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The "pit" which constitutes the site of the World Trade Center remains many things to many people. For some, a crime scene; for others, a battlefield of war. For some, the sacred space of a burial ground; for others, real estate. For some, a rallying point for the president's re-election; for others, a tourist destination. Since nature abhors a vacuum, I can understand the gravitational pull this empty space exerts on everything from the Hudson River to political figures.
Yet at the same time, there is an odd value to empty spaces. Two years after the September 11th attacks that took my brother's life, it is astounding to consider the extent to which those attacks remain unexamined: not just the circumstances of that morning, when terrorists ruled our skies, unchallenged, for two hours, but the facts that surround those attacks and those who planned and financed them. These spaces remain empty of information, just like the empty spaces in this summer's "Joint Inquiry into Intelligence Community Activities Before and After the Terrorist Attacks of September 11, 2001."
While these unparalleled attacks on US soil might have provided a lifetime diet of red meat to investigative journalists, we are told that the media this year will be cutting back its September 11th coverage. Instead, the focus will be on family members who have "moved on"--reminding me of a newspaper headline a few days after the fall of Baghdad (and the dropping of 14,000 bombs) which announced that Iraq was "returning to normal."
Why the rush to move on, absent adequate time for thought, healing and investigation? The past two years have shown us. The vacuum that persists around the events of 9/11 remains a gray area into which anything can be suggested about anyone: that Saddam Hussein was responsible for the attacks; that Osama bin Laden was a Saudi outcast rather than an ally and business contact; that we had no warning of the attacks, and no way of deterring them; that the terrorism that day signaled a millennial clash of civilizations, rather than a crime committed by 19 hijackers; that the air quality in Lower Manhattan was safe, and life should go on uninterrupted; and that only more bombs could prevent the creation of more holes like the 18-acre site that remains so empty and yet so full of innuendo, insinuations and half-truths.
September 11th will serve to fill other spaces as well. On that day--surely no accident--London will be hosting Europe's biggest arms fair: "Defence Systems & Equipment International," a global trade show for weapons dealers. Even as I'm horrified by the poor taste, I'm heartened that one of the conferences there will be entitled, "Multinational Defense in a Connected World," even if the topic seems a few years too late and a few clicks outside of Donald Rumsfeld's radar.
Yet back in New York, as I descend into the "pit" that day, I will be filling the hole in a different way: with memories of the thousands of people who died there, and the millions of expressions of love they would have brought into this world; with the realization that our losses are linked to the losses of thousands of families around the world, not only in Afghanistan and Iraq, who have suffered death, dislocation and economic suffering as a result of terrorism and war; and with the acknowledgment that this space belongs to no one but the victims--all of them--of September 11th.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
The "pit" which constitutes the site of the World Trade Center remains many things to many people. For some, a crime scene; for others, a battlefield of war. For some, the sacred space of a burial ground; for others, real estate. For some, a rallying point for the president's re-election; for others, a tourist destination. Since nature abhors a vacuum, I can understand the gravitational pull this empty space exerts on everything from the Hudson River to political figures.
Yet at the same time, there is an odd value to empty spaces. Two years after the September 11th attacks that took my brother's life, it is astounding to consider the extent to which those attacks remain unexamined: not just the circumstances of that morning, when terrorists ruled our skies, unchallenged, for two hours, but the facts that surround those attacks and those who planned and financed them. These spaces remain empty of information, just like the empty spaces in this summer's "Joint Inquiry into Intelligence Community Activities Before and After the Terrorist Attacks of September 11, 2001."
While these unparalleled attacks on US soil might have provided a lifetime diet of red meat to investigative journalists, we are told that the media this year will be cutting back its September 11th coverage. Instead, the focus will be on family members who have "moved on"--reminding me of a newspaper headline a few days after the fall of Baghdad (and the dropping of 14,000 bombs) which announced that Iraq was "returning to normal."
