On November 19, 2001, the Transportation Security Administration (TSA) was created with the passing of the Aviation and Transportation Security Act in response to the attacks on 9/11. TSA was tasked with preventing attacks like those on September 11th from happening again. Over the years, TSA has released a plethora of slogans and respective media ranging from “See something, say something” to “Don’t let our planes get into the wrong hands”. While each of these pieces of TSA rhetoric have had varying success and receptions, none have met as much of a mixed reaction as the TSA’s “Remember how it felt to feel safe?” posters. These posters utilize the sense of nostalgia of life before 9/11, societal commonplaces concerning the safety of children, and asyndeton to implore that air travelers play a central role in contributing to not only their safety, but the safety of those around them as well.

When looking at the poster, one of the first sections of text which catches the eye is the dark text in the top right corner which says, “Remember how it felt to feel safe?” After the attacks on 9/11, an emphasis was placed on not only ensuring the United States’ safety, but ensuring that public opinion reflected the belief of a safe United States. However, according to a NPR/PBS NewsHour/Marist Poll, 44% of polled adults believe that America is less safer now (in 2021) than before 9/11. The poster acts upon this general distrust of national security (especially in the face of terrorism) by asking a rhetorical question. While making the assumption that the observer was born before the 9/11 attacks, these posters invite the observer to consider the commonplaces of safety and general innocence that existed in the United States before the 9/11 attacks. In addition to the poster’s direct invitation to think back to “how it felt to feel safe,” there is a clear juxtaposition made on the poster to aid the observer’s “nostalgic journey” to a time before 9/11. On the left side of a poster is an extremely large, black and white photo depicting a little girl reciting the pled of allegiance. To the right are two color pictures of children wrapped in American flags, inviting the observer to consider their childhood in comparison to their child(ren)’s. These comparisons usher a sense of responsibility for older observers to ensure that their children (and younger generations) can experience the same feeling of safety and innocence as well.

While on the topic of the images depicted on the poster itself, it’s important to note the ways in which the TSA utilizes commonplaces relating to the safety and innocence of children. In addition to the juxtaposition between the pictures discussed in the previous paragraph, there is a distinct focus on children and the American flag in the pictures themselves. In the large photo on the left of the poster, there is an old, black and white photo of a young girl in front of the American flag. In the two smaller photos on the right of the poster, there are more-recent, colored images of children wrapped in the American flag. Throughout human history, it has been a commonplace to care for the young and to ensure that children are kept safe. The TSA utilizes this commonplace to create a sense of conviction within the air traveler to do what they can to ensure that today’s children can grow up in a safe world. In addition, the incorporation of the American flag into the images directly ties the maintenance of the safety of today’s children with patriotism. Specifically, for the two smaller images on the right of the poster, the children are quite literally entangled in the American flag, implying that it is patriotic for one to “Be Smart [and] . . . . Vigilant.” In the line of the concept of patriotism and civic duty, the poster itself even implores that travelers make maintaining the safety in airports “a personal challenge.” While the decision by the TSA to include these images of “patriotic children” on the poster received backlash for seeming too much like propaganda, the images paired with the text create an otherwise powerful call to action for air travelers to be smart and vigilant at all times in the airport, especially in the interest of maintaining airport safety.

While the striking visual aspects of the poster elicit strong emotions (either in the favor of or against the poster), the portions of text on the poster make unique stylistic choices as well. For one, the TSA makes a distinct use of asyndeton for the text on the poster to develop an imperative tone, as well as to convey only the information that is absolutely necessary. Being a poster that is usually placed in busy, traffic-filled areas, conveying a message to air travelers in the most concise-way possible is extremely necessary. Through the omission of conjunctions and long sentences, observers can understand the TSA’s call to action without having to stop and look at the poster for long periods of time. In addition to delivering the intended message in a concise format, the imperative tone generated by the text on the poster further bolsters the idea that air travelers “don’t have a choice” when it comes to maintaining airport security, rather it is an expectation and a civic duty to ensure that one remains smart and vigilant at all times. The spacing of the text between the two pictures on the right side of the poster divide the text into far more digestible pieces of information. For example, the phrases, “Make it a personal challenge. Be Smart. Be Vigilant,” are separated from each other either by a picture, or by a line break.

