Introduction

In the post-9/11 world, Los Angeles (LA) and Melbourne are not so different. What is more, it is likely that LA and Melbourne are not the only cities filled with people enduring the threat of terrorism. It is perhaps easy to understand the heightened threat of terrorism in New York, Washington DC, Madrid and London but it is less clear why distant cities such as LA and Melbourne experience such significant consequences as a result of terrorism. The city represents a central location, a social and cultural interface, and a workers’ oasis that emerges on the skyline during the morning commute that millions undertake each day. The 9/11 terrorist attacks on the Twin Towers and the Pentagon, the 3/11 attacks on the Madrid rail network and the 7/7 attacks on the public transport network in London put people living and working in cities throughout the world on notice. But perhaps those LA folk could be equally justified in their fears and anxieties – it was believed on 9/11 that a plane was en route to LA and the city was also the focus for a planned attack that never took place on the millennium New Year’s Eve. But don’t try telling some Melburnians that terrorism is less likely in Melbourne than it is in LA. Whilst many Melburnians would perhaps agree with this threat assessment, I suggest that people worried about terrorism don’t think in terms of probabilities.

In this chapter I situate, locate and emplace the threat of terrorism and its consequences for working people and businesses in the city of Melbourne. I locate Melbourne as a city like any other around the world and despite Melbourne never being a theatre for devastating act of terrorism, nor is Melbourne close to any city or region that has, its inhabitants hold a ‘general assumption’ that terrorism will occur before too long (Michaelsen, 2005: 330). Following even a casual examination of the Australian media, it is not difficult to see why. In particular, the Melbourne media during times of terror accentuated the threat of terrorism by delivering a heady blend of ‘opiniotainment’ and exaggerated danger. It is this media and the city-dwellers that bear witness that are the subjects of this chapter. I argue that Melbourne can be viewed as a metaphor and analogy for understanding the consequences of terrorism for working people and businesses in all cities. The city of Melbourne and the businesses that are housed there are the laboratories where terrorism can be better understood and the clinics where counter-terrorism responses can be formulated. Much like people living and working in New York, Madrid, LA and London, working people in Melbourne perceive terrorism to be a significant threat that poses a clear and present danger to everyday life in the city.

The distinctive demeanour of terrorism as spectacle, when compared to the spectacles examined by Debord (1983), carry unique affects. Where traditional spectacles represented convergent points of consumption and alienation, the contemporary terrorism spectacle is giddily superficial and banal and reaches witnesses as an image in many locations both near and distant to where terrorist violence has occurred. Witnesses and victims of the spectacle of terrorism are influenced in many ways. This spectacle captures the gaze and navigates the consciousness as it arrives in a steady flow of images and imagery. Terrorism as spectacle relies on witnesses being unable to look away.

Terrorvision

Debord (1983: §1) argued that society was little more than an accumulation of spectacles. Spectacular images in the media have a powerful impact on media audiences. Pickering’s (2005: 52) study of refugees similarly examines the spectacularization of supposed refugee deviancy in Australia’s print media. She argues that refugees have been continuously depicted in the Australian media as illegitimate, illegal, shady and violent and framed in a media discourse of criminality. Pickering (2005: 53) argues that ‘the incessant hum of refugee deviancy has primarily been the business of the mundane and increasingly everyday reporting of refugee issues’. Much like ‘refugee deviancy’ for Pickering, I argue that terrorism is reported in the press incessantly, particularly following critical moments when reporting of terrorism fills journalistic spaces and is ‘produced and reproduced as an event, a scene, a spectacle’ (Pickering, 2005: 53). The Australian print media formed an important part of the context in which research with working people in Melbourne took place. Many informants discussed the world’s media at length.

Business leaders and managers should be concerned with the media images that working people are exposed to. Simulations of hyperreal terrorism saturate media and popular culture, and images of terrorism since 9/11 have been unavoidable. In an article from the Melbourne daily newspaper, The Age, the headline read: ‘Threat of Terror Keeps Us Tuned In’ (Ziffer, 2006: 8). Ziffer’s (2006: 8) article examines the popularity of counter-terrorism themed reality television that depicts real and everyday moments of securing the nation and protecting the community. Ziffer (2006: 8) begins his article: ‘Welcome to Fear TV’. Indeed, welcome – although you were likely already there. In this article Ziffer (2006: 8) argues that: ‘In an uncertain time, Channel Seven’s Border Security is Australia’s most popular show’. Border Security is reality television for the post-9/11 consumer. The programme trades on the fascination with homeland security and terrorism and banks on the desire of people to see how the Global War on Terror is going in a local and familiar setting. The programme presents the everyday operations of border security professionals in Australia’s airports, mailing centres and in coastal waters. At the time of writing Border Security is in its fourth season with a fifth season planned. It is frequently viewed by more than two million people nationally and it was the most viewed programme in Melbourne in the period for recording ratings in late 2006 (Ziffer, 2006). For Australians wondering if they will be the next target of terrorism, programs such as Border Security satisfy the need to see and know. I argue that this show plays an important role for witnesses and victims dealing with the threat that terrorism poses to everyday life in a time of terror. In this sense, it can be argued that counter-terrorism television, reality or otherwise, resonates ‘with viewers shell-shocked by violence and terrorism in far-off lands – and the threat of it arriving here’ (Allen in Ziffer, 2006: 8). Contemporary terrorism strikes this resonance for working people in all cities. Indeed this terrorism as spectacle feels closer than its geographical proximity would sometimes suggest. This is because the spectacular image works to problematize traditional perceptions of time and space. It is the world’s (tele)vision of global events that impact locally. As Debord (1983: §3) argued: ‘The spectacle cannot be understood as an abuse of the world of vision, as a product of the techniques of mass dissemination of images. It is, rather, a Weltanschauung [world view] which has become actual, materially translated. It is a world vision which has become objectified’.

Working People and Media Exposure

Alexander (2004: 124) argues ‘Any prospective terrorist attack in the United States or abroad will victimize labor: whether they are at work or wherever they find themselves – at the wrong place, at the wrong time’. The media play a significant role in this victimization – without the media, terrorists would have no way to generate spectacular images of violence and counter-terrorism operations and image-management techniques would not be necessary (see Miller, 2007: 74–111; Herman, 1982; Herman and Chomsky, 1994).

The values and quality of the media can differ considerably across the world. According to Miller (2007: 74) the US media can be characterized through its ‘hyperemotionalism and mythic folksiness’ that is deployed as a substitute for critical journalism and reporting. As such, the US audience of terrorism has been witness to heart-wrenching accounts from eye-witnesses at Ground Zero and emotional and furious outbursts from many Americans, both near and distant, to the violence of terrorism. US audiences hear little, however, about why terrorism occurs and the vicious US military response that resulted in far more carnage than ‘terrorists’ have generated.

Tulloch’s (2006) witnessing of London’s Underground Zero was initially from the perspective of a ‘victim’ in that he was severely injured at the Edgware Road explosion. Soon Tulloch’s (2006: 41) perspective changed as he began to see his image being used in the media. Tulloch (2006) critically evaluates how his image as a bloodied victim of terrorism was used to justify oppressive counterterrorism legislation and continued involvement of the British government in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. The prevailing trend in British reporting of the 7/7 attacks – and the failed attacks of July 21 – communicated a clear message to all witnesses and victims – another ‘terrorist attack was inevitable in London – not if, but when’ (Tulloch, 2006: 49).

In LA, the threat of terrorism had particularly damaging effects immediately following 9/11 and dramatic shifts in Californian lifestyle can be found in the account of Midnight Oil drummer, Rob Hirst, during the band’s US tour in an ‘Age of Terror’, immediately following 9/11. Hirst (2003: 11) describes the once childhood Mecca (although Hirst cautions against this word in post-9/11 USA) of Disneyland as ‘Fort Mickey’:

The band were dumbfounded that Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck were considered terrorist targets or that one of Australia’s most well-known rock bands would be the conduits for the global war waged by a network of al-Qaeda terrorists. But this example may be illustrative of the mindset of many shortly after 9/11. Counterterrorist business security reduced a popular tourist attraction to virtual desertion in the name of security. Few business leaders, managers and working people would be willing to tolerate this tragic own-goal victory delivered to international terrorism, especially when the nearest terrorist atrocity had occurred such large distances away.

The images of contemporary terrorism, where terrorism entered perception through televisual reality, have been powerful and terrifying. These images of violence have also arrived through written media. Where images of terrorism can be captured and witnessed as the events are taking place, not all terrorism is captured in televisual images. I argue that imagery of contemporary terrorism has often been invoked to provide context and meaning to terror reporting post-9/11. As a referent for all subsequent terrorism 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7 – and events like the Bali bombings – enter the news media as an ‘incessant hum’ (Pickering, 2005: 52–54) of terrorism reporting. In this sense the mundane reporting of terrorist events as routine and everyday is a production that seeks to substitute real images and imagery for real events. McHoul and Miller (1998: ix–x) argued that an ‘everyday event … becomes spectacular’ by becoming part of a collective memory of constructed meanings. As terrorism’s witnesses and victims go about their working lives in cities, terrorism routinely and mundanely reappears through media reporting of the latest terror scare. In these times and spaces we enter, or are invited into, a journalistic museum of terrorism where the artefacts come to life – as they did in Night at the Museum – to tell us that they are not violence, only imitations of violence – what is colloquially known as terror. It is a place where every new terror scare is juxtaposed to what it can never be: a spectacular and pristine image-event like 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7. In this place that I call a ‘black museum of journalism’ the banal and mundane is intensely scrutinized (Virilio 2002: 23). I intend to suggest that closer inspection may reveal that there is nothing more to see.

The City

Melbourne is a prosperous city located in South-Eastern Australia. The city has a population of around 3.7 million and is considered a cultural and sporting epicentre. Melbourne is home, workplace and leisure centre to culturally diverse and prosperous communities. The city houses people from more than 140 countries who arrived in Melbourne displacing indigenous communities via four main waves of migration. The first wave of immigrants who came in the 1830s were English and Irish. These immigrants were responsible for the first disruption of the indigenous Kulin people. The second arrived during the 1850s gold rush and included significant numbers of Chinese immigrants. This caused further displacement of indigenous populations. The third came following WWII when people arrived from Europe. This wave of immigration had been encouraged to boost Australia’s small population. The fourth wave originated from Vietnam and Cambodia. New Zealanders and people from the UK are the most represented in the immigrant population. Melbourne annually holds major cultural and sporting events including the Melbourne Cup horseracing event; the Australian Open tennis; international cricket; the Australian Rules football league Grand Final which is attended by over 90,000 people each September; and the motorcycle and formula one Grands Prix. Melbourne hosted the 1956 Olympic Games and the 2006 Commonwealth Games. The city hosts various social and cultural festivals including the Moomba Waterfest, food and wine festivals, the International Comedy Festival, the Fringe Festival, and the International Arts Festival. The Melbourne Arts Centre regularly holds operas and performances of international significance (City of Melbourne, 2006; Australian Bureau of Statistics, 2005). Encoded in these events and in witnesses in this city distant to contemporary terrorism are a variety of images – images of religion, society and culture, images of Selves and Others, and images of media and televisual culture. Like all major cities I argue it can be understood as a ‘desert of the real’ (Žižek, 2002a: 15), and is characterized by uncertainty, precariousness and vulnerability, and the attempts to manage and regulate these conditions.

