The other night my wife and I watched “102 Minutes That Changed America” on the History Channel. It was a rather unique program that took viewers through the chronology of 9/11 as seen in the videos, cell phones, cameras, and calls of various eye witnesses and workers. Edited together without commercials, soundtrack, or credits, it gave a very unique point of view of that rather fateful morning: that of the viewer not previously heard from.
I’m not writing this post to lament the event or discuss the political ramifications of the attacks. Rather, I find myself thinking about the visual nature of that program and its (future) place in history. It is, in some respects, an event twice removed from the actual event. Our knowledge of and memory of it comes not from being there on Manhattan island, but as a viewer watching some local or national news channel. And one view does not constitute complete “knowledge” of an event, but rather one particular point-of-view.
In Impossible Exchange, Jean Baudrillard writes of an event’s meaning in the media-saturated world of televised spectacle:
The singularity of the event, that which is irreducible to its coded transcription and mise-en-scene, that which quite simply makes it an event, is lost. With this we enter the transhistorical or transpolitical realm - the realm where events no longer really take place, precisely by dint of their production and dissemination in ‘real time’; where they disappear into the void of news and information…If we see history as a film (which it has become, whether we like it or not), then the ‘truth’ of information consists in the post-syynchronization, the dubbing and subtitling of the film of history (pp. 132-133).
In and of itself, the program was a rather powerful reminder of that awful day. It gave us pause. But it also reminded me that this is just another set of visual artifacts that gives meaning to an event which is meaningless to some and meaningful to others. It is an event that has meaning to those who were there; they went through the terror and explosions, anxiety and panic. For them, it was “real.” For me, it was meaningless. I was not there, did not hear or see the explosions, and did not feel the panic and anxiety of not knowing what was happening. I was safe behind the warm glow of my Sony television set, far away from the big Apple. I have no meaning for that event. For me, the only realness is that which I see from others. I cannot experience it like native New Yorkers; it is impossible. I believe this is what Baudrillard is getting at in the passage above. Meaning resides in the void between the viewer and the event - we make meaning by what we see, even though it is not real.
Which brings me back to “102 Minutes.” After the program, there was a 20 minute documentary that interviewed some of the people who contributed their video footage. It was amazing to see how many of them felt the urge to pick up a camera and start recording it for the sake of history. It was as if they felt obligated in some way to do what they did. Here is a link to an interview with Evan Fairbanks, one of those videographers.
Some of them were professionals, some of them were just in the wrong place at the right time, and some were merely amateurs. What bound them to this event, and perhaps to pick up their camera, was a desire to understand it - not from the perspective of the media announcer or the cameras high atop another building - but from a human, individual perspective.
We live in a visually mediated society. Images bombard us at a rate that surprises even the most pessimistic of individuals. But how do we really know what it is we see? Is it through our senses, our experiences “here” or “there”? No. Is it through the sheer number of images? No. It is through the lens of another, and edited through a lens of a second party, and shown through the lens of a third party, and so on. History is a film; one we can replay over and over and over again. This film has lost all deep meaning in some way. But in another, it is the person on the street that realizes they must fill in the gaps that history has left behind. ”102 Minutes” is just that type of living history - living rhetoric so to speak.