Shared Governance: Pleas and Provocations

A publication of the Boulder Faculty Assembly Communications Committee
Editor: Tom Mayer
Technical Editor: Sierra Swearingen

October, 2002

IN THIS ISSUE: Reflections on 9/11

September 11, 2001 has already become a decisive date in American history. The full consequences of what happened on that day remain to be discovered. Nevertheless the one year anniversary of September 11 understandably generated much emotion, reflection, and analysis. An articulate and varied set of reflections occurred at a symposium held on the CU campus on the evening of September 10, 2002 and sponsored by the Boulder Faculty Assembly. This issue of Pleas and Provocations is entirely devoted to the presentations made at that symposium. All the speakers were invited to contribute to this issue, but only six were able to do so. The essays below are modest revisions of the talks given at the September 10, 2002 meeting. They are the following: (1) Francis Beer “Meanings of 9/11", (2) Patricia Limerick “September 11 and Historical Amnesia”, (3) Patricia Raybon “The Media After 9/11", (4) Alison Jaggar “9/11 One Year Later: How Have We Changed?”, (5) Ira Chernus “Cold War Redux”, and (6) Tom Mayer “Some Consequences of September 11". The Boulder Faculty Assembly, it goes without saying, is not responsible for any of the opinions expressed below.

- Editor



MEANINGS OF 9/11
Francis A. Beer, Department of Political Science

The meanings of 9/11 are embedded in the events, talk, and thoughts of the past year. They are in the deeds, words, and ideas of those who boarded the projectile airplanes that fateful morning, of those who watched them approach their destinations, of those who resisted, and of the victims who died when they struck their targets. They are in the reactions of the families and friends of those who died, of fire and police officers, media and political people, New Yorkers and Americans, and observers in all parts of the world.

During this year, we have tried to make new sense of our world. We have counted the casualties and mourned the dead. All of us have felt new stresses and vulnerabilities. We have celebrated our heroes, and set off to punish the guilty. One step on this path has been the military attack on al-Qaeda and the Taliban in Afghanistan. The fate of Osama bin Laden is unknown, the Taliban have been dispersed but still exist. Less has been said about the casualties we have inflicted on Afghan civilians, although some have claimed them to be greater than the victims of the original event (www.cursor.org/stories/civilian_deaths.htm ).

The domestic costs have also been great. In order to achieve greater security, our open, democratic society has been diminished. Civil liberties have been ignored as the government has taken and held prisoners without due process. Racial profiling has been accepted. Air transportation has been made more difficult, and major airlines have headed into bankruptcy. There has been extensive public discussion of the events of that day and their aftermath (www.newyorker.com/archive/previous/)

In the search for greater security, the United States now prepares for war on Iraq. Weapons of mass destruction in hostile hands pose a greater potential threat than poorly guarded commercial airliners. Suppression of their proliferation has become a major priority. The war of weapons is prepared beforehand by a strategic war of words carried in American and global media (www.nybooks.com/articles/15698).

We have clearly embarked on a course of war, war against terrorism, war against evil, war against the axis of evil. War in Afghanistan, war in Iraq. War in Iran, war Libya? War in Sudan, war in Syria? War in North Korea ? This is a war that has no natural boundaries in space or time. While it may have an identifiable beginning in time and a place of origin, it has no foreseeable historical end nor any obvious geographical limit.

The scope of this war is defined by its aim: to rid the world of terrorism. At the same time, the globalization of war implies costs and risks. There will be casualties, military and civilian, foreign and American. In an age of weapons proliferation, the global destruction of weapons of mass destruction implies mass destruction. The great military theorist Carl von Clausewitz referred to the friction and fog of war. As most political leaders in the region have been at pains to point out, once a land war begins in the Middle East and Central Asia, its progress is unpredictable. Beginning such a conflict will be easier than ending it.

