ABSTRACT

In this chapter I categorize some of the narrative strips from Chapter 4 thematically, demonstrating the connection between speaker and audience made through the use of myth, memory, militarism and the positioning of privileged emotions. Thus, I begin by presenting some additional background on public memory and the cultural myths that underpin the original Bush narrative, and then highlight the narrative features from the soldiers’ stories that resonate with the cultural assumptions underpinning these myths: chosenness, innocence and hero. I also demonstrate the connection between speaker and audience through speech acts embedded in militarism and public memories. Then, I demonstrate the uptake of an association between 9/11 and Iraq. I argue that this association played a significant role in evoking feelings of anger, humiliation and revenge toward not only al Qaeda, but also Saddam Hussein and Iraq. The uptake of this link empowered the Iraq War narrative, feeding it the emotional attachment necessary to make it persuasive. Finally, I establish a relationship between the participants’ narrative patterns and the themes inherent in aspects of revenge and humiliation. Galtung (2007) refers to the importance of a crisis in creating public memories. Where culture, subconsciously (or intuitively), is constituted largely through public memory and myth, it can be revived and brought into the open. He argues that a crisis brings this intuitive culture to the surface where latent myths and memories are suddenly articulated. When a crisis situation results in the surfacing of subconscious cultural assumptions, a narrative emerges that reduces complexity but builds consensus. To be persuasive, the narrative must activate the people’s subconscious cultural assumptions by constituting and reconstituting public memory and myth. The narrative rests on an antecedent condition that is supported by these assumptions (Cobb 2006). It maintains a simplicity nourished by the assumptions, which locate the explanation and the solution in “the way that people are pre-programmed” (Galtung 2007). The crisis, or triggering event of 9/11, demanded a response. President Bush articulated narrative patterns drawing on deep-rooted assumptions that have been a part of the American collective conscious for generations. By anchoring the discourse in these categories the narrative appeals to instinct rather than reason. People “feel” the truth in it; it makes sense although we may not understand

why. “Gut” instinct, or “intestinal” instincts rather than “head” instincts produce awe, fear and polarity (Galtung 2007). In this the narrative was successful. The Bush administration removed complexity from the narrative and relied on the feelings that were aroused without question when our deeply rooted cultural assumptions surfaced. This led more easily to consensus. Images are not simply visual representations but the paradigms or models that shape our perceptions of the world and ourselves and these perceptions ultimately guide us through life (Müller-Fahrenholz). The tragedy of 9/11 evolved through the 9/11-Iraq War narrative patterns as an American “chosen trauma”1 (Volkan 2004). The terrorist attacks of 9/11 were a traumatizing event, but through narrative, the hermeneutical process of transforming this event into “the sole interpretive key for the self-image of an entire nation” (Müller-Fahrenholz 2007: 17) excludes other significant information and experiences about the event. The tragedy of 9/11 anchored the official narrative in America during the eight years of the Bush administration and beyond. This limited our foreign policy options and has become a central point of our national identity. However, perhaps even more than 9/11, our response to this “chosen trauma” determined our national narrative, informed our identity and shaped the reality in which we lived. We decided to engage in two wars. Our myths, public memories and continuous reminders of 9/11 – a new “chosen trauma” – permeated the presenting Bush narrative and clearly resonated with the soldiers here and with the majority of the American public. The mythological frameworks of chosenness, innocence and the superhero often hide humiliation and denial. Myths function beneath the conscious level for most people (Hughes 2004: 8), remaining an invisible but critical part of our cultural self-understanding. Many of these myths surfaced with a vengeance after 9/11 and were instrumental in making the 9/11-Iraq War narrative patterns persuasive. Most scholars would agree that the myth of the chosen is America’s oldest myth, emerging even before the Puritans landed at Plymouth Rock. Eventually a myth of America as a Christian nation would merge with the idea of chosenness and produce much of American civil religion. The 9/11-Iraq narrative patterns rely heavily on this myth and the civil religion it spawned for its resonance with the American public. Simply put, over time this myth has come to mean “God has chosen the American people for special blessings and privileges in the world; or for a special and redeeming role on the stage of world history” (Hughes 2004: 6). H. Richard Niebuhr wrote in 1937: “The old idea of American Christians as a chosen people who had been called to a special task was turned into the notion of a chosen nation especially favored . . . as the nineteenth century went on, the note of divine favoritism was increasingly sounded” (as cited in Hughes 2004: 37-38). Bellah (1992: 37) argues that the myth of chosenness shields Americans from critical self-reflection and responsibility for moral transgressions. Beginning in the first decade of settlement the colonists denied the Native American culture any respect or dignity and denied them the right to land and life. This initial “crime” was followed by a second: slavery. To understand the significance of

