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when police kill a white woman
When a police shooting victim is a white woman
The sympathetic reaction to Justine Damond’s death shows the relentless power of race in America.
The reaction to a police shooting sure looks different when the victim is a white woman.
There’s a typical story that plays out in the aftermath of police shootings. One side, critical of police, comes out pointing to the excesses of police brutality, particularly in cases in which officers killed black men and boys. The other side, supportive of police, comes out pointing to the nuances of the cases and perhaps the ways that the victims are to blame for their deaths — he had a criminal record, he didn’t listen to the police, and so on.
This didn’t really happen after Justine Damond, a white woman, was shot and killed by a black police officer, Mohamed Noor. While many people — including some Black Lives Matter activists — criticized the shooting, very few defended Noor in the same way they have stood up for police officers in previous incidents. Not many articles focused on nitpicking the lack of information we have to try to weaken the case against the police. There’s been little to no victim blaming.
Consider the ultra-conservative news outlet Breitbart. The outlet has been unusually muted about this particular police shooting, running few original articles on Damond. One of the articles it has run, however, paint her as a victim who was just trying to get help: “Woman Calls 911, Shot Dead by Minneapolis Officer.”
In contrast, Breitbart ran many original stories about the police shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, in which it painted Brown, his family, and even his supporters as criminals. After reports said prosecutors would drop charges against the officers allegedly involved in Freddie Gray’s death in police custody in Baltimore, Breitbart ran the headline,“Report: Prosecutors Drop All Charges in Heroin Trafficker Freddie Gray Case” — again, describing the victim as a criminal. After Cleveland officers shot and killed 12-year-old Tamir Rice, Breitbart ran headlines suggesting that Rice was large and dangerous: “The Latest: 12-year-old Tamir Rice was 5’7″, weighed 175 lbs” and“Cleveland Officers Claim Tamir Rice Lifted Shirt, Reached into Waistband.”
The difference in reaction is alarming. But it’s not unexpected. The research suggests much of America really does react differently to tragedies involving white victims than black ones. We are seeing that play out in real time in the response to Damond’s death.
The reaction to Justine Damond’s death was different
In general, the coverage of and public reaction to Damond’s death — going back to her homeland, Australia — has been more sympathetic and empathetic to her death, and it’s created a greater sense of urgency than is typically seen in the aftermath of police shootings (even those of unarmed white men, suggesting gender plays a role too).
It’s not just Breitbart. Conservative media, based on some sleuthing on Google, has been generally quiet about Damond’s death — which is notable on its own, given that these outlets often counter what they see as liberal news narratives with their own narratives, particularly when it comes to police shootings. As one example, a Google search turns up four stories on the Blaze, the network founded by conservative pundit Glenn Beck, about Damond, but there are pages and pages of results from the Blaze for each of the killings of black men like Michael Brown, Freddie Gray, andPhilando Castile.
When conservative outlets have written about Damond’s death, they by and large have framed her as a victim. Here is, for example, Fox News: “Australian woman shot dead by Minneapolis police after calling to report possible crime.” And here is the Blaze: “Questions swirl after Australian woman is fatally shot by Minneapolis police; bodycams were off.”
Damond’s lawyer played into this as well, calling Damond “the most innocent victim” of a police shooting that he has ever seen. He quickly added, “I’m not saying Philando wasn’t innocent, too, or that Frank Baker wasn’t innocent. But here is someone who called the police and was trying to stop someone from being hurt … and ends up being shot in her pajamas.”
Ranking victims of police shootings is odd enough, but there are plenty of totally innocent victims of police killings besides Damond. Consider that, in Detroit, police in 2010 killed a sleeping 7-year-old when they stormed her home while looking for her uncle — though this girl, unlike Damond, was poor and black.
Aiyana Stanley-Jones
The headlines by some conservative outlets and pundits have also emphasized the officer’s race, ethnicity, and religion. Here is one Fox News headline, which focused on Noor’s national origin: “Somali immigrant cop Mohamed Noor, who shot Justine Damond, was 'highly celebrated' by Minneapolis mayor in 2015.” And here are some from far-right activist Pamela Geller, which emphasized Noor’s national origin and religion: “First Somali-Muslim police officer in Minnesota KILLS blonde yoga instructor in cold blood” and “Muslim killer-cop’s story falls apart: Justine Damond’s neighbors heard no loud noises — multiple people interviewed.”
This is something I saw in my social media feed as well: the repeated insinuation that Noor was inherently violent and dangerous because he was black, an immigrant, and Muslim.
Here, for example, is the most upvoted comment on one of Breitbart’s stories about Damond: “Anyone named Muhammad should not be on any police force in America. I hope this liberal mayor of Minneapolis is forced out of office. I usually agree with the police on shootings, but this, based on the information released, should be murder.”
There is, of course, zero basis for the bigotry behind this claim. But it’s widespread enough — and, sadly, predictable enough — that after Noor’s identity came out, the Somali community in Minneapolis prepared for the backlash.
