#majabogojevic

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Truth and simulacrum: whose timeline is it? — Maja Bogojević on Possessed

Factuality itself depends for its continued existence upon the existence of the nontotalitarian world (Hannah Arendt)

Possessed, the latest film made by Metahaven—the collective name of artists and designers Vinca Kruk and Daniel van der Velden—in collaboration with documentary filmmaker Rob Schröder, takes their radical aesthetics and progressive politics a step further from their previous film The Sprawl: Propaganda about Propaganda. Their new hybrid artwork revisits the themes of contradictions and paradoxes of multiple realities, geopolitical landscapes, new technologies, power discourse and ensuing alienation in the age of “post-truth.” Similarly to The Sprawl, this film is not easy to categorise, as it explores the notions of consumer discourse, privacy, secrecy, transparency, surveillance, veiling and unveiling, the impact of social media networks and anarchic utopianism of the internet architecture on our individual and collective lives. Through a documented collage, blending a series of drawings, photographs, animated graphics, documentary footage and fictional reconstruction, it refers to various socio-historical narratives and their processes of subordination, power and inequality, commented upon by a single but multi-fold voice-over in a non-linear narrative, which breaks and fragments in order to not only reflect the fragmentation of multi-layered realities we live in, but also to challenge them.

Possessed begins with the images of burning smart phones, war-devastated cities and landscapes, and a water spring flowing over large dark stones, overlapping with the opening narrated question:

“Would you believe?”

These first spoken words trigger a series of questions relating to the search not of the ultimate truth, but of potential truths amidst fakeness and a fixed set of beliefs regardless of the information overload diversity. The answer is, inevitably, “no”. 

But the answer to the question “Would you believe in angels?” is, in the age of cynicism and hypocrisy, a surprising “yes”. This abruptly shifts the initial dystopian tone, foreshadowing the underlying final humanistic message of the film, although “there is no hope” (“what for?”) and there is no answer to the question “would you love?”, followed by the sound of a human breathing next to a smartphone. In this prologue, before the opening credits unfold, Possessed suggests in medias res that the centre of the human universe is a smartphone. The next image shows more clearly a girl lying on a bare mattressed bed, in a ruined house devoid of any furniture, with the presence of only one object—a smartphone. She greets the viewers with the words—both vocal and written—“welcome to the modern age”, followed by:

“You may think that this is a house. But there is no house. You may think that this is a girl. But there is no girl. Don’t ask me who I am.” 

Examining the complex mutual relationship between the socio-political context and the work of art which documents the historic period it emerged in, the words are intercut with film negatives of houses, a helicopter, the ‘invisible’ humans (“you never noticed me, I wouldn’t be missed”), a footage of Pope Francis, all accompanied with smartphone selfies made with a raised arm in front of the masses of people and monuments.

 “When I was young, I was quiet, I didn’t talk with the others, we never talk, we message… All tenderness is radical in a broken world”… “I want to know, what is a devil today? Do you want to hear the truth? Let the suffering speak. I am a breathing fragment of nothingness. Who lives or dies to care for me.”

This verbal segment is intercut with the images of the cross and a drawing of a hand collaged with the real human arm holding a smartphone, as the new disease to be cured of (by exorcism) seems to be—the reality. The raised arm holding a smartphone becomes the pervasive film symbol—it is present in Vatican, over the heads of a faceless mass, in restaurants, in shopping centres, in our empty homes, in the streets, it is everywhere—questioning the beliefs of people. Religion becomes a kind of superstition, because no matter what people ‘know’ in the information age, they still interpret the world and the reality according to their pre-existing fixed set of beliefs.

As Hannah Arendt puts it (in The origins of totalitarianism): “The true goal of totalitarian propaganda is not persuasion, but organization of the polity. ... What convinces masses are not facts, and not even invented facts, but only the consistency of the system of which they are presumably part of”.

