We will never forget 9/11. But it has not shaped us

What happened was huge, but the neocons have gone, and the Middle East and the west are not engaged

9/11 changed nothing. Obviously for the victims, and their families, it changed everything, for ever. But in geopolitical terms it was not a transformative event. The kaleidoscope was not shaken. The pieces never were in flux.

We're not supposed to say that, of course. The tenth anniversary of that appalling day requires appropriate commemoration, and, sadly, fan-fare. As such, it cannot simply be a footnote. It must be nothing less than the frame upon which the 21st century rests.

But the historic vantage point of September 11 is illusory. The fall of the twin towers were nowhere near comparable to the fall of the Berlin Wall. The US invasion of Afghanistan was itself not even as significant as the invasion conducted by the Soviet Union two decades earlier. Bin Laden's killing will not outlast the impact and resonance of the death of figures such as Che Guvera, Steve Biko or Mohamed Bouazizi.

9/11 was the day that was supposed to have re-shaped the United States, transformed the Middle East and irrevocably altered our world. It did none of those things.

In the US we were promised, or threatened with, the dawning of a neo-conservative century. White Anglo-Saxon America would retreat behind a wall of steel, venturing forth occasionally to subjugate the hapless natives with another brutal lesson in shock and awe.

In fact, the neo-conservative century lasted another three years. Then hurricane Katrina tore through New Orleans, followed shortly after by the banking crash, and White Anglo-Saxon America realized you just can't build your walls high enough. Republican war hero John McCain was defeated by a black community activist named Hussein Obama, and Dick Cheney retired to begin work on his memoir In My Time.

Those who predicted change in the Middle East proved more prescient. Just. The toppling of Saddam was supposed to light a beacon of freedom that would illuminate the region. Until we stumbled across the descent into barbarism that was Abu Ghraib.

At the same time, Bush and Blair's reckless adventurism was supposed to have locked west and east into a new dance of death. Then the states of the Arab League gave NATO their blessing to impose a no-fly zone on Colonel Gaddafi, and cheering crowds in Tripoli's Green square celebrated his overthrow by waving the French tricolor.

Yes we have had our glimpse of the Arab spring. But not because of the actions of Khalid Mohammed or Blackwater Security. None of the freedom movements in Tunisia or Egypt or Libya were born on that clear, crisp New York morning.

And whilst much has changed, much has stayed the same. The Palestinians are still without a homeland; the Israelis without security in their own. The richest area of our planet is still ruled by faded monarchies and religious zealots and petty dictators. Their world, and the world of their people, hasn't turned.

Nor, in truth, has ours. The war on terror has touched, but not shaken us. Al-Qaeda have had less lasting impact in Britain than did the IRA, or ETA in Spain, or the Red Brigade in Italy. The fear they instil amongst those who still remember the Stasi is minimal. In Scandinavia, they watch for demons closer to home.

Of course there are tensions. Undercurrents. If you are a Muslim, suspicion and fear are companions. But the fact is those tensions have always been present. Thirty years ago, the signs read: "No dogs, no blacks, no Irish". Today, Muslims and asylum seekers would take their place. Except today, even after 9/11, such signs would be illegal.

Despite the apocalyptic premonitions, we do not live in a constant stage of siege. There are no bomb detectors at our tube stations, or five hour check-ins for our flights. There is a new terrorist hot-line, but hardly any of us have ever called it. Attempts to extend detention without trial have been, and gone.

Inevitably there have been those who have attempted to build a legacy out of the horrors of the previous decade. Nick Griffin was one, until last week, when the bailiffs arrived to repossess his Skoda. His party will soon follow.

Another was Stephen Lennon of the EDL, but his members can no longer march, and he can't walk the streets of his own city unless he is in disguise. Islam4UK never did make it down to Wootton Bassett, or to Luton, where the local Muslim community leaders informed them there presence wasn't welcome.

None of this is to diminish the enormity of what happened ten years ago this September. Or belittle the suffering of those who were directly involved, or touched by its aftermath.

But the neocons have gone. The Middle East and the west are not engaged in a new holy war. Repression and authoritarianism have not cast a long shadow over our society.

9/11 was a day none of us will ever forget. But it has not shaped us. The kaleidoscope still sits, and waits.