There may be a cascade of unintended, destabilizing, follow-on effects in the complex international network. These include other states possibly using American preemptive intervention as a model for their own purposes: Russia in Georgia, Pakistan and India, China in Taiwan? Beyond setting a precedent for others to strike first, current American doctrine encourages hair-trigger responses. States that feel like "sitting ducks" have a perverse incentive to "use it or lose it" in reply to perceived first strike signs by others. Finally there are incentives for countries in the nuclear queue to accelerate the development of their own capabilities, anticipating that other states might decide to take them out "before it is too late."

There are also domestic risks for our society. Historical experience shows that, in the fever of war, we compress our republican institutions. Power flows naturally to the President, who is the Commander in Chief. Congress has a diminished role. Opposition dies in the fire of hyper-patriotism.

The ship of state stands on a course for war. Current American leaders support unilateral action, using military force in preemptive first strikes, as the late Secretary of State John Foster Dulles put it, at times and places of our own choosing.

At the same time, many voices within the United States and abroad call for a more multilateral policy, using other available processes. They argue that international organizations such as the United Nations and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization have important roles as arenas for discussion and mobilization of political support. When military force must be used, it should be consistent with the norms of the international community. It should imply a measured, proportionate response to clear and present danger. Deterrence and containment instead of offense and intervention, under-reaction to provocation, will tend to dampen conflict. Other sticks and carrots (diplomatic, economic, social, cultural, and scientific) offer a full range of soft power alternatives (www.oup.co.uk/isbn/0-19-515088-0).

The course of prudence takes account of the multiple meanings of any situation of war and peace. It recognizes the claims of realism and the harsh requirements of the international struggle for power if the state is to survive and protect its citizens muse.jhu.edu/journals/international_security/v027/27.1snyder.pdf). At the same time, it also respects the importance of the domestic and global struggle for meaning socsci.colorado.edu/~beer/PAPERS/MeaningsBook.html. There is no complete security, no final solution in an open society.

Prudence aims to preserve and develop our complex democracy. It supports its performance in a global context. And it recognizes the importance of peace to that democratic, global enterprise. All the meanings of 9/11 will ultimately be shaped by how well the ship of state steers to this star.

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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.

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The Media After 9/11
Patricia Raybon, School of Journalism and Mass Communication

What Has Changed?

One year later, what has changed in the news media? In truth, not much, and not enough. Call it superficiality, but a kind of sublime myopia still pervades news messages, leaving too many Americans still at a loss to explain and understand the world in which we live.

Consider this recent example: On the Today Show, Gov. George Pataki of New York, reflecting one year later on the 9/11 tragedy, intoned to an empathetic Katie Couric: “They attacked us for our freedoms.” A great quote? Couric seemed to agree. Indeed, the statement may be comforting, assuring or even inspiring. But it isn’t true. While it may seem crass these days to criticize Gov. Pataki, or anybody else in New York, his remarks ­ and Katie Couric’s sympathetic response ­ prompt the question: Why do even high-ranking American officials persist in trivializing a real and complex situation; and why do the media participate in this simplification? The question seems relevant, indeed, considering that one year ago most Americans, in our shock, were asking: “Who are these people yelling ‘Death to America’ and why do they hate us?”

On our campus, even students of journalism, whose bread and butter is the news, struggled to understand the horrible event without having a wider context. In the J-School, it was disturbing, indeed, to watch journalists-in-training wring their hands over their ignorance of Islamic militarism and its implications for America. After all, we live in an “All News, All the Time” society, as many have called it. How have the news media been using all that air time? What, indeed, are the myths -- that is, the stories, or the cultural narratives -- by which the media inform us every day?

Do these myths, by being retold daily, reinforce our beliefs, but don’t necessarily deepen our understanding about who we are and what’s happening in the world? When a governor of one of the largest and most important states in the nation is asked to explain Sept. 11, why does he say, “they attacked us for our freedoms”? And why does even a seasoned journalist accept that as true, even when such logic hardly begins to explain the Al-Qaeda network and its objectives? To address such questions, I decided to step back from Sept. 11 and examine media messages that saturate American thinking everyday.

