War of Words: Language, Politics and 9/11 (review)

Among the books published on the first anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, War of Words takes a distinctively linguistic and rhetorical approach. It "explores the use of language in developing the public understanding of, and response to, the events that surrounded 9/11" (xii), so its aim, unlike that of many of its shelf-mates, is analytic rather than commemorative. The book provides close readings of instances of public rhetoric after the attacks and examines the terms that a range of rhetors used to describe, explain, and react to these events. As it reexposes readers to widely broadcast speeches, news accounts, advertisements, and documentaries, it seems to ask Americans to listen to themselves frame events and issues and to recognize a tendency to do so in a self-centered, if not self-serving, fashion. As a whole, the book implies that in this time of crisis—a time that may lengthen to an age—American speech betrays a defensiveness and self-interest that international ears hear loud and clear.

Although she suggests it, Dr. Silberstein does not make this claim. The clearest statement of the book's significance is found in the introduction: "In the aftermath of the events of September 11, through public rhetoric, an act of terror became a war, the Bush presidency was ratified, New York became America's city, with Rudy Giuliani as 'mayor of the world.' Patriotism became consumerism, dissent was discouraged, and Americans became students, newly schooled in strategic geography and Islam" (xi). But these observations, which preview the chapters' claims, do not prepare a reader to grasp the meaning of Silberstein's next, more conclusive sentence: "Perhaps most importantly, public language (re)created a national identity" (xi). The character of this (re)new(ed?) identity, however, is never described once the evidence for it has been presented. Instead, the last chapter trails off amid a discussion of documentaries on Islam and the Middle East. The book ends without offering readers an overarching interpretive insight, or even a set of final, resonant questions. The effect of this organization is that the book's argument stops amid its premises. A rush to publication or, perhaps, the reluctance of the author or publisher to put a fine point on unsettling notions may provide an explanation; a reader cannot judge why this choice was made.

Consequently, as a work intended to make the power of linguistic and rhetorical analysis accessible to nonlinguists (xv), the lack of a strong finish seems likely to cause readers to shrug at its last clause: "In post 9/11 America, the public discourse had been transformed" (160). With so ambiguous and tame an end, readers may understandably wonder about the merits of such analysis. How does it help us live our lives? Should readers be especially suspicious of public rhetoric about the key events of the day? Who or what controls transformational power over public discourse? Elected officials, eyewitnesses, opinion leaders, a combination of these and other rhetorical agents? Or is television simply the most influential rhetorical agent in America, and if so, who, really, is that agent? I think most readers would welcome a traditional conclusion that makes a clearer call than is provided on the big issues that arise from Silberstein's analysis.

Aside from the book's disappointing structure, the chapters themselves do good service. First, they bring a number of the memorable rhetorical acts surrounding 9/11 into sharper focus. Readers who watched television after the attacks are encouraged to analytically review President Bush's statements and speeches, the ceremony at the National Cathedral, breaking news coverage of the collapse of the World Trade Center, and the concerts for New York City. The book enables a reflective comparison of readers' memories and emotions about these moments with transcripts and moment-by-moment descriptions of them. This textual reliving of the fall of 2001 may...