Reconstructing artefacts of the recent and not-so-distant past, the film combines images, videos, TV, satellite/drone footage and an original narration into a seemingly incoherent and fragmented filmic reality, with many (meta)textual/discourse references, including videos of: Pope Francis in Rome, ruined Vukovar, Cologne, Aleppo, US soldiers’ flash mob dance in Afghanistan, Dubai fire and sandstorms, hurricane Katrina, migrant lines in Slovenia, queues of people in urban centres, glacier bridge collapse, statue of Liberty etc. Images of war-torn countries show demolished buildings, torn books, deserted homes with personal belongings left behind, posters hanging on the walls, newspapers, religious symbols etc. 

The multiplication of simultaneously run narratives and realities and fragmentation of both the individual and the collective are reflected in the film along the axis of mainstream media/state/corporate structures vs. people/media users/consumers, conveying the notion that our agency in the information process is taking less and less responsibility. The more fake news we are served, the more the ‘truth’ becomes important: the mainstream media (and political leaders) have never been more obsessed with it, insisting in their marketing slots that they are all “telling the truth”, echoing Hannah Arendt’s visionary words: “Mass propaganda discovered that its audience was ready at all times to believe the worst, no matter how absurd, and did not particularly object to being deceived because it held every statement to be a lie anyhow.”

And:

“The danger is not actual despotic control but fragmentation—that is, a people increasingly less capable of forming a common purpose and carrying it out. Fragmentation arises when people come to see themselves more and more atomistically, otherwise put, as less and less bound to their fellow citizens in common projects and allegiances.” (The origins of totalitarianism)

But because of the new media interface, there is a new level of complex fragmentation along the axes privacy/secrecy/transparency/surveillance and control/enslavement, causing a ‘mental implosion’, in Baudrillard’s terms—“simulacrum has been brought to perfection in the 21st century thanks to media interface.” The collaged images of face recognition software, smart phone pervasiveness, the statue of Liberty, war-devastated buildings, torn books, “god land” with a Vodafone tower in the background suggest that mainstream media and dominant consumer discourses tailor their surveillance methods according to the selling/consuming axis or what they perceive as fit for their consumers’ needs. What the overload of information has brought is the illusory display of capitalist consumers’ choices (various kinds of coffee, carrot cakes, brownies, smoothies), but there are no nuances in interpretation of cultural texts, and this precisely helps to sustain the capitalist order. As corporate profit dictates consumers’ privacy, Baudrillard’s “mental involution” (a phone is melting like a brain could be melting) is bound to materialise, leading to the loss of the autonomy of the agency, the collapse of subjectivity. The imaginary enemy is ‘identified’, the crisis is created, and innocents die as a result. 

“The truth?”, the narrator asks and answers: “Let the suffering speak”.

Metahaven’s concept of black transparency is reminiscent of Baudrillard’s concept of simulacrum “Simulacrum is never that which conceals the truth, but the truth conceals that it’s not there. Simulacrum is true.” One fact can arise from many models simultaneously and this anticipation and confusion between the fact and its model leaves space for all possible interpretations, even the most contradictory ones.  This is how the politically anomalous - what was regarded as political aberration – can become normalcy.

Hypocrisy, carnage of profile, masked identities, faceless multitudes…

“I grew up in a city of great wealth and beauty” – these words, as it is made clear by subsequent images, allude to the baroque town of Vukovar, destroyed in the Yugoslav war - the first majorly destroyed European town in a battle since World War 2.  A sign reads “18. 11. 1991 - Vukovar, sjecate se?” (“do you remember?”), with a series of images of a ghost town, with decaying, deserted streets, demolished buildings and houses, dead bodies, streams of survivors fleeing… reminiscent of today’s devastated Syria. The authenticity of such footage images evokes the importance of the responsibility of the human race in the face of war crimes and atrocities committed by humans.

Possessed, therefore, wants to remind of and challenge human indifference. The shots show rooms empty of furniture but full of books and papers from the period of the existence of Yugoslavia (which was also the leader of the non-aligned movement of the so-called  third-world countries): Marxism, Kumrovecki zapisi, Danas: Jugoslavija, samoupravljanje, svijet, Class struggle and socialist revolution etc. These and images of “red” books bargains, Mao posters, Russian symbols, accompanied by the sound of a Croatian traditional song (“Spavaj spavaj diticu”, to make a clear reference to the war in Croatia), are a testimony to the recent European past, as well as a statement against general amnesia that has marked both post-industrial and post-communist societies.