The Washington Post reported:
The report stoked fear among Somalis in the Twin Cities, who have worked for decades to become part of the city’s fabric. There are now Somalis on the police force, the city council and in the Minnesota House of Representatives. But the largely Muslim population of Somali Americans in the region still face Islamophobia and innuendo about terrorism.
Then there’s the Minneapolis police department’s reaction. Less than a week after Damond died, Minneapolis Police Chief Janeé Harteau resigned. This led to a viral tweet arguing that the reaction to the police shooting of Damond proves what racial justice activists have long said:
The tweet isn’t fully right. One of the problems in the Damond case is that it took several days for officials to confirm Noor’s identity to the public. And in other cases involving black victims, police leaders were also pushed out: Baltimore’s police commissioner was fired after Freddie Gray’s death, and Ferguson’s police chief resigned after Brown’s death and after a Department of Justice report exposed the systemically racist nature of the Ferguson Police Department — although, crucially, both happened months after the high-profile deaths of the black men in question, not mere days like in Damond’s case.
Some of the Somali Americans on Minneapolis police force.
In general, it’s going to be difficult to draw perfect comparisons from police killing to police killing. Police departments are different. Victims will have different backgrounds. The circumstances will vary — sometimes enormously so — from case to case.
And it’s probably the case that police departments are simply more likely to react swiftly to high-profile police killings now that they’ve faced years of criticism over similar incidents.
But much of the reaction we are seeing now feels predictable — in a bad way. As Black Lives Matter activist Shaun Kingnoted in his New York Daily News column:
Simply put, [“mirror neurons” is] the concept of how when you see something happening to someone who looks like you, or reminds you of yourself, you have neurons in your brain that fire off almost like you yourself are experiencing the thing you are watching. For the past three years, African Americans across the country have been watching the horrors of police brutality and internalizing so much of the pain as those mirror neurons fire off. The pain and the plight are personal.Maybe, just maybe, with the shooting death of Justine Damond, millions of white people, for the very first time, will now see a victim of police brutality, and see themselves.
There are plenty of questions about the science of mirror neurons — since they have mostly been studied in monkeys — and how they would apply to a situation like this. In general, though, the empirical research backs up King’s point about who the public tends to show sympathy and empathy to.
People are more likely to empathize with victims of the same race
One telling study came in the aftermath of 2005’s Hurricane Katrina, which devastated New Orleans. In a 2007 study, researchers found that people tended to believe that victims in racial outgroups suffered fewer “uniquely human” emotions like anguish, mourning, and remorse than victims in racial ingroups. And, in the aftermath of a natural disaster, that perception of fewer “uniquely human” emotions led participants to be less willing to help victims in racial outgroups.
In short, people showed more empathy to victims of the same race than they did to victims of a different race — in a way that affected people’s willingness to help after Katrina.
The Katrina research is just one example. A 2009 study found that, when looking at images of others in pain, the parts of people’s brains that respond to pain tended to show more activity if the person in the image was of the same race as the participant. Those researchers concluded that their findings “support the view that shared common membership enhances a perceiver’s empathic concerns for others.” Other studies reached similar conclusions.
In the case of Damond’s death, then, many white people are simply much more likely to see her as a victim — someone who needs their help. That’s what much of the media reaction, even among conservative defenders of police, has reflected.
Meanwhile, other research suggests that people generally hold more hostile views toward black Americans — ones that characterize even black children as dangerous.
One 2014 study, for example, found that people view black boys as older and less innocent starting at the age of 10. “Children in most societies are considered to be in a distinct group with characteristics such as innocence and the need for protection,” Phillip Goff, an author of the 2014 study, said in a statement. “Our research found that black boys can be seen as responsible for their actions at an age when white boys still benefit from the assumption that children are essentially innocent.”
One series of studies, released earlier this year, used various visual tests to see how people perceive the bodies of white and black men. The findings were consistent: When participants believed the man in the images was black, they generally saw the man as larger, more threatening, and potentially more harmful in an altercation than a white person. And they were more likely to say use of force was justified against the black men than the white men.
Another study found that people tend to associate what the authors call “black-sounding names,” like DeShawn and Jamal, with larger, more violent people than they do “white-sounding names,” like Connor and Garrett.
“I’ve never been so disgusted by my own data,” Colin Holbrook, the lead author of the study, said in a statement. “The amount that our study participants assumed based only on a name was remarkable. A character with a black-sounding name was assumed to be physically larger, more prone to aggression, and lower in status than a character with a white-sounding name.”
Again, we saw this in reaction to police shootings. People were a lot more likely to question the circumstances around even 12-year-old Tamir Rice’s death — and the conservative media was quick to characterize black victims as criminals.
These kinds of biases help explain why black people are much more likely to be shot and killed by police than their white counterparts. In 2016, for example, the Guardian found that police killed black Americans at a rate of 6.66 per 1 million people, versus 2.9 per 1 million for white Americans.
