A beginning is that which does not itself follow anything by causal necessity, but after which something naturally is or comes to be. (Aristotle 1902, 31)
As Holland and Jarvis (2014, 194–195) effectively argue, “9/11” came to be near universally adopted following a “sustained attempt” by the Bush administration soon after the attacks “to construct the date of 11 September 2001 as a marker of crisis and historical discontinuity.”1 From George W. Bush’s assertion that “night fell on a different world” (quoted in Holland and Jarvis 2014, 194) to then-Vice President Dick Cheney’s characterisation of that day as “a day like no other we have ever experienced” (quoted in Jarvis 2008, 246), the administration successfully called upon the US public and beyond to mark the memory as a fundamental break not only in the life of the United States as a nation, or in international politics more broadly, but in their own lives. As noted by Maja Zeyfuss (2003, 514), when Bush told his public that “each of us will remember what happened that day”, what he was saying was “nothing as it was before” (ibid., 525). Thus, “[b]efore anyone really had time to think about what it all means, about what, if anything, we should do, September 11 had already been turned into a symbol, into a watershed” (ibid.). US administration officials, relayed by other political figures across the world, “inserted a politically driven narrative” into the “void of meaning” (Jackson 2005, 31) that immediately succeeded the attacks so that “9/11” would become “known as a horrible defining date in history” (Baker quoted in Jackson 2005, 33).
This had several functions. Importantly, and in line with Aristotle’s understanding of the functions of a beginning in a narrative, “9/11” was turned into “the root, the cause, the origin” (Zeyfuss 2003, 520) – a cause that crucially was uncaused. In this narrative,2 any relationship between previous US policies and the attacks was eliminated, making “9/11” a simple act of evil whose perpetrators needed to be destroyed:
It was as if nothing had ever happened before … In other words, the events of September 11 are the ‘cause’ of its policies today. We may not, however, ask how we got there lest we be disrespectful of the dead. (Zeyfuss 2003, 520)
This construction allowed the US administration to delegitimise any questioning or even reference to the decades of violent US policy in the Middle East and elsewhere. They were irrelevant, as they had not caused the attacks, and mentioning them became an unpatriotic attempt to justify these callous acts (see also Jackson 2005).
Importantly, this watershed narrative was extremely effective in both legitimising the actions of states domestically and internationally, and in delegitimising dissenting voices. Jackson (2005) argues that the “war on terror” was written as the only natural and just response to the attacks: “[o]ne of the purposes of constructing a myth of exceptional grievance is to divest the nation of the moral responsibility for counter-violence” (ibid., 36). On the other hand, alternative non-violent responses were delegitimised. As George W. Bush (quoted in Toros 2012, 163) said in 2003, “the only way to deal with these people is to bring them to justice. You can’t talk to them, you can’t negotiate with them.” Thus, the “9/11” narrative as a moment of temporal rupture sustained policies of violent counter-terrorism the world over and undermined those working toward non-violent responses. Furthermore, this narrative not only dominated political circles but was also adopted by mainstream terrorism and security studies. To quote but a few, Hoffman (2006, 22), one of the most cited terrorism scholars, speaks of the “chain of events that began on 9/11”; Wilkinson (2011, 9), in his later edition of Terrorism vs Democracy: The Liberal State Response, writes that “the 9/11 suicide hijacking attacks … had a colossal effect not only on US foreign and security policy and public opinion. They had a major influence on international relations, the US and international economy and on the patterns of conflict in the Middle East.”
Many of the arguments on the political implications of the “9/11” narrative as a moment of temporal rupture have thus already been made. Here, however, I wish to argue that the overall effect of the “9/11” temporal narrative and of its near universal adoption was an extension of US hegemony over world time. To support this argument, it is useful to draw on historiographical work on how the establishment of eras and chronologies has historically been a means to extend sovereign power over other territories. Masayuki Sato’s (1991, 290) analysis of East Asian chronologies and the establishment of eras linked to new dynasties stresses how the adoption by other states of the new era name represented the extension of sovereign power:
It became normal practice in international relations that a country under the suzerainty of another country should use the era name of the suzerain country. This shows that an era name was a mirror reflecting the realities themselves, going beyond the sphere of symbol. (Sato 1991, 290)
In another example, the near universal adoption of the Christian Gregorian calendar with the fundamental rupture built around the birth of Jesus Christ can be seen as part of Christian and Western hegemonic extension (Sato 1991; Mazrui 2001). For Ali Mazrui (2001, 15), it is a sign that “an informal cultural empire is born, hegemony triumphant”:
Many countries in Africa and Asia have adopted wholesale the Western Christian calendar as their own. They celebrate their independence day according to the Christian calendar, and write their own history according to Gregorian years, using distinctions such as before or after Christ. Some Muslim countries even recognize Sunday as the day of rest instead of Friday. In some cultures, the entire Islamic historiography has been reperiodized according to the Christian calendar instead of the Hijjra.
Indeed, very few countries have not adopted the BC/AD or BCE/CE time frame, such as Iran and Saudi Arabia, which can be seen as much as an insistence in maintaining their cultural and religious heritage as a rejection of Western hegemony over their time.
Similarly, one can argue that the establishment and spread of the “9/11” era – best represented by the common use of “pre-” and “post-9/11” – is a discursively hegemonic move that extends US sovereignty over time frames outside the United States. Thus, “9/11” was not only a turning point for the United States, but a global one. Examples of this can be found in government statements the world over. Manuel Valls, then French interior minister, noted in a key speech on the reform of the French intelligence services that they had to keep their focus on the terrorism threat, beginning a list of attacks that “remain in the collective memory” with the 11 September 2001 attacks,3 disregarding attacks by al Qaeda in Paris in 1996. The key UK counterterrorism CONTEST (2011, 15) strategy document concludes its Executive Summary by stating that “[i]nternational counter-terrorism work since 9/11 has made considerable progress in reducing the threats we face” – forgetting the decades of British counterterrorism work in Northern Ireland. From 2001 to 2006, 14 African countries passed counterterrorism legislation in what is seen as a “largely externally-driven” (Knudsen 2015) push by the United Nations Counter-Terrorism Committee and donor governments following “United Nations Security Council adopted Resolution 1373 calling on member states to become party to all relevant international conventions on terrorism and to enact the necessary domestic legislation to enforce these agreements” (Whitaker 2007, 1018). Even the prime minister of the small island state of Barbados, with an extremely low terrorism threat, spoke of the need to devise a growth strategy in the “post 9/11” world.4
Thus, I argue that the narrative of “9/11” as a moment of temporal rupture does more than legitimise violent counterterrorism policies and legislation, delegitimise non-violent responses such as negotiation and dialogue, and silence dissenting voices. It ...