Citizen Culture Issue #8

issue8mutawa 3/13/06 2:58 PM Page 2

issue #8

TOCTIDBITSOf Paddies & JihadisTimothy Lavin

An Open Letter to the President of the Islamic Republic of IranMichael Serazio

The Israeli-Palestinian Struggle: Can South Korea Relate?Marianna Staroselsky

ON THE FENCEMy Dinner with Irving: A Profile of Holocaust DenialAvi Dov Klein

A Sunny Day in DachauDavid Winstanley

THE F -WORDThe Religion of Fashion John Iton & Joey Lynn Acosta

REVERIEDream a Little Dream of ChinatownJill Dudones

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REVERIEDream a Little Dream of ChinatownJill Dudones

F ICT IONMutawwa (Part One)Pamela K. Taylor

PSYCHOLOGYDo Ethnic, Religious, and CulturalBackgrounds Impact Hostage Negotiations?Jack J. Cambria

LOCAL FLAVOR:SxSWTop of the HeapJack De Voss

LOCAL FLAVOR:6*4*6AustinTheo Mazumdar

The CCM INTERVIEWLaura Linney: Hollywood’s Go-To GirlDennis Brabham

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MAGAZINESThe View from Below: Esquire Covers the World Trade Center RebuildingJonathon Scott Feit

POLIT ICSPropaganda: Posters, Cartoons, and PoliticsDennis Brabham

PORTFOLIOWhere there Once was a Curtain...Inside Post-Soviet MoldovaIgor Finkel

REL IGIONUpanayanam:Spinning the Sacred ThreadRamesh Avadhani

L INES AND L ISTSDouble BillGarin Pirnia

Much More than LuckJeff Sneider

Counterculture, Anyone?Amy O’Loughlin

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LIEUTENANT JACK CAMBRIA is a 24 year police

veteran who is currently assigned as the Commanding

Officer of the New York Police Department's Hostage

Negotiation Team. He spent 16 years with the

Emergency Services Unit, to which he was reassigned

following the World Trade Center attacks to aid in the

rescue and recovery efforts. He will be completing a

Masters degree in criminal justice from the John Jay

College of Criminal Justice in the Fall of 2006.

AVI KLEIN is a writing fellow at Moment Magazine in

Washington, DC. His work has appeared in the

Washington Monthly, the Washington City Paper, the Skeptical

Inquirer and the American Spectator.

IGOR FINKEL is Vice President for Circulation and

Deputy Publisher of Citizen Culture. After escaping

Soviet Moldova by car and living for nearly a year with

his parents and brother as refugees in Austria and Italy,

Igor and his family immigrated to the Philadelphia as a

refugee from Soviet Union in 1989. In March 2005, he

was invited back to his birthplace, the Transdniestrian

Moldavian Republic, and became the first Western

journalist in 15 years to be granted permission to

research government archives located in Tiraspol.

There he conducted exclusive interviews with President

Igor Smirnov and other political leaders.

CONTRIBUTORS

96


@An advance release of one of this issue’s “On the Fence” features—”My Dinner with Irving”

by Avi Dov Klein—drew some heavy criticism and frank excoriation from some powerful

figures of the American religious community. As always, we welcome your feedback as well.

Send an email to [email protected].

le t ter s citizenculture.com

Irving loves to inflate numbers of

dollars spent to defeat him, the size of the

judgment against him, and of Germans

killed in Allied bombing raids. He loves to

diminish the numbers of Jewish dead....

See following examples of blufferei

from the article:

There was no 8 million dollar

judgment against him. Cost was about 3

million and he never paid much. I never

pursued him for my costs. Decided that

that would be about money and the trial

was about a principle.

We spent 3 million not 10

[sometimes Irving says 6 million dollars...

you get the analogy]

Irving did not address "a" Judge as

mein Fuhrer. He addressed the judge in

my trial as mein fuhrer.

My personal feelings towards the

man? Nada. Don't waste my time having

any. [IN all due seriousness]. He seems to

me to be a man filled with hubris, with a

My reaction? He is a loathsome human

being spouting evil nonsense who does not

deserve a profile of his activities. What he

deserves is oblivion, and on the way there,

obloquy.

David WolpeRabbi

Sinai Temple, Los Angeles, CAvia email

giant ego [that's a redundancy] who hates

Jews and minorities, who longs for a WASP

UK, who lies about history with ease [until

he is caught]. I find what he does

reprehensible. I think he is pathetic [the

last chapter of my book is called The Court

Jester]. He was left looking silly by the end

of the trial.

Deborah E. Lipstadt, Ph.D.Dorot Professor of Modern Jewish

and Holocaust StudiesEmory University, Atlanta, GA

via email


EEditors, writers, and entrepreneurs have

our “rabbis” to inspire us, as American Book

Award-winner and former Time critic Michael

Walsh, one of my mentors (the luckiest among

us have several), calls our personal and

professional predecessors. Still, we’re far from

omniscient and often unsure, as this eighth

issue—themed Faith & Ethnicity—proved. Our

choice of cover stories (with its accompanying

graphics and pull quotes) petrified me.

I was surprised, then flattered, to find

my own confidence bolstered from the highest

echelons of the magazine industry. During our

interview (which begins on page 64), David

Granger, Editor-in-Chief of Esquire, the world’s

most steadfast men’s literary-and-lifestyle

magazine, said that “usefulness and humor…

earn the right to tell your big stories.”

But a question pierces the heart of that

happy theory: when have you earned that

right? When is it more than hubris? It took

a compelling body of work before Steven

Spielberg earned the right to produce

Schindler’s List; likewise Yaacov Agam, the

Israeli kinetic sculptor who created the New

Orleans Holocaust Memorial.

We had published only seven issues of

Citizen Culture before the Holocaust landed in

my lap, and I was faced with the dire

responsibility of representing one of recorded

history’s most heinous crimes. The mantle

was a weighty but essential one, because we

are the country’s first magazine for Young

Professionals, and we Young Professionals

have something to shout at the rooftops:

We shall NEVER forget.

Not Congo.

Not Darfur.

Not Germany, nor Poland, nor

Romania, nor Austria, nor Hungary.

Not Israel, or Palestine.

Not Kashmir.

Not Kent State.

Not Kosovo.

Not Kurdistan.

Not New York City.

Not Rwanda.

Not Somalia.

Not the Soviet Union (see page 74)

Not Tienanmen Square.

Not Vietnam.

6Citizen Culture

6Citizen Culture

letter from the E-in-C


* * ** * *Recently, a reporter asked me what I

think of the accusation that my generation

believes itself “entitled,” in need of dues-

paying. I took offense to the comment, which

shows an absolute lack of understanding that

my colleagues and I may be young, but we

have inherited our parents’ scars and, indeed,

surpassed their drive. We have learned, and

we have regretted.

We have applauded a Pope who

apologized, and demanded integrity from our

leaders. Our comics—the Jon Stewarts and Bill

Mahers*—aren’t masters of schtick, but rather,

purveyours of stark political commentary

whose mockery expresses Young Professionals’

exasperation with a decrepit status quo. We

rocked the vote, and will rise again, and again,

with intellectually informed perspectives.

Young Professionals are neither stupid

nor passive—we want both sides now, and are

ever seeking Truth. (It is no coincidence that

the extended anti-smoking ad campaign called

“Truth” has been one of the most successful in

recent years.) Democrats and Republicans and

Libertarians and Greens: the power of the

‘blog is the power to speak and be heard. We

believe in the sanctity of the First Amendment:

“no law respecting an establishment of religion, or

prohibiting the free exercise therefore…or abridging the

freedom of speech, or of the press…or the right of the

people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the

government for a redress of grievances.”

We knew that if we were to present a

subject so emotional and significant as the

Holocaust, we would be hypocritical to deny

that there are those who protest its significance,

or indeed, that it happened at all. Which is

not to say I agree. Still, it is the right of the

reader alone to conclude the truth, and Citizen

Culture is—as we’ve said often before—merely

your mouthpiece. Our sole hope can be to

maintain the integrity of our journalistic

backbone, and thus to earn the right to carry

the burden of memorials like the one that

begins on page 25.

Admiringly yours,

Jonathon Scott Feit

Chief Editor & Publisher,

On behalf of Citizen Culture Magazine

* For Bill Maher’s perspectives, see

“Muckraking for Dummies” in issue #5 of

Citizen Culture Magazine at www.citizenculture.com.

Citizen Culture Magazine (ISSN 1553-2747) is dedicated topublishing the highest quality works by new and talentedContributors, fostering the free flow of ideas, no matter howcontroversial.

The opinions herein expressed are exclusively those of theatuhors, and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the FeitFamily Ventures Corporation, Citizen Culture Magazine, itseditors, publishers, advertisers, affiliates, agents, suppliers, orother contributors.

Neither the Feit Family Ventures Corproation nor CitizenCulture Magazine assumes any responsibility for unsolicitedmaterial of any type. All submitted materials will be treated asassigned and available for publication. Submission implies theavailability of appropriate copyrights. Material will be subjectto our unrestricted right to edit for content, length, clarity, etc.

Design & content © 2005-2006 by the Feit FamilyVentures Corporation, except as otherwise credited.No portion of this magazine may be reproducedwithout expressed permission from the Publisher.


share nearly nothing in common.

That is, of course, a very big aside.

But the differences between the

two groups illustrate both the

promise and the peril of politically

engaged terror.

Before entering politics, the

IRA entered a protracted peace

process. The precondition of this

process was a long-term ceasefire

with a planned outcome—agreed

upon by all sides—of total

decommissioning of illegal arms.

Throughout its history, the IRA

was dedicated to unifying one

nation (a 32-county Ireland) and

freeing themselves of another (the

United Kingdom). However, the

majority of people in Northern

Ireland were not so dedicated,

including nearly all those in power.

Thus the bombings. But

throughout its campaign, the

IRA's violence, however

reprehensible, was intertwined

with a legitimate movement for

Catholic civil rights and a political

party, Sinn Féin, which adhered to

a consistent and achievable

platform. Theirs was the violence

of political agitation. Once they

verifiably denounced that violence,

they gained seats in a devolved

8Citizen Culture

8Citizen Culture

WASHINGTON—As the Feast of

St. Patrick nears, it's high time for

American politicians to toast old

Erin with pints of black beer and

pabulum about their “dedication

to peace” across the Atlantic. Such

merriment, especially the liquid

version, tends to induce outsized

optimism among Washington

types, particularly those named

Kennedy. As Northern Ireland

moves ever closer to true peace

and legitimate democracy, the

temptation will no doubt exist to

equate the now-disarmed and

democratically-engaged IRA with

the very-much-not-disarmed and

recently empowered Hamas.

Aside from their violent

histories, Hamas and the IRA

By Timothy Lavin

TIDBITS

Of Paddies and JihadisWhy Hamas is not the IRA—and what

it means for us.


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comment

local parliament—a place where

they could peacefully address their

many legitimate grievances—still

under the auspices of the British

Crown. They were not,

significantly, given the keys to that

particular kingdom.

Hamas, on the other hand, for

all its laudable social programs, is

still a suicidal, radically anti-

Semitic band of reprobates that

earlier this year met with the

approval of a Palestinian

constituency sick and desperate

after years of official corruption

and radical inefficiency—and

found itself at the helm. This, after

the group has utterly squandered

every opportunity for peace so far

presented. Such is life in a

democracy.

Perhaps a grimmer difference

between the two is leadership. Bill

Clinton's most salient insight about

the Northern Ireland conflict was

that Gerry Adams, the leader of

Sinn Féin, was a man of reason, a

man he could deal with. He gave

Adams a visa and made the

United States a welcome ground

to all parties, far away from the

guns and the balaclavas and the

civic symbols of British

occupation. Is there an equivalent

man of reason in Hamas?

Someone open to dialogue and

negotiation? If there is, he has yet

to show himself. (Or herself, you

ask? Don't kid yourself.)

Even so, a Hamas engaged in

democratic politics is preferable to

a Hamas answerable only to itself.

And the United States has rightly

demanded that it renounce

terrorism and recognize the Israeli

state. Further penalties should

await Hamas's reaction to those

modest demands; rather than

alienating the group at the height

of its power, Condoleezza Rice

would be wise, for the moment, to

keep her friends close and her

enemies closer.

It's pleasant to think that

Hamas, saddled with bureaucratic

concerns about pensions and

education and commerce and all

the rest, would find itself too

accountable to its constituents to

risk much-needed foreign

assistance ($1 billion a year) and

Israeli tax revenue ($55 million a

month) by resorting again to

violence. Followers of the IRA's

political ascent may be reminded

of Martin McGuinness—Sinn


Dear Mr. Ahmadinejad:

I happened to notice in the

newspaper recently that you called

for a ban on Western music. An

excellent idea! Nothing announces

to the world, and your people,

confidence in the marketplace of

ideas quite like a swift (and

thorough!) act of censorship. I

myself have called for a ban from

time to time (unregulated “soft

money” campaign contributions,

pickles on hamburgers, the

continued existence of Maroon 5

on God's green earth), but I lack

the political or religious standing

to make it stick.

However, you may not fully

understand the depth of depravity

and decadence that has taken root

in Western pop culture. Might I

10Citizen Culture

TIDBITS

An Open Letter to the President ofthe Islamic Republicof Iran

Any time’s a great time for the End Times.

Féin's number two and the

quintessential IRA “hard man”—

hunkered over his desk as

education minister, working

earnestly on reforming the

Northern Irish middle school

system.

But will Hamas be moderated

by the demands of running a

state, or intoxicated by its power?

Will it use its newfound legitimacy

to build a great society for its

people, or to destroy that of its

neighbors? Don't trust this to work

out well, for all the reasons the

IRA's political conversion did.

Hamas—a wing of the Muslim

Brotherhood—has never fought

for a Palestinian state. It has

fought to destroy the Jewish one.

Theirs is not a struggle to loose

the chains of a colonial occupier;

it's a jihad to create a worldwide

caliphate. And in that struggle,

lest we forget, infidel civilians will

always make prime targets. Theirs

is not the violence of political

agitation; it's the violence of

nihilism.

By Michael Serazio

TIDBITS


proffer a few specifications and/or

additions?

Prince of Persia: The Two

Thrones for the Xbox. Mere

mention of “prince” and

“thrones” seems a touch

antithetical and, shall we say,

outmoded for a progressive, wholly

democratic nation, which Iran

most certainly is.

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely HeartsClub Band. Harmless on the

surface, Mahmoud. But if played

backwards, it spells out the exact

GPS coordinates of your

underground nuclear weapons

cache. Granted, you have to be

doing a lot of LSD and listening

to exiles in the National Council of

Resistance of Iran at the same

time.

Dallas: The Complete Firstand Second Seasons. Perhaps

the most egregious example of a

Jewish clan lusty for oil and power.

Admittedly, a few tweaks to the

script here and there over the

years slightly obfuscated the

EXECUTIVEEXECUTIVE T ET EAMAMJonathon Scott Feit Chief Editor & PublisherRobert Favuzza Chief Marketing OfficerIgor Finkel Vice President for Circulation and

Deputy PublisherJohn Iton Vice President for Events and

Senior Editor for Fashion & Photo

CCONTENTONTENT DEVELDEVELOPMENTOPMENT T ET EAMAMMichael Pullmann Managing EditorKelly Brumleve Executive EditorSara Jones Executive Director of Art & Layout Tim Lavin Senior Editor for Politics B. Theo Mazumdar Senior Editor for ReviewsKristen Consilio Senior Editor for FeaturesSeth Reiss Associate Editor for HumorSanford Kunkel Associate Editor & Director, 6*4*6Joey Lynn Acosta Associate Beauty DirectorOliver Utshudi Associate Fashion EditorDamien Power Editor-at-Large

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Angela Burno, Diana Chang, Laura Brown

Submissions [email protected] Sales [email protected] to the Editor [email protected]

Subscribe onlSubscribe online @ wwwine @ www.cit.citizizenculencultturure.ce.comom


12Citizen Culture

TIDBITS

Ewing's family Hebraic roots. In

the pilot, for example, Larry

Hagman's character was originally

called Schmoikel Rabinowitz.

In all seriousness, you have

been on fire this year, my man.

The zingers do not stop. There

was that whole Holocaust

hullabaloo, which required us to

parse your vexing logic: If 6

million Jews weren't killed by the

Nazis, as you said, why would the

establishment of Israel be a

“continuation of genocide” by the

Europeans, as you also said? You

can't have it both ways. Or can

you, you crafty bastard!