Some Meta Messages

Sadly, and not surprising, some obvious meta messages persist: Black people are athletes and criminals. White people are industrious and good-hearted. Media scholar Robert Entman, author of The Black Image in the White Mind: Media and Race in America, says of the racial prototypes: “At least on television, the market discourages serious, complicated reporting and promotes mayhem and fluff. This means more attention to crime without context, poverty without explanation, and less attention to the complicated histories and institutional practices that privilege Whites and burden Blacks.”

The same prototypical approach has burdened others on the margins of American news: children, gays, immigrants. Even American teens and young adults, it could be argued, are presented in presumptive ways through messages that, as Entman puts it, “confirm belief rather than deepen understanding of community.”

On the global scene, similar mythic messages persist in the news in ways that discourage better understanding of the world in which we live. Here are three such messages: America is best. Americans are heroes. Americans are the best heroes everywhere.

While these messages may inspire Americans, they suggest attitudes of arrogance and superiority that, indeed, may "read" as arrogance in other parts of the world. As Simon Li, foreign editor of The Los Angeles Times argues, “There are more ways of living and thinking than the American way. And there are different values. They exist and need to be taken into account.”

A Problem with Perspective

Still, other related messages also have become standards in news media, including this one: American deaths matter more than other deaths. David T. Z. Mindich, a journalism historian, who has written about this phenomenon, calls it “the bias of unequal deaths.” I call it the “arithmetic of news,” whereby one local death in a car crash or one scandalous homicide merits more air time or newspaper ink than hundreds of deaths in a tragedy far from “home.” So while it’s understandable that Americans convulsed over the deaths of Sept. 11 ­ almost 3,000 in a single, horrible morning ­ we might also consider, as Mindich reminds his students, that 5,000 people a day die of HIV/AIDS in Africa, some 3,000 innocent people choked to death on poisonous gas in Bohpal in Central India, on Dec. 2, 1984, and another 14,000 people, according to some estimates, have since died because of that Union Carbide tragedy.

Or consider the United Nations report, “Children on the Brink,” which details how 20 million children in Africa, and potentially even more in China, will be orphaned by AIDS by the end of this decade ­ just eight short years from now. Is it any wonder that observers around the world look at Americans and think we have a problem with perspective? Indeed, so pervasive are American media myths that, as Mindich and other critics have noted, Americans no longer have to listen to or read the news to feel as if they know what’s going on (and a shrinking news audience may confirm this trend).

Combating the Trend?

Instead, the stories just run together. So one suicide bombing looks no different from the next. One crime story looks no different from the next. One devastating flood or drought or famine or epidemic looks no different from all the others that have come before, and still are to come. It’s too easy to succumb, as Entman says, to “the daily diet of junk journalism and its superficial picture of the world.” In the present-day world, however, superficialities and misunderstandings can result in tragedy of horrific proportions. The simplistic paltriness of news information could injure our nation, and our world, beyond imagination.

How can American journalism combat this trend? First, with courage ­ courage to change our practices. Next, with faith ­ faith in our readers’ and viewers’ capacity to digest both the complex and the unsettling. Some journalists thought that the sheer magnitude of 9/11 would force the kind of media change that Americans so desperately need to live in and respond to a troubled, complex world. Sadly, however, we are still hoping ­ and we are still waiting.

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9/11 ONE YEAR LATER: HOW HAVE WE CHANGED?
Alison M. Jaggar, Women’s Studies Program and Department of Philosophy

One year after the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, I am concerned about recent changes in the way the word "terrorism" is used.

What is terrorism?

In its central meaning, "terrorism" refers to politically motivated attacks on civilian targets. Terrorism is designed both to damage those targets and to create terror among the civilians who identify with them.

Terrorism is distinguished from war by the fact that its targets are civilian or private, not symbols or representatives of state power, such as political leaders or military forces. Of course, war as well as terrorism is harmful to civilians but the so-called rules of war forbid direct military attacks on civilian targets. When harm to civilians does occur, as an unintended by-product of military activity, it is nowadays called "collateral damage." Terrorism is distinguished from ordinary crimes by its motive, which is ideological rather than personal.

