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Mr. and Mrs.President

See How They Ran

On the eve of the second anniversary of Sept. 11, 2001, our memories both serve us and fail us.

For most of us, all it takes is a minor prod for the memories and emotions to come rushing back. It might be the ghastly footage of the twin towers collapsing, a conversation about where you were when the towers fell, a new story about a supervisor who sacrificed his life for his co-workers, the transcript of a woman at the Windows of the World restaurant begging the police for help.

Thanks to the power of television and the awful scale of the events, we were all witnesses, and to some extent all survivors of the carnage. We remember the rawness, the fragility, the shock, the fear, of those awful days, when we saw nearly 3,000 human beings incinerated, when we felt the terror of the global village as we saw just how far hate could pervert people, how much damage could be done by 19 evil-doers spurred on by a nefarious, nihilistic vision embraced by too many collaborators around the world.

Some of us remember that unnerving feeling the first time after Sept. 11 we drove past the gleaming office canyons of any downtown, flew in an airplane, or gathered in a public place. Having seen towers collapsing, planes exploding, mass murder in the most mundane settings, a new fear seized many people miles away from Ground Zero. Some of us remember the tear-stained flow of eulogies for all those loved ones stolen from survivors forever, lives reduced to memories, simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Some of us remember the awkward conversations with our children, with ourselves, trying to make sense of the senseless, trying to reassure in a newly insecure world, trying to stave off the terrorist-induced terror.

It seems sacrilegious and insensitive to the many mourners still imprisoned in pain, but there was something eerily beautiful about those days as well. The vulnerability, fragility, and tragedy brought out a certain tenderness. You could feel it in the air, you could see it in the look of strangers who now shared something in common. We were reminded, albeit harshly, of our common humanity, our common fragility, our shared bonds of citizenship and civilization. Even as we ponder why it takes such ugliness to produce such beauty, we can confess to missing those feelings, and strive to bring more community, compassion, and camaraderie into our lives.

At the time, we assumed this vulnerability would be a permanent condition. In an overused phrase from 24 months ago, we believed "our world will never be the same." Yet for those who did not lose a loved one, for the vast majority with neither a friend nor a relative mobilized in the continuing fight against the terrorists, "our world" quickly returned to normal. We have discovered a resilience to our complacency, a power to our routines, that resists revolution. Like a sinner who vows to reform after a near-death experience – and doesn’t – in subduing the fear of September 11, we also have buried and sometimes killed the resulting idealism, altruism, communalism, and introspection.

Sadly, inevitably, politics intruded as well – especially during this past year. Whereas on Sept. 11, 2001 we were all brothers and sisters, 9/11 soon became a divider rather than a unifier. As the debate over the Iraq war heated up, the memory of Sept. 11 became increasingly politicized. By the spring, in the depressing, anti-intellectual hysteria often driving the Iraqi war debate, "Sept. 11" had become the preserve of the supposed warmongers and imperialists. In disagreeing over how to respond to the global threat of terrorism, wires crossed and George W. Bush was attacked as a greater threat to world peace than Saddam Hussein. Too many who disagreed with the war not only demonized Bush and the United States, but began to rationalize the Sept. 11 mass murders as the predictable response to American "aggression". As the tension worsened, the goodwill dissipated, the feeling of community curdled.

Citizens should disagree over how to fight terror. Bush has an integrated vision and a proactive approach; critics do not see the connections and fear that action is inflammatory. But a disagreement over tactics should not blur Al-Qa’ida’s bloodthirstiness or obscure the attacks’ vicious, unprovoked nature. The fanatic terrorist parasite feeds off Western indecision and vacillation. Osama Bin Laden’s thugs have pathologically long memories – motivated as they are by the loss of Spain to "the Crusaders" 500 years ago. By contrast, too many Westerners have pathologically short memories – deluded as they are by the conceit that everyone thinks like them, and the confusion between explaining phenomena and somehow justifying them.

In contemplating this sober anniversary, we should resurrect our memories of that awful day. Let us turn away from politicking and toward mourning, turn away from finger-pointing and toward community, turn away from debating the military responses and toward evaluating our human responses. We cannot undo the damage – let us at least try to use the painful memories of good lives lost to make our world a better, more humane, more intimate, more friendly place. Let us see, regardless of what happens in the international arena, if we can inject that tenderness from two years ago back into our immediate surroundings and our daily lives.

Gil Troy teaches history at McGill University.