It was a clear and sunny morning in Philadelphia on Tuesday, September 11, 2001. The kind of morning that makes you believe the world is orderly, predictable, even beautiful. A cold front had swept through the night before, leaving behind crisp air and cloudless blue skies. I was in Bristol, Pennsylvania, teaching a corporate class on Operational Excellence — twenty-two scientists, engineers, and managers from across the world gathered for their Six Sigma Black Belt training. We had barely begun the session when the news arrived: a plane had struck the North Tower of the World Trade Center at 8:46 a.m. Seventeen minutes later, the second plane hit the South Tower.
We stopped the class and asked travelers to rebook their
flights. The world had changed in an instant.
Late that afternoon, driving home on what should have been a
routine commute, I saw vehicles with banners calling for the extermination of
Muslims. I had lived in the United States for decades. I had worked with people
from every background. I had believed — perhaps naively — that bigotry was a
fringe sentiment, not something respectable people carried in their hearts. But
that day, the masks fell. The hatred was open, loud, and terrifying.
When I reached home, I turned on the television and watched
the endless loop of planes hitting towers, the Pentagon burning, and the fourth
plane crashing in Pennsylvania. For two days, I worked from home, trying to
make sense of what had happened. When I returned to the office on Friday, I
heard whispers — racist, bigoted comments from people I had once respected. It
pained me deeply. A slight push had revealed their inner selves: intolerance,
suspicion, and a willingness to blame millions of innocent people for the
actions of a few. Within hours of the event, several Muslims were lynched; even
bearded Sikhs were not spared. Anyone Muslim-looking was a fair game to the
racists and bigots.
Twenty-five years have passed since that morning. America has
changed — not for the better. The world has changed — not for the better. And
the questions that emerged in the aftermath still haunt us.
In the years since 9/11, countless theories have circulated —
some wild, some plausible, some deeply unsettling. Why were certain Israelis
seen videotaping on top of a white van in a Jersey City parking
lot with the burning towers behind them while they appeared
"happy" rather than shocked? Why were they quietly released? Why did
bomb-like
residues appear in some analyses of the debris? Why did the towers
collapse in ways that seemed, to some engineers, eerily similar to
controlled demolitions? Why did the official
narrative leave so many gaps?
I am not here to endorse any particular theory. But I am here
to say that the unanswered questions have fueled mistrust, especially
among communities who already felt targeted. As a level-headed Muslim, I
understand why some Muslims — seeing endless wars, drone strikes, occupations,
and double standards — feel radicalized against American policies. When a
superpower supports Israeli actions in Palestine without restraint, when it
dismisses Palestinian suffering as collateral damage, when it refuses to act as
an honest broker, resentment grows.
But resentment is not the same as responsibility. Muslim
hatred did not trigger 9/11. As I wrote in 2002, refuting
Bernard Lewis’s disingenuous theories, the roots of the tragedy lie
not in Islam but in political grievances, historical injustices, and decades of
one-sided policies in the Middle East.
The Wars That Followed — And the Innocents Who
Paid the Price
What happened after 9/11 was not justice — it was vengeance.
It was never a “war on
terror,” but a war of
terror, a forever war that reshaped the world in the worst possible
ways.
Afghanistan was bombed relentlessly. Donald
Rumsfeld even boasted that the U.S. had “run out of targets.” What
crime had ordinary Afghans committed? Most had never heard of the World Trade
Center. Their only sin was living in a country where Osama bin Laden had taken
refuge.
Then came Iraq — a nation with no connection to 9/11.
But the neoconservatives wanted war. Israel wanted war. And George W. Bush
wanted revenge for Saddam Hussein’s perceived insults to his father. The world
was told that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction. None were found. Saddam was
hanged. And from the ashes of that war emerged ISIS — a monster far more brutal
than anything that existed before.
The human toll of these wars has been catastrophic. According
to the Cost of War project at Brown University’s Watson Institute for
International and Public Affairs, U.S.-led wars since 2001 have directly or
indirectly killed an estimated 4.5 to
4.7 million people — roughly 940,000 through direct violence and
another 3.6 to 3.8 million from disease, malnutrition, and war-related health
complications. More than 38 million people across Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan,
Yemen, Somalia, the Philippines, Libya and Syria have been displaced by the
post-9/11 wars, either abroad or within their own countries.