Who are the agents of terrorism?

In today’s Western media, terrorists are usually portrayed as crazed individuals, such as the so-called Unabomber, or as fanatical members of ideological groups. Indeed crazed individuals and fanatical ideologues regularly carry out terrorist attacks in most countries of the world, as do people who are regularly sane. Sometimes these fanatics target members of unpopular or stigmatized groups, such as religious, ethnic, racialized, or immigrant minorities or gypsies. Attacks like this are often portrayed as expressions of personal prejudice or hatred but, when they are intended to intimidate other members of the group to which the person(s) attacked belongs, they should really be understood as politically motivated acts of terror. Lynchings, cross-burnings or attacks on abortion clinics or clinic employees are often terrorist acts, not simply individual hate crimes.

In addition to being perpetrated by private individuals and non-governmental organizations, terrorism may also be perpetrated by states. Indeed, the use of the word "terrorism" to describe political violence derives from the French Revolution’s "reign of terror," when the Jacobin government executed large numbers of civilians in an effort to stifle dissent.

States may be terrorist in several ways. For example:

  1. In wartime, states may order their military forces to attack enemy populations. State sanctioned terror by military forces is distinct in principle from the unauthorized attacks on civilians that soldiers often commit. For example, mass rapes ordered by political authorities are very different from even widespread raping committed against orders.
  2. Governments may also harass and terrorize segments of their own populations by means of discriminatory legislation and law enforcement. The terrorization of Jews by the government of Nazi Germany was distinct from anti-Semitic acts perpetrated by individual citizens.
  3. States may engage in terrorism covertly as well as overtly, using unofficial militias to assassinate political opponents or labor leaders. In the 1970s and 1980s, extra-judicial death squads linked with the government were common in several Latin American countries.
  4. Finally, covert state terrorism, like overt terrorism, may extend beyond a country’s own borders. In the 1980s, the United States government supported the so-called "contras" (counter-revolutionaries) in Nicaragua, who sought to undermine the Sandinista government by attacking farms and clinics.

State terrorism has always caused far more harm than non-state terrorism for the obvious reason that the resources available to states are typically far more powerful and destructive than those available to private individuals or groups. Since 9/11 last year, however, state terrorism goes increasingly unacknowledged.

Recent distortions in the public understanding of terrorism

Last year’s dramatic attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon have become so widely accepted as paradigms of terrorism that attacks that do not resemble those are often not considered terrorist today. Two related distortions in the public understanding of terrorism are especially disturbing. One regards all attacks by irregular or guerrilla forces as terrorist, even if their targets not civilian but instead are soldiers or warships. The second regards no attacks by official military forces as terrorist, even if their targets are civilian.

These two tendencies are clearly illustrated in much reporting of events in Israel and Palestine. In the U.S. media, Palestinian fighters are almost always described as terrorist, even when their targets are military rather than civilian. Yet Palestinian forces are necessarily irregular because Palestine is not recognized as a state. Conversely, the Israeli Defense Forces are never described as terrorist, even when they are attacking targets that seem indisputably civilian, such as ambulances and homes.

Such slippages in the concept of terrorism prejudice moral and political judgements. When all violence by irregular forces is labeled terrorist, even if it is directed against political or military targets, then it is automatically condemned. It becomes impossible to justify any attacks by rebels without uniforms, because their actions can never be recognized as acts of war. Conversely, when the possibility of state terrorism is forgotten, government sanctioned violence against civilians escapes the condemnation it deserves.

My purpose here is primarily conceptual. I do not wish to take a stand on any aspect of the Israel/ Palestine conflict. I invoke contemporary reporting of this conflict only to illustrate a recent distortion in the meaning of the word terrorism. If we are to evaluate situations fairly, we need to use the word terrorism accurately.

Could the United States war on terror be terrorist itself?