And the systemic biases also help explain why, even though white Americans are much less likely to be the victims of police, they may occasionally get much more sympathy from large segments of the public than black victims.
--------------------
A sign mocking the police in the Twin Cities of Minnesota.
Sunday, July 23, 2017
book: national security cinema
the cia in hollywood
"The CIA in Hollywood: How the Agency Shapes Film and Television," by Tricia Jenkins
Published by University of Texas Press (2013)
Reviewed by Julius Taranto
Though everyone would surely prefer otherwise, public relations
crises are part of the CIA’s ordinary business. The fact that so much of
its work is classified puts the Agency in one of those tricky,
plumber-like governmental roles: when it does its job right, no one
should notice. But when it screws up, there’s a mess, and things smell
awful.
The nature of any covert enterprise is rigged against popularity: the Agency can’t ordinarily brag about its hard-won successes or even update Americans with news of general competence. The FBI, by contrast, gets to issue press releases detailing high-profile arrests and convictions. But with rare exceptions, the CIA hits the front page only when something has gone badly sideways.
This asymmetry naturally gives rise to an image problem, so the CIA needs a way of loopholing if it wants to shape public perception. Fiction about the Agency—particularly television and movies, the most potent and culture-shaping mediums—has turned out to be that loophole. But it has its risks.
Depending on whom you ask, Hollywood has been either a great friend or a persistent foe in the CIA’s quest for a better public image. Some might point to media characterizations of the CIA as a rogue, hapless, or amoral institution. Just a few weeks ago, at the Agency’s request, New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd talked to members of Langley’s “sisterhood,” who were “fed up with the flock of fictional CIA women in movies and on TV who guzzle alcohol as they bed hop and drone drop, acting crazed and emotional, sleeping with terrorists and seducing assets.” The point of these interviews seemed to be to insist that CIA careers are actually much more boring and difficult than they look on television.
But more probing critics might highlight that the romanticized representation of spies in film has, in fact, been a boon to the Intelligence Community. Audiences are probably seduced rather than judgmental when fictional CIA officers fall short of perfect virtue. Homeland’s Carrie Mathison may not be a girl scout or a realistic CIA officer, but there’s no question that viewers are on her side, and that they care about her more than her buttoned-up colleagues, precisely because her flaws humanize her. The Agency—and everyone who likes spy movies—should hope Maureen Dowd’s column wasn’t too persuasive, because no one wants to watch a show about unmarred professionalism and competence. They’d watch The Americans instead.
Absent flawed, interesting protagonists, in other words, CIA-themed TV shows and movies would not exist for long. And that would mean that the only time the public hears or thinks about the CIA is when the Agency is in the news, and something has probably gone wrong. So the entertainment industry’s efforts to portray the Agency hinge, paradoxically, on depicting a more flawed version of the Agency as an institution than is realistic, while depicting individual Agency officials as less lawful, less professional, and less virtuous than is realistic, either. Though possibly the most damaging effect of the television shows is not about the professionalism of individual agents or the Agency, or lack thereof, but instead that because budget constraints push TV production to take place in US locales, not abroad, the general public probably understands that Carrie Mathison is not exactly typical of Langley—but is quite unaware that the CIA is prohibited by law from operating on US soil at all.
Understanding that spy movies and shows will be produced with or without the Agency’s cooperation, Langley has established a suitably quiet relationship with the entertainment industry in the interest of securing Hollywood portrayals that are at least half-accurate, if not cloyingly positive. That Agency-Industry engagement is the topic of Tricia Jenkins’s, well, frankly underwhelming book, The CIA in Hollywood. Her effort contains a few interesting historical anecdotes, but it ultimately fails to do justice to an underserved, rich, and timely topic.
II
Here’s one anecdote: twenty years ago, following the collapse of the U.S.S.R. and the Aldrich Ames scandal, there was skeptical chatter about the CIA’s continued usefulness. Rep. Dan Glickman, then the chairman of the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence, and Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan both publicly questioned whether the CIA should have a future. The Agency met this image problem-turned-existential threat by commissioning a network television show called The Classified Files of the C.I.A. It was to be modeled on the 1960s FBI image-vehicle The F.B.I., and it would feature a real, declassified CIA case each week. Langley would feed fact patterns to the producers, who would use them as the basis for a story and sell the show based in part on its authenticity.
The Classified Files of the C.I.A. never made it to air after the Agency and the show’s producers, Steve Tisch and Aaron Spelling, parted ways over creative differences. But if Jenkins’s account of the concept is even a little accurate, the (alas) never seen two-hour pilot episode sounds like a masterpiece of clunky and humorless propaganda that was, for the Agency’s sake, probably best kept classified. Later, after this failed attempt to micromanage professional Hollywood micromanagers, Langley opted for a lighter touch. Rather than developing its own content, it began reaching out to filmmakers already working on Agency-related projects and offering them insider expertise—and sometimes use of the CIA’s facilities, equipment, or official seal—in exchange for some influence over how the Agency would be portrayed.
