Virtual Scholars

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Archive for Media Criticism

lo Squaderno

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lo Squaderno, #13, September 2009 “Connected & People”
a cura di / dossier coordonné par / edited by // Andreas Fernandez, Andrea Mubi Brighenti
Guest image editor // Miya Yoshida

The most recent edition of lo Squaderno came out this month. It is an online magazine produced in Italy. The title apparently translates as meaning to flick through a magazine to find a particular page (what a great word!). The by-line of the magazine is ‘explorations in space and society’, which the editors explain as follows:

Research is a movement of thought which does not depend on codes or specialized savoirs. It is neither disciplinary nor bound to produce certified, true knowledge. In other words, research is open and endless.

Predicated upon these premises, lo Squaderno is a web magazine devoted to explore and advance research movements.

Launched in Autumn 2006, lo Squaderno collects original short features by people committed to research in various fields. Each issue is structured around a thematic focus around the topics of of space, power, and society.

Based on an article I wrote for Theory, Culture & Society, ‘Love Messaging: Mobile Phone Txting Seen Through the Lens of Tanka Poetry’ (Volume 26, Issues 2-3, 2009, pp.209-232), the editors invited me to submit something for this month’s issue, on the theme ‘Connected & People’.  The result is a short piece, ’Love Media: The Joy of Txt’ (lo Squaderno, #13, September 2009, pp.27-30), based on what I had written before, but more playful and with the sole focus of txting and love messaging.

Just Do It!

The dream has never died … it lives on in those Americans, young and old, rich and poor, black and white, Latino and Asian and Native American, gay and straight, who are tired of a politics that divides us and want to recapture the sense of common purpose that we had when John Kennedy was president of the United States of America – Barack Obama (CNN)

When I look at Barack Obama (through the lens of the British broadcast media and various Internet snippets) I really only see a man in a race with the spectre of his own good looks and charm; epitomised, perhaps, by the I Got a Crush… on Obama viral video, which apparently Obama himself responded to by saying: ’It’s just one more example of the fertile imagination of the Internet. More stuff like this will be popping up all the time’ (more). Of course it is far more complex, and murky too. A recent article in The Guardian, ‘It’s the most vicious election campaign ever: and here’s why’, amply demonstrates the problem for Democrats trying to stage a political campaign against the ‘force of the mighty Republican propaganda machine’. In the UK it is easy to see only the photo-opportunities (the main speeches and press conferences). What is not witnessed are the endless parade of advertisements and internet videos, some authorised, plenty others not. Still with the polls in Obama’s favour and numerous negative headlines for McCain and Palin appearing on the widely-read syndicated news blog service The Huffington Post (see also plaid lemur), there is quiet optimism for a politics that no longer divides…

But aren’t we forgetting something? Polls show that race remains a negative factor.  A poll conducted by Stanford University, for example, suggests that ‘the percentage of voters who may turn away from Obama because of his race could easily be larger than the final difference between the candidates in 2004 — about two and one-half percentage points’ (Associated Press). The irony, of course, is that with prospects of America’s first ever Black president, race is strictly off the agenda: ‘The black candidate can’t really talk about race without being accused of race baiting, and the Republican candidate can’t indulge in the typical GOP-style coded race baiting because everyone knows what he’s doing’ (Deggans). The question, then, is whether race is being seen, but not voiced, or whether it is finally becoming a non-issue. Sadly, the latter is unlikely, but equally the former is surely more complex.

 

In Roland Barthes’ oft cited volume Mythologies (1957), the example of a young black solider is used to help unravel the complexities of semiological ’myth’. Whilst at the barber’s, Barthes casually notices the cover of Paris-Match, which shows an image of a young black solider who is saluting, ‘his eyes uplifted, probably fixed on a fold of the tricolour [the French flag]‘. As a photograph it cannot ‘lie’ – ‘All this is the meaning of the picture’, Barthes notes.

