MC: Yes. As a matter of fact—I certainly never predicted this, but I said often that when people would talk about threats, the great threat is ideology. Ideologies that think that our ideology is evil and wrong. And there are a lot of people who think that about us. And we are vulnerable as a nation because we can’t protect ourselves against that. I said that many, many times. I certainly didn’t predict this, but if you think about it, Bill, this should not really surprise us. We have been warned over and over by terrorist groups. I think if you can get an FBI or a CIA representative to tell you the truth, and you ask him on your program, “Did you ever get any threats?” he would say, “We get them every day.” And we know they’re capable of it because we saw what they did before at the World Trade Center [in 1993]. How did they get in? How did they plant the bomb? And if they could plant that small bomb—it was sizable for its time—then they could do bigger ones. And that’s what they’ve done. Can they seize an airplane? How many movies have you seen in which persons took hostages on a plane? Fifty? I mean, there’s nothing that’s happened here that’s surprising. What’s happened psychologically is we’re the only place in the world that’s never been subjected to a war. That was never attacked in a war. This is like being attacked in a war. But to say we never imagined this could happen, well, I’m not sure that’s true.
WO: Governor Mario Cuomo, on this awful day when our airliners are falling out of the sky, crashing into symbols of our national power and prestige, the psyche of America has taken a pretty good hit.
MC: Yes. And it will be worse as we think about it over the first few days.
WO: What do you mean?
MC: We will think about this and we will become angry. And we will become more and more angry. And I think, in the end, the only solution, if there is a solution to this madness, is what we’ve understood from the beginning: that you have to replace hate with understanding. In a perfect world, you’d replace hate with love, and everything would be ideal. That’s too much for us to ask in this life. What is not too much to ask is that you at least abate the hate and replace it with understanding and conciliation and compromise and figuring out a way to get along. That is the only way we can make it, by creating a sense of community that is worldwide. It’s the only way you keep peace in your own family, to create a sense of community, involving your children, your spouse, yourself. The only way you keep peace on your block, in your village, in your state, is to create a sense of community. We’re all in this together, all of us: the black ones, the white ones, the ones who wear turbans, and the ones who wear hardly anything. We’re all in this together. Now, that sounds like poetry. It’s not. It’s fundamental, essential common sense. And we’re not good at it. We’re not good at it, Bill.
WO: Governor Mario Cuomo, I don’t know anyone better to ask this question of: You once wrote a letter to your granddaughters; what, Grandpa Cuomo, what would you now say to those little girls? They’re gonna see this on television.
MC: I would say, when you see what happened and you listen to the adults around you, you will hear some of them cursing, you will hear some of them saying, “We’ll get those SOBs!” You will hear some of them saying we need tougher laws and stronger armies. And don’t be surprised, that’s what they will say. But if you listen to them closely over the weeks and months ahead, you’ll see that the wisest of them are saying something else. And they’re saying, “Look, we have to remember those principles we talked about starting 5,000 years ago.” If we want this place to work, there are two things you have to believe in. One, we are all equals on this planet. No matter who has the money and who does not. No matter who is big and who is little. We are all equals. The Jews called it the principles of Tzedakah. The Christians have other words for it. And the second principle: We’re supposed to lock our arms, all of us, and try to make a better world. And by better world, we mean fairer, more intelligent, and even sweeter. Now, all people are impatient when you talk that way. People don’t want to hear it, especially Americans. That’s too unreal; it’s too sweet; it’s too soft; it’s too poetical. You’ve got to get tough. Well, we’re the toughest nation in the world, and we just lost probably . . . probably . . . thousands of people.
WO: Governor, thank you for a few moments of sanity and enlightenment on a terrible news day.
MC: Let’s say a prayer, Bill.
9/11 ONE YEAR LATER . . . TERRORISM . . . AND, AGAIN, WHY HE DIDN’T RUN FOR PRESIDENT
And then, on September 11, 2002—one year later—we again turned to the governor. A stunning reflection on a sad day . . . and more:
WILLIAM O’SHAUGHNESSY: Governor, you were with us exactly one year ago, almost to the sad moment. Your words, which once lifted a nation, also inspired us on that terrible Indian summer day. And so we turn to you again. We can’t figure out, Governor Mario Cuomo, if this is a day for rage and retribution or for remembrance and reflection. How should we feel today, September 11, 2002?
MARIO CUOMO: I’m not sure we know yet, Bill. And I’m not at all sure I’m equipped to provide a formula that our leaders haven’t found yet either. That’s probably why they decided to recite the words of other leaders at other times in the past, because it’s such a daunting—even impossible—challenge to rationalize this for people. And I’m not sure the people want the rationalizing now. I think what they want today is what you want at any wake, any funeral: You want sympathy, you want reaffirmation. You want to have an opportunity to feel your catharsis, to feel your grief, to feel sorry for yourself, to feel sorry for others. I think that’s exactly what we’re doing. I think that’s perfectly appropriate. It’s what we did right after 9/11. I think what happens, however—and it happened after 9/11—is that after a while you return to normalcy. After a while, despite all the pledges you made while you were on your knees and touching his cold hand for the last time before they closed the casket and took him away—or her, or whomever—you made all these pledges about doing things to better yourself and not making the same mistakes you had in the past . . . . What you do, in effect, is you remind yourself of the value that you have left in your life that is the only sure value. And that is the next breath that you are going to draw, the life you still have to lead. And you just absolutely make up your mind that you are going to lead it better. And for a while you do. And then, for most of us, you forget and you lapse back to the old ways, for better or for worse.
