In the 'war on terror', the overwhelming desire to hit back against the perpetrators led to long-held principles of warfare becoming blurred

The audacious attack on the Pentagon and the World Trade Centre in New York is a date etched into history for its infamy. The horrific impact of the two hijacked airliners slamming into the twin towers and the images of smoke pouring from the burning buildings like giant candles across a clear blue autumn sky will forever haunt anyone who knew the city skyline.

The absence of the towers as a backdrop cannot fail to evoke poignant memories. It might explain the compelling desire of New Yorkers to replace the once-familiar landmark with a new, defiant effigy rising from Ground Zero in order to expunge the shock and the helplessness of that day.

The incredulity that such massive structures could actually collapse in an apocalyptic pyre in a matter of seconds pulled the rug from beneath a nation’s pride and confidence just as devastatingly as the horrific loss of those trapped inside or caught below when the towers fell.

In a country where image plays such a vital determiner, the pictures beamed worldwide of the dust clouds turning vibrant lower Manhattan into a grey, tangled wilderness hurt deeply. Even though the target had been a global institution filled with international staff, it was taken as an attack on the ‘homeland’ and American values.

After the stunned paralysis which wrong-footed the nation’s security infrastructure and propelled the country onto a war footing came the reckoning. First, outrage that its security had been so publicly penetrated, along with blind anger that a ‘soft’ civilian target had been indiscriminately razed to the ground in a cloud of asphyxiating dust.

And amid the pain of exposed vulnerability came the calls for retribution. The revelation that the hijackers had been schooled by Al-Qaeda unleashed widespread suspicion within the community of individuals and cultures, particularly Middle Eastern. Institutionally, it spawned paranoia against all things Islamic and a polarisation of international relations. America geared up for a ‘crusade’ against an elusive enemy.

So began the ‘war on terror’ in which the overwhelming desire to hit back against the perpetrators and any who harboured them led to long-held principles of warfare becoming blurred. The West launched into a manipulated Hollywood-style conflict which ultimately tainted its leaders and undermined its security for years to come.

As a direct human consequence of 9/11, almost 3,000 people lost their lives. Up to 60,000 Americans are registered ‘at risk’ from chronic diseases caused by the toxic substances and dust unleashed by the collapse of the buildings and as a result of the heroic attempts to rescue and recover victims. A total of 18,000 patients were still receiving medical treatment last year.

Furthermore, in the overseas theatre, the cost in lives in Iraq and Afghanistan is estimated to be more than 300 times the number who died on 9/11.

Ten years on, America is increasingly keen to market itself as ‘open for business’. The jaunty street life flows freely again through New York, but no one can ignore the underlying tension. The discovery of a potential car bomb in Times Square in 2010 triggered a virtual city lock- down.

So many previously held certainties have been shaken. The world is a more jittery place. There are those who contend that the financial crisis of 2008 which undermined confidence in the banking sector and robbed five million Americans of their homes and security is symptomatic of the loss of what was once comfortable and familiar.

SO much for the direct consequences –the long-term legacy of 9/11 is universal. Along with specific anti-terrorism legislation has come a climate of restriction which has inevitably affected everyday life.

Security, particularly in relation to travel, has brought with it a harshness of application and increased psychological uncertainty. Are we safer or more prepared as a consequence? Clearly, no.

The carnage that exploded on the streets and transport system in London in July 2005, or during the siege of the Taj Mahal Hotel in Mumbai in 2008 shows how a determined aggressor can wreak havoc wherever we endeavour to live our lives as openly and ‘normally’ as it remains possible.

For individuals and nations brought up to respect individual freedom, there is no absolute defence. The nature of the threat has passed from conventional inter-state conflict to the pursuit of causes and methods which, as we saw just recently in Norway, can achieve maximum impact with minimum resources.

Before 9/11, those of my post-war generation would probably identify the shooting of President Kennedy in November 1963 as the most arresting ‘I remember what I was doing when I heard…’ experience. I might have included the death of Princess Diana, but as that occurred overnight, it probably didn’t have that jarring, immediate impact.

Yet the very public outpouring of grief showed how deeply the sudden loss of an icon, as much as the brutal circumstances of the event, struck to the nation’s core.

While the media inevitably focus on numbers of victims in time of atrocity, the communal bonding that occurs is as much a reaction to the unexpected as it is a comprehension of the circumstances. Indeed, it is probably the shock of the unknown which prompts the characteristic public displays of grief, selfless acts of incomparable heroism and desire for solace from whatever can represent confidence and normality.

For those affected, whether individuals or communities, no attempt to explain or intellectualise can ever erase the initial impact.