My brother Abe [Zelmanowitz, 55] worked in the north tower of the World Trade Centre, on the 27th floor. He could have got out, but his colleague, Ed, a quadriplegic, was trapped with him. My other brother and sister-in-law called him, begging him to leave, but he said he would wait for help to get Ed out. But help came too late.
Then Bush made his speech at the National Cathedral [September 14 2001]. He mentioned my brother's heroic act, and it became immediately apparent to me that my country was going to use my brother's death to justify attacks in Afghanistan. That was as horrendous a blow to me as the actual attacks on September 11. I hoped and prayed that this country would not unleash forces in my brother's name. When it [the bombing of Afghanistan] happened, I was horrified and devastated. I felt so impotent.
Then I got a call from Global Exchange [a human rights organisation], asking me if I'd like to go to Afghanistan. What I saw there changed my life for ever. I had been a very privileged, blessed American who had only ever seen war on TV. And then I went to Afghanistan and saw the devastation and horror of what happens to innocent people when bombs fall -- anyone's bombs, anywhere in the world. That my brother's name had been used to justify attacks on the people I met, became family with, cried and grieved with, brought it to a point where it was emotional and real. I found nothing but understanding, warmth, hugs -- they knew all about 9/11 and they grieved for us and apologised to us. Every American should go there -- because, if they did, they would stop the plans for war on Iraq immediately.
I did not pay any attention to who was to blame for 9/11 -- there was no place left in my mind and heart other than the grief about my brother and the people who were going to be killed in his name. I didn't feel anger. I didn't want any other sister or mother to feel this way. It was only later that I began to think about how to bring the perpetrators to justice. I knew that bombing was not the answer. We are no safer now than when we started bombing. We are going to war with a country that had no connection to 9/11, our privacy and our freedom in this country are being slowly whittled away, and Muslims are afraid to go out in the street -- in a city that used to welcome everybody.
Revenge for 9/11 is the excuse they are using to bomb Iraq. There are people in Iraq who are alive today and who will be dead next month if we have a war -- and my country will say that they have done that to avenge my brother's death. I will not let my brother, my dear brother's death, be hypocritically used in this war -- the fact that his death is being used cynically hurts me so much, I can't tell you. Imagine someone who you loved, who died violently, being used insincerely and untruthfully in a political campaign. It is an exploitation.
So I have no intention of touching the subject of revenge. If people ask me why I don't want retribution, I say that it is the natural human reaction to not seek retribution -- or it should be. It cannot accomplish anything. My brother is dead. I privately mourn for him every moment. But I am not looking to atone for his death. I'm looking to prevent the death of others. I don't want to see other people die to amend a ghastly, unbelievable death. The world is larger than just me. Things don't have to be done to make up for things that have happened to me. Things have to be done to make things better in the world. I draw from my love of human beings that everyone is the same as I am. That it is possible -- not in a dream, but someday -- for this to be a peaceful planet. I'll fight to the day I die against this war on terror. I don't want my granddaughter to be sitting here at my age, facing the same world that I'm facing now: a world of starvation, war and inequity. Surely we can do better than this.
http://www.ratical.org/ratville/CAH/beNotTerror.html#RL