But, “the war is always somewhere else”. The photo of a passport is aligned next to the photos of war tanks, weapons and military airplanes. Footage shows US soldiers rejoicing and dancing to the sampled “music” of gunshot sounds in Afghanistan.

 The ‘others’ imply that their bodies are more disposable and mortal, and the pain of ‘others; seems to be peripheral to the human masses, in spite of the power of  photography and media. We have face recognition software, but what and how much of human suffering do we recognize in a photo/image? We get an easy automated response to our (consumer tailored) needs (Siri, hello?), but show no reactions to others. We appear to have google maps that locate everything, but there seem to be no ‘maps for human suffering’. “As one can become habituated to horror in real life, one can become habituated to the horror of certain images,” states Susan Sontag in Regarding the pain of others.

Statements such as “we obey a fictional eye” and “our faces were attuned to a watchful eye—to adjust to being seen and shared” question and interpellate the capacity of reason and observation, even ‘common sense’ of the uniform masses, as well as the authority of god.

Indifference ‘to the pain of others’ is underscored by the repeated images of selfies and posing smilingly for selfies with a stick – a prolonged arm for the phone, restaurant images of food and drinks and a supply of a crane for “the ultimate selfie” in order to share the ultimate happiness with the world. Thus, we have cranes for photos to be shared on social media and drones for more arrogant photos and bombs. In parallel realities, innocent people die and disappear in wars, but we insist on more of our presence around the globe, offering our joy to the world.

But is this happiness fake or real? If it is real, how real is it? Do we know we are happy or do we act by orders? “Smile, be happy.” The collapse of the subject in post-modern age of neo-totalitarianism, post-truth and post-Trump?

In The origins of totalitarianism, Arendt stated decades ago: “In an ever-changing, incomprehensible world the masses had reached the point where they would, at the same time, believe everything and nothing, think that everything was possible and that nothing was true. ... Mass propaganda discovered that its audience was ready at all times to believe the worst, no matter how absurd, and did not particularly object to being deceived because it held every statement to be a lie anyhow. The totalitarian mass leaders based their propaganda on the correct psychological assumption that, under such conditions, one could make people believe the most fantastic statements one day, and trust that if the next day they were given irrefutable proof of their falsehood, they would take refuge in cynicism; instead of deserting the leaders who had lied to them, they would protest that they had known all along that the statement  was a lie and would admire the leaders for their superior tactical cleverness”.

As the mutations of the image follow the shifts of historical narratives, so the collapse of the subject as well as networks seems to be imminent. A pamphlet-like verbal segment declares: “Delete your own self, the networks collapse… the screen is crushed, instagram and facebook collapse”, raising a new set of questions: have smartphones become more clever than our brains? Do we base our knowledge on networks? Will our subjectivity collapse with the collapse of networks? Will our arm break together with the stick for selfies?

 “The arrogance of the camera. This helicopter won’t come to the rescue. It will patiently film my killing”.

These words echo Susan Sontag’s statement that “the shock can become familiar: the ultra-familiar, ultra-celebrated image—of an agony, of ruin—is an unavoidable feature of our camera-mediated knowledge of war”. By analogy, they also mirror Glauber Rocha’s famous words that “the camera is a lie” or Jean-Luc Godard’s that “film is a reflection of the reality or the reality of reflection?” 

The irony and powerlessness of the proliferation of narratives and realities can be demonstrated further by another example (not shown in the film): the phenomenon of Ron Haviv’s photo taken during the Bosnian war in March 1992, and used by Jean-Luc Godard in his video masterpiece Je vous salue, Sarajevo (1993), which pictures the Serbian soldier Srdjan Golubovic treading over a Bosnian female victim’s head; Srdjan Golubovic later became a famous DJ Max performing in various night clubs in Serbia, until he was arrested in 2012 not as a war criminal, but for possession of drugs. 

