Question:
Judith Butler writes that “[if] certain lives do not qualify as lives or are, from the start, not conceivable as lives within certain epistemological frames, then these lives are never lived nor lost in the full sense”. Can you apply Butler’s thinking (in this representative quote, or in the chapter more broadly) to current events including–or beyond–the war on terror?
Hello everyone.
Today, during our ASTU class, Professor Luger brought up the surge in poems to commemorate the dead in the aftermath of the tragedy of 9/11 and provided us with two interesting poems. One, Photograph from September 11, by Polish Nobel Laurate Wislawa Szymborska, interested me the most, as it was referring to several photographs of people jumping out of windows from the World Trade Centres moments before their collapse, one of which was ‘The Falling Man’, which was subsequently censored by the press and by society until years later. In ASTU, we discussed scholar Judith Butler and how ‘[if] certain lives do not qualify as lives or are, from the start, not conceivable as lives within certain epistemological frames, then these lives are never lived nor lost in the full sense’. Today, I would like to put Butler’s quote, and general ideas in the chapter in her book Frames of War into the context of ‘The Falling Man’, and explore the various aspects why this picture, as a ‘technology of memory’, as first raised by Communications Scholar Marita Sturken in Tangled Memories, a text that we have studied in ASTU, could be rejected by society and people alike, and be forgotten as lives that have been lost in that particular sense.
One of the reasons why ‘The Falling Man’ is controversial is that the photograph, the portrayal of a person committing suicide, is deemed too graphic as a memory. However, I believe this type of depiction, graphic or not, has every reason to be constituted as a technology of memory, as it delivers a certain portrayal and aspect of the event that is known to be 9/11. In my opinion, 9/11 is important not only in the sense in that it was a catastrophic incident that made Americans perceive their vulnerability in the face of the threats of terrorism at home, and perpetrated important concepts such as ‘homeland security’, and the ‘war against terror’. It was significant because of the impact that it brought to the world, due to the significant importance that the United States plays in the economy, security, and stability of the world, as shown in the role of both the World Trade Centre and New York, along with the quick spread of information through the media because of this, which results in the specific memories that we remember when thinking of 9/11. Sturken in Tangled Memories, notes how things like ‘camera images, whether photographs, films, or television footage’, are ‘perceived to embody memory’, and would ‘entangle with personal and cultural memory’, specifically noting how the media make people ‘perceive themselves to be participants in the nation’, which was ‘enacted’ through things such as live television, which was eventually covered in her cases such as that in the Persian Gulf War, where live television played an important role in the narration and memory of the events that transpired. Similarly, I strongly believe the same can apply to 9/11, as the increased focus on sensationalism by the media, allowed a significant flow of information, most often more or less real-time, by live televisions and photographs, into the personal and cultural memory of the public. The public, as an audience, and their memory, more or less plays a significant role in solidifying what they have witnessed through the media into their concepts of memory.
Yet, if we acknowledge that ‘The Falling Man’ is an undeniable instrument that constitutes a fragment of our memories of 9/11, why would it be rejected by society as a memory in itself?
I believe the reason why this is the case, is in that ‘The Falling Man’ simply does not fit in with the narrative that the United States and the people of the lost ones would like to find themselves having in relation to their memories of 9/11. To me, ‘The Falling Man’ continues to serve as a reminder of how fragile memories continue to be, Sturken mentioned how memories have been created ‘in tandem with forgetting’, and how this ‘forgetting of the past’ is often ‘highly organized and strategic’, in which Sturken explicitly mentions, is a way to forget events that are ‘too painful’ to be kept in ‘active memory’ whilst creating a certain historical narrative. The reason why ‘The Falling Man’ was actively forgotten not only through censorship within the press, but also by individual family members, I believe, is not only due to the incompatibility of the narrative that ‘The Falling Man’ brings in relation to the heroism as often presented in the narration of what transpired in 9/11, but also due to the unwillingness of individuals such as family members who may have lost people in 9/11 to believe in something which is to the contrary of the beliefs, attitudes and personalities brought by the memories of their lost ones. Thus, I believe that ‘The Falling Man’, in a way, presents a perfect example of Sturken’s concept of ‘strategic forgetting’, not only on the national and societal level, as Tangled Memories suggested, but also on the individual and personal levels.
Thus, as a result, ‘The Falling Man’ inadvertantly becomes a memory that has been selectively forgotten by the general public, and to a certain extent, I believe that a lot of memories and interpretations of memories of 9/11 have more often than not focused on the heroism portrayed by the fire department in New York, or the helplessness of victims trapped in the buildings when the World Trade Centres collapsed in 9/11. In a way, even in a memory as significant as the 9/11 attacks, certain lives were evidently placed over some other lives. Lives such as those in ‘The Falling Man’ are forgotten or ignored through censorship because such lives were in a way, viewed as ‘ the others’, because they didn’t fit in the narrative that they were as brave as the firefighters who gave their lives in 9/11, that they didn’t stick to certain religious beliefs by taking the initiative in taking their own lives. This, to an extent, certainly fits well into the aforementioned quote by Judith Butler in Frames of War. By rejecting ‘The Falling Man’ as a legitimate life lost, and a memory to be worth remembering, the lives lost would no longer be ‘conceivable as lives within certain epistemological frames’, and thus are never ‘fully lived’ in the view of the American public and family members.
Similarly, the case also fits into the case of conscientious objectors in the United States and other countries in times of war. Despite their suffering under pressure from their respective governments, these lives are also under threat and forgotten in the general scope of memories of those respective conflicts, because such people fail to fit within the narrative and perceptions that the state would prefer when portraying conflicts such as World War I and the Vietnam War. These people are seen as ‘cowards’ rather than legitimate lives with legitimate personal beliefs, and are thus, forgotten in memory, and are also dehumanised in the process of memory. War is never just a physical conflict against people whom we perceive to be enemies, it is also a mental and moral conflict against people amongst ourselves, people amongst ourselves whom we may perceive to be enemies because of their differences.
Therefore, unless controversial photographs such as ‘The Falling Man’ are not selectively forgotten, censored by both society and people, and unless people, when going through memories such as ‘The Falling Man’ try to think of those lives to be as human as themselves, and that it is just as human to choose to take one’s life as it is to sacrifice one’s life in saving others, or to stick to one’s beliefs to the very end, we ultimately risk disqualifying certain lives from being ones that are worth remembering, and risk dehumanising them through the censorship and selective forgetting of memory.