As a Generation Z journalist, I’m one of the few in the industry who can’t remember 9/11. Therefore, my perspective on the Afghanistan disaster differs from most voices in the media.
Though I’m too young to recall the attack on the World Trade Center, I have felt its impact. Like any other American, I’ve lived with its legacies, from airport security to suspicion and division. Perhaps most profound of all: the sense that the security of America—and our cushy lives here—are not, in fact, guaranteed.
I grew up in the tristate area, so 9/11 hit close to home, both literally and figuratively. I know families who lost their loved ones. My own mother, even, worked in the World Trade Center a few years before the attack. And, living in New York today, the tower’s glaring absence is there whenever I look southward. Certainly, then, the justification for war in Afghanistan is more than understandable.
Over the course of my life, the goalposts of the war on terror shifted so dramatically that our purpose for remaining there indefinitely felt unclear, as did our justification for risking the lives of our sons and daughters deployed there. Above all, I had faith in my nation’s ability to execute this withdrawal properly.
But what transpired in carrying out the common will of the American people horrified me. From planning to execution to the fallout now, the withdrawal of our troops has been grotesquely mismanaged in virtually every conceivable way.
The speed of Afghanistan’s collapse at the feet of the Taliban revealed just how delicate the veneer of peace really was. It also demonstrated that the fight for freedom can only be waged by the will of the people, not by interventionist weapons and force. A general failure to fortify our allies in Afghanistan with the strength and strategy to exist independently was staggering.
But even more obvious is the utter lack of basic planning. With no good reason, we have left behind not only our equipment but also our allies and our citizens to the Taliban. Whether a result of gross negligence or an overeagerness for good optics on the 20th anniversary of 9/11, watching our botched withdrawal has been nothing short of horrifying to me as a young American.
My heart aches for those in Afghanistan, suffering on account of my nation’s mistakes. I worry for the Americans still stranded, who have been totally abandoned. Their mistreatment denigrates the very sanctity of American citizenship. I, too, worry for the women of Afghanistan who are totally helpless, their liberties stripped and their schools shut down. They have been left at the mercy of extremists and ideologues intent on repressing them.
I also think of the Afghans who believe in liberty, some of the bravest of whom no doubt are the translators who helped American forces. They knew the risk of doing so but chose to trust the Americans, aligning themselves with our mission of freedom and holding onto the faith that it will come for them. Now, they’ve been left to their own devices, relabeled as traitors in their own homes, and abandoned by their supposed saviors.
My worries are domestic, too. Perhaps the most obvious concern is security, particularly as a resident of New York City. Despite 20 years of investment, I can’t help but wonder if we even slightly mitigated the threat we set out to quash in Afghanistan. The same forces who terrorized us before have risen back to power. Are we not now just as much of a target? Are we not projecting our weakness?
And what of our allies? In Afghanistan we left them defenseless, with none of our promises kept. Why would they trust us again? And why would other foreign allies take our word? Will they be at our side in our times of need? As a member of Generation Z, these concerns are heightened. I hope I have a long life ahead of me, but what will the legacy of this disaster be? How will it impact my nation’s prestige? My nation’s security? Its longevity?
We need accountability. We need answers. These are questions I hope all my peers—my fellow inheritors of this nation—are asking, too. They are questions I hope every parent and grandparent is asking for the sake of their progeny. And, most importantly of all, these are questions that I hope are keeping our leaders up at night.