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“Journalists are too scared to come”: Refugees on the forgotten war in Yemen

Only the few who have managed to flee the war-torn country can reveal the suffering of those left behind.

Last weekend’s BBC Our World report on the humanitarian crisis caused by the Yemen civil war highlighted that not only is the conflict a forgotten war, it is also an unknown war. Since war broke out 18 months ago in March 2015, surprisingly little has been written about the conflict, despite its similarity to ongoing and widely-reported other conflicts in the region, such as the Syrian crisis.

The main conflict in Yemen is taking place between forces allied to the President, Abdrabbuh Mansour Hadi, and those loyal to Zaidi Shia rebels known as Houthis, who forced Hadi to flee the capital city Sana’a in February. The loyalties of Yemen’s security forces are split, with some units backing President Hadi and others his predecessor Ali Abdullah Saleh, who is seen as the leader of the Houthi forces.

While these two forces have been at war, separate terrorist groups have been gaining more and more influence on the ground. Opposed by both the Houthis and Hadi’s forces, al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP) have staged deadly attacks from strongholds in the south and south-east. They are also opposed by Islamic State, which has claimed responsibility for a number of suicide bombings in Sana’a.

After rebel forces closed in on the president's southern stronghold of Aden in late March, a coalition led by Saudi Arabia responded to a request by Hadi to intervene and launched air strikes on Houthi targets.

I have spent the last couple of months working in the “Jungle” refugee camp in Calais, home to refugees from Sudan, Afghanistan, Syria, Iraq, Eritrea, Somalia – to name just a few. Having heard very little about the civil war, I was surprised to meet a handful of Yemeni men living inside the camp.

Hussein*, 28, is a film producer and dancer from Yemen who fled the country two years ago and has travelled through 11 countries to reach the Calais camp, where he has been living for just over a month. In a mixture of English and French, he tells me how groups of Houthi militia forcibly try to confiscate cameras and notebooks from both local and international journalists. He knows local journalists, friends of his, who have been threatened, tortured and even killed by Houthi forces.

He pulls out his phone and shows me a picture of his friend, Mohammed, who worked as a photojournalist, documenting brutality as a result of the war. Mohammed’s friends and family have not heard from him since April; the best-case scenario is that he is being detained, but Hussein seems pretty certain that he is dead. As a result, many who otherwise would have reported on the conflict have fled from besieged cities such as Sana’a, Aden and Taiz to the relative safety of the countryside in the north of the country, or have left Yemen altogether.

His friend Jamil, with whom he shares a tent, adds: “from other countries journalists [they are] too scared to come”. He claims that there are only “five or seven” foreign journalists in the capital city, Sana’a and tells me about journalists from the UK, France and the US who, after spending days being held up by countless militarised checkpoints while trying to reach the main cities, are then interrogated and detained by Houthi forces. If they are let go, they are harassed throughout their visit by National Security officers.

After watching his mother die during an airstrike in the city of Hodaida in January, Jamil took the decision to flee Yemen and claim asylum in Europe. He is worried about his father and his friends who are still in Yemen, especially after hearing reports that random border closures and cancelled domestic flights have been preventing crucial aid convoys of food, medical supplies and trained aid workers from accessing the citizens who are desperately in need of humanitarian assistance. Jamil reminds me that Yemen was in economic crisis even before war broke out, with widespread famine and limited access to healthcare or clean water.

Movement within the country is restricted and dangerous, and in the last twelve months alone, four Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) facilities have been attacked and destroyed by airstrikes. Writing on 15 September 15, MSF head of mission in Yemen, Hassan Bouceninem spoke of:

“Other health centers, schools, markets, bridges . . . [that] have been attacked and destroyed by airstrikes, shelling, or bombs. Such attacks create direct victims but the war (economic failure, access problems, closing of hospitals, no health staff etc.) also causes a lot of indirect victims within the population.”

Such widespread instability and the resultant lack of access for journalists and aid workers means that it is difficult for the world to know how much Yemen is suffering. Only by speaking to the few who have managed to flee can even begin to grasp the realities of daily life for those left behind.

*Names have been changed to protect the identities of our sources.

Neha Shah has been volunteering in the Calais camp.