In reflecting on the fifth anniversary of 9/11, I spent more than a few moments trying to decide what I could write about that would have personal meaning for me and at the same time be of potential general interest to others.

A first thought was to be angry on a broad scale — to write about how the Bush administration had squandered the sense of national unity and the world’s sympathy that was a significant immediate fallout of the events of 9/11. Never in my lifetime has the outlook for the United States seemed as gloomy. Our leaders lie to us with impunity, our country is mired in a war in Iraq that drains our resources and soldiers’ lives with no end in sight, we seem no closer to declaring an ultimate victory in the “global war on terror” than we did 5 years ago, our status in the arena of world opinion has never been lower, we have an administration that ignores the dangers of global warming and other threats to the environment and instead works hardest at curtailing our civil liberties at every possible turn, all the while using doublespeak to champion “freedom” as its clarion call.

But it quickly became clear that more than enough other columnists and bloggers would be covering this territory.

A second thought was to be quite personal. I grew up in New York City and surroundings. I made many trips to the top of the World Trade Center, including dining at the Windows on the World restaurant. For a short time, I commuted between New Jersey and New York, passing through the World Trade Center almost every business day. And, throughout much of this time, the twin towers soaring above the the New York skyline was a daily sight, an icon of the place I called home. Although I did not personally know anyone who died in the attacks of 9/11, my emotional reaction to the demise of the towers still feels more than a bit like I imagine my reation would be to the accidental death of a close family member. There is a wound that never heals, that still brings forth tears when I focus on it.

But no, extending this theme further seemed too personal. We all have our stories of 9/11. I did not see any reason to burden you with an entire article about mine.

In the end, prompted by something I read in the New York Times on Sunday, I decided to focus on one aspect of the 9/11 fallout. Yes, it returns to the aforementioned realm of “anger,” but with a more narrow scope.

For the umpteenth time, I read of a government’s official defense of possible mistreatment (torture?) of captured individuals suspected of being terrorists. He said ” “When you are concerned that a hard-core terrorist has information about an imminent threat that could put innocent lives at risk, rapport-building and stroking aren’t the top things on your agenda.”

I have a conflicted reaction to this. On the one hand, I entirely agree. The last thing I would want is to have another catastrophe on the order of 9/11 and discover that it could have been prevented by more intense questioning of someone we had in custody. Depending upon the specifics, I might even be among the first to criticize the actions of those responsible for this failure.

Yet, on balance, I am more concerned about the implications on the other side of this fence. In particular:

• I recall all the articles and books that pointed out how 9/11 itself could have been prevented with better scrutiny of intelligence, better cooperation among agencies, and so on. In not one case was a lack of torture cited as a reason we did not prevent the attacks.

• In at least some cases, it’s important to remember that these captured individuals are only suspected of being terrorists. They have not been convicted. What if we made a mistake? Do we really want to imprison people for years and possibly torture them, only to later find out that they are guilty of…nothing?

• Finally, I am reminded of what the ACLU states when it is criticized for defending the First Amendment rights of an unpopular cause or group (I’m paraphrasing here): “It’s easy to defend the rights of those who agree with you. The real test of your commitment to freedom is your willingness to defend the rights of those with whom you vehemently disagree.”

In the same way, it’s easy to abide by the Geneva conventions in the treatment of prisoners and defend our own civil liberties at the possible expense of a degree of security, when very little is at stake. The real test of our commitment to freedom is when the stakes are large. If we wind up saying, in effect, “The rules apply until they are inconvenient,” then we ultimately have no rules at all.

This is not what I want as the legacy of 9/11.