Fear and Fellowship: Cambridge’s Response to September 11

By Beth Folsom, 2026

On the morning of September 12, 2001, Cantabrigians from all walks of life were struggling to come to terms with what had happened less than 24 hours earlier, when hijacked planes crashed into the World Trade Center towers in New York, the Pentagon just outside of Washington, DC, and a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, killing nearly 3,000 people. Confusion and fear dominated the city’s immediate reactions, as was the case for many places across the country and around the world. But Cambridge soon began to seek ways of quelling those fears and uniting in solidarity with all those affected by the attacks, refusing to let uncertainty and prejudice divide their diverse, multicultural city. In the weeks following September 11, the Cambridge community’s efforts to understand and come to terms with the attacks reflected their desire to come together and to allow compassion, public service, and an inclusive, patriotic spirit to dominate their response to tragedy.

The nation as a whole was rocked by the terrorist attack, but Cambridge’s proximity to Boston’s Logan Airport, where two of the hijacked flights originated, added a layer of meaning to the events of the day and their aftermath. In its September 12 issue, the Cambridge Chronicle reported that the city had been placed on a “heightened state of awareness,” including public areas, transportation, and schools, but Mayor Anthony Galluccio stressed that “we can’t allow this to stop the daily work that goes on in our community and that makes our nation great.” Increased caution was necessary, but to allow fear to paralyze Cambridge would be to betray both the city’s and the nation’s ideals of community cohesion and a belief in the inherent goodness and resilience of the American spirit.

Public officials in Cambridge, as in so many places, worked hard in the aftermath of the attacks to balance concern for safety with resources and support for those affected by the tragedy. The first task was gaining a fuller understanding of exactly what had happened and why, as well as whether Cambridge itself was in any particular danger or a target of potential follow-up attacks. Once the city and its residents were determined to be out of harm’s way, at least as far as officials could determine, the public conversation turned to caring for those who were personally touched by the events of September 11, especially the friends and families of those killed. The Boston Globe ran a series of profiles of individuals with local connections who had perished in the attacks, and the Chronicle did the same with those who had direct ties to Cambridge. A number of city agencies and affiliated nonprofits, including the Cambridge Health Alliance, the Cambridge Peace Commission, and the Red Cross, opened their doors to those needing support, whether because they had suffered a personal loss or because they were experiencing grief and fear over the larger situation.

Many Cantabrigians found comfort in numbers, and colleges, community groups, and houses of worship organized vigils where residents could come together for solace and solidarity. On September 14, according to the Chronicle, “a crowd swelled to more than 500 people as Muslims, Jews and Christians walked together to City Hall from the Islamic Center of Boston on Prospect Street.” Mayor Galluccio spoke to the assembled crowd, asserting that “[t]oday we say, you might be able to hurt us, you might be able to slow us down. But you will never stop a united people.” Leaders from the various faith traditions took the opportunity of this other interfaith rallies to condemn violence in any form – especially in the name of religion – and to publicly affirm their commitment to unity in the face of adversity.

Cambridge’s response to the attacks was not without some significant challenges, however; in the weeks following September 11, as information (true as well as unverified) swirled as to who was responsible for the bombings and their motivation, the city’s Muslim community was singled out for derision and threats. In a September 19 article, the Chronicle reported that “[d]erogatory, threatening email messages and phone calls started coming into the mosque [at the Islamic Society of Boston] on Prospect Street. ‘They said to kill or expel all Arabs,’ said [ISB spokesman Hossam] Jabri.” In the aftermath of the attacks, members of Cambridge’s Muslim and Arab populations experienced verbal attacks, threats, and even several instances of intimidation and physical violence, but in spite of these prejudices – or, perhaps, because of them – the ISB and other representative groups were among the loudest voices condemning violence and asserting that the local Muslim community “have chosen to make America our home. As a minority group we have contributed as doctors, lawyers and parents, raising our children here.”

Despite these incidents, the Cambridge community was overwhelmingly resistant to the ethnic and religious profiling taking place across the nation, and instead sought to deepen understanding of and ties among its diverse population. Lectures, discussions, service projects, and other opportunities for collaboration emphasized the common goals of Cantabrigians of all stripes, and calls came from all sectors for unity in the face of fear and anger. To turn against one’s neighbors in this time would be to reward and embolden terrorism; only by rising above these divisions could Cambridge and the nation rebuke the goals of those who wished to weaken it. In a letter to the Chronicle on September 19, the entire Cambridge City Council stated clearly their hopes for the city: “As your City Council members, we encourage all Cantabrigians to reach out to their neighbors and co-workers and offer a hand in peace and healing. We will continue to show the world that our commitments to justice and human rights are more powerful than the hatred that caused the unthinkable acts.”

Although the City Council’s pleas did not eliminate the ethnic and religious prejudice that bubbled just under the surface and, at times, erupted into threats and even violence in the months and years to come, their reaction was emblematic of the feelings of so many who called for unity and solidarity instead of division, blame, and retribution. In the weeks following September 11, the Cambridge community overwhelmingly demonstrated its belief in the power of connection and mutual respect as neighbors aided one another, both in tangible ways and by showing up for one another in the wake of this unprecedented tragedy.