I don't think the 9/11 attacks taught us anything we didn't

Hear, O child of the present age, the fierce words of Daniel Dennett: “I don't think the 9/11 attacks taught us anything we didn't already know about religion. It has long been obvious—even to the deeply religious—that religious fanaticism is an extremely dangerous deranger of otherwise sane and goodhearted people.” These words are sharp as a blade, not meant to comfort, but to awaken. For they speak of a truth long seen in the annals of history: when zeal consumes reason, when faith hardens into fanaticism, even gentle souls may become instruments of destruction.

Consider the heart of his warning: religious fanaticism is not the same as faith. Faith may lift the heart toward goodness, compassion, and courage. But fanaticism twists it, turning devotion into a weapon, drowning love beneath fear, pride, or rage. The 9/11 attacks shocked the world with their horror, but as Dennett reminds us, they did not reveal a new truth. Humanity has always known that unbridled zeal, when mixed with power and certainty, can transform good men into tools of terror.

History gives countless witnesses. Recall the Crusades, when armies marched beneath the cross, proclaiming themselves soldiers of Christ, yet laying waste to cities, slaughtering innocents, and sowing hatred that lingers to this day. Many of those men, in their daily lives, might have been tender fathers, dutiful sons, generous neighbors. Yet under the spell of fanaticism, they became as wolves, blinded by the belief that cruelty could serve the divine. Their hearts were not born evil, but twisted by a fire too fierce for reason to contain.

Or think of the Inquisition, when scholars, healers, and mystics were burned at the stake, their cries rising to the heavens, all in the name of protecting orthodoxy. Here again, the lesson is the same: when people believe they hold absolute truth, and when that truth is bound to divine command, compassion is often silenced. The dangerous deranger of which Dennett speaks is not faith itself, but faith untempered by humility, by doubt, by love.

The meaning is clear: the human heart, even when good and well-meaning, is fragile. When it clings too tightly to certainty, when it exalts its own beliefs above the dignity of life, it becomes capable of horrors. The tragedy of 9/11 was not only the loss of life, but also the revelation of how devotion, twisted into fanaticism, can desecrate both faith and humanity. And yet, as Dennett declares, this was no new revelation—it is a lesson written across centuries, often ignored, but always waiting to be seen.

What lesson, then, must we carry? It is this: guard against any faith, any ideology, that demands the sacrifice of compassion. Question leaders who preach hatred in the name of heaven. Do not be deceived by those who clothe violence in sacred words. Instead, seek the true fruits of faith: love of neighbor, care for the weak, humility before the mystery of existence. For any creed that destroys these fruits is no longer faith but fanaticism, and its end is always ruin.

Practical counsel follows. Examine your own convictions with humility. Ask always: does this belief lead me to greater kindness, or does it tempt me toward scorn and violence? Learn the histories of other peoples and other faiths, so that difference becomes not threat but understanding. And when you see fanaticism arise, whether in religion, politics, or ideology, resist it not with hatred, but with firm truth and steadfast love. For only light can scatter the darkness of zealotry.

Therefore, O seeker, remember Daniel Dennett’s warning: religious fanaticism deranges the goodhearted, turning them from neighbors into foes. This truth is not new, but ancient. Do not forget it. Walk humbly with your faith, walk wisely with your convictions, and let no fire of certainty consume the sacred flame of compassion. In this balance lies the safeguard of humanity, and in this safeguard lies hope for the generations yet to come.