In this often dynamic and vibrant locale, city dwellers go about their daily lives. In dealing with the everydayness of vulnerability and precariousness in their city – which is built into the physical, visual, and knowledge spaces and institutions – they confront anxieties and fears, bodies and places, images and imagery. I live and work in Melbourne and I conducted research with people who work in organizations that are housed in the city. During interviews I explored with informants the meanings and consequences of terrorism for working people and businesses. The city, I have argued, is the terrorist’s visual playground. It is a mediated location where spectacular images of terrorism can be theatrically produced – as they were on 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7. Melbourne has never been the theatre for spectacular terrorism – nor has many other cities across the globe – but it is a city with a fearful population. People living and working in Melbourne witnessed and are victims of contemporary terrorism even as terrorist events were occurring live on television. I was watching the popular television program The West Wing that depicts everyday life in the Whitehouse when the alarming and surreal reports from New York began to filter in. Melburnians were appalled by these attacks and were again when the resort island of Bali in Indonesia was targeted on 12 October 2002 killing 202 people – 88 of whom were Australian holiday-makers. The Australian Federal Police (n.d.) described this attack as ‘one of the most horrific acts of terrorism that has come close to Australian shores’ (my emphasis). Melburnians again watched and witnessed as Madrid’s public transport network was devastated by a series of bombings that killed 191 people.

Two thousand and five proved to be a shocking and demoralizing year for an already fearful population of witnesses and victims in Melbourne. There were three terrorist events that filled journalistic spaces and plunged the city into terror. The first half of 2005 was relatively uneventful – I conducted a series of interviews during this time. Then, shortly after the beginning of the new financial year on 7 July the London public transport network was targeted, killing 52 people including one Australian – a former Monash University student and employee, 28 year-old Sam Ly (AAP, 2005). Many Australians had friends and family living in London and, as such, many have stories of jumping on the phone and email to ensure that loved ones had not been caught up in the terror. To say that London is geographically distant to Melbourne is to miss the point. I knew of two friends who were travelling in London at the time of the bombing – one had missed one of the trains where a bomb was detonated. When I tell this story I am often accused of contributing to a popular urban legend. On 1 October of the same year, Bali was targeted for a second time. Twenty-three people were killed when popular restaurant districts were targeted. The recovering Balinese tourist industry was again crushed by this attack so soon after the first Bali bombing. In late 2005, terrorism seemingly arrived in Sydney and Melbourne. In November, following a lengthy period of intelligence gathering, operatives from Australia’s various policing and intelligence agencies swooped on houses in Sydney and Melbourne in dawn raids. Eighteen men were arrested and detained because they were supposedly on the verge of committing a terrorist atrocity.

Witnessing is Always From a Distance

Tulloch’s (2006) perspective as a witness and victim of contemporary terrorism is different to that of people in Melbourne but it shares many similarities. John Tulloch was an Australian academic living and working in the UK – a common and routine scenario. He was severely injured in the 7/7 bombings while travelling to work. In fact, John Tulloch was sitting a few feet from one of the Edgware Road suicide bombers with his briefcase at his feet – a routine and banal move that saved his legs (Tulloch, 2006: 16). While witnessing terrorism for most people in cities throughout the world occurs at a distance, for others this distance is only a few feet. But Tulloch’s (2006) situated knowledge of terrorism – much like the situated knowledges for working people in Melbourne – was one bound in mediated images. Tulloch’s (2006) slow recovery from his injuries was accompanied by a rediscovery and re-creation of the events through media images. His role as a victim of terrorism soon gave way to be being a witness to simulated media imagery:

Tulloch’s (2006) account of the 7/7 attacks powerfully embodies what it means to be a worker, a witness and a victim. It demonstrates the many subtle and unsubtle literary techniques and technologies employed in journalistic spaces in a time of terror. In particular, his account explores the mediated images of terror – and their mis- and re-appropriation that paints a contradictory picture – a paradox of the terrorized city. Londoners were portrayed with images of ‘helplessness, confusion and displacement’ but also defiance, pride and courage that re-animated Britain’s ‘Blitz resistance’ mentality (Tulloch, 2006: 42-43).

Tulloch (2006: 43) argues that an editorial in the Sun on 9 July captured the typical mood of British newspaper reporting. Entitled ‘True Brit Grit’, this article was a space for broad connections to be drawn between the resistance of the British to Nazism and their new resistance to terror – ‘Men, women and children from every walk of life – not just the military – worked fearlessly and tirelessly to crush Hitler’s tyranny … Today Britain calls upon a new generation of heroes to fight an enemy every bit as sinister’ (Tulloch, 2006: 43). The cover of the Sun on 9 July showed pictures of a bloodied John Tulloch and the ‘can-opened bus’ at Tavistock Square accompanying the headline ‘53 Dead in London Terror Attacks. Our Spirit Will Never Be’. In the Daily Mirror the headline read, ‘37 Dead, 700 Injured in London Suicide Terror. Blair Vows: Britain Will NOT Be Intimidated’ (in Tulloch, 2006: 45). The implication here is clear – injured but not beaten in the War on Terror; a war fought by soldiers and city-dwelling civilians alike. The message in Australia during times of terror was quite different.

In Australia, like many countries throughout the world, we have no experience with devastating, large-scale terrorism. Some may point out that I am being glib in this assessment. Australians have experienced what could be defined as terrorism. In 1978 the Hilton Hotel in Sydney was bombed during the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting (CHOGM) killing three people. Militant groups associated with war and violence in the former Yugoslavia have carried out acts of violence within their communities in Australia. If the critical eye was to be turned upon the European heritage of many Australians, that is if we call a spade a spade even if only for a moment, then the closest thing to devastating terrorism that Australians have witnessed on Australian soil is the murder and displacement of Aboriginal communities from the time of European settlement. Terrorism like 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7 has never been seen in Australian cities – indeed Australia has nothing to which a catchy date-slogan could be attached. The Hilton bombing is not known as ‘13/2’. It sounds rather lame to attribute the symbolic date technique to this less insignificant act.

I am not suggesting that Australians are not witnesses and victims of terrorism, however. Indeed, I am suggesting quite the opposite. Australians and Australian workers are among the best placed witnesses in the world. We had front-row seats on 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7 and continue to have the perfect mediated and simulated view whenever the latest terror scare hits media spaces. Australians experienced their own terror scares in 2005 and I document their reporting in the media here. I use this reporting to reaffirm my belief that terrorism is most effective and most damaging when nothing explodes.

Terror Scares and Newspapers

As terror events pass into history the image and simulation reappears time and time again in different configurations of time and space. The ‘unconscious movement of time’, as Debord (1983: §125) described it, prevents the event from being seen again as anything other than an image. This, I argue, is not the end of the story. The possibility remains for events that pass into history to re-emerge, to be re-born, in other guises. The terror events that occurred, around a month apart, late in 2005 represent terrorism’s power across different configurations of time and space. I suggest that as terrorism passes further into the past, its re-animation – re-manifestation, re-emergence, re-constitution, re-occurrence – through terrifying and powerful images and imagery of non-9/11, 3/11 and 7/7 terrorist events continue to terrify people who live and work in the city. Debord (1983: §125–129) argued that this production and reproduction of events through media spectacles gives events a circular quality where events can be witnessed again and again. I argue that working people may be grounded in time and space in particular organizations in particular cities but they are destined to witness and re-witness terrorism in various guises again and again.

I argue that this is what occurred following two major terror scares that affected people working and living in Melbourne – the 1 October 2005 Bali bombings, and the 8 November 2005 anti-terror raids. The first of these terror scares was the second time that Bali had been targeted since 9/11. On both occasions Australians were killed – 88 on 12 October 2002 when the first bombing occurred and four on 1 October 2005 – and these attacks have left a lasting impression on Australian witnesses and victims. The terrorists were strapped into suicide-bombing vests that were detonated in crowded restaurant districts in Kuta and Jimbaran Bay. Graphic amateur video footage captured the moment when one of the suicide bombers entered a restaurant and detonated the backpack that he was wearing. The terrorists were discovered to be Muslim extremists, most likely linked to the regional terrorist group Jemaah Islamiya who are accused of having links with al-Qaeda. According to Aglionby and Ressa (2005), the attacks were masterminded by two of South East Asia’s most wanted men – Malaysian citizens Azahari bin Husin and Noordin Mohamed Top. Husin and Top were believed to have fled from Malaysia to Indonesia following security operations instigated after 9/11.

The second terror scare that I explore is that of the anti-terror raids of 8 November 2005 which began when federal policing and security agencies raided the homes of terror suspects in Melbourne and Sydney at dawn. The arrests were declared later that day to be a momentous event in Australian history (Moran and Drummond, 2005: 5). Sections of the media had been informed where and when the raids were to occur and were able to capture on film the moments in which they took place. Charges were laid against 16 men in Sydney and Melbourne for crimes relating to the preparation for carrying out an act of terrorism in an Australian city. Discovered in the anti-terror raids were a ‘shopping list’ of chemicals used to make bombs, a handgun, and a map of a government building in inner city Melbourne (Moran and Drummond, 2005: 5). The group was believed to be part of a global network of terrorists that quietly go about their lives as sleeper cells while preparing to carry out acts of terror. In a report in Terrorism Monitor, Stanley (2005) argues that the anti-terror raids occurred in an environment where Australians have been warned that ‘an attack on Australian soil by al-Qaeda or its allies is probable, if not inevitable’. The threat posed by the men arrested in Sydney and Melbourne was, according to Stanley (2005), ‘very real’ despite scepticism amongst many Australians about whether terrorism posed a serious threat in Australia. The leader of this so-called cell was 45 year-old Abdul Nacer Benbrika. All of the men arrested were reported to be devout Muslims and many attended a mosque in Brunswick, an ethnically diverse inner-Melbourne suburb, where Benbrika preached. Stanley (2005) argues that the terror suspects arrested in these anti-terror raids in Melbourne and Sydney were part of an international trend towards the development of mostly ‘home-grown’ terrorist organizations. A prosecutor at the committal hearing on 9 November 2005 in the Melbourne Magistrates Court argued that the terror suspects were ‘committed to a jihad’ and obsessed with becoming martyrs (Australian Broadcasting Corporation, 2005).