This was the project of longtime CIA officer Chase Brandon, first cousin of Tommy Lee Jones and (not coincidentally) the first CIA Entertainment Industry Liaison. Brandon developed a process at Langley just like the Pentagon’s long-established Hollywood outreach program: guidance and advice are freely given, while filmmakers requesting something more costly—the use of equipment, shooting locations, or technical consultation—have their scripts reviewed to determine whether aiding production aligns with the Agency’s mission. When a filmmaker asks for more than guidance, script alterations are sometimes suggested in the name of authenticity and a more positive take on the Agency.
In Jenkins’s telling, the first two projects influenced by this system were In the Company of Spies and The Agency. After 9/11, there were a slew of others, including Alias, The Sum of All Fears, The Bourne Identity, and The Recruit. Jenkins tries to tell a story in which the Agency, allegedly in violation of the First Amendment, disingenuously attempts to twist spy movies to its own propagandistic ends and then withdraws vital support from filmmakers who refuse to capitulate. The argument is that this unequal treatment of filmmakers based only on their different characterizations of the Agency amounts to an unconstitutional suppression of speech. Where to begin? It’s hard to swallow that Jenkins is shocked, shocked to find that public relations is going on here! Beyond that, even by her own account of which movies Langley lent its hand to and which it didn’t, it’s difficult to discern any kind of consistent pattern of positivity in these films that isn’t already implied by having a CIA officer as a sympathetic protagonist.
For example, despite the fact that neither film takes a terribly positive view of Langley, both The Bourne Identity and The Recruit feature Chase Brandon in the DVD’s “extra features” segments discussing what the Agency is really like. It’s a good move—hey, we all enjoy a good movie and, no problem, we’re kind of flattered being the villains—now here’s something to show you what we’re really about. By contrast, another Agency-aided film, The Sum of All Fears, has some rather heavy-handed touches of CIA cheerleading. (Here’s CIA analyst Jack Ryan, the cool head in an apocalyptic crisis: “The President is basing his decisions on some really bad information right now. And if you shut me out, your family, and my family, and twenty-five million other families will be dead in thirty minutes. My orders are to get the right information to the people who make the decisions.”)
A flawed or overdramatic presentation of the CIA is probably better for Langley than none at all, and over the years the Agency has supported a wide array of films. Even portrayals that caricature the Agency as an institution of ungoverned, amoral assassins aren’t necessarily so bad from a public relations standpoint: they’ll still have a thrilling, outlaw power to them. It’s not despite James Bond’s license to kill that we find him so alluring. The more critical (Syriana, The Good Shepherd) or fantastical (Alias, The Bourne Identity) films likely still help with Agency recruitment (if not internal morale). But Jenkins—an obvious, agenda-driven skeptic of the Agency—rests her whole argument on the simplistic premise that the CIA is flatly against inaccurate or uncharitable appearances in film. If that’s an Agency line, it certainly isn’t the whole picture.
By no fault of its own, Jenkins’s book suffers from a just-too-soon publication date. It doesn’t reach Zero Dark Thirty and the investigation into the screenwriter Mark Boal’s help from Langley. Jenkins also doesn’t have a chance to talk much about eventual Best Picture winner Argo, which centers on the Agency’s creation of a fake Hollywood production company (so convincing that Steven Spielberg and George Lucas submitted screenplays) in order to rescue six hostages from Tehran. Alas, there could hardly be two more fitting moments from which to launch a discussion of the coy romance between Hollywood and the Agency.
The book also declines to connect the Agency’s current entertainment industry efforts to its long history of cultural influence. (Just one example of this—and maybe an opportunity for some future inquiry—was the CIA role in generating early funding and prestige for the now-famous Iowa Writer’s Workshop.) And Jenkins only mentions in passing Langley’s relationship with USC’s Institute for Creative Technologies, where Industry professionals workshop threat scenarios and develop military and intelligence tools. So there are gaps in Jenkins’s coverage, and it misses an opportunity for a larger intellectual discussion about the proper role of a democratic government and its agencies, covert or overt, in the promotion of its foundational political ideas—but the book at least cracks the door on some undeniably cool topics.
III
When the CIA first reached out to Hollywood, it was facing questions about the fundamental utility of centralized intelligence after the collapse of the Soviet Union. But after 9/11, the Agency was vaulted to a position of prominence and is unlikely to face such skepticism about its significance anytime soon. This has surely given Langley more latitude in the types of films it can support, in addition to inclining filmmakers to think harder, and more charitably, about what the Agency does and why.
With doubters banished and solid funding, the Agency would now likely prefer to return to its role as a good plumber—where nothing goes wrong, and no one pays attention. But the occasional real scandal or high-profile movie seems inevitable. Intelligence will continue to be fertile ground for high-stakes storytelling, especially while terrorism remains in the headlines. So the question remains how to make the best of an unwanted spotlight. The CIA has a place in Hollywood, whether it wants one or not.