And I think a lot of that has happened in the country. It hasn’t completely erased those first feelings. And there’s still a lot of residual commitment to making more of your life. That’s visible all around us. People are staying home more, doing some of the old-fashioned things like hugging their children and making up with old friends.
I think we’re still confused, as a people, about what more we should say by way of the significance of this event. All those unanswered questions are still unanswered—the big one being, Why would any good God let this happen? That still torments us. And the others, the practical questions: Who are these people? Whom do they represent? How do you deter people like them if they’re willing to give up their own lives? If they’re willing to give up their own lives, then you can’t stop them with a threat that you’re going to take their lives. In some cases, it might even encourage them. How do you deal with that? And why are they so angry to begin with?
That question, in the first days, was a legitimate question, but you couldn’t utter it, because if you did you would be called disloyal or you would be denying people their rage. Well, that’s not true. We have a right to be angry. We have a right to use force—we’re using force—and we’ve used it with lethal effect, even against some innocent people, inadvertently. And so we’re fighting the war against terrorism. It’s absolutely clear that it’s not a war that is going to end in a pact or a parade. It’s not a war that’s going to end like other wars do. It’s a war that is going to go on forever—like the war against drugs. And the war against crime. And the war against disease. How do you deal with t
hat? Don’t you have to do something other than bring force? Don’t you have to look for another explanation? And shouldn’t we start answering that question?
And finally, Bill, and this is what really staggers me, I saw a poll that said 61 percent of the people now say they’re ready to go to war with Iraq. What? Ready to go to war with Iraq? Are you sure? Ready to condemn Saddam Hussein? Well, absolutely! Ready to say he’s a threat and should be gotten rid of. Absolutely. But three or four hundred thousand human beings on the battlefield. Your brothers. Your sisters. Your children. Your loved ones. If that poll is anywhere near accurate, then I’m staggered by it.
So what do I have to say? Nothing inspirational, I’m afraid. I’m still trying to think this thing through. I’m still at the point of trying to remind myself that the one sure value is the value of the life I still have. And making the most of it with Matilda and the kids and the people I love and the people who love me. And the little good things I can do if I can find them in a twenty-four-hour day. And trying to do them a little better than I used to. But beyond that I don’t have much to offer.
WO: Governor, sometimes I think we put too much pressure on you. I hope these radio stations are not always taking advantage. But in New York magazine this week, Walter Shapiro, a great writer, said he wasn’t happy that [Mayor Michael R.] Bloomberg was going to read from Lincoln [during the September 11 anniversary memorial at Ground Zero] and that there are no wordsmiths who can lift us up. He said, “Where is Mario Cuomo when we need him?” What would you say today if you were standing there at Ground Zero, at the Pentagon, or in the field in Pennsylvania?
MC: I’m not sure I would have been able to say anything, Bill. If you thought very hard and concluded that you were required to offer an interpretation, then I think there are a number of things you might address. I think the one still puzzling question to me that needs discussion and ventilation deals with the subject of solidarity. There is one thing we all agreed on after we agreed on the heroic quality of the people who were at Ground Zero and who ran into those flames and smoke to save the lives of people they didn’t know and weren’t even sure were there. But they were willing to risk their own lives because they loved humanity so profoundly. The fire people, the emergency people, the police, and all the other New Yorkers and others who came together—the so-called togetherness that we’re all so proud of and still demonstrating by holding hands and chanting and crying together. That solidarity.
Let’s deal with that. What was it? Well, it was a magnificent coming together of the variety of people in this country for a single purpose: to express our anger, to some extent; our sadness, of course; and our commitment to protecting that way of life that [the terrorists] were challenging. All of that is beautiful, Bill. But something like that happened after the Second World War was started—on December 7, 1941. Something like that happened in all the great catastrophes looming that threaten you and your life in any substantial way. You cling to one another.
What happened in the intervals between the crises? Where is that feeling of togetherness and solidarity when you come to the day-to-day catastrophes—the quiet catastrophes like elderly people who can’t find enough wherewithal to take care of themselves in their nursing homes or with prescription drugs. A middle class that’s struggling desperately to stay in place. Police and firemen we lionize and iconize and cheer and hug and kiss and give them reverence, not being paid a decent wage in New York City. Imagine not having the best equipment! And we make a $90 billion budget that doesn’t have a penny for any of them. It says go to your city, go to your state, et cetera. What happened to togetherness when you have a $500 billion tax cut? Forget about politics. Forget you’re a Democrat, a Republican, a supply-sider, or a mushy-headed liberal. You have $500 billion you’re about to give to the one million richest people in America! People like the people we have as clients at Willkie, Farr & Gallagher! And meanwhile, you have people struggling to make ends meet in this country. How can you call that togetherness?