I witnessed the stream of opinion columns, journalistic articles and letters to the editor that appeared in major newspapers both in Australia and worldwide following 9/11. The opinion-editorials and letters to the editor seemed to peak along with the journalistic articles following incidences of terrorism that received media coverage in Australia. When the resort island of Bali was targeted by terrorists for a second time on 1 October 2005 and when anti-terror raids were carried out in Melbourne and Sydney on 8 November 2005 there was an intense response from the journalistic communities and particularly from opinion writers. It sparked several concurrent debates about terrorism; some debating the threat that terrorism posed to Melbourne and how we should respond as a community. Since many key informants in the research that I conducted listed newspapers as one of their most frequently-used media sources, an analysis of Australia’s major newspapers provides an important context for their responses.

The Bali bombings and the anti-terror raids were reported incessantly in the days that followed these terror scares, and re-emerged from time to time for several months after the events. It was Australia’s major newspapers that were among the first to break these events as news stories, and these major newspapers are the focus of the content analysis presented in this chapter. In my content analysis I have focused on the Herald Sun and The Age, both of which are daily newspapers in Melbourne; The Australian, Australia’s nationally-focused major daily newspaper; and The Sydney Morning Herald which is based in Sydney but widely read throughout Australia. The Herald Sun is Australia’s most read daily newspaper with over 554,000 copies sold each day to a readership of 1.5 million people (The Herald and Weekly Times Pty Ltd, n.d), and is owned by Rupert Murdoch’s News Corporation. It is presented in tabloid format and has larger advertising, sport, entertainment and opinion sections than other major Australian newspapers. The broadsheet The Australian is also owned by Rupert Murdoch’s News Corporation. It is Australia’s best-selling national daily newspaper yet attracts only a comparatively small readership of around 130,000 per weekday with the weekend edition attracting around 195,000 readers. The Herald Sun and The Australian are in competition with the Fairfax owned The Age and The Sydney Morning Herald. The Age is a Melbourne daily newspaper that is read daily by over 202,000 people, by over 302,000 readers on Saturdays, and by over 220,000 readers on Sunday (The Age – Corporate Information, 2007). The Age is a broadsheet newspaper and is colloquially seen as a non-tabloid, more legitimate and even ‘highbrow’ alternative to the Herald Sun. The Sydney Morning Herald is Australia’s oldest newspaper (Isaacs and Kirkpatrick, n.d: 22). It is read by 882,000 people each weekday and on Saturdays it is read by over 1.1 million people. The Herald Sun and The Australian are considered, by some, to support conservative political values. Such views have been expressed on talkback radio and in weblogs by both members of the public and political and expert commentators (see for example Myriad Mint, 2005). The Age and The Sydney Morning Herald are sometimes accused in these same forums of being left-wing (see for example Jackson, 2007). A fifth major Australian newspaper that makes a brief appearance in this content analysis is the Financial Review. It has a smaller readership when compared to other major Australian newspapers – its circulation still reaches over 85,000 people each day. It considers itself the most important business-oriented newspaper in Australia (Australian Financial Review, n.d). From time to time the Financial Review participates in these crucial moments of terrorism reporting.

While some will watch the evening news on television for information about their city and their world, others will read reports, opinions and letters contained in major newspapers. Others write for newspapers as journalists and opinion writers, and still others write letters that actively create the spectacle that they consume. The stories, opinions, and letters produced and printed in these major Australian newspapers use 9/11 as the ‘mother’ of all events through which all previous and subsequent terrorism events are analyzed. I argue that these stories, opinions and letters contribute to terrorism as spectacle, but they are far from spectacular. These stories, opinions and letters are mundane, banal, everyday and routine. The fact that these comparatively minor terror scares received so much attention – in some respects more attention than more deadly attacks such as 3/11 and 7/7, undoubtedly due to the personal feel of these late-2005 attacks to Australians – is testament to how everyday and routine the threat of terrorism had become. The second Bali bombing and the anti-terror raids were constantly reported – whether there was anything to report or not – because it made a nation unmolested by terrorism feel as though we were as endangered as any New Yorker, Londoner, Spaniard or Californian.

The Blasts Were in Bali but they Ring in the Ears of Melbourne

The second Bali bombing occurred late on Saturday night 1 October 2005. This timing meant that there was minimal reporting in the Sunday editions of Australia’s major newspapers. In the Sunday Age on 2 October, however, there was one news article that reported that there were blasts in Bali on the previous night and that they were ‘clearly the work of terrorists’ (Mbai in Forbes et al., 2005: 1). On 3 October there were detailed news articles, opinion pieces, editorials and letters to the editor in Australia’s major newspapers. Pages 1–15 of the Herald Sun for example, contained articles about the Bali bombings that were accompanied by colour pictures of wreckage, victims and faces frozen in expressions of trauma and fear. On page four there was a map of Bali and highlighted on this map were the locations where the attacks occurred. On page four the reader was directed to pages 20 and 21 where opinion editorials about the Bali bombings were published. On pages eight and nine a timeline of terror was offered that reinforced the impact of contemporary terrorism on people who live and work in cities far from terror’s flashpoints. In this timeline – which was headlined ‘Trail of Destruction’ – the starting point is 9/11 (Herald Sun, 2005a: 8–9). Here 9/11 is immediately a reference point and it is given special emphasis. The timeline continues by highlighting several other attacks that have impacted on Australian interests. These include the first Bali bombing in October 2002, the bombing in front of the Australian Embassy in Jakarta in September 2004 and the October 2005 Bali bombing. They are juxtaposed with other acts of contemporary terrorism, and the fact of their comparative insignificance in terms of buildings destroyed and people killed underlies the journalistic discourse of the October Bali bombings and the terrorism reporting in the days that followed.

Page 15 of the October 3 edition of the Herald Sun features an interview with Jason McCartney, a former professional Australian Rules footballer and a survivor of the 2002 Bali bombing. This provided the Herald Sun with a unique opportunity to combine spectacular issues in one news article. Jason McCartney was already a well-known celebrity in Melbourne before the first Bali bombing. He was an AFL footballer with three clubs – Collingwood Magpies, Adelaide Crows and North Melbourne Kangaroos – and had played 181 games before being severely injured in the terrorist attacks at nightclubs in Bali in October 2002. In a triumphant comeback game in which he wore bandages to protect his burns and a jumper with two numbers – 88 for the number of Australians who died in the first Bali bombings and 202 for the total number who died – he influenced his team’s victory and, in a post-match interview announced his retirement to the crowd live on television. He has since written a book about his experiences in Bali (McCartney, 2003). His advice following the second Bali bombing was that the resort-island was, as a consequence, too dangerous to visit (Nolan, 2005: 15). In the ‘Your Say’ section he again expressed his ‘concern’ that ‘It’s happened in New York, Bali, Madrid, London – it’s getting close’ (Herald Sun, 2005b: 18). His comments reanimated contemporary acts of terrorism as a reference point for understanding all terrorism.

The attacks occurred in the midst of an ongoing debate in Australia regarding the need for strict anti-terrorism legislation, and the debate intensified in the week following the 1 October Bali bombings. The Age presented an appraisal of these laws and the media’s reaction. The laws as they were proposed at the time would allow for the ‘tagging’ of terrorism suspects by the federal police: powers to detain people as young as 16 for long periods; the creation of a new offence for inciting violence; and the searching and questioning of people at major sporting events and mass gatherings (Haywood, 2005: 8). The laws had been opposed in some sections of Australian society but Attorney-General Philip Ruddock (in Haywood, 2005: 8) advised ‘The discomfort involved in restrictions of this nature imposed upon an individual is nothing compared to the lifetime of pain and suffering for the innocent survivor of a terrorist attack’. An editorial in The Age, 24 September 2005 argued, with direct reference to 9/11, that it had been four years since ‘the world changed’ (Editor – The Age, 2005: 10). The editorial called for vigilance in confronting terrorism and denounced heavy-handed legal responses. Some would say that this was a predictable response from The Age as it is often identified as being politically left-wing (see for example Cornish et al., 1996: 495).

An opinion-editorial (op-ed) in the Herald Sun on October 3 by Ian Shaw (2005: 21), a postgraduate student from the University of New South Wales, discussed the terrorist group believed to be responsible for the Bali attacks, Jemaah Islamiya, and their choice of ‘soft targets’. He offered a general warning that venues such as ‘open-fronted restaurants and bars and alfresco eateries’ are attractive targets (Shaw, 2005: 21). I suggest the vagueness and obviousness of such a statement underlies the mundane and everydayness of terrorism reporting. It is a tautological statement, which amounts to something of the order that ‘terrorists choose targets that cause terror’. But it once again points to the attractiveness of working people and businesses as targets of terrorism. Another op-ed by Paul Gray (2005: 21) discussed whether proposed anti-terror laws are needed. He described the laws as ‘hysterical’ and responsive to ‘non-existent’ terrorism. He questioned whether restricting civil liberties was really the best way to fight terrorism. Gray (2005: 21) argued that terrorism is not a domestic problem for Australia: it happens overseas in New York, Madrid, London and Bali. He considers the 34 pieces of anti-terrorism legislation in Australia ‘since September 11’ to be clear evidence of an overreaction (Gray, 2005: 21).

I have included here a discussion of the ‘Vox Pop’ section. It is a daily feature of the Herald Sun that asks members of the public their opinion on an issue that affects Melbourne, and it appears in the same section as the op-eds. It is perhaps not best placed in the opinion editorial section of my content analysis since op-eds are most often reserved for experts and established commentators, but since the Herald Sun has chosen to compare expert and public opinion in this way I have decided to embrace their technique and similarly explore the Vox Pops in the same space that I explore the op-eds. The Vox Pop for this day asked ‘Do you support the proposed new anti-terrorist laws such as the power to detain people without charge for 14 days?’ (Herald Sun, 2005b: 18). The result was a resounding four out of five in favour of the proposed legislation. Vox Pops and letters to the editor allowed witnesses to actively create their spectacles and articulate their own personal terrorism imagery following the 1 October Bali Bombings. Baudrillard (1988: 30) has argued that ‘The need to speak, even if one has nothing to say, becomes more pressing when one has nothing to say’. I want to suggest that Vox Pops and letters to the editor are examples of the need to speak when we have nothing to say in response to images of terrorism. In this way witnesses and victims can be seen participating actively in the creation of a theatre of terrorism.

A Matter of ‘When’ Not ‘If’

In an interview in the Herald Sun, Victoria’s assistant police commissioner Simon Overland argued that ‘it was only a matter of time before terrorists struck on Australian soil’ (Mickelburough, 2005: 9). According to Overland (in Mickelburough, 2005: 9):

In the same Herald Sun news article Victorian Premier Steve Bracks confirmed that terrorism might occur in Melbourne: ‘That’s the assumption that we’ve had for some time now, of course, since September 11, since London and Madrid and, of course, the dreadful events in Bali’ (Mickelburough, 2005: 9). Premier Bracks believed the main targets may be transport networks and anywhere people gather for major events, but he also offered calming words: ‘I think the evidence at the moment is that it [Jemaah Islamiya] doesn’t have a base here and it doesn’t have a big supporter base here’ (Mickelburough, 2005: 9).