chosenness, he asks: “What in the dream of white America kept so many for so long, even to today, from seeing any crime at all? (Bellah 1992). This remains an important question for evaluating the majority acceptance of the simplistic 9/11-Iraq War narrative patterns. The connection that George Washington, first President of the United States, made in his inaugural speech between the American experiment and higher purposes and powers began a long tradition that continues to influence Americans’ perspective of themselves, the world and events such as 9/11 (Müller-Fahrenholz 2007). But, the myth of chosenness contains a particularly pernicious strand of America’s genetic cultural code (Galtung 2007) because of the inherent justification it provides for our sense of power and purpose. It is an “active element [in our] historical script” (Müller-Fahrenholz 2007: 9-11) and our foreign policy commitments. It is used to prepare people psychologically and emotionally for war. It also offers redemption. The myth of Manifest Destiny, part of the greater myth of chosenness, justifies a dualistic perspective of history and events. The “chosen people” stand against those not chosen, which sets up the Manichean distinction between good and evil, inherently humiliates the other (anyone outside the chosen group), assumes innocence and shields us from guilt (MüllerFahrenholz 2007: 16). Chosenness inhibits the ability to see evil within or a need for redemption; instead, evil is projected onto the other (Hughes 2004: 153). Hughes (2004: 8) discerns a myth of innocence that emerged in the twentieth century. He claims this to be the strongest myth and the one without any redemptive value because it is not grounded in a meaningful story but rather selfdelusion. After the terrorists’ attacks of 9/11 this powerful myth resurfaced and runs through the narrative. Although the chosen myth implies innocence, the myth of innocence draws much of its strength from the public memory of the two world wars. Out of the destruction of the two world wars America took on a new aspect of its identity and purpose. The meaning of America itself became “good against evil, right against wrong, democracy against tyranny and virtue against vice” (Hughes 2004: 153). This myth fit in easily with already existing myths and was supported by the clarity of the great evil of WWII. The public memory of WWII evolved from the narrative of good versus evil with America as the virtuous conqueror and indeed, savior of Europe. After WWII America adopted a new mission, which quickly took on a sense of the divine: to spread freedom and democracy throughout the world. The American character of the twentieth century was one of perceived goodness, virtue and innocence (Hughes 2004: 155). A binary construct, based on Manichean distinctions, easily grew from these myths throughout the twentieth century Cold War era. This construct became embedded in American deep culture as assumed “truth” – what “felt right” (Galtung 2007). The myth of innocence is ahistorical as well. Infused with religious sensibilities of millennialism this myth creates the sense of being outside of time. The reality of history is distorted or often ignored entirely because Americans live in the present – a present not informed by history but by myths built upon public

memories. This creates a delusion of a separate, exceptional and perfect world that is innocent among other nations. Once again, this myth prevents Americans from discerning guilt, shame or responsibility. America owes no debt to history and is blind to its complicity in many of the harsh realities that others live around the world. The lack of humility before history and others ironically transforms this myth into its opposite but remains powerful enough for even that to go undetected (Hughes 2004: 163). Part III examines in part the shattering of this myth among many of the soldiers. Guilt, shame, humility and a sense of responsibility break through this psychological fortress, inviting first uncertainty and in turns, degrees of narrative and identity transformation. This myth hurts America: a cultural transformation exposing the prevalent and ironic tendencies of this myth would be a terrible blow to the terrorists. The myth serves their purposes more than our own. Hartsock (1985) argues that crucial links exist between masculinity, heroic action and the making of war. In this construct honor is prized but must be won at the expense of the other’s honor. For the warrior-hero honor is central and embodies a configuration of morally justified violence, wrapped in virtues of masculinity and militarism. It is an essential part of a world in which heroic action can occur. But this world must consist only of abstracted parts so the hero does not consider the enemy a whole person, but instead sees him only in partial terms. When the warrior/hero ethic is called into action, as it was after 9/11, the warrior heroes respond by separating their inner emotions from the self. Emotions become detached so they cannot clear the “clouding of the normal consciousness” (Hartsock 1985). Müller-Fahrenholz (2007: 58) argues that America suffers from a “winnerloser syndrome.” He compares this syndrome, which further contributes to polarized narratives and aggression, to the myth of the American superhero described by R. Jewett and J. Lawrence (as cited in Müller-Fahrenholz 2007: 58-59). This figure redeems threatened communities single-handedly, is selfless and destroys evil. The myth of the lone hero is found throughout popular culture in films such as the lone cowboy in High Noon to heroic presidents acting nearly alone to save the country or even the world, as in Air Force One and Independence Day. This myth follows a particular paradigm: the lines are clear-cut between good and evil. Evil represents the antithesis of democracy, but in order to save democracy, the lone hero must act outside the law. In this narrative, rules are meant to be broken and the hero has the courage and conviction to break them; the heroes “carry the law within themselves, [which] implies that they are always guiltless and innocent” (Müller-Fahrenholz 2007: 62). This illusion of heroic action further supports the myth of innocence and the denial of guilt or shame. It prevents the critical reflection necessary for moral arguments to take place. Once again, evil is found outside – in the other – and the goal of the hero is to rid the community or world of that evil. The myth also reveals why it is so easy for Americans to accept a “chosen” role to act alone on the world stage, allowing unilateral intervention to become the “right thing” to do.