Exactly 28 years before terrorist attacks claimed 3,000 lives in the United States, an event took place that would symbolize the terror endured by South American countries for decades to come.

On Sept. 11, 1973, a military coup led by Augusto Pinochet overthrew the democratically-elected Chilean government of Salvador Allende and installed a brutal military dictatorship. The military and right wing of Chile opposed Allende because of his Marxist positions.

Similar events happened in several South American countries around that period. In Brazil, a military coup had already occurred in 1964 under similar conditions, and in 1976 a military junta took power in Argentina.

Because of the Cold War, the United States supported these right-wing military dictatorships and was involved in many ways. The United States recognized these authoritarian regimes, provided intelligence to them, trained various militaries—who would latter engage in torture and death squads—at the School of the Americas and, if ever needed, would’ve provided military support. All of this despite the human rights abuses and authoritarian measures taken by these governments.

Although I was born two years after the dictatorship ended in Brazil, the horrors of that period are still in the public consciousness. Several figures in my life were affected by it, and South America as a whole is still scarred.

My high school history teacher had a sister who was tortured. My dad’s friend was “asked” to leave the country. My friend’s dad had to hide a student militant in the countryside.

Students and artists were specifically targeted because of their leftist tendencies and calls for democratization. Student leaders would disappear and be tortured or killed. These were people around my age now. Some of the torture methods included driving needles under fingernails, whipping the feet with bamboo sticks and electric shocks.

Throughout high school I heard about Victor Jara, a Chilean musician and activist who was arrested, tortured and then gunned downed because of his political views. And about Stuart Angel, a Brazilian student militant who, after being tortured, had his mouth tied to the exhaust pipe of a jeep and dragged behind it until his death. Every year there would be news about the Madres de la Plaza de Mayo weeping for their thousands of children who disappeared during Argentina’s Dirty War.

The healing process is still going on, especially since new information about that period is still surfacing. Distrust towards the military and police still exists, and anti-Americanism in the region is related with American involvement during that period—especially the hypocrisy of rhetorically supporting democracies and human rights, but in practice doing the exact opposite.

That dark period has now passed, but it shouldn’t be forgotten. However, it shouldn’t be remembered only by the people who suffered it. The process of suffering, mourning and healing should be a global one if we truly want to avoid tragedies like this in the future.

It may sound hopelessly utopian, but the prospect of a better world is deeply interconnected with the ability to sympathize and empathize with other people’s suffering. Although we may disagree with everything else there is one thing we all have in common: we suffer. Only when we start valuing this human connection more than ideologies, politics and power struggles­—whether they be colonialism, capitalism verses Communism or the War on Terror—will a more peaceful condition be possible.

So, when we remember Sept. 11, 2001, let us also remember Sept. 11, 1973.

De Oliveira is a Belo Horizonte, Brazil junior in journalism, history and peace and conflict studies.