WO: Governor, you’re not going to be pleased that I remind you of this, but as we listen to you we’re aware that a lot of people in this damn republic, in this country, wanted to see Mario Cuomo as president of the United States, and I remember Nancy Q. Keefe, a friend of yours and mine, a gifted writer for Gannett for many years, said, “I hope he doesn’t. You can’t have a good man like that as our president.” When you see all this, are you glad you didn’t do it? How do you feel now, years later, when that could have been you down at Ground Zero, called upon to reassure the nation?
MC: When I hear things like that, I immediately think about checking the water in Westchester! And suggesting to people like Nancy and other good Republicans maybe that you should drink the wine instead, because there’s something about that water!
WO: You can try to be glib about it. But people still stop you on the street. It happens every day. They don’t exactly berate you. They just say, “Why the hell didn’t you run?” I’ve seen the frustration.
MC: Bill, the question about running—I wouldn’t even try answering it again, even for you, because I’ve answered it a thousand times and nobody ever listens to the answer. The truth is, the only time I ever took seriously the possibility of running was in 1991. I did announce that I would “look at it.” I did look at it, for two months, as you remember. I did go to the Republicans in Albany who were running the State Senate and say, “Look, if you will make a budget, I will be out of here and I will run for president, and you can’t lose, because if I win then you have a New Yorker in the White House, and that has to be good for New York. And if I lose, you’re rid of me here in New York, and that has to be good for you Republicans!” And I thought for sure they would say, “OK, let’s make the budget!” And they didn’t, as you know, and they wouldn’t, as you also know, and I announced at a press conference that if a budget weren’t made and we were in trouble in that year with a recession and real problems balancing the budget, I said I couldn’t possibly leave. So I had no chance to run. Do I regret that? No, I can’t say I regret it, because I won’t allow myself to say I have any regret about the circumstances of my life, because, overall I’ve been so lucky.
Would I have looked forward to an opportunity to serve at the highest level? I looked forward to serving at the highest level in New York state and did it for twelve years and wasn’t concerned about the attacks it makes on you, or the inevitability of your failure and therefore your unpopularity at moments in time. I enjoyed public service. I was never, however, someone who felt that I am the only person around who can do this job. With the governor’s race, as you recall, I said in 1982 that if Paul Curran, the Republican, had been the Republican candidate, then I wouldn’t have run. I said, I think he’s better than I am! But these other guys, including [Ed] Koch, I think I’m better than they are. And so, O’Shaughnessy, that’s why I ran for governor.
WO: We’re going to have Ed Koch on the radio in just a few minutes. Governor, my point was that CBS has asked you to comment today. The New York Times has asked you to prepare a piece. The Daily News invited you to prepare an essay to explain this day, to put it in perspective. Cindy Adams, the columnist, asked you where you were a year ago. You said in yesterday’s Post, “I was in Manhattan walking to work, and then in a horrifying moment of terror, all that was normal went up in a giant cloud of black smoke. You ask yourself, Why could any good God let this happen? You conclude there is no answer.” And, said Mario Cuomo “You must believe in the next day. Your next break. You have to live and continue to love the people you love. There is no alternative!”
MC: Well, that’s a kind of rough-and-ready and simplistic summary of much of our philosophy—those of us who are trying to claim to believe in a single, powerful source and purpose and call it God. There is no answer to the question of why good people suffer bad things in this life. There never has been. And the answer you come to, the only answer you can come to, is that the surest value you have in life is life itself. And ma
king the most of it. And incidentally, Bill—to say something that you’re probably tired of hearing, with all this confusion about religions and wars in the name of religion and some Muslims feeling that the enemy are the Christians and the Jews, and with people talking about the Crusades, et cetera—the two ideas that are common to every major religion and every ethical humanist, every ethical secularist, every atheist group I know, the two main principles are Tzedakah and Tikkun Olam.
And incidentally, these two principles you would come to, I suspect, if we all were on a desert island, if we never saw a book, never met a rabbi, never had any instruction from our history, if we were just 200 people on a desert island. You would conclude that O’Shaughnessy and I, and all of the rest of us who are human beings, are different than the rocks, different than the fish, different than the trees, different than all the other sorts of life, and we ought to cling together to take care of ourselves. That’s called Tzedakah. Tzedakah is brotherhood. We owe one another respect and dignity as human beings. Call it charity. The ultimate in charity is Tzedakah. And what do you do with this relationship? Well, let’s lock arms and try to make our lives better, because we have in common the ability to reflect, the ability to feel, to love, to think, to act. So let’s get together and try to make the place more comfortable, fairer, stronger, more productive, sweeter, if we can. That’s called Tikkun Olam. That’s the Christian truth. That’s the whole truth. It’s the truth of the Qur’an. It’s the truth of Hinduism. It’s the truth of Buddhism. And of ethical humanism. And secularism. And intelligent atheism. It’s the basic principle. There is no intelligence that goes much beyond that. Except very good guesses about what happens when this life changes form into some spiritual existence.
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