“Freedom itself was attacked this morning by a faceless coward. And freedom will be defended.”The memory most often recounted by those in New York on September 11th must be how clear and blue the sky was that day. I, for one, will never forget that sky. It was unblemished, a pure cerulean dream. And then came the cloud, though it was not the sort that carried rain—it held the sins of men. When the wind blew north the next day, I breathed in that cloud—that acrid, deathly thing—and I, and all Americans, have borne its burden ever since.
But many Americans do not see this burden for what it is, for it is not simply a grief for the events of that day. One of the lessons of September 11th should have been that events do not stand in isolation: causes extend far and wide, in time and space, and so do consequences. And perhaps now, more than ten years ago, there is a greater understanding among the general public of the hidden nature and history of U.S. foreign policy. I know that my own understanding and perception of things has grown and changed. Albeit I was only 17 on that fateful day, a college freshman for a mere week, but having been a JROTC cadet in high school, required to deliver a weekly presentation on international issues, I fancied that I was more knowledgeable than most my age. It turned out that I was quite in the dark. So, after September 11th, I wondered “why?” Many Americans did, and some even asked it of our leaders. But the answer they received was deceit.
In the days following that infamous Tuesday, I watched no television, avoiding the news or tuning it out when it happened to be on in the room. Even then I felt uneasy about the effects such programs would have on my conception of recent events. I saw the effects that it had on the people around me—their anger, their impetuousness—which seemed counterproductive given the moment.
So it was only second-hand that I learned of the explanation being proclaimed by our government for the attacks. I remember the moment fairly well because it was the first time my father and I had a substantive disagreement about politics and world affairs. A Vietnam vet, he had opposed my joining the JROTC, believing that it would lead me into the Armed Forces. Having been a draftee, he held that he had done enough service for everyone in his family. But, somehow, he still believed that the United States was a benevolent force in the world and that anyone who opposed America must be wrong. At the time, I believed this as well. But for him, being a lifelong New Yorker, having worked a block away from the World Trade Center for 20 years, having watched the towers being built during his lunch hours, an attack on New York ossified a loathing that needed no explanation for its persistence, only a direction for its emittance.
The scene took place during a car ride near my family's home. We were, of course, talking about September 11th. My father informed me that Osama bin Laden and his terrorist network, al Qaeda, were the prime suspects. I had heard of them before, having been familiar with the attack on the U.S.S. Cole and the embassy bombings in Africa. In those cases, I had never asked “why?” Perhaps because they took place far away, or because the casualties were not that great. But at this moment, I did ask, “why?” I asked, “do they know why they did this?” My father, his voice laced with scorn, replied, “because they hate our freedom. They hate our way of life, and they want to destroy it.”
“But that doesn't make sense.”
“Why not?”
“It doesn't seem like a good reason. They don't like the way we live? What does that have to do with them?”
“I don't know. It doesn't matter. They're ideologues. They're crazy bastards.”
“Is this the reason they gave? That Osama bin Laden gave? Has anyone asked him?”
“Why the hell should we ask him?”
“Because there has to be more to it than that.”
After which one side of the conversation devolved into epithets and evasions. But it turns out there was far more to it than that, although I wouldn't know this until much later. Listening to our leaders, though, one would have been led to believe that these “enemies of freedom” hated not only that ideal contained in their appellation but “our value system”, “our political system”, and “democracy” in general as well. They “resented” our “successes of society.” They targeted America because it's “the brightest beacon for freedom and opportunity in the world” and “freedom's home and defender.” But this wasn't an attack just on the United States, it was an attack “against civilization.” The United States was “called to defend freedom” from those whose goal was “remaking the world” by “imposing its radical beliefs on people everywhere,” whose objectives were to “change our way of life” and “restrict our freedoms.” But it wouldn't be al Qaeda or Osama bin Laden or the Taliban that accomplished this latter feat—it would be you, Mr. President.
But even among the lies there was truth hidden, accessible to those with the background knowledge to fill in the gaps. It's amazing how differently one can understand the following passage from Bush's September 20th address to Congress given a different set of beliefs—how differently I understood it then and how I understand it now:
Americans are asking, why do they hate us? They hate what they see right here in this chamber -- a democratically elected government. Their leaders are self-appointed. They hate our freedoms -- our freedom of religion, our freedom of speech, our freedom to vote and assemble and disagree with each other. They want to overthrow existing governments in many Muslim countries, such as Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Jordan. They want to drive Israel out of the Middle East. They want to drive Christians and Jews out of vast regions of Asia and Africa. These terrorists kill not merely to end lives, but to disrupt and end a way of life. With every atrocity, they hope that America grows fearful, retreating from the world and forsaking our friends. They stand against us, because we stand in their way.
