It’s hard to identify any real change in the aftermath of September 11

IT was instantly hailed as “the day that changed the world forever”, but as we approach the first anniversary of September 11 and the inevitable saturation of media coverage, a consensus has not yet emerged as to the nature or extent of those changes.

The issue has generated much soul searching regarding the nature and values of contemporary society, America's relationship with rest of the world, how best to respond to the terrorist attacks, the most appropriate way to honour and commemorate the dead, how to rebuild the World Trade Center site but few conclusions have been reached.

In the current issue of Newsweek, some leading American historians are asked how September 11 will rank in history. Joyce Appleby concludes: "It will take its place along with Pearl Harbor, which is to say it will be very vivid in the memory." Alan Brinkley, however, cautions that we need to make a distinction between history and memory.

"In the memory of everyone old enough to have experienced September 11," he argues, "this date will remain one that we will remember for the rest of our lives, just as almost all Americans old enough to do so remember the Kennedy assassination every November 22. But that's not the same as becoming a major event in history. For example, JFK's death is a huge event in memory. It may or may not have been a truly major event in history.

"September 11 is similar. We may not know for years, or decades, whether it truly changed the course of history."

The sense of confusion as to the meaning and significance of September 11 and what the legacy of that tragic day actually is has been reflected in the media coverage thus far as the anniversary approaches. There is not a great deal in the way of detached analysis. Instead, we are offered the personal stories, recollections and insights of countless survivors, rescue workers, volunteers, relatives of the victims and other New York citizens.

This is all very well in itself and can be revealing, but it doesn't add up to a broader understanding of the impact of September 11 and whether it actually has changed the world in which we live, for better or worse.

Thus, one survivor, for example, tells the Observer that New York has become a better place: "Do you hear that, Osama bin Laden? You brought everyone closer together, something we haven't been able to accomplish ourselves." Another says: "Its worse. I'm so afraid of a terrorist attack, I don't want to be anywhere near New York." It is as though the individual responses to the event have come to be the event.

In drawing some wider conclusions about the effects of September 11, it is worth considering first the ways in which it did not change the world as many envisaged a year ago. The manner in which people pulled together in the aftermath of the tragedy gave rise to widespread optimism about a resurgence of community.

New York, a city renowned for hardness, cut-throat individualism and shallow celebrity glitz had suddenly rediscovered the value of public solidarity and collective endeavour. The airwaves were filled with stories of individual sacrifice as firefighters, police officers and medical staff were transformed into national heroes.

As people came out in droves to donate blood, offer money or do whatever they could to help the victims, there was a feeling that out of a terrible tragedy might come something good; that the shocking impact of the September 11 atrocities might prompt society to reassess its values and mores and to re-embrace community.

An outbreak of patriotic fervour led to predictions of a rush of new recruits to the military and a resurgence of the American tradition of volunteerism and civic duty.

George W Bush contended that "many Americans, especially young Americans, are rethinking their career choices. They are being drawn to careers of service as police or firemen, emergency health workers, teachers, counsellors or in the military. And this is good for America."

Churches in the US and elsewhere reported an upsurge in attendance, prompting evangelist Pat Robertson to declare that the terrorist attacks had brought about "one of the greatest spiritual revivals in the history of America".

There were hopes, too, that the terrible events could re-engage an apathetic electorate and help erode its profound cynicism and distrust of government.

In Ireland, meanwhile, we went about appropriating America's tragedy as though New York and Washington were located somewhere just west of the Shannon. All sorts of pompous claims were made about the fallout from September 11, and how it would force Irish society to reassess its motivations and priorities.

One Irish Times writer suggested that after September 11, "The Celtic Tiger may be eclipsed by the Celtic Soul," and that "materialism, long-term planning, conspicuous consumption and Viagra" would give way to "spirituality, living for the moment, spending more on less and Cipro".

As it turned out, most of these prophecies amounted to little more than wishful thinking. The wave of recruits to the military and the emergency services never materialised, while the increase in church attendance was a short-lived phenomenon.

In January, Robert Putnam, the author of Bowling Alone, published the findings of a survey of 500 people to see how their lives had changed in the aftermath of September 11. He found that people were no more likely to join groups or attend public meetings than they were a year previously.

George W Bush's approval ratings remain high, but his image has since been tarnished by conspiracy theories about what he and his administration could have done to prevent the September 11 attacks, while the electorate has been more concerned recently with a raft of corporate scandals than with Bush's deeply confused, make it up as you go along War on Terrorism.

As for Ireland's spiritual renaissance the "Celtic Soul" not much has been heard about it of late, thankfully. As in the United States, Ireland's main churches received a temporary boost in attendance in the immediate aftermath of September 11, before resuming their inexorable slide into irrelevance.

As the death of Prince Diana in Britain, the outbreak of foot and mouth in Ireland and the terrorist attacks in the US all demonstrate, tragedy, bereavement or fear can have the effect of pulling a society together, but it is always fleeting because there is nothing to sustain it in the longer term.

Genuine, lasting forms of social solidarity and civic engagement only emerge in response to shared, positive goals and forward looking visions. They cannot be borne of out singular tragedies or setbacks or manufactured on the basis of a lot of wishful thinking.

On the evening of the first anniversary, NBC will carry a live broadcast of a Concert for America designed to "celebrate some of the good things that have come out of the past year". But it is difficult to discern many positives to have emerged.

The arts are awash with dreary, self-indulgent albums, books and plays that reflect the maudlin post-9/11 atmosphere, while politicians on both sides of the Atlantic have undermined civil liberties by exploiting the real, enduring legacy of September 11 the heightened climate of anxiety and vulnerability.

Far from re-energising society and helping to bring us together, we have become even more gloomy, pessimistic, fearful and introspective.