In summary, the TSA’s controversial “Remember how it felt to feel safe?” posters utilize commonplaces and nostalgia regarding the public sense of safety before 9/11, invoking societal commonplaces of keeping children safe and patriotism through the use of specific imagery, and employing stylistic writing choices like asyndeton to create a sense of conviction within the air traveler to be vigilant and smart to ensure the safety of everyone in an airport setting. The majority of the controversy stemming from this poster originate in the blatant and unapologetic “propaganda-like” style of the poster, especially the black and white photo of the child and the American flag. While the poster pairs a clever use of commonplaces with subtle stylistic choices and imagery to create a powerful call to action, for many individuals, the poster appears to contribute towards the general distrust for the government and its associated agencies. All in all, the poster delivers the call to action in a clever and easy-to-digest manner, encouraging passing air travelers to stay aware and make wise decisions in the name of everyone’s safety.

 

 

In light of the civic artifact speech assignment and the associated elevator pitches, one civic artifact I found interesting in particular was Gabriel’s choice of “Run, Hide, Fight” posters. Having grown up in an age where shootings and other forms of violence are all too common in America’s schools, these posters can almost be considered a staple of my educational experience.

Examining the rhetorical significance and impact that these posters have is an interesting task, as the posters have distinctly different impacts and responses on different generations of individuals. On one end, students my age have grown up in an environment where schools can no longer be considered as the safest place parents can put their children. As Gabriel put it, we’ve become jaded to the violence and resultant precautions that take place in our schools. Even in our in-class discussions, many students in the class didn’t even realize there were “Run, Hide, Fight” posters in the hallways right outside the classroom. On the other side, however, there is a generation of now working-age adults who remember what schools before mass shootings looked like. In many ways, these “Run, Hide, Fight” posters can be more jarring to these “older generations”.

In terms of breaking down the rhetoric that lies behind these “Run, Hide, Fight” posters, many approaches can be taken––namely looking at the physical characteristics of these signs (colors, fonts, placement, etc.), looking at the intrinsic characteristics that lie behind the message itself (wording, background knowledge, etc.), or even examining the choice of the poster itself, to name a few. Whichever route(s) Gabriel ends up taking, I definitely agree with the decision to use this information to assess how effective the posters themselves are. How effective are the posters? Are they genuinely-useful in an actual scenario, or are they more just background noise? What can schools do to make those signs more effective, or are they already effective as-is? I believe it would be interesting for Gabriel to explore these questions as he dissects the rhetoric behind the posters and/or the phrase itself.

All in all, as many directions as you could go with the “Run, Hide, Fight” posters, one thing remains common: The posters are a stark reminder of the stained world we live in, an embodiment of shootings and violence in today’s schools. The rhetoric itself arises out of the need for schools to educate students how to deal with and survive acts of mass violence while they are in school.

When the topic of 9/11 comes up in conversation, generally the first turn which the conversation takes is recalling the question, “Where were you?” Where were you when you heard about the news? What were you doing? Who were you with? The answers to these questions have been engrained in nearly everyone’s minds for life––at least everyone who was alive at the time.

I, along with many of my peers, fall into the rapidly-growing generation of America that was born after 9/11. When people ask “Where were you when you heard about the news?” or “What were you doing?” I have no story of my own to recount. Rather than relying on my own personal experience and anecdotes to realize the ways in which 9/11 impacted not only me, but also America, I have to rely on the stories of those who were alive at the time, attempting to truly empathize with them by understanding the emotions they experienced.

Unfortunately, these stories can only go so far. While I have been able to understand the gravity of the impacts that 9/11 set into motion, I was never there to experience America before the War on Terror. In his article titled, “Our Children Will Never Know the Innocence We Knew,” Charles M. Blow observes, “My children . . . . don’t remember anything before the war on terror. But from then on, they would face constant reminders of the new and terrifying reality we’d all been thrown into: with moments of silence for those who had died in the attacks, and classmates who had lost parents. For a vast majority of their lives, we have been in wars that grew out of that one day’s attacks.” Blow has an extremely interesting take that describes his children as having to see the consequences of a world they do not remember being changed forever. Being born within two years of the attacks, I find myself in a similar position to Blow’s children.

