Conceptual Foundations of International Politics: that’s the class I was trying to concentrate in on a gloriously sunny Tuesday morning, 20 years ago in upper Manhattan. In a small, windowless classroom, the professor droned on about the hegemonic world order. One of my classmates was fidgeting with his phone, and brusquely ran out of the room. Five minutes later, he slunk back in, ashen-faced, and took his seat. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he stuttered. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but something has happened that I think is relevant to our discussion here. A plane has crashed into the World Trade Center. I’m not sure what’s going on.”
We all rush out of the classroom to congregate around the TVs in the lounge, students from all over the world, hands over mouths, sharp intakes of breath and shrieks as the second tower crumbles. We have no idea what this all means.
I spot a friend. “Happy birthday, my dear. Erm, I suppose we’re no longer going to get drinks later?” The words feel churlish as soon as they leave my mouth. Luckily, she gives me an understanding smile.
