A quarter of a century after the catastrophic terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, the memory of that morning remains etched into the collective consciousness of the United States. For millions of citizens, the day fundamentally reshaped national security, culture, and identity. Within Indian Country, the 25th anniversary offers an enduring moment of reflection on dual citizenship, ancestral traditions of community protection, and the deep, tangible links connecting Native nations to the World Trade Center.
The tragedy began unfolding at 8:46 a.m. when a hijacked commercial jetliner collided with the north tower of the World Trade Center in New York City. Initial reports and media commentators originally speculated that the collision might have been a catastrophic aeronautical accident. That perception shattered merely 18 minutes later, when a second passenger airliner struck the south tower on live television, removing any doubt that the country was facing an organized, hostile attack.
The scope of the operation widened rapidly as news broke that a third hijacked airliner had crashed into the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia. Meanwhile, a fourth aircraft, United Airlines Flight 93, went down in a rural Pennsylvania field after crew members and passengers mounted a courageous effort to overpower hijackers who were steering the aircraft toward government targets in Washington, D.C., with the U.S. Capitol believed to be the primary objective. Nearly 3,000 people lost their lives in the day's immediate devastation.
For Native Americans across the country, the assault on the homeland brought into sharp focus their status as dual citizens holding allegiances both to their respective sovereign tribal nations and to the United States. The shared trauma resonated through reservation communities and urban centers alike, emphasizing a shared stake in the country's security and preservation.
The attacks also directly affected tribal governance in real time, as various American Indian leaders were present in the nation's capital on official business when the strikes occurred. Among those in Washington was a high-level delegation from the Navajo Nation, which included Navajo Nation President Kelsey A. Begaye, several tribal council delegates, and administrative staff who had traveled east for critical policy discussions.
In the wake of the airspace shutdown and ensuing turmoil, Speaker of the Navajo Nation Council Edward T. Begay issued a statement carried by the Navajo-Hopi Observer to reassure tribal citizens back home. The leadership confirmed that all members of the Navajo delegation were safe and that officials in Window Rock, Arizona, were maintaining communication while coordinating transportation to bring the tribal leaders home once national flight restrictions were lifted.
Indian Country's relationship with the World Trade Center site, however, predated the 2001 disaster by decades. During the late 1960s and 1970s, hundreds of legendary Mohawk ironworkers traveled to Lower Manhattan to assist in the dangerous structural construction of the Twin Towers, earning widespread recognition for their high-altitude skill.
Following the collapse of the complex, the legacy of those original builders was carried on by their descendants. Numerous Mohawk ironworkers arrived at Ground Zero to assist with the hazardous recovery and cleanup operations, helping dismantle the twisted wreckage. Their foundational contributions and recovery efforts were later commemorated in an exhibition at the National September 11 Memorial & Museum in New York City.
In the aftermath of 9/11, Native Americans responded to the call of military service in remarkable numbers, enlisting in the U.S. Armed Forces at a higher percentage than any other demographic group. This pronounced commitment to defense highlighted the enduring nature of Indigenous warrior societies adapted to contemporary global warfare.
The experiences of Indigenous service members were captured by Osage photojournalist Steven Clevenger, who spent three years chronicling Native service in the Middle East for his book, "America's First Warriors: Native Americans and Iraq." Clevenger documented how traditional values remained central to modern soldiers, observing that the fundamental definition of a warrior—as a selfless protector of one's people—has remained consistent since pre-Columbian times.
While the attacks resulted in the tragic loss of nearly 3,000 lives on American soil, the fallout initiated decades of prolonged international conflict. Research by the Costs of War Project at Brown University's Watson Institute for International and Public Affairs revealed the sweeping global scale of the post-9/11 wars across theaters such as Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Syria, and Yemen.
According to the Watson Institute's findings, direct war-related violence caused an estimated 940,000 deaths between 2001 and 2023. The broader consequences of these conflicts—including displacement, damaged infrastructure, disease, and economic collapse—led to an additional 3.6 million to 3.8 million indirect deaths, bringing the total estimated human toll to between 4.5 million and 4.7 million lives.
The financial cost of these ongoing military engagements has been equally staggering. The Costs of War Project calculated that the U.S. government spent or became obligated to spend more than $8 trillion on post-9/11 military campaigns, diverting massive financial resources that might otherwise have supported global societal development and humanitarian needs.
For Indigenous people, awareness of domestic conflict is deeply rooted in history, recalling how ancestors fought vigorously against historical violence in defense of their ancestral lands. In recent years, internal threats have also resurfaced, underscored by events such as the January 6, 2021 insurrection at the U.S. Capitol, which demonstrated the ongoing dangers of political violence within the nation.
Twenty-five years after the planes struck the towers, the Pentagon, and the field in Shanksville, the commemoration of September 11 serves as a call for sustained unity against threats both foreign and domestic. The enduring Native teaching, "Thayék gde nwéndëmen"—meaning "We are all related"—stands as a guiding principle for national resilience and shared purpose.
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