Sept. 11 remains an open wound for America. There has been no triumph, no victory over the darkness that we have continued to generate both at home and abroad.

We will never forget the piercing blue sky and the confusion as the World Trade Center’s north tower billowed black smoke. Then came the fireball as the second plane blasted through the south tower. We will never forget the gasp from knowing it was no accident. We watched the tragedy that unfolded over 102 minutes, the time between the first plane hitting and the collapse of the World Trade Center. We knew nothing would be the same.

For a time, we saw amazing acts of humanity and the unity of the American people. We maintained that unity through the movement in Afghanistan, but not Iraq. Like the towers, unity collapsed amid President George W. Bush’s 2003 call for war in Iraq, a rogue nation, but one that had nothing to do with 9/11. Over the next many months, we watched some of the largest anti-war protests in human history.

We went to war anyway, and the world we live in is a direct reflection of that fateful decision. We are now witnesses to the 25 years that 9/11 has wrought. Yet most Americans can’t see a simple truth — the twin towers fell across the road to the 21st century.

That reality presented America with a choice. Embrace the outpouring of support and grief from around the world and pursue a global movement to address terrorism, one that would evaluate our often-egregious foreign policy. Or embrace never-ending war. That decision has generated the fractious conditions that have made the first quarter of this century untenable for democracy, the rule of law and the idea of justice.

As a professor of history, I have explored these ideas for over a decade with a generation that has grown up in the shadow of towers that no longer exist. Some refer to them as Gen Z, for “zoom,” because of the fast-paced nature of their lives. But it’s the wrong name. They’re the 9/11 Generation, born and raised amid the chaos of post-9/11 America.

It doesn’t ultimately matter if they don’t remember the attacks because they were too young at the time or were born after. Sure, the kids who watched on television the never-ending loop of the second plane hitting the tower and witnessed their parents and teachers weep openly have a visceral memory of that day, but those who didn’t experience those moments have grown up with a similar trauma, one they can’t fully explain, in a country they know is broken no matter how many times or how loudly we chant, “USA.”

In the waning hours of that horrible Tuesday, the president unintentionally recognized the birth of this new generation, asking Americans to pray “for all those who grieve, for the children whose worlds have been shattered, for all whose sense of safety and security has been threatened.” He defined the 9/11 Generation. Bush told America that “Our way of life, our very freedom came under attack,” insisting that “America was targeted for attack because we’re the brightest beacon for freedom and opportunity in the world.”

America went to war for 20 years. Iraq suffered mightily for an act it didn’t commit, with some arguing that “Iraqis have faced nothing short of a lost generation.” The U.S. withdrew from Afghanistan in a disastrous rerun of troops fleeing Saigon.

As we now reflect on 25 years since the towers fell, have we learned anything? “We will never forget.” OK, but what are we remembering? The answer for most is what I refer to as the “tragedy and triumph” narrative of the 102 minutes. The belief that tragedy befell America but that, in her righteous might, she rose up and triumphed. That’s a myth. There has been no triumph. We are still shadowed by loss at home and a tarnished reputation globally.

And we do not remember, not all of us. There’s an entire generation that knows little about Sept. 11. Roughly 37% of Americans today were either too young then to understand or were born after the attacks. They were raised in the wake of governmental chaos and war that has numbed them to faith in their own government and the salience of democracy as a workable system. They are the only generation in American history that has never experienced functional government.

Our egregious partisanship is both a cause and a byproduct of post-9/11 America. Patriotism has been torn between those who embrace authoritarianism as a solution to make America great again, and those who hunger for a more hopeful nation, especially as we commemorate the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence and our nation’s birth.

Perhaps it’s ironic that these two anniversaries have arrived in the same year. Perhaps it’s symmetry. If by “commemorate,” we mean a thoughtful consideration of our past and present, what do America’s birth and Sept. 11 have in common?

Any meaningful answer must reflect on America’s role in the world. Lexington was the shot heard round the world, a ripple of burgeoning democracy that washed over distant shores and remade the world. America became a beacon of possibility and inalienable rights.

Our response to 9/11 was anything but a beacon. It made the world more dangerous. It endangered democracy and the rule of law.

In this important year of our nation’s 250th anniversary and of 25 years since 9/11, will we, as Abraham Lincoln offered in the midst of the Civil War, embrace a new birth of freedom? Or will we remain mired in the darkness that has clouded our sight since the billowing smoke of 9/11 obscured our piercing blue sky?

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Matthew Warshauer is a distinguished professor of history at Central Connecticut State University and the author of “Creating and Failing the 9/11 Generation.”

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