“Good citizen, happy citizen, legal citizen, undocumented person, see-through person… I travelled here from far… I tried to forget what happened to me before I fled. No one believes me.  I have to be the evidence. I’m my own document”

This verbal narrative is intercut with the images of identity papers shown at borders, finger print scan check at airports, and “Ausländer” signs & grafitti, showing that, in spite of techno advances in industrial capitalism that might signal the arrival of a cyborg citizenship, the Western context, actually, reflects the return to hierarchy of white capitalist patriarchy, struggling with transculturality (which is one of the most significant influences of late post-modernity in Europe) and becoming more homogenous, closed and insecure at a time of increasing fascism and racism.

“You were quiet, you never talked”. “I” becomes “you” as an older “I” (the new generation) speaks to “you” in the future “that you never saw coming”. 

“Will it be enough to love yourself?”

Contradictions and paradoxes of technology suggest that human bodies have become a source of maximum exploitation in the visual age: is it the end of the image, the end of knowledge, of imagination? Is the future foreseeable based on facebook, instagram and twitter? New forms of expression and representation are needed to reflect the changing and challenged subjectivity in the process of becoming autonomous agents of knowledge.

As the film title suggests, we are all ‘possessed’ by multiple master narratives: by technological advances, corporate structures, general amnesia, by the collapsed subject, beliefs that border on superstition, by our “shared” need to broadcast our lives to the world, selfies, fake smiles, illusory happiness (“the device did one thing really well – it made us always smile”), fake choices, fake needs created by fake consumerist capitalist discourse, by our own voyeurism and exhibitionism, by insanity and monstrosity of political leaders, powerful consumerist discourse, by our own powerlessness and indifference, failure to take responsibility, by the absence of empathy and love (“love yourself”), possessed by our own negligence to use our ‘cultural mirror’ in the midst of the collapse of the notions of self, knowledge and truth. We have timelines, but no time in the age of multiplication of signifiers and the collapse of the signifieds. 

“If I had all faith, but have no love, I am nothing. Love is patient and kind, it doesn’t envy or boast, it’s not arrogant or rude… it rejoices with the truth.”

The acknowledgement of the ‘fact’ that we forgot how to love adds a new ontological dimension to Metahaven’s visual research, a more hopeful one than most current sci-fi dystopian narratives, as the present reality we live in, not the imaginary future, is already dystopian.  In other words, the imaginary of the social and technological can be equally democratising and constraining, but if approached responsibly, it will rather be the former.

By analogy to Alain Badiou’s Eloge de l’amour (2009), this new neither/nor space, which is not free of imperfections, but is free of estranging social confines and prohibitions, can work as an “angel of love”, a new imaginary space for a human encounter that may never occur, but could create a new unrestrained space of love and empathy.

Such an ending, in spite of the detached, almost robotic youthful voice-over, may offer a much needed disalienating, humanistic message, simultaneously subversive and self-authenticating, as the technological and hyper-rational advancements don’t necessarily imply human progress - to paraphrase Hemingway’s words: the invention of an airplane doesn’t mean that we move faster than a horse. An alternative to this ending is the return to pre-social, pre-linguistic, pre-discursive and – pre-technological, as the final images show warehouses in ruins, desolate lands and several masked women, wearing scarves to hide faces (with emojis, stickers & comic strip captions, designed by Metahaven), whispering inarticulately with their black shadows and holding big stones instead of smartphones.

Finally, in a call to challenge the structure of subjectivity, socio-political relations and the social imaginary that supports it, Possessed transforms the current debate of the binary opposition truth/facts and lies into questions of interpretation and epistemology, contextualising them, further, to not only how something is interpreted but who it is interpreted by (are we ‘preaching’ only to the converted?), who are the agents of knowledge and how newly gained knowledge serves to justify the existing beliefs of the masses. In other words, whose timeline is it? 

This is, of course, only one of possible interpretations of the multilayered filmic reality.•

Maja Bogojević (PhD) is a freelance film theorist/critic, founder and editor-in-chief of the first Montenegrin film magazine, Camera Lucida, founder and President of the Fipresci section of Montenegro, and a member of FEDEORA and UPF. She has been, until recently,_ _film theory professor and Dean of Faculty of Visual Arts at Mediteran University Podgorica, and, previously, the Dean of Faculty of Arts at the University of Donja Gorica.