Every September 11, America remembers the worst terrorist attack in our history.
This year, on its 25th anniversary, I hope we remember September 12 as well.
September 11 showed us evil.
September 12 showed us America.
The distinction is important.
On September 11, 2001, terrorists murdered 2,977 people at the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and aboard Flight 93.
But when Americans woke up the next morning, something had changed.
The political arguments that had consumed the country days earlier suddenly seemed small.
American flags appeared everywhere.
People lined up to donate blood.
Americans asked how they could help.
Police officers and firefighters weren’t abstractions. They were heroes.
Members of our Armed Forces weren’t somebody else’s sons and daughters. They were ours.
We rediscovered something we should never have forgotten: America is more than a government.
It is a people.
Twenty-five years later, our country could use a little September 12.
That does not mean we need universal political agreement.
Quite the opposite.
America was built for disagreement.
We have held bitter political arguments since Thomas Jefferson and John Adams were accusing each other of destroying the Republic.
The genius of America is not that we agree.
It is that we can disagree and remain one country.
Somewhere along the way, too many Americans seem to have forgotten that.
We increasingly treat political opponents as enemies rather than fellow citizens.
Cable television divides Americans into ideological camps. Social media algorithms discover exactly what makes us angry and then feed us more of it.
Politicians have learned that outrage raises money.
Activists have learned that fear attracts attention.
And Americans increasingly live in separate political realities.
September 12 reminds us there is another way.
Think about the people who entered the burning towers on September 11.
A firefighter didn’t stop before helping someone and ask how that person voted.
A police officer didn’t ask whether someone was conservative or liberal.
An emergency medical technician didn’t ask about race, religion or party registration.
They saw Americans in danger.
And they did their jobs.
There is a civic lesson there that is much bigger than politics.
Citizenship requires recognizing obligations to people with whom we disagree.
I am a Republican. I believe in limited government, free enterprise, individual liberty and American leadership.
Others passionately disagree with me.
Good.
Let’s have the argument.
Let’s debate taxes. Let’s debate immigration. Let’s debate the size of government. Let’s debate America’s role in the world.
Then let’s vote.
And afterward, let’s remember that the person with the opposing bumper sticker is still our neighbor.
That isn’t weakness.
That is the basic operating system of a free society.
Our enemies understand something we occasionally forget: what makes America powerful isn’t merely our military or economy.
It is our ability to absorb people from every corner of the earth and turn them into Americans.
It is our civil society.
Our churches.
Our neighborhoods.
Our volunteer organizations.
Our families.
Our willingness to step forward when somebody needs help.
That spirit did not begin on September 12, 2001.
It was simply revealed.
Twenty-five years later, the question isn’t whether that America disappeared.
I don’t believe it did.
You can see it after hurricanes and tornadoes when strangers arrive with chainsaws, trucks and food.
You see it when communities rally around the family of a fallen police officer.
You see it when National Guard members leave their own families to help Americans they have never met.
You see it whenever a neighbor quietly helps another neighbor.
America’s problem isn’t that the September 12 spirit died.
It’s that politics sometimes prevents us from seeing it.
So this September 11, remember the victims.
Remember the firefighters.
Remember the police officers.
Remember the Pentagon.
Remember Flight 93.
Remember the Americans who went to war and those who never came home.
But on September 12, remember something else.
Remember who we became when all the labels suddenly stopped mattering.
For one terrible moment, America remembered that citizenship was bigger than politics.
Twenty-five years later, we shouldn’t need another tragedy to remember it again.