Tear
Down the 'Freedom Tower'
by
Tom Engelhardt
Recently
by Tom Engelhardt: The
Pentagon’s Fake Jihadists
Let's bag it.
I'm talking
about the tenth anniversary ceremonies for 9/11, and everything
that goes with them: the solemn reading of the names of the dead,
the tolling of bells, the honoring of first responders, the gathering
of presidents, the dedication
of the new memorial, the moments of silence. The works.
Let's just
can it all. Shut down Ground Zero. Lock out the
tourists.
Close "Reflecting Absence," the memorial built
in the "footprints" of the former towers with its grove
of trees, giant pools, and multiple
waterfalls before it can be unveiled this Sunday. Discontinue
work on the underground National September 11 Museum due to open
in 2012. Tear down the Freedom Tower (redubbed 1 World Trade
Center after our "freedom" wars went awry), 102 stories
of "the most expensive skyscraper ever constructed in the United
States." (Estimated
price tag: $3.3 billion.) Eliminate that still-being-constructed,
hubris-filled 1,776 feet of building, planned in the heyday of George
W. Bush and soaring into the Manhattan sky like a nyaah-nyaah invitation
to future terrorists. Dismantle the other three
office towers being built there as part of an $11
billion government-sponsored construction program. Let's
get rid of it all. If we had wanted a memorial to 9/11,
it would have been more appropriate to leave one of the giant shards
of broken tower there untouched.
Ask
yourself this: ten years into the post-9/11 era, haven't we had
enough of ourselves? If we have any respect for history or
humanity or decency left, isn't it time to rip the Band-Aid off
the wound, to remove 9/11 from our collective consciousness?
No more invocations of those attacks to explain otherwise inexplicable
wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and our oh-so-global
war on
terror. No more invocations of 9/11 to keep the Pentagon
and the national security state flooded with money. No more
invocations of 9/11 to justify every encroachment on liberty, every
new step in the surveillance of Americans, every advance in pat-downs
and wand-downs and strip downs that keeps fear
high and the homeland
security state afloat.
The attacks
of September 11, 2001 were in every sense abusive, horrific acts.
And the saddest thing is that the victims of those suicidal monstrosities
have been misused here ever since under the guise of pious remembrance.
This country has become dependent on the dead of 9/11 who
have no way of defending themselves against how they have been used
as an all-purpose explanation for our own goodness and the
horrors we've visited on others, for the many
towers-worth of dead in Iraq, Afghanistan, and elsewhere whose
blood
is on our hands.
Isn't it finally
time to go cold turkey? To let go of the dead? Why keep
repeating our 9/11 mantra as if it were some kind of old-time religion,
when we've proven that we, as a nation, can't handle it and
worse yet, that we don't deserve it?
We would have
been better off consigning our memories of 9/11 to oblivion, forgetting
it all if only we could. We can't, of course. But we
could stop the anniversary remembrances. We could
stop invoking 9/11 in every
imaginable way so many years later. We could
stop using it to make ourselves feel like a far better country than
we are. We could, in short, leave the dead in peace and take
a good, hard look at ourselves, the living, in the nearest mirror.
Ceremonies
of Hubris
Within 24 hours
of the attacks of September 11, 2001, the first
newspaper had already labeled the site in New York as "Ground
Zero." If anyone needed a sign that we were about to
run off the rails, as a misassessment of what had actually occurred
that should have been enough. Previously, the phrase "ground
zero" had only one meaning: it was the spot where a nuclear
explosion had occurred.
The facts of
9/11 are, in this sense, simple enough. It was not a
nuclear attack. It was not
apocalyptic. The cloud of smoke where the towers stood
was no mushroom cloud. It was not potentially
civilization ending. It did not endanger the existence
of our country or even of New York City. Spectacular
as it looked and staggering as the casualty figures were, the operation
was hardly more technologically advanced than the failed
attack on a single tower of the World Trade Center in 1993 by
Islamists using a rented Ryder truck packed with explosives.
A second irreality
went with the first. Almost immediately, key Republicans like
Senator John McCain, followed by George W. Bush, top figures in
his administration, and soon after, in a drumbeat of agreement,
the mainstream media declared that we were "at
war." This was, Bush would say only three days after
the attacks, "the first war of the twenty-first century." Only
problem: it wasn't. Despite the screaming headlines, Ground
Zero wasn't Pearl Harbor. Al-Qaeda wasn't
Japan, nor was it Nazi Germany. It wasn't the Soviet
Union. It had no army, nor finances to speak of, and possessed
no state (though it had the minimalist protection of a hapless government
in Afghanistan, one of the most backward, poverty-stricken lands
on the planet).
And yet
another sign of where we were heading anyone who suggested
that this wasn't war, that it was a criminal act and some sort of
international police action was in order, was simply laughed (or
derided or insulted) out of the American room. And so the
empire prepared to strike back (just as Osama bin Laden hoped it
would) in an apocalyptic, planet-wide "war" for domination
that masqueraded as a war for survival.
