Castillo: In dire times, we’ve rallied together. We can do it again.

Three days after 9/11 forever changed our lives, President George W. Bush climbed the remnants of a charred firetruck at Ground Zero New York, the still-smoldering ashes and mangled steel framing a nightmarish backdrop befitting a movie set. He grabbed a bullhorn, draped his arm around an elderly retired firefighter, and told throngs of weary but boisterous rescue workers that he understood their anguish — and ours.

When one far removed in the crowd said he couldn’t hear, Bush volleyed back emphatically: “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.”

An already electric moment erupted in thunderous cheers and reverberating chants of “USA, USA, USA.” Bush waved a small American flag, the punctuation mark on what would become an iconic moment in history. And with that, in mere minutes, he had underlined our collective identity as Americans under attack. We were in this together.

I was the Statesman’s national editor then and as I watched the scene unfold live on TV, I couldn’t help but be uplifted. It was a respite from the seemingly never-ending terrifying images we had seen for days: of planes crashing into skyscrapers, toppling mighty towers of steel, and into the Pentagon and a field in Pennsylvania. America and its wounded psyche needed a moment like that Ground Zero speech.

It is easy to draw parallels between the Sept. 11, 2001 terrorist attacks and the bleak situation we find ourselves in now. On the morning of Sept. 11, it seemed the world was coming to an end. Today, our sense of normal is upended, our footing slippery as a deadly virus attacks indiscriminately here and around the world.

“Missing the whole world I once knew,” a friend texted me the other day.

But there are stark differences, too, between 9/11 and the current pandemic.

Patriotism soared after 9/11. Military enlistments saw a bump. Prideful displays of the American flag became common, and spontaneous standing ovations for returning troops at airports became a thing. But it was more than patriotism that united us. It was a sense of togetherness. When those towers fell, we all felt it. It changed us.

That galvanizing sense of identity is gone now. In this day of polarization we wrap even our most inconsequential differences in partisanship. Sometimes it seems we revel in them. No surprise then that not all Americans see the coronavirus pandemic as a grave threat. When scientists and medical experts warned us of catastrophic consequences, President Donald Trump called the virus a “hoax,” and blamed the media and Democrats of a conspiracy to wreck his presidency. Reluctantly perhaps, he backed off that absurdity as the pandemic encroached on all facets of our lives, but our ability to respond and prepare at the most critical moment was already compromised.

The damage from such irresponsible rhetoric lingers in other ways, too. A NPR/PBS NewsHour/Marist poll released last week found that just 40 percent of Republicans think the virus is a real threat, compared with 76 percent of Democrats. Even as the virus spreads, fewer Americans see the pandemic as a danger than they did about a month ago.

Our perspectives shape how we respond to calls for action like self-isolation and changing our behaviors. The enemy is a fast-moving contagion. If people don’t believe there’s a health crisis — despite the overwhelming evidence before them — they put other people in danger.

What will it take for a nation to come together for a common good with the urgent response necessary? Perhaps it’s foolhardy in these fractured times to expect another “Bush bullhorn speech” moment. And besides, there are obvious differences in circumstances. In 2011, we could “see” our enemy. Today, our threat is invisible. It knows no nations or boundaries. It doesn’t care about race or religion or ideology or who you voted for.

But it’s not foolish to believe that we can be better than this. It’s not foolish to believe that we can show not just our better selves, but our outstanding selves and that we can come out on the other side better people. Together.

“There's no silver lining, but this might be an occasion to step up and support each other,” Evan Carton, a University of Texas professor told me. He shared a contemplative op-ed about our interconnectedness, which we printed in this newspaper.

We’ve supported each other before in dire times. After tragedies and wars, after 9/11, amid other epidemics. And we can do it again, but not with a large percentage of people standing on the sidelines, recklessly spreading falsehoods that this is all a hoax and overblown.

Like you, I’m dismayed by the hoarding we see at grocery stores and viral videos of fights over toilet paper. But I’m also buoyed by the kind offers on neighborhood listserves to check in on seniors or to help them shop for necessities.

America has lamented for years how polarized we’ve become. We can do something about that. We can rally together again.

So, stay home if you can. Be safe and be selfless. Our well-being is in each other’s hands. We are in this together.

Castillo is the Opinion Pages Editor and a member of the Statesman editorial board.