A war on terror sounds as morally unobjectionable as a war on disease or a war on poverty. However, even wars with just aims may be pursued by unjust means. Some people are concerned that the United States government may be using the rhetoric of fighting terrorism as a justification for supporting and even engaging in terrorist activities. For example,

  1. In a NYT Op Ed article (August 20) entitled "Losing Our Best Allies in the War on Terror," Jeffrey Goldfarb, a professor of sociology at New York’s New School, worries that current United States policies are alienating the world’s democrats. He reports that many foreign students enrolled in his courses on democracy and diversity believe that, in the name of fighting terrorism, the U.S. government is supporting crack downs on democracy advocates by authoritarian regimes around the world. Among such regimes, Goldfarb cites the Philippines, Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, Pakistan and Saudi Arabia.
  2. Other critics are concerned that the USA Patriot Act, hastily passed in the aftermath of 9/11 and signed into law on October 26, 2001, violates several parts of the United States constitution. Representative Dennis J. Kucinich (D-Ohio) has charged that the USA Patriot Act violates the First, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth and Eighth Amendments. The laws comprising USA Patriot Act are so repressive and permit such discriminatory application that many critics argue that they authorize agents of the U.S. government to terrorize some United States citizens and residents.
  3. In a recent article entitled "The Troubling New Face of America," (Washington Post, September 5, 2002) former president Jimmy Carter criticized the treatment of several hundred captured Taliban soldiers imprisoned on the United States military base at Guantanamo Bay. He quoted the United States Secretary of Defense as declaring that these soldiers would not be released even if they were someday tried and found to be innocent. Carter observed that such actions resemble those of abusive regimes that historically have been condemned by American presidents. He stated that the United States, "formerly admired almost universally as the pre-eminent champion of human rights¼has become the foremost target of respected international organization concerned about the basic principles of democratic life."

Conclusion

Because terrorism is widely condemned, debates about which actions are terrorist are frequently passionate. Such debates cannot always be settled easily. For instance:

  • Attackers whose motives are unknown may be terrorists or simply thugs.
  • In wartime, it is often difficult to distinguish deliberate terror from accidental "collateral damage," because it may be debated how far particular harms to civilians were foreseeable, avoidable or officially condoned.
  • It may be difficult to draw the line between state terror and the systemic injustice of harshly discriminatory laws or practices of law enforcement.
  • Some may deny that attacks on property, as opposed to persons, are acts of terror. Contemporary mainstream media usually conflate the two but anarchists have long distinguished assassination from sabotage.
  • What counts as a civilian target may also be debated. For instance, workers in weapons industries may be seen as integral parts of a war machine and members of colonizing populations may be regarded as representatives of an invasive state.

The possibility of disputing a concept’s applicability in a particular situation does not render that concept useless. All concepts have "fuzzy borders," even the most commonly used. However, concepts do become worthless if their use degenerates to the purely rhetorical. President Reagan described the United States supported contras as freedom fighters, famously asserting, "I am a contra." (He also described terrorist Jonas Savimbi as Angola’s Abraham Lincoln and the Taliban as the moral equivalent of the founding fathers.) If those on my side are always freedom fighters and those on yours are always terrorists, then "terrorist" and "freedom fighter" lose both their descriptive meaning and their moral force.

In order for the term "terrorism" to retain any significance, it is important to remember that its central meaning is politically motivated violence against civilian targets. And in order for us to retain any moral credibility, it is important that we condemn all such violence, whether it is perpetrated by Timothy McVeigh, by the Klu Klux Klan, by al Qaeda, or by governments far or near. If the government of the United States turns to terror, it will be the most powerful and dangerous terrorist in the world.

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Cold War Redux
Ira Chernus, Religious Studies

The most important intellectual change in the past year is our return to the language and worldview of the cold war era. In U.S. public discourse, one important theme has always been the idea of having a divinely ordained mission, of being God’s chosen people. But chosen to do what? For most of our history, the answers to that question spoke of endless progress, changing things for the better for all Americans and, many believed, for all humanity.