It is a scale of suffering that should have forced the world
to rethink its path, yet the opposite happened. The world has not known peace
since. Instead, 9/11 became the launchpad for a global crusade against Muslims.
Zionists, Hindutvadis, radical Buddhist nationalists, and Western Islamophobes
found common cause in portraying Muslims as threats to be contained rather than
citizens to be respected. They passed laws banning hijabs, restricting mosques,
surveilling communities, and demonizing elected officials with Muslim names.
In the United States, Islamophobia surged. CAIR documented
8,683 cases of discrimination last year — the highest ever recorded. Politicians openly called for
Muslims to be expelled from
states. Others claimed that every Muslim in public office was a threat to
national security.
And yet, in this hostile climate, Muslim Americans did
something extraordinary: they organized, mobilized, and won elections.
Zohran Mamdani became New York City’s first Muslim mayor.
Abdul El-Sayed won the Democratic Senate primary in Michigan. Muslim
representation in Congress may soon reach historic levels. These victories were
not handed to them. They were earned through grassroots organizing, coalition
building, and moral courage.
But even now, Mamdani faces attempts to bar him from attending
the 9/11 commemoration ceremony — in the city he leads. Meanwhile, Rudy
Giuliani, a convicted felon who
spent 25 years milking 9/11 for
personal gain, is welcomed with open arms.
The hypocrisy is staggering.
Another dark legacy of 9/11 is torture. The CIA
ran black sites across the world. Medical professionals helped design and
monitor torture techniques. Prisoners were waterboarded, beaten, deprived of
sleep, and subjected to horrors that violated every moral and legal standard.
And no one was held accountable.
Obama
acknowledged, “We tortured some folks,” but refused to prosecute
anyone. The architects of torture were promoted — Gina Haspel became CIA
director, Avril Haines became Director of National Intelligence, and others
rose to prestigious positions in government, academia, and the private sector.
This impunity set the stage for future abuses. When leaders
are not punished for crimes, they repeat them.
The Autocratizing World We Inherited
The last 25 years have seen a global slide toward
authoritarianism. Trump, Modi, Netanyahu — leaders who weaponize fear,
nationalism, and religious identity — have reshaped politics. Democracies have
weakened. Inequality has soared. Billionaires multiply while billions struggle
to buy food. Gas prices rise. Wars continue. And truth becomes harder to find.
We are not better off today than we were before 9/11. Not
morally. Not politically. Not economically.
Yet, not everything is lost. Despite the darkness, there is
hope. Despite opposition from powerful lobbies, candidates like Mamdani, Wahab,
and El-Sayed have won elections. Despite Islamophobia, Muslim Americans have
built alliances with Latinos, African Americans, Jews, and progressive whites.
Despite attempts to silence them, they speak boldly for justice, equality, and
peace.
Their victories prove that America is still capable of
renewal.
We may never know the full truth of 9/11. But history teaches
us that truth eventually emerges. What matters now is what we do with the
lessons we already have — that peace without justice is an illusion, that
political problems cannot be solved with military solutions, that a superpower
must be an honest broker, not a partisan actor, that hatred breeds hatred while
justice breeds peace, and that accountability is essential because without it,
impunity becomes policy.
Twenty-five years later, the world is more dangerous, more
divided, and more fragile. But it is not beyond repair. If we confront the past
honestly, reject hatred, demand accountability, and insist on justice — real
justice — we can still build a future worthy of those who died on that clear,
sunny morning.
[Dr. Siddiqui is a peace and human rights activist who is
author of several books including: Democracy,
Politics and Terrorism - America's Quest for Security in the Age of Insecurity (2008)]
- South Asia Journal; https://realovi.wordpress.com/2026/09/12/why-9-11-still-haunts-us-and-why-accountability-still-matters-by-habib-siddiqui/
- Older links are:
- 9/11: 25 years later: https://countercurrents.org/2026/09/a-quarter-century-later-the-wounds-of-9-11-still-shape-our-fate/;
- https://realovi.wordpress.com/2026/09/12/why-9-11-still-haunts-us-and-why-accountability-still-matters-by-habib-siddiqui/;
- New
Age | What we lost, what we learnt, what still haunts us
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