Another former Australian Rules footballer, Dermot Brereton, offered his views on the latest Bali violence and his pending surfing trip to Indonesia in the Herald Sun on October 4: ‘I view it not as much as an attack on Australians this time, I think it is more of a concerted effort to destroy the financial structure of Bali’ (in Dunn, 2005: 8). Brereton is determined not to let the terrorists win ‘and his group will go ahead with their trip’ (Dunn, 2005: 8). It is possible to suggest that this is mundane terrorism reporting at its most banal. What gives a former Australian Rules footballer and football commentator the capacity to comment on the ‘financial structure of Bali’? It is perhaps surprising that this item appeared in a news articles section of the Herald Sun and not in the opinion pages. It is possible that this article provided some solace for readers, for encoded in Brereton’s comments was defiance. Brereton could do what many Melburnians would perhaps have liked to do: be defiant as terrorism threatened. Another news article three pages after Brereton’s advice discussed what it meant to witness the terrorism in Bali. Witnessing terrorism in Bali, according to Robinson and Whinnett (2005: 11), has made many people question whether they should continue visiting Bali. Many holidaymakers left immediately following the bombing and others stayed ‘defying warnings to leave Bali, saying it would hand a victory to the terrorists’ (Robinson and Whinnett, 2005: 11).

On page twelve of the same issue of the Herald Sun the story of a young train enthusiast is featured. He was banned from taking photos of trains by a Melbourne rail company (Edmund, 2005: 12). Twelve-year-old Jason Blackman was told he had to fill out a form declaring his intention to photograph trains at Melbourne’s Flinders Street Station. He and his father duly complied only to be told that their plans of taking photographs during ‘school holidays and occasional weekends’ were not stated specifically enough (Edmund, 2005: 12). Jason’s father argued ‘I can’t see the harm. We’re not going to blow anyone up. We’re not terrorists. We’re just normal people’ (Edmund, 2005: 12). A spokesperson for the company replied to this suggestion by claiming that: ‘It’s unfortunate but in today’s climate and with the security conditions we need to enforce, we ask amateur photographers to give us some prior warning … Even in the case of a 12-year-old boy we don’t make assumptions about who is or isn’t a risk’ (Edmund, 2005: 12). It would seem that a routine leisure activity enjoyed by many children was a security risk. The fact that it was reported as a news item is banal and adds to the incessant hum of terrorism reporting.

Controversial Melbourne-based law academic Mirko Bagaric also contributed an oped – it appeared on the same page as my own. Bagaric is perhaps best known for his views regarding the morality of torture – he has argued that the ‘reflex rejection of torture needs to be replaced by recognition that it can be a moral means of saving life’ (Bagaric, 2005a: 13). He began his op-ed published in the Herald Sun on October 4: ‘The latest Bali bombings, so close to Australian shores, highlight the catastrophic consequences that stem from a terrorist attack’ (Bagaric, 2005b: 21). Bagaric (2005b) argued that the attacks should put the new anti-terror laws into perspective and affirm their necessity. He accused opponents of the anti-terror laws of lacking ‘imagination’ and maintained that terrorism poses a risk that must be taken seriously. Bagaric (2005b) argued that the securitization of society must be undertaken with a full appreciation of the risk that is faced. He argued that whilst we were not ‘in a war’ we are also not in a traditional risk framework: ‘Depending on who you ask, the risk is anywhere between remote to a near certainty. If we split the difference it’s a sure bet that there is a real risk that terrorists will launch an attack on Australian soil in the foreseeable future’.

In the editors remarks in the 4 October edition of the Herald Sun the readers were reminded that terrorists are set to target Western interests in general, ‘and Australia and Melbourne in particular’ (Editor – Herald Sun, 2005: 20). The editor reiterated the comments made by the Police Assistant Commissioner that an attack in Australia was inevitable and that ‘common sense dictates’ that the Melbourne Commonwealth Games could be the likely target (Editor – Herald Sun, 2005: 20). The editor of the Herald Sun cited a statement issued on behalf of civil liberties organization Liberty Victoria. This statement argued that the new anti-terror laws are a greater threat to our way of life than terrorism. The editor responded that this statement was ‘Dangerous, deluded stuff!’ (Editor – Herald Sun, 2005: 20).

In The Australian on 5 October West and Stein (2005: 15) drew comparisons between 9/11 and the Bali bombings. Citing Susan Sontag’s comments after 9/11 that the terrorists were not cowards as a general example of free speech being exercised, they wrote that debate and discussion must not be stifled in the aftermath of the Bali attacks. Another example of this appeared in The Age where a manager at Melbourne’s international airport argued that a travel slump comparable to that after 9/11 is expected after the Bali bombings (Jackson, 2005: 4). In The Australian, Victorian Police Chief Commissioner Christine Nixon argued that an attack at the Melbourne Commonwealth Games ‘cannot be ruled out’ as it is ‘the first major public event (in Melbourne) since 9/11’ (in Kerin, 2005: 8). In an article by Macnamara (2005: 7) in the same issue of The Australian, academic Joseph Siracusa warned that Australia is a ‘terrorist’s delight’ and added that since 9/11 there had been few steps taken to protect Australian cities.

Bolt (2005a) in the Herald Sun of 5 October speculated in general about the risks he believed terrorism posed to people living and working in the city, using statements from accused terrorists to support his arguments. I was most alarmed by Bolt’s general references to Muslims and Islam as perpetrators of terrorism. While he intended most likely to criticize only Islamic extremists, he allowed his language to occasionally drift into general criticisms of Muslims and Islam: ‘Islamic fascists’, ‘That’s how Islam’s death cult has spread’, ‘new Islamist cult of death’, ‘And should Muslims use nuclear weapons against us?’ (Bolt, 2005a: 23). It is not my intention to take these quotes out of context to demonize Andrew Bolt – as a conservative commentator he is often demonized – but rather point to how casual language and generalized statements can become part of the consequences of terrorism. In these particular cases the consequences are overreaction, hyperbole and the demonizing of innocent people. Were Bolt’s words to result in negative attitudes towards Muslims – or rather people who appear to be Muslim – it would be an alarming consequence of media reporting of terrorism in Bali.

On 6 October – five days after the Bali bombings – the incessant hum of terrorism reporting that reanimates other acts of contemporary terrorism became more gentle and nuanced as brash and dramatic pictorial reporting made way for more analytical accounts from journalists and opinion writers. In a news article by Meade (2005: 17) in The Australian it is argued that the media and its response to terrorism has been fine tuned since 9/11: ‘Terrorist attacks have become more commonplace since September 11, 2001, and newsrooms are much quicker to respond when disaster strikes’. Meade (2005) explained that news of the Bali bombings was received at around 10.15pm on 1 October in Sydney and several journalists had already been booked on flights to Bali by 11pm. According to one news director, ‘I remember after September 11 it took us almost 24 hours to realise what had happened … Now … it has become such big news, we react straightaway’ (Meade, 2005: 17).

Also in this edition of The Australian, Kissane (2005: 10) reported that some people in Indonesia believed that terrorism is a product of a Western conspiracy against Islam. Kissane (2005: 10) continued the trend of reanimating contemporary terrorism in the journalistic spaces devoted to the Bali bombings. Kissane (2005: 10) argued that some Indonesians see Osama bin Laden as a hero, and believed that he was not behind recent acts of terrorism. Conspiracy theories relating to 9/11 are mentioned specifically on three occasions in Kissane’s article about the Bali bombings. News articles about the Bali bombings in the 6 October edition of the Herald Sun were pushed almost entirely from the front page. A small banner across the bottom of the front page stated: ‘World Police Team Up To Hunt Bali Bombers’ (Herald Sun, 2005c: 1).

The most substantial coverage of Bali bombings in the Herald Sun took place in the opinion pages, in an op-ed by Neil Mitchell (2005a: 23) – the host of a popular talkback radio program on Melbourne radio station 3AW on weekday mornings. Mitchell (2005a: 23) argued that ‘The unthinkable is now considered inevitable’ and people living and working in Melbourne should start planning for the day that terrorists attack in their city. Mitchell (2005a) argued that there are several deficiencies in Melbourne’s preparedness for the worst case terrorism scenario: scenarios such as 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7. He argued that the hospitals are under-prepared, that there may be a lack of coordination between doctors and nurses in the event of a terrorist attack, and that the readiness of current and former police and fire-fighters was questionable. Mitchell (2005a: 23) asked:

This was not just a problem for emergency workers in Mitchell’s (2005a) view. Tow-truck drivers would also want to help clear debris and damaged or destroyed vehicles. Bus drivers, who are trained to watch out for suspicious packages, would be particularly on edge during a terrorist scare. In short, how could the employed population – the victims and targets of terrorism – participate in the response to terrorism? Mitchell (2005a: 23) asked: Would their training in identifying the suspicious extend to acting on their observations? Would train drivers know not to pull into a station if they believed there was a bomb on board? Would they be willing to risk their own safety to preserve the lives of many others? Mitchell (2005a) provided an example of the emergency response to a chemical fire at Coode Island in 1991 in an outer suburb of Melbourne. A fire broke out at a chemical treatment plant near Melbourne and radio and television reports warned people to stay indoors until further notice. Mitchell (2005a: 23) noted, however, that ‘After reporting the fire I drove cautiously into the city. Life was normal. People were shopping, chatting and commuting as the smoke threatened. The warnings had been unheard or ignored’.

By 7 October there was little interest in the Bali bombings but there remained significant interest in terrorism and the likelihood of it occurring in Melbourne. On 7 October it was six days since the Bali bombings that targeted a popular restaurant district and only five months before the city hosted the 2006 Commonwealth Games. That day’s edition of the Herald Sun reported on page three that ‘High Flyers Can Go Jump’ (Kelly, 2005: 3). A subheading explained: ‘Former police chief Kel Glare wants parachutes for people who work or live above the 13^th floor’ for the next time terrorists attack tall buildings as they did on 9/11 (Kelly, 2005: 3). Reactions to the story were mixed among people that were interviewed by Kelly (2005), and who lived or worked above the thirteenth floor. An occupant of a building in inner city Melbourne who worked a kilometre from the World Trade Center in New York on 9/11 commented that they had no lingering fears and would not be buying a parachute. Another occupant, who lived in a city high-rise apartment block, believed the suggestion was ‘absolutely laughable’ (in Kelly, 2005: 3). Others, however, thought it was a great idea, despite the $250 price tag being a barrier (Herald Sun, 2005d: 3). Some experts felt the suggestion was impractical. Assistant Chief Fire Officer Greg Bawden argued that ‘You couldn’t do it in Melbourne. Where would you land?’ (Bawden in Kelly, 2005: 3). Unsurprisingly perhaps, a parachute manufacturer thought it was a good idea.