Cold War Discourse

The prevailing idea of mission changed dramatically during the cold war. The justifications for the U.S. cold war effort were mostly about preventing things from getting worse. Americans got used to the idea that the enemy might well be there forever. The best to hope for was containing this enemy forever. An impermeable wall of containment supposedly insured national security.

Political, social, and economic changes around the world constantly threatened to pierce that wall. So U.S. political discourse was dominated by fears of these changes. Our nation’s special role in the world was no longer to create positive change. It was now, above all, to prevent disastrous change, to make sure that the world did not get terribly worse.

In the late 1960s, U.S. leaders tried to prevent change in Vietnam. The reaction to the Vietnam War set off all sorts of change in this country. Nixon and Reagan came to power as the great defenders of the status quo. It is no accident that the cold war years saw our domestic political life shift so noticeably to the right. If our mission was to conserve things, to prevent change around the world, it was only natural to become more conservative at home too.

When the Berlin Wall came crashing down in 1989, the whole cold war structure of language and meaning threatened to come crashing down with it. National leaders and pundits rushed to shore it up. They warned us that the world was not less, but more, dangerous, precisely because we could not know who the enemy was. When George W. Bush was running for president in 2000, he said, "Today, we still have enemies. We don’t know who they are, but we know they are out there."

Ending the Era of Confusion

On September 11, 2001, we learned who they are. The era of confusion ended. Our new mission became, in Bush’s words, "the destruction and the defeat of the global terror network." We were back on familiar ground, squared off against "the evil ones" who hate our freedoms, marshalling all our resources to prevent catastrophic change.

One important question was left open, however. Were we back in the days of World War II, uniting for a war that would end only with the enemy’s unconditional surrender? It sounded that way when Bush said that terrorists "follow in the path of fascism, Nazism and totalitarianism. And they will follow that path all the way to where it ends in history's unmarked grave of discarded lies."

Yet Bush said something else that night, which went largely unnoticed. He described the new war on terrorism as "a task that does not end." Vice-President Cheney agreed: "There's not going to be an end date when we're going to say, ’There, it's all over with.’'' Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld acknowledged that U.S. actions "surely will not" eliminate terrorism "completely from the face of the Earth." In other words, the goal is not unconditional surrender but merely containment, just as it was in the cold war. Rumsfeld was quite candid about this. The "new kind of war" is not so new, he admitted. "It undoubtedly will prove to be a lot more like a cold war than a hot war.''

Bush and his administration realize that they can’t rally public support for a war aiming only at containment. Most of the time, they say that the war on terrorism will end with something like unconditional surrender. But the truth is already out. Who really believes that we can ever put an end even to Al-Qaeda, much less to all terrorist networks everywhere? Just as in the cold war years, we must assume that the enemy, in one form or another, will always be at our gates.

The Uses of Evil

The parallel with the cold war was strengthened when the president told us that we must fight an "axis of evil." The administration has consistently linked terrorism and "axis of evil" nations as two sides of same threat. This creates an image of all the evildoers as a highly organized structure. The war on terrorism thus becomes a much more organized and familiar kind of struggle between the nations of good and the nations of evil. And, as in the cold war years, we are told that we must be willing to use weapons of mass destruction precisely because the enemy has and may use those weapons.

Once the "axis of evil" is linked to terrorism, which can never be wholly eliminated, it implies that "the axis of evil" is a threat that may be contained, but never eliminated. The war against evil will be endless, giving the government an endless justification for giving itself more and more wartime powers.

During the 2000 presidential campaign the candidates debated about how to create a better future, especially by educating our children more effectively. Today, such talk has virtually disappeared. The real debates are about competing plans to prevent dangerous changes and maintain relative stability. The more we are convinced that insecurity is perpetual, the more we fear and resist fundamental change. Our slogan is not, "United we move" or "United we progress," but "United we stand."