Then you shared sentiments

with Pat Robertson on the ailing

Ariel Sharon—always good

company to be in when it comes

to level-headedness. However,

given that you're also pals with

Hugo Chavez—who supports your

nuclear aims but was recently in

Robertson's rhetorical crosshairs -

that could get a little awkward if

you all hang out together. (Why do

I also see George Steinbrenner at

that party?)

The question, of course, is

whether this alleged pro-Western

strain among many of your people

is all hype and if, by opting for

extremism, we'll see a

counterrevolution sparked by those

moderates. That's the scenario that

makes us gun-shy Great Satanists

all warm and fuzzy at night: a

regime change without American

hands getting obliquely dirty. And

given your anemic economy and

listless employment levels, it's a

scenario that could play out. After

all, blaming the West and

blacklisting the Black Eyed Peas is

a familiar strategy for the

embattled demagogue whose

domestic distress is not so easily

addressed. In football terms, it's a

reverse misdirection—from a

political playbook that Chavez

himself knows well. But at the end

of the day, censoring culture

doesn't create jobs. It only further

inflames the unemployed who can

no longer get Springer at 10 A.M.

What trips us out, though, like

I said, is this apocalyptic hot streak

of yours. If we understand


comment

CCm13

JERUSALEM DOES NOT LACK for

diversity. The streets are filled with

Semites of every imaginable color,

culture and creed, and the city is

host to a constant flow of tourists

and new immigrants. Yet

somehow, the evening of Monday,

August 8th brought an unlikely

sight to Hillel Street, as the

pedestrians found themselves

drawn to the vibrant extravaganza

of the Korean festival.

In traditional Korean

costumes, a mock wedding parade

marched down the street, joyously

banging on ceremonial drums.

The exotic colors and attire alone

were enough to cause passersby to

stop and stare in awe. The face

paint was a touching tribute to the

festival's message. With a Korean

flag painted on one cheek and an

Israeli flag painted on the other,

the Korean performers' smiling

correctly your fervor for the

apparently imminent Mahdi-the

12th Imam who will rule at the

end times-then, well, you'd

probably fit in just fine with

millions of Left Behind readers

who are in similar rapture in the

United States.

Except for the fact that those

folks haven't denied the Holocaust,

don't usually call for the state of

Israel to be “wiped off the map,”

and didn't recently break the seals

on uranium enrichment facilities,

putting themselves perilously close

to concocting nuclear weaponry.

Since Israel's already got theirs,

that puts us back in a world gone

MAD, well after the Cold War

warmed up. Well, Mahmoud, if

only banning music was that

harmless.

The Israeli-PalestinianStruggle: Can SouthKorea Relate?

By Marianna Staroselsky


14Citizen Culture

TIDBITS

faces preached peace to the

Jerusalem public.

“I would like more people like

them to exist in the world, who

wish peace for Israel,” said Oleg

Boyarsky, a young Russian Israeli

proudly displaying a Korean flag

on his left cheek. Oleg was so

pleased with the event that he

returned the next day. “They

came to this country on their own

money, gave us tea, danced for us.

It's a heartfelt gesture. You can tell

that they're doing this from their

soul, that they're here because they

want to be.”

One especially touching

gesture came from the brightly-

clad of Sung-Sook Kim, a twenty-

six year-old student of Second

Temple Literature at Hebrew

University, and the talented

A Korean dance festival


comment

CCm15

CCm15

presenter of the Festival. Kim gave

a moving speech in Hebrew to the

Israeli audience expressing her

wishes for a peaceful, happy

Jerusalem. The Israeli public was

clearly touched, especially when

Kim ended her speech by singing

Shalom Aleinu, the famous

Hebrew prayer song meaning,

“Peace will come upon us.”

Kim was born in Seoul, South

Korea, as were most of the 2,700

Korean performers and

participants. She came to Israel in

1999, and her family followed 3

years later. “I had wanted to do

something completely different

than what my friends were doing.

After high school most people go

to university, they study, they look

for work, etc. Israel is connected to

my faith. I was raised in a

believing Christian family.” Yet

despite being the birthplace of

Christianity, the Holy Land is as

distant from the minds of many

Koreans as from their bodies.

“Many Koreans are Christian,

together with Catholics about

forty-five percent. In recent history

there are many believers, but we

don't know about Israel as it is

spoken about in the Bible.”

Not only do these Korean

Christians wish to find a

connection to Israel, but they seek

recognition from Israelis as well.

“And it's also up to you, Israel, to

recognize us. We're allowing you to

know us, through this kind of

event. We think we are in a

comparable situation. There are

always conflicts. We [North and

South Korea] are in essence one

nation, but the Palestinians and

Israelis are separate.” The

difference, Kim declares, is that

the Korean problem is political,

whereas the Israeli one is religious.

And yet, for the Koreans, both

Palestine and Israel hold Christian

significance.

On August 10th, the Koreans

marched to Palestinian Bethlehem

carrying a banner that read, “We

love Palestine.” The Protestant

Koreans, assuming ethnic

immunity to the racial issues

involved in performing for both

Israeli Jews and Palestinian Arabs,

were able to pay homage to two of

the most significant cities in

Christendom.

And was the message of peace

successful? Did the Koreans

achieve their goal? “They were


16Citizen Culture

TIDBITS

smiling … I don't know how much

they received and how much they

understood,” says Kim. She

describes the Palestinian audience

as cheerful but less connected to

the performers. None of the

performers, including Kim, spoke

Arabic; instead the

commencement speech was

delivered in English. “The event at

Hillel Street was more connected

to people personally.” Kim

describes the Bethlehem festival as

lacking the friendly, chatter-filled

atmosphere of the Hillel Street

event, which included children's

games, Korean language and Tae

Kwon Do lessons, and tea stands

full of free samplers.

But Kim remains determined

to continue the events. “It

strengthens their faith,” she

exlplains. Even if the Israeli-

Palestinian conflict has no visible

end in sight, the Koreans will still

proclaim their message to all who

would hear it. The fact that the

lands of milk and honey hold so

much value for a third party, and

one that proclaims no wish to

stamp its name on the earth, but

only to pay homage to its sacred

soil, is an eye-opener. Could

Christians act as a calming force

here? Doubtful, but the attempt is

touching and even the dimmest

hope counts for something.

Author's Postscript: In light of

recent developments in the Israeli and

Palestinian world, the inspired hope

which permeates my writing seems very

much out of place. This article was

written in late August of 2005, and the

Korean Festival even at the time appeared

unbelievably optimistic. But though the

current Israeli sentiment carries little

optimism, I believe that it is even more

important now to keep events such as this

one in mind. Israel and Palestine should

remember that there is a common ground

between them—even when it's perceived

through the lens of something as unlikely

as Christianity—-and that it is worth

preserving.



My Dinner wit


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THE BASEMENT BANQUET ROOM AT THE

Rhodeside Grill in Courthouse, Virginia is

usually reserved for youth soccer award

ceremonies and the overflow from Super Bowl

Sunday. Widescreen televisions and NCAA

tournament brackets loom from walls sticky

withfrom beer and promotional stickers. A

well-stocked bar curves away from the dance

floor to make room for a bay of dinner tables

in front of the stage. It is the last place one

would expect to find David Irving, the world’s

most infamous Holocaust denier, and eighty-

four of his most devoted followers.

It is not easy to attend an Irving event.

Promotion for his Real History book tour is

mostly handled through local radical right-wing

groups like the Council of Conservative

Citizens and the American Immigration

Control Council. Journalists are not usually

A Profile of Holocaust Denial

By Avi Dov Klein

th Irving


20Citizen Culture

allowed, and Jews are at a further

disadvantage. “I am a believer in the First

Amendment,” he wrote, “but many Jews are

not.” He was south of the Mason-Dixon line

when he opened my email. When I emailed

him to ask for an invitation, he replied, “You

are pushing your luck, “ he replied, “but if you

can give us guarantees we will be happy to see

you at the dinner.” “I am a believer in the First

Amendment,” he wrote, “but many Jews are

not.”

Irving’s table was set in a cramped space

near the bathroom, his back to the stage and

his left profile to the approaching guests. A

massive figure with the an affected martial air

befitting a claimed descendant of Scottish hero

Robert the Bruce, he more resembled a

struggling conventioneer as he habitually

rearranged and straightened his display of

books, posters, and Great Composers of the

Third Reich DVDs. Since the $8 million

judgment against him in his ill-advised libel

suit against Deborah Lipstadt, author of

Denying the Holocaust, the book signings are

his primary source of income. His, he says, is

“a gypsy-like existence.”

Irving’s eighty-four guests milled about

slowly. Many carried copies of the tightly

circulated David Irving’s Action Report, a

periodic newsletter that recounts his day-to-day

activities and racial grievances, which are often

one and the samechronicles his fight for what

he calls “Real History.” (“January 12, 2004:

Rotten night: the room faces into a major

highway, is next to a noisy rattling lift; and

drunken happy-go-lucky Blacks talk outside

until late.”) Aside from one particularly voluble

As a child I was attracted to Hitler because Iworshipped generals and armies of allnations equally.


CCm21

o n t h e f e n c e

young man sitting at the American

Immigration Control Council table who spoke

with the air of a Congressional staffer, few

were younger than fifty, and even fewer were

women. Most were grandfatherly war buffs, the

sort found in most families. More more Nazi-

philic than anti-Semitic, ; one imagines them

crying during the opening scene of Saving

Private Ryan, but for the wrong reasons.

Others conducted a seemingly illicit side

trade. At the bar a young man with an

unimpressive goatee showed off a cheap

folding pocketknife decorated with a swastika

and framed with the words “Blot” and “Ehre”

— blood and honor — in classic Nazi gothic

script. This was his Hitler Youth model, he

said, but others, including the “Death’s Head”

model, were available on his website,

www.ssregalia.com. When aAsked his business

by a former Pat Buchanan senior staffer whose

short build and mustache recalled Bob Barr to

no small degree, the unnamed salesman

described himself as “an SS importer.”

“Don’t worry,” replied the former staffer,

without missing a beat. “You’re among friends

here.” [Editor’s note: Mr. Irving, in

correspondence with CCM, has denied

knowledge of this, and stated that his letters of

invitation forbid “such relics and insignia.”

Dinner was served late, and quickly. Pork

was the overwhelming favoriteentree of choice.

Smokers congregated in the back in deference

to Irving’s allergies. The rest sat at covered

tables making small talk while a. The multi-

ethnic staff cleared the plates, seemingly

oblivious to the meeting’s purpose.

Irving took the stage to enthusiastic

applause. His gait is plodding, like an

inquisitive rhinoceros’s. When he speaks, he

plants his feet a foot and half back from the

microphone, his defined chin jutting forward,

his hands knotted at his waist to control any

impulse to flail or claw the air.

“They spent ten million dollars trying to

gag me, and failed,” opened Irving to loud

applause. With the lawsuit over — the one he

had started, remember —-”I can finally speak

my mind.” Wearily, he began to recite his

greatest hits. Some of his most infamous

statements have taken on a life of their own,

particularly in cyberspace. For many of the

guests who had seen him quoted repeatedly in

chat rooms and hate websites saying, “More

women died at Chappaquiddick than in the

gas chambers at Auschwitz that they show the

tourists,” the event was an opportunity akin to

seeing Lynrd Skynrd play Freebird live.

If the audience twittered when Irving

repeated his Ted Kennedy reference, and

fluttered when he ad-libbed a Monica

Lewinsky related jibe, they positively swooned

when he began to recite a lullaby rhyme he

once wrote for his four year-old daughter

Jessica. Irving built up slowly to the climax.


22Citizen Culture

Nervous giggles and glances shot about the

room as it became clear he was going to revisit

one of the most crucial events in his lawsuit

against Lipstadt. According to diaries read out

in court, whenever Irving would roll his

daughter past “mixed breed” children, he sang

a special song, which he then now recited in a

singsong voice for the audience as well:

I am a Baby Aryan

Not Jewish or Sectarian

Here he paused for effect and stared the

audience in the eye.

I have no plans to marry

An Ape or Rastafarian

Unfortunately he swallowed the punch

line, either from exhaustion or giddiness, and it

went unheard by everyone who hadn’t

anticipated it. For the benefit of those who

hadn’t caught it, he repeated it.

And the room burst into uproarious

laughter.

When I was about seven, years old my

parents bought me a book of paintings of

important historical figures. My favorite

showed a mustachioed man in a camel camel-

colored jacket, his black hair slicing

deliberately across his forehead. Facing the

reader, he salutes saluted hundreds of

uniformed men, who reciprocated a thousand-

fold. It was so inspiring that I immediately

resolved to dress up as this great hero and


CCm23

o n t h e f e n c e

parade around the neighborhood. I certainly

didn’t anticipate the neighbor’s’ abject horror

when I proudly explained my new hairdo as a

Hitler costume, and that yes, it was my poor

suffering mother who had provided the

pomade.

Something about being a Nazi, or, rather,

playing at being a Nazi, excites Holocaust

deniers. As a child I was attracted to Hitler

because I worshipped generals and armies of

all nations equally. It wasn’t bad taste; I simply

didn’t know any better. But David Irving and

his readers are old enough to know better and

too old to be playing dress dress-up. Like all of

us, they wish the Holocaust never happened,

but they also agree with Ernst Zundel, another

infamous Holocaust denier and Irving ally, that

the Holocaust “bar[s] so many thinkers from

re-looking at the options that National

Socialism German style offers,” which to their

minds would not abide immigration, estate

taxes or the Warren Court. When they deny

the Holocaust, they also manufacture the

confined intellectual condition in which they

can study or enjoy Nazi Germany with the

same respectably wistful curiosity as an

Anglophile might Victorian England.

Though the politics of National Socialism

are a major attraction, Irving’s meetings also

reinforce a feeling of belonging and identity.

This is not to say his readers are so low-class

they would actually wear a Nazi uniform in

public. (It would be ad hominem and unfair to

compare them in any way to the British royal

family.) But revisionist movements invariably

foster a group identity in which the sheer

notoriety of the cause becomes its dominant

raison d’etre. As the line between earnest

inquiry and personal development becomes

confused, readers sometimes over-identify with

the subject matter and lose themselves,

physically and intellectually, in the text.

Projection, such as when the overeager “UFO-

ologist” begins to see flying saucers himself, is a

common enough symptom.

Irving once addressed a judge as “mein

Füuhrer” and didn’t even notice the mistake.

But what should we make of the man I met at

the bar who tried to sell me a replica Hitler

Youth pocketknife and laughingly, but

nervously, described himself as “an SS

importer?” Is he a tasteless boob or pathetic

Scaramouche? What about the former senior

staffer for Pat Buchanan who told the knife

salesman, “Don’t worry, you’re among friends

here”? And what would a one do with a Hitler

Youth replica knife, anyways? Too flimsy for

personal defense, too offensive for public

display, one would have to unsheathe it

privately, like a forbidden pornographic

treasuretreasured pornographic film. A similar

ritual obtainspertains, I imagine, for to the


24Citizen Culture

poster of Hitler Irving offereds free with each

purchase. Irving’s exaggerated cloak-and-

dagger with me before the event only served to

emphasize how important conspiracy, or the

illusion of it, was to these otherwise ordinary

men.

A week after the Irving event I received an

unusual email from a man in Sydney: “So far

despite millions (billions rather) of dollars

Zionist were unable to prove BEYOND ANY

DOUBT that “Holocaust” took place.” How, I

wondered, had this man found my email

address? Was there such a thing in this cruel

world as Holocaust denial spam? Thankfully,

no. In fact, Irving had posted on his website

my email address and photograph. The

caption, “Invited stranger Avi Dov Klein

seizes the opportunity to interrogate the

guests,” bordered on the hysterical. In the

meantime Irving refused to answer questions

about his finances or political beliefs: “I am

not paranoid — but I do not believe in

assisting those whose intention is to smear

me!”

Despite all the Sturm und Drang, Irving

is no longer much of a threat. In truth, he

isn’t much of anything anymore. Only one

percent of Americans believe it is possible that

the Holocaust didn’t happen, which very

roughly means that there are seventy-six

thousand Holocaust deniers in the Washington

Metro area, according to a 1994 Roper poll.

