Here is a must-read article from Paul Street posted yesterday on ZNet:
War Journalism Lives On: Newsweek’s “Voices of the Fallen”
Soldiers and civilians may die but war journalism lives on.
The Empire and Inequality Report, No. 15
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[I offer some commentary]
The other night, we were discussing Cecil B. Demille's Ten Commandments, reading the film—as Alan Nadel suggests—as a cold war epic that allegorically pits the God-fearing United States [the Hebrews and proto-Christian Americans] against the brutal and atheistic Egyptians [as the militarized and godless Soviet front]. While Nadel's article gives a "fun" reading of the techno-cultural history of the cinematic apparatus—for instance, he argues that the invention of the wide screen format parallels an invigorated US cold war imperialism—his reading is nonetheless thoroughly contained within an allegorical logic that aims to read power relations as representational.
The problem with allegorical renderings of history is that such representational thinking offers only a correspondence theory of political motivations. Allegorical history will invariably offer only mythic, heroic understandings of culture and thus will always miss the organizing violence of culture. Paul De Man notes, accordingly, that there are two kinds of reading/writing: (1) that which is blind, and (2) that which is blind, but is aware of its blindness. Allegorical thinking—or, to be more specific, representational thinking (or a prejudicial logic)—can never account for its own blindness. As such, we contrast the logic of representation against the logic of the symptom as such a logic capable of situating its blindness.
To the extent that Nadel reads the Ten Commandments as allegory, his reading is limited—however critically and sophisticated—to reading the relations of force as ones organized only by power.
If, however, we read Ten Commandments not as an allegory of the cold war but as a symptom of the cold war, we move from a reading predicated on relations of power to a reading that is capable of registering that which cannot be represented in any stable signifying economy—mainly, the very real fear and paranoia of the cold war American public.
The heroic necessarily masks the constitutive wound of its own fears.
Fear and paranoia will invariably—and quite invisibly, at least initially—organize culture on the basis of sacrifice, blood rituals, and war. (And actually, this is what scripture already tells us). In the middle of violence, we are often unaware of the reproductive sacralizing mechanisms at work.
While reading violence through the logic of the symptom proves more capable of situating our violences (our fears and paranoia) in such a way as to open the conditions for reconciliation and healing, the symptomic rendering of violence will always (dare I say, structurally?) occur too late! In the midst of things, we are almost always too close to read the events in any other way than through the heroic.
But not always.
Paul Street's article moves toward such a symptomatic reading of the American enthusiasm for war against Iraq. As he points out, war journalism is still alive and well—which is to say, our corporate journalists are still too beholden to that heroic narrative of the "fallen soldiers"—those brave boys that "we" sent off to fight for liberty "over there" so that "they" would not have to fight them "here." Such journalism is blind to its own blindness. It reads violence only in terms of power and never in terms of fear and paranoia, and thus we hide behind a certain mythic rendering of history to maintain a position of innocence, or to carry on our status as victims.
I propose this reading of Paul Street’s article (through a reading of Nadel’s reading of Ten Commandments) because what our analyses of the so-called ‘War on Terror’ tend to miss—which is to say, what our readings of the American enthusiasm for war tend to remain blind to—is that the war on terror is a continuation of the cold war! It’s the same playing out of the cold war geopolitical machinations—cast by the same cold war players: Cheney, Rumsfeld, Bush, et al.
An allegorical, mythic, or heroic reading of the collapse of the Soviet Union would suggest that we won the cold war. On the contrary, a symptomic, diachronic, or genealogical reading of the collapse of the Soviet Union begins to recognize (always belatedly) that perhaps we lost (or are losing) the cold war.
Paul Street’s article—necessarily too late, in one regard, but not too late in another regard—works to situate the blindness of heroic, historical “war journalism.”
MM writes, “I pity the land that is in need of heroes.” The existential subversion of the heroic requires that we take control of the mechanisms of cultural mediation—that we account for our violences and take ownership, as a non-possessive ownership, of our cruelties and indifferences. To take control of the mechanisms of mediation means that—within that asymptotic infinity of the event, of existence, or within that space of incommensurability between us and the world—that we…
…become the media.