The National Insecurity State

As long as insecurity dominates the public landscape, there will be fear of change of every kind. The polls tell us that the public generally favors all sorts of liberal proposals for domestic improvement. Yet conservatives manage to block most of those plans. They play skillfully on the fear of change that is deeper than the hope for change. Even though, in the latest polls, a majority once again says that the country is headed in the wrong direction, there is no overwhelming demand for basic change.

This is not surprising. When constant change provokes widespread fear and despair, the conviction of unchanging insecurity engenders a paradoxical kind of confidence. In the face of a massive shock to our cultural assumptions, there is a strange satisfaction in returning to the familiar terrain of the cold war. The prospect of another long era of cold war erases the uncertainties of the ‘90s. It returns our culture to the certitude of simplistic absolutes. It tells us that nothing has really changed and nothing need ever change.

That promise of continuity is immensely reassuring. It offers the best reason to go on resisting change. Perhaps many Americans now look ahead with more hope precisely because they can now believe that there is nothing really new to hope for, that the future will not be fundamentally different from the present. They cling to the insecurity that justifies their resistance to change. They take comfort in knowing that the explosions of September 11, which we are told changed everything, could not shake the foundations of the national insecurity state.

The problem¾ the fear of terrorist attack¾ has become the solution to our cultural confusion. This is the paradox that keeps us trapped in the conservative politics of the national insecurity state. As we mourn the tragic deaths of September 11, we should also mourn the most tragic death of all: the death of hope for a genuinely better, more secure, more peaceful future.

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Some Consequences of September 11
Tom Mayer, Department of Sociology

The destruction of the World Trade Center and the concomitant murder of three thousand human beings was a terrible crime. The magnitude and the suddenness of this horrendous deed have deeply impacted American consciousness and induced major changes within American politics. I will argue that the political changes induced by September 11 are by no means novel, but activate long standing tendencies within American society.

I will also argue that our government’s response to the crime of September 11 has made matters far worse. A unique opportunity to exercise constructive leadership and move the world in a positive direction has been lost. One year later the political consequences of September 11, for the United States and for the world, seem almost entirely malign. I discuss four of these consequences: accelerated imperialism, eroding democracy, legitimized racism, and hollow values.

Accelerated Imperialism

By virtually any definition the United States has long been an imperialist country. Imperialism, however, comes in many varieties. Since September 11 the arrogance and aggressiveness of the American polity have grown enormously. United States political leaders now claim the right to attack any state they accuse of direct or indirect involvement with terrorism. Over the past year our leaders have publicly discussed the possibility of militarily assaulting as many as 60 different states. They adamantly interpret terrorism to exclude any past, present, or future activities of the American state no matter how violent.

In its current unilateral mode of operation, the United States government routinely disregards the United Nations, ignores international law, and tears up inconvenient treaties. Our leaders claim the right to make preemptive attacks, with preemption being hardly more than a sanitized word for military aggression. As I write these words President Bush and his associates are preparing an unprovoked attack upon Iraq, a country with no demonstrable link to the crime of September 11. Over the past year rhetorical arrogance about the supreme virtues of American society has exceeded all bounds, and our leaders frequently indulge disrespectful diatribes towards the rest of the world. Such bullying passes for world leadership.

Russia is currently the second largest military spender, but the military budget of the USA is about six times the size of Russia’s. Indeed, our military budget exceeds that of the next 24 countries combined.

Eroding Democracy

In the absence of jeopardy virtually any society can afford to be tolerant. The reality of democratic freedom is only tested during times of crisis. In the crisis emanating from September 11 American democracy has performed rather badly. In the name of combating terrorism important freedoms are being dismantled. Political groups can now be placed under surveillance, infiltrated, and even disrupted merely for opposing government policy. The rights of non-citizens have been severely abridged. They can now be arrested and detained just for engaging in constitutionally protected speech. If suspected of harboring a terrorist, a non-citizen can be tried in secret by a military tribunal.

