Bigelow and Ortiz are each scapegoats, focal points for debates forced by the failures not of individuals, but of entire institutions.
Two tragic events last Friday have prompted heated debate about torture, secrecy, freedom of information, and prosecutors run amok. But are critics assigning blame where due, or merely where convenient?
And is the convenient option too charitable, letting powerful systems of oppression off the hook in favor of scapegoating only the most visible perpetrators?
First (only because it’s an anniversary and was therefore predictable) was the 11th year of military detention at Guantánamo Bay, where prisoners under US control have endured torture–and in some cases, been murdered in custody while their deaths have been presented in public as suicides.
The military detention scheme at Guantánamo has existed for over a decade, but the use of torture remains clouded in secrecy.
In the middle of the raging healthcare debate in 2009, the one thing Congress could agree on was giving the Pentagon authority to hide evidence of its own criminal trail. Even though multiple courts ordered our government to release photos and videos held by the Pentagon that document widely implemented torture policies, that substantial body of criminal evidence remains secret to this day.
One of President Obama’s key appointments to the Justice Department was stalled for a year, before being withdrawn, because she committed the heresy of suggesting that DOJ actually enforce the law by prosecuting officials for human rights abuses.
Ultimately, Obama’s decision to resign accountability for torture ensured that discredited warmongers remained in Washington, where they continued their assault on the Constitution. A year ago, they secured a law extending military detention powers into the US, even beyond the Bush administration’s wildest dreams.
What do we know about torture? Apparently, only what Hollywood tells us.
Kathryn Bigelow’s controversial film Zero Dark Thirty supplies the public with plenty of facts (whether real or imagined) to fill the vacuum. Is it a work of fiction? A documentary? A Rorschach test?
Legions have rightly criticized Bigelow’s depiction of torture, lambasting the filmmaker’s careless insinuation that torture was ever useful (which it wasn’t) and reminding moviegoers that even if it was, it would remain illegal. Many have distributed flyers at theaters (like this one that we designed at BORDC) or chosen to boycott her work in awards ceremonies.
But who are the real culprits? Is it Hollywood’s fault that the public remains in the dark?
Three particular figures have gotten off especially easy–first when they committed crimes, again when they left government to return to positions of influence instead of prison cells, and yet again as Bigelow draws fire for depicting their crimes. Dick Cheney, John Yoo, and Ninth Circuit Judge Jay Bybee are the former officials who authorized torture in the first place, hid their illegal decisions from the American public, and then lobbied to avoid accountability for their universally abhorred crimes.
Bigelow is no hero. But it’s not her fault that the American people don’t have enough facts to recognize her movie as fiction.
His supporters have many good reasons for anger at the senseless prosecution that drove Aaron from a world that needs him, and others like him, so desperately. But who most deserves our criticism?