9/11, a quarter century on

It was an awful event at the time, and it has become clear since that 9/11 acts as some kind of dividing line between one era and the next. It's 25 years later and it feels like it's as hard as ever to navigate the aftermath.

I have been blogging long enough that my first post about 9/11 was 20 years ago, on the 5 year anniversary. I visited Ground Zero in 2007. And in 2009 I blogged about the conspiracy theories that had grown about it. 

A few nights ago I was talking politics with a friend and we reminisced about how optimistic things seemed in the late 90s when "New Labour" were elected. The stale Conservative government was swept away in a landslide led by Tony Blair. A few months prior to 9/11 and Labour had been re-elected for a new term in government. 

9/11 derailed that optimism. It blew the lid off New Labour when, a year later, the UK joined in the invasion of Iraq. That was followed by joining in the military operation in Afghanistan. It all got very messy and it feels like the ultimate outcome hasn't helped make the world much safer.

I'm now so old, I can read posts on Reddit from grown adults asking what it was like to see the Twin Towers fall, in the same way I would ask my parents about Martin Luther King or Beatlemania. Anything that happened before you were born lives in the realm of myth and make believe. But it's a small shock when you realise your own history is now pre-history for a great wodge of the population. 

The sad thing about those posts, and the replies that they elicit, is the sense of what we have lost. A feeling of hopeful change and progress got buried in the rubble of the World Trade Centre. Our governments defaulted to war mode. Culturally we embraced a threat mindset, which we are seeing now in extremis in rhetoric about being invaded. Conspiracism has thrived and mistrust is common currency.

That fear burden is one of the legacies of 9/11; the impact of terrorism is to spread terror. And it has been very effective. So many people seem perma-scared now, often of things that, rationally, have zero impact on them. 

Somehow, we need to find a way to mourn the losses of 9/11, without letting terror dominate our lives. 

Working class zero

Went to Starbucks this morning to meet someone. When I got back, Cathy asked me what I'd had.

"Grande Latte with an extra shot of expresso," I said. "Do I sound like a class traitor saying that?"

"Yes," she said encouragingly, "you do."

Class is a funny thing. My parents are very aware of their 'status'. They came from working class backgrounds and both went to university when it was the preserve of the well-off. I don't know whether they're consciously aware of it, but the way they talk about us being a 'doctor's family' shows a bit of insecurity about their status, which I'm sure is linked to being made to feel slightly inferior at university.

A comedy example, which has gone down in the annals of our family is when we were eating toegther once and mum said in all seriousness: "I'm not sure many doctor's families eat meals based around the humble sausage." The 'humble sausage' has entered our family vernacular now, if the conversation is veering towards being classist.

I guess I'm just lucky that for my generation the class system has slowly faded. True there is still a stigma attached to coming from certain places, and it's a tremendous advantage to have a good education, but generally there are more opportunities to advance on merit, rather than on who your father was.

But there is still a division between the working poor and the working wealthy. It's a different type of work for a start. I'm acutely aware, living where I do and mixing with the people I mix with, that my job is indoors and involves no heavy lifting. And we're relatively comfortable and secure, even in worrying economic times like this. But I have done my stint in Minimum Wage Hell and I can tell you that those who are stuck there aren't having it easy.

The thing is, with the exception of going to football matches before that became an acceptable thing in polite society, we were a very middle class family when I grew up. You can tell that by the expectations of my parents that me and my brother would both go to university, and in fact, that was what we both planned to do from very early on.

I can't deny my middle class upbringing, and nor would I want to. That's me and I can't help that. But I have always recognised my ancestral roots among the working class. My one grandad was a baker. My other was a miner, then a rail ganger. Both my grandmas worked in retail. I think there's a certain dignity in that - working hard to provide for your family; to see them take advantage of the opportunities offered to them as the universities opened up to the working class.

I guess my deep antagonism (hatred?) for Tony Blair stems from my deep-rooted conviction that in many respects he was a class traitor. True, he wasn't from a working-class background as far as I can tell, but those who supported him were. The unions, and the long-time Labour voters who stuck with his party when it was suicidally unelectable, have been ill-served by a Labour government.

True there have been more working class students than ever before, but their advantages have been cancelled out by apalling levels of student debt. And those families where a baker or a rail ganger are trying to put bread on the table and shoes on their children's feet, seem to be struggling to make ends meet, pay the rent or mortgage, and keep a car on the road. There is now a minimum wage, but we still have to have a tax credit system and benefits for working families, so obviously the minimum wage is below the minimum levels families need.

Blair might not have betrayed his own class (the middle class) to the same extent. But the people who looked to him as a saviour of the working man have discovered he wasn't a messiah after all. If Labour get horrifically trounced at the next election, and the odds are they will, then frankly the only people they will be able to blame are themselves. When you betray people's trust, you can't be surprised when they don't trust you any more.