(This 1994 Roper poll corrected an earlier,

heavily publicized but tragically flawed, poll

that found a twenty-two percent denial rate.)

And the event I attended was one of his larger,

and considering his notoriety and the Virginia

location, it was not an impressive turnout.

Most encouraging of all are the demographics.

Considering the advanced age of most of

Irving’s readers, Holocaust denial in the

United States might very well die out soon,

literally.

Judaism has a hell, doesn’t it?

Something aboutbeing a Nazi, orrather, playing atbeing a Nazi,excites Holocaustdeniers.


CCm25

o n t h e f e n c e

A WARM SUN SMILES DOWN ON DACHAU. Puffy,

gentle clouds hang in the air as if painted.

Birds chirp and sing to each other from poplar

trees. Green and lush, tall and strong, these

trees frame the enclosing wire fences.

Gravel crunches and pops beneath my

boots. I walk, finding myself with head down,

bag heavy on shoulder, literally (realizing the

cliché) lost in thought.

The foundations of the long-destroyed

dormitory buildings line the path like

Text and Photographs By David Winstanley

A SUNNY DAY

INDACHAU


26Citizen Culture

tombstones in a pebbled cemetery. The sun's

gentle song upon the earth rises an octave or

two, the temperature soaring as sunlight eases

through the scattered, motionless sky. The

chatter of birds is lost in the oncoming

murmur of voices. This sub-audible rumble

grows, peaking to a high-pitched tussle then

spreading out into the flat verbal clatter of the

school groups. Platoons of teenagers wander

freely, wearing garish colored backpacks and

brightly hued shirts. I cannot help but intercept

their communications.

A pretty girl shrieks and holds out the front

of her white sweatshirt. She pulls it far away

from her body. “A bird pooped on me,” she

whines, and her friend takes a picture. She

zooms in on the green brown stains on her

friend's shirt and hands. Laughing, she looks at

her digital camera's readout screen and they

giggle. The pooped-on girl continues,

“Eeeeeww! Gross! It smells so bad!” and I walk

away.

I come to the gas chamber and the

crematorium. I enter the building aware that

this was a place of disposal and murder. But

the gas chamber here was not the murder

factory that Auschwitz was. It never had the

capacity or ability to handle demand on that

scale.

I stand in the Shower Room and look

through the door opposite. I see a

lone girl, maybe seventeen years

old, tall with long, fine legs in

tight blue jeans. Her long blonde

hair is wavy. She is quite lovely

and probably popular. She sucks

on the straw of a jumbo-sized

box of juice. It could be her

boyfriend's nipple by the look in

her eye. Her thoughts appear to

be elsewhere. I move on.

Children pause in the

Incinerator Room. Two boys talk

together, giggling and smiling at a

private joke. They could be

standing in their school cafeteria.

I wander away, until my feet feel

HOW COULD THEYLIVE KNOWING THECAPABILITIES OF SUCH ACIVILIZATION?


CCm27

the crunch of the gravel. I look at the fences,

the ditch, the canal, and the guard tower.

Behind me are the churches and

memorials built in the 1960s. Catholic,

Protestant, Jewish, Russian Orthodox. I look

quickly at their Modernist shapes and then

walk again down the center aisle of the

barracks' foundations. An aisle in the church of

dead things. I walk towards the main camp

building, with its cinema and exhibitions, and

gift shop. An altar at the end of the aisle.

I walk to the waiting area by the cinema

entrance door. Girls are trying to hoist

themselves up onto the wall. They laugh as

they flash their bellies; shirts and jeans separate

as they stretch their torsos. A girl flicks her eyes

to see if a boy has noticed.

I see two German girls on a step. They are

sharing a green iPod, an earpiece each, passing

time as if on a playground at lunchtime.

I walk past an American man in his late

forties. He is short, with a white moustache,

o n t h e f e n c e


28Citizen Culture

and he says, “We scored the touchdown in the

last forty seconds of the game, so we won.” A

lady asks him, “Who was it that you played?”

and he replies, San Diego, Santa Fe, Sacramento,

Seattle. I tune out his response. I cannot hear it

and I don't want to know.

Chubby boys in shorts amble past,

shuffling in the gravel. A bell tolls in the

distance. Scattered pockets of applause strike

up, thanking a tour guide. Left and right, it

echoes sporadically.

Another group walks past, a man and two

women. All three are healthy, well-fed, safe and

free. One woman is saying, “…until you do

you have no way of knowing how strong you

are.” Whatever she is talking about, I am

happy she's realized it, but strength is relative.

Strength to come here? This is not needed. Strength

to see it is not needed.

Out of one of the few remaining

dormitory buildings come a group of

European teenagers. Some are quiet, some

chat as normal. A boy looks me in the eye, and

I fashion his expression into one that has a

faint sheen, a tint of guilt perhaps. But maybe

it is a sense of realization, an understanding of

history. Complicity is not to be sought or

apportioned. It can only be imagined.

The summer of 2005 was the sixtieth

anniversary of the Liberation of Dachau by


CCm29

Allied troops. They were young, not-so-

innocent farm boys and city kids in tanks and

trucks. Some were barely out of high school.

They found Dachau and the people in it.

The journalist Martha Gellhorn was here

too. She spoke with soldiers, prisoners and

victims of vile experimentation. She wrote of

her experiences so the world could learn about

the function and practices of Dachau. It was

the first time the modern world had seen such

specific barbarity. The Allied troops tried to

understand it, and deal with it. Unprepared,

they saw Dachau with their own eyes and the

force of that reality was a smack in the face on

behalf of the naive remainder of humanity.

The liberators who saw Dachau, those

who released the dying and the starving from

the squalid camp and dispelled the threat of

death, knew little of what to expect here. They

could not help but smell the decay and

degradation. Did Gellhorn anticipate such

sights and horrors? Did the soldiers feel inured

to such atrocities? Were these facts too awful to

comprehend? How could they live knowing the

capabilities of such a civilization?

Eventually, the facts and stories of the

concentration camps and the Holocaust, the

political persecutions and racial subjugation

would be taught in school history classes. Over

time, the true scale has been diluted and the

significance of a single place has eroded, but

Dachau existed, and it still epitomizes the

misery of a violent age.

My thoughts are interrupted when a

teenage girl suddenly asks of me, “Why did

they burn all the buildings here?” and I hear

myself reply, “Wouldn't you have done the

same?”

Later, I stand outside the documentary

cinema as people emerge. The light dims as

the sun slides demurely behind the clouds. It's

June, but it keeps turning cold. I pick up my

bag and camera and walk towards the main

gate.

As I pass through from the inside to the

outside I read the solid ironwork motto that

speaks the cruel irony of the camps. It reads

Arbeit macht frei. People flow through the gate,

some stopping to take a photo of the words.

They will take the sarcastic duplicity of the

phrase away with them.

The visitors exit the camp. They trudge

back along beige gravel paths to their cars and

coaches, to their lives far away from the past.

The camp at Dachau remains behind them,

grey and lifeless under the wide blue dome of

the sky. The clouds drift overhead once more,

and the birds still sing in the trees.

o n t h e f e n c e


Photos and Styling by John ItonMakeup by Joey Lynn Acosta


the word





In order from 2nd overleaf:

Dresses available atwww.eDressMe.com

Buddhist temple:Beaded Evening Gown by Faviana

Madonna and Bambino:Silk Scarf Print Dress by Nicole Miller.

Muslim prayers: Flamenco Halter Gown by Celo

Stigmata: Silk Evening Dress by BCBG Max Azria

Shiva: Beaded Evening Gown by Sue Wong

CCm35


36Citizen Culture

I

CHINATOWN IS MY HOME. ON SUNDAY, TUESDAY AND THURSDAY

NIGHTS, THE SMELL OF FORTUNE COOKIES BAKING FILLS THE AIR,LINGERING ON MY BALCONY AND PERMEATING THE SCREENS OF MY

WINDOWS. ON OFF DAYS, HAINANESE CHICKEN RICE FLOATS SOUTH

DOWN WENTWORTH FROM THE MALAYSIAN RESTAURANT. NEITHER OF

THESE SCENTS PROVES CHINESE IN ORIGIN, AND NOR IS THAT OF THE

FRESH BASIL AND OREGANO I’M CHOPPING TO MAKE CALABRESE

POTATO SALAD.

But I am less likely to pass as the typical

Chinatown inhabitant than the Malaysian chef

or the South Asian fortune cookie factory

worker.

Each morning on my way to work, I

pass the neighborhood elders doing Tai Chi

and then a navy van with two Polish men

selling black market cabbage, onions, garlic,

celery and a fruit of the day. They unload the

produce directly onto the sidewalk, celery

leaves touching the sidewalk cement, which

without a doubt has been violated by

neighborhood dogs, cigarette butts and rats.

They have no regard for the Chinese who buy

their produce. Prices are noted gruffly with the

universal hand-number system. Just before 10

a.m., the Polish men return to their Polish

neighborhood at Archer and Pulaski or any of

the many other Eastern European

neighborhoods on the north side of Chicago.

But I am already home, although many

Chinese neighbors eye me in confused or

sometimes resentful stares as I get out of my

car and walk up to my building. My

Volkswagen parked among a sea of Toyotas:

“She doesn’t belong here.”

But I do. Four blocks away from where I

live is the building in which my grandfather

and his family lived when they left Sicily

decades ago. Two great grandparents, their ten

children, and eventually their children’s

children in that old brick building. A little to

the north was where my grandmother and her

parents migrated to, but is now 90/94 highway.

Within Chinatown was, and in some places still

is, a thriving Sicilian and Calabrese (a southern

RE EER V

By Jill Dudones


CCm37

province in Italy) community, but most

Chicagoans have no idea it exists.

And why should they? Chicago is one of

the nation’s most segregated cities and

everyone knows that Italians live on Taylor

Street, North Harlem and Cicero, not

Chinatown. Ethnic groups have no reason or

desire to mix with each other, at least that is

the stereotype. And so Little Calabria remains

a secret.

People who visit Chicago rave about the

cuisine and its ethnic diversity. Ethiopian,

Cuban, Dutch, Filipino, Italian, Jewish,

Moroccan, Persian, Polish, Columbian,

Mexican, Japanese—the takeout menu list can

extend as long at the Great Wall. But try

having three of these different cuisines in one

day and besides indigestion, you’ll also have to

fuel up the gas tank again. That’s because all

of these different cuisines, with the exception

of the trendy hotspots, are in intricately

segregated neighborhoods that may border

each other, but never cohesively intercept each

other.

However, ours is an example of an

intercepted, intersected neighborhood. My

Italian mother married my Lithuanian father. I

am a violation of these segregated

neighborhoods and therefore don’t belong in

one, along with the rest regular “white”

Chicagoans. But I’ve never felt like a regular

Chicagoan—my family is a mishmash of

customs, values and traditions.

I remain a yuppie on the cusp of

gentrifying Chinatown. Perhaps the glares and

stares are warranted. My building, at the very

center of Chinatown, is flooded with Patels,

Smiths, Lapinskis, Giovanottis, Santos’, Chins,

Fosters—a melting pot of urban professionals,

who represent a world outside of what should

be inside Chinatown. We live here because it is

close to the lake, downtown and two major

universities, not because we need to live close

to others who speak our language, share our

customs, traditions, religions and imported

foods. We don’t belong here, and should our

friends find out what a great place this is to

live, we’ll together wipe out the culture of

Chinatown altogether.

It could happen, and has to Little Italy

on Taylor Street, the African-American

community on Maxwell Street, a Mexican

community in Logan Square and Pilsen—the

list goes on. Urbanization is wiping Chicago

clear of its strong ethnic roots. In fact, a study

by the Migration Policy Institute has shown

dream a l i t t l e dream of c h ina town


38Citizen Culture

that in Chicago, a new trend among

immigrants is already occurring,

suburbanization. New immigrants are making

the suburbs their homes now more than ever,

finding more support from the community and

civil programs than in the city. The rising costs

for city housing due to more than a decade-

long trend of urbanization may also be a key

factor. The city is on the verge of becoming as

bland and soulless as a mini-mall with a

Panera, Best Buy, Anne Taylor Loft and

Starbucks—the kind you can find in any

American city, the kind that makes you forget

where you are because you could be anywhere.

But what would happen if the

segregated ethnic neighborhoods did more

than grudgingly purchase celery from each

other and united to battle the common enemy,

the young urban professional? What would

happen if they decided to live with each other

instead of next to each other? If my great

grandmother could make a cannoli shell out of

a wanton wrapper, perhaps anything is

possible.

In a recent project with my husband to

create a family tree, I studied the areas in Italy

from where my family had lived, and I asked

questions regarding my Lithuanian family. It

turns out that the area in Calabria from where

my grandmother migrated was once heavily

populated by Turks to the east and Greeks to

the west. In fact, one hundred miles from her

village is a town, the only town in the world,

where Ancient Greek is still spoken. On my

Sicilian side, men and women share a common

disease that is only found among sub-Saharan

Africans. I was told that my grandfather was

not Lithuanian, but in fact Russian, and that

his father had simply escaped Russia to

Lithuania, thusly showing origin of country as

Lithuania at Ellis Island. This begins to blur

the definitive line of the origins of my genes.

I’m quite sure the line blurs even more,

and yet at the same time becomes clearer. The

Genographic Project sponsored by National

Geographic and IBM, is a study being conducted

to find the origin of DNA and how it

populated the planet, including migratory

What would happen if the segregated ethnicneighborhoods did more than grudgingly purchasecelery from each other and united to battle thecommon enemy, the young urban professional?


patterns. Anyone can contribute samples of

DNA and in return, find out the origins of the

DNA. Some participants have been surprised

to find that their DNA origin extended much

further than just two generations back. For

instance, an Irish-American man could find

that his DNA is derivative of a small tribe in

Africa or India.

I’ve decided to take the test and am still

waiting for my results. In the meantime, I’m

beginning to realize that it doesn’t matter.

Maybe I’ll find that my DNA can be traced

back to China, that I do belong here in

Chinatown officially, and that I am not a

yuppie invading the culture of a tightly knit

ethnic group. Maybe some of my Chinese

neighbors have DNA linked to Italy or Russia.

It doesn’t really matter and perhaps a wonton

wrapper is the same thing as a cannoli shell…


FICTION

40Citizen Culture

6TH OF SHAWAL, 1444 (MARCH 29, 2023)

Amjad Al-Azizi broke into a smile as he walked

into his office. Sitting in front of his desk was

his old high school chum, Waleed As-Sabry.

Waleed stood and they embraced, clapping

each other on the back, trading kisses on the

cheek.

Amjad might not have recognized his

friend except for the thin scar that cleft

Waleed's eyebrow and a portion of his

forehead. It must have been twenty-five years

since they had last seen each other. He had

gained at least fifty pounds and was wearing

western clothes—tan slacks, white shirt, brown

moccasins. His hair and beard were shot

through with speckles of grey.

“Look at you, Amjad,” Waleed said,

“Chief Officer of the Riyadh Mutawwa.

District Head for the Committee for the

Propagation of Virtue and Prevention of Vice.

You've certainly come up in the world.”

Amjad grinned, smoothing his white

cotton thobe and adjusting his red-and-white-

checked kaffiya scarf. “What about you? World-

famous scientist!”

“I don't know about world-famous…”

“Nobel prize for your work in

neurology. If that's not world-famous,

I don't know what is.”

Waleed shrugged. “And how many Nobel

winners can you name?”

Amjad's paused a minute. “Ibadi!” he said

at last. “That Irani woman. ”

“See what I mean?” Waleed said.

“Tea?” Amjad asked, ringing his assistant

to bring refreshments. In a few minutes, the

M u t a w w a( P a r t O n e )

*

*In Arabic, "one who causes obedience." Also the popular

name of Saudi Arabia's Committee to Prevent Vice and

Promote Virtue.

By Pamela K. Taylor


boy arrived with a tray of cups and saucers, a

teapot, milk, sugar and pastries. He set the tray

on Amjad's desk, and left without a word.

“He doesn't look old enough to be

working,” Waleed said.

“Who, Shafeeq?” Amjad grinned again.

“He's fresh off the boat. Bangladeshi. Nice boy,

really. Very quiet. Never gives me any

problems.”

“Amazing how the older you get, the

younger they look. I wonder if we looked that

young to our bosses, our teachers.”

