[Congressional Record Volume 150, Number 91 (Tuesday, July 6, 2004)]
[Senate]
[Pages S7571-S7572]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                   AN ARTICLE WRITTEN BY ELIE WIESEL

  Mr. DOMENICI. Mr. President, I do not frequently come to the floor--I 
assume not very many Senators do--calling to the attention of the 
Senate an article that has appeared in ``Parade,'' the magazine that is 
inserted in our Sunday newspapers. But this past weekend I witnessed 
and then read an article entitled ``The America I Love.'' It was by 
Elie Wiesel. I think we all have heard of him. He is a Jewish man who 
was in the concentration camps. He was freed by American soldiers and 
then came to America. He has spent much of his life here, becoming a 
citizen. He has been a professor for a long time at one of our 
universities and has written about 40 books.
  I do not know why this article came up this weekend, but let me read 
excerpts from it, and then I will ask that the entire article be made a 
part of the Record.
  At one point, Mr. Wiesel says:

       In America, compassion for the refugees and respect for the 
     other still have biblical connotations.
       Grandiloquent words used for public oratory? Even now, as 
     America is in the midst of puzzling uncertainty and 
     understandable introspection because of tragic events in 
     Iraq, these words reflect my personal belief. For I cannot 
     forget another day that remains alive in my memory: April 11, 
     1945.
       That day I encountered the first American soldiers in 
     Buchenwald concentration camp. I remember them well. 
     Bewildered, disbelieving, they walked around the place, 
     hell on earth, where our destiny had been played out. They 
     looked at us, just liberated, and did not know what to do 
     or say. Survivors snatched from the dark throes of death, 
     we were empty of all hope--too weak, too emaciated to hug 
     them or even speak to them. Like lost children, the 
     American soldiers wept and wept with rage and sadness. And 
     we received their tears as if they were heartrending 
     offerings from a wounded and generous humanity.
       Ever since that encounter, I cannot repress my emotion 
     before the flag and the uniform--anything that represents 
     American heroism in battle. That is especially true on July 
     Fourth. I reread the Declaration of Independence, a document 
     sanctified by the passion of a nation's thirst for justice 
     and sovereignty, forever admiring both its moral content and 
     majestic intonation. Opposition to oppression in all its 
     forms, defense of all human liberties, celebration of what is 
     right in social intercourse: All this and much more is in 
     that text, which today has special meaning.
       Granted, U.S. history has gone through severe trials, of 
     which anti-black racism was the most scandalous and 
     depressing. I happened to witness it in the late Fifties, as 
     I traveled through the South. What did I feel? Shame. Yes, 
     shame for being white. What made it worse was the realization 
     that, at that time, racism was the law, thus making the law 
     itself immoral and unjust.
       Still, my generation was lucky to see the downfall of 
     prejudice in many of its forms. True, it took much pain and 
     protest for that law to be changed, but it was. Today, while 
     fanatically stubborn racists are still around, some of them 
     vocal, racism as such has vanished from the American scene. 
     That is true of anti-Semitism too. Jew-haters still exist 
     here and there, but organized anti-Semitism does not--unlike 
     in Europe, where it has been growing with disturbing speed.
       As a great power, America has always seemed concerned with 
     other people's welfare, especially in Europe. Twice in the 
     20th century, it saved the ``Old World'' from dictatorship 
     and tyranny.
       America understands that a nation is great not because its 
     economy is flourishing or its army invincible but because its 
     ideals are loftier. Hence America's desire to help those who 
     have lost their freedom to conquer it again. America's credo 
     might read as follows: For an individual, as for a nation, to 
     be free is an admirable duty--but to help others become free 
     is even more admirable.
       Some skeptics may object: But what about Vietnam? And 
     Cambodia? And the support some administrations gave to 
     corrupt regimes in Africa or the Middle East? And the 
     occupation of Iraq? Did we go wrong--and if so, where?
       And what are we to make of the despicable, abominable 
     ``interrogation methods'' used on Iraqi prisoners of war by a 
     few soldiers (but even a few are too many) in Iraqi military 
     prisons?
       Well, one could say that no nation is composed of saints 
     alone. None is sheltered from mistakes or misdeeds. All have 
     their Cain and Abel. It takes vision and courage to undergo 
     serious soul-searching and to favor moral conscience over 
     political expediency. And America, in extreme situations, is 
     endowed with both. America is always ready to learn from its 
     mishaps. Self-criticism remains its second nature.
       Not surprising, some Europeans do not share such views. In 
     extreme left-wing political and intellectual circles, 
     suspicion and distrust toward America is the order of the 
     day. They deride America's motives for its military 
     interventions, particularly in Iraq. They say: It's just 
     money. As if America

[[Page S7572]]

     went to war only to please the oil-rich capitalists.
       They are wrong. America went to war to liberate a 
     population too long subjected to terror and death.
       We see in newspapers and magazines and on television 
     screens the mass graves and torture chambers imposed by 
     Saddam Hussein and his accomplices. One cannot but feel 
     grateful to the young Americans who leave their families, 
     some to lose their lives, in order to bring to Iraq the first 
     rays of hope--without which no people can imagine the 
     happiness of welcoming freedom.
       Hope is a key word in the vocabulary of men and women like 
     myself and so many others who discovered in America the 
     strength to over come cynicism and despair.
       Remember the legendary Pandora's box? It is filled with 
     implacable, terrifying curses. But underneath, at the very 
     bottom, there is hope. Now as before, now more than ever, it 
     is waiting for us.