I suggest that this week of reporting in Australia’s major newspapers that reanimated other acts of contemporary terrorism represented a commodification of terrorism. In this sense the terror parachute is an example of an escalation of this commodification. Unsurprisingly, this news story was reported like any other. It was mundane, routine, everyday and banal. I suggest that the terror bombardment that readers of Australia’s major newspapers were subjected to following the Bali bombings created the space for this ridiculous suggestion to be incorporated into banal terror news.

By Saturday 8 October 2005 there was little discussion and reporting on the Bali bombings. In the Herald Sun, stories about the Bali bombings were relegated to page 13. Seven days after the Bali bombings and a week-long media hum of terrorism reporting, the journalistic spaces fall mostly silent on terrorism. Page 13 described an Anglican Archdeacon in Geelong who called for prayers not just for victims but for terrorists too (Houlihan, 2005: 13). On the same page was the story of little ‘Victory’ whose father had died in the first Bali bombing, in October 2002, before he was born: it was suggested that he will always be a testament of what terrorism can never destroy (Whinnett, 2005: 13). Page 19 contained two news items that again demonstrated the everydayness and banality of terrorism reporting. A Rolling Stones concert at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville in the United States was stopped for ten minutes to allow bomb sniffer dogs access to the stage (Herald Sun, 2005e: 19); and United States soldiers in Iraq discovered what they believed to be plans to blow up the New York subway (Associated Press et al., 2005: 19). In response, a ‘security blanket’ was thrown over New York’s subway system with police searching ‘bags, briefcases, strollers and other luggage’ (Associated Press et al., 2005: 19). Everyday situations and rituals – going to concerts, travelling to work and around the city – were made to seem potentially risky and precarious.

Letter Writing in an Age of Terror

The letters to the editor in the week following the 1 October Bali bombings are illustrative of how terrorism spectacles are generated and received by media audiences. There were a number of letters to the editor published on 3 October that related to the bombings. One was displayed prominently in bold font. It asked the Victorian Premier Steve Bracks: ‘Mr Bracks, will you have enough security at the Commonwealth Games next year?’ (Herald Sun, 2005b: 18). The bold font stands out and catches the eye when page 18 is opened. This letter placed the Bali bombings in a Melbourne context by forging a link with a major sporting and cultural event that was to be held in Melbourne in March 2006 – the Commonwealth Games. Major cultural and sporting events are critical components of everyday life in the city of Melbourne. Close to the central business district of the city there are two large sporting stadiums. One – the Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG) – is a world-renowned venue with the capacity to seat around 100,000 spectators, the other – the Telstra Dome – is smaller but still enormous with a capacity for around 50,000 spectators. The Telstra Dome is located just behind the newly refurbished Southern Cross Station (formerly Spencer Street Station) which was renovated in time for the Commonwealth Games and has taken its place as one of Melbourne’s most prominent locations from which to travel on the vulnerable rail network. Southern Cross and the ‘Dome represent key coordinates in a theatre of terrorism. A bomb detonated in this region of Melbourne would kill and terrify many people living and working in Melbourne. The possibility of this occurring kills no one, but terrifies many.

In The Age, Ray Brindle wondered what ‘the real risk’ was (The Age, 2005a: 12). He argued that more people die on US roads in a month than died in the 9/11 attacks. Colin Hughes wondered why Jemaah Islamiya’s spiritual leader, Abu Bakar Bashir, was never arrested on one of his many visits to Australia. After all, ‘It is unlikely he came for the footy’ (The Age, 2005a: 12). Paul Rozental also in a letter to The Age argued that terrorism is nothing new and our only options are to fight or do nothing. He pointed out that there was terrorism even before 9/11.

In a letter to the Herald Sun’s ‘Your Say’ section, Dale Hughes took aim at an op-ed by Paul Gray from 3 October: ‘Paul Gray seems to underestimate the threat of terrorism in Australia’ (Herald Sun, 2005b: 18). Hughes argued that the terrorism in New York, Madrid, London and Bali meant that terrorism in Australia was ‘almost inevitable’. His solution was tough terror laws that he argued would restrict our freedoms far less than terrorism would.

The result of a reader poll was reported in the Herald Sun on 5 October. The poll had asked: ‘Is Australia at greater risk of a terror attack in light of the Bali bombing?’ (Herald Sun, 2005f: 19). Of the 472 people who called in to answer this question, 59.7 per cent believed that Australia was at greater risk. Through the power of images and what I argue to be spectacular yet mundane reporting, 59.7 per cent of Herald Sun readers believed that the attacks in Bali made Australia more at risk. It is possible to suggest that terrorism in Bali does not make us more at risk, but it may have made us more aware of already existing risks and vulnerabilities. In short, terrorism in Bali may be distant, but it feels close. In The Age on 5 October, a letter from Ray Sanderson argued that the ‘reality’ is that terrorism had never occurred against Australians in Australia (The Age, 2005b: 16). John Novak wrote in The Age that Australia is clearly not safe from terrorism. He believed it is perhaps not probable, but that it is random and could happen without warning, at any time. Alan Freedman, also writing in The Age, believed that in Melbourne people find themselves in a world war that ‘started on September 11’ (The Age, 2005b: 16).

In The Australian, witnessing is a feature of the letters to the editor section (The Australian, 2005a: 15). Barry Jiggins argued that ‘We in the West will compulsorily bare (sic) witness to your macabre swan song on the evening news if that’s what it takes to enjoy our decadence and freedoms in peace’. In compulsorily bearing witness Barry Jiggins admitted to being unable to look away when terrorism is on his television. Barry Jiggins then decided to share his views by writing to the ‘letters to the editor’ section of The Australian. In this way, Barry Jiggins has helped create the spectacle of terrorism that he witnesses. Rex Condon in The Australian offered a critique of the media reporting of the Bali bombing. He asked why so much coverage was devoted to the reporting of Australian interests when the attacks mainly damaged the people and tourism infrastructure of Bali. Rex Condon argued that where the transferring home of an Australian victim received front page attention, the treatment of injured locals was mostly ignored. Judi Cox concluded in The Australian: ‘Just when you think you’ve seen all the gruesome images, photos appear of the severed heads of the three Bali suicide bombers. Let’s hope parents of young children are turning off the TV news and hiding newspapers’ (The Australian, 2005a: 15).

A letter from Paul Wilson in the Sydney Morning Herald asked what allows the media to show such graphic images of violence and injury on television (The Sydney Morning Herald, 2005: 14).

Paul Wilson (The Sydney Morning Herald, 2005: 14) argued that the nature of witnessing can be seen to have changed when his five-year-old witnessed ‘Bali terrorism 2005’ on a news bulletin during a children’s programme. Wilda Fong wrote in The Sydney Morning Herald that while she understands that ‘a picture speaks a thousand words’ she questions the purpose of bloodied images of victims from the Bali bombings: ‘Where are the ethics and compassion from people of the media?’ (The Sydney Morning Herald, 2005: 14). Allan Gibson drew comparisons between terrorism news and television fiction. He argued that as we watched the images of Australian Federal Police working with their Indonesian counterparts in the aftermath of the attacks, witnesses should have kept in mind that ‘Unlike the scenarios of popular TV programmes, this crime scene investigation is reality’¹ (my emphasis) (The Sydney Morning Herald, 2005: 14). These letters to the editor in the Herald Sun, The Age, The Australian and The Sydney Morning Herald contained sophisticated comment and opinion about images and what it means to be a witness. Terrifying and powerful images clearly had an impact on the letter-writers explored here. Yet these letter-writers are not passive observers of the terrorist threat and its rejuvenation, reconstitution, and reanimation: they are active participants in the everyday, routine, mundane and banal terrorism commentary.

Ann Jenkin asked in The Australian why the Australian public was doing the hard work for the terrorists by feeling excessive fears and anxieties and overreacting to the attacks in Bali. She believed it is what terrorists want and ‘Thanks to our media, they are being incredibly successful’ (The Australian, 2005b: 13). In the Herald Sun, Phillip Spencer argued that the Howard government was guilty of waging a ‘Muslims under the bed fear campaign’ analogous to the former Australian Prime Minister Bob Menzies’ 1950s and 1960s ‘reds under the bed scare campaign’ (Herald Sun, 2005g: 21). He went on to suggest that the treatment of Muslims in Australia had taken us ‘back to the middle of last century’. He argued that an open dialogue, tolerance and understanding could ensure that Australia remained a safe place to live and work (Herald Sun, 2005g: 21). A letter in The Age from Peter Kartsounis argued against profiling in airports that targets Muslim Australians. He believed that Australia could easily become a place that paints Muslims as the ‘legitimate subjects of fear and suspicion in a post-9/11 world’ (The Age, 2005c: 12). Terrorism for Peter Kartsounis was real, but the negative consequences did not have to be.

Terror News – The Bali Bombings

In this analysis of Australia’s major newspapers following 1 October 2005 I have suggested that contemporary acts of terrorism – such as 9/11, 7/7 and 3/11 – were rejuvenated, reconstituted, and reanimated in journalistic spaces devoted to reporting the Bali bombings. I presented information from news articles, opinion editorials (op-eds), and letters to the editor from major Australian newspapers in the week following the attack – 2 October through to 8 October 2005 – to demonstrate this rejuvenation. I argued that during times of terror, terrorism becomes a routine and everyday part of life in the city. I suggest that this reporting, particularly in the Murdoch-owned tabloid Herald Sun, is directed towards selling ‘terrorism’ as a brand and a commodity. This terror-reporting forms part of the backdrop to living and working in the city. Bali is a popular holiday destination for affluent Australian workers who, due to favourable conditions for currency exchange and the low cost of consumer products in Indonesia, flock to the island during end of season sporting trips, school holidays and annual leave. While Bali is not part of the Australian homeland, the trend of reporting, opinion and letter writing in the week following the second Bali bombing suggests that for many Australians it feels like part of Australia. Bali is an Australian ‘traumascape’ (Tumarkin, 2005) – a site of national mourning and ‘Aussie’ identity. As such, these attacks resonate with working people in Australian cities. Australian workers – and I argue the world’s workers – know that they are the targets of terrorism. They are also targets when holidaying in Bali.

Given the response of Australians evident in journalistic space in major Australian newspapers one can imagine that the response would be spectacular if terrorists were to carry out a successful attack in an Australian city. Some have suggested that terrorism almost happened – were such a thing possible – in November 2005 when accused terrorists were arrested in Sydney and Melbourne, with authorities suggesting without the burden of evidence that these men were on the verge of committing a terrorist atrocity. I will focus on the spectacular, overreacting and sensational media coverage of these attacks. This terror-reporting placed working people squarely in the crosshairs of home-grown terrorism. In this way it is strikingly different to the response to the attacks on Bali. Terrorism in Indonesia remains distant, no matter how close it felt. While these anti-terror arrests certainly do not equate to a literal act of violence, the hysterical response of many journalists and some sections of the public and law enforcement communities points to something diabolical about terrorism and the threat it poses. These arrests for supposed terroristic intent were treated by some to represent a clear and present danger to people living and working in Melbourne and Sydney. The anti-terror arrests were another crucial moment in terrorism reporting and journalistic spaces again filled with references to 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7 and their rejuvenation in mundane and banal ways.