“We probably did.” Amjad shook his head,

gazing fondly at his friend, and sighed heavily.

“Brings back old memories.”

Waleed chuckled and shook his head too.

“Remember Khaled Maktari?”

“How could I forget Maktari?” Amjad

asked. “He changed the course of my life in

one afternoon.”

“Mine too,” Waleed said.

* * *

They had been teenagers when Maktari

burst onto the scene. A revivalist,

intense, with burning black eyes,

thick black hair that fell to his

shoulders, and a long, wispy, black

beard, Maktari had become

wildly popular almost

overnight.

Amjad and Waleed skipped

their classes one spring day

near the end of their senior

CCm41

year and took a bus to the King Faisal Mosque

in downtown Riyadh to hear him give the

Friday sermon. The mosque was beautiful, with

its high dome, arched windows and elegant

calligraphy carved into the walls, but the boys

barely noticed their surroundings.

Maktari wore a heavy robe and turban,

both white as the walls of the mosque. He

paced back and forth in front of the pulpit,

radiating power and purpose.

“The trouble,” he bellowed, eyes ranging

over the assemblage, “is not that you don't care.

You want to please Allah! You are committed

to pleasing Allah. You are scared—scared of

Allah's Wrath, scared of His Hellfire. What you

lack is discipline.”

He pointed at a man in the front row.

“Every morning you wake up and vow, ‘I will


42Citizen Culture

fiction

not miss my prayers today.’” He turned to the

man's neighbor. “Every evening, you promise,

‘Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow, I won't

forget.’” He moved down the line, pointing to

man after man. “And what happens? You

forget. You delay. Things get in the way—your

boss, your children, your wife, your parents.

You hear the call to prayer and you think, ‘I'll

get to it soon.’ And then it slips your mind. You

want to do what's right, you just need

discipline.”

Maktari stopped in front of Amjad and

Waleed, and his voice dropped. Where it had

been thunderous, it was now intimate, though

still loud enough to carry to the far corners of

the mosque. His finger stabbed towards the

boys; his eyes burrowed into their souls.

“Allah knows your heart. He knows you

want to follow His Way. And He loves you for

that desire. Ask Him, and He will help you

fulfill His Commandment. Throw yourself on

His Mercy, and He will pour righteousness into

your soul. Beg Him for discipline, so that your

body will carry out what your heart desires,

and He will fill your brain with His Order.”

Amjad felt tears streaming down his face.

He was good. He did want to serve God. And

God knew. God cared. He would provide. For

a long time, Amjad sat, feeling at once exposed

and cocooned, while he absorbed the certainty

that God would provide, if only he asked.

* * *

Waleed set his cup on the desk, jarring Amjad

out of his reverie. He leaned forward, eyes

locked onto Amjad's, his voice barely a

whisper. “I've solved the discipline problem.”

“What?”

Waleed held out his fist, and opened it

slowly to reveal a tiny computer chip.

“What's that?” Amjad asked.

“It's the answer to the discipline problem.”

He paused and then asked, “Do you know

what my field of study is?”

“Neurosciences. Brain stuff.”

“Neural implants and brain prosthetics, to

be precise. One the one hand, thought-

controlled prostheses—replacement arms or

legs that the patient moves the same way he

moves natural limbs, only the electric signals

from his brain are collected and communicated

No more missed prayers,

no more self-recrimination,

no fear of Allah's wrath;

Waleed's device was the

answer to all his prayers,

to the prayers of every

devout Muslim.


CCm43

to the prosthesis by tiny electrode-transmitters

rather than nerves. On the other, brain

implants that use automated micro-electrode-

transmitter relays to bypass damaged portions

of brain—the vagus, the occipital nerve, the

hippocampus—in order to maintain normal

function.”

Waleed nodded towards the device in his

palm.

“This,” he said with dramatic flair, “is a

fusion of the two, the culmination of thirty

years of work.”

“But what is it?”

“A computer chip. It sits on your skull, just

behind your ear, transmitting signals to micro-

electrodes placed strategically on the cortex,

and voila, you never miss prayer ever again.”

“What!” Amjad said again, feeling

foolishly at a loss for words. “Why? How?”

“Really, it's not very complicated. At the

proper times, the chip sends a command to the

appropriate electrodes, which emit electric

impulses to stimulate certain nerves. First the

ones that raise your hands, then the ones that

cross them over your chest, make you bow,

prostrate, and so on, until the prayers are

complete.”

“But how does the chip know the right

times?”

“It's been programmed with the algorithms

to generate global prayer schedules, like the

ones you can get off the Internet, and it has a

miniaturized GPS system; it knows where you

are at all times, so you're always on the right

schedule.”

“But what if you're driving a car? Or

asleep?”

“One of the electrodes stimulates the

auditory nerves. Fifteen minutes before prayer

begins, you'll hear a chime—one that no

amount of noise can ever drown out. It gives

you time to pull over, get out of bed, get off

the bus, get out of the shower, wind up

whatever you are doing, and find a good place

to pray. There's a second chime at five minutes,

and a third one at fifteen seconds, just to help

you keep track.”

“You've thought of everything, haven't

you?”

Waleed smiled. “You don't win a Nobel

prize for doing slipshod work. If nothing else,

I've learned to be meticulous.”

Amjad stared at the chip in Waleed's hand.

It was so small.

“Just think, Amjad, you'd never miss

prayers again. Ever.”

“That's incredible,” Amjad said. He was

genuinely astounded. He wasn't sure he would

like giving up control of his body, even for a

few minutes a day…but to never miss prayers

again? Even he, head of the Riyadh Mutawwa,

missed prayers from time to time—slept

through them, or put them off until he

suddenly realized it was too late. Even though

he was completely convinced Allah would

punish him for every prayer he missed, even


44Citizen Culture

fiction

though he believed absolutely in the worldly

benefits of salaat, still he missed one now and

again. Waleed's device certainly was attractive.

But putting something into your brain…

“I know,” Waleed interrupted his thoughts.

“You're thinking, 'Would I really risk brain

surgery for this?'”

“That's just what I was thinking.”

“That's the best part, it's relatively non-

invasive. Yes, the electrodes are seeded

throughout the cortex, but we don't have to

open the skull or anything like that, we can go

through the existing orifices. Kind of like a

laparoscopy. We use tiny cameras and

miniaturized implements. It's an outpatient

procedure. Even better, the chip sits on the

surface of the skull. After a couple months you

can't even see the scar where it was implanted.

And, if something malfunctions, or if we come

up with a better model, it's a simple matter to

replace the chip.”

“And what happens if there is a

malfunction?”

“Well, first of all, it would be exceedingly

rare; our prostheses have a failure rate of

under .03%. But if there were a malfunction, it

would just stop working. I've got safety

programming that stops it from, say, sending to

all the electrodes at the same time, creating a

seizure, and it's got limiters that prevent it from

firing for more than fifteen minutes at a

stretch, so even if it started sending erroneous

signals, the effects wouldn't last long, and you

could go to a doctor to have it repaired.”

Amjad pursed his lips. “You couldn't just

turn it off ?”

“That would defeat the whole purpose. If

you could turn it off, you would whenever

prayer wasn't exactly convenient.”

Amjad slapped the side of his head. “Of

course.”

“The thing is, because the chip sits just

under the skin, it is easy enough to remove that

almost anyone with general medical training

can take it out. Change your mind, arthritis in

your knees makes it impossible to do the

motions of salaat, we just remove the chip. The

electrodes can remain in without harming

anything.”

Amjad's brow furrowed.

“What about Eid? How can you program

in Eid when we don't even know what the date

will be until the moon is sighted?”

Waleed laughed. “You can still pray on

your own. Whenever you want. It's not like the

chip blocks prayers at other times.”

Amjad joined in with Waleed's laughter.

“Yeah, of course.”

“And, naturally, it doesn't say the prayers

for you, or make your heart feel God's

presence. You still recite the surahs yourself, and

choose which one you're going to recite. That's

the best part—as long as you are reciting, the

chip receives audio input and doesn't move to

the next step in the program.


You can choose a long surah or a short one.”

Amjad leaned back in his chair.

“This is brilliant, but why are you bringing

it to me?”

Waleed blinked.

“I thought the Mutawwa would be

interested in…in supporting this.

NeuroDynamics doesn't particularly care if

people fulfill their duty to perform salaat or not.

Surely you see the potential?”

Amjad nodded slowly. See the potential?

You'd have to be blind not to! No more missed

prayers, no more self-recrimination, no fear of

Allah's wrath; Waleed's device was the answer

to all his prayers, to the prayers of every

devout Muslim.

“Yes,” Amjad said, excitement growing in

his chest. “I think the Mutawwa would be

interested. In fact, I can imagine a whole lot of

people would be interested. I mean, it's the sort

of thing you dream about!”

Waleed swallowed, evidently holding back

strong emotions.

“What I need is someone to back me. To

promote my cause with the proper officials. To

help me get funding for a lab, and a

production facility.”

Amjad let out a gust of pent-up breath.

“The first person to talk to is the national head

of the Mutawwa. If we can sell him on it…

well, he's a member of the royal family. Not

particularly close to the King, but he's got good

relations with some of the more conservative

sheikhs, and wields a surprising amount of

influence. I'll ask Shafeeq to make an

appointment for us.”

“Thank you, Amjad, thank you. May God

bless you.”

“And you too,” Amjad answered.

An odd look crossed Waleed's face.

“Amjad, do you have a prayer room here?”

“Of course! You're in the headquarters of

the Mutawwa.” Then something dawned on

him, and Amjad glanced at the clock. It would

be time for afternoon prayers in fifteen

minutes.

“Oh my God,” he said. “You've got one

them, don't you.”

Waleed smiled.

“There had to be at least one human

trial.”

“How long have you had it?”

“Three years.” Waleed's smile widened,

and a beatific look crossed his face. “I haven't

missed a prayer in three years.”

CCm45

Religion: Often stranger than fiction.

“Mutawwa (Part Two)”coming in Issue #9 of

Citizen Culture


46Citizen Culture

psychology

HOSTAGE OR CRISIS NEGOTIATORS are law

enforcement officers who attempt to resolve

high-crisis situations with their words, while

simultaneously attempting to avoid a police

tactical intervention. They must remain calm

under emotionally demanding circumstances

and maintain self-control. The negotiator is

expected to set his or her emotions aside,

uphold a non-judgmental approach, and do so,

in most instances, in an amicable fashion. They

must bring a lifetime of experience to the table

in order to manage potentially volatile

situations and be the calming voice of reason

in the most unreasonable and chaotic of

situations. Hostage teams mandate that their

negotiators are mature, stable individuals who

can adapt to rapidly changing circumstances.

They do this knowing that the stakes are high,

understanding that if their negotiation attempt

fails, lives could very well be lost.

Burdened with this awesome task, police

agencies place special emphasis in the selection

and training of the hostage/crisis negotiator.

Proper or improper candidate selection can

impact either positively or negatively on future

assignments. The negotiator must possess

Do Ethnic,

Religious,

and Cultural Backgrounds

Impact Hostage Negotiations?

By Jack J. Cambria


emotional maturity, good listening,

interviewing and communication skills,

credibility, coping abilities, and commitment to

the negotiating strategy.

Although the negotiator is not usually

visible to the hostage-taker, whenever possible,

selection of negotiators should reflect the

ethnic origin of the local population. Resources

should include languages spoken in the

surrounding communities and access to both

male and female negotiators. These resources

may prove helpful in resolving conflict, but the

matching of personality-types is the most

crucial criterion when dealing with someone in

crisis. The strategy of trying to pair the right

set of negotiator-hostage-taker through ethnic

or religious background, gender, social culture

or sub-culture dynamics may have its place in

theoretical concepts, but in practice, the main

concerns are the two individuals involved

(negotiator and hostage-taker) and the rapport

developed between them, regardless of

individual background.

Frequently, the person in crisis has had

some traumatic event occur recently in their

life, possibly within the last 24 to 48 hours, and

unable to cope, acts out to a degree that

requires police intervention. During this early

stage of the crisis, emotions are high,

rationality is low, and the incident quickly

becomes unpredictable and out of control. By

the time the hostage team arrives, the incident

is already well underway. The negotiator must

now enter the incident without knowing how it

began, which can be like entering into the

middle of a movie. The negotiator must ask,

“How did we get to this point of the crisis,” and

“Why are we here right now?” Although the

reasons for a crisis are as numerous as the

crises themselves, there is usually a common

bond between them. Crisis situations are all

emotionally driven, and when arousal is

intense, survival is threatened. The subject is

not particularly focused on the ethnic,

religious, gender or cultural background of the

negotiator. What they are concerned with is

their own personal safety and a venue in which

their needs can be addressed and where

options can be explored to work out a solution

to their problems.

In one particular case, the negotiator and

hostage-taker both came from adjoining towns

in Guyana; one from Georgetown and the

other from Rosignol. Regardless of their 30-

year age difference, the two quickly developed

a rapport and began discussing politics,

customs and families they both knew in

Guyana. But the negotiator was ineffective in

resolving the hostage-taker's personal crisis.

There were profound emotional issues and

despair deep within the hostage-taker that were

beyond the negotiator's scope. In fact, this was

the third time in a six-year period that the

hostage-taker had taken his wife hostage, this

time using a gun. This final incident lasted 28

hours, utilizing 12 negotiators of different

ethnic, religious and gender backgrounds

throughout the negotiation process. The end


48Citizen Culture

psychology

result was that the hostage was rescued by the

hostage team, and sadly, the hostage-taker took

his own life.

To further develop rapport between

negotiator and hostage-taker, the New York

City Police Department's (NYPD) Hostage

Negotiation Team (HNT) insists that the

negotiator applicant be at the minimum rank

of detective, assigned to a Detective Bureau

command, and have at least twelve years of

policing experience before being considered.

Applicants meeting these criteria usually

possess extensive experience in various field

assignments from which to draw, and, by

default, finds him or herself in the desired age

group (at a minimum of thirty-four years old).

This age group usually ensures that an

applicant has experienced the emotions of love

and being disappointed or hurt in love, has

known success, and perhaps most importantly,

has known failure. All are vital attributes that

can be utilized when dealing with someone in

crisis, enabling the negotiator to say to the

subject, “I know about that and I can talk to you

about it.” As a result, the process of de-

escalating the crisis can begin, because the

hostage-taker now has someone to talk with,

who can perhaps understand their pain.

Hostage or Crisis Negotiation Teams are

an integral component of law-enforcement

agencies' planned response to critical incidents.

They are most effective when used in

association with a strong tactical presence.

Mandatory and regular training proves vital to

sustaining a negotiating team's proficiency.

Modern law enforcement agencies rely on

properly trained, equipped, and staffed hostage

negotiation teams in resolving life-threatening

incidents. Although ethnicity, religion and

gender are factors in cultivating rapport,

ultimately it is the personal interaction and

connection that is formed between the

negotiator and hostage-taker that has proven

most effective.

Crisis situations are all emotionally driven,and when arousal is intense, survival is threatened.



50Citizen Culture

A MOMENTOUS EVENT HAPPENS EVERY YEAR

around Saint Patrick's Day—and no, I'm not

talking about the incident where one of your

co-workers downs eight green beers and then

hits on you all night at the after-work party. I'm

speaking about the South By Southwest Music

Festival, or SXSW as it's more commonly

known (if you're über hip, you just say “South

By”). The music festival is part of a three-

pronged operation—preceding the music

showcase are the film and interactive

technology conferences, festivals and trade

shows—but let's be real: Charlize Theron's

presence at this year's film festival

notwithstanding, it's the five-day music

extravaganza that has people buzzing,

worldwide. SXSW is held every year, mid-

March, in the scenic town of Austin, Texas,

home to not only the reigning college football

national champs University of Texas, but a

bridge with over 30,000 bats living under it

and an unofficial town motto of “Keep Austin

SXSW Music Festival and Conference Has Become theUndisputed Event of the Musical Year.

Here's All You Need to Know About SXSW 2006.

By Jack De Voss50

Citizen Culture

local flavor: SxSW

Top of Top of the Heapthe Heap


CCm51

Weird.” I myself am a veteran of four SXSW

festivals and have actually been arrested for

messing with Texas while there, so watch

yourself down in the Lone Star State.