(Julius Taranto, a Student Fellow of the Yale Law School Information Society Project, was a writer in Los Angeles before entering law school.)
Reviewed by Julius Taranto
The nature of any covert enterprise is rigged against popularity: the Agency can’t ordinarily brag about its hard-won successes or even update Americans with news of general competence. The FBI, by contrast, gets to issue press releases detailing high-profile arrests and convictions. But with rare exceptions, the CIA hits the front page only when something has gone badly sideways.
This asymmetry naturally gives rise to an image problem, so the CIA needs a way of loopholing if it wants to shape public perception. Fiction about the Agency—particularly television and movies, the most potent and culture-shaping mediums—has turned out to be that loophole. But it has its risks.
Depending on whom you ask, Hollywood has been either a great friend or a persistent foe in the CIA’s quest for a better public image. Some might point to media characterizations of the CIA as a rogue, hapless, or amoral institution. Just a few weeks ago, at the Agency’s request, New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd talked to members of Langley’s “sisterhood,” who were “fed up with the flock of fictional CIA women in movies and on TV who guzzle alcohol as they bed hop and drone drop, acting crazed and emotional, sleeping with terrorists and seducing assets.” The point of these interviews seemed to be to insist that CIA careers are actually much more boring and difficult than they look on television.
But more probing critics might highlight that the romanticized representation of spies in film has, in fact, been a boon to the Intelligence Community. Audiences are probably seduced rather than judgmental when fictional CIA officers fall short of perfect virtue. Homeland’s Carrie Mathison may not be a girl scout or a realistic CIA officer, but there’s no question that viewers are on her side, and that they care about her more than her buttoned-up colleagues, precisely because her flaws humanize her. The Agency—and everyone who likes spy movies—should hope Maureen Dowd’s column wasn’t too persuasive, because no one wants to watch a show about unmarred professionalism and competence. They’d watch The Americans instead.
Absent flawed, interesting protagonists, in other words, CIA-themed TV shows and movies would not exist for long. And that would mean that the only time the public hears or thinks about the CIA is when the Agency is in the news, and something has probably gone wrong. So the entertainment industry’s efforts to portray the Agency hinge, paradoxically, on depicting a more flawed version of the Agency as an institution than is realistic, while depicting individual Agency officials as less lawful, less professional, and less virtuous than is realistic, either. Though possibly the most damaging effect of the television shows is not about the professionalism of individual agents or the Agency, or lack thereof, but instead that because budget constraints push TV production to take place in US locales, not abroad, the general public probably understands that Carrie Mathison is not exactly typical of Langley—but is quite unaware that the CIA is prohibited by law from operating on US soil at all.
Understanding that spy movies and shows will be produced with or without the Agency’s cooperation, Langley has established a suitably quiet relationship with the entertainment industry in the interest of securing Hollywood portrayals that are at least half-accurate, if not cloyingly positive. That Agency-Industry engagement is the topic of Tricia Jenkins’s, well, frankly underwhelming book, The CIA in Hollywood. Her effort contains a few interesting historical anecdotes, but it ultimately fails to do justice to an underserved, rich, and timely topic.
II
Here’s one anecdote: twenty years ago, following the collapse of the U.S.S.R. and the Aldrich Ames scandal, there was skeptical chatter about the CIA’s continued usefulness. Rep. Dan Glickman, then the chairman of the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence, and Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan both publicly questioned whether the CIA should have a future. The Agency met this image problem-turned-existential threat by commissioning a network television show called The Classified Files of the C.I.A. It was to be modeled on the 1960s FBI image-vehicle The F.B.I., and it would feature a real, declassified CIA case each week. Langley would feed fact patterns to the producers, who would use them as the basis for a story and sell the show based in part on its authenticity.
The Classified Files of the C.I.A. never made it to air after the Agency and the show’s producers, Steve Tisch and Aaron Spelling, parted ways over creative differences. But if Jenkins’s account of the concept is even a little accurate, the (alas) never seen two-hour pilot episode sounds like a masterpiece of clunky and humorless propaganda that was, for the Agency’s sake, probably best kept classified. Later, after this failed attempt to micromanage professional Hollywood micromanagers, Langley opted for a lighter touch. Rather than developing its own content, it began reaching out to filmmakers already working on Agency-related projects and offering them insider expertise—and sometimes use of the CIA’s facilities, equipment, or official seal—in exchange for some influence over how the Agency would be portrayed.
This was the project of longtime CIA officer Chase Brandon, first cousin of Tommy Lee Jones and (not coincidentally) the first CIA Entertainment Industry Liaison. Brandon developed a process at Langley just like the Pentagon’s long-established Hollywood outreach program: guidance and advice are freely given, while filmmakers requesting something more costly—the use of equipment, shooting locations, or technical consultation—have their scripts reviewed to determine whether aiding production aligns with the Agency’s mission. When a filmmaker asks for more than guidance, script alterations are sometimes suggested in the name of authenticity and a more positive take on the Agency.