But, whether naively or not, I see very well what it signifies to me: that France is a great Empire, that all her sons, without any colour discrimination, faithfully serve under the flag, and that there is no better answer to the detractors of an alleged colonialism than the zeal shown by this [solider] in serving his so-called oppressors (Barthes, Mythologies)

The key lesson of Barthes semiological system is that ‘myth hides nothing: its function is to distort, not to make disappear’. What happens in this case is that the history of the solider (his own personal history and that of colonialism more broadly) is changed into mere gesture. Nothing is removed, or hidden, but everything takes on a different manner.  

This is a king of arrest, in both the physical and the legal sense of the term: French imperiality condemns the saluting [solider] to be nothing more than an instrumental signifier, the [solider] suddenly hails me in the name of French imperiality; but at the same moment [his] salute thickens, becomes vitrified, freezes into an eternal reference meant to establish French imperiality. [...] myth is speech stolen and restored. Only, speech which is restored is no longer quite that which was stolen: when it was brought back, it was not put exactly in its place.(Barthes, Mythologies)

Have we finally exorcized this myth? For Barthes, there is one ‘language’ that is not mythical. It is language of the producer, of one who ’speaks in order to transform reality and no longer to preserve it as an image … revolutionary language proper cannot be mythical. Revolution is defined as a cathartic act meant to reveal the political load of the world: it makes the world’ (See also: Michael Johnson’s Barthes and the Politics of Electoral Photography which prompts consideration of imagery from the US Election). In 1983 the UK’s Conservative Party issued the following election poster: 

As Paul Gilroy explains: ‘The poster was presumably intended to exploit ambiguities between ‘race’ and nation and to salve the sense of exclusion experienced by the blacks who were its target’. The main caption ‘Labour says he’s black. Tories say he’s British’ set against the image of a young black man in smart dress ’set out to reassure readers that “with Conservatives there are no ‘blacks’, no ‘whites’, just people’. Rhetorically, the attempt was to make nationality colourless, or colour-blind. And of course the suit worn by the man is quite pertient. Obama is well known for his stylish suits (which contrast dramatically with McCain) – is this the manifestation of a revolutionary language?  In the 1983 poster, Gilroy sees the suit as a weapon:

…the slightly too large suit worn by the young man, with its unfashionable cut and connotations of a job interview, becomes a key signifier. It conveys what is being asked of the black readers as the price of admission to the colour-blind form of citizenship promised by the text. Blacks are being invited to forsake all that marks them out as culturally distinct before real Britishness can be guaranteed. Isolated and shorn of the mugger’s icons – a tea-cosy hat and the dreadlocks of Rastafari – he is redeemed by his suit, the signifier of British civilization. The image of the black youth as a problem is thus contained and rendered assimilable. The wolf is transformed by his sheep’s clothing (Gilroy, in Images: A Reader, pp.76-78)

Obama carries no such signifier.  The language of his suits (to quote Barthes again)  ’speaks in order to transform reality and no longer to preserve it as an image’.  The Media Critic of the St. Petersburg Times, Eric Deggans, offers a neat phrase: ‘It’s something people of color face every day: you’re a symbol to the world until you get famous enough that you’re not.’

Obama’s style and affect might better be understood in terms of Celia Lury’s analysis of the advertising of Benetton clothing, which has a purposefully ‘global’ definition of race. The company’s slogan subtly, but significantly changed from ‘All the Colours of the World’ to ‘United Colours of Benetton’. The ir advertising imagery frequently accentuates racial characteristics and national codes. On the one hand:

The overpowering reference point in their imagery is that race is real: racial archetypes provide the vehicle for their message, and racial common sense is overbearingly present in the ‘United Colors’ myth, such that the reality of race is legitimated in Benetton’s discourse (Back and Quaade, in Images: A Reader, p.262)

Yet, there is a more complex and contemporary reading, which Lury explains:  

…the novel productivity of these images is missed if it is argued that racial difference is naturalised here, if by that is meant that race is presented as an unchanging and eternal biological essence. ‘Race’, in this imagery, is not a matter of skin colour, of physical characteristics as the expression of a biological or natural essence, but rather of style, of the colour of skin, of colour itself as the medium of what might be called a second nature or, more provocatively, a cultural essentialism (Lury, in Images: A Reader, p.262) 

Keeping in mind something of Lury’s logic of race as a style and medium, Eric Deggan’s article, One Reason Race May Not Derail Obama: The ‘Do the Right Thing’ Effect, provides a set of three scenarios that foreground the manner in which Obama’s ‘race’ is not easily understood a simple biological category, but as something far more complex, tactical and arguably with very little to do with Obama himself – but instead the complex history of signification that we are all placed within.

