A Reluctant Memorial

Full Disclosure: I hesitated even writing a memorial-style post for the anniversary of the 9/11 terror attacks. This is the twelfth anniversary of that day. Considering that people don’t often celebrate twelfth anniversaries with the same gusto or regularity of tenth or fifteenth anniversaries, it’s easy to see my hesitation. But it comes from a deeper place. A place that, over the last twelve years, has turned from sorrow and sadness to anger and bitter resentment. I’m not sure I can write a proper memorial post without those emotions bleeding over into the words.

What happened to us that day? Anyone my age can tell you where they were when they heard about it. I can still recount almost to the minute what happened to me on that Tuesday morning in 2001. I was a 19-year-old kid who thought himself fairly intelligent, but I was blinded to my insular view of global politics and religious fanaticism. I was 11-years-old the first time an attack was made on the World Trade Center. When you’re not even a teenager, things don’t really impact you the way they will later in life. At 19, though, you have a better grasp on the world around you. But there’s always something lurking around the corner waiting to show you just how little you actually know.

So a 19-year-old me had just arrived at Gainesville College for a day of classes. As I parked, an announcement came over the radio that a plane had struck the World Trade Center. The initial confusion stated that it was a small plane, but that confusion was set to give way to horror. At first, the radio report called it an accident. Inside, though, some malevolent thought said it was more than an accident. By the time I had gathered a professor and a couple of fellow students and made our way to the library, we turned on the TV just in time to see the second plane hit.

The room went quiet. A few people wept. I stood by my friend Matt, older and more world-wise than I, who postulated that “Osama bin Laden had screwed himself over” by doing this. I didn’t even know that name. I could only watch. The news filtered in that the Pentagon had also been hit. I went to my next class professor and said I was going home. Classes were eventually canceled for the rest of the day. I made it home and went next door to be with my grandparents for a time. I walked in just in time to see the towers collapse under the weight of melting steel and blazing fires.

Physically and mentally I was unprepared for a day like that. I was unprepared for the next few weeks. I lived at the time under a direct flight path from the Northeast to Atlanta. It wasn’t uncommon to see several planes at a time flying toward Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. But for a week, all flights were grounded. It was odd not to see a plane in the sky. In short, the actions of that time left me in turmoil.

The turmoil, though, eventually gave way to a darker emotion: bloodlust. I awaited the news that we as a nation had struck back at those responsible. But that news was slow in coming. Because, unlike any war in our past, we weren’t fighting a nation. No other country had sanctioned the attack. Instead, we found ourselves in a war with a nebulous threat beholden to a religion, and an even more nebulous goal of how victory over this threat would be attained.

Our armed forces eventually found themselves inside Afghanistan, tracking down Al Qaida members sheltered by the Taliban. The leader of this group, Osama bin Laden, was in hiding. He, of course, became the figurehead of our operation. Getting him would be a key goal. But the 19-year-old me was now replaced by a 20-year-old me with a far different view of the world. Like many around me, I now understood that capturing or killing bin Laden would, in all likelihood, make things worse. Retaliation and escalation had become military buzzwords.

And now I’m 31. It is sometimes hard to believe that my entire 20s have come and gone since 9/11, but they have. I’ve graduated college and gotten a job. I’ve bought a house. My grandfather, who I sat beside as the towers fell, has passed on. I’ve become numbed to the world, in a way. The mundane has once more become just that. The war has become just another part of our lives. The Afghanistan operation, which always seemed the most undefined, is expected to see a full withdrawal of American and allied forces by 2014.

Part of this “war on terror” somehow included an ill-advised invasion of Iraq. I’ve waffled on this invasion, as the intelligence at the time seemed to indicate a presence of chemical weapons, leading Congress to authorize the use of force against the Iraqi government. Saddam Hussein, a threat in the late 1980s and early 1990s (but an ally prior to that), was finally overthrown. He was executed by his own people. The last American forces left Iraq in 2011.

We grew tired of war, as a nation. We had seen enough war during the administration of George W. Bush to last for several lifetimes. So, in 2008, the electors of this country chose Barack Obama to be the next President. He spoke with conviction about bringing soldiers home, and seemingly promised to end the war.

If you want to stop reading here, I’ll not blame you. I don’t think I can keep the vindictiveness out of my written voice any longer.

For all the bitter complaint about George W. Bush and his pro-war policies, we’ve not seen a radical change in the form of Barack Obama. The United States still acts as a kind of global police force. As the Arab Spring uprisings burst forth, and civil war broke out in Libya, President Obama decided that military intervention was necessary in the African nation. NATO forces, under an allowance from the United Nations, launched a series of strikes on the Libyan Army, aiding the rebel forces in overthrowing Muammar Gaddafi. This decision was met with widespread consternation among the American public.