In Jenkins’s telling, the first two projects influenced by this system were In the Company of Spies and The Agency. After 9/11, there were a slew of others, including Alias, The Sum of All Fears, The Bourne Identity, and The Recruit. Jenkins tries to tell a story in which the Agency, allegedly in violation of the First Amendment, disingenuously attempts to twist spy movies to its own propagandistic ends and then withdraws vital support from filmmakers who refuse to capitulate. The argument is that this unequal treatment of filmmakers based only on their different characterizations of the Agency amounts to an unconstitutional suppression of speech. Where to begin? It’s hard to swallow that Jenkins is shocked, shocked to find that public relations is going on here! Beyond that, even by her own account of which movies Langley lent its hand to and which it didn’t, it’s difficult to discern any kind of consistent pattern of positivity in these films that isn’t already implied by having a CIA officer as a sympathetic protagonist.
For example, despite the fact that neither film takes a terribly positive view of Langley, both The Bourne Identity and The Recruit feature Chase Brandon in the DVD’s “extra features” segments discussing what the Agency is really like. It’s a good move—hey, we all enjoy a good movie and, no problem, we’re kind of flattered being the villains—now here’s something to show you what we’re really about. By contrast, another Agency-aided film, The Sum of All Fears, has some rather heavy-handed touches of CIA cheerleading. (Here’s CIA analyst Jack Ryan, the cool head in an apocalyptic crisis: “The President is basing his decisions on some really bad information right now. And if you shut me out, your family, and my family, and twenty-five million other families will be dead in thirty minutes. My orders are to get the right information to the people who make the decisions.”)
A flawed or overdramatic presentation of the CIA is probably better for Langley than none at all, and over the years the Agency has supported a wide array of films. Even portrayals that caricature the Agency as an institution of ungoverned, amoral assassins aren’t necessarily so bad from a public relations standpoint: they’ll still have a thrilling, outlaw power to them. It’s not despite James Bond’s license to kill that we find him so alluring. The more critical (Syriana, The Good Shepherd) or fantastical (Alias, The Bourne Identity) films likely still help with Agency recruitment (if not internal morale). But Jenkins—an obvious, agenda-driven skeptic of the Agency—rests her whole argument on the simplistic premise that the CIA is flatly against inaccurate or uncharitable appearances in film. If that’s an Agency line, it certainly isn’t the whole picture.
By no fault of its own, Jenkins’s book suffers from a just-too-soon publication date. It doesn’t reach Zero Dark Thirty and the investigation into the screenwriter Mark Boal’s help from Langley. Jenkins also doesn’t have a chance to talk much about eventual Best Picture winner Argo, which centers on the Agency’s creation of a fake Hollywood production company (so convincing that Steven Spielberg and George Lucas submitted screenplays) in order to rescue six hostages from Tehran. Alas, there could hardly be two more fitting moments from which to launch a discussion of the coy romance between Hollywood and the Agency.
The book also declines to connect the Agency’s current entertainment industry efforts to its long history of cultural influence. (Just one example of this—and maybe an opportunity for some future inquiry—was the CIA role in generating early funding and prestige for the now-famous Iowa Writer’s Workshop.) And Jenkins only mentions in passing Langley’s relationship with USC’s Institute for Creative Technologies, where Industry professionals workshop threat scenarios and develop military and intelligence tools. So there are gaps in Jenkins’s coverage, and it misses an opportunity for a larger intellectual discussion about the proper role of a democratic government and its agencies, covert or overt, in the promotion of its foundational political ideas—but the book at least cracks the door on some undeniably cool topics.
III
When the CIA first reached out to Hollywood, it was facing questions about the fundamental utility of centralized intelligence after the collapse of the Soviet Union. But after 9/11, the Agency was vaulted to a position of prominence and is unlikely to face such skepticism about its significance anytime soon. This has surely given Langley more latitude in the types of films it can support, in addition to inclining filmmakers to think harder, and more charitably, about what the Agency does and why.
With doubters banished and solid funding, the Agency would now likely prefer to return to its role as a good plumber—where nothing goes wrong, and no one pays attention. But the occasional real scandal or high-profile movie seems inevitable. Intelligence will continue to be fertile ground for high-stakes storytelling, especially while terrorism remains in the headlines. So the question remains how to make the best of an unwanted spotlight. The CIA has a place in Hollywood, whether it wants one or not.
(Julius Taranto, a Student Fellow of the Yale Law School Information Society Project, was a writer in Los Angeles before entering law school.)
Friday, July 21, 2017
Revised: Silent Night, the New Negro National Anthem, no more Lift Every Voice and Sing
Silent Night
Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child
Holy Infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace (2x)
Silent night, holy night!....
dreams of freedom in another life,
Deaf dumb blind this life
Like Hiram Biff in shallow grave
Looking for Jesus to save
rise up Lazarus
Jesus said
don't worry Mary
Martha don't moan
I got Lazarus in my arms
rise up Lazarus
Jesus said
don't worry Mary
Martha don't moan
I got Lazarus in my arms
Silent night holy night
All is calm all is bright
Passive mild like virgin child
Homeless nameless
Lost and turned out
On way to grandmother’s house
Silent night holy night
All is calm all is bright
Get off yo knees crying blues
Wake up everybody to good news
You walk with Jesus
You walk in his shoes…
Silent night holy night
all is calm all is bright....