The Do the Right Thing effect – I named this for the moment in Spike Lee’s legendary film where he confronts a racist pizzeria operator with the observation that the guy makes awful comments about black people but loves Prince, Eddie Murphy and Magic Johnson.

“It’s different,” John Turturro’s Pino Frangione insists. “Magic, Eddie, Prince are not niggers…They’re not really black. They’re black but they’re not really black. They’re more than black. To me, it’s different.”

And that’s a dynamic no one can measure. It’s been my experience as the occasional object of racism that there are some folks who feel badly about the idea of black people, but those attitudes can change for specific black people they feel they know.

So there are probably some Democratic voters who don’t see Obama as a typical black person, and don’t transfer those negative, generic feelings onto him – particularly because he doesn’t fit the easy stereotypes, even of black politicians. And as long as Obama has been running for president, there are many voters who didn’t really get to know him until he clinched the Democratic nomination in July.

[...]

The Reverse Bradley Effect – Okay, this one is a little less likely, I admit. But the Bradley effect is a dynamic named for Los Angeles mayor Tom Bradley, a black politician who went into a tough election for governor doing well in the polls but lost when the votes were counted.

The lesson some learned: people told pollsters they were voting Bradley just so they wouldn’t look racist.

But as today’s presidential race has taken on a new dynamic, I wonder if a different impulse won’t emerge. We are, after all, in an election season where Republicans and even Democrats like Geraldine Ferraro insist Obama is getting widespread support mostly because of his race.

So maybe there are some folks planning to vote for Obama who don’t want to admit it.

[...]

The George Wallace Effect – Like Hillary Clinton before him, Republican John McCain has tried to reference Obama’s difference without mentioning race, emphasizing his loose connections to “domestic terrorist” William Ayers and repeatedly asking “Who is the real Barack Obama?” as if two years on the campaign trail hadn’t provided the public a few answers.

But McCain is discovering what Clinton also learned the hard way – the real point of those kinds of attacks is obvious in the post-Willie Horton-era, and it hurts in two ways. It makes people who are not racist but uneasy about Obama feel as if they are falling in league with racists, and it brings enough racists out of the woodwork that those making the attacks start looking like the famously pro-segregation governor (doubt my words, check the footage of McCain correcting a supporter who worried he was an Arab – the kind of thinking his campaign seemed to be encouraging just days before).

[...]

These are odd positions for me to argue, I admit. Back when Obama first announced his candidacy, I along with many other black folks, had a hard time believing a black candidate for president could be much more than a trivia question.

But white friends who were much less cynical about racism argued me down, and seem to be proven right.

Now that the worsening economy is hobbling Republican electoral hopes everywhere, I’m ready to believe that America might be ready to elect its first black president.

The only real question left, is whether enough white folks feel the same.

 

…in keeping with the ‘Do The Right Thing’ effect, and reminding ourselves of the presence of sports wear and its associated, global slogans which appear as parody in Spike Lee’s film, we might now most usefully take Nike’s mantra – JUST DO IT! – and get on with that dream which never died…

V is for Vogue

A letter arrived just the other day – written in red, an addition to the alphabet, in this case an alternative for the letter ‘v’ (see the Letters in Red). Its intimate meaning exists no doubt only between its sender and receiver, but for the general reader there is a delicate lesson in, or revision of, the semiotics of shopping (though like the best kind of lesson it occurs by a creative accident).

What do we see? A stylish, though traditional basket by a window (of solid, old fashioned quality and in good decoration). The contents are of two red peppers, a bunch of tomatoes and appearing from under them, the latest addition of Vogue magazine (its lettering echoing in red, with the words ‘HERO PIECES’ and ‘The allure … soft’ just discernable). The vegetables, like the magazine, appear to have been collected ‘just now’ from the marketplace. They jostle freely in the basket. They conjure an image of freshness and cosmopolitan living. But there is also a certain patience or is it perhaps knowingness? These items, which speak of a readiness to be touched, are held within this high-sided basket and given an exact light for their picture. What could this mean?