In the meantime,
the populace was mustered through repetitive, nationwide 9/11 rites
emphasizing that we Americans were the greatest victims, greatest
survivors, and greatest dominators on planet Earth. It was
in this cause that the dead of 9/11 were turned into potent recruiting
agents for a revitalized American
way of war.
From all this,
in the brief mission-accomplished months after Kabul and then Baghdad
fell, American hubris seemed to know no bounds and it was
this moment, not 9/11 itself, from which the true inspiration for
the gargantuan "Freedom Tower" and the then-billion-dollar
project for a memorial on the site of the New York attacks would
materialize. It was this sense of hubris that those gargantuan
projects were intended to memorialize.
On the tenth
anniversary of 9/11, for an imperial power that is distinctly tattered,
visibly in decline, teetering at the edge of financial disaster,
and battered by never-ending wars, political paralysis, terrible
economic times, disintegrating infrastructure, and weird weather,
all of this should be simple and obvious. That it's not tells
us much about the kind of shock therapy we still need.
Burying
the Worst Urges in American Life
It's commonplace,
even today, to speak of Ground Zero as "hallowed
ground." How untrue. Ten years later, it is
defiled ground and it's we who have defiled it. It could have
been different. The 9/11 attacks could have been like the
Blitz in London in World War II. Something to remember forever
with grim pride, stiff upper lip and all.
And if it were
only the reactions of those in New York City that we had to remember,
both the dead and the living, the first responders and the last
responders, the people who created impromptu memorials to the dead
and message centers for the missing in Manhattan, we might recall
9/11 with similar pride. Generally speaking, New Yorkers were
respectful, heartfelt, thoughtful, and not vengeful. They
didn't have prior plans that, on September 12, 2001, they were ready
to rally those nearly 3,000 dead to support. They weren't
prepared at the moment of the catastrophe to as Secretary
of Defense Donald Rumsfeld so
classically said "Go massive. Sweep it all up. Things
related and not."
Unfortunately,
they were not the measure of the moment. As a result, the
uses of 9/11 in the decade since have added up to a profile in cowardice,
not courage, and if we let it be used that way in the next decade,
we will go down in history as a nation of cowards.
There is little
on this planet of the living more important, or more human, than
the burial and remembrance of the dead. Even Neanderthals
buried their dead, possibly
with flowers, and tens of thousands of years ago, the earliest
humans, the Cro-Magnon, were already burying their dead elaborately,
in one
case in clothing onto which more than 3,000 ivory beads had
been sewn, perhaps as objects of reverence and even remembrance.
Much of what we know of human prehistory and the earliest eras of
our history comes from graves
and tombs
where the dead were provided for.
And surely
it's our duty in this world of loss to remember the dead, those
close to us and those more removed who mattered in our national
or even planetary lives. Many of those who loved and were
close to the victims of 9/11 are undoubtedly attached to the yearly
ceremonies that surround their deceased wives, husbands, lovers,
children, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters. For the nightmare
of 9/11, they deserve a memorial. But we don't.
If September
11th was indeed a nightmare, 9/11 as a memorial and Ground Zero
as a "consecrated" place have turned out to be a blank
check for the American war state, funding an endless trip to hell.
They have helped lead us into fields of carnage that put the dead
of 9/11 to shame.
Every dead
person will, of course, be forgotten sooner or later, no matter
how tightly we clasp their memories or what memorials we build.
In my mind, I have a private memorial to my own dead parents.
Whenever I leaf through my mother's childhood photo album and recognize
just about no one but her among all the faces, however, I'm also
aware that there is no one left on this planet to ask about any
of them. And when I die, my little memorial to them will go
with me.
This
will be the fate, sooner or later, of everyone who, on September
11, 2001, was murdered in those buildings in New York, in that field
in Pennsylvania, and in the Pentagon, as well as those who sacrificed
their lives in rescue attempts, or may now
be dying as a result. Under such circumstances, who would
not want to remember them all in a special way?
It's a terrible
thing to ask those still missing the dead of 9/11 to forgo the public
spectacle that accompanies their memory, but worse is what we have:
repeated solemn ceremonies to the ongoing health of the American
war state and the wildest
dreams of Osama bin Laden.
Memory is usually
so important, but in this case we would have been better off with
oblivion. It's time to truly inter not the dead, but the worst
urges in American life since 9/11 and the ceremonies which, for
a decade, have gone with them. Better to bury all of that
at sea with bin Laden and then mourn the dead, each in our own way,
in silence and, above all, in peace.
September
9, 2011
Tom
Engelhardt [send him mail]
co-founder
of the Nation Institute's TomDispatch.com, is the co-founder of
the American Empire
Project. His book, The
End of Victory Culture, has recently been updated in a newly
issued edition. He edited, and his work appears in, the first best
of TomDispatch book, The
World According to TomDispatch: America in the New Age of Empire
(Verso), an alternative history of the mad Bush years. His new book
is The
American Way of War: How Bush’s Wars Became Obama’s.
Copyright
© 2011 Tom Engelhardt
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