Too Close For Comfort: Anti-Terror Raids in Australian Cities

Witnesses awoke on 9 November 2005 to images and alarming newspaper reports that declared home-grown terrorism had arrived in Sydney and Melbourne. The raids were conducted at dawn on 8 November, too late in the morning to appear in that day’s editions of Australia’s major newspapers. Dunn and Anderson (2005: 2) reported in the Herald Sun that hidden cells had been planning ‘catastrophic’ chemical or explosive attacks, and that their plans had been ‘smashed’ during dawn raids by federal police and security agencies. The Melbourne Magistrates Court was told by prosecuting attorneys at committal hearings for the terror suspects that one of the accused was willing to be a martyr in a suicide mission (Dunn and Anderson, 2005: 2). Another terror suspect who was arrested later on the day of the raids was shot while being apprehended. Dunn and Anderson (2005: 2) argued that it may prove to be ‘a day that forever changed Australia’. The authors described the day in this way: ‘In the nation’s biggest joint counter-terrorism operation, more than 400 federal and state police, along with ASIO agents, swooped on 22 properties in two states, arresting nine men in Melbourne and eight in Sydney, and seizing chemicals and computers’.

The anti-terror raids were framed in the media as essential and necessary actions to thwart an imminent attack on people living and working in Melbourne – little critical thought was exhibited amongst the journalists privileged enough to be tipped-off before the raids occurred. Yet, more than anything, the raids were unmistakably media events – spectacular events – that were used to sell newspapers and ensure a large audience for the nightly news. Whether terrorism posed any greater material or corporeal threat to Melbourne was profoundly irrelevant. The rationale for the arrests was that: ‘We were concerned the attack was imminent’, Victorian Police Chief Commissioner Christine Nixon said. Premier Steve Bracks said he believed police had disrupted ‘probably the most serious preparation for a terrorist attack that we have seen in Australia’ (Dunn and Anderson, 2005: 2). In The Australian, Stewart and Leys (2005: 1) offered similarly narrow coverage of the raids. They described the anti-terror raids in this way:

The New South Wales Police Chief Commissioner, Ken Maroney, stated that the Australian public could be ‘satisfied that we have disrupted what I would regard as the final stages of a large-scale terrorist attack … here in Australia’ (Stewart and Leys, 2005: 1). Stewart and Leys (2005: 1) reported that during the committal hearing in the Melbourne Magistrates Court for the arrested terror suspects, the prosecutor claimed that the accused believed that a holy war should be carried out against infidels and that killing innocent people in some circumstances would be appropriate. The defence solicitors argued that the charges were ‘scandalous political prosecutions that shame this nation’ and added that there was no evidence to suggest that the group was planning on carrying out a terrorist act (Stewart and Leys, 2005: 1).

On 9 November, Moran and Drummond (2005: 5) reported in the Financial Review that the would-be terrorists had tried to obtain chemicals that had not been readily available since 9/11. This point was reiterated in a news article by Tippet (2005: 3) that appeared in The Age on November 9. Neighbour (2005: 3), in a news article written for The Australian, reported that the men arrested were radicalized and trained in the ideology of jihad. Neighbour (2005: 3) argued that training in military style camps for jihad was a rite of passage before 9/11; in the post-9/11 world it amounted to an admission of guilt. Even those who had attended and left these camps prior to 9/11, before it was illegal, have been held to account for their actions in the aftermath. I argue that the frequent references to 9/11 when reporting the arrest of terror suspects in Melbourne and Sydney demonstrated again how contemporary terrorism was used as a referent that was rejuvenated, reconstituted and reanimated through the latest terror scare.

Walters (2005: 5) writing in the same issue of The Australian, argued that ‘The biggest counter-terrorist operation in Australia’s history has shown just how far the security agencies have evolved since September 11, 2001’. Walters (2005: 5) argued that 9/11 served as a wake-up call for intelligence and policing agencies. Writing in The Age, Gordon (2005: 4) argued that Australian Prime Minister John Howard was seeing Australia through a difficult time just as he promised in the aftermath of 9/11. I argue that this is a problematic link that Gordon forges between the anti-terror raids and 9/11. His doing so is further evidence of antecedent acts of terrorism mundanely and routinely appearing in journalistic spaces reporting the latest terror scare. An editorial in The Australian explained to readers that there was ‘no doubting’ that terrorism posed a significant threat to Australia (Editor – The Australian, 2005: 17). Emotive terminology was used in this editorial to frame terrorism raids in Sydney and Melbourne in such a way as to invoke memories of 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7. The editor of The Australian argued that the ‘price of life and liberty’ was ‘eternal vigilance’ and that this was ‘crystal clear’ when thinking about the meaning of the anti-terror raids in Melbourne and Sydney. More problematically the editor proclaimed: ‘Australian cities are on the front line in the worldwide war on terror’ (Editor – The Australian, 2005: 17). While reminding readers that it is for the courts to decide the guilt of the 16 accused, the editor asserted that the arrests – described as ‘a frightening affair’ – confirmed what ‘sensible citizens have known we faced since September 11, 2001’ (Editor – The Australia, 2005: 17). The editor of The Australian added that terrorism will ‘probably’ occur in an Australian city and that such an event would transform Melburnians and Australians from distant witnesses to near witnesses. It would seem that the editor in The Australian believed that the images of 9/11 marked a dawn in a new era of spectacular terrorism:

The editor of The Australian suggested that, if a terrorist attack was to occur in Australia, terrorists may target ferries in Sydney, trams in Melbourne, shopping malls, and spaces in and around sporting events in cities and towns – vital coordinates of living and working in Australia’s two largest and most populated cities. The editor of The Australian stressed that the people who hate us live among us and therefore civil liberties needed to be set aside to find these people, and that criticism of government and the police must be restrained. It was, in the opinion of the editor of The Australian, the only way to prevent terrorism occurring in an Australian city. Readers were implored not to forget that people ‘in cities around the world have been slaughtered in terror attacks’ (Editor – The Australian, 2005: 17).

An editorial in the Financial Review on 9 November strongly supported the arrest of terror suspects: ‘If half of what is alleged sticks, no one will now be able to deny that the nightmare of home-grown terrorism has arrived in Australia’ (Editor – Financial Review, 2005: 62). The editor of the Financial Review described people in Australian cities as lucky: despite watching 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7 and two attacks in Bali on television, Australia remained ‘terrorism’ free. The Sydney Morning Herald’s editor wrote that the terror arrests show that terrorism can be ‘grown’ in Australia (Editor – The Sydney Morning Herald, 2005: 16). The editor added that it was equally concerning that the arrests were stage managed with media crews present during the dawn raids that ensured spectacular televisual footage was captured.

An op-ed by Andrew Bolt in the Herald Sun on 9 November described the arrests as a ‘wake-up call’ that terrorism posed a real threat to Australian cities (Bolt, 2005b: 23). Bolt invoked imagery of Madrid and London and declared that people in Australia could be ‘blown up’ by Islamic extremists, and described scenes of Muslim rioting and violence in Europe that he argued could soon be seen in Australia. This is because, Bolt (2005b: 23) argued, many Muslim immigrants to Australia have been conditioned by an ‘archaic and even fossilized culture’ (Bolt, 2005b: 23).

Australian newspapers on 10 November contained more news articles, opinion editorials, and letters to the editor that discussed the anti-terror raids. In The Australian, Stewart (2005: 1) reported that there have been close links discovered between Islamic prayer rooms and the terror cells that have been exposed by the anti-terror raids. Stewart (2005: 1) argued that some with links to this prayer room believed that 9/11 was a conspiracy of the West and that Osama bin Laden was a good man. In another article in The Australian, Gosch and Makin (2005: 5) argued that some people who lived near the houses that were raided during the anti-terror raids were traumatized and had developed sleeping difficulties. In The Age, Nicholson and Grattan (2005: 4) argued that Muslim leaders were pleading with the government to clamp down on potential ‘rednecks’ and vigilantes who may seek reprisal and attack people perceived to be Muslim.

The headline on the front page of the Herald Sun read: ‘Terror Alarm On Map’ (Hunt et al. 2005: 1). According to Hunt et al. (2005: 1): ‘A Melbourne office tower housing many hundreds of public servants was among the possible targets of an alleged terror plot foiled by raids this week’. The police and security agencies that conducted the anti-terror raids uncovered a potential plan to target a tall building in Melbourne. The coverage in the Herald Sun continued on page four with a powerful image of two Muslim women – the wives of accused terrorists detained in the raids – dressed in traditional Islamic clothing (Hargest, 2005: 5). The eyes of only one of the women could be seen: they are otherwise completely covered by clothing. The picture was large, prominent, and in colour. Below the picture is an article where political and religious leaders appealed for calm: after the anti-terror raids were reported in the media over 200 tip-offs on the identity of potential terrorists were received by the national security hotline (Frenkel, 2005: 5). Australia’s Prime Minister, John Howard, is quoted in Frenkel’s (2005: 5) article arguing that only radical elements within Muslim communities were responsible for the threat of terrorism in Australia. He called for calm and warned members of the public against attempting vigilante-style reprisals against Muslims. A Muslim leader urged the government to be ready to prevent ‘rednecks’ from attacking Muslims and creating ‘disharmony’ (Frenkel, 2005: 5). On page seven of the Herald Sun there was an article about one of the terror suspects, Omar Baladjam, who had once appeared on one of Australia’s most popular television soap operas, Home and Away (Saleh et al., 2005: 7).

Neil Mitchell wrote an op-ed in the Herald Sun on 10 November. His topic was the unruly behaviour exhibited by supporters of the arrested terror suspects out the front of a Melbourne court (Mitchell, 2005b: 23). He argued: ‘Hatred erupted on the streets of Melbourne this week, and God help us if what we saw in the eyes of several angry men was a glimpse of the future’ (Mitchell, 2005b: 23). Mitchell (2005b: 23) was also critical of the New South Wales Police who had tipped off the media hours before the raids commenced. Australians were able to watch the footage on the morning and evening television news. Mitchell (2005b: 23) argued that terrorism represented not only the threat of violence. He argued that it represented a threat to the preservation of democratic values: ‘We must accept that people are frightened and nervous. That is reasonable. They have, after all, been told they were targets in a holy war. But also under threat is the way we work in a crisis. It is the process of democracy and justice that is under pressure here’ (Mitchell, 2005b: 23). In the Herald Sun an op-ed by Malcolm Thomas (2005: 23), president of the Islamic Council of Victoria, argued: ‘…in these days of fear and terrorism, it is getting harder to discern legal facts from political spin’. He questioned the need for the more restrictive anti-terrorism legislation when the present arrests were carried out under existing laws. Thomas (2005) also expressed concern over the possibility of retribution attacks being carried out against Muslims in the community following the anti-terror raids. To people who held animosity towards Muslims during this apparent terrorist threat, Thomas (2005: 23) offered the following warning: ‘Those in the broader community who claim all Muslims are terrorists are themselves full of hate, and the perpetuation of the same is in itself a form of terrorism’.