  Mr. DOMENICI. Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent to print the 
full text of the article in the Record.
  There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

                           The America I Love

                            (By Elie Wiesel)

       Born in Sighet, Transylvania (Romania), Elie Wiesel became 
     a U.S. citizen in 1963. Since then, Wiesel--a Holocaust 
     survivor, Boston University professor and the author of more 
     than 40 books--has become one of our nation's most honored 
     citizens. In 1985, President Ronald Reagan awarded him the 
     Congressional Gold Medal, the highest honor Congress can 
     bestow on a civilian. In 1992, President George Bush 
     recognized Wiesel with the Presidential Medal of Freedom. 
     Wiesel, who has been an outspoken advocate of human rights 
     around the world, won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1986.
       The day I received American citizenship was a turning point 
     in my life. I had ceased to be stateless. Until then, 
     unprotected by any government and unwanted by any society, 
     the Jew in me was overcome by a feeling of pride mixed with 
     gratitude.
       From that day on, I felt privileged to belong to a country 
     which, for two centuries, has stood as a living symbol of all 
     that is charitable and decent to victims of injustice 
     everywhere--a country in which every person is entitled to 
     dream of happiness, peace and liberty; where those who have 
     are taught to give back.
       In America, compassion for the refugee and respect for the 
     other still have biblical connotations.
       Grandiloquent words used for public oratory? Even now, as 
     America is in the midst of puzzling uncertainty and 
     understandable introspection because of tragic events in 
     Iraq, these words reflect my personal belief. For I cannot 
     forget another day that remains alive in my memory: April 11, 
     1945.
       That day I encountered the first American soldiers in the 
     Buchenwald concentration camp. I remember them well. 
     Bewildered, disbelieving, they walked around the place, 
     hell on earth, where our destiny had been played out. They 
     looked at us, just liberated, and did not know what to do 
     or say. Survivors snatched from the dark throes of death, 
     we were empty of all hope--too weak, too emaciated to hug 
     them or even speak to them. Like lost children, the 
     American soldiers wept and wept with rage and sadness. And 
     we received their tears as if they were heartrending 
     offerings from a wounded and generous humanity.
       Ever since that encounter, I cannot repress my emotion 
     before the flag and the uniform--anything that represents 
     American heroism in battle. That is especially true on July 
     Fourth. I reread the Declaration of Independence, a document 
     sanctified by the passion of a nation's thirst for justice 
     and sovereignty, forever admiring both its moral content and 
     majestic intonation. Opposition to oppression in all its 
     forms, defense of all human liberties, celebration of what is 
     right is social intercourse: All this and much more is in 
     that text, which today has special meaning.
       Granted, U.S. history has gone through severe trials, of 
     which anti-black racism was the most scandalous and 
     depressing. I happened to witness it in the late Fifties, as 
     I traveled through the South. What did I feel? Shame. Yes, 
     shame for being white. What made it worse was the realization 
     that, at that time, racism was the law, thus making the law 
     itself immoral and unjust.
       Still, my generation was lucky to see the downfall of 
     prejudice in many of its forms. True, it took much pain and 
     protest for that law to be changed, but it was. Today, while 
     fanatically stubborn racists are still around, some of them 
     vocal, racism as such has vanished from the American scene. 
     That is true of anti-Semitism too. Jew-haters still exist 
     here and there, but organized anti-Semitism does not--unlike 
     in Europe, where it has been growing with disturbing speed.
       As a great power, America has always seemed concerned with 
     other people's welfare, especially in Europe. Twice in the 
     20th century, it saved the ``Old World'' from dictatorship 
     and tyranny.
       America understands that a nation is great not because its 
     economy is flourishing or its army is invincible but because 
     its ideals are loftier. Hence America's desire to help those 
     who have lost their freedom to conquer it again. America's 
     credo might read as follows: For an individual, as for a 
     nation, to be free is an admirable duty--but to help others 
     become free is even more admirable.
       Some skeptics may object: But what about Vietnam? And 
     Cambodia? And the support some administrations gave to 
     corrupt regimes in Africa or the Middle East? And the 
     occupation of Iraq? Did we go wrong--and if so, where?
       And what are we to make of the despicable, abominable 
     ``interrogation methods'' used on Iraqi prisoners of war by a 
     few soldiers (but even a few are too many) in Iraqi military 
     prisons?
       Well, one could say that no nation is composed of saints 
     alone. None is sheltered from mistakes or misdeeds. All have 
     their Cain and Abel. It takes vision and courage to undergo 
     serious soul-searching and to favor moral conscience over 
     political expediency. And America, in extreme situations, is 
     endowed with both. America is always ready to learn from its 
     mishaps. Self-criticism remains its second nature.
       Not surprising, some Europeans do not share such views. In 
     extreme left-wing political and intellectual circles, 
     suspicion and distrust toward America is the order of the 
     day. They deride America's motives for its military 
     interventions, particularly in Iraq. They say: It's just 
     money. As if America went to war only to please the oil-rich 
     capitalists.
       They are wrong. America went to war to liberate a 
     population too long subjected to terror and death.
       We see in newspapers and magazines and on television 
     screens, the mass graves and torture chambers imposed by 
     Saddam Hussein and his accomplices. One cannot but feel 
     grateful to the young Americans who leave their families, 
     some to lose their lives, in order to bring to Iraq the first 
     rays of hope--without which no people can imagine the 
     happiness of welcoming freedom.
       Hope is a key word in the vocabulary of men and women like 
     myself and so many others who discovered in America the 
     strength to overcome cynicism and despair.
       Remember the legendary Pandora's box? It is filled with 
     implacable, terrifying curses. But underneath, at the very 
     bottom, there is hope. Now as before, now more than ever, it 
     is waiting for us.

                          ____________________