It’s surprising that a movie like “V For Vendetta” could have been released so recently. During this time United States is again in the middle of a war no one can justify, or even articulate the reasons for in any plausible way. The government is being dissolved from within by the venom of private transnational corporations profiting transparently from a state of ongoing crisis. Enormous anti-war protests are blatantly ignored by a national media with both the resources to cover such things, and endless venues to present them easily. A large enough number of people are aware of the suppression to make one suppose that it will resolve itself somehow, but nothing happens. Nothing in the sense of resonance; nothing in the sense that momentum will build, that there’s an irrepressible force that will cause the edifices of power to tremble just enough for the parasites within to alter course, if only out of fear for the stability of their luxuriant lifestyles. In modern America, the people are beyond powerless against the feudal lords that have taken root and have been posing as our government. Even if a voice could be heard, what are those words a prelude to?

There’s something incredibly unsatisfying in seeking catharsis through dystopian models like that found in “V For Vendetta,” where the party responsible for the crisis can be consolidated into a single individual, and where the greater entity to which that individual belongs can be summed up as “The State,” “The Party,” The Corporation.” It’s quaint to imagine what one identifies as a symbol (e.g. The House of Lords) actually represents the thing we mean to address. In reality, there’s no representation or mechanism that truly encapsulates the problems of society, let alone one that could be expected to account for it. There may not even be one that could not, from another perspective, be viewed as merely symptomatic — an inextricable consequence inevitable to the circumstances surrounding it — if not a kind of unwitting victim in itself.

No one is worried about “V For Vendetta,” or Zack de la Rocha, or Michael Moore inciting a riot. These are prominent Quixotic heroes, speaking against vague figures of authority in vague ways. They’re screaming for violence, for revolution, and yet are unworthy of the suppression (or gross negligence) we know — from their lack of coverage of the massive anti-war protests — our media conglomerates are capable of. This is because no matter how hard certain people scream for blood, everyone knows the vast majority of people will consume this product that caters to their rage, and see no practical connection between it and the way they live. They’ll have their small, bitter catharsis, finish their beers, and be ready for work the next day, just like every other day. Unlike in places like North Korea, or Cuba, America knows it’s all talk. If hatred of the government, or of corporations; or petty civil disobedience; or a daily routine of conspiratorial talk and bellicose institutional denunciations are not something frightful — the immediate precursor to a wildfire of public outrage — then they are the precursors to resignation and complacency. We will get it out of our system; have our tantrums and storm off ineffectually.

Clearly it isn’t love for the state that’s necessary for complacency in the seats of power; people bitch about the government all the time, publicly, up to and including allusions to assassination. It isn’t the suppression of dissenting voices that’s necessary either; we hear them all the time. Anyone can pick up a Zinn or Chomsky book at their local mall bookstore and read about the history of American genocide and class warfare from the Monroe Doctrine to the brazen mishandling of Hurricane Katrina. So if nothing in the popular media is any threat to the cultural orthodoxy, what does that leave it? It means it is simply part of the orthodoxy — a few spiteful rumblings before Americans run to their bedrooms to mope. An idle mistrust of the government, of institutions; a vague allusion to revolution peppered throughout a conversation; a few references to how governments have given way to corporations a la “Network”: these are along the baseline of this culture. They are as commonplace as crypto-Christian themes of redemption through death in every drama released since the invention of the moving picture.

Now then, we’re not obliged to love the state, or our corporate feudal lords. We can talk about blowing up Parliament and and flying 747s into the Transamerica building without expecting to be erased from history. We can say whatever we want as long as it doesn’t connote an action. Whether actual actions will garner media attention is another story, but we can talk about them freely. What is the character, then, of the mentality we collectively average throughout our lives, that shows us for the cowed, predictable creatures that we are? The only word I can think of that can capture both our (often apprehensive, but rarely failing) obedience to the institutions, and our simultaneous impotent rage against them, would be “zeitgeist.” The zeitgeist represents the whole of it: from the most faithful of orthodoxy to the brittle words of idle dissent, spoken and forgotten in a single breath. Our will itself has been confused, tangled in itself, grown accustomed to the symbols of free speech and free behavior, but alien to their practice. The sad fact is that dragging our feet and doing what we’re told is the dichotomic ritual of American serfdom.

I’m not convinced there’s anything to be done about. History resembles this more than anything else. I’m sure many, if not the majority, are satisfied enough with it to accept the way things are. And it is acceptance that really provides power any legitimacy. A small, even legal, aberration in the usual behavior of a few thousand in a major city could clog and probably bring some economic mechanism to a crisis in a short period, but even that’s more ambitious and optimistic than I’m willing to waste time thinking about. I don’t think, and am not expecting to, change anyone else in the slightest. It’s really too much to ask, and presumptuous besides. I’m still part of the mechanism itself, serving to strengthen the existing power structure through work and consumption. The one thing I can change is my mind — and only mine. The mainstream commercial media is the drumbeat of our masters; a constant rhythm affirming both their absolute power, and echoing a caricature of our rejection of it; all while amplifying the conceits and prejudices that keep us incurious about the world. It’s obvious and depressing once you remove yourself from it long enough for it to become foreign. Then it just seems intolerable.

There isn’t a concrete point to what I’m saying. It’s just an observation.

Last Modified : June 13th, 2009 Filed under : Personal Navigate : Previous post / Next post