Two Liberal Party parliamentarians – Greg Hunt and Jason Wood – also discussed the anti-terror raids in the Herald Sun. They argued that the anti-terror raids in Sydney and Melbourne were proof of a direct threat that had existed since 9/11. Hunt and Wood (2005: 22) argued that ‘The fact an alleged plot may have involved’ chemical agents is a terrifying scenario (my emphasis). I highlight this use of language as an example of what I argue is a bizarre and politically charged turn of phrase. I suggest that the op-ed by Hunt and Wood (2005: 22) represented a tabloid style of writing that is designed to be sensational and spectacular. Hugh White prepared op-eds on 10 November for both The Age and The Sydney Morning Herald. White (2005a: 15) in The Age established early in his op-ed that 9/11 was the referent for the anti-terror raids: ‘In the four long years since September 11, 2001, we in Australia, like people all over the world, have been trying to get the problem of terrorism into perspective’. Much like the reporting of the Bali bombing, reporting of the anti-terror raids rejuvenated, reconstituted, and reanimated 9/11 in journalistic spaces. According to White (2005a: 15), terrorism at the time of the raids had become a permanent spectre that many struggled to understand and the anti-terror raids made the challenge of understanding terrorists in our midst more difficult to fathom. White (2005a: 15) argued that terrorism had become increasingly familiar since 9/11 to witnesses in Australia. Therefore, the anti-terror raids, while shocking, should perhaps not be surprising. The Australian Security Intelligence Organization’s director had previously warned that a terrorist attack in Australia was inevitable and that this inevitable attack would just as likely be carried out by an Australian as by a foreigner. The anti-terror raids were therefore a ‘grim confirmation’ of what was already known and not a startling new threat (White, 2005a: 15). I suggest that White’s argument frames the anti-terror raids as a mundane and routine occurrence. It was, in White’s opinion, nothing new. White (2005a: 15) believed that ongoing threats of terrorism did not represent a fundamental threat to democratic governance or our way of life. The op-ed in The Age was essentially the same op-ed that he prepared for The Sydney Morning Herald (White, 2005b: 11).

Letter Writing in an Age of (Anti)Terror

These ‘attacks’ were anti-terror in the most literal sense. There was simply no terroristic violence – only a spectacular, media-generated terror where the only violence was the dawn barrage perpetrated by the police against Australian Muslims who may or may not be guilty. The courts were supposed to decide, but it was the audience of witnesses and victims living and working in Australia’s cities that confirmed that terror would be the result.

In the Herald Sun, of November 9, D.J. Fraser argued that people of Middle Eastern origin are being targeted as potential terrorists in the Australian community. Stuart Davies in the Herald Sun believed that the terror raids had demonstrated that Australian Prime Minister John Howard’s strength was in going ‘against popular opinion’ when it is the right thing to do (Herald Sun, 2005h: 18). Stuart Davies argued that the anti-terror raids represented such an occasion. In contrast, Red Bingham in the Herald Sun argued that witnesses should not allow their perceptions to be persuaded by ‘professional panic merchants’ (Herald Sun, 2005h: 18). In The Age a letter from Troy Cox congratulated the policing and intelligence agencies for their ‘successful counter-terrorism raids’ (The Age, 2005d: 18). Diana Fitzgerald believed that the raids were a political and media stunt designed to gain support for government policy, improve television ratings and sell newspapers. I suggest that the commodification of terrorism was what Diana Fitzgerald was witnessing and reflecting upon. The terror raids that were witnessed first-hand by members of the media – who had been tipped off in advance – meant that others were able to witness the anti-terror raids by watching television and reading newspapers. The result is a better quality commodity of terrorism: the media were not reporting secondhand information as they were present even as the dawn raids were occurring.

It is evident that the letters to the editor in Australia’s major newspapers represented polarized opinions on what the anti-terror raids meant. Some believed that the anti-terror raids were media stunts designed to affirm the need for strict anti-terror laws, while others believed that the anti-terror raids had proved that the laws were necessary and that terrorism truly posed a serious threat to Australian cities. This polarization was most effectively displayed in the letters to the editor section of The Australian. Ellis Hopper pleaded in The Australian: ‘protect me and my family’s human right not to be blown up’ while Lachlan Gardner argued that ‘The fundamental freedoms that have made our country the greatest place in the world to live are under attack, not by terrorists but by politicians’ (The Australian, 2005c: 17).

Letters to the editor in Australia’s major newspapers on 10 November offered intense commentary on the anti-terror raids. In the Herald Sun, Paul Jeffrey argued that during terror scares: ‘All Australians, regardless of religion, race or creed, should realise that only an extremely small portion of the population supports terrorism’ (Herald Sun, 2005i: 20). Paul Jeffrey explained that not all Catholics should be considered to have a propensity towards terrorism because of the IRA, and nor should Muslims be considered to have a propensity towards terrorism because members of al-Qaeda are Muslims. Glenn Darcy in the Herald Sun told the emotive tale of his 10-year-old boy who was scared to go to school for fear of being ‘blown up’. He is reminded of how living in Australia is now synonymous with fear and suspicion. Two other letters praised Australian Prime Minister John Howard for the anti-terror raids and condemned ‘Greens, Democrats, bleeding hearts, do-gooders, Left-leaning government haters’ who opposed strict anti-terror legislation (Herald Sun, 2005i: 20). In The Age, Michael Larkin argued that the media representation of the anti-terror raids had reinforced negative stereotypes about Muslims. In The Age Ben Coleman saw no problem with targeting Muslims with anti-terror laws (The Age, 2005e: 14). He argued that recent acts of terrorism have been perpetrated by Muslims so targeting Muslims is perhaps appropriate. Les Hawken discussed, in the same paper, an attack on a cameraman outside a Melbourne court by supporters of the accused terrorists. He believed it created a damaging image of Muslims in Australia.

A group of letters in The Age questioned why the media were informed of the place, date and time of the anti-terror raids before they occurred. I suggest that it should be of little surprise that a media spectacle, a simulated event of the highest order, would be choreographed and synchronized in this way. I argue that something of the same order occurred on 9/11 as the world’s television networks took only a few moments to point cameras at the burning Towers in Manhattan and amateur film-makers were already filming when the first plane struck. In a post 9/11, digitally enhanced environment amateur film-makers are always ready, always tipped off: a terrorist attack can occur at any place at any time. As Weimann and Winn (1994) have argued, the camera is like a weapon that anyone can pick up and use.

The guilt or innocence of those who were arrested is not the most pressing concern. Guilt or innocence and truth or falsity I would argue have little meaning in an exploration of a carefully constructed spectacle that unfolds live on television screens in real time. Guilt or innocence and truth or falsity become inconsequential to the power of the images of the accused that shock and terrify. As I suggested in Chapter 1, when it comes to hyperreality, seeing is believing. To be found not guilty in Australian courts would not absolve the terror suspects from their complicity in terrorism as spectacle – their image guilt. I suggest that this complicity extends to witnesses of terrorism and to these letter writers who construct the spectacle they are subject to: the spectacle of terrorism that I have argued is far from spectacular. Much the same, I suggest, happened on 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7: al-Qaeda were accused and convicted by images even though no court proceedings have been brought against this organization. When the terrorist event is filmed there is no such thing as an innocent terrorist. I argue that this is why the media were invited to the terror raids.

John Colville argued in a letter to The Age (2005e: 14) that a concern far greater than the terrorist threat was:

And Greg Barron in a letter to The Age (2005e: 14) added to this debate:

Dave Davis argued in his letter to The Age that the arrests were a media event masquerading as a counter-terrorism operation. He questioned why the anti-terror raids did not have to be conducted in secrecy but the court cases, for the most part, did. It must be puzzling for some that while witnesses were allowed to watch the terror raids on news programmes throughout Australia they were not initially permitted to know what the accused were charged with or what exactly they were allegedly planning.

Just as there were those who questioned the constructed spectacle surrounding the anti-terror raids there were others who wrote letters to the editors of Australia’s major newspapers who argued that the anti-terror raids could only be seen as effective policing that thwarted a potentially devastating terrorist act. As Andrew Gibb exclaimed in his letter to The Age: ‘What the hell is wrong with you people?’ (The Age, 2005e: 14). He argued that there ‘appears’ to be ‘no doubt’ that terrorism posed an immediate threat to Australian cities. James Forsyth added that: ‘It flied (sic) in the face of common sense to deny the evidence of intention to terrorise that has been uncovered’ (The Age, 2005e: 14). John Dorman, again in The Age, argued that he had seen proof that ‘an imminent disaster’ had been averted. And Alan Inchley in his letter to The Age called for an apology to be made to John Howard who was criticized when he said that Australia needed new anti-terror laws: his argument was that we now had proof that they were needed and that the threat of terrorism was real.

Ian Semmel observed in The Australian that footage of the anti-terror raids was accompanied by images of the London bombings (The Australian, 2005d: 13). Adriana Maxwell commented in her letter to The Australian that the arrested men were already being discussed as guilty terrorists: being arrested on television was for Adriana Maxwell a clear sign of their guilt. I suggest that since the goal of terrorists is to create fear in an audience then these terror suspects are surely guilty as charged: the hyperreality of terrorism cannot be disproved by appealing to some kind of truth when images are laid bare for witnesses to see – once again, seeing is believing. It is as Max Wilkinson wrote to The Age: ‘ASIO has a secret raid at 2.30am and they took their television cameras’. Andrew Raivars added in his letter to The Age: ‘It’s so difficult these days to tell a foiled terrorism plot from a successful government one’ (The Age, 2005f: 14). I would like the final say in this analysis to be made by Michael Burb in his letter to The Age. This letter in its simple yet profound entirety reads: ‘New York, Tel Aviv, Bali, Madrid, London, Sydney, Melbourne’ (The Age, 2005f: 14).

A City Whose Terrible Future Has Just Arrived?

