“Teacher, can you explain to me why America killed Osama Bin Laden and Muammar Gaddafi?”
Joseph shouted this out as I finished explaining the connections between the League of Nations and the United Nations in the dilapidated brick structure nestled into the hillside that was our classroom. Nearing the end of my first week in Uganda this past summer, my class, a group of 14-16-year-old students, thought that Friday afternoon would be the proper time to ask me any question they so desired.
When I turned around, they were all surprisingly seated in the four desk benches of the classroom in their multicolored school uniforms staring expectantly at me for an answer. I was briefly stunned by the direct nature of the question. I later learned that he had heard about Bin Laden and Gaddafi on the radio during a political program that criticized American involvement abroad. Without much in the way of materials, save some chalk and a broken blackboard, I searched for a way to begin.
However, this question was different than the ones before. The boy who asked it could not have known the emotions such a question could conjure up and how complex the answer could be. I started my response with the first thing I could think of—September 11, 2001.
On the board, I drew three pictures—one of the Twin Towers, another of the Pentagon and the third of a field. While I struggled to explain clearly what each image signified to my students, I was struck by how hard it is to honor and remember such a dark day in American history.
Thinking back to that afternoon in the classroom last week when we marked the 13th anniversary of 9/11, I again tried to think about how to properly honor the legacy and memory of that day, if such a way could even exist.
Like many Duke students from the tri-state area, I distinctly remember the horror and shock of 9/11. Having friends whose parents worked in New York City and living just an hour up I-95 in Connecticut gave the attacks a terrifying reality. Recognizing the places I was seeing on television and being wholly unable to grasp the scope yet completely able to understand even at the age of seven what was occurring made 9/11 a day I am unable to forget.
Because many of us were still young at the time, it is hard for us to remember life without 9/11, to remember what life used to be like before it happened. Time continues to march on since 9/11, and America’s leadership in the War on Terror has found new faces and enemies.
9/11 was designated a National Day of Service and Remembrance by Congress in 2009, yet that seems an incomplete way of remembering the day. There’s something more to honoring the memory of 9/11 than simply community service. My Facebook newsfeed was ripe with images and posts saying “Never Forget” or something of that accord last week yet that also seems an improper way to signify all that 9/11 encompasses.
9/11 should not just be a day of social media posts and clever hashtags nor just the occasional community service opportunity. Those things have their place and contribute to our collective remembrance, but alone they do not sufficiently honor the memory of 9/11. 9/11 should signify something more in the ethos of American culture, something explicitly tied to the values that set our democratic experiment apart. 9/11 should be a reminder of our duty as citizens in a democratic nation, a call for political action.
What I mean by political action requires an understanding of our position as citizens of this nation. The American democratic experiment mandates that its citizens participate in the political process by voting or speaking out against injustices in this nation. We follow a long line of students at Duke who have made their voices heard on issues ranging from the Vietnam War to farmworker rights in North Carolina. That process of activism and change over a period of time, overcoming suppression and animosity as in the Civil Rights Movement, is distinctly American. There would be no greater way to honor 9/11 than to combine service and activism, unite the things that are distinctly American in practice.
We were attacked on 9/11 because America represents ideals of freedom and human rights. To uphold those ideals is a challenge that requires our full political participation to hold our elected representatives and government accountable. We can honor the memory of those we have lost on and since 9/11 by exercising those very same rights we have as citizens to shape the future of this country.
I am not asking everyone to join a picket line to protest low wages or voting rights or to overlook the opportunities to serve our communities through hands-on service. We each have our own calling. However, we must regain our desire to shape the future of our communities and be active in making that vision a reality by combining our civic engagement with political action. Social change has always been achieved in this country through the political process, and even though the cost can be high to achieve that change, it is well worth the sacrifice.
If we fail to make political participation a priority, to speak out against abuses of power or in support of social justice, then we forsake our duty as citizens. There is always a place to start, and perhaps voting in this midterm election can be that place. Our political participation must be something we value if we ever want to see progress in this country on a variety of fronts from education reform to protecting the environment.
My hope is that we make political action a part of our honoring and remembering 9/11 creating a legacy that can last more than one day per year.
Jay Sullivan is a Trinity junior. His column runs every other Monday.
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