Everybody’s gearing up for the big commemoration. It’s coming up on ten years since two planes crashed intentionally into New York’s Twin Towers, a third tore into the Pentagon and a fourth crashed in a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. Almost 3,000 Americans died.
I remember reading the New York Times obituaries in the days and weeks after the attacks and being touched by the glimpses they gave into the lives of those who were murdered by 19 Islamist terrorists. I was moved by the photos of the jumpers – those who had no choice but to leap from the burning, smoking towers to their horrible deaths – and the multitude of “Missing Person” fliers tacked to walls and poles and fences bearing smiling photos and brief, loving descriptions of loved ones who worked in the towers and never came home.
I remember how united I felt to my fellow Americans in the weeks after the attacks, and how nice it was to receive support and condolences from other countries around the world. I was among those who stuck American flag decals on the back of our cars and even found myself wanting to be led and represented by the Cowboy from Crawford for a bit.
Then something changed. What was comforting and beautiful became disturbing and unsettling. People started closing ranks and pointing fingers and placing blame and we found out Dubya had been warned in advance of the likelihood of just such an attack and did nothing. (On August 6, 2001, more than a month before the September 11 attacks, the Central Intelligence Agency gave him a daily briefing entitled, “Bin Laden Determined to Strike in US.”)
Dubya took advantage of our fear and vulnerability – exploited them, in fact, and used them to bolster his presidency and justify military action against Iraq, which had nothing to do with the attacks. He used the calamity to strip civil liberties, snatch executive power and marginalize and slander anyone who opposed or questioned him.
Now my six-year-old has to remove her footwear when we fly and be touched by a stranger in a TSA uniform. Now “mosque” and “Muslim” are dirty words and political discourse has become coarser and the changed atmosphere has given rise to Tea Party ignoramuses demanding that government be downsized, the social safety net eliminated and Barack Obama be ridden out of Washington on a rail.
As we approach the 10th anniversary of that dark, sickening day, I have no choice but to be bombarded by images I’ve tried to repress, by retrospectives put together by a lazy media devoid of creativity and new ideas. I have to gird myself for the onslaught of cloying, maudlin, self-absorbed stories featuring teary-eyed, chest-beating Americans waving flags and vowing never to forget.
Forget what? That others despise us because of our foreign policy, wealth, greed and myopia? That our country has spent $1,247,564,448,690 to date on the endless wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and we’re not done yet? That politicians are crass opportunists who will exploit any tragedy to win elections and advance agendas? That human nature can be as ugly as it is beautiful? That we expect our first responders to rescue us but we won’t fund their health care costs when they become sick or injured in the process? That George W. Bush is the Worst President Ever?
Should we also commemorate the 2010 Haiti earthquake every January 12, the one that killed 100,000 people?
Should we also commemorate the East Japan earthquake and tsunami every March 11, the one that killed 15,780, injured 5,929 and left 4,122 missing?
Should we also commemorate the 2004 Indian Ocean earthquake and tsunami every December 26, the one that killed over 230,000 human beings in 14 countries?
Should we take a day to observe how an estimated 864,531 Iraqi civilians have died in Iraq and another 1.5 million have been seriously injured because of us?
Should we take a day to observe how an estimated 8,813 Afghan civilians have died in Afghanistan and another 15,863 have been seriously injured because of us?
I’m truly sorry that people died in New York and Arlington and Shanksville and Manhattan’s stunning skyline changed. There was a lot of heroism on display that day and in the weeks and months that followed. But there was a lot of evil, too – on that day and since – so I want to move on.
And that’s why I’m not wearing black and gluing myself to a television tomorrow.
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