Confused?
I fucking well am.
Everyone knew it was going to happen eventually. The police, government, security services and so on made it incredibly clear that London or another major city would be subjected to a terrorist attack of proportions that anyone below the age of sixty (at least) would be unfamiliar with. We'd watched it happen in several other "major" European capitals: Madrid, Moscow, Istanbul. As the newsreaders say, it was never a question of "whether".
Developing any kind of sophisticated reaction to events that we have, up to this point, been insulated from by the prophylactic effects of the media is obviously going to be the goal for the British chattering classes. Some have a head start- it's not hard to imagine the headlines for yesterday's events being prepared shortly after the bombs at Atocha. The language that people have used to approach the situation in its immediate aftermath has been appropriated wholesale from the politicians and inhabitants of New York. An outsider might almost pick up on a palpable sense of relieved pressure: a reservoir of trauma has been dammed up behind the non-happening of the event which was always expected.
But a response that deals in linguistics or trauma theory is too emotionally distant given the proximity of the situation. There is a tendency to rush out the professors (left and right, Chomsky and Fukuyama) and initiate debate before the fires stop burning. Now is the time to consider an appropriate emotional response to the attacks.
There appears to be something approaching a consensus (on the internet at least) that what happened was somehow our "fault". "We've" been sucking up to the USA, "We've" been dropping bombs on Iraqi children. The answer to this is, of course, no "we" haven't. I would venture to say that even the individual hands pulling the triggers aren't responsible. In a value system in which everyone is expected to be in a beatific state of "just doing my job" and is subjected to the prevalent moral climates engendered by brand individuality that encourages only the simulacra of debate ("vote for employee of the week! we've put the internet in your restroom!") one's powers of ethical arbitration are wasted somewhat.
It seems that we compensate for this political catatonia (and I wouldn't call it apathy. It's not as if everybody sat down together sometime in 1989 and implemented a mutually agreeable and indefinite period of H&M tailored, Starbucks-scented nonalignment) through guilt- guilty pleasures or guilty feelings. How often do you hear someone say to you "I know it's shit, but I like it..."? In this case, it seems that people are too self-conscious about the ramifications of anger to reach for that particular emotional crutch and henceforth take the burden upon themselves.
I have felt angry. I feel guilty when I observe the actions of our government (and that of the United States) in some of its international affairs. However, I refuse to subscribe to the Guiltianista viewpoint that this country is incapable of contributing positively to the international community. I'm old enough to remember Bosnia and Kosovo, two embroilments that were ethical imperatives despite our dithering and slightly half-assed way of getting involved. I'm also not completely sure that deposing the Taliban was the worst thing we could have done at the time. Once again, the execution of our "regime change" was far more dubious than its guiding imperative.
My main concern is that people don't begin to feel en masse that they brought these events upon themselves. Middle class guilt (international version) is as painful to watch as fish dying. I think that some forum for catharsis (anger and sorrow) has to be tolerated and not condescended as a kneejerk response. Cold intellectualism is an arrogant denial of the self and others.
Everyone knew it was going to happen eventually. The police, government, security services and so on made it incredibly clear that London or another major city would be subjected to a terrorist attack of proportions that anyone below the age of sixty (at least) would be unfamiliar with. We'd watched it happen in several other "major" European capitals: Madrid, Moscow, Istanbul. As the newsreaders say, it was never a question of "whether".
Developing any kind of sophisticated reaction to events that we have, up to this point, been insulated from by the prophylactic effects of the media is obviously going to be the goal for the British chattering classes. Some have a head start- it's not hard to imagine the headlines for yesterday's events being prepared shortly after the bombs at Atocha. The language that people have used to approach the situation in its immediate aftermath has been appropriated wholesale from the politicians and inhabitants of New York. An outsider might almost pick up on a palpable sense of relieved pressure: a reservoir of trauma has been dammed up behind the non-happening of the event which was always expected.
But a response that deals in linguistics or trauma theory is too emotionally distant given the proximity of the situation. There is a tendency to rush out the professors (left and right, Chomsky and Fukuyama) and initiate debate before the fires stop burning. Now is the time to consider an appropriate emotional response to the attacks.
There appears to be something approaching a consensus (on the internet at least) that what happened was somehow our "fault". "We've" been sucking up to the USA, "We've" been dropping bombs on Iraqi children. The answer to this is, of course, no "we" haven't. I would venture to say that even the individual hands pulling the triggers aren't responsible. In a value system in which everyone is expected to be in a beatific state of "just doing my job" and is subjected to the prevalent moral climates engendered by brand individuality that encourages only the simulacra of debate ("vote for employee of the week! we've put the internet in your restroom!") one's powers of ethical arbitration are wasted somewhat.
It seems that we compensate for this political catatonia (and I wouldn't call it apathy. It's not as if everybody sat down together sometime in 1989 and implemented a mutually agreeable and indefinite period of H&M tailored, Starbucks-scented nonalignment) through guilt- guilty pleasures or guilty feelings. How often do you hear someone say to you "I know it's shit, but I like it..."? In this case, it seems that people are too self-conscious about the ramifications of anger to reach for that particular emotional crutch and henceforth take the burden upon themselves.
I have felt angry. I feel guilty when I observe the actions of our government (and that of the United States) in some of its international affairs. However, I refuse to subscribe to the Guiltianista viewpoint that this country is incapable of contributing positively to the international community. I'm old enough to remember Bosnia and Kosovo, two embroilments that were ethical imperatives despite our dithering and slightly half-assed way of getting involved. I'm also not completely sure that deposing the Taliban was the worst thing we could have done at the time. Once again, the execution of our "regime change" was far more dubious than its guiding imperative.
My main concern is that people don't begin to feel en masse that they brought these events upon themselves. Middle class guilt (international version) is as painful to watch as fish dying. I think that some forum for catharsis (anger and sorrow) has to be tolerated and not condescended as a kneejerk response. Cold intellectualism is an arrogant denial of the self and others.
posted by Joe at 2:58 AM
2 comments