The Fourth Amendment to the United States Constitution, the right of privacy, is under siege. Since September 11, secret searches and wiretaps have become increasingly possible. The FBI and other government investigating agencies can easily subpoena student records, medical files, private financial documents, mental health records, library lending files, and many more previously protected documents. Evidence suggests that a phalanx of private informers – styled as ultra-patriots – is being recruited and trained. Even the possibility of torture has received serious consideration in cases involving suspected terrorists.

Legitimized Racism

American culture, forged in the context of African slavery and its Jim Crow aftermath, is profoundly susceptible to racism. In recent decades overt discrimination was fortunately rendered politically incorrect. Since September 11, however, we have witnessed a resurgence of official and unofficial racism. Throughout our country Muslims and people from the Middle East or South Asia are treated with suspicion, contempt, and sometimes open hostility. Racial profiling by the FBI and INS has become routine and unconcealed.

In the first three months after September 11 about 1,200 Arabs, Muslims, and South Asians were arrested. Through racial targeting over 8,000 immigrants from the Middle East and South Asia have been subjected to interrogation. Deportation orders for about 6,000 Middle Eastern and South Asian people are being expedited. Arab culture and Islamic religion are regularly bashed in both mass media and scholarly publications.

Hollow Values

Although American leaders like to harangue the rest of the world about values and morality, it is painfully obvious that we currently lack a moral or political vision that can inspire other people. Endless consumption? To most thoughtful human beings it seems morally vacuous and environmentally destructive. Electoral democracy? Our electoral process is choreographed by wealth, steered by media images, and subject to gross manipulation. The higher levels of American government are strongly influenced if not controlled by the rich. Equality? This seems a distant memory or perhaps a bad joke. By most measures economic inequality in the United States now exceeds that of any other advanced capitalist society; not to mention our endemic racial inequality. Family values? American families are internationally renowned for their violence, sexual abuse, and instability.

Notwithstanding this overarching reality of moral uncertainty and political oligarchy, we have, since September 11, experienced a deluge of flags and flag waving. The slogan "united we stand" appears on television ads, billboards, stamps, and bumper stickers. But exactly what do we stand united for? Being number one? Maintaining American power? Obedience to the imperial state? Pretense of moral virtue? Reliance upon the flag inadvertently advertises both the substantive hollowness of American values and the political inarticulateness of the American people. Opinion polls – those alienated plebiscites conducted by the mass media – substitute for political dialog and public deliberation.

Nor can the flag be a benign symbol of affection for American society. For the subaltern subjects of the American imperium, the stars and stripes has become emblematic of cultural, economic, and military domination plus our endemic national narcissism. Internally, flag waiving silences dissent and mandates blind patriotism as the principal civic virtue. The current tidal wave of flags cuts off serious discussion about the pressing problems of American society and about non-violent paths towards preventing a recurrence of September 11.

The Futile War

Terrorism is certainly a crime, but war is not the way to defeat it. Despite our immense military prowess, the United States will not win the so-called war against terrorism. Exclusive emphasis on other people’s terrorism blinds us to our own violence, which has usually been far more destructive. Blindness to our own violence will, in turn, provoke more terrorism.

Private or non-state terrorism is a classic weapon of the weak against the strong. Terrorism does not enable the weak to defeat the strong, but it does establish a certain parity between the two. It allows the weak to injure the strong and thus to establish a certain equality with the latter. Retribution by the strong may be a thousand times more deadly, yet the capacity to injure goes both ways. This affirmation of equivalence, of a mutual human vulnerability, is the enduring attraction of terrorism. The willingness of the terrorist to die is token of his good faith. He seeks not personal advantage and, by sharing the fate of the victim, the terrorist lays claim to a common moral universe.

If the United States insists on being the imperialist overlord of the world, it is setting itself up for more terrorist attacks. Immunity to external influence and military invulnerability invites the terrorist response as the only possible self-assertion by the dominated. Al Qaida could be destroyed, but the terrorist impulse will continue.

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IN THIS ISSUE: Reflections on 9/11

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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