The American way of life is worth preserving, even in the face of death. In mid-August, the 9/11 Memorial and Museum canceled this year’s Tribute in Light display commemorating those lost in the terror attacks nearly two decades ago.
The tribute is a moving display of memory and hope. Spotlights arranged in the footprint of the Twin Towers shoot beams of ethereal light up to 4 miles into the sky. The beams connote the ghosts of the dead and of the skyline that once marked the canyons of downtown Manhattan, but that light ascends upward, drawing our own gaze to the heavens.
One may contrast this memorial favorably with the permanent display at the 9/11 Museum now — two jet black pits extending deep into the earth, a literal vision of the abyss.
This year, however, the Tribute in Light was canceled by the museum over concerns regarding the coronavirus. On Aug. 15, however, the state and city stepped in, promising to provide aid to ensure the tribute was carried out “safely.”
The episode is revealing nonetheless. It symbolizes the depth of the spiritual crisis brought about by the coronavirus. Remembering the dead is a fundamental attribute of human society. By abandoning such rites, or even considering as much, we reveal our lack of faith in our own civilization.
During the height of the pandemic in March and April, restrictions on funerals were so severe that families could not attend the final laying to rest of their own flesh and blood. Social distancing regulations ensured that many of the elderly died alone, with no one present to comfort them or offer last rites in their final moments.
All this over a virus that exists, for most people, as numbers on a spreadsheet and lines on a graph. This pandemic is not the apocalypse that was projected in March, when the Imperial College in London predicted that 2.2 million people in the United States would die from the coronavirus. Sweden never locked down, closed schools, or implemented a widespread mask mandate because of a virus that has caused 0.057% of its population die. America implemented most of those and has seen 0.058% of its population die.
The fear driving the response to the virus reveals something perverse in the heart of our society. It shows our lack of faith in the tenets of civilization. This year’s memorial to the victims of Sept. 11 is so fearful of the virus that family members will not be allowed to read out the names of their loved ones. How can we celebrate the courage of the heroes that responded on that day, when we cannot even bring ourselves to say their names out of fear?
This is a sign of a civilization in spiritual decline. Our political leaders had no problem sending thousands of young men to their deaths to fight for “freedom,” “democracy,” and “our way of life” in Iraq and Afghanistan. But then, when confronted with a virus that kills a minuscule portion of those it infects, those same leaders sacrificed those very bedrock principles.
As a child, Sept. 11 changed my whole world. It inspired patriotism in me and a longing for justice. As a young man, I joined the Marines in hopes of helping to preserve the country I loved. I believed the American way of life was worth preserving, that it was worth risking one’s own life for. I still believe that.
But what of our ruling class? A governing elite that uses an illness of this nature to impose draconian surveillance measures on college students and lock away the elderly is not one that believes in liberty or preserving the basics of political health. Social distancing is diametrically opposed to social cohesion.
This Sept. 11, I find myself disillusioned and angry. What were the last 19 years of war and suffering for? Does anyone in power even pretend that the sacrifices made by my brothers in arms mattered, that the principles they allegedly fought for were anything more than talking points?
The longing for safety is ultimately an exercise in futility. Each of us will die one day, but more important than how we die is how we live. I believe, following Aristotle, that life is activity. This Sept. 11, I choose life and friendship over fear.
Our way of life is worth preserving, even if it means sacrifice or death.
Josiah Lippincott is a former Marine and a graduate of Hillsdale College.