--Marvin X
8/21/17
black woman is god exhibit
Co-curated by Karen Seneferu and Melorra Green The Black Woman is God: Divine Revolution is a group visual art exhibition with free admission celebrating the Black female presence as the highest spiritual form. More than 60 intergenerational artists working in sculpture, painting, new media, and photography create new myths to challenge Eurocentric notions of God.
Co-curators Seneferu and Green envision The Black Woman is God not only as an exhibition, but as a movement-building platform that explores the intersections of race and gender, dismantling racist and patriarchal notions that devalue Black women’s contributions to society. Now in its second iteration at SOMArts, The Black Woman is God: Divine Revolutionreveals Black women’s divinity and resilience despite intergenerational trauma and suppressed creativity.
Activated by live performances and a community cyper at the opening reception, The Black Woman is God asserts that subverting our notions of God is a spiritual and revolutionary act. As a statement by participating artists explains, “This exhibition is about Black women taking back their time, their rest, their dreams, and their creativity as a divine critical act, revealing how prayer and the convergences of women’s lives become transcendent through love.”
Opening with a public reception on Thursday, July 20, 6–10pm, The Black Woman is God will be activated by a performance procession of 100 Black women paying tribute to Black people who have worked tirelessly to heal the community through art, culture, and spirituality. The procession titled Opening the Way will include Black elders, youth, and girls who will walk from SOMArts’ parking lot to the gallery to honor their ancestors in an African libation before the performances begin.
The opening reception will also include performances by jazz musician Destiny Muhammad among many other legendary Bay Area performers.
Marissa Arterberry, “Kreation Funkstress,” Acrylic paint, oil pastel, and glitter on canvas, 2014.
Exhibiting artist Marissa Arterberry’s series of paintings titled The Funktresses is inspired by the aesthetics and soul of funk musicians — highlighting Black women’s influence on the musical genre.
A musician herself, Zakiya Harris’s video for the song Abracadabrakafrikareveals the community-building power of asserting the divinity of Black women.
Yasmin Sayyed, “Complicated, lovely Sisters,” Acrylic on canvas. 2016.
Yasmin Sayyed’s painting Breath of Divinity connects to healing through an embrace of cosmologies of the African diaspora — reaching across generations to access ancestral traditions that have been erased by racist and colonial histories.
Fan Lee Warren, “She Forgot Where She Comes From,” Acrylic on paper, 2017.
Fan Lee Warren’s multimedia painting also reaches through history, depicting archetypes of Black women artists, healers, and leaders to reveal the forgotten and erased histories of Black female divinity.
On Friday, August 25 & Saturday, August 26, from 8:00pm-midnight, Night Light: Multimedia & Performance Festival blankets SOMArts in luminous art installations, including audiovisual performances and performative interventions by over 25 artists, and digital and cinematic projections by over 20 artists. Tickets are $12 in advance and $15 at the door, or $20 for guaranteed entry to both nights of the festival. Advance tickets are available online now at: http://nightlightparty2017.eventbrite.com.
Now in its seventh year, Night Light utilizes SOMArts’ entire post-industrial space and grounds, including the garden path, street-side loading bay, theater, Bay Gallery and Main Gallery.
This year Night Light responds to the themes of The Black Woman is Godby presenting visual art installations and performances by artists of many gender identities and cultural backgrounds that reclaims the African cultural narrative of God being a Black woman.