Why the rush to move on, absent adequate time for thought, healing and investigation? The past two years have shown us. The vacuum that persists around the events of 9/11 remains a gray area into which anything can be suggested about anyone: that Saddam Hussein was responsible for the attacks; that Osama bin Laden was a Saudi outcast rather than an ally and business contact; that we had no warning of the attacks, and no way of deterring them; that the terrorism that day signaled a millennial clash of civilizations, rather than a crime committed by 19 hijackers; that the air quality in Lower Manhattan was safe, and life should go on uninterrupted; and that only more bombs could prevent the creation of more holes like the 18-acre site that remains so empty and yet so full of innuendo, insinuations and half-truths.
September 11th will serve to fill other spaces as well. On that day--surely no accident--London will be hosting Europe's biggest arms fair: "Defence Systems & Equipment International," a global trade show for weapons dealers. Even as I'm horrified by the poor taste, I'm heartened that one of the conferences there will be entitled, "Multinational Defense in a Connected World," even if the topic seems a few years too late and a few clicks outside of Donald Rumsfeld's radar.
Yet back in New York, as I descend into the "pit" that day, I will be filling the hole in a different way: with memories of the thousands of people who died there, and the millions of expressions of love they would have brought into this world; with the realization that our losses are linked to the losses of thousands of families around the world, not only in Afghanistan and Iraq, who have suffered death, dislocation and economic suffering as a result of terrorism and war; and with the acknowledgment that this space belongs to no one but the victims--all of them--of September 11th.
The "pit" which constitutes the site of the World Trade Center remains many things to many people. For some, a crime scene; for others, a battlefield of war. For some, the sacred space of a burial ground; for others, real estate. For some, a rallying point for the president's re-election; for others, a tourist destination. Since nature abhors a vacuum, I can understand the gravitational pull this empty space exerts on everything from the Hudson River to political figures.
Yet at the same time, there is an odd value to empty spaces. Two years after the September 11th attacks that took my brother's life, it is astounding to consider the extent to which those attacks remain unexamined: not just the circumstances of that morning, when terrorists ruled our skies, unchallenged, for two hours, but the facts that surround those attacks and those who planned and financed them. These spaces remain empty of information, just like the empty spaces in this summer's "Joint Inquiry into Intelligence Community Activities Before and After the Terrorist Attacks of September 11, 2001."
While these unparalleled attacks on US soil might have provided a lifetime diet of red meat to investigative journalists, we are told that the media this year will be cutting back its September 11th coverage. Instead, the focus will be on family members who have "moved on"--reminding me of a newspaper headline a few days after the fall of Baghdad (and the dropping of 14,000 bombs) which announced that Iraq was "returning to normal."
Why the rush to move on, absent adequate time for thought, healing and investigation? The past two years have shown us. The vacuum that persists around the events of 9/11 remains a gray area into which anything can be suggested about anyone: that Saddam Hussein was responsible for the attacks; that Osama bin Laden was a Saudi outcast rather than an ally and business contact; that we had no warning of the attacks, and no way of deterring them; that the terrorism that day signaled a millennial clash of civilizations, rather than a crime committed by 19 hijackers; that the air quality in Lower Manhattan was safe, and life should go on uninterrupted; and that only more bombs could prevent the creation of more holes like the 18-acre site that remains so empty and yet so full of innuendo, insinuations and half-truths.
September 11th will serve to fill other spaces as well. On that day--surely no accident--London will be hosting Europe's biggest arms fair: "Defence Systems & Equipment International," a global trade show for weapons dealers. Even as I'm horrified by the poor taste, I'm heartened that one of the conferences there will be entitled, "Multinational Defense in a Connected World," even if the topic seems a few years too late and a few clicks outside of Donald Rumsfeld's radar.
Yet back in New York, as I descend into the "pit" that day, I will be filling the hole in a different way: with memories of the thousands of people who died there, and the millions of expressions of love they would have brought into this world; with the realization that our losses are linked to the losses of thousands of families around the world, not only in Afghanistan and Iraq, who have suffered death, dislocation and economic suffering as a result of terrorism and war; and with the acknowledgment that this space belongs to no one but the victims--all of them--of September 11th.