A government-centric understanding of the response to 9/11 would surely focus on the most harrowing decision that the executive branch made that morning, when Vice-President Cheney ordered U.S. fighter pilots to shoot down hijacked airliners – which he understood were on their way to take out the White House or the Capitol. As best we can tell through the fog of war that characterized all events of that day, Cheney gave the order at 10:15am. By then, however, the attack had already been over for 12 minutes. The last hijacked plane, United 93, had in fact crashed near Shanksville, PA at 10:03am. The sole instance when the terrorists’ plans were defeated on 9/11 came about not because of any decision made by the White House or the FAA or NORAD; but because the plane’s passengers chose to confront what they now realized was a suicide mission. In other words, the “most powerful government in the world” arguably had no impact whatsoever on the unfolding of the attacks. The 9/11 Commission Report later estimated that the plot cost Al-Qaida no more than $500,000; while the cost of its impact, and of the U.S.’ response, is measured in trillions. These are the sort of shocking realizations that soon caused some analysts to speak of the “end of power”. At least, we have been witnessing the era-defining “flattening” and redistribution of power towards the grassroots; towards web-enabled, nebulous, shape-shifting, hypercomplex networks of unthinkably-empowered individuals, in an environment where most barriers to entry into strategic and high-political relevance have essentially been removed. In the mid-20th century, the Annals School revolutionized the field of History by arguing that socio-economic and cultural dynamics rooted in long-term evolutions were a more potent causal factor, hence a more useful field of inquiry than the usual lists of kings, battles, and treaties. Twenty years on from 9/11, those of us who teach in a field that – by the way – we still insist on calling inter-*national* relations, should pause and ponder: where is our own “Annals School”? Are we teaching governance – or are we teaching power?