By David K. Shipler
About a
dozen years after September 11, 2001, I asked a class of college undergraduates
what they remembered about the attacks. They had been kids, and those who
answered remembered most vividly their parents’ reactions, not their own. It
was a fascinating illustration of one dynamic of trauma: the response of those
around you figures into how you carry the injury forward. So it has been with
the country’s behavior in the last twenty years.
Chaya
Roth, a Holocaust survivor whose mother and sister were repeatedly sheltered
and saved by non-Jews as they fled across Europe, eventually recognized the
healing effect of the courageous generosity—a post-traumatic syndrome of
another kind. “That is why I never lost faith or hope in people,” she
told me. “If one goes through difficult times, but comes out of these
alive, it is because in the last analysis there was someone who provided help.”
What
has happened among Americans? Yes, at first we rallied in an uplifting sense of
kinship. Three days after 9/11, as I drove to Kent State in Ohio for a
colloquium on race, every American flag hanging from an overpass brought a rush
of mournful pride, almost tears. At the university, during a small reception, a
professor who was surely a star in her church choir suddenly began singing
“America the Beautiful.” Some wept openly, others wept within, both in sorrow
and in celebration of the bonds of harmony.
And then? The administration of President
George W. Bush, combined with local police departments across the country,
proceeded to inflict damage on civil liberties that no subsequent president or
Congress has been brave enough to repair. The FBI was instructed to investigate
every citizen’s tip, no matter how ludicrous or obviously based on personal
vendetta. One FBI agent told me that some of his colleagues shared his distaste
for the strategy, worrying that innocents would be targeted.
As indeed they were. Muslims were surveilled, hounded, and jailed on the slimmest of pretexts, and held for months during slow-paced background checks that uncovered no terrorists but might naturally have sown the seeds of antipathy toward the United States. The consequences for those illegally in the country were so severe that abused wives feared calling the police, and some undocumented Pakistani residents fled from the US to Canada seeking asylum. When Canadian authorities couldn’t process them fast enough, they crammed into churches and homes in northern Vermont or took refuge in their own vehicles in the deep of winter.