Since 1987, the SXSW Music Festival has

turned the state capitol of Texas into the

premier place to see the best that the world of

music has to offer. Rock, jazz, country, blues,

indie-rock, techno, reggae, hip hop,

electronica, and just about every other style of

music can be heard each night at over fifty

venues, most located on the venerable party

strip 6th street, and within steps of each other.

SXSW 2006 will feature fourteen hundred

bands from well over thirty countries—

unrivaled throughout the world.

After the late nineties decline of stadium

tours and festivals like Lollapalooza, SXSW,

which was once just a place for industry

insiders to check out new music, is becoming

more and more of an event for John Q.

Concert-Lover to circle on his calendar. Why?

Well, word has spread that if you want to catch

“the next big thing,” you are almost assured

that they'll be playing at SXSW. And it's all

almost too good to be true. The bands are

everywhere, the weather in central Texas in

mid-March is divine, the town is

accommodating (police close off 6th Street to

traffic so festival-goers can take over a mile-

long stretch without fear), the locals are

friendly, and the venues are superb. And those

300,000 bats are still pretty dormant from the

winter.

With SXSW steadily growing each year,

hotels in Austin usually sell out by Christmas,

so if you're thinking of going this year, you

may want to bring a tent. Music badges are the

all-access Holy Grail and run over five

hundred dollars. Wristbands, which will get

you into all the venues to see the bands—but

place you second in pecking order to badge-

holders—also run steep price-wise (between

$150 and $200, depending when you

purchase); but when you factor in the amount

of bands you will get to see over five days, the

cost hurts less. Besides, there are no hotel

rooms, so that's one less expense to worry

about.

The festival is still largely for music

industry types to network and broker, so there

will be lots of people flashing credentials to

skip in line ahead of you, and plenty of celebs

wandering about. Plus, you will be sure to see

The King of 6th Street, a Bootsy Collins-esque

TThe whe worord is out: ifd is out: ifyyou want to catchou want to catch“the next big thing“the next big thing,”,”yyou arou are almoste almostassurassured that theed that they'ry'reeplaplaying at SXSWying at SXSW..

CCm51

CCm51


52Citizen Culture

bass player in a glitter suit that is just about the

best thing ever, and “Beatle Bob,” a guy who

looks like Paul McCartney and seems to be at

every single show. Get your name on the list for

one of the many magazine, record label or

media parties, and you may find yourself still

in Austin come next March.

Some other SXSW 2006 highlights

include:

Neil Young, who is the keynote speaker at

this year's music conference. Young will be

speaking, along with Academy Award winner

Jonathan Demme, about the film Neil

Young/Heart Of Gold, directed by Demme. The

film will be shown on March 16. There will

also be a screening of a new film about the

Beastie Boys, Awesome: I Fuckin' Shot That!,

which captures a 2004 concert, as filmed by 50

fans, in New York's Madison Square Garden.

The Beasties will make a question-and-answer

appearance at the Austin Convention Hall on

March 15.

Morrissey, the one and only Pope of Mope.

The former Smiths front man and celebrated

celibate will not only be performing on March

16, but he will also give a rare interview. Rolling

Stone will conduct the interview and the BBC

will present the concert later the same day.

Echo & The Bunnymen: young enough at heart to play hide and seek

52Citizen Culture

local flavor: SxSW

New Kids in the Park: SXSW could be Arctic Monkeys' American break-out.


CCm53

Gogol Bordello, a band from the Big Apple

that mixes hardcore punk rock with, well,

Gypsy music. The band incorporates

accordion, fiddle, electric guitar, and dub with

cabaret and punk rock energy. Their sound is

raucous, sweaty, recklessly vibrant, and their

live show will knock you on the floor twice.

Lead singer Eugene Hutz also recently

appeared in the Elijah Wood movie Everything

Is Illuminated. Gogol Bordello performs on

March 16 at Emo's Main Room.

Arctic Monkeys, which are actually a band

and not some strange new Austin City Zoo

attraction. Arctic Monkeys have already scored

two #1 singles in the U.K. and hold the

achievement of fastest selling debut album in

UK chart history. SXSW 2006 will be their

coming out party here in the U.S. Catch the

Monkeys on March 17 at La Zona Rosa.

Robert Pollard, who is considered by many

to be one of the most prolific songwriters in

music history. As a matter of fact, while you

were reading that sentence, Pollard wrote two

whole albums worth of material. Better known

for his days as the lead singer of indie-rock

legends Guided By Voices, Pollard has just

released his first solo record; check for his next

one in stores early next week. Pollard plays

Antone's on March 18.

Echo & The Bunnymen, who contrary to

popular opinion, never broke up. Formed in

Liverpool in 1978, Echo & The Bunnymen are

some of the trailblazers of the New Wave

movement, and produced some of the best

music ever to come out of the Eighties—not

just the opening song in the movie Donnie

Darko and a cover of “People Are Strange” in

The Lost Boys. Rumor has always been that

Echo is the name of the drum machine the

band uses, but this may be only partly true; by

the second record, the band had replaced the

drum machine with an actual person-but kept

their name. Echo & The Bunnymen play Town

Lake Stage at Auditorium Shores on March

16.

That's just a small taste of what's in store

at this year's festival. There are about 1,394

more bands to mention, and I truly would love

to, I really would, but you see I have to go shop

for a tent. I forgot to book a hotel room.

Interactive: March 10-14

Film: March 10-18

Music: March 15-19

CCm53

CCm53


6* 4* 6AUSTIN, OUR 3RD LOCAL FLAVOR CITY,

HAS SEEN THE SPOTLIGHT A LOT IN 2006.

In January the city's own University of Texas

Longhorns won its first College Football National

Championship since 1970, and in March, Austin

plays host to the annual SXSW film, technology

and music bash—which has become the biggest

and baddest musical event of them all (see our

coverage, page 50). But those who have spent time

down in the beautiful Texas Hill Country know

there's a hell of a lot more to Austin than the

University or SXSW and the city's fabled slogan

“Live Music Capital of the World.”

Austin is a partier's party city—with notorious 6th

Street serving as the cornerstone. With three

hundred sunny days each year it's a haven for

outdoors enthusiasts. A progressive vibe separates

Austin from the red swath of greater Texas. And

it's also one of the friendliest, most laid-back spots

on Earth (go away, San Diego).

If there's one knock against Austin it's that it's

growing a little too fast; too many people have

caught on. Population is nearing three quarters of

a million. But even that growth has its advantages-

Austin is at the top of any list of best cities for

singles.

Whether it's to sample some of the best BBQ

around, to hike/bike/swim yourself silly, to sit

outside in March and sip on a giant margherita, or

to party until the morn and follow it up with some

delicious Tex-Mex, head on down to Austin. Let

the 6*4*6 be your cheat sheet; it's tried and true.

And don't forget: Relax, baby. It's Austin.

54Citizen Culture

6* 4* 66* 4* 6local flavor: cheat sheet

Austin

By Theo Mazumdar


Shelter (Splurge)1 * The Driskill 604 Brazos

2 * The Mansion at Judge’s Hill 1900 Rio Grande

3 * Omni Austin Hotel Downtown700 San Jacinto Blvd.

4 * Lake Austin Spa Resort1705 S. Quinlan Park Road

5 * Four Seasons Hotel Austin 98 San Jacinto Blvd.

6 * Hotel San Jose 1306 S. Congress Ave.

Shelter (Conserve)1 * Austin Folk House 506 W. 22nd

2 * Carrington’s Bluff Bed & Breakfast 1900 David St.

3 * Brook House Bed & Breakfast 609 W. 33rd

4 * The Heart of Texas Motel 1200 S. Congress Ave.

5 * Austin Motel 1220 S. Congress Ave.

6 * Best Western 7928 Gessner Dr.

Bars1 * Emo’s 603 Red River

2 * Club de Ville 900 Red River

3 * The Ginger Man 304 W. 4th St.

4 * The Ritz 320 E. 6th St.

5 * Sholz Garden 1607 San Jacinto Blvd.

6 * Light Bar 408 Congress Ave.

BBQ1 * The Salt Lick 18001 FM 1826, Driffwood, TX

2 * Sam’s Bar-B-Cue 2000 E. 12th St

3 * Kreuz Market 619 N. Colorado St., Lockhart, TX

4 * Ruby’ss 512 W. 29th St.

5 * Stubb’s Bar-B-Q 801 Red River St

6 * Iron Works BBQ 100 Red River St

CCm55


56Citizen Culture

All-Nighter1 * Kerbey Lane Cafe

3704Kerbey Lane

2606 Guadalupe

2700 S. Lamar

12602 Research Blvd.

2 * Magnolia Cafe

2304 Lake Austin Blvd.

1920 S. Congress Ave.

3 * Star Seeds Cafe 3101 N. Interstate 35

4 * Mojo’s Daily Grind 2714 Guadalupe

5 * Katz’s Deli & Bar 618 W. 6th St.

6 * Ken’s Donuts & Pastries

2820 Guadalupe

Cheap Eats1 * Hut’s Hamburgers 807 W. 6th St.

2 * Mike’s Pub 108 E. 7th St.

3 * Crown & Anchor Pub 2911 San Jacinto Blvd.

4 * Hoover’s Cooking 2002 Manor Rd.

5 * Hyde’s Park Bar & Grill 4206 Duval St.

6 * Central Market 4001 N. Lamar Blvd.

local flavor: cheat sheet

Lives1 * Antone’s 213 W. 5th St.

2 * Cedar Street Courtyard 208 W. 4th St

3 * La Zona Rosa 612 W. 4th St.

4 * Saxon Pub 1320 S. Lamar Blvd.

5 * Cactus Cafe 24th St. & Guadalupe

Texas Union Building, University of Texas

6 * Broken Spoke 3201 S. Lamar Blvd.


CCm57

Adventure1 * Barton Springs 2201 Barton Springs Rd.

2 * Town Lake Hike & Bike Trail

920 W. Riverside Dr.

3 * Zilker Park 2100 Barton Springs Rd.

4 * Mount Bonnell 3800 Mount Bonnell Dr.

5 * Enchanted Rock

16710 RR 965, Fredericksburg, TX

6 * Hamilton Pool

24300 Hamilton Pool Rd. Dripping Springs, TX

Joe1 * Little City 916 Congress Ave.; 2604 Guadalupe

2 * Mozart’s 3825 Lake Austin Blvd.

3 * Spider House 2908 Fruth

4 * Progress Coffee 500 San Marcos

5 * Halcyon 218 W. 4th St.

6 * Azul 1808 E. Cesar Chavez

Kicks1 * Joy of Austin 3105 S. Internstate 35

2 * Dreamers DVD 11218 N. Lamar at Braker

3 * Sugar’s Uptown Cabaret

404 Highland Mall Blvd.

4 * The Yellow Rose 6528 North Lamar

5 * The Landing Strip 745 S. Bastrop Hwy.

6 * Expose Gentlemen’s Adult

Entertainment 3615 S. Congress Ave.


H o lH o l ll y wy w oodood ’’s s GirGir llGo-Go-TToo


CCm59

Someone in the media once called you a stealth celebrity.

You seem to be able to keep your private life, private.

I know. Isn’t that fun? I love that. I don’t have

an agenda; I just do what I do. I’m extremely

happy with the work I’ve been able to do and

how I’ve been able to live my life in

conjunction with that.

However, when you got the Emmy and Oscar

nominations within six months of each other that

must’ve changed things a little.

There are little shifts when those things

happen. There have been two years in a row

when I’ve been nominated for all three (Emmy,

Oscar, Tony), and won the Emmys, so that

does do something. It doesn’t change my life.

Does it shift things a bit? Yeah it does.

Most of your roles have been juicy character pieces, but

you let loose and did a good comedy turn on several

episodes of the sitcom Frasier.

Thank you. That was fun. It was a great

opportunity. I’m trying to do much as I

possibly can to learn about different stuff. I’ve

tried to narrate documentaries, voiceover stuff

audio books, radio plays, theater because it’s all

just so interesting and there are different skills

that you need. The sitcom is something I knew

absolutely nothing about and I have no idea

where my life is going to go and what my

needs will be as the years roll by and I thought

I need to learn about this and why not do it

with the best people in the business? I’d be a

fool not to take the opportunity to do it. And I

went and did one and loved it and then they

asked to come back and finish out the season

with them, which I was really honored to do

and it was a kick and a half… so interesting.

Do you consider yourself a bit of a workaholic?

I have worked an awful lot in the last few years.

I made four movies this past year. And I’m

trying to slow down. I have just had seven

weeks off. You get tired of traveling, and

missing people’s birthdays, weddings and

funerals, and you can get isolated and that’s

not fun. As wonderful as the work is, there’s no

time to absorb; you go from project to project

to project and you don’t even have time to let

that experience sit with you and to learn from

it and digest it. When you’re going from one

very intense thing to the next and you’re shut

The CCM Interview: Laura LinneyTo describe Laura Linney as “ubiquitous” is something of an understatement, when even before her recentGolden Globe nomination for The Squid and the Whale, she stole scenes in films as varied as The Exorcism of Emily

Rose and Love Actually, not to mention a turn toward the exhibitionist in Kinsey, for which she received an Oscarnomination. Linney sat with Dennis Brabham to reflect on a thoughtful career that shows no signs of slowing.

By Dennis Brabham


60Citizen Culture

in rooms on soundstages, time is very

odd…and you’re not sleeping in your own bed

and you’re not turning out the light that

belongs to you. It does weird things and you

can fight it as much as you can, but time goes.

It’s gotten better that the parts are

getting better and the work has gotten better. I

think the last two or three years I’ve had one

fantastic job after the next and I am very

aware of that. And I’ve loved the people, I’ve

loved the work, and then on another hand it

has gotten more complicated. You get tired.

Poor me (laughs). There’s nothing worse

than a complaining successful actress. I mean

for God’s sake, it sounds pathetic. Life is very,

very good.

Was there one film in your career that really made you

feel as if things were coming together?

No, and it’s really funny because people will

point to certain things…like You Can Count on

Me, Tales of the City, Primal Fear, The Truman

Show…people will point to Sight Unseen which is

a play I did in New York. People point to very

different things. I think for me it’s just been

about a layering of work. There are certainly

parts where I’ve felt walls come down and I

feel like I’ve taken a giant leap forward. I’ve

certainly had that and that’s a good feeling.

What would be something that would surprise people

about your high profile male co-stars like Richard Gere,

Liam Neeson et al.?

To realize they’re movie stars for a reason and

they work really hard. I think there’s a

misconception that—and there are actors who

do this—they’re charming handsome and

charismatic so they just walk through the part,

but that’s not the case. They work hard.

You just completed several starring roles, yet there are a

lot of actresses who complain about not being able to

find good meaty parts for women. Do you think it’s

because they don’t look in the right place or do you think

the pendulum is shifting and there are more roles out

there?

Some of the people aren’t looking in the right

places. I think if you want a good part that’s

going to pay you an enormous amount of

money and bring you fame, no, there are not a

lot of those parts. If you want to work, there

are a lot of places to go. I’ve been very lucky

and I know that. I think there are parts out

there, but it depends really on what you want.

A lot of the independent films that I’m

in, take a very long time to get made. Jindabyne

(a film slated for 2006 release) was a movie I

committed to for two years before it went. The

Squid and The Whale was over four years. Kinsey

was three to four years, so a lot of the

independent movies will come to you because

you believe in the filmmaker and you believe in

the script, you think it’s worthy, and you think

the CCM interview


CCm61

it would be a great experience so you attach

yourself to the project. And then it takes a very

long time to get the financing together. So then

when they come along with the financing, we

can go, you have to be ready to go. There are a

few that I hope will get made eventually and

maybe if my current films do well, they will.

There are movies that come to you, you

read them and you want to do them and you

know you’re going to have to wait for a while

and you hope they get made. They always

work out the way they’re supposed to. With the

right cast. I’ve been connected to so many

independent projects where a lead had to drop

out and everyone is distraught. Then someone

who’s even better and more right for it will

come along. You have to have faith. I’m not a

religious person, but I do have faith in certain

things.

You said in reference to the movie Exorcism of Emily

Rose that making a film of that nature was concern

because we’re living in dangerous times. Why is that?

L.A.’s a one thing town. Regardless of whoyou are, you’re going to feel bad aboutyourself. So you’ve got to go in and get outand reevaluate your perspective.


