My Visit to Ground Zero

In May 2000, I made my first trip to New York City. I was attending a wedding between a Japanese woman and an American man, and the couple had arranged a tour of the city for some of their guests. It was an ideal first time experience, and I was lucky to be a part of it, essentially for free. We did many of the typical tourist excursions -- the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, Little Italy and Chinatown, a boat tour along the skyline. And, we also stopped outside the Twin Towers, just long enough to get out of our shuttle and shoot several photographs. I really had no understanding of what occurred inside those buildings or in the surrounding area. But I did recall the 1993 bombing and knew that the towers had been, at one time, the tallest buildings in the world. Mainly, my recollection of the towers is limited to the one or two images left behind by my point-and-shoot camera: massive, institutional gray structures that blocked the sun and sky, making it seem like night on the street below. Because it was impossible to capture the buildings in their entirety, most of us tried to catch the top of the towers in our lens (see my photo below, from May 9, 2000). Maybe I am wrong, but I also recall sitting or kneeling on the sidewalk out in front in order to get the best view. And then it was time to board the shuttle again with the remainder of the gawkers, most of whom had never been in the city before.

personal photo, taken May 9, 2000

Since 2000, I've returned to NYC three times; however, because I usually spend time in other areas of the city, I had never gone to Ground Zero until a week or so ago. There were several factors that motivated me to visit the area this time around. First, after the memory course I taught last semester, I thought it was essential that I be able to talk about my direct impressions of the site, particularly since several of my students had already visited Ground Zero and the visitors' center. There is no substitute for being there. Waiting until now has also allowed me to have a more informed encounter with the site; I benefited from studying memory and traumatic events for many years prior to my visit, because I was able to observe and evaluate the scene differently than had I gone with say, only the TV images of planes crashing into the buildings. Finally, the fact that the site is under construction also compelled me to see it now, before the new tower goes up. The traumatic landscape is unstable and in the process of being transformed (though perhaps "transformed" is too strong a word because it signals something final, and I mean to indicate more of an evolution).

I made the trip to Ground Zero with a person who grew up just outside the city. At one time, he had worked briefly in Manhattan. He had last visited the site in December 2001, when the area was heavily protected by chain link fences still peppered with photographs of loved ones, letters, poems and other personal items. He experienced 9-11 while living in the Midwest -- actually, in what some call the "buckle of the Bible Belt," a phrase that to me, has always encompassed multiple points on the U.S. map -- and he had felt, early on, that New York's 9-11 had been "co-opted" by the rest of the country. Yes, of couse 9-11 was a national, collective event. But to him, it was as if suddenly, New York mattered in the Midwest. More than just the stereotypical image of rude people, insane taxi drivers and crime, New York suddenly became "ours," with the flood of "United We Stand" and "God Bless America" bumper stickers soon to come, followed by the yellow ribbon car magnets ("Support the Troops"). In other words, where he lived, the experience of 9-11 seemed to become political quicker than elsewhere. Revolting expressions of nationalism had not only (re-)surfaced, but taken over the entire landscape. Everyone's patriotism was questionable. If you didn't have an American flag in your yard, you were probably "the enemy." This was the logical mindset spawned by the "you are either with us or against us" mentality of the post 9-11 world. In his own words, he writes:

it was odd for New York, or at least certain very specific aspects of New York being embraced suddenly as "our America."  New York has always been regarded, especially in the rural midwest, as essentially "foreign" --- in ethnicity, values, politics, etc.  It felt manipulative and disingenuous the way very specific New Yorkers (Cops, Firemen, First Responders, Rudy Giuliani) were suddenly---it seemed---granted temporary status as exemplary Americans.  It was always and without fail these New Yorkers who were celebrated, not the ordinary citizens---not the Hasidic Jews and the Somali cab drivers and the Puerto Rican restaurant workers, etc.

Then came the 2004 GOP Convention in New York, which took this manipulation to new heights.  911 memories and Ground Zero  was a kind of conquered "Red State territory" in the heart of the enemy.

