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Shared Governance: Pleas and
Provocations |
October, 2002
September 11 and Historical Amnesia
Patricia Limerick, Department
of History
A Speech in Aspen
I approach this topic with humility and discomfort. Western
American history is not a particularly well-positioned area of specialization
for saying anything useful on the subject of the September 11 attacks.
A week and a half after the calamity, driving from Glenwood Springs to
Aspen, my husband and I listened to President Bush’s "war on terror"
speech. When we got out of the car in Aspen, we thought the United States
was at war. The next morning, when I started giving my speech to the Colorado
chapter of the American Planning Association, I made the audience deeply
uncomfortable, as I struggled with the question of whether or not I was
giving a speech in wartime.
The audience began to look intensely ill-at-ease. I gave
up and returned to the talk I was supposed to give on Western land use.
But it was quite the out-of-body experience, as I tried to think why my
perception of a drastically changed world seems so odd and alien to the
audience.
A year later, I am more inclined to think they were right,
and I had it wrong. Normality flooded back in very fast. Most of us returned
to airports. People, some warriors, some civilians, died in distant places.
Politicians and federal officials squabbled over how to put turf aside
and unify agencies in the cause of security. In day to day life, it is
hard to see a clue or a hint that we are living in a nation at war.
Interpretations of the Dead
Reading the New York Times’s profiles of individuals
whose lives were abruptly cut off presents my only way of not losing focus
on what September 11 meant. Reading those portraits leaves me unsatisfied
with the meanings attached to the deaths by people who think, variously,
that the appropriate service to the dead is to kill many more, or that
the dead worked as servants of global capitalism and thus paid with their
lives for an ongoing crime against humanity, or that the deaths were worthwhile
in giving the American people a reminder of what people in other countries
suffer regularly
All of those interpretations of the 9/11 deaths give
me the chills, and so I try to keep it individualized, one lost person
at a time. If I were John Ashcroft for a day, I would put this restriction
on free speech: No one expresses an opinion on appropriate responses to
9/11 until they have read all these portraits of the dead. Yes, free speech
should endure, but I myself can only pay serious attention to analyses
that have passed through the test of attending to these individual lives
and their sudden ending.
Something Old and Terrible
There is one piece of territory where my professional
perspective may have some bearing. For a Western historian, the proposition
that there is something new and terrible about innocent civilians
suffering violent death on American soil is peculiar indeed. For a Western
historian, a more convincing proposition would be this: there is something
old and terrible about innocent civilians suffering violent deaths
in North America.
Of all episodes of historical amnesia, the disappearance
of the Indian wars is one of the most striking. In a sense, the wars weren’t
forgotten at all; the names Custer and Sheridan, Tecumseh and Sitting
Bull, are famous indeed. But the dominant form of this popular memory
has been directed toward quaintness and romance, rendering the Indian
wars colorful, dramatic, and somehow or other not entirely real. Indians
and whites fight constantly on film; there is a line of coffee table books
about the Indian wars; the wars are at once very familiar, and very, very
abstracted and very, very, very trivialized.
Innocent civilians (sometimes Indian, sometimes white)
suffering violent death on American (or what would become American) soil?
New Mexico in 1598
Virginia in 1622 and 1676
Massachusetts in 1637 and 1675-1676
Ohio Valley in the 1780s and the 1790s
Southeast in the 1810s
Illinois in the early 1830s
Oregon in 1847
Minnesota in 1862
Colorado in 1864
And so on and so on.
These raids and wars took place nearly everywhere in
North America. And yet a common assumption nonetheless took shape: after
the American Revolution and the War of 1812, the United States was different
from other nations because its wars were fought overseas, on the land
of other nations. The assumed fact that the American civilian population
lived at a safe distance from the battles was the basis of a resilient
American innocence and naiveté about the human capacity for violence
and brutality.
Historically, this denial of the wars fought on American
soil makes no sense at all, but it is nonetheless a statement made by
pundits aplenty, including some historians who have themselves managed
to forget the Indian wars, while concentrating their attention on more
conventionally "international" relations. The forgetting of
the Indian wars is an extraordinary cultural achievement that shapes many
of the commentaries and responses we have heard over the last year.
Passage from a CNN Transcript
What is the relationship between our ability to reckon
with our Western past and our ability to deal wisely with our international
future? I end with a passage sent to me this morning by my senior auditor,
Marc Sobel. This is a passage from a CNN Crossfire transcript from September
9, 2002; the last person quoted, Scott Ritter, is an experienced UN weapons
inspector who has been making the case against an attack on Iraq:
(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)
DICK CHENEY, VICE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES:
We know he has this capability.
(END VIDEO CLIP)
ANNOUNCER:
And making it urgent.
(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)
GEORGE W. BUSH, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES:
We have no choice.
(END VIDEO CLIP)
ANNOUNCER:
But there's still opposition.
(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)
SCOTT RITTER, FORMER U.N. WEAPONS INSPECTOR:
Basically, it will turn the world into the Wild West.
I hold on to the hope that Scott Ritter’s remark will
prove to be only a figure of speech.
IN THIS ISSUE:
The opinions expressed in these articles are those of the
authors, and do not represent those of the Boulder Faculty Assembly, CU
faculty at large, or the University of Colorado.
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