Letters to the Editor | Sept. 11, 2026

As we remember the tragedy of the 9/11 attacks 25 years ago, standing united on the principles of justice remains as vital today as it has been for the past 25 years. With the spread of misinformation, fearmongering, and political polarization, it has unfortunately become far too easy to focus on our differences and forget the struggles shared by all our fellow Americans. We are witnessing countless innocent lives lost around the world — each one reminding us of the devastating consequences of war.

As an Ahmadi Muslim American, it is my duty not only to condemn those who twist religion for their own political gain, but to stand up for all those whose rights are being usurped and attacked, be it a Muslim or non-Muslim alike. In his Farewell Sermon, the Holy Prophet Muhammad (may the peace and blessings of God be upon him) said, “Hurt no one so that no one may hurt you,” reaffirming the importance of all human life. In this crucial time when the most vulnerable among us are under attack, let us reaffirm our nation’s commitment to justice for all.

Ataul Wadood Bhatti, Philadelphia

I was getting ready to head to Northeast Philadelphia to photograph a story for The Inquirer, where I had been a staff photojournalist since 1993. With a cup of coffee in hand, I remember being somewhere between the kitchen and the living room when the phone rang.

The calm, distinct voice of Berford Gammon, assignment editor at the newspaper, came through at 8:55 that morning.

“I want you to head to New York,” he said.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Turn on your TV.”

I clicked on the remote, and a picture of smoke billowing from a tower of the World Trade Center framed against the background of a deep blue, cloudless New York skyline filled the screen. My eyes locked onto the grainy image as my wife stood close.

I remember saying, “What a tragic accident,” thinking a small plane probably had navigated off course. That thought vanished as quickly as it arrived at 9:03 a.m., when United Airlines Flight 175 slammed into the World Trade Center’s south tower. The morning talk shows quickly abandoned their banter as the unsettling words of terrorism, attacks, and deliberate filled the airwaves.

I grabbed my cameras and stepped out into the cool 60-degree morning.

I stopped briefly in the newsroom to pick up extra equipment. Small groups of people were gathered around television sets as American Airlines Flight 11 was identified as the first plane to hit the north tower.

I heard reports that hijackers had crashed American Airlines Flight 77 into the western facade of the Pentagon in Washington, D.C., at 9:37 a.m. Stunned, I instantly thought of Pearl Harbor and my father, who had told me what it was like on the morning of Dec. 7, 1941.

As I headed to New York, a report of a fourth plane, United Airlines Flight 93, had crashed at 10:07 a.m. into a field in Shanksville, Pa., with 40 passengers and crew on board.

As I pulled off the New Jersey Turnpike to take photographs, a changed New York skyline missing its twin vertical icons filled the viewfinder. It was hard to imagine the lives lost and the damage done.

The north tower burned for about 102 minutes and then collapsed. The south tower burned for almost an hour and then imploded. In the attacks on Sept. 11, nearly 3,000 lives were lost, and 10,000 people were treated for injuries.

I stayed in New York for the next seven days working with reporters from the paper and photographing what followed an unthinkable event.

On Sept. 17, I caught a ferry from Staten Island with people heading back to the southern tip of Manhattan for the first time since the attacks. The mood was somber. Two men spoke a couple of sentences. Most passengers were silent for the 25-minute ride.

The world was a different place.

Peter Tobia, Philadelphia

The writer is a former visual journalist at The Inquirer.

Twenty-five years after 9/11, America needs to remember what once held us together.

For two weeks after the attacks, we opened the doors of our church in New York City every night. People came to pray, share their stories, search for information about friends and family members, and grieve. Some simply needed somewhere to sit with other people who understood what they were experiencing. The church was packed.

Those who did not live through those days in New York may not fully understand how quiet the city became. Manhattan was virtually cut off. Cell service was extremely limited. The normal machinery of everyday life simply stopped; fighter jets flew overhead. Smoke continued to rise from Lower Manhattan, and everywhere there were reminders that our city and our nation had been attacked.

Yet, amid the fear and devastation, something remarkable happened. We came together.

New Yorkers, famous for their impatience, became more patient. Strangers talked, and people helped each other. Churches filled. First responders ran toward danger while thousands of ordinary citizens searched for ways to serve. Political labels suddenly seemed less important. Race, class, neighborhood, and status became secondary to something larger. We knew we were together. We were New Yorkers, but more importantly, we were Americans.

As we mark the 25th anniversary of Sept. 11, I find myself wondering what happened to that spirit, not the fear or grief of that terrible day, but the unity that followed it. We don’t need another attack to remind us that there are things more important than our political parties, ideological tribes, and personal ambitions. But somehow that spirit must be recovered. America needs a new breed of patriotism — a mature patriotism that rises above personalities and political parties, allows honest disagreement, and acknowledges America’s failures while remaining committed to its promise and founding ideals.

Differences and debate are not the problem; they are essential to a free society. Americans will disagree about taxes and spending, immigration, education, the size and role of government, and a host of other issues. What concerns me is that disagreement has increasingly been replaced by distrust, contempt, and even hatred.

We no longer simply believe the other side is wrong. Too often we assume they are evil, stupid, un-American, or determined to destroy the country. Once we reach that point, compromise becomes impossible, friendships across political lines become suspect, and winning becomes more important than the principles we supposedly want our politicians to defend.

Michel J. Faulkner, Philadelphia

In the autumn of my mother’s sixth grade school year, an enemy of this country attacked Pearl Harbor and sent the world she knew into a spiral.

In the autumn of my sixth grade year, an enemy of democracy assassinated President John F. Kennedy and filled the world of my generation with sadness, anger, anxiety, and apprehension.

In the autumn of my daughter’s sixth grade year, an enemy of freedom used planes as missiles on Sept. 11, and the shockwaves from their attacks rippled across her small world — spilling into Girl Scout meetings and coursing over sidewalk playdates.

In each of those instances, the message being sent to each child was that the normal, the dependable, and the safe could be shaken — because there “were no innocent people.”

My mother got through it, I got through it, and my children have, too — with each of us carrying our own “I remember what it felt like when it happened” moment.

I have a 5-year-old grandson. Can’t help but wonder what will happen when he hits sixth grade. Or, in this accelerated world, sooner.

Keith Mason, Cinnaminson

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