After all, we were tired of war. We’re still tired of war. We know that anything we do will be met with some form of retaliation. Example: after aiding the rebel forces overthrow Gaddafi’s regime, with Gaddafi being executed on October 20, 2011, less than a year later, on the 11th Anniversary of 9/11, the American diplomatic mission in Benghazi was attacked by heavily-armed Islamic militants. The instability in Libya, partially a result of American and NATO forces aiding the rebels, had allowed these radicalized Muslims to gain foothold.

The Administration responded by saying the militants were angered by a youtube video that was derogatory towards Islam. Then confusion began. White House spokesman Jay Carney held tight to the “video” line, even as US Ambassador to the UN Susan Rice began to say that the attack was a spontaneous reaction to protests in Cairo that somehow evolved into an attack in Benghazi, even though they are nearly 700 miles apart. Rice, though, also continued the Administration’s talking point about the youtube video, saying “Based on the best information we have to date, what our assessment is as of the present is in fact what began spontaneously in Benghazi as a reaction to what had transpired some hours earlier in Cairo where, of course, as you know, there was a violent protest outside of our embassy—sparked by this hateful video.”

Even the Libyan President admitted the attack was premeditated, knowing the violent radical Islamists had taken root in Libya. But the Administration held their ground. Even as the world around them admitted that the attack was not a spontaneous reaction to an insulting video, the President and his cabinet seemed to do nothing but repeat their talking point.

Now, a year later, we still don’t know all the details about Benghazi. But we can’t worry about that too much, as President Obama has now turned his gaze toward Syria, where months of civil war between rebel forces and the government of Bashar al-Assad have degenerated to the use of chemical weapons.

The American people have spoken quite loudly that they do not want to be involved in Syria. But we’re now faced with a sticky situation, as Vladimir Putin has led Russia to the forefront of Syrian diplomacy. Through his actions, Putin has made the US, and Barack Obama in particular, look rather weak and ineffective.

See, in an off-teleprompter, off-script moment, Obama issued a “red-line” statement to Syria, stating that if the Assad regime was found to use chemical weapons, they would then be dealt with harshly. Chemical weapons were used in Syria (though, exactly by whom is still a bit of a mystery). Even our greatest ally, Great Britain, is staying clear of the situation. The Parliament has refused to go along with the Prime Minister’s request for use of force. Meanwhile, Vladimir Putin has seized the opportunity and, in essence, taken the driver’s seat on Syria.

It now appears as though Syria will hand over “all” of their chemical weapons. Of course, inspections will follow. I imagine these inspections will be quite similar to the inspections in Iraq, where trucks were seen leaving inspection sites mere hours before inspectors arrived. Bashar al-Assad will maintain a stockpile of chemical weapons, Putin and Assad will say to the global community that “all” of the weapons were handed over. Then, the nightmare scenario exists in which the regime once more uses chemical weapons on the rebel forces, only to say it was the rebels using them on themselves in effort to make Assad look like the villain.

Perhaps I’m being jaded by saying that. I’m so tired of our armed forces playing police for the world. But really, this is the American empire. In the 1940s, Imperialism was coming to an end. Around that same time, the United States were finally taking the stage as a global superpower. Looking back at the Second World War, you can see that the United States would’ve liked to set up an Empire like the British had. But that time was ending. Britain gave up the vast majority of its colonies. Germany was beaten back to its original territory, more or less. But the US was denied its Imperial desire. So what happened? Military bases. In almost every quarter of the developed world, the United States has some form of military presence. If that’s not Imperialism, then I’m not entirely sure what is.

I looked at Facebook early this morning and saw that several of my friends had posted things like “the attack on 9/11 was meant to divide us, but instead if united us and made us stronger,” or “we will never forget where we were” or “Never Forget 9/11.” While I agree with the sentiment, I fear we’ve already forgotten. No, we’ve not forgotten that day, although the memory has started to fade. The sun-drenched wreckage we saw after the smoke cleared is now part of the yellowing pages of history. No, we’ve forgotten what it was to be Americans…what it was to be free.

9/11 proved to be the genesis of Homeland Security. It brought about an enhanced and empowered NSA. You can’t get on an airplane now without taking off your shoes and subjecting yourself to a full-body scan. Our emails and phone records are subject to NSA “meta-data” gathering. And there are too many of us in this country who say “well, I’m not doing anything wrong, so why should I care.” You should care because, every year since 9/11 it seems we become less free. We sacrifice more and more essential liberty in the name of security that cannot be guaranteed.

We’ll never forget. I just hope we remember.