 

The image is in many respects a worthy update on that well known advertisement for Panazni that Roland Barthes wrote about in the early 1970s, and which is still rolled out to this day when teaching aspects of semiotics. The ‘idea’ we have in this scene is, as Barthes writes, ‘a return from the market’ – just as I have suggested for the first picture. This is what Barthes further explains:

…the idea … we have in the scene represented is a return from the market. A signified which itself implies two euphoric values: that of the freshness of the products and that of the essentially domestic preparation for which they are destined. Its signifier is the half-open bag which lets the provisions spill out over the table, ‘unpacked’. To read this first sign requires only a knowledge which is in some sort implanted as part of the habits of a very widespread culture where ‘shopping around for oneself’ is opposed to the hasty stocking up (preserves, refrigerators) of a more ‘mechanical’ civilization.

However, if we take the ‘mechanical’ to also include Warhol’s images of consumer items, we can perhaps come back to the first image and begin to see the greater relevance of the copy of Vogue magazine (which I must stress was not purposely placed for this analytical reason, it was, I have on good authority, genuinely purchased – as a basic need – along with the vegetables). Today’s basket not only finds its way into marketing media (to become an advertised object of desire), but it also contains media forms and not just as a supplementary item, but as an equivalent to the basic food stuffs surrounding it. We don’t need the signifier of the half-open bag to alert us to euphoric values, nor are we necessarily unaware of the ideology of ‘shopping around for oneself’ – instead we are ourselves capable of constructing (and deconstructing) euphoric values; not just to shop for ourselves, but also to communicate, to share with others. As the systems theorist, Niklas Luhmann, suggests, society can be treated as ‘a social system that consists solely of communications and therefore as a system that can only reproduce communications by means of communications’. We deny a great deal if we attend only to the view that it is Mass Media which makes society meaningful. A monolithic view that is – if only in a humble fashion - dispelled by this simple example of a basket with vegetables and Vogue; a worthy, flirtatious addition to the those letters in red.

Rageh Omaar at the NMPFT

As part of a publicity tour for his new book, Only Half of Me: Being a Muslim in Britain, Rageh Omaar was at the National Museum of Photography, Film and Television in Bradford (UK) on the evening of 29 June 2006.

Having happened to have seen him a year or so previously at a similar kind of event following the publication of his first book Revolution Day, a fairly critical appraisal of his time as on-the-spot reporter in Baghdad during the 2003 Iraq invasion, I was intrigued to find out how he had changed. His new book, which examines issues of identity for Muslims in contemporary Britain, certainly marks a change in style and tone, being less journalistic and more contemplative and rich in sources.

I’m not sure exactly what it is, but – like so many others – I really feel I like Rageh, as I like a friend. In a brief conversation the other day, a colleague of mine suggested there is something very ‘ethical’ about Rageh Omaar – not necessarily (and perhaps inevitably as a TV reporter) in that he always must manage to be ethical and impartial etc, but yet somehow through all the machinary of the media to still express his pains to be ethical, to be responsible on all sorts of levels. Only Half of Me certainly does not betray such a sentiment, in fact it makes explicit the ‘process’ of questioning, rather than attempting all too easily to throw up ‘answers’ to the problems discussed. It is this kind of modesty and reflection that is surely distinctive of Rageh’s style. As I came away from the talk, a young guy, with whom I’d struck up a conversation with prior to going into the talk, saw me again in the crowd. He gave a litle smile and suggested it might have all been too ‘middle of the road’ – Rageh is all too nice and gentle. I think perhaps he has a point, but equally, Rageh is not afraid to express a direct opinion. When asked during the event in all frankness whether he felt the war in Iraq had been justified, he dithered for a moment (and you expected he was going to duck the question like any MP would), but he did not retreat. Rageh stated clearly he felt the war had not been justified, and importantly explained his answer with great precision, avoiding all the usual grievances (such as the 45 minute claim and the lack of weapons). Instead he made a very accute point about the lack of awareness on behalf of certain western leaders regarding the status and heritage of Iraq in the longview and how this ignorance has in many respects made for a terrible blindspot, giving no means, for example, to have predicted the significance and effects of having waged war in the country.

