Brodhead on 9/11: Remembering Individuals of Great Humanity

Ten years later,
who will ever forget it: the 9/11 attack came out of the clear blue sky. Not
only was there no clue of what was impending: It was a sparkling early fall
morning, the sort of day when the world seems perfectly blessed.

Like all terrorist
acts, the World Trade Center attack aimed to destroy the sense of security in
the existing world; and in that measure it succeeded. That tall tower was a
symbol, a visible image of American global preeminence. Through a calculated
act of symbolic violence, we saw that eminence brought low. The shattering of
the morning's calm carried a further message. It said: No matter how peaceable
things seem, you can never be sure that violence is not at hand, ready to break
in on even the most tranquil scene.

But after awhile,
that day came to have another meaning, very different from the attack's malice
intended. I am sure I am not the only one who remembers the New York Times Portraits of Grief in
which, day after day, week after week, the thousands who lost their lives were
remembered one by one. These were not formulaic obituaries. As they told
stories of baking bread, fixing up old cars, and coaching Little League, they
were glimpses of what each man and woman had especially loved.

The portraits
reminded us that those who were killed were not embodiments of some abstract,
collective entity -- America, or Secular Civilization or The West. Such
dehumanized thinking led to their killing; In reality, these were actual
people, each endowed with a distinct and marvelous humanity. They included
young and old; bosses and office workers; fathers and mothers, husbands and
wives, boyfriends and girlfriends and fiances; people of every religion,
ethnicity, national origin, physical type.  If they embodied anything collectively, it was a society of
inclusiveness and open opportunity, where individuals aren't defined by
abstract labels, and all kinds of people come together every day. 

Ten years after
September 11, 2001, we remember those who lost their lives that day, and Duke
University particularly remembers our six alumni killed in the attack:  Rob Lenoir, Peter Ortale, Todd Pitman,
Todd Rancke, Fred Rimmele, and Michael Taylor. In Mozart's solemn Requiem, we
pay tribute to the lives we have lost. But the deep lesson of 9/11 is that the
power to dehumanize is best countered by our ability to recognize and respect
the humanity of others. This university has the privilege of drawing together
people from every part of American culture and the world, deepening their
understanding, and sending them forth to be a force for good. On this day, we
rededicate ourselves to advancing mutual understanding and mutual respect.