Photo by Julien Maculan on Unsplash / Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash
A version of this article was originally published by The Canberra Times.
This Friday will mark the day 25 years ago when time itself appeared to stop dead.
It was as if all extraneous thought and activity was suddenly required to make sense of one imponderable moment.
Rarely had a non-state actor so fully seized the initiative, dictating the stances of nations and the futures of millions. Never had that chilling import been so visible to so many so quickly.
In hindsight, the devastating September 11 attacks on the World Trade Centre in New York and the Pentagon, marked a hardening of hearts, a closing of borders, and a debasement of human rights.
Illegal and ill-advised wars were launched. Backs were turned as "black sites" used torture. Revenge was unleashed. Millions suffered. Through its unbounded evil, al-Qaeda had successfully coaxed the world into a more primitive state, luring a self-assured West into a ceaseless betrayal of its proclaimed values.
As a historic turning point, the Japanese air raid on the US Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbour is comparable but the world only learned of it after the event.
Much of this heinous attack, though, was witnessed live in America and around the world. Crucially, there was no known endpoint during those first traumatised hours, nor in the days and weeks that followed.
That gnawing fear and the graphic images, made it feel personal, relatable.
Like the terrifying glacial avalanche in Nepal-Tibet of August 26, 2026, in which the last hopes of finding survivors have all but disappeared, the colossal terror of "9-11" was leveraged well beyond those trapped in the planes and towers. Indeed, well beyond America itself.
Its unfathomable hatred and incredible success became ingrained thanks to the stunning live coverage as it unfolded.
These two mass-casualty events - one painstakingly contrived, the other an accident - are the unhappy bookends of the 21st century so far.
Respectively, they showcase the righteous immorality of religious savagery, the part played by media of the day, and the awesome untameable power of nature corralled, physics ignored.
Critically, both disasters have been etched into our collective human consciousness because their terrible carnage occurred on camera.
Yet there are fascinating differences too.
In September 2001, the internet was in its infancy. Broadcast media was at the zenith of its power.
September 11 was, in a sense, the last big TV must-see. The last universally shared global event in which whole societies obtained their foundational understanding from a common source - established broadcasters with dedicated newsrooms and accredited journalists.
A French team just happened to be filming a documentary about the New York City Fire Department (FDNY) when the first plane, American Airlines Flight 11, flew low overhead. Already rolling, Jules Naudet raised his camera and caught in crystal focus an act that stunned the world.
By the time another plane ploughed into the South Tower, many news cameras were trained on the stricken complex, the subsequent collapse of which occurred "live" over the shoulders of America's most trusted news anchors.
Even before that piteous crescendo, as the fires raged, news organisations exercised restraint.
First responders at the base of the towers later told of the steady crash of office workers forced to jump to their deaths from the upper floors, choosing to die in free fall rather than be incinerated.
The sounds of their bodies hitting the Perspex-covered forecourt can never be unheard.
Reporters and their organisations actively chose not to report these horrific details out of respect for the loved ones of WTC employees, and for a wider sense of human dignity.
Similarly in those first hours, seasoned network anchors such as Peter Jennings, Tom Brokaw and Dan Rather initially refused to conclude publicly what to most viewers seemed patent - that the disaster would result in thousands of deaths, that it was clearly orchestrated and that there was no hope.
Jennings explained that reporters in such circumstances should only convey what they knew to be verifiably true.
It is worth pondering how this acute sense of "professional responsibility" even in extremis, pervaded reportage despite such horrifying scenes.
A quarter-century on from what the Americans call "9-11", it seems unlikely that such restraint would be exercised, nor that it would matter anyway.
This is the era of unfiltered self-posting via algorithm-enhanced social media. Tests like accuracy, restraint, and the protection of human dignity, seem quaint in a market valuing speed over accuracy and demanding performed certainty over informed patience.
If this deterioration was restricted to the wilds of social media, it would be bad enough, but it is hard to believe mainstream media would hold back speculative and graphic reporting if it were being scooped with every passing minute.
Besides, how would the current occupant of the White House respond to a similar emergency? Almost certainly via Truth Social, straight from the gut, sans advice. More than likely, it would be the president himself extemporising in gory detail about people jumping to their deaths.
The pictures of the violent torrent in the Nepal-Tibet region were not live per se, but many were published immediately, thanks to digital technologies not available in 2001. There's no doubt it elevated the story.
Yet even here, AI fakes abounded, as if the scale of suffering were not enough.
What a world.
Mark Kenny is the Director of the ANU Australian Studies Institute and host of the Democracy Sausage podcast.