Imagine now that you believe that, for the most part, the United States government is a benevolent force in the world. You do not know much about the history of U.S. intervention, and what you do know, or think you know, is that the U.S. intervenes, if not always, then most of the time, for the good of the people of that nation in which it intervenes—or, at the very least, for the good of the American people. This is what many Americans believed then; this is what many Americans believe today. This is what I believed on September 11th. And so, even though I had questions, even though I could not accept the talk about the terrorists wanting to change everyday life in America, even though I thought there might be something more to the explanation than what we were hearing, I believed that these people, these terrorists, attacked the United States because it supported freedom and democracy in countries where they sought fundamentalism and totalitarianism.
I believed this for a long time. My awakening was painfully slow, partially because my interest in politics and world affairs lagged in college. I became frustrated with political rhetoric, with turbid debates and
ad hominems. I stopped paying attention to the news. It wasn't until late 2007, when the National Intelligence Estimate on Iran's nuclear program was released, that my interest was renewed. I wondered why there was such tension between the U.S. and Iran. This time, instead of just wondering, I picked up some books. I began to read about the history of U.S.-Iran relations. I uncovered that hidden history about the Anglo-Iranian oil company, now known as British Petroleum; about the reprehensible way the British government treated the Iranian people; about Mohammed Mossadegh's plan to nationalize the oil company; about the failed attempts of the British government to overthrow the duly elected Prime Minister; and about the successful coup staged by our own CIA, planned in the basement of the U.S. embassy, to install the Shah of Iran, whom the United States then proceeded to support for two decades in his bloody repression of his own people. It was this repression that led to the Islamic revolution. When people ask, “why does the United States have such a sour relationship with Iran?” they are often told it's because of the hostage crisis, or because the Iranian regime is a totalitarian regime that, by its very nature, hates America. But that the United States bears some responsibility for this state of affairs is rarely explained.
I read voraciously and began to see this same pattern play out in the histories of many U.S. relationships. What I didn't understand on September 11th, but what I do understand now, is that some people are angry at the United States not because it supports freedom and democracy around the world, but because it supports just the opposite. From the Shah of Iran to Pinochet to Suharto, for decades, the United States has been overthrowing democratically elected leaders, sponsoring repressive regimes and international policies, and providing training and funding for death squads in order to control the people and resources of foreign nations. Out of the three governments Bush mentioned in the passage above—Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Jordan—all three were ruled at the time by dictators who served at the pleasure of the United States, often supporting policies that were unpopular with their people in their attempts to appease their “ally”—in particular, policies pertaining to a certain apartheid regime with which the United States colludes in its humanitarian crimes. Two of those countries continue in this state. And it is not toward freedom or democracy or even the interests of the American people that these policies are pursued, but for the gains of the few—the few here and the few there—in those realms the few are all too concerned about: money and control.
This is the history of the United States that you do not learn in school or from major news outlets. This is the history that you must seek after yourself. And it is this history that September 11th compels us to understand.
I know that it is difficult to accept these claims. It was difficult for me to do so. I don't mean to defend bin Laden or al Qaeda but to explain why they have found support in some places, why they have been able to recruit and find refuge amongst some people, why their message has resonated with them. I don't expect anyone to be convinced by what I've written here. What I do hope, though, is that you spend this 10th anniversary not solely in remembrance of the tragedy of that day but in contemplation of the causes and effects. Ask again, “why?” Ask, “what don't I know about U.S. foreign policy?” Ask, “what is the true nature of the governments and international policies the United States supports now and has supported in the past?” Ask, “if I lived under that sort of regime, or was subjected to that sort of policy, and I knew the United States supported it, how would I feel about that country?” Ask, “what do the terrorists and others angry at America say?” Ask, “is current U.S. policy confirming their claims?” Conduct research, don't just rely on the news media or political pundits for your answers. Go back in history, and then go further back, because while some events may no longer live in American public memory, they may be all too alive in the memories of those in foreign countries. Be skeptical and follow the money. Then ask yourself the most important question of all: “what can I do to change this?” That is how we can prevent another September 11th—not by invading or occupying other countries and perpetuating the crimes that the terrorists accuse us of, but by looking within and asking how we can make U.S. foreign policy reflect our true values, the ones Bush himself proclaimed: respect and dignity and human worth.
Ten years distant, I now know that the sky that day was a dream, for the clouds had advanced long before the first plane hit its mark.
