Fourteen years later, what does 9/11 mean to us?

Fourteen years ago, tragedy befell our nation. Striking at the core of the republic, nineteen Islamic militants boarded commercial airliners scattered along the eastern seaboard and carried out a sinisterly orchestrated plot to destroy the lives of thousands of innocent people. Their crimes of hatred jarred the conscience of Americans everywhere and poisoned the free world with a fear unparalleled in magnitude since the Second World War.

As the horror unfolded on national television, the grind of what was supposed to be a routine Tuesday shuddered to a halt. Parents abandoned work, pulled their children from school, called loved ones, and sheltered at home. Seeing the smoldering remains of the Twin Towers, we shook with enmity and rage. We demanded retribution; we vowed revenge.

{mosads}As end of that day neared, with the blue September sky faded into dusk, the nation writhed in pain. So much had been lost; such destruction and death was unfathomable. A few hours later, the last light of day slipped below the horizon and put an end to one of the worst days in American history.

There, lying in our beds, with nothing but the soft chirp of night insects and the silence of our own thoughts, the truth set in.

We had witnessed symbols of American might crumble with thousands still trapped inside. We watched people leap to their deaths in a desperate attempt to escape the flames. In our minds flashed the faces of hundreds of emergency workers who would never come home, and in our hearts we heard the sobs of those who were still awake in New York and Virginia, sitting by the telephone, waiting for a call that would never come.

Feeling the full weight of the day sink in, a volcanic froth of anguish and fury erupted, swelling in our chests and rising until it burst from our lips, spewing over into the tranquility of the night. Hot tears streamed down our face as we clamored for something—anything—to grasp. We pulled our pillows tightly into our chest, gripped the edges, buried our faces into the seams, and as the last remaining strand of self-control finally snapped, we released a primal cry of agony; a infantile call to God for comfort and mercy that we, for the sake of all we loved, begged would be answered.

For the first time in decades, it didn’t feel safe to be on American soil. And we were afraid.

Of course, we did eventually reclaim that lost sense of security. In the years following 9/11, we endeavored to rid ourselves of the terrible cancer that is terrorism, and as a result, yesterday’s lying awake in trepidation of the future is a far cry from the relative peace and stability we have now.

Sadly, the same cannot be said for other parts of the world. Despite our efforts to cast light unto darkness, there remain places where people cannot afford to forget about terrorism.

Last May, I wrote in the Washington Times about the danger of ignoring the proverbial “wolf at the door.” Since that writing, the snarls of that wolf have only grown louder.

Most recently, in the shadow of the Charlie Hebdo shootings, a lone Islamic militant plotted the slaughter of hundreds aboard a train travelling to Paris. While a chance encounter with four brave passengers spared the lives of those onboard, the disturbing plot left Europeans wary of rail travel.

Earlier in the summer, in Tunisia, another Islamic State gunman took the lives of thirty-eight tourists at a Mediterranean sea resort in Port El-Kantaoui, located two hours to the south of the capital city of Tunis, where, in March, yet another Islamic State massacre ended the lives of twenty-one people at the Bardo National Museum.

In the Middle East, ISIS-controlled Iraq serves as the backdrop for grainy videos depicting gruesome executions and unspeakable acts of human atrocity. Millions of political and religious dissidents are subject to the barbarity of the Islamic State, while women across the region, including American aid worker Kayla Mueller, are forced into sexual bondage. All the while in Iran, Washington Post correspondent Jason Rezaian begins his fourteenth month of imprisonment, despite no legal justification under either Iranian or international law for his incarceration.

If we have learned anything in the fourteen years since 9/11, let it be that the duty of ensuring deliverance from fear rests squarely on shoulders of those who have endured it. America is a nation that bears the scars of a vitriolic hatred irreconcilable with the tenets of freedom and progress. We know the pain of terrorism, and we know how to overcome it.

As we prepare to mark the fourteenth anniversary of that fateful September day, our leaders are preparing to cut a deal that injects upwards of $100 billion into a country that, in the words of President Obama, “supports terrorist organizations like Hezbollah [and] proxy groups that threaten our interests and the interests of our allies, including proxy groups who killed our troops in Iraq.”

It’s neither my intention or my place to judge the merits of the Iran deal. Indeed, maybe the possibility of a nuclear-free Iran is worth overlooking its patent support of international terrorism. All the same, the curious timing of the deal does set the stage for quite a gut-check: does America still have the courage to challenge terror, wherever it resides? Or is terrorism now the status quo?

Has the security we’ve achieved since 9/11 desensitized us from the suffering of the terrorized world? Have we lost the will to help others break the same shackles of fear that bound us on 9/11?

I certainly hope not.

Wheatley is an Army second lieutenant and law student living in Arlington, Virginia. The views expressed are his own.