[This article, and Laura Hein’s “Citizens, Foreigners, and the State in the United States and Japan since 9/11” originally appeared in Laura Hein and Daizaburo Yui, Crossed Memories: Perspectives on 9/11 and American Power, Center for Pacific and American Studies, The University of Tokyo, 2003. http://www.cpas.c.u.-tokyo.ac.jp/ The texts have been revised and condensed for Japan Focus.
The articles examine the intertwined Japanese and American responses to the 9/11 attacks from two perspectives. They show the ways in which long-dominant frames of reference in each nation, particularly memories of their conflict during the Pacific War, shaped responses to the shattering events that quickly gave rise to the “War on Terror.” Laura Hein locates the two responses in relation to the ongoing debates in both countries on war, citizenship, and the rights of foreigners, particularly the social movements to secure apology and reparations for victims of Japanese war crimes, and those pressing for multiculturalism and equality. Geoffrey White examines the invocations of Pearl Harbor memory in American responses to 9/11. He then considers the implications of Pearl Harbor (and Pacific War) symbolism for the Bush administration’s global “war on terror.”]
Recent events provide a stark reminder that we live in a global society where major events affect everyone, across borders, regions, and cultures. Yet, despite the intensification of global interconnections effected by worldwide flows of capital and culture, the meanings of September 11 continue to be constructed in sharply nationalist terms. This may be especially so for Americans who were the primary targets of the 2001 attacks, and who generally see them as attacks on the nation (as, indeed, they seem to have been intended). As John Dower has observed, one need only look at the outpouring of patriotic responses to September 11 in the United States, marked by flags, songs, ceremonies, and commentaries (as well as military actions) enunciating national pride and solidarity. (John Dower, in remarks made at a symposium marking the 60th anniversary of Pearl Harbor, observed that these responses reminded him of accounts of Japanese nationalism in the early stages of the Asia-Pacific War.) But the “new” American patriotism being produced in the post-9-11 era frequently invokes earlier forms of patriotism, especially in images of World War II, the “good war.” Here I reflect on the role of memories of the bombing of Pearl Harbor in (re)producing American patriotism in the 9-11 era, focusing particularly on cultural practices of remembrance.
It will be obvious to anyone who has viewed American media coverage of 9-11 and the subsequent “war on terror” that these events have given rise to a resurgent patriotism in the U.S. not seen since World War II (In this paper I use the American name for the war, “World War II.”). Even in Hawai‘i, far from the mainland United States, houses along the streets of most neighborhoods routinely display American flags; stores sell flags, pins, and banners; and cars everywhere sport bumper stickers proclaiming national pride and unity. Whether swept up in this renewed patriotism, or worried by the concomitant rise of racism and unchecked militarism, nearly everyone has been affected.
How it is that such distinctly national meanings are produced in the face of intensifying globalization? In addressing this question I focus on memorial practices as one means of and for (re)imagining national communities. I am particularly interested in the manner in which memorial practices articulate personal narratives (of sacrifice or suffering) with larger histories of the state. Of all the kinds of histories that nations construct of themselves, histories and memories of war are among the most effective ways of imagining national community and reproducing visions of a shared past. Histories (and memories) do not just happen. They are told, written, filmed, and otherwise represented for specific times, places, and audiences. In other words, histories and memories are mediated—mediated by cultural ways of telling stories and by the people who tell them. Attention to the constructed nature of history has led to an increasing amount of writing on historical memory—on the ways that people and societies remember significant events. To the extent that the term “memory” refers to the meaning of events rather than the events themselves, then this paper is primarily concerned with memory—with the (re)production of September 11 as part of the American past, however contested. I make this point in order to be clear that my purpose in exploring the ways people draw parallels between Pearl Harbor and September 11 is not to confirm or disconfirm the historical basis for these comparisons, but to ask what they tell us about the ongoing nationalization of history and memory of the September 11 attacks. (In this paper I focus primarily on representations of the World Trade Center attacks; although a fuller analysis would include the attack on the Pentagon and the crash of United flight 93.)
How, then, are September 11 and its aftermath represented as a distinctly American story? In pondering this question I want to focus on the role of narratives of World War II, and of Pearl Harbor in particular, in framing the meanings of September 11 and the subsequent “war on terror.” Since we have now had sixty years of remembering the Pacific War, we may also ask what we have learned about war remembrance that may help us better understand the meanings of 9-11 now emerging in American public culture. As September 11 is memorialized and institutionalized in public discourse of all kinds, its significance is becoming solidified for generations to come.
