7: Critical Reflection

Part 2
Option a

Having observed the attacks on the World Trade Centre via television, this prosthetic memory has become part of my personal archive of experience (Landberg 45).  This experience is in part sensory, a prosthetic memory that Landsberg terms an "experiential event" (25-26).  This is reflected in my first blog post where I've described watching the television broadcast and, as my subjectivity was informed, I felt horried, an emotion that induced goosebumps.  Something like a weak form of immersion also took place during this experience; I have detailed how throughout the day clients brought me news updates as the event developed and explained that I thought and prayed about the matter often, feeling guitly when breaking away from solemnity, in order to portray this immersion.

Seeing people who had escaped from the collapsing towers, traumatised and covered in blood, in the six o’clock news further aided my immersion and informed my subjectivity, as evidenced by my description of saddness that “made my eyes prick with tears…”  The fact that my emotions came about due to prosthetic memory and not ‘lived experience’, as was the case for the waiter in one blog post, makes little difference (45).  I have reflected this observation by indicating that both the waiter and myself found the attacks brought forth elements of surrealism: it was like watching a science fiction film. 

This prosthetic memory also structures my subjectivity by positioning me as almost a mourner and a vulnerable person in the face of potential terrorism in the future tense.  Effectively then, this event has influenced my “identity informing process” (33).  Furthermore, this blog reveals my personal history that involves witnessing the event on television, being stirred up emotionally, and feeling inclined to pay tribute is what motivated me in the then-present (2008) tense to visit ground zero.  My prosthetic memory also serves as a base from which to build new, lived-experience memories from: as detailed, I stood at ground zero seeing it as a construction site but feeling it was almost haunted by its history.  Additionally, visiting ground zero with others who had prosthetic memories of 9/11 demonstrates how “mass cultural technologies provide people with a common or collective archive of knowledge” (39).  Reflected in this post is the notion that we are all on the same page, despite being geographically distant from both the event and each other at the time the towers were attacked. 

 

I have described my actions and thoughts at ground zero so that they might read as similar to those one might expect from someone who had ‘real’ memories of the event as part of their personal archive of experience.  This demonstrates how there is no distinction “between ‘real’ and prosthetic memories" (41).  Moreover, empathy also helps explain both my own and my travelling companions’ motivation to go and pay tribute.  I have displayed this empathy by detailing what I imagine life is like for the partners and children of those who died that day, a life very different from my own.

Finally, I’ve further sought to demonstrate how my prosthetic memory informs my relationship to the present tense by detailing how I saw both my suitcase examination, and my possessions being scanned for bomb detection, as measures taken to increase security and surveillance following the attacks.  I have included how questions of safety arise in my mind when considering future travel, thus revealing how my prosthetic memory informs my relationship to the future tense.  As stated, upon booking flights, my past engagement with “commodified images” gives me a sense that, as a passenger, I am vulnerable and reliant on officials to carry out safety checks, factors which demonstrate my new way of engaging with the social world (46).  How my memory has been reconfigured by my subjectivity is also seen in the final blog post.  Here I mention that I used to think that living in the States would be more fulfilling than living here, but that now I take comfort living in geographically distant New Zealand.  I have ended with the same picture of a plane flying into the world trade centre that was used to my first blog post in order to illustrate how my thinking now continues to relate back to my initial experience.

 

Reference:
Landsberg, Alison. "Prosthetic Memory: The Transformation of American Remebrance in the Age of Mass Culture." Prosthetic Memory. New York: Columbia University Press, 2004. 25-48. Print.

6: 29 August 2014

29 August 2014

Raymond and I booked our flights today for our (belated) honeymoon in the States early next year.  We’ll spend the first night in Los Angeles, a week in New York and then six days in San Francisco.  It’s funny; I know that travelling in a plane is statistically safer than travelling in a car, but, like when I flew domestically in the States on September 11 2008, there is always that question lingering in the back of my mind about safety.  Is this the safest destination?  History doesn’t appear to think so, not now that 9/11 is firmly lodged in everyone’s psyche.  And what about Malaysian airline MH370?  That plane still hadn’t been found, so there is no definitive answer regarding weather terrorists had a part to play in that event as well. 

