Tzvetan Todorov, in his Preface to the English language edition of (to use the English title) Hope and Memory (2000, first published in English translation 2003), reminds his reader of what has now become a tediously commonplace mantra:
After the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, many commentators declared that something radically novel had happened, and that history—if not the history of the human race, then at least modern Western history—was henceforth divided into a ‘before’ and an ‘after’.
“What”, he asks, “is the content of this novelty?” My natural cynicism suggests to me that the declaration, if repeated often enough, is itself sufficient to persuade us that 9/11 was a turning point in history. Todorov considers, only to reject, other possibilities. “The slaughter of civilians,” for example, “is nothing new”. And although “[s]ome degree of novelty might be found in the fact that America was attacked on its own soil”, the act—rather than the incidental location—of terrorism is one with which the “inhabitants of Europe’s major cities, not to mention those of other continents, have long been familiar”.
Todorov’s conclusion is rather that “the attacks showed the increasing power of individuals and small groups. In the past, only a state—and a powerful one at that—could have organised such a complex action; 9/11 was the work of a few dozen people at most.”
I believe Todorov’s analysis is wrong. Not wildly wrong, yet wrong all the same. But then, to an Englishman such as myself, Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot has three hundred years of cultural pedigree that might well be lost on a French-Bulgarian philosopher for whom 5th November is probably a quiet night at home. While Todorov properly highlights the ‘free enterprise’ aspect of the attacks on American soil, ‘privatisation’—so cherished a shibboleth of Western economies in the 1980s—has long been the hallmark of terrorist organisations. Thus one might also make mention here of the Baader-Meinhof Red Army Faction, the IRA, ETA, the Brigade Rosse, and many other non-governmental organisations; though I suspect Todorov would counter-argue that they lacked the theatrical panache of the WTC crew.
My personal intuition is that, by the moral equivalent of the card sharp’s sleight-of-hand, 9/11 gave the US (or, to be fair and more specific, the Bush administration and its neo-conservative co-religionists) the opportunity to mould international horror and sympathy into an acquiescence to America’s prerogative to define thenceforth the political and moral agenda and values of the world as a whole. “They hate our freedoms … These terrorists kill not merely to end lives, but to disrupt and end a way of life,” proclaimed Bush to a Joint Session of Congress on 20th September 2001 (presumably not reflecting on the fact that, in so saying, he was giving the perpetrators cause to reflect whether, in that case, more appropriate targets might have been Iceland, Sweden, or Switzerland.) “This is not, however, just America’s fight. And what is at stake is not just America’s freedom. This is the world’s fight. This is civilization’s fight. This is the fight of all who believe in progress and pluralism, tolerance and freedom.”
“Every nation, in every region, now has a decision to make. Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists“. To voice criticism of the US, and of US domestic and foreign policy, was thus thenceforward to align oneself with those who hate “progress and pluralism, tolerance and freedom”. Let not the significance of this be lost: the US had emerged at the end of the 20th century, with the implosion of the Soviet empire, as the sole remaining superpower; yet was so by default, and still by default ‘marketed’ under the now deprecated ‘war-on-communism’ ‘brand’. Thus, with the demise of the USSR and the collapse of its satellite states, the US had lost its raison d’être. The ‘war on drugs’ had some minimal mileage, perhaps, but too little to sustain the US as the custodian of the ‘global values’ that would justify its continuing global interference (or, to use that now tired euphemism, its role as ‘global policeman’). A new enemy, stepping onto the stage with the dazzling theatricality of a 9/11, filled the role admirably: the ‘war on terror’ was born! and the superpower menaced with imminent superannuation had been given the occasion and the pretext by which to re-brand itself.
My conclusion? neither novel nor surprising, I confess. It is that the US, under Bush and his coterie, has packaged, trademarked, branded, and marketed 9/11 as an ideological behemoth, bolstered with vacuous rhetoric and tyrannical laws, to suppress and destroy the real enemy of their America. “There is an emerging second superpower”, writes James F. Moore, of the Berkman Center for Internet & Society, in March 2003, “but it is not a nation. Instead, it is a new form of international player … While some of the leaders have become highly visible, what is perhaps most interesting about this global movement is that it is not really directed by visible leaders, but, as we will see, by the collective, emergent action of its millions of participants.” Millions, huh? A redoutable adversary indeed. Who are they? Islamic fundamentalists? nuke-toting Middle-Eastern fanatics? In that same month, in the cover story of The Nation magazine, entitled ‘The Other Superpower’, Jonathan Schell wrote: “The new superpower possesses immense power, but it is a different kind of power: not the will of one man wielding the 21,000-pound MOAB but the hearts and wills of the majority of the world’s people.” James Moore again:
“The beautiful but deeply agitated face of this second superpower is the worldwide peace campaign, but the body of the movement is made up of millions of people concerned with a broad agenda that includes social development, environmentalism, health, and human rights. This movement has a surprisingly agile and muscular body of citizen activists who identify their interests with world society as a whole—and who recognize that at a fundamental level we are all one. … Which brings us to the most important point: the vital role of the individual. The shared, collective mind of the second superpower is made up of many individual human minds—your mind and my mind—together we create the movement. In traditional democracy our minds don’t matter much—what matters are the minds of those with power of position, and the minds of those that staff and lobby them. In the emergent democracy of the second superpower, each of our minds matters a lot. For example, any one of us can launch an idea.”
Although written in early 2003, the words of Schell and Moore, and of Patrick Tyler who had a month earlier publicly identified the new emergent ’superpower’ in an analysis piece on the front page of the New York Times, point to the real turning point in history of which the events of 11th September 2001 have become a convenient bookmark: the moment at which, in the wake of Enron and of a controversial presidential election and of the pernicious G8 Summit in Genoa and of U.S. Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld’s disclosure that over $2,000,000,000,000 in Pentagon funds could not be accounted for and … but continue the long list for yourself, the ineluctable confrontation between the First and Second Superpowers finally became an acknowledged and inescapable reality. With the impossibility of trusting any longer in the integrity and beneficence of government, and with the consequent disintegration of the Grand Narratives that had dominated and directed our Western world view for a hundred years or more, there has emerged a now powerful, very sceptical, very cynical, and very serious popular challenge to those who rule the world. And that makes us—We the People—dangerous.
So, yes, it seems to me that Todorov is wrong: the ‘novelty’ lies not in the privatisation of terror but in the reclamation of democracy: we are all anarchists now. James Moore was heavily criticised for hi-jacking the ’second superpower’ concept as originally articulated by Patrick Tyler (grassroots popular opposition to the free rein of corporate-controlled government) by identifying it with the new popular ‘technocracy’ of internet users; yet it seems to me that Moore is probably largely correct—it is only in virtue of the ease and immediacy of communication (and hence organisation) afforded by the internet that, in any case, direct action of such scale in the real world has become possible; and it is only in virtue of that same ease and immediacy of communication that the Grand Narratives of the 20th century could be supplanted by the multi-vocal plethora of counter-narratives that characterise the new millennium. Yet unfortunately it is the cacophony of voices that could be its own undoing.
References:
Patrick E. Tyler, ‘A New Power In the Streets‘, New York Times, February 17, 2003
Jonathan Schell, ‘ The Other Superpower’, The Nation, March 27, 2003 (April 14, 2003 issue)
James F. Moore, ‘The Second Superpower Rears its Beautiful Head‘, March 31, 2003
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