that could crumble. If terrorists could hit the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, then why not the Hyatt? There was no deductive reasoning in this - first they hit the heart of America's financial center, then the symbol of U.S. military might, then a riverside hotel in Georgia? But Martin's point wasn't about logic, because logic had been abandoned. "Everybody's not going to be themselves today," he concluded. I keep recalling this image of a rugged man with strong hands and plenty of nerve feeling vulnerable standing in a hotel lobby about 800 miles from what people had taken to calling "ground zero." Vulnerability, ironically, is what brought Americans together - the sense that terrorism could strike any of us any time, anywhere. But the more enduring truth is that many of our citizens feel vulnerable every day of their lives, right in their own neighborhoods. It's a condition that gets little attention from us as a society. "Yeah, we've got some home-grown terrorists, and they're terrorizing communities day and night," said Winston Robinson, commander of the 7th Police District in southeast Washington, D.C. "These guys are ruining lives." Ruining lives means selling drugs, killing over drugs, spraying bullets, compelling neighbors to take refuge indoors, forcing them to alter their daily routines out of fear. Somewhere, each night, in every major American city, this is the reality. It's a shame. And it's a deeper shame to see what some of the young dudes in these neighborhoods are becoming. "We've got some problems with some of our young people, their view of their self-worth, what's going to happen to their lives tomorrow," said Robinson. "You talk to them on the corner and they'll tell you, yeah, it's a possibility that they'll get killed being out there, but they're willing to take that risk to achieve the goals they've set for themselves." And what are these goals? To have wads of cash in their pockets, a sweet ride, designer clothes, sparkling jewelry - bling-bling - and a good time at the clubs. International terrorists, who fight with suicide jets and car bombs, obviously have more ambitious - and more sinister - goals. You can overdraw the analogy between sophisticated international terrorists and local hoodlums, but Robinson's plea is this: "Some of the same thoughts that are going into the strategy to fight international terrorism need to go into fighting our national threat." He's talking about using an all-out approach on our streets, everything from providing more resources to combat drugs at their source to building movie theaters and grocery stores in neighborhoods without anchors. Minnie Green, 75, a retired government worker, has lived in the Petworth neighborhood of northwest Washington all her life. It used to be so bad in her community, she said, that you couldn't leave your house. Twelve years ago, neighbors started a citizens' patrol, which Green leads. They call themselves the Wise-Up Orange Hatters after the bright hats that signal their arrival when they take to the streets two evenings a week. The drug dealers see them and shout: "Here come the coneheads." The orange hatters have logged their share of victories; emboldened by the spirit of Americans rallying in the wake of the terrorist attacks, they marched into the heart of the drug dealers' territory recently and just stood in that one treacherous block, refusing to be intimidated. The dealers scattered. Not long ago, a man getting off a bus was ambushed by two thugs, robbed, beaten; his teeth were knocked out; his nose was bloodied. The orange hatters weren't out that night. Green still feels awful about that. "A lot of these guys don't care," she said. There's no feeling for humanity, no regard for human life." This is how most Americans feel about the terrorists. No feeling for humanity, no regard for human life. It has bonded us in a way that no other episode in memory has. All of a sudden, strangers are hugging each other, restaurants are offering free food, flag makers are working overtime to keep up with the demand. Most of us have never witnessed such an outpouring of empathy. At times like these, it's worth noting that there are people who must deal with forces that scare them every day of their lives, right in their own neighborhoods. They, too, are deserving of our empathy, and much, much more. - --- MAP posted-by: Beth