With all seats filled, Rageh came up onto the stage at the venue in the National Museum still with his jacket on. Taking this off and casually placing over a chair (as if he’d just come home from a day’s work), he proceeded to give a ‘reading’ from his new book without barely reading a line off the page – no doubt all his training and experience as a journalist filing to camera, he stores his thoughts up in his head. And it is not perhaps that Rageh has a huge amount to say, but what he does say is very well placed – there is a great sense of contextualising information in a brief form. However, given the scope of the book, which examines Britishness and Muslim culture and identity, and given the cultural diversity (and at times its tensions) well known of the city of Bradford, I thought it surprising that during the extensive Q&A session that followed no one seemed to want to explore the key issue of the book, encapsulated – controversially perhaps – in the title ‘Only Half of Me’. (I am at the very beginning stages of a book project to write about cultural identity – in my case from the perspective of mixed race – and as such the title of Rageh’s book was what really drew me to the event and what stuck in my mind as what had been most ignored.

Perhaps one of the most memorable questions – emblematic of the nature of the audience’s interest – came from a young women sitting near the front. Why, she asked, had Rageh chosen to leave the BBC and was this due to reasons of disaffection? As a final and crucial rider, she noted how she had always felt a certain pride in seeing someone like Rageh up on the screen, a British-Asian role-model. Has Rageh let his community down? Inevitably Rageh had to take a deep breath before making his considered response. He calmly noted he had not left the BBC on bad terms (and indeed is still making various documentary programmes with the Corporation), however he had felt the need, as he put it, to take control of his of own destiny. There was – he himself admitted – something a little corny about such an idea, but nevertheless, the need to take control – not least editorial control – of one’s work is undoubtedly a fundamental point of interest for Rageh. And no doubt makes for a compelling case that the last thing he is doing is letting his community down – though of course interrogating further just who his ‘community’ might include is a another very interesting and open question. A question we might suitably have explored that evening, had it not been for the overriding interest in Rageh’s former role at the BBC as Baghdad correspondent.

At one point, in answering yet more questions about reporting in Iraq, Rageh gave a wonderful description – along the lines of situationalist Guy Debord’s notion of the ’society of spectacle’ – of the media as a great echo-chamber. Whilst a statement of fact as issued by a solider as he advances to his destination, declaring, for example, no resistence has been met along the road to the target, gives us an accurate report of the scene, once it is then re-iterated by a commander in the media-centre designed specially for the awaiting media (all desperate for some ‘news’), this simple fact is transformed into the starting filament of a major news story. As Rageh mentioned, he lost count of the number of times Basra fell. In 24 Hour News, he explained, there is a terrible flaw, the speed of information means very little can be checked and verified, and even if it is later found to be inaccurate, it hardly matters as the story has moved on elsewhere anyway. I could only feel Rageh chose to step out of this great echo-chamber only to find it encased in another. As he acknowledged a number of times, he has been given a ‘platform’ following his break as a prominent BBC correspondent. Yet that same platform does potentially restrict not what he can say, but what he is heard to say. I think it is going to be fascinating to see how his new book is taken up in the wider debates going on now about Muslims in Britain and about cultural values and identity in general in the post-September 11 world.

At the very close of the event – and really with far too little time for an adequate response – a non-Muslim mother asked Rageh a stark question: what should she say to her young son (of 10 years old) who is asking her questions about his Muslim friends at school and the kinds of representations he is seeing on the television? Rageh – who acknowledged the upmost importance of the question – rather lost his way in reply. I sensed he wanted to say he had no answer (and that was what troubled him and what brought him in all seriousness to the venue on this day), but given that this was the very last question and given that he was all but asked for a take-home perscription, what could he do but feign an authoriative response (curtailed due to the lack of time)? I really would like to know what ‘other’ answers might be possible and I suspect many more in the room (Rageh and the mother who asked the final question included) wish to know too. Rageh’s new book is certainly not to be read in isolation, I just wonder where the next venue for the debate it urges is to be located (and on whose time)…