62Citizen Culture

the CCM interview

62Citizen Culture

Religion is powerful stuff and while the

primary focus of religion is to unite people, it

can also really divide people and it can be

abused and it can be disrespectful. And I had

concerns about that. That it would be a movie

that would be respectful to both sides and that

wouldn’t give any answers whatsoever. That for

every claim made on one side, there’d be a

counter on the other, so that the movie gave

absolutely no answers.

I spoke with one director who said the only difference

between independent film and mainstream is the budget

is bigger. Do you think that’s the case?

No. There are many more differences. The

scripts…most scripts, particularly in the

commercial world are written to be greenlit.

They’re not written to be acted. Most

independent films are written to be acted, as

opposed to convincing someone to give you the

money to make the money. You’re starting

from a completely different place.

Conversely if there was some part in a big budget movie

like the next Spider Man, and they were going to pay

you a ton of money for two weeks work, would you do

it?

Of course I would, if it was a good part, with

some great villain, where I could have things

growing out of my body. If there’s something

to actually act I don’t care what it’s in—if it’s

worthy, fun and a challenge, then, sure.

So you could see yourself in virtually any genre?

Sure. Take The Exorcist, one of the best movies

ever. Ellen Burstyn is brilliant in that movie.

Horror movies can be stupid. Or they can be

terrific. They’re tricky; they’re not easy to pull

off.

An easy question: seen any good movies lately?

If you have not seen Inherit The Wind lately,

watch Inherit The Wind. Oh God, it’s wonderful!

Wonderful character-driven courtroom drama

and Spencer Tracy is a genius. And they let

him act. That’s the most refreshing thing about

films like that and To Kill a Mockingbird—they

let the actors act. They keep the camera on.

Any of your recent films have that quality?

I probably won’t know that for another five

years. I’ll watch a movie once just so I can talk

about it, but I don’t like to watch myself. It

makes me uncomfortable. I’m really eager to

see everyone else’s work and excited to see the

cinematographer’s work and the more I learn

about film the more I’m seeing different stuff,

but I can’t divorce myself from it, so I can’t see

it for what it truly is. I’ll put it away for a few

years, and then I’ll take a look at it—I have to

forget a lot of stuff before I can see what it is


CCm63

CCm63

really is.

What’s your take on Los Angeles compared to the East

Coast?

I started things here on the East Coast, but I

like LA. I have a lot of friends who are there. I

couldn’t live there full time, but I enjoy it when

I go. You have to be very strict with yourself

when you go there; it’s a one thing town and

the thing I find most difficult is that regardless

of who you are, you’re going to feel bad about

yourself, it’s going to make you feel bad about

yourself and that’s hard. So you’ve got to go in

[do your work] and get out and reevaluate

your perspective, remember who you really are

and then you go back in. I don’t want to live

[in L.A.] full time.

Does being nominated for an Oscar give you a high?

It’s really nice. It’s a really nice thing. Oscar

nominations can be extremely important and

then they can mean nothing at all. I’m really

proud of my nominations and I can’t even

believe that I can say that, that I’ve been

nominated. You just have these moments

of…wow! And particularly because they’re for

two films (Kinsey and You Can Count on Me) that

I’m extremely proud of.

Then does it bother you when you go to the Oscars

ceremony and all they talk about is the dress you wear?

It’s not fun, and it sorts of shifts focus a bit

from what its really about and you have to

choose what its about for you. You can be very

easily distracted by all of that stuff and you

have to just check in with yourself constantly

and know why you’re there and what you want

to take from it and what you won’t participate

in and try to enjoy it as much as you can. It’s

overwhelming and it’s a barrage, a tidal wave

of stuff to deal with. A lot of weird pressures.

Do you find directors who were actors tend to let the

actors tell the story more?

Yeah, and sometimes writers too. Like Ken

Lonergan (writer/director of You Can Count on

Me) who had never made a movie in his life,

who’d never been on a movie set, had an

instinctive understanding of how to translate

his material from one medium to the next.

You were talking before about how some directors let the

camera linger and let the actors act. Are there any

directors who you think get it?

Clint Eastwood. Clint gets it. Peter Weir does.

Bill Condon does. Of the recent films I’ve shot

I can’t comment on because I haven’t seen

what they’ll be brave enough to leave in and

what they’ll cut out. The European directors

tend to get it.


Inside Esquire Magazine’s Exclusive In-Depth Coverage of the

World Trade Center Rebuilding

64Citizen Culture

64Citizen Culture

The Battle for “Larry Silverstein Place”

magazines

The Insiders Look (L to R):Esquire’s editor-in-chief, David Granger; staff writer Scott Raab; Executive Editor Mark Warren


CCm65

By Jonathon Scott Feit

Mark, what possessed you—as Executive Editor—to

take on such a massive serialization? (Scott and David

make clear that this project was your idea.) You’re

essentially putting a book into a magazine, without

excerpting—I’m sure a book will come out of it.

Warren: Basically, and there certainly can be

more [than is printed in the magazine] in a

book, because for every piece, Scott does three

or four times as much reporting. We just

decided that whatever happens Downtown is

an epic American story, and somebody ought

to do it, and it ought to be us.

But why Esquire?

Warren: Because we know something about

long-form narrative nonfiction. The sixteen

acres Downtown [in what used to be the World

Trade Center] is some of the most contested

real estate on earth. What happened down

there—everything about it—what happened to

it on September 11th [2001], the fact that it’s

in New York City, the fact that real estate in

New York City is precious, the fact that

anytime anyone aspires to do something great

there are always people shooting at them. And

everyone, given the symbolic nature of that

ground—what was there, what happened

there, and what has resulted since September

11th in the world—just means that that space,

and what happens there, there’s a great tension

to it.

And that’s not even regarding the fact

that just building something great, in and of

itself, without the political significance, is just

inherently interesting. How it happens; the

mechanics of it. Physically how one prepares

and manipulates the earth to build a

mammoth structure is just interesting. It’s a

great, great story.

[Before our questions begin, Mark takes a call from

Scott, speaking on developments in the political

wrangling over the World Trade Center site. The one-

side of the conversation we could hear:]

“This just today?…Jesus…Well, it only

heightens, it only increases the power of the

story, I think. It’s damn interesting. What

funny, it’s almost laughable: what’s $500

million to a guy who pays $12 million a month


66Citizen Culture

magazines

in rent, anyway? …It’s so weird. It’s just a

public relations battle, right?”

You say that “anytime you have a good idea in New

York, people get shot at.” Who’s been shooting at

you—what’s been the negative response to your

coverage? Who has said, “Why Esquire”—why a

men’s magazine, even though you are a classic brand?

Warren: What I was talking about is not so

much the obstacles that we have faced, but the

obstacles when one presumes to do something

really big and ambitious in New York,

especially on that sixteen acres.

Raab: The only thing directly that I

can tie to that is that some of the people

involved in the effort of rebuilding, you know,

the Times should really be doing something like

this. I haven’t run into anyone who’s said

“How dare you” or “Why Esquire?” And so far

I haven’t heard anything along the lines of

“This is a very sensitive subject, that therefore

you need to approach it in a different way.”

It’s funny, ‘cause in live in North Jersey

close enough to the city, my concern would be

that people here are not paying attention

anymore and perhaps would not think that

[the World Trade Center rebuilding] would

merit this kind of project. What else would

you expect but that it would lead to all kinds of

politics and delay and, you know, a shrug of

the shoulders. That kind of negativity, but I

haven’t heard that either.

Warren: Our focus from the very beginning

was that we were interested in and mindful of

the politics of all this. That just what Scott

and I were just talking about (on the phone):

the politics are reaching a fever pitch right

now. Knife fights over the ownership of what’s

going on down there. Not so much Freedom

Tower, but everything else that’s happening at

the site.

So we’re going to be mindful of that,

but that wasn’t going to be our primary focus.

Our primary focus was everything to do with

the building of this massive structure, this one

signature structure. What’s going on under the

ground, what’s going on to prepare the ground,

and just how you build one of these bastards,

especially when there are all these other

pressures brought to bear on you.

Has something happened that’s particularly

newsworthy, that we can announce before your next

segment comes out?

Raab: This week [the 1st week of

February], any pretense of amity or amity or


CCm67

“I love Larry Silverstein as a character; Iadmire certain qualities about him and allthat. But to me, you can't look at anyoneinvolved in all this and say, ‘There's theknight coming to the rescue of the WorldTrade Center rebuilding.’ At this point,everyone is trying to make everyone elselook as venal as possible.” ~ Scott Raab

cooperation, any pretense—the last shred of

any public appearance of cooperation or

productive negotiation has dropped away

completely now. Mayor Bloomberg has

essentially called out Larry Silverstein as a

profiteer who’s doomed to failure if he doesn’t

give us his rights as a leaseholder. But doomed

to failure only in the sense that he’ll default on

building out the entire site and walk away with

half a billion dollars. Up until this point,

there’s at least been the sense that people are

staking out positions with some eye to working

things through, where now it seems like the

showdown at high noon politically.

Speaking to the logistics behind this, can you give me

some idea of what it takes internally, in terms of phone

calls, in terms of politicking on your own part to sit

down and open up to you in any kind of frank way,

without having their spin doctors in the room. Or did

they have spin doctors in the room, and attorneys, saying

what you can and can’t write?

Raab: It’s never reached that level, but

partly because, on the one hand with City

Hall, they’ve just stonewalled. The Port

Authority [of New York and New Jersey] too.

They at best have played along with requests

for interviews by saying “We’ll get back to

you.” As far as City Hall and the Port

Authority go, there really is no “there” in

terms of cooperation. They just absolutely

refuse to sit down and talk. They’re not

interested—and this is true, to a large degree,

for the newspapers as well…but you have a

couple reporters, one for the New York Times,

this great reporter named David Dunlap, who I

believe gets sporadic access to the Port

Authority. The Port Authority doesn’t even

want anyone visiting the site. The Port

Authority doesn’t even address requests for

interviews, even when it’s conveyed through the

Silverstein people—their tenant and business

partner.

At City Hall, I’ve requested—I’ve sent

weeks’ [worth]—from a woman named


68

magazines

Jennifer Falk, a contact person at City Hall,

trying to arrange a sit-down not with the

Mayor himself, but with his deputy Dan

Doctoroff, his economic development guy.

Nothing, nada. This was post-Olympics; it was

pre-and post election. I’ve always been

accommodating, not confrontational about it,

but it’s consistently been a case of there

[being] no upside for the Port Authority or for

City Hall to sit down with me or really to give

anyone ongoing access. So most of what I’ve

been able to glean is either deeply sourced—

not people who are speaking freely, and who

aren’t necessarily privy to what’s going on

today—or people on the Silverstein side who

don’t use me as a conduit.

The best reporter—I’m not sure what

his contacts are at Silverstein but he’s

consistently calling it straight, but also making

it clear that he’s pro-Silverstein in this

particular affair. He’s a guy at the New York

Post, Steve Cuozzo—another guy with whom

I’ve never spoken but who does a great job of

parsing all this very directly.

They don’t see a benefit to speaking with Esquire? Or

there’s no upside to stonewalling you?

Raab: I think they figure either we’ll go

away or there’s nothing for them to gain by

speaking to us, because after all, there are no

heroes in this. I love Larry Silverstein as a

character; I admire certain qualities about him

and all that. But to me, you can’t look at

anyone involved in all this and say, “There’s

the knight coming to the rescue of the World

Trade Center rebuilding.” At this point,

everyone is trying to make everyone else look

as venal as possible.

Warren: It must also be said that, not so

much the Port Authority but the City doesn’t

actually have any power greater than public

relations and public relations assaults in the last

couple of days because Larry Silverstein owns

the lease on the place. Until it’s wrested from

his cold, dead hands, it’s his to rebuild. And I

guess that actually might happen!

Larry Silverstein is in his seventies, right? Is there any

concern about legacy, or wanting to get this done while

he’s still alive to see it? You would think that it’s so

much of a nightmare anyway that everyone would want

to work together. I mean, it’s called “The Freedom

Tower.” It’s not called “Larry Silverstein Place,” or

the “New York City…anything.” I’d imagine that for

a magazine of your size, it’s probably an odd thing to

not get access.

Warren: We’ve been telling the story instead


through the people who have actually been

doing something, which is Silverstein and

David Childs, his designer, and there have been

dynamic tensions—in the second installment of

the series—between them, even. That’s been

our interest: who are the prime

movers down there. The Port

Authority: sort of the phantom

agency. And the City, which

really has no direct authority and

is therefore kind of feckless. So

we’ve been actually focusing on,

who the hell is actually going to

do this? They’re the right focus

for our series.

Raab: In broad terms,

there are two levels—in terms of

getting it shaped up for a

magazine feature, and in looking

at it in a more global sense. This

includes the idea of legacy or

access. On one level, and the

most important one for us but

sometimes the hardest, is to be

consistent, partly because you get

sucked up into the nature of the

political process and its impact on

the building process.

But on the basic, most

importantly level is: on these sixteen acres, at

this point in American history, how the hell are

you going to build a super-tall skyscraper?

Literally, how are you going to build it, over a

working railroad, seventy feet below grade with


magazines

the Hudson River a couple hundred feet away.

That stuff—not just in terms of the design and

the architecture, but in terms of the building

and testing the bedrock—I’ve come to see is

inherently fascinating, and the people who do

it are great characters.

What are your feelings when you walk down to this

place? It sounded more like poetry than prose insofar as

you cover such a broad swath of emotions that it’s up to

the reader to come away with a mournful feeling or a

hopeful feeling, or shock and dismay or empathy at the

politics. What do you feel about your responsibility and

editorial role?

Raab: I think it’s a lot more

organic…There’s a shared passion and vision

and in this case, it’s a tough balance—and I’m

not talking about between writer and editor,

Mark and me.

I mean between the kind of cynicism—

I can’t think of a better word—that comes

along with looking at a story and realizing,

number one, the decisions that are going to be


CCm71

made, the negotiations that are taking place

about every subject from what material will

surround that huge concrete base to whose

going to build out Buildings 3 and 4. These

are battles being played behind closed doors

and the people that are going to make these

decisions that are going to impact all of our

lives, and our children and grandchildren.

We’re basically powerless to understand all the

nuances of—much less effect—the outcome.

That can take away from the poignancy or the

beauty or the hope that out of what happened

on September 11th, something meaningful in a

positive sense, something that really does

represent the best of the American spirit, that

that will emerge.

I think for Mark, but certainly for me,

it’s kind of like, “Wow, these politics, this is

fascinating!” The battles that are being

waged—we may not be privy to all the details,

we may not be able to affect the outcome, or

raise a cry or any of that. But it’s still

interesting as hell being a part of the narrative

structure of any one feature about this, and

can you do that and balance internally and on

the page—because I don’t think you can have

one without the other.

Can I come to terms emotionally; can I

maintain some of that sense of “Boy, this is a

very privileged spot on earth and I—and we,

as a magazine—are in a very privileged

position because we do get time down there,

and time with some of the players and a lot of

time with a few of the players. Can we

balance both?

In other words, can we talk about it in

terms of the—again, venal—the horrible

politics of it, the small-mindedness of it, the

scheming end of it? Can that coexist in the

world and on the page with, “Wow, this is a

hallowed spot; this is really a great thing that

working people—people who know things

about engineering, who know about drilling

core samples from bedrock, who know things

about putting steel together—

I’m not comfortable with the hero-

villain thing, but you’re reducing everyone to a

character anyway that you’re using, but can

you still maintain some semblance of passion

and hope. And I’m not saying it’s easy, but of

course: it’s a wonderful story.

I don’t think of myself as naïve, but I’m

not cynical about it in large, and I’m really

blessed to work with an editor who isn’t cynical

either and who keeps talking about the

privilege of doing the story and the importance

of keeping the focus on the immediacy of

what’s happening on the ground, not just

what’s happening in the offices on the higher

floors of certain buildings.


politics


CCm73

By Molly Klais

As of this writing, dozens of people

have been killed in Africa, Asia and the Middle

East, including at least twenty-four in Nigeria,

eleven in Libya, and ten in Afghanistan.

Embassies have been attacked and mosques

burned. eleven journalists in five countries will

likely be prosecuted for reprinting the

cartoons. Warnings have been issued for

Danish travelers to avoid Indonesia. Millions

have taken to the streets—violently or

peacefully—from London to Islamabad to

display their anger. Most incredible is the fact

that millions of people across national borders

and language barriers have all had the same

reaction; they are unified in their outrage.