 

 

At times I wonder what it must have been like for those passengers on board planes hijacked by terrorists on 9/11.  How long did it take for them to realise something was seriously wrong?  What was it like for them when the plane descended, angling straight towards a sky scraper?  Was this enough to make them black-out before the plane even made contact?  Much like their loved ones, the rest of the world and myself will never know. 

Really, I don’t know what will happen in the future either, but I continue to view the potential for a massive security breach through the filter of remembering 9/11.  It is funny how my opinion has changed.  When I was in high school I used to fancy the idea of moving to the States to live.  Thanks to pervasive media and the likes of Hollywood, I saw it as a land that had so much more excitement and opportunity than little New Zealand.  Visiting there has told me - in many way - it does, but I’m not so willing to give up my permanent home in New Zealand now.  Being so far away from a country like the US that is often hated upon by other nations at least makes me feel safer.

5: 2 October 2008

2 October 2008

Today I flew from Los Angeles International airport to Minnesota.  After checking in at the airport, I headed to the security check point.  Joining the queue, I watched as other passengers thrust their carry-on luggage onto the conveyor belt and placed their watches and wallets onto trays they could collect on the other side of the scanner.

 

There were two queues of people waiting to go through.  To my surprise, as I reached the front of my queue I was taken to one side and frisked, as was the guy opposite me in the other queue.  I was made to hand over my backpack.  To begin with, I wasn’t sure what the security woman was going to do with it.  Surely if there were sharp or dangerous objects in my bag, they’d be detected as they went through the scanner.  She removed my camera from

my bag and carefully removed it from its zip-up case.  She then wiped the view finder screen with a small square-shaped piece of fabric.  Next, she placed the fabric in a steel machine that had ‘BOMB DETECTION’ engraved on it.  The process did not end there.  Several more objects from my bag were removed, wiped with fabric squares, and then inserted into the bomb detector also.  I could have been agitated, but I knew it wasn’t personal.  Of course ample security measures were in place at airports.  Here marks the line where potential terrorists can be detected.  Though not all passengers were searched the way the young chap and I were – I believe we were chosen at random – people could not be assumed innocent.  History had proven this theory, and now it was up to security (among other officials) to prevent such an occurrence happening again.

4: 11 September 2008

11 September 2008

 

Today I flew from Baltimore to Memphis so I can finally acquaint myself with the birth place of the blues and the home turf of Elvis Presley.  Arriving at my motel room, I opened my suitcase to commence unpacking and found a card lying on top of my belongings. 

 

It turns out my suitcase had been checked by security, not, it would seem, because they had suspicions about its content, but just as a standard safety measure.  Of all days of the year, it isn’t any wonder that people’s bag contents are being examined today.  It is the 11^th of September, the seven year anniversary since the twin towers were attacked and thousands lost their lives.  Naturally security wants to do everything they can to stop such a tragedy like 9/11 occurring again.

3: 28 September 2008

28 September 2008

Tonight Rachel, Ruth, Louise, Josh and I had dinner at TIGF (Thank God It’s Friday) in Time’s Square.  The waiter, noticing our accents and picking we were tourists (Rachel had her camera out – who would have guessed!?), asked us what we’d seen of New York so far.  I mentioned visiting Ground Zero yesterday and the waiter was quick to share his own experience of the day.  Being in Time’s Square, he mentioned seeing the smoke flooding


 into the air and the general sense of fear that gripped the entire city.  Like me, he felt like he was witnessing something out of a Sci Fi movie; it really was quite surreal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2: 27 August 2008

 

27 August 2008

Rachel (England), Ruth (England), Louise (Ireland), Josh (Australia) and I made arrived in New York late last night following our trip down from Long Point Camp in Upstate New York.  We’d been talking on the train about what sites we wanted to see in New York.  Given we only have three days here, so have to be a little selective.  One place we were all keen to visit was ground zero.  Between us, we didn’t know anybody who’d been involved in the event, but we all felt we should pay tribute to those who died or had lost loved ones on that fateful day.  We then spent about half an hour during our walk down to the site talking about where we were when we heard the news back in 2001.