South Park is a crudely drawn cartoon series created by Matt Stone and Trey Parker that is well known for its political satire and cutting-edge social commentary on terrorism, war, celebrities and religion. In one episode of South Park groups of anti- and pro-war protesters confront each other on the streets and sing anti- and pro-war songs. One of the pro-war activists in South Park, a regular character named Skeeter, plays his guitar and sings this song to the crowd with a country and western twang:

Australian journalists writing for some of the nation’s major newspapers certainly did not forget and I have attempted to show how, during times of terror, other acts of terrorism are routinely and mundanely rejuvenated in the guise of the latest terror scare. I argue that it will be possible for all terror scares to reanimate 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7. The journalistic spaces that I have just explored are similarly explored by other distant witnesses: for many it is a daily routine. I spoke to some of these witnesses and victims – they are working people in Melbourne during a time of terror. I tell their stories in Chapters 5 and 6. A key characteristic of the attacks that I have discussed in this chapter is that they were not attacks that had occured in an Australia. These moments of terror are surely nothing like 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7. Nothing exploded and no-one in Australia died. Terrorism can be avoided by not holidaying in Bali and through the spectacular efforts of Australia’s law enforcement agencies. There can perhaps be no tribute and no defiance. While it has become part of the vulnerable and precarious life-worlds of distant witnesses in Melbourne I suggest that the incorporation of terrorism into everyday life and work in the city – even a city like Melbourne that is untouched by terrorism – is testament to the power of terrorism to generate victims and witnesses even large distances from where terrorism occurs. The explosions may have been in New York, Washington DC, Bali, Madrid, London and Bali again, but they are felt in every city, by every worker, in every organization, by every victim all over the world.

Terrorism is produced and reproduced in journalistic spaces in different configurations of time and space as an event, a scene and a spectacle. It is the ‘incessant hum’ (Pickering, 2005: 52) of terrorism reporting that reanimates 9/11 and positions it as a referent for understanding the latest terror scare. This reporting is mundane, routine, everyday and banal and I argue that this is most evident during intense coverage of terrorism events. The events I chose for closer examination were the 1 October 2005 Bali bombings and the 8 November 2005 anti-terrorism raids in Sydney and Melbourne. These incidences of terrorism as spectacle were far from spectacular. They were obscene, parodic and theatrical: more and more words were used to produce less and less meaning. These news articles, opinion editorials, and letters to the editor are now artefacts in the black museum of journalism. It is a museum where the simulations are life-like and real, yet on closer inspection are empty and devoid of meaning. They are mundane, routine and banal, obscene and superficial.

This newspaper spectacle – the mundane hum of terrorism reporting – displays terrorism through its referential image-events: 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7. It offers contemporary terrorism as a commodity that can be consumed by witnesses and victims across multiple configurations of time and space. Working in the city animates these configurations with real world deadlines, commutes, business meetings and everyday life. I explore this coexistence in Chapters 5 and 6. I intend to suggest that working people in cities watch television and read newspaper reports of the latest terror scare as they did on 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7. These witnesses and victims experience fear and dread as a consequence. I suggested in Chapter 1 that terrorism is also routinely reanimated in Hollywood films from The Matrix and Night at the Museum to World Trade Centre. Terrorism continues to be witnessed again and again and working people in cities can be forgiven for thinking that they are living in a perpetual state of déjà vu.

Baudrillard’s (1988: 30–31) analysis of an exhibit in the Beaubourg is illustrative here. The exhibit depicted naked, life-like sculptures in everyday and banal positions. Intrigued, witnesses examined the exhibit at increasingly close proximities, certain that there must be something more to the mundane scene they witnessed. The closer to the exhibit that one gets, the more one is forced to face the fact that there simply is nothing more to see. Baudrillard (1988: 30) argued that such everydayness has a stupefying effect on audiences. The need to respond, understand and to speak even with nothing to say can be overwhelming. Letters to the editor in these moments of terrorism as spectacle are testament to the need to speak. As with the exhibit at Beaubourg, on close inspection and with expectations that more will be revealed up close, the media image, and the banal and everyday reporting of the latest terror scare, reveals that there is nothing more to reveal. It is plain, mundane, bare, repetitive, and monotonous. I suggest that if subsequent terror scares did not reanimate 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7 they would have scarcely any meaning at all. In the black museum of journalism, contemporary terrorism appears in a variety of guises: artefacts that represent events across time and space.

The Everydayness of Terror News

Kellner (2005) argues that media spectacles have emerged in new and ‘novel’ locations and spaces. Some of these are found on the internet, although the print media and daily newspapers in particular offer a similarly effective channel for producing witnesses. Terrorism, like pornography, possesses this witness-producing capability, and the images, imagery and reanimation of terrorism in newspaper reporting moulds well with the fascination with televisual images of 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7. As Nunn (2006) argues, images of these attacks have made terrorism the ‘boogeyman of the 21^st Century’ where living in fear is replaced by seeking the next terrorist, identifying the next targeted location and theorizing how terrorism will next occur: ‘there is only one way to assuage our fears of sudden, brutal terrorist attacks: convince us that we will always uncover the conspiracies before the explosion, always know who the perpetrators are before they act, always stay one step ahead of them, always arrest them before the carnage’ (Nunn, 2006). Moreover, witnessing images of contemporary terrorism has injected the mundane hum of terrorism reporting with sinister and cataclysmic undertones where each reported act of terrorism is given invigorated meaning by reference to 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7. As the navigation of journalistic spaces and letters to the editor sections provide the public with opportunities to interact with the spectacle of terrorism, newspapers become the platform for interaction and exchange between audiences, reporters, experts and opinion writers, readers and letter-writers. This exchange in journalistic space makes witnesses subject to the spectacle of terrorism that they help create. In Debord‘s (1983: §44) view the discourse of the spectacle amounts to a ‘permanent opium war’ – a numbing, banal and meaningless exchange of images, opinions and ‘information’. This permanent war is, I argue, characteristic of the mundane hum of banal terrorism reporting – the artefacts of this hum are to be found in the black museum of journalism.

The Black Museum of Journalism

The word museum has often enjoyed positive connotations. With the phrase ‘the black museum of journalism’ (Virilio, 2002: 23) I intend to suggest that this should not always be the case. In the black museum of journalism, terrorism is a signpost in an emerging understanding of journalistic spaces in which more information flows faster to more people with less and less meaning. It has been a central argument of this book that it was a goal of the 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7 terrorists to affect a population of witnesses beyond the initial victims, and journalism’s black museum bears witness and memory to the space provided for terrorism to wield significant powers to terrify audiences in distant cities. Terrorism was reported as it was occurring through round-the-clock, real-time television reporting. McNair (2006: 7) has argued that the use of such real-time feeds has been one of the most important developments in the immediacy of news reporting as it has allowed witnesses to navigate new spaces of spectacular journalism as they arise. This has had the effect of dissolving ‘the physical and temporal distances that had separated people in one country from those in another’ (McNair, 2006: 7).

I argue that the city is used as a stage for the black museum of journalism. City dwelling witnesses and victims view this museum routinely and sometimes participate in the interactive production of artefacts. I suggest that this is the stage for the theatre of terrorism, a theatre that represents both the spectacular image and routine, mundane, and everyday life. The spectacle, according to Baudrillard (1987a: 21), ‘is never obscene’. Rather ‘Obscenity begins where there is no more spectacle, no more stage, no more theatre, no more illusion, when every-thing becomes immediately transparent, visible, exposed in the raw and inexorable light of information and communication’ (Baudrillard, 1987a: 21–22). This obscenity, I argue, can be seen in the mundane hum of terrorism reporting in Australia’s major newspapers following the Bali bombings and the anti-terror raids. Journalistic spaces come to embody the ‘forced’ and ‘exaggerated’ (Baudrillard, 1987a: 21) reporting of terrorist events. Reporting of the latest terror scare can have a stupefying effect that entices witnesses to a closer examination as it did for witnesses in Baudrillard’s story of the exhibit in the Beaubourg. This close-up view of terrorism images and imagery is too close.

Today’s terrorism can be seen in the all-too-close – ‘more-visible-than-visible’ (Baudrillard, 1987a: 22) – newspaper media. When newspaper reports are at their most superficial, and when information is laid bare free from any need to interpret or understand because it is so objectively apparent, this is when the spectacle is at its most mundane. This is the black museum of journalism. A night in this museum uncovers a world that was never hidden, where 9/11 is reanimated in the latest terror scare so that it ‘keeps exploding in people’s minds’ (Virilio, 2002: 22) and newspapers are sold in greater quantities. The black museum of journalism can in this way be seen to be feeding the commodification and branding of terrorism.

Conclusion

Understanding the black museum of journalism is crucial for understanding the consequences of terrorism for working people and businesses. In this chapter I have presented information that situates city-dwelling witnesses and victims of terrorism within a landscape of sensational and spectacular media images and discourses. I have analyzed information drawn from major Australian newspapers at crucial moments following terrorism events: the 1 October Bali bombings and the 8 November anti-terror raids, both occurring in 2005. This analysis had three purposes: to demonstrate the workings of simulations and hyperreality; to frame and contextualize the stories of the distant witnesses that I explore in Chapters 5 and 6; and to demonstrate that the reporting of spectacular incidences of terrorism is far from spectacular, rather, it is mundane, routine and banal. In moving towards these goals I have attempted to show how other acts of contemporary terrorism are rejuvenated, reconstituted and reanimated in journalistic spaces in which terrorism is reported. This is the black museum of journalism. This black museum makes the city a stage beneath which witnesses and victims can be in the audience of the theatre of terrorism.

The world of images, the world that was originally intended to describe something real, is now better than the real: it is hyperreal. It is not, however, a detraction, degeneration, or disintegration of the real. Quite the contrary: it is far better. Reality can be seen as a kind of bonus added to the reported event. In this way I argue that hyperreality is the event and the reporters, opinion writers, letter-writers and readers create the world that they simulate. As Baudrillard (1994: 1–2) argued:

In a sense, following Baudrillard, the media reporting precedes terrorism for the witness and the victim. Terrorism is often first encountered in media spaces. I argue that this is inescapable. I am not suggesting that somehow the journalistic spaces were filled with terror reporting before the terrorist event occurred. But I am suggesting that in many instances journalists will be there witnessing terrorist events as they unfold and will pass their firsthand information on to audiences. Witnesses did not need this service on 9/11 as it was occurring live on television. But because witnesses did have real-time terrorism on 9/11 I suggest that it is now craved. It is craved because it improves the reality of the image – it makes the image feel more real if witnesses can watch events as they are occurring.

Here, the mundane hum of terrorism reporting represents deep anxiety for precarious and vulnerable people living and working in the city. One could go to Ground Zero in New York and see the hole in the ground where the Twin Towers once stood as confirmation that 9/11 was real but one can never return to that date or to the event – it exists now only as images and imagery. Attempts to reanimate the reality of 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7 are evident in newspaper reporting in Australia’s major newspapers during the latest terror scare. Compared to the spectacular terrorism on these dates, these events are mundane. Yet they now hang in the galleries of the black museum of journalism. If they seem to come to life, as the museum artefacts did in the movie Night at the Museum, it is only to confirm their hyperreality and to remind us that the image is not real. But of course! And now that I think about it I never thought it was! Terror reporting in the critical moments following the 1 October 2005 Bali bombings and the 8 November 2005 anti-terror raids reanimated 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7 and invoked their images to explain these less spectacular terror scares. People living and working in cities read newspaper reanimations of terrorism in these moments. These reanimations encourage witnesses to recollect images of terrorism. I argue that this can be seen through stories told by working people situated in Melbourne. It is to these stories that we now turn.