How have mere drawings inflamed millions of

people in disparate places and caused them to

band together?

An exhibition on propaganda art

currently at Florida International University’s

Wolfsonian museum in Miami is an

appropriate backdrop for answering this

question. The exhibition, Revolutionary Tides:The Art of the Political Poster, 1914 – 1989,began at The Cantor Art Center at Stanford

University last autumn, and runs until July 30,

2006 in Miami at the Wolfsonian. Featured are

political posters and sculptures from multiple

Eastern and Western countries from the First

World War through the Cold War and up to the

fall of the Berlin Wall. The exhibition tracks

the development of a common visual lexicon

for casting the masses as global political

agents.

Over 100 works from the poster

collections of the Hoover Institution at

Stanford and The Wolfsonian, including rare

Iranian posters from the 1970s and posters in

divergent styles by John Heartfield and

Norman Rockwell, comprise the exhibition.

Organized into three main groupings

(“Figures,” “Numbers,” and “Symbols”), the

exhibition tracks more than a politics-based

visual language. The “Figures” portion

focuses on the graphic elements of the artwork,

whereas the “Numbers” segment looks at how

quantity is integral to political power during

the 20th century. “Symbols” brings together

the first two sections and elaborates further; it

investigates the dialogues between images of

the masses and related icons that represent the

group or political party.

LIKE MILLIONS, I AM SHOCKED BY THE ONGOING VIOLENCE PROTESTING THE

DANISH CARTOONS DEPICTING THE PROPHET MOHAMMED.

PROPAGANDA:PPPPoooosssstttteeeerrrrssss ,,,, CCCCaaaarrrrttttoooooooonnnnssss and and PPPPoooollll iiii tttt iiiiccccssss


74Citizen Culture

politics

The tradition of political posters and

street protests, developed over hundreds of

years and honed during the 20th century, helps

explain why Muslims have reacted so strongly

to the Danish cartoons: the cartoons have been

interpreted like propaganda posters. The

images are clear, words are kept to only the

most essential, and political issues are stripped

of their complexities. They use bold, attention

attracting colors and clear lines so that with

even a slight glance the viewer notices and

understands the message.

In the case of the Danish cartoons, the artists

have manipulated the symbol of the prophet

Mohammed, so dear to Muslims worldwide.

In the most-discussed cartoon, Mohammed

sports a bomb-shaped turban complete with

burning fuse. As with many of the posters in

the Wolfsonian exhibition, the message is clear

with or without text.

For instance, one American poster from

1942 depicts an anonymous “everyman” bent

over with back exposed. Above him, a large

hand holds a red branding iron shaped like a

swastika, surrounded by yellow flames. Two

words are printed in black block letters:

“Prevent This.” The simple image easily

conveys the message and the clear wording

drives it home. The Danish cartoons are just

as simple in their imagery, and even more

simply produced. They are, philologically,

propaganda. It is doubtful that the Danish

cartoonists and newspaper editors intended

this; instead, national and local leaders have

appropriated the images and used them to

catalyze national and local groups far outside

the borders of Denmark.

The cartoons play on widely held biases

and fears. They speak to an existing niche of

prejudice hidden within what has turned out to

be the far-reaching multitudes in Africa, Asia,

and Europe. Truth and justice are of secondary

concern, because the images’ shock factor

precludes further thought for many of the

outraged. As Michael Kimmelman of the NewYork Times pointed out, the Abu Ghraib

photographs did not provoke such widespread

street protests, and they documented

horrifically real torture. Those photographs

show mistreatment of living people with faces,

bodies, and families, not a physically

intangible prophet. Perhaps since the Abu

Ghraib photographs themselves increased

tensions amongst Muslims to the point where

the Danish cartoons sparked an explosive

release. Or perhaps the totemic power of such

a holy figure as Muhammed prevailed.

Totems, the central devotional symbols

of a culture, play an integral role in

propaganda. During war and social turmoil,

their role in mobilizing the public, suppressing

dissonance, and furnishing comfort increases

substantially. In such difficult times, people

are more susceptible to being affected—

positively or negatively—by familiar images.

Perhaps that is why the American military is


against photographing the flag-draped coffins

of deceased soldiers. The government

recognizes the power of such images, the

likelihood that they would greatly affect

numerous people and unite them in anger.

In the Revolutionary Tides exhibition

catalogue, curator Jeffrey T. Schnapp questions

whether “the age of the political poster [has]

passed with the rise of media that no longer

require mass assemblies in city streets and

public squares.” The cartoon episode has

proven that to be far from the truth. Images

can be disseminated at rapid rates via the

Internet and cell phones; such technologies

have fueled street protests against the cartoons.

The (now former) Italian ambassador to Syria

made T-shirts featuring the cartoons. He even

wore one on television, spreading the offensive

images to an even larger audience. And people

died because of it. In today’s world, with so

many surfaces on which to place images, the

political poster is far from outdated.

CARTOONS PLAY ON WIDELY HELD

BIASES AND FEARS. THEY SPEAK TO

AN EXISTING NICHE OF PREJUDICE.


Where there Once was aCurtain. . .Inside Post-Soviet Moldova

76Citizen Culture

portfolio

76Citizen Culture

Text and Photographs By Igor Finkel


CCm77

CCm77

Left: Old Soviet symbols are seen almost everywhere in the republic. This giant hammer and

sickle is located at the entrance of one of Transdniestria's largest manufacturing plants,

Electromash, in Tiraspol, the capitol of Pridnjestrovskaya Moldavskaya Respublika, also known as

PMR or Transdniestria.

Above: The Transdniestrian government building in Tiraspol. Unlike in many former Soviet

Republics the statue of Lenin is still standing tall and proud in PMR.


78Citizen Culture

portfolio


CCm79

Top left: War Memorial and Eternal Flame in Bendery, the only Transdniestran town on the

right, western bank of the river Nistru (Dniestr), which separates Moldova and PMR.

Bottom left: An employee of Electromash is doing his best to pose for a photograph at work.

Above: Not many people in Transdniestria can afford a car. Some commute the old fashion

way.


80Citizen Culture

portfolio

Top right: A view of the Noul Neamt Monastery in Chitcani from its bell tower. After the

collapse of the Soviet Union the gates of religious freedom were flung open and the people of

PMR restored old monasteries and churches, which were previously shut down by the

Communists.y.

Bottom right: The artist with Igor N. Smirnov, President of PMR, passionately discussing the

tensions between Moldova and Transdniestria during a meeting with Yakov Tsysin, one of the

original Transdniestrian separatists. President Smirnov assumed the office of President of the

Republic on 1 December 1991, a month before the official collapse of the Soviet Union.

Transdniestria has held three presidential elections since 1991, the results of which have not been

recognized by any country, other than itself.

Above: Transdniestrian “babushkas” waiting for a bus near one of the street markets in

Tiraspol. Sharing recipes and rumors, perfect end to a cold March dayway.


CCm81


82Citizen Culture

religion


CCm83

SOON AFTER MY MARRIAGE ENDED, my aged

mother suggested that I undergo the

upanayanam, the sacred thread ceremony. I

was speechless. Even the raggedy knowledge I

had of Hinduism is clear on the subject—the

upanayanam should be performed between the

ages of nine and thirteen and in no case later

than sixteen years. I was thirty-five and

divorced.

“We'll keep it private,” she said. “Just close

relatives.”

A picture popped up in my mind—cousins,

uncles and aunts, crowding about me during

the ceremony, whispering amongst themselves.

"Well, he has finally come back to his senses

after all these years out of our community."

(My ex was a Roman Catholic.)

Mother pressed on. “Just remember, unless

you wear the sacred thread, you won't be

allowed to perform the final rites in the event

of my, or your father's death. One of your

brothers-in-law would have to light the pyre.” I

didn't like it at all, the possibility of such a

deprivation, a brother-in-law taking my place

and reciting all the mantras for the ascension

of my parent's soul to His domain.

Father didn't say anything. Perhaps he

didn't care, or thought it all meaningless. He

was a journalist. Yes, he did perform the

obligatory poojas during festivals like Rama

Navami and Gokulashtami, but it was Mother

who exhibited strong religious habits—

attending discourses on Bhagavad Gita in

temple courtyards, watching godly shows on

TV and fasting on Fridays for our family's well

being.

After procrastinating for a month, I said I

would undergo the ceremony at home; only my

sisters and their husbands and children were to

be invited, no one else. Mother agreed. The

upanayanam was conducted on a nippy Sunday

morning. An old priest rattled off the verses as

if he were late for more important assignments.

Father sat through it all stoically; Mother

Spinning The Sacred Thread

By Ramesh Avadhani


84Citizen Culture

beamed with pride my sisters and their

husbands wore solemn expressions. And, I

confess, I felt just as Mother predicted—a

wholesome satisfaction; I had finally become a

pure Brahmin. I got to light my father's pyre

when he died two years back.

Some questions, though, remained at the

back of my mind. I had gone through the

upanayanam, but how much did I really

understand it? What did the sacred thread

symbolize? What was the essence of all the

rituals in Sanskrit?

Then I received an invitation from a friend

of my father, Mr Shivashankar Shastry, to

attend a mass upanayanam. His son was one of

the eight boys undertaking the ceremony.

The venue was the Badaganadu Sangha, a

society well known for its social welfare

activities in Bangalore. Shastry stood near the

gates, receiving guests. He was clad in a silk

dhoti and a kurta, both in cream color.

His dark face glowed with the pride of

one who has organized a momentous

occasion. I commented on it.

“Yes, this is a happy day for me,” he

said, with a broad smile. “My son was

initially reluctant, but I convinced him.”

“Nowadays, the young seem to have

lost interest in such ceremonies, haven't

they?” I said.

He shrugged. “Actually, it depends

on the elders. I believe in keeping alive

our tradition. So, naturally I would do

everything in my power to pass it on to my

children. Some people attribute the waning of

our traditional practices to modern lifestyles,

the impact of TV, the lure of Western culture

and so on. It's the way of the world, people say.

What can you do about it?”

“So, you don't agree?”

“Perhaps we can't live in isolation and keep

our culture pure, especially in these days of

electronic communications. But, even if you

indulge in aspects of other cultures, is it

difficult to set aside some time for our own

time-honored practices? Our ancients

formulated them after a lot of thought; how

can you dismiss them as irrelevant? What do

you lose in a few minutes of prayer and

meditation? On the contrary, you benefit a lot.

You can view life with a calmer perspective.

You will make fewer mistakes, less harm to

yourself.”

religion

A view of the mass upanayanam ceremony.


CCm85

“Don't you think elders are less

respected these days, which is why perhaps

the young are veering away on paths they

think more right, more lucrative?”

“My point is, if elders at home follow

such practices, there is a good chance that

youngsters would be influenced. Don't

forget, all sons have a secret desire to

imitate the father, to even better him. So,

the example has to be there to spark

emulation.”

“Where is your son? I want to talk to

him,” I said.

“Avinash is getting ready. You can sit with

us and watch the ceremony. If you have

questions, he would be happy to answer them.”

We looked at the huge pandal put up in the

quadrangle. The cloth tent, open on all four

sides, had an attractive design in red, yellow

and green. Beneath, parents attired in crisp

silks prepared their pooja items—fruits, silver,

pictures of Gods, incense, coconuts, mango

leaves, camphor, betel leaves and other things.

Two men swept the ground. Another man was

setting bricks in small squares, for the sacred

fire. Priests moved about, gesticulating. Their

heads were half shaven and their foreheads

marked by three horizontal lines in chalk - the

announcement of the Brahmin.

Shastry glanced at his watch. “The

ceremony will start in half an hour. Have some

coffee. The kitchen is at the right.”

After coffee, I met Gopalkrishna, of the

Badaganadu Society. A sales officer in a

government establishment, he works for the

Society on a voluntary basis. “The word

upanayanam means 'taking near,'" he told me.

"In ancient times, the father took the boy near

the guru for knowledge of the Vedas. Even

today the Vedas are the gateway to the

knowledge of the Absolute, the way to come

near His feet. So, the ceremony signals the

commencement of Brahmacharya, or

studentship.”

“And only Brahmins can undergo this?” I

asked.

“No. No. Even Khastriyas and Vaishyas

can, but not the Sudras. Unless the

upanayanam is done, the boy is considered to

be a Sudra, the lowest of the four classes. This

ceremony brings about the boy's second birth,

Avinash (center) watches as his parentspropitiate the sacred fire. The priest recitesVedic verses.


86Citizen Culture

'dvija,' the spiritual birth. He receives

his community's sanction to study the

sacred texts. But nowadays very few go

in that direction. What people

generally draw from the ceremony is

that the boy is formally given the

privileges of his caste. He is treated

with respect during auspicious

occasions. He has the approval to take

over as the head of the family in case

his father dies. He is authorized to seek

help from relatives in times of crises.

He can perform poojas. And he gets to

perform the final rites when his parents die.”

He went on to explain the preliminary

steps of the upanayanam. “A muhurta, or

auspicious hour, is selected during a particular

season. For a Brahmin the upanayanam is

performed in spring, for a Kshatriya in the

summer, and for a Vaishya in the autumn.

That is the general rule, but it is not rigidly

followed.”

On the morning of the ceremony, the boy

traditionally has a bath and, garbed only in a

loincloth, taken to the priest. The priest

accepts him as a disciple by offering him

another cloth to cover his upper body. The

priest then ties a girdle around the boy's waist.

This is to protect his loincloth, his chastity.

I went to meet Avinash to see if he was so

dressed. He was clad in a full-length silk dhoti

instead of the loincloth. However, he had a silk

sheet, the angostram, draped over his torso.

Round his neck hung two gold chains, shining

in the morning light. Lean and dark with large

eyes, his smooth face still showed the down of

raw youth on either cheek. He squatted cross-

legged in front of the square of bricks that was

now filled with earth. His father was seated to

his left, his mother to the right. Cousins and

aunts huddled behind. Alongside were the

seven other families with their vatus, boys

undergoing the ceremony. A quick glance

confirmed that Avinash, at fourteen, was the

youngest vatu. The others were easily between

twenty and thirty. Just as Gopalkrishna

lamented, they submitted to the ceremony only

a few days before their marriage.

I asked Avinash what he thought would be

the main benefit from this ceremony.

“I will be able to concentrate better on my

studies,” he said.

Brahmopadesam. The father secretly recites the powerful and sacredGayatri mantra to his son.

religion


CCm87

Did he have any reservations in

undergoing this ceremony?

“No.”

Surely, he had many friends who wore the

sacred thread?

“A few.”

What else did he think he could benefit

from the upanayanam?

“It will give me proper guidance. To walk

on the correct path.”

Would he perform the daily rituals of

prayers?

“Yes. My father does the

sandhyavandanam. So I too will do it—the

worship of the sun, the reciting of the sacred

Gayatri mantra.”

Just then the priest arrived, a young lean

man in a cotton dhoti and a sheet of white

cloth over his shoulders. He looked simple and

serious, the man of learning. He leafed

through a tattered volume, stopped at a page

and started reciting Vedic verses. He blessed

the fireplace with turmeric and vermilion

powders and sprinkled holy water on all the

articles brought by the parents. He dipped a

few mango leaves in the holy water and

sprinkled it on all of us as a symbolic

purification. Finally, he bade the father join

him in preparing the sacred fire by placing

twigs in the square of bricks and lighting the

wood with lit camphor. As the flames grew,

smoke issued forth, and we tried not to cough

or cry. The priest continued reciting from his

book without blinking or coughing. He then

delved in his little bag and brought out the

sacred thread.

Tradition dictates that the priest makes the

thread during the course of the ceremony.

Nowadays, however, the thread is made in

advance. As we watched, the priest handed the

thread to Shastry to place it over Avinash's

head. Then reciting mantras, the priest

signaled for the thread to be eased down so

that it hung across Avinash's chest from his left

shoulder. All of us blessed the boy by throwing

turmeric-coated rice on him.

What exactly is the sacred thread? It

comprises nine strands fashioned into three

long threads, each folded thrice over and

knotted. Each knot symbolizes respect to an

honorable ancestor. The length of the thread is

said to be ninety-six times the breadth of four

fingers of a man, which in turn equals his

height. Each finger represents one of the four

states of consciousness a man experiences:

waking, dreaming, dreamless sleep, and the

transcendental. The thread also represents the

three foremost qualities permeating the

universe: passion, representing Brahma the

Creator; reality, representing Vishnu the

Protector; and darkness, representing Shiva the

Destroyer. The three folds in each thread also

serve as a reminder to the boy of his three

everlasting debts—to the gods, to the gurus,

and to his forefathers.

