Yearning for a time before all this

Imiss the 20th century. Strange thing to miss history’s most murderous century: Two world wars, nuclear weapons, the fear of mutually assured destruction throughout the Cold War. Yet I do miss it. I miss the freedoms and innovations that existed within the 20th century, and the limitless possibilities there at its end. After all, we had witnessed a genuine miracle: the collapse of the Soviet Union and the rise of democracies throughout the world. Peace had to be at hand.

Then came 9/11, an awful day we are right to try to prevent repeating.

But on another 9/11 anniversary, I find myself reflecting on what our fears of terrorism have cost us. I’m also thinking about those who’ve never known American society any other way — say, average college freshmen. I’m wondering if they understand what we’ve lost.

For example: you could hop a ferry to the Statue of Liberty without having your baby’s diaper bag searched. Buildings weren’t festooned with security cameras. Metal detectors were rare. Personal data weren’t analyzed by corporations that might share that information with the government. Immigrants — and in particular refugees — weren’t seen as an existential threat. And fear of unexpected violent death didn’t require us to hand over so much in the name of security.

Remember now, we do this to secure our freedom. We’re monitored constantly to secure our freedom, in every public building and in growing numbers of private ones. Not just the bad guys — all of us. And this keeps us free. Really? Don’t get me wrong. We need some security. My argument is whether this is the right kind. Once in a while, we should look up from our smartphones — which incidentally, track us everywhere — and ask if the security state being assembled byte by byte, camera by camera, is really what we need.

The monitoring technology seems comforting. But it also enables an Orwellian state that’s grown unchecked in both the public and private sectors since 9/11. Overall, the cameras and data collection are the security equivalent of junk food. They make us feel good, but do little to prevent death or promote hope.

I mentioned college freshmen. But really I’m thinking of my young children. They ask pretty pointed questions about cameras and guards. In those moments, I think: I don’t want this world for them. I don’t want them thinking it’s OK to be watched always and yet to still be afraid all the time; with searches so frequent; with a border wall; with intrusive monitoring; with every difference being highlighted over our common humanity.

The Soviet Union did all these things. Now we’re accepting them as a normal part of a functioning free society.

What is it about terrorism that makes us give up so much? We face death in every moment, in everything we do. No amount of security or technology can prevent it. Yet we’re willing to change much of how we live — even how we treat one another — to prevent just one kind of death. If our fear of death from other things was equal to our fear of terrorism, we wouldn’t own guns or drive ourselves anywhere; nuclear weapons would be dismantled; human beings wouldn’t get launched into space; and fossil fuels would be outlawed.

I wonder if we’ve become a bubblewrapped society, afraid of any risk in the name of security. Yet when I compare these modern fears to my childhood fears of nuclear holocaust, I realize I felt far freer, far more American, back then. For all its faults, the 20th century didn’t accept low-grade daily paranoia as the price of freedom.

All those 20th century fears didn’t cower us. We still dared. We still went from a rickety flight at Kitty Hawk in 1903 to the lunar surface in 1969. We still founded the United Nations. We still fought for human rights. We still faced down the Soviet Union.

We did these things, to paraphrase John F. Kennedy, not because they were easy but because they were hard. And we did them not because we lived in fear of tomorrow but in the hope of a better one.

So, yes, I want the 20th century back, to show people younger than me that there is absolutely another way to live. Let’s not forget the shining moment we had between 1991 and 9/11. Our world was growing more interconnected, and it seemed more likely that people could look at one another, regardless of background, and see a brother or a sister. Now too often we just see the other — and we’re the worse for it. Yet the beauty of our Republic, for all its faults, is that we still have the ability to choose. We can still choose to face our problems without fear. Help those in need. Question authority. Discard invasive security measures in favor of targeted ones. Use the ballot box.

And we can still watch the watchmen.