THE BLACK WOMAN IS GOD
EXHIBITING ARTISTS
2AM
Ajuan Mance
Audacious Iam
Alise Eastgate
Angela Hennessy
Anna W. Edwards
Ayana Ivery
April Martin Chartrand
April Luvly Martin
Arinthia Jones
Ain Bailey
Bushmama Africa
Cynthia Brannvall
Djenne Ba Dynna Batties
Dawn Rudd
Dalila Dynes
Elizabeth Summers
Erica Deeman
Francis Mead
Fan Lee Warren
Heru
Hilda Robinson
Idris Hassan
JaeMe Bereal
KaliMa Amilak
Karen Oyekanmi
Karen Seneferu
karin turner
Kathleen McDonald
Kiwii McLaurin
Kimberly Johnson
Kristina “Namastina” Williams
Kristine Mays
Ladi Rev
Lakiba Pittman
Latisha Baker
Lili Bernard
Lorraine Bonner
Marissa Arterberry
Mizan Alkebul-Abakah
Maya Wamukota
Marnika Shelton
Nzinga Hatch
Nicole Dixon
Nye’ Lyn Tho
Orlonda Uffre
Redwood Hill
Rosalind McGray
Rosalyn Parhams
Sage Stargate
Sasha Kelly
Shanna Strauss
Shylah Hamilton
Sonjhai Meggette
Taiwo & Kehinde
Tania L. Balan-Gaubert
Tarika Lewis
Toshia Christal
Val Kai
Virginia Jourdan
Valerie Brown-Troutt
Venus Morris
Vanessa Addison Williams
Wawi Amasha
Worldly Sistah–Tracy Brown
Yetunde Olagbaju
Yasmin Sayyed
Zakiya Harris
Zena Carlota
EXHIBITING ARTISTS
2AM
Ajuan Mance
Audacious Iam
Alise Eastgate
Angela Hennessy
Anna W. Edwards
Ayana Ivery
April Martin Chartrand
April Luvly Martin
Arinthia Jones
Ain Bailey
Bushmama Africa
Cynthia Brannvall
Djenne Ba Dynna Batties
Dawn Rudd
Dalila Dynes
Elizabeth Summers
Erica Deeman
Francis Mead
Fan Lee Warren
Heru
Hilda Robinson
Idris Hassan
JaeMe Bereal
KaliMa Amilak
Karen Oyekanmi
Karen Seneferu
karin turner
Kathleen McDonald
Kiwii McLaurin
Kimberly Johnson
Kristina “Namastina” Williams
Kristine Mays
Ladi Rev
Lakiba Pittman
Latisha Baker
Lili Bernard
Lorraine Bonner
Marissa Arterberry
Mizan Alkebul-Abakah
Maya Wamukota
Marnika Shelton
Nzinga Hatch
Nicole Dixon
Nye’ Lyn Tho
Orlonda Uffre
Redwood Hill
Rosalind McGray
Rosalyn Parhams
Sage Stargate
Sasha Kelly
Shanna Strauss
Shylah Hamilton
Sonjhai Meggette
Taiwo & Kehinde
Tania L. Balan-Gaubert
Tarika Lewis
Toshia Christal
Val Kai
Virginia Jourdan
Valerie Brown-Troutt
Venus Morris
Vanessa Addison Williams
Wawi Amasha
Worldly Sistah–Tracy Brown
Yetunde Olagbaju
Yasmin Sayyed
Zakiya Harris
Zena Carlota
RELATED EVENTS
Exhibition
July 20–August 26, 2017
Gallery hours: Tuesday–Friday 12–7pm & Saturday 12–5pm
The exhibition is free to visit during gallery hours and during the opening reception. SOMArts Cultural Center is located at 934 Brannan St. (between 8th & 9th Streets), San Francisco, CA, 94103. SOMArts is wheelchair/ADA accessible. More information on accessibility is available here.
Exhibition
July 20–August 26, 2017
Gallery hours: Tuesday–Friday 12–7pm & Saturday 12–5pm
The exhibition is free to visit during gallery hours and during the opening reception. SOMArts Cultural Center is located at 934 Brannan St. (between 8th & 9th Streets), San Francisco, CA, 94103. SOMArts is wheelchair/ADA accessible. More information on accessibility is available here.
Opening Reception
Thursday, July 20, 6pm–midnight
The opening night celebration kicks off with live music and participatory dance celebration in the Gallery. To learn more, visit www.somarts.org/theblackwomanisgodopening2017.
Thursday, July 20, 6pm–midnight
The opening night celebration kicks off with live music and participatory dance celebration in the Gallery. To learn more, visit www.somarts.org/theblackwomanisgodopening2017.
Wikipedia Edit-a-Thon
Saturday, July 22, 1–4pm
SOMArts, the California Digital Library and Art Practical present a Wikipedia Edit-a-Thon in conjunction with The Black Woman is God to raise the online visibility of Black women artists and challenge the gaps in art history that erase or minimize Black women’s contributions as artists, activists and social change-makers. To learn more, visit www.somarts.org/theblackwomanisgodwikipedia.
Saturday, July 22, 1–4pm
SOMArts, the California Digital Library and Art Practical present a Wikipedia Edit-a-Thon in conjunction with The Black Woman is God to raise the online visibility of Black women artists and challenge the gaps in art history that erase or minimize Black women’s contributions as artists, activists and social change-makers. To learn more, visit www.somarts.org/theblackwomanisgodwikipedia.
Night Light: Multimedia & Performance Festival
Friday, August 25 & Saturday, August 26, 8:00pm–midnight
Luminous art installations, including audiovisual performances and performative interventions by over 25 artists, and digital and cinematic projections by over 20 artists. Tickets are $12 in advance online or $15 at the door, or $20 to attend both nights of the Festival. http://nightlightparty2017.eventbrite.com
Friday, August 25 & Saturday, August 26, 8:00pm–midnight
Luminous art installations, including audiovisual performances and performative interventions by over 25 artists, and digital and cinematic projections by over 20 artists. Tickets are $12 in advance online or $15 at the door, or $20 to attend both nights of the Festival. http://nightlightparty2017.eventbrite.com
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