A Mirror on Ourselves

In a few weeks, America will mark the 25th anniversary of September 11, 2001 -- the day 19 al Qaeda terrorists hijacked four commercial airliners and turned them into weapons against the American people. It was one of the darkest days in our nation’s history. Yet from that darkness emerged a remarkable display of light.

We often remember where we were when the attacks occurred. I remember every hour of that day.

As Director of the White House Domestic Policy Council, I had begun the morning briefing Environmental Protection Agency Administrator Christie Todd Whitman when someone pointed to the television behind us, which was reporting that a private plane had struck the North Tower of the World Trade Center. Seventeen minutes later, we watched in horror as a second plane hit the South Tower. We knew America was under attack.

The rest of the day unfolded in a march of time. I returned to my West Wing office. After the Pentagon was struck, and there were reports of another incoming plane, the Secret Service told all of us to run from The White House grounds. Soon afterward, some of us were summoned to the President’s Emergency Operations Center beneath The White House, where we discussed next steps and watched Secretary of Transportation Norm Mineta oversee the unprecedented grounding of every civilian aircraft in American airspace. Later I traveled to FEMA, where officials were coordinating support for New York and the Pentagon, and a town we would later learn was called Shanksville, Pennsylvania. I carried back to The White House the Emergency Declaration authorizing federal disaster assistance for President Bush’s signature.

The domestic agenda that had filled our days—education reform, faith-based partnerships, election reform, and other priorities—was immediately eclipsed by protecting the nation. But something else happened that deserves equal remembrance.

The American people responded not only with resolve but with extraordinary generosity and compassion.

President George W. Bush captured the moment when he reflected, “after America was attacked, it was as if our entire country looked into a mirror and saw our better selves.”

I saw it every day. Our emails were overwhelmed — and the phones at The White House rang constantly — with offers of help. The White House operator connected me with a husband and wife from Seattle who owned a restaurant. With commercial flights grounded nationwide, they had loaded their van with cooking equipment and supplies and had begun driving 3,000 miles to New York City to feed exhausted firefighters, police officers, construction workers, and volunteers at Ground Zero.

They were hardly alone.

Journalist William Langewiesche, who chronicled the recovery at Ground Zero in American Ground: The Unbuilding of the World Trade Center, described how New Yorkers first fled the devastation but then experienced “a reversal” in which people “began moving toward the disaster rather than away from it.” The response, he wrote, was spontaneous, crossing every social and economic boundary. By nightfall, generators, equipment, food, medical supplies, and volunteers poured into Lower Manhattan. Americans were not waiting to be asked. They simply came.

Raising the Flag at Ground Zero, photograph by Thomas E. Franklin.

That spirit spread far beyond New York. Blood banks overflowed. Houses of worship opened to all and were filled. Volunteers appeared in every community. Americans discovered again that citizenship is more than a legal status; it is a covenant of mutual responsibility.

President Bush understood that this awakening should not become a passing emotion. He repeatedly urged citizens to reflect a culture that “built upon the millions of acts of kindness and decency and service” that emerged after September 11.

He created a coordinating council across the Cabinet and a White House office called Freedom Corps to expand opportunities for Americans to serve. He grew national service programs -- the Peace Corps, VISTA, Senior Corps, AmeriCorps, NCCC, and Conservation Corps – to among their highest levels then and since and created new service opportunities to respond to disasters of all kinds. He created a volunteer website that tens of millions of Americans accessed to find a volunteer opportunity in their communities. He issued the call to service in his State of the Union Addresses, during 42 Presidential events, and every time he disembarked from Air Force One to visit with heroic volunteers.

He reminded the American people that democracy depends not only on what government does but on what citizens willingly do for one another.

Perhaps no act of leadership better illustrated this conviction than his visit to the Islamic Center of Washington just six days after the attacks. Removing his shoes before entering the mosque, he declared: “The face of terror is not the true faith of Islam. Islam is peace.” He reminded Americans that millions of Muslim Americans were loyal citizens, neighbors, physicians, teachers, soldiers, and first responders. At a moment when fear could easily have become prejudice, he chose moral clarity over political convenience.

There were other moments then that now seem almost unimaginable. When President Bush entered the House chamber for his address to the Joint Session of Congress after the attacks, Senate Majority Leader Tom Daschle, a Democrat, embraced him before the nation. Our leaders understood that some things stood above politics.

That memory has become more poignant with time.

Today I see the same spirit of service and compassion in communities all over the country. But, we too often do not see that spirit reflected in our national leaders and the culture they are fostering. I hear again and again from Americans across all sorts of divides how they wish to see their nation reflect the collaborative spirit they see in their communities.

Our public life too often rewards outrage more than understanding, contempt more than persuasion, and tribal loyalty more than constitutional fidelity. The language of humiliation has displaced the language of humility. The pursuit of political victory too often eclipses the pursuit of the common good. Respect for one another has too often veered toward retribution against our perceived enemies. Power has replaced persuasion, even to the point of violations of the rule of law.

History teaches us that democracy depends upon habits of character in ourselves as citizens and in our leaders – such as humility, courage, restraint, perseverance, reconciliation, service, and a willingness to place country above self. These are not sentimental virtues. They are the civic architecture of a free people.

That is the central lesson of More Perfect’s In Pursuit initiative, drawing wisdom from the lives of former Presidents and First Ladies. Across profound differences in ideology and circumstance, they remind us that America’s greatest leaders succeeded not because they were flawless but because, in decisive moments, they summoned virtues to inspire our better angels.

George Washington modeled humility. Abigail Adams advocated for inclusion. Abraham Lincoln married moral conviction with charity. Franklin Roosevelt inspired confidence at a time of fear. John Kennedy asked us to contribute to our country. Ronald Reagan reminded Americans that freedom requires optimism. George W. Bush called a wounded nation to compassion, service, and unity.

The 25^th anniversary of September 11 should be more than an occasion for remembrance. It should also be an examination of conscience.

Terrorists sought to convince us that fear would define our future. Instead, out of a remarkable season, courage became contagious. Compassion outran hatred. Service overwhelmed despair. Strangers became neighbors. The nation looked, as President Bush observed, into a mirror and saw its better self.

That mirror has not vanished. It waits for us still. The better country we glimpsed was never an illusion. It is the spirit that built a startup nation and vested power in people. It remains a possibility, whenever leaders summon our highest virtues instead of our deepest grievances, and whenever citizens remember that the strength of a democracy is measured less by the passions it inflames than by the character it forms.

Perhaps the most fitting memorial to those we lost on September 11 would not be another ceremony. It would be a renewal of the civic character they inspired—a republic that again reflects the courage, humility, compassion, and common purpose that, for one unforgettable season and years that followed, revealed the very best of America.