For Americans, the events of September 11 are a human catastrophe of a sort not seen since World War II. It is not surprising, then, that in the United States images and stories of World War II have been invoked repeatedly to give meaning to September 11, to understand events that otherwise seem to defy comprehension. Given that histories of war are almost always intensely national in character, appropriations of World War II imagery for the purpose of representing September 11 have the effect of further nationalizing understandings of this most recent epoch of violence. I explore these influences first by examining invocations of the Pacific War in representations of September 11, focusing on Pearl Harbor, the World War II event most frequently linked to 9-11. I then ask how practices of war remembrance, especially memorial practices honoring the dead, work to give September 11 its distinctly national character in American consciousness. And just as World War II memory is shaping understandings of September 11, so September 11 has had a profound effect on the ways Americans view World War II—a history that has continued to evolve and transform during the last 60 years. This paper reflects on the ongoing transformation of American memories of Pearl Harbor in the post 9-11 era.
It may seem obvious to say that much of the emotional power of representations of Pearl Harbor and September 11 derives from the fact that, at base, both are concerned with memorializing the dead. Both Pearl Harbor and September 11 are about the sudden, violent death of thousands of people. As such they are not only recalled as history, as abstract, if important events, but they are marked with ceremonies to remember people who died a violent death–by those who survived, by loved ones, and by fellow citizens drawn into the story through imaginations and identification. In this paper I discuss practices of memorialization emerging with September 11.
Invoking Pearl Harbor after September 11
Historians have long noted a certain asymmetry in American and Japanese remembrances of the Pacific War. Whereas Americans have devoted extensive resources to remembering Pearl Harbor, the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki remain problematic, marginal memories (Lifton 1995). In Japan, where war memories in general are more ambivalent and contested than in the U.S., the atomic bombings are, for obvious reasons, a larger focus of national interest. Whereas the official center of American memory of Pearl Harbor is centered on the national monument and shrine constructed over the sunken battleship USS Arizona, efforts to mount even a temporary exhibit of the atomic bombings at the Smithsonian Institution 1995 resulted in deep controversy and cancellation of the exhibit (Linenthal and Engelhardt 1996).
Given this background, it should not be surprising that Pearl Harbor quickly became a reference point for American interpretations of September 11, and that Hiroshima and Nagasaki have been notable absences (despite the appropriation of the phrase “ground zero” to refer to the site of destruction at the World Trade Center). Even though the reasons for comparing September 11 to Pearl Harbor may seem obvious to Americans, the absence of reference to the atomic bombings is also notable given that the scene of urban devastation around the World Trade Center site is referred to as “ground zero,” a term associated with the original testing of atomic bombs at Los Alamos during World War II. Furthermore, both events involved massive civilian casualties from attacks unimaginable prior to the event.
These comparisons have been contested on the obvious grounds that Pearl Harbor was a military strike on a military target. For example, Gary N. Suzukawa voiced these sentiments in a letter to the Honolulu Advertiser immediately after the 9-11 attacks (September 18, p. A-13):
“No comparison to Pearl Harbor”
As an American of Japanese ancestry, I take strong exception to those in the news media comparing the cowardly attack on the World Trade Center to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.
Last Tuesday is far and away much, much worse for all Americans. The attack on Pearl Harbor was a military strike against a military target. Despicable, sneaky, call it what you will, but the attack on Pearl Harbor is not in the same ballpark. . . .
Noam Chomsky has challenged the comparison by noting the erasure of American imperialism implied by references to Hawai‘i as the United States. In a published interview about September 11, Chomsky commented, “For the United States, this is the first time since the War of 1812 that the national territory has been under attack, or even threatened. Many commentators brought up a Pearl Harbor analogy, but that is misleading. On December 7, 1941, military bases in two U.S. colonies were attacked—not the national territory, which was never threatened. The U.S. preferred to call Hawaii a “territory,” but it was in effect a colony.”(2002: 11-12).
