VLADIMIR LENIN ONCE PROCLAIMED, “Of all the arts, for us the cinema is the most important,” referring to its capacity to reach diverse populations. Throughout the history of cinema, it has proven to be one of the strongest tools used to express ideology. Whether it was the socialist realism films of the Soviet Union in the 1930’s, “Chollywood” in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, war-time propaganda films by the Japanese and American empire during WW2, the Japanese animated films of Studio Ghibli such as “Princess Mononoke” and “Grave of The Fireflies,” or recent films like Boots Riley’s “Sorry to Bother You” and Basel Adra and Yuval Abraham’s “No Other Land,” cinema serves the interest of whoever wields it, moral or immoral, oppressed or oppressor, socialist or capitalist.
I also have taken great inspiration from cinema that expresses ideological and political messaging. In my young intellectual journey, I have been contoured by the strands of philosophy that are existentialism and socialism. I am existentialist in spirit, and my intellectual guides have been existentialist. Jean-Paul Sartre, Albert Camus, Kierkegaard, Cornel West, Frantz Fanon, and others are my ideological architects. They celebrate the human experience and fight for qualities of freedom and justice. The existentialist concerns themself over our impending end, but also with the joys and sensations we experience now. No existentialist can consider the human experience without considering the structures that shape human existence. It is the duty and the concern of the existentialist to ensure our guiding structures grant autonomy, justice, freedom, and dignity. The guiding structure that does this best, in my opinion, is socialism.
When thinking about my intellectual education, cinema was a prominent tool. My favorite film, “It’s Such a Beautiful Day,” was powerful in giving way to my existentialist orientation, for it addressed some of my concerns around death, living a purposeful life, and how beautiful life can be, even in its most mundane moments. It was also Mambety’s “Touki Bouki” that taught me about the effects of colonialism, escapism from oppression, and the romanticization of imperial countries. In both cases, cinema, through its smorgasbord of musical scores, theatrical trappings, and artistic use of the camera, was foundational in my own intellectual makeup. I find it safe to assume this is the same for many others. While the impact may range, I would find it difficult to believe there are not many others who have had their worldview altered or changed through an experience with cinema. As mentioned previously, regimes like the U.S.S.R., North Korea, Japan, and the United States also recognize this fact.
In the wake of the 25th anniversary of the September 11th attacks, we can remember the ways cinema influenced the culture following that horrific day. The September 11th attacks on the World Trade Center in New York City and the Pentagon in the Washington, D.C., metro area, were a devastating tragedy that caused a tremendous loss of civilian life. Families grieved, the city was rattled, and an act of foreign terror was enacted on domestic grounds, something which rarely occurs in The United States. Understandably, this event altered the American zeitgeist. However, in the succeeding events, known as “The War on Terror,” the U.S. government used the tragedy as a political tool to justify going after nations such as Afghanistan and Iraq, suppressing political dissent through the Patriot Act, establishing extralegal imprisonment in the the Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay facilities, and encouraging a growing rise in jingoistic sentiment. The cinema of the times reflected many facets of the aftermath. Some were more sentimental, such as “United 93” and “World Trade Center.” Later films would acknowledge the nuance of the situation, such as “Green Zone.” Even the Marvel Cinematic Universe used heroes, such as Captain America, to question state power and surveillance. However, there existed many action films which reflected a kind of uber-patriotism that simplified the entire conflict. Films such as “American Sniper,” “Lone Survivor,” and “Zero Dark Thirty” all showcased a brave, patriotic, American hero that stands up for what is right and defeats the evil foreign villain.
The issue in all of this is that cinema was used as a tool for ideological reinforcement of the prevailing attitude in American culture in the aftermath of 9/11. While not all films were problematic, the action films that glamorized wars in Afghanistan and Iraq reduced America’s enemies to terrorists and showcased the American military as a just and heroic force. This is of concern, as the American military and government were able to cause further destabilization in South and Western Asia, rally growing xenophobia against Muslims in the United States, commit grave atrocities against civilians in the region, and weaponize the tragedy against political dissenters.
While cinema was not directly causing this, it served as ideological reinforcement; the popular action films post-9/11 presented a black and white conflict that portrayed America as moral and the South and Western Asian countries as terroristic villains. This of course was not just present in cinema, for many other domains, like music and professional wrestling, also perpetuated this mythos. In music, country musicians like Tobey Keith released the retributive and aggressive track, “Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue,” and Darryl Worley’s song, “Have You Forgotten,” which seeks to remind the American public why the War on Terror was necessary. The character of Muhammad Hassan in the WWE from 2004-5 was positioned as a heel character, meaning “bad guy.” Even though Hassan made valid points on the growing islamophobia in the United States post-9/11, he was mercilessly booed and defeated by American hero babyfaces, meaning “good guys,” such as Hulk Hogan.
