Twenty-four years ago, on 9/11, the world changed forever. In some ways, it feels like it was a simpler world then.

But back then on September 12, something remarkable happened: We were united. Flags hung from porches, firehouses and overpasses. Democrats and Republicans stood intertwined together on the Capitol steps and sang God Bless America. Lee Greenwood’s God Bless the USA shot back up the charts and became an anthem of patriotism. For a brief moment, it felt like America knew itself and had never been prouder.

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Fast forward almost two and a half decades, and the American flag doesn’t mean the same thing it once did. For me (and a shrinking majority), it still symbolizes freedom, pride and sacrifice. For others, especially younger generations, it feels like a symbol of whoever’s political party happens to be in power. A Gallup Poll shows that American pride has reached record lows.

It shouldn’t take a national tragedy 24 years ago today, or another case of political violence a day ago, to remind us that we belong to one another.

I’ve spent much of my adult life in some type of public service, and I can say with some authority: The unity we saw after 9/11 is rare. But I can also say it shouldn’t take a national tragedy 24 years ago today, or another case of political violence a day ago, to remind us that we belong to one another.

Another political assassination

Yesterday, Charlie Kirk — a 31-year-old father, husband and prominent conservative leader — was assassinated in cold blood before 3,000 people at Utah Valley University. He was one of Donald Trump’s earliest and most vocal supporters, amassing millions of followers online and becoming a face of the young conservative movement. Many of his views were objectionable to liberals. But he didn’t deserve to lose his life for holding them.

I didn’t agree with Kirk’s politics, but I loved that he had the moral courage to stand on his own two feet and make an argument and debate eloquently on the principles he believed in. On the day of his assassination, Kirk was doing what he loved and did best, going into a college town and asking folks to debate, to prove him wrong. Until a gunman violently took him out.

Already, some of my conservative friends are calling for retribution after Kirk’s murder. They’re blaming “the liberal left,” pointing to the two assassination attempts on President Trump and the shooting of Majority Whip Steve Scalise in 2017.

But political violence is not a partisan issue.

Those same voices were silent when Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s husband was bludgeoned in his own home with a hammer. They said little after the arson attack on Governor Josh Shapiro’s home on the first night of Passover, or the killing of Minnesota House Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband.

It’s become a knee-jerk reaction to immediately blame the other side. To falsely proclaim there are millions celebrating this political violence.

Yesterday, every major Democrat mourned the shooting (and eventual death) of Kirk.

In the past year alone, we’ve seen a frightening escalation in political violence.

Things were different after 9/11

That’s what scares me. Twenty-four years ago, when tragedy struck, Americans could still come together and agree that violence was wrong. We united to bring Al-Qaeda terrorists to justice. As President George W. Bush declared while standing on the smoldering rubble at Ground Zero, “I can hear you. The rest of the world hears you. And the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon.”

Today, though, every tragic event is filtered through a partisan lens. Tragedies are dissected into talking points. And in rare corners of the internet, Kirk’s death has even been celebrated with mocking derision. The man was a staunch gun advocate, but that does not mean he deserved to die by one.

We don’t have to agree with one another to recognize each other’s humanity. In fact, our democracy depends on it.

I’ll admit something here that most of you probably don’t know: I voted for George W. Bush in 2000. I was a young Army Captain at West Point on active duty, and he was a former military man who promised to be a “compassionate Conservative.” Within months after 9/11, I was sent overseas, deployed home, and then became part of the invasion force in Baghdad, Iraq in 2003. I was wearing the uniform of an Army officer, serving in a second front of a war President Bush launched after we were attacked.

We don’t have to agree with one another to recognize each other’s humanity. In fact, our democracy depends on it.

My views shifted from serving overseas, and I later worked on John Kerry’s campaign in 2004 after leaving active duty. When I was elected to Congress in 2006, I later helped write the Iraq De-Escalation Act with then-Senator Barack Obama, that called for a phased redeployment of our troops from Iraq. It was somewhat controversial because it called for a timeline, but Obama worked the Senate while I worked votes in the House. It passed. And then President Bush then vetoed my first piece of legislation. I went from being an early supporter to a vocal opponent.