Yet many others have drawn comparisons that play upon cultural and psychological meanings as well as visual and narrative similarities of the two events (as opposed to any kind of comprehensive historical accounts). For a country that had been in the privileged position of never witnessing the destructive effects of modern warfare on its own soil, both Pearl Harbor and 9-11 stand out as attacks at “home” that caused sudden, massive casualties and led to protracted war. These similarities, it seems, were enough to compel comparisons from the first moments following the September 11 attacks. References to Pearl Harbor were immediate and widespread in news reporting on the attacks. On the one hand, the sheer scale of death and destruction was enough to evoke comparisons, regardless of the nature of the attacks. Television news anchor Tom Brokaw, reporting that day on NBC, said “This was the most serious attack on the United States since Pearl Harbor” (www.abcnews.com/wire/US/ap20010911_1453.html). Senators and members of Congress joined in: Senator John Warner of Virginia referred to “our second Pearl Harbor,” Senator Hagel of Nebraska called the attacks “this generation’s Pearl Harbor” (Honolulu Advertiser, September 12, 2001, A-1). And it was not only Americans who made the analogy. CNN reported that the External Relations Commissioner for the European Union, Chris Patten “compared the attack with that deployed by the Japanese at the U.S. naval base Pearl Harbor in 1941,” quoting him to say, “This is one of those few days in life that one can actually say will change everything.” (www.cnn.com/2001/WORLD/europe/09/11/trade.centre.reaction).
USA Today ran its account of the attacks under the front-page headline: “America recovering from ‘the second Pearl Harbor‘” (Honolulu Advertiser Sept 12, 2001, A-1). Indicative of other echoes of Pearl Harbor in 9-11 reporting, the term “infamy” or “day of infamy” also appeared in many accounts, redeploying the phrase first used by Franklin Roosevelt in his declaration of war speech the day after Pearl Harbor (when his reference was actually “date that will live in infamy”). Time magazine titled its special issue on the attacks simply, “Day of Infamy”. The Honolulu Advertiser’s headline story the day after already referred to Pearl Harbor as “the other day of infamy” (“Surprise act of war invokes specter of other day of infamy” September 12, 2001, A-1).
But at this early stage, media commentators and ordinary people groped to find ways to make sense of these events. Americans felt they were at war, but did not know with whom. Even calling the attack and its aftermath “war” stretches the usual meanings of “war” in which known combatants face each other on battlefields. In the weeks and months following September 11, national ceremonies of remembrance became important occasions for representing the 9-11 attacks in the framework of the nation’s history of warfare. In these contexts, references to Pearl Harbor proved especially useful as symbolic linkages between the still nebulous and contested “war on terror” and World War II, America’s “good war” (Terkel 1984). References to Pearl Harbor and World War II attempt to interpret unimaginable events in terms of familiar models, known historical patterns.
2001 was also the 60th anniversary year of Pearl Harbor, commemorated just three months after September 11. At that time the Honolulu Advertiser ran a series of articles comparing the two events. The headline “Two Defining Moments, One Common Resolve” appeared over a photographic collage juxtaposing the wreckage of the WTC with the wrecked hulk of the USS Arizona (with the dates Dec 7 – Sept 11 superimposed). Even as the parallel was becoming routinized through this kind of media representation, commentary continued to describe the comparison as problematic. In an article accompanying the headline about “two defining moments,” editorial writer John Griffin wrote that, “Certainly the 9/11 attacks should not be called “a new Pearl Harbor,” because the differences in methods and civilian slaughter need to be emphasized.” (Honolulu Advertiser, December 1, 2001, B1). Having noted this qualification, however, Griffin went on to derive “some common lessons and cautions from the two tragedies,” noting that both events ended a period of “isolationism” and concluding that “Maybe we can even coin some new slogan for the ages: ‘Remember Pearl Harbor. Remember Sept. 11’. For they are related.” (B4)
But, like Griffin, other writers noted that comparisons with Pearl Harbor were partial and inadequate at best:
Even if Sept. 11, 2001, was not our deadliest day, it was surely our worst. Americans talked of “a second Pearl Harbor” and “an act of war,” but the comparisons faltered.
This time it was civilians dying in the nation’s political and financial centers, not soldiers and sailors in a distant Pacific territory. This time the targets were not outdated battleships, but buildings familiar to every schoolchild.
And if this really was war — 86 percent of Americans in a USA Today/CNN/Gallup Poll Tuesday said it was — who was the enemy? What did he want? When was the next battle? (Honolulu Advertiser, September 12, 2001, A-1).
I want to suggest two factors that contribute to the perception of parallels between these events. In both cases (1) visual images condense the significance of the larger events in single, stark moments of destruction, and (2) narratives of war represent complex events in simple story-lines of: surprise attack, catastrophic destruction, and collective national response (unity in the face of attack). On the one hand, visual images condense stories in often striking, memorable images. And other, more discursive forms of narrative expand the social and moral meanings of those images through storytelling of all kinds.
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