September 11 is rapidly approaching, and just about everyone has an opinion on how that day should be spent.

Some think the day ought to be one of mourning and commemoration. Others think it would be the perfect day to "drop the big one" on Baghdad. I've heard talk of teach-ins at universities where tolerance and appreciation of diversity will be discussed.

My eyes drift five days down the calendar to September 16, which is where Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement, falls this year.

Before you start hollering all sorts of nonsense at me, let me assure all the good people out there that I'm not one of those folks who believe we (Americans, in the collective sense) deserved what happened to "us" last September 11. No person deserves to be killed by another human being. Period. Just so we're clear on that.

The sudden deaths of more than 3,000 people is shocking. That human beings perpetrated such a monstrosity boggles even my quite cynical imagination. The national convulsion and retreat to jingoistic platitudes and mindless flag-waving that followed were sadly predictable, if perfectly understandable. But as time rolls on and we are able to put some perspective on the events of September 11, we ought to consider our own collective need to atone.

Americans didn't invent slavery, but our nation profited more from the peculiar institution than any other. Time and again, our leaders have backed dictators and even totalitarian regimes rather than less easily controlled democratic movements within foreign countries. Our immigration policies are about as liberal as any in the world, but nonetheless they have hurt millions of otherwise innocent people.

We dropped the bomb on Nagasaki. I won't argue about Hiroshima--I think it was a crime, but the arguments for that first use of a nuclear device are compelling. The historical record is quite clear in showing that the Japanese leadership was already making moves to surrender before that second blast. Hiroshima may or may not have saved lives. Nagasaki was murder.

Our adventure in southeast Asia was a tragedy for America, but it destroyed Vietnam. Our imperial treatment of the Caribbean and western hemisphere in general leaves much to be desired.

I'm not trying to create a laundry list of issues here; I'm just hitting a few of the low points in the history of our nation. And I'm not making a case for reparations. The atonement of which I speak is not a cash transaction.

Nor am I trying to "run our country down." Quite to the contrary. Like most chronic dissenters, I happen to believe that the United States is the greatest nation on earth, that the values expressed in the Constitution are worth the price our founding fathers--and many patriots since--paid for with their lives and livelihoods. It's just that I think we can do better. And I know we should try to do better.

We need to understand why those who oppose us consider themselves our enemies. We need to see that many of our actions, while quite possibly taken with the best of intentions, have angered hundreds of millions of people around the world. We need to be engaged with the world, and when we act, we need to work in partnership with others. Our pattern of paternalistic benevolence is partly what has blackened the repuation of our nation.

We are a great nation. And with that greatness has come an astonishing hubris. Some of our leaders actually believe that it is appropriate to "take out" another nation's leader simply because most Americans don't like him.

Back before the Russians worked out how to construct an atomic bomb, a number of civilian and military leaders tried to convince Harry Truman to launch a preemptive nuclear strike on the Soviet Union. There were a number of plans, most of which involved the obliteration of major Soviet cities and industrial centers. Such an act would certainly piss off a lot of people, but those in favor of the plan argued that communism was a greater evil than the wanton murder of millions and the permanent destruction of any international goodwill toward the United States.

Truman didn't take the bait. And while an attack to remove Saddam Hussein from power in Iraq isn't a crime of similar scale, philosophically the plans are tight bedfellows. Because we have the power, we have the right to use it as we see fit. Even if that means a preemptive strike opposed by just about everyone who doesn't happen to be American.

We need to atone for our national sins, to concede our mistakes and resolve to do better in the future. Admitting that we've made mistakes (and will make mistakes in the future) doesn't make us weaker. Rather, power wielded with humility is evidence of a quiet strength. And power shared among many (one definition of a democratic republic) magnifies that strength. Certainly, dialing down the bluster and replacing it with thoughtful discourse would be a good start.

Atonement is a positive act. Painful, difficult, and frightening, to be sure, but positive in the long run. An educated, thoughtful populace may ask questions its leaders don't want asked. That's okay. Maybe then those leaders will think twice before acting like fools.

One can always hope, anyway.

Jon Worley would like to atone for buying a Phil Collins CD 15 years ago, but he's finding it dreadfully difficult to make up for a sin of that magnitude.