But no matter what, I’ve always been firm that it’s possible to disagree fiercely with a leader and still acknowledge the good they’ve done.

Humble empathy and intellectual humility

Can you do the same? If you’re a Democrat, can you name three good things President Trump has done in either term? If Republican, can you name three things that President Biden or Obama have done? If you can’t, maybe it’s time for you to break your partisan fever. Humble empathy or intellectual humility shows true power and wisdom.

It is easy for me to point to the good Bush did as our President (even though I actively campaigned against him the second time). He proudly signed the largest expansion of the GI Bill since World War II after we passed it in Congress. He later extended unemployment insurance during the Great Recession. Bush created a public-private partnership to combat HIV/AIDS in Africa that has saved over 25 million lives. Two years later he launched an anti-malaria initiative that saved another 7.6 million.

President Bush showed the world through action how substantial American leadership is when it comes to global public health. He never won a Nobel Peace Prize, but maybe he should have. It’s widely considered one of the most successful humanitarian initiatives in U.S. history. Frankly, maybe President Trump was also snubbed a Nobel Prize too for Operation Warp Speed that expedited the mRNA vaccine, saving tens of millions of lives across the globe during the Covid pandemic.

I’ve never called for either of them to receive the world’s most prestigious award, but maybe I can learn to be more gracious and have more intellectual humility as well.

Today, if you want to do something meaningful, try this: Name one good thing about a leader you usually oppose

President Bush also had the most diverse Cabinet in history at the time. He appointed the first Black Secretary of State (Colin Powell), followed by the first Black woman Secretary of State (Condoleezza Rice), and the first Latino Attorney General (Alberto Gonzales). It wasn’t diversity for diversity’s sake, it was an all-star cast of statesmen and women.

A week after 9/11, Bush attended the Islamic Center of Washington, D.C. and declared “Islam is peace,” urging Americans not to scapegoat Muslims. That moment often gets overlooked. That took political courage.

Bush had his flaws, but one thing you can’t say is that he wasn’t a class act.

If you can’t name a single positive quality in a leader of the opposing party, you’re not just wrong, you’re part of the problem. Do better.

You too can cross party lines

The truth is, our nation was built by leaders who crossed party lines. John F. Kennedy, a Democrat, was a Navy Lieutenant in World War II and lowered taxes. President Dwight Eisenhower, a Republican, was a five-star General who helped defeat fascism and then invested in our transportation infrastructure at home. George H. W. Bush, a Republican, flew combat missions in the Pacific before serving as CIA Director, Vice President, and eventually President, and signed the Americans with Disabilities Act, which protected those with physical and mental disabilities while guaranteeing them access. These veterans showed that political public service wasn’t partisan. It was simply patriotic.

I think about that a lot today. Because while we can’t bring back the America of 9/12, and we genuinely mourn the loss of Charlie Kirk, we can decide that our political opponents aren’t our enemies. That they may hold values we disagree with, but they are still Americans with redeeming qualities, worthy of our respect and dignity as fellow humans.

Twenty-four years after 9/11, I still remember the shock and grief. But I also remember the unity. And if we could summon that again, it might be the best way to honor those we lost.

So today, if you want to do something meaningful, try this: Name one good thing about a leader you usually oppose. Do it out loud. Write it down. Have the moral courage to put it in the comments here or on your own social media. Remind yourself that democracy isn’t about destroying the other side. It’s about recognizing their humanity, even when you disagree.

It’s poetic that this year, President Bush and his team asked me to attend his presidential library in Dallas on 9/11. It is an incredible honor to be here on this solemn day. After moments of silence, I’m addressing veteran leaders from across the country who are gathering together in the same room — no doubt with different views and political beliefs — but one shared love of country and a commitment to serve others.

That is how we honor the memory of those lost 24 years ago. That’s how we should mourn the tragic loss of Charlie Kirk. And that is how we keep this fragile experiment in self-government alive. United we stand, divided we’ll fall.

The Honorable Patrick J. Murphy is a Wharton lecturer, vetrepreneur, and the 32nd Army Under Secretary after earning the Bronze Star for service in Baghdad, Iraq as an All-American with the 82nd Airborne Division —@PatrickMurphyPA on Instagram and Twitter.

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