It is difficult to be at Ground Zero and concentrate on the terror of 9-11 without also reflecting on the way 9-11 was used -- and continues to be used -- politically (a perfect recent example is the debate over whether a mosque should be permitted near the site). While the Ground Zero landscape is about the catastrophic loss of human lives, it is subsequently about other wars (Iraq, Afghanistan); about imperialism and capitalism; about religious freedom and (in)tolerance; about memorialization and urban landscapes. My visit to the site was relatively brief -- maybe 15 minutes -- because, truthfully, there is not that much to see, but a lot upon which we can reflect later on.

We took the subway to Ground Zero, and even though my companion thought the stop for the WTC had been eliminated, we later discovered it still exists, but on a different train than the one we were on. Even if we hadn't known which direction to head when getting off the subway, it would have become quickly apparent by the long line of tourists on the sidewalk and an enormous construction site at the end of the street. We bypassed the tourist line, which was gazing at a bronze-colored wall sculpture commemorating "first responders," and stood at the edge of the sidewalk across the street from the construction area.

The first thing I noticed was the amount of people with cameras out. I told my companion, "I feel guilty taking photographs," but at the same time, it seemed a necessary, important thing to do, as long as it was done in a respectful, unobtrusive way. This is the first photo I took:

I am not positive, but I believe that what we are looking at in the center of the photo is the beginning of the new building, "One World Trade Center," which is scheduled to open in 2013. While looking at this site, I was struck by the emptiness of the landscape, and the fact that the sky is visible. When I stood in front of the Twin Towers in 2000, what I recall is the shadow they produced, and the sliver of sky between them. What's interesting is that the view of this traumatic site of memory is also now obstructed by fences and gates and screens of all kinds. I don't know how much of this has to do with security, and how much is just a regular part of safety on any construction job site, but it certainly adds a sense of secrecy to the whole operation, despite the large banners designed to help viewers understand what the site will look like upon completion (see photos 3 and 4).

Photo 1

Photo 2

Photo 3

Photo 4

Although it was important to contemplate the construction site, to take in the cramped quarters of the nearby streets and to imagine what the devastation must have been like, I found it more interesting to turn my gaze to the sidewalk area. I think I may have been anticipating a larger, public memorial on the street. But all that was there was this makeshift memorial:

This memorial, to NYC firefighters lost on 9-11 (see large poster), is also a place for people to leave fire and police uniform insignia from all over the world. The fluorescent uniform item in the lower right-hand corner is that of a police officer from Móstoles, just outside Madrid. If one looks carefully, above this memorial is a handwritten sign taped to a building window:

"Vendors are not allowed to sell near or around firehouse (photos/pamphlets/booklets/etc. Please do not purchase in these areas and report them to police. Thanks."

Just around the corner from the sign above, one finds the Tribute WTC Visitor Center, open 10-6 on most days, with a $10 admission fee. We did not go in. For some reason, to do so felt wrong. I had learned enough on the street outside. Nonetheless, I did pick up a pamphlet, and am intrigued by this description of the center:

Tribute Center Tour Guides are intimately connected to the events of September 11, 2001 as survivors, family members who lost loved ones, rescue workers, civilian volunteers, police, firefighters and Lower Manhattan residents and workers. Guides share their personal experience of loss, healing and survival with a factual description of the events, providing the visitor with an unparalleled opportunity to connect with history firsthand.

I am glad I made this visit to Ground Zero, though I must admit I am in opposition to the construction of a new building at this site. I can understand and respect the argument that sees construction as proof of strength and perseverance in the face of tragedy, as well as what comes "natural" to New York. However, the entire reconstruction process has already been marred by design polemics, and to me, there is something very American about the need to rebuild bigger and better and not just let it be. I do like the plans for the actual memorial, but I am resistant to that new memorial being located alongside more commerce and power. Perhaps, when I view the site in coming years, my impressions will change. Also, I should recognize that my Midwestern upbringing also probably colors my perspective on this site and what ought to be done with it.