One very obvious civic artifact that has come out of these attacks is heightened airport security––specifically the “Do not leave bags or items unattended” signs and announcements. The only standard of airport security I’ve known has been the extremely strict TSA regulations that have come as a result of 9/11. The only points of reference I have to America before 9/11 (specifically air travel) rely on anecdotes and articles from those who remember life before the War on Terror. These warnings against abandoning luggage have the be only version of airports I’ve ever known, and as a result, I must rely on others’ accounts to form my own worldview. In alignment with Blow’s observations, I’ve been able to see the consequences the attacks have had on a world that I was not alive to witness myself––the world before the War on Terror.

Normalcy. A word used to describe a state of being that I experienced even before I truly understood what it meant. It was a state of being I was looking forward to getting back into. After all, I would prefer having a “normal college experience” (if there is such a thing) after my senior and junior years of high school were already disrupted by the COVID-19 pandemic. Fortunately, things were looking good, vaccination rates were slowly-increasing, COVID regulations were loosening-up, and it looked like the world was returning to normalcy. But wait — where did this Delta Variant come from?

Although the conversation surrounding COVID-19 and its resurgence sometimes circles around the ways in which communities can work together to combat the spread of this seemingly more-concerning variant, it far more often, like many other matters in today’s world, is dominated by rhetoric from opposing sides (whether those sides are defined by politics, religion, or other ideological differences) which ultimately contort the root of the issue. As much as the existence of the Delta Variant has concerned me and changed the way I look at the idea of “normalcy,” the discourse concerning the Delta Variant, and COVID in general, has concerned me far more. Take the discourse and rhetoric concerning vaccination for example. On one end of the spectrum, there are individuals who have not gotten vaccinated for a plethora of reasons; some due to medical restrictions or underlying health issues, and others due to personal beliefs against the vaccine. On the other end of the spectrum, there are individuals who have gotten vaccinated, and actively implore that their peers do the same. There is an increasingly-evident divide between these two extremes, as there is little communication or true understanding between the two “sides.” Journalist Bryce Covert sums up this divide in her article titled “No, the Unvaccinated Aren’t All Just Being Difficult”, saying, “Many are staunchly opposed to getting it for a variety of reasons, from personal health concerns to conspiracy theories. But that doesn’t describe everyone who is unvaccinated — not by a long shot.” While it is important to breakdown misinformation relating to COVID on both sides of the spectrum, it is increasingly-more important for individuals to engage in constructive rhetorical and cultural discourse.

Another interesting aspect of the COVID-19 pandemic, the Delta Variant in particular, is the ways in which citizenship and civic engagement have been displayed and even altered. Going back to the “spectrum” which exists concerning the vaccination debate, on one end, individuals who choose to be unvaccinated (as a result of anti-vaccination rhetoric) cite their rights to as citizens as valid evidence for their decision to remain unvaccinated. On the other hand, individuals who have gotten vaccinated (and demand that their peers get vaccinated too) cite their duty as citizens to ensure that everyone in their communities are safe. However, as a result of rhetoric concerning vaccination rates, misunderstandings can arise over why certain individuals aren’t vaccinated, furthering the divide between the two ends of the spectrum. In many ways, civic engagement has changed as well as a result of COVID, particularly the ways in which we practice it. On a more obvious note, civil engagement has become increasingly-remote and socially-distanced. However, COVID has encouraged many to become more-active members in their community, especially politically. In a lot of ways, COVID has excavated the underlying juxtapositions that exist in our society, especially when we live in a digital age that’s supposed to make the world more interconnected than ever before, yet sometimes it feels like we’ve never been further from each other. If anything, the COVID-19 pandemic, and the Delta Variant especially, has reminded us that perhaps a “new normalcy” is almost inevitable.