 

It wasn’t anything like what I’d expected.  Where the two sky scrapers used to be there is now a construction site.  But even though it probably looks like many other construction sites, my awareness of its history made it feel a lot more solemn.  My friends and I wandered around on our own, taking our time and silently reflecting.  It did not seem like a time for jovial conversation, or conversation at all really.

 

 Along a wall to one side of the construction site was a plaque tribute to those fire fighters who fought the fire, rescued people and retrieved bodies during the event.  As I studied the images, I could faintly hear inside my mind the sounds from the television broadcast I had viewed back in 2001: the cries of the injured, the wailing of the disorientated and the voices that spoke with tremor as they

recounted the event to reporters.  This, coupled with a sign advising people not to use a bridge on this coming anniversary, made the place seem haunted.

 

There were also some flowers left in memory of those who had died there.  I thought about what it must be like for the partners of the deceased.  This significant loss, caused by a truly disturbing means, must cause them to relive the event every day of their lives.  I wondered if they had any children who were now fatherless, and how different it must be for them growing up without a father.  It is so heart breaking.  It really is…

1: 10 September 2001

Creative exercise: provide your personal perspective on a well-known public event.  Prosthetic memory has been utilised for this exercise.
 

10 September 2001 (NZ time)

8.30am

Unreal.  On my way to the kitchen this morning as I passed the television I saw something I won’t ever forget.  There on the screen before me was the World Trade Centre with its top levels engulfed in flames.  I was initially confused.  What was going on?  Then a plane flew in from the edge of the frame and collided with the second tower.  Horrified I think is the only word to describe how I felt; my skin began to prick and goose bumps spread over my arms. 

 

In a solemn tone, a news reader informed me that two planes had collided with the twin towers, endangering the lives of thousands.  Whilst I knew this was real, at the same time it was hard to believe this was wasn’t a SciFi movie from Hollywood.  How can so much have happened since the time I went to bed last night to the time I got up this morning?

 

4.50pm

The World Trade Centre event became a key topic of conversation in the salon today.  “How devastating”, “Those poor people….”, “Death toll is rising…”, “two more planes crashed…” and similar comments reverberated around the salon as clients flowed in and out of the salon doors.   As the day lingered on and my clients heard more news reports over the radio, I gathered more updates from them on what was happening in New York.  Words like “terrorists”, and “hijacking” were introduced into discussions. I have to admit, I felt guilty on the few occasions that I laughed today, as if doing so meant I was overlooking the suffering of others.  Consequently I prayed at regular intervals for all those who were injured and those who had lost loved ones.  What else could I do?

Inside my head I also quietly wondered if this was a sign the last days were upon us.  An extremist militant group chooses a nation that proclaims to be under God as its victim to attack.  Sure, there are always underlying political reasons, but to me this isn’t simply about flesh and blood, but about that which is unseen. 

 

6.30pm (www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlvM01VbVe8)

The six o’clock news on TV3 provided extended coverage of the site where the two planes collided with the twin towers.  The tower contained 50,000 workers.  Police, fire fighters and military worked tirelessly to bring aid to victims and (no doubt) remove bodies from the rubble. 

The pain in the voices of those who had witnessed the event or who had escaped from the building just in the nick of time made my eyes prick with tears and my throat tighten.  Their lives were changed forever because of the actions of a few.  It sounds selfish, but I’m being to feel glad I live in New Zealand.  Perhaps there are certain benefits to belonging to a small and distant country that doesn’t have the same power in the world that the United States does.


Victims were also given coverage on the news.  One girl didn’t seem to have any idea she was wounded despite being covered in blood.  She relayed to the reporter the details of the moment it happened and how she’d managed to escape from the building.  She was overwhelmed (“what do we do now?”) by the goings on and the fastness of the tragedy.  To her, it didn’t come down to her physical injury.  She didn’t appear to know she was in pain; she seemed to be in shock.  I guess she is one of the lucky ones because she has survived, but I still felt really sorry for her.  If she worked in the building, she probably had colleagues who potentially weren’t so fortunate.