In the case of 9/11, we can clearly see how the dissemination of ideology through cinema can be both good and bad. There is no moral value in cinema, as it purely exists as a tool that can be wielded by anyone. In terms of my understanding of 9/11, cinema shaped my outlook as well. We can look no further than to Dixon’s 1973 film, “The Spook Who Sat by the Door,” to examine a differing perspective on the events that led to and occurred after September 11th. While this film is not directly related to the events of 9/11, it does cover a fundamental concept one should keep in mind when thinking about 9/11: Blowback. In politics, this idea refers to the unintended, hidden, or negative consequences of a nation’s foreign policy plan that affects the nation and its civilian population.
Based on the novel of the same name, this film was directed by Ivan Dixon and released in 1973. The film follows a secret Black militant who undergoes CIA training as a part of an initiative to increase the number of Black agents in the CIA, which is spurred on by a politician seeking the Black vote in an electoral race. Dan Freeman, the main character, outperforms everyone and gets a desk job at the front, an action of performative inclusion that does not bother with much structural change. Dan quits and moves back to Chicago, now using the information and skills he learned from the CIA to organize a revolutionary resistance movement called “The Cobras.” The group steals weaponry, robs banks to raise money, and carries out armed attacks against the police force. They engage in rioting, propaganda, and even take over radio shows. The national guard is called in to deal with the movement, but the revolutionaries stand their ground. Freeman’s friend, a police officer, attempts to arrest him before getting stabbed by Dan in a brief physical struggle. The events in Chicago are declared a state of national emergency, and the film ends with a cliffhanger.
The film captures a lot about leftist and Black revolutionary politics. With the accoutrement of Herbie Hancock’s funky and jazzy score, it grants the viewer a manual guide on political organizing, engaging in guerrilla warfare, and using the enemy’s knowledge against themselves. The film's Black political dimensions come through in its critique of tokenism as a form of political justice, instead opting for the armed resistances and self-determination of oppressed peoples, championed by political Black leaders such as Fred Hampton, Huey Newton, Kwame Ture, and Angela Davis. It is the cinematic version of the “Anarchist Cookbook.” The film was so controversial that the author, Sam Greenlee, believes there was FBI suppression, as theaters quit screening the film abruptly. The film was lost for decades, only available through bootleg video until 2004 through the efforts of actor Tim Reid. In 2012, the film was officially added to the National Film Registry.
In Dixon’s film, we see how the concept of “blowback” occurs in politics. While not demonstrated in the film, we are aware of the historical and contemporary ways the American system stigmatizes, harms, and oppresses the Black community. For centuries, the status quo has been anti-Black, with no moment of reprieve or reparations. When diplomatic action leads nowhere, many run into the arms of violence and revolution. In this film, Dan takes the training of the American government and uses it against them. The bombs, the explosives, the propaganda, and the organized guerrilla action are all things Dan takes from the American government.
If we extrapolate this, we can see how the CIA’s involvement in Afghanistan, against that of the Soviet Union, is similar. The CIA provided billions of dollars, weaponry, and training, an effort known as “Operation Cyclone,” to the Mujahideen who resisted the Soviet Union. The U.S.S.R. was the first major power to recognize the independence of Afghanistan in 1919, and the two countries had developed close ties, though Afghanistan was economically dependent on the Soviets. With the successful rise of the opposing Mujahideen, the Soviets were forced out. From the resulting destabilization, new factions emerged–including Al-Qaeda. After the defeat of the Soviets, the new jihadist organization focused its attention on the government that created the conditions for their existence, that being the United States. This focus mainly stemmed from America’s involvement in West Asia. In 1988, Al Qaeda bombed the U.S. Embassies of Kenya and Tanzania. Then, in 2001, they struck the twin towers in New York and the Pentagon, and attempted to strike either the Capitol or White House on United Airlines Flight 93. Nearly 3,000 innocent civilians lost their lives.
As Dan says in the film, “You cannot cage people like animals and not expect them to fight back someday.” While much nuance exists, the foreign policy affairs of the American government and its constant meddling in the region to achieve its own interest had a contributing role in the destabilization, radicalization, and eventual death of thousands of people on September 11th. In Dixon’s film, the politicians treat Black people as political pawns and rabid animals not capable of political organizing. Both cases, the events leading to 9/11 and Dixon’s film, reflect a perspective that treats populations as puppets, as means to an end, regardless of what life is lost and what dehumanization takes place. The cinema, whether for propaganda of the state, for xenophobic or jingoistic sentiments, or for an expression of revolutionary spirit, serves as a powerful disseminator of ideology. I believe it is in the interest of all socialist movements to be the most effective and artistic wielders of the cinema, for if we wish to influence the masses, we must televise the revolution.
