Terror attacks remembered

This article is taken from the June 2026 issue of The Critic. To get the full magazine why not subscribe? Find our subscription offers here.

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My cousin Shaya Lebor arrived in Lockerbie, Scotland, in late December 1988. Travelling with a fellow Rabbi, his mission was to locate the remains of his close friend Joseph Miller.

Miller was one of 259 people, including 190 Americans, who died when Pan Am flight 103 exploded over Scotland, also killing 11 people on the ground. Shaya’s mission does not feature in Netflix’s The Bombing of Pan Am 103 but the question as to why private individuals — rather than US officials — had to undertake such a terrible task, runs through this engrossing, often moving drama.

The six-part series, also available on BBC iPlayer, focuses on the joint Scottish-US investigation into the attack. The bombing itself is shown in the first episode, together with its horrible impact on the small community of Lockerbie. Hundreds of tons of wreckage and thousands of pieces of debris rained down over 845 square miles.

Connor Swindells plays Ed McCusker, a Scottish detective; whilst Patrick J. Adams plays FBI agent Dick Marquise, the real-life officers in charge of the investigation. The storyline roams from Scotland to Washington, D.C. and Malta, where the bomb was loaded.

In Lockerbie the doughty, hospitable local ladies rally round, welcoming the relatives of the victims and laundering the clothes of victims. Their warmth and humanity is in sharp contrast to how the US authorities treat the bereaved — in essence as irritants.

There is no system of victim liaison. Neither the airline nor the State Department release much information. American relatives have to collect the remains of their loved ones themselves from airport cargo areas.

These days, it seems incredible that an unaccompanied suitcase containing a bomb could be checked in at Malta, routed through Frankfurt and then loaded onto a transatlantic flight. Tragically, it took so many deaths to improve security procedures.

As for Rabbi Shaya and his colleague, after days of searching they eventually they found their friend’s remains and took him home to be buried. Terrorism however, like security procedures, evolves. None of the changes after Lockerbie prevented planes being turned into weapons of mass destruction. This autumn marks the 25th anniversary of the 9/11 attack, the day that changed the world.

A total of 2,977 people were murdered that morning, including my cousin Leon Lebor. Thousands more were injured or left bereft with grief and loss. Netflix’s documentary Turning Point: Generation 9/11 explores the impact of the attack both on the United States and those whose lives were changed forever.

Directed by Brian Knappenberger, Generation 9/11 is rigorous and profoundly moving. It opens with images that are familiar but still shocking: the jet planes crashing into the towers and their subsequent collapse, the screams of pedestrians as they flee rolling clouds of dust and debris, the dazed rescue workers.

Knappenberger always keeps the human story to the fore, bringing home the enduring and terrible legacy of that day. An Nguyen was four years old when his father Khang Ngoc, a US Navy contractor, was killed at the Pentagon. He speaks eloquently of his loss, waiting in vain for him to come home, then growing up without a father by his side.

The film skilfully traces the consequences of 9/11, through the War on Terror up to the conflict in Afghanistan and President Biden’s chaotic, disastrous withdrawal in 2021.

One of those left behind was the wife of an Afghan former fighter pilot. Her husband now raises their two small children alone in the United States, working part-time for Amazon. Their mother is trapped under the Taliban.

Michael Smoak, a former US Marine sergeant, was on duty at Kabul airport’s Abbey Gate when thousands tried to flee. Young Marines like Smoak had to decide who was allowed through. “What started on 9/11 ended right here at Abbey Gate. We were told that we were to treat the Taliban like they were our allies,” he says. This powerful film recounts how and why that happened.

On a different note, I have always regretted turning down a commission to report from Greenland. I eventually got to neighbouring Iceland and was captivated by its bleak, spectacular landscapes.

Greenland is like Iceland, but only more so. Three times the size of Texas, it has a population of less than 60,000. Many of those people live in the capital Nuuk. Eighty per cent of Greenland’s landmass is covered in ice, under which lies vast mineral wealth — one reason why President Trump has the world’s largest island in his sights. Season Four of Borgen, on Netflix, was made before the current bust-up, but is no less topical.

Sidse Babett Knudsen returns as Birgitte Nyborg, now foreign minister, a step down from her former job as Danish prime minister. Huge oil reserves have been discovered in Greenland. The locals are ecstatic, believing that the new riches can lead them to independence. But the climate-conscious Danish government is opposed to extracting the oil. Meanwhile Washington is trying to take control behind the scenes. Once again, Borgen skilfully weaves together personal and political storylines.

Nyborg is older but not necessarily wiser. Between meetings with the American ambassador and Greenlanders resentful of Danish rule, she has to navigate a ferocious menopause whose hot flushes drench her in sweat, and a self-righteous animal activist son who is arrested for criminal damage.

The tension between the Greenlanders and their Danish overlords is skilfully portrayed, giving the Greenlanders plenty of agency. The cinematography is stunning as the camera roams over stark landscapes of white ice and deep blue seas. Next time a commissioning editor calls, I’ll be on the first plane to Nuuk.