Originally published in The Tecumseh Herald, Sept. 9, 2021
It was akin to something out of a Bruce Willis “Die Hard” flick, those images of jetliners hitting the World Trade Center–the two most powerful symbols of the U.S. economic prosperity and globalization–gone in minutes along with the lives of more than 2,300 people. The attack on the Pentagon seemed equally unreal, as if some criminal mastermind from a 007 movie actually succeeded in bringing Washington, D.C. to its knees. And then, the heroics of the ill-fated passengers aboard United Flight 93 who foiled the terrorists’ efforts to fly a plane into the Capitol, immortalized by Hollywood in two separate films.
That was Sept. 11, 2001, America’s Darkest Day, the Pearl Harbor of my generation. It didn’t just happen to New York City or D.C. or in a field in Shanksville, Pa. It happened to our nation. In the days following what became simply “9/11,” people came together, united as a country against the terrorists who dared attack us. We took our fear and panic and fashioned helping hands, donating blood, sending checks to the Red Cross, doing the things we do when our country is in crisis.
But there were other things, too. There were hate crimes and racial profiling targeting Arabs, Muslims, and anyone else who happened to look like they weren’t from “around here.” It’s a state of affairs that continues to this day.
As Americans, we confront our violent past in history classes from a fairly early age. We learn about the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, racial lynchings, the Trail of Tears. More recently, we’ve witnessed tragedies like Columbine and the Oklahoma City bombing. And in January, we watched American citizens attack the U.S. Capitol.
We seem to be on a trajectory of ever-increasing violence with no real end in sight. Hate crimes are soaring. Our country is polarized, with people fighting over election results, voting rights, masking, and vaccinations.
Twenty years ago, we came together as a nation, to work for the common good, the public good–to help each other through a national nightmare.
Today, we shout at one another, we bully and intimidate those who don’t agree with us, we make a public health crisis into a political combat zone. We attack flight attendants on jetliners who ask us to mask up, buckle our seatbelts, and put our trays up. We parade around with flags, banners, and signs sporting obscenities and disparaging commentary against others. We model aggressive and racist behavior for our children and are surprised when white student athletes hurl racial slurs against black student athletes before a competition.
Where is this anger coming from? It’s hard to say. But I know for certain that we need to find a middle ground, a place where we can talk to each other, a place where we respect each other and opinions that differ from our own. Rather than shouting and bullying, we should take a time out and have coffee or a beer together. We cannot know what it is like to walk in someone else’s shoes, so we should strive to walk with them and listen to their story. Who knows? We might learn something in quiet conversation.
This past week, we left Afghanistan, 20 years after we arrived to retaliate against those responsible for the attacks on our nation. If we fail to mend the rift that has come to divide us as a nation, the nearly 3,000 lives lost in 9/11 and the 7,000 lost in the 20-year war on terror were lost in vain.
It’s time to make our way back.
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