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375 pages, Kindle Edition
Published May 28, 2018
Due to some cosmic coincidence, I started reading The Year Everything Changed: 2001 right after Ottessa Moshfegh’s My Year of Rest and Relaxation, a novel which, as one Goodreads reviewer noted, is “based heavily in our transition from 1990’s affluence and innocence and relative ease, into the early 2000’s height of terrorism and anxiety”.
The year 2001 was a turning point. As the preface for this book points out, “It’s the only year where you can mention a day using only numbers and everyone knows what you mean.”
Phillipa McGuinness also had a deeply personal reason to remember 2001. In January of that year she had a miscarriage, and on New Year’s Eve, 31 December 2001, she buried her son Daniel. A commissioning publisher, McGuinness got the idea for this book many years later, recalling all the times she’d heard people say, “Oh, everything changed since 9/11”, or “Since 2001…” She mused that the as-yet-uncommissioned writer would explore if everything did, in fact, change:
“But remembering Daniel stopped me in my tracks. Jesus, 2001 was the worst year of my life. Did it change everything for me? I didn’t know, but in a moment heart-stopping and exhilarating at once, I resolved to write this 2001 book myself.”
From this starting point, McGuinness provides a month-by-month recap of the key events, both domestic and international, of 2001, weaving in her own experiences during that pivotal year.
The book starts off innocuously enough with an overview of the “fizzer” of the Centenary of Federation, an analysis of then-Prime Minister John Howard’s curious fixation with cricketer Don Bradman, and a quick spin through the technologies which emerged in 2001. As McGuinness notes, “the first few months of 2001 seem part of a different era”.
By May, events start to speed up, as the reader senses the looming shadow of the Twin Towers. In that month, a series of revelations about the sexual abuse of children rocked the Church. McGuinness covers these events — the fallout from which is continuing to this day — then provides a thoughtful discussion of the aftermath of 9/11 as believers and non-believers alike struggled to make sense of the attack.
By August, events are converging even faster, as McGuinness writes:
“We’ve come to the part of 2001 where so much happens that were it a novel, its author would be criticised for over-plotting. Cut out one terrorist attack, one election, one war, one maritime crisis, please, pleads her overwhelmed editor. There are so many villains, where are your heroes? And why don’t you consider a happier ending?”
But much as we’d like to, we can’t rewrite history. McGuinness details Australia’s shameful history of detaining refugees, and the events that led up to “Children Overboard” — “a name that requires mental scare quotes with every utterance” — when Prime Minister Howard falsely claimed that Indonesian asylum-seekers threw their children into the sea. She supplements her extensive research with many interviews which provide some details about these events which weren’t made public at the time, during the bitterly contested 2001 Federal election. (Her interview with John Howard on the “Children Overboard” incident provides a tacit admission so jaw-dropping that I had to re-read it to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood.)
McGuinness argues that the events of August 2001 fundamentally changed “the way we saw ourselves and the way the world saw us back”. She then outlines other present-day changes which flow from that month: the increased politicisation of the military and militarisation of border security, as well as the ongoing fate of a different group of refugees — the hundreds of men, women and children currently housed in “immigration detention facilities” on Manus Island and Nauru. (Hours after I wrote this sentence, a cartoonist at The Guardian’s Australian edition pointed out that there are children of asylum seekers who were born on Nauru and who have lived there their entire lives.)
McGuinness provides a brief account of the 9/11 attacks, including some heartbreaking stories of the heroism displayed on that day, and her own reactions as, six months pregnant, she watched the crisis unfold on her television screen half a world away.
By a quirk of fate, Prime Minister John Howard was in Washington on 11 September 2001. The following day, in what journalist Paul Kelly described as a “masterstroke”, Howard visited the U.S. Congress, receiving a standing ovation. That same day, he invoked the ANZUS Treaty, for the first time in its existence, thus plunging Australia into war with Afghanistan — less than two months before the 2001 Federal election. McGuinness skilfully untangles the complex responses of the West to the attacks, and the motives of the U.S. alliance for going to war.
She devotes much of the next chapter to the Federal election, or more specifically the effect of Australia’s refugee crisis on the outcome, which saw the Liberal party returned to power with an increased majority of 14 seats. As McGuinness puts it, “The Centenary of Federation slogan ‘Australia — it’s what we make it’ was starting to sound like a threat as much as a promise.”
Trying to answer the question posed by the title of her book, McGuinness notes that, while the crawl of news headlines at the bottom of our television screens existed before 9/11, they were only unfurled during emergencies. But now that we live in a permanent emergency, they have never disappeared. Looking back from now to then, she adds:
“If it were accurate, prioritising the most important breaking news, the hysterical ticker running across the bottom of our screens should have run headlines like these, nonstop, through 2001: Planet in crisis. Bush reneges on 1997 Kyoto Protocol, puts world in danger… IPCC report by hundreds of scientists shows climate change is real. Howard… rejects criticism of climate change policy. Bush wins on oil exploration in Arctic National Wildlife Refuge... Great Barrier Reef in peril. One hundred Nobel Laureates sign appeal criticising Bush’s climate change policies. US losing status as a world leader in climate science.”
Perhaps the last word in hindsight should go to Kim Beazley, who served as Australian Ambassador to the United States from 2010 to 2015, and told the author “You can draw a line back from Trump to the world turning politically on its axis in 2001.”
As its title implies, The Year Everything Changed: 2001 is an ambitious book, packed with facts, figures, anecdotes, insights and theories. While it’s extensively researched and documented, its scope makes it, at times, dense. I felt that the book would have been more readable if McGuinness had focused on fewer themes — but then again, 2001 was a momentous year.