Depending on the activity, the ancient


88Citizen Culture

texts prescribe that the thread be worn

differently. During an auspicious occasion like

a religious festival or a marriage, the thread is

worn in the normal manner--across the chest

from the left shoulder. For the funeral rites, the

thread is reversed—across the chest from the

right shoulder. During physical activity, the

thread should hang down from the neck like a

garland. When bathing or defecating, the

thread is to be looped securely around the left

ear.

The ceremony continued. The priest

recited mantras and asked Avinash to repeat

them after him. While doing so, Avinash

imitated the priest—touching the region of his

heart to symbolize harmony and sympathy

with all life; touching his ears, mouth and eyes,

to promise that hereafter he would listen, speak

and observe carefully and distinguish right

from wrong; touching the top of his head to

symbolize he would embrace good thoughts.

Avinash then stood upon a small slab of stone

to signify that he would imbibe its firmness. He

was then given a spoonful of curds, which he

ate after paying it obeisance. It signified that

hereafter he would keep his mind clear and

ingest what he was taught. Avinash was then

bid to revere the holy fire by circumambulating

it thrice. Next, he was taken outside the tent to

gaze up at the sun through a small aperture

formed by criss-crossing his fingers. This part

demonstrated that his quest for knowledge

should be like the light of the sun, all-

pervading and ever bright.

The climax of the ceremony was the

recitation one of the holiest of passages from

the Hindu scriptures—the Gayatri Mantra.

Literally, Gayatri means "that which protects the

one who chants." When chanted regularly and

with intense devotion, the sacred mantra helps

the chanter to realize his true self, the atman,

the knowledge of the Supreme Truth, called

the Brahman. The priest bid the father and the

son to cover their heads with a cloth and

repeat the mantra after him. This secretive

cloaking is to prevent unfit people from

overhearing the mantra. This part of the

ceremony is actually called Brahmopadesham, or

Brahma's counsel. It is only after learning the

mantra that the boy is accepted as dvija.

At this point, the priest asked Shastry to

put questions to Avinash. The boy had to

answer them all unvaryingly, as prescribed by

the sacred texts.

“Are you a brahmachari now?” asked the

father.

“Bhaadam,” replied the son. The word is

Sanskrit for “Yes.”

“Will you perform the sandhyavandanam

and all other ceremonies regularly?”

“Bhaadam.”

“Will you perform your prescribed duties

towards your parents?”

“Bhaadam.”

religion


“Will you respect your mother forever?”

“Bhaadam.”

“Will you even resort to begging to take

care of us in our old age?”

“Bhaadam.”

“Will you see that you don't sleep, at least

during the day, in the pursuit of all these

activities?”

“Bhaadam.”

“Will you concentrate on acquiring

wisdom and not fall prey to wrong activities?”

“Bhaadam.”

The ceremony concluded with the

pradakshina, the philosophy of begging.

Avinash was asked to live on the charity of

society, and later repay this debt by giving alms

to other students when he became a

householder. Avinash symbolically begged by

spreading out a piece of cloth. His refrain was

“bhavati bhiksham dehi”—"Whichever honorable

person is present, please give alms." We lined

up to give him handfuls of rice and blessed

him by applying the red tilak on his forehead.

The philosophy of begging holds that one

needs to imbibe humility and quell the ego, to

view all humanity, nay all life, as equal in His

eyes.

I bid farewell to Avinash and his parents. I

would like to think that my participation

brought them added joy, the way Shastry held

on to my hands even as I told him that I was

late for another appointment. As I came away

from the venue, I couldn't help but wonder:

how strange, even ironic, it was that everything

seemed to be happening in reverse gear in my

own life—upanayanam at age thirty-five, after a

divorce, and this interest in traditional beliefs

and practices at age forty-five. Surely, there's a

message (or two) there somewhere.

Shastry watches as his wife shares thesymbolic “last meal” with Avinash before his“departure” on a life as a Brahmacharya.

Interactivity:Get the most out of your

digital magazine.

Click here for a glossary offoreign terms:

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&90

Citizen Culture

Yeah Yeah YeahsShow Your Bones

Interscope/PolydorMarch 28

Karen O, the charismatic lead singer of

New York's Yeah Yeah Yeahs, channels

Chrisse Hynde, Debbie Harry, and Joan Jett

into her bluesy, erratic vocals; while

drummer Brian Chase and guitarist Nick

Zinner lay down heavy punk sounds with

enough flair to make Lou Reed smile. The

band's 2003 major label debut, Fever To Tell,

was one of the best records to come out in

recent memory. The word on the street is

true: sophomore album Show Your Bones does

indeed deviate from the sound of Fever To

Tell, but the result is an even stronger and

more mature effort. This band is just

beginning to flex their muscle. Standouts

include "Gold Lion", "Cheated Hearts" and

"Warrior."

BEFORE OPENING ACT THE ELECTED or

headliner Stars played even one note of their

sold out show at Chicago's renowned Metro,

my night was off to a fortuitous start. In a

neighborhood restaurant before the concert, I

found a laminated all-access pass for Stars that

someone had left behind. Now, if only the

show could live up to its billing. Los Angeles

based The Elected opened the night with their

70s inspired sunny pop music, with lead singer

(and Rilo Kiley guitarist) Blake Sennett belting

out “Do Me Good” with soulful gusto. The

band drew mainly from its new release Sun,

CCM ALBUM PICKS

By Garin Pirnia

Double BillStars and The Elected join forces in Chicago

for a Rockin' Show.

linesissue8mutawa 3/13/06 3:01 PM Page 90

&CCm

91

Sun, Sun; they soon went on to play “The Bank

and Trust” and an electrifying rendition of

“Not Going Home,” which Sennett dedicated

to Stars—it was the bands last night playing

together. “Fireflies in a Steel Mill” sounded

robust, and Sennett and band mates jammed

classic rock-style to end their set with a bang.

Between sets I tried out my pass. I

ventured into a green room area that contained

nothing more than several couches. This was

no raucous party—or even a place of high

energy—everyone seemed very friendly, almost

too “normal;” the personable Sennett and I

discussed the ridiculously cold Chicago winter

night, and right before Stars headed for the

stage, lead singer Torquil Campbell mentioned

that they are the only band to hit the stage five

minutes early. Scintillating stuff. The four band

members—Campbell, Amy Milan, Chris

Seligman and Evan Cranley (who also plays in

Broken Social Scene)—joined a violinist,

drummer and another guitarist on stage and

opened with the light “Theme from Stars,” a

track from an earlier EP. Their next song, “Set

LL Cool JTodd Smith

Def JamMarch 21

Don't be fooled playa. LL Cool J may be

pushing 40 years old, but he is still one of

the big reasons hip-hop and rap enjoy the

popularity that they do today. Forget the

Hollywood resume, but don't forget that LL

gave Def Jam Records their first bona fide

hit. In between the acting and ventures like

helping to create the fashion line FUBU, L's

put out some pretty great music. His 11th

studio album features collaborations with

Pharell Williams, Juelz Sanana, Teairra

Mari, Ginuwine, Mary J. Blige, 112, Mary

Mary Mary, Ryan Toby, Freeway, and some

chick named Jennifer Lopez. Standouts

include "Control Myself", "Best Dress" and

"What You Want."

MorrisseyRingleader Of The Tormentors

Sanctuary/AttackApril 4

Morrissey's publicist recently described his

new album as "the most full-on rock record

Morrissey's ever done. It's a balls-to-the-wall

rock record, not a slow one like the last

one." Excuse me, I laugh myself into tears

every time I read that. It seems hiring a

former Pearl Jam drummer has allowed the

Pope of Mope to express the inner hard

rocker hiding under that pompadour all

these years. Actually, the album is a lot

edgier than some of the Mozfather's

listsissue8mutawa 3/13/06 3:01 PM Page 91

92Citizen Culture

Yourself on Fire,” from their third album

(which bears the same excellent name), was

much more upbeat and allowed the show to

ascend. The set alternated between placid and

melodic pop songs and louder fare drawn from

all three of their albums. In Stars, every

member was adept, as usual, at their

instruments. Midway through the performance,

they dedicated a cover of “Hungry Heart” to

the Elected. Later on, they played one of their

saddest songs, “Your Ex-Lover is Dead,” with

Milan's cherubic voice adding emotional

intensity. On the last song before the encore,

The Elected joined Stars on stage to say

goodbye. Stars returned for two more songs,

including the infectious “Elevator Love Song”

and “Calendar Girl.” On the latter, Campbell's

voice soared on the lyric “I'm alive” and the

attentive, indie-yuppie crowd screamed in

corresponding excitement. One of the few

noticeable absences from Stars' twenty-song set

was the magnificent “Look Up.” Stars is a

band that sounds better live, especially with two

equally talented vocalists on display. I'm not

sure that the concert lived up to my pre-show

excitement, and the backstage treatment was

anything but. Still, I haven't stopped listening

to “Calendar Girl” and some of the other Stars

tracks-and that means that I'll be there next

time they swing through Chicago, front and

center.

The MetroChicago, ILFeb. 17th, 2006

previous efforts, it's just that the subject

matter hasn't changed at all. Morrissey is

still singing about the same things he sang

about 15 years ago. Thank goodness he has

those beautiful pipes and that gorgeous

command of language to fall back on .

Standouts include "You Have Killed Me,"

"The Youngest Was The Most Loved" and

"Dear God Please Help Me.”

The Flaming LipsAt War With The Mystics

Warner BrothersApril 4

The Flaming Lips have always been

Alternative pioneers, and if you've never

seen them perform live, you really need to

get your priorities in order. Their live show

can at times feature complex lighting

displays, puppets, and even people in

animal mascot suits. Oh, and their music is

really good too. Largely ignored in the

1990s, the Lips have enjoyed recent success,

scoring songs on soundtracks to movies like

Austin Powers and Wedding Crashers, and even

landing a Coca-Cola commercial. At War

With The Mystics is a lot more guitar-


CCm93

oriented than their last record, Yoshimi Battles

The Pink Robots, which really started to put

the band in the mainstream. Regardless,

The Flaming Lips are masters of all things

sonic-and always worth checking out.

Standouts include "The Yeah Yeah Yeah

Song", "Mr. Ambulance Driver" and "The

W.A.N.D."

Jack De Voss

BrickFocus Features

March 31

Joseph Gordon-Levitt is a force to be

reckoned with. See last year's

underappreciated Mysterious Skin if you don't

believe us. This nifty film noir from first-

time director Rian Johnson stars Levitt as a

CCM FILM PICKS

Brick's Emilie de Ravin and Joseph Gordon-Levittshare some face-time.

&listslines

Much More Than LuckAn All-Star Cast Delivers Bite to

This Crime Thriller

THERE AREN'T MANY SURETIES about Lucky

Number Slevin, but one is that it is terribly titled.

Another is that the film is one slick piece of

entertainment. Josh Hartnett stars as Slevin,

the sarcastic slacker at the center of director

Paul McGuigan's mistaken-identity crime film.

Shortly after being mugged, Slevin is abducted

from his friend Nick's apartment by a pair of

inept henchmen who work for a local crime

lord named The Boss. The Boss (Morgan

Freeman) informs 'Nick' that he has three days

to pay back $96,000 dollars, and that he'll have

to murder the gay son of The Boss's arch

nemesis The Rabbi (Ben Kingsley) if he can't

pay off his debt in time. Ironically, both of the

warring gangsters rule their crime syndicates

from the safe confines of their penthouse

apartments across the street from one another.

Stanley Tucci and Lucy Liu costar; Tucci as a

cop who wants to catch Slevin and Liu as a

coroner who catches Slevin's eye.

From the opening beats of J. Ralph's

moody score during its visually dynamic

opening title sequence, Lucky Number Slevin

proves itself as a stylish, worthy entry in the

crime genre. McGuigan and screenwriter Jason

Smilovic waste no time, piling up four bodies in

the first five minutes as the film catches us up

on its significant back-story, which concerns a

By Jeff Sneider


high school student investigating a peer's

murder. Winner of the Grand Jury Prize at

Sundance, this is one mystery not to miss.

V For VendettaWarner Bros.

March 17

The Wachowski Brothers are back…sort of.

The eccentric directing duo are credited

with only writing and producing this

adaptation of Alan Moore's graphic novel,

leaving the responsibility of yelling “Cut!”

to long-time first assistant director James

McTeigue. Originally scheduled for release

last November, the controversial story

follows V (Hugo Weaving), a political

terrorist who dares to question his own

fascist government, and Edie (Natalie

Portman), a woman he recruits to help him.

The actress famously shaved her head for

the role, and her commitment pays off.

Antiheroes have never been so heroic.

Failure to LaunchParamount

March 10

A romantic comedy is all about the

characters and fortunately, Matthew

McConaughey and Sarah Jessica Parker are

as likable as it gets. The attractive pair

couldn't be more perfectly cast as a slacker

who still lives at home with his parents and

the woman who has to lure him out of the

house. Surprisingly, the film suffered its own

failure to launch when it was yanked from

an original Valentine's Day-ish release date.

hot racing tip that winds up getting one man

and his family killed. Aside from that initial

setup, the only thing that's clear in this darkly

comic piece of film noir is that nothing is what

it seems. That much is established in an early

scene where a mysterious wheelchair-bound

gentleman named Smith (Bruce Willis) explains

the Kansas City Shuffle to an anonymous

young man at an airport.

Smilovic's tricky screenplay holds many

aces up its sleeve, and the dialogue snaps and

pops with clever one-liners. You'll understand

by the end why catchy snippets of dialogue like

the "Shmu" and the "Tall Knock" are lines that

successful attracted an ensemble cast of Oscar-

winners and A-listers; Smilovic's witty writing

allows the experienced cast to really bite into

their roles. McGuigan and cinematographer

Peter Sova take advantage of the screenplay's

time-bending narrative, and the film's constant

flashbacks are effectively gritty. During the last

third of the film things really kick into high

gear, and the mood grows palpably darker.

Willis' supporting role suits him just fine

and allows him the chance to retain his

character's air of mystery and dry sense of

humor. Freeman and Kingsley are equally

mesmerizing in their scenery-chewing roles as

rival gangsters, each rife with their own set of

idiosyncrasies. Surprisingly however, it's

Hartnett who holds the film together. Never

entirely above suspicion, Slevin is the ultimate

wiseass. He plays the straight man so straight

and holds his cards so close to his chest that his

94Citizen Culture


CCm95

TsotsiMiramax

February 24

Stories about criminals and their redemption

are nothing new, but writer/director Gavin

Hood's gritty adaptation of acclaimed South

African writer Athol Fugard's novel is

powerful stuff. Talented newcomer Presley

Chweneyagae stars as “Tsotsi” (a slang term

meaning black urban criminal), a thug

whose life changes when he steals a car—

and quickly finds a baby in the back seat.

The South African “Kwaito” soundtrack

and “Tsotsi-Taal” street language lends

authenticity to the film, and the visceral

ghetto setting of the Johannesburg township

Soweto is top notch. Official nomination in

the Academy Awards Foreign Language

Film Category.

The Hills Have EyesFox Searchlight

March 10

Fresh off the acclaimed gore-fest High

Tension, director Alexander Aja dares to step

into the big shoes left behind by Wes

Craven. The master's 1977 original found an

unfortunate family getting stuck in the

middle of a desert occupied by cannibalistic

Presley Chweneyagae as thug with a heart Tsotsi.

disaffected slacker charm makes us

underestimate him. Although the story contains

some minor plot holes and is a little too

predictable at times, it genuinely had me on

more than one occasion. The filmmakers'

biggest flaw is insisting on the romance subplot

between Slevin and Liu's character, who are

little more than strangers. Their relationship

interrupts the narrative action, even if it's hard

to keep such a beautiful actress off screen.

Unfortunately, there's no room for her in the

story.

Lucky Number Slevin is a sharp thriller that

takes advantage of a top-notch cast, an above-

average connect-the-dots plot, and comic relief

interspersed between brief but brutal scenes of

violence. It's an accessible genre picture that

has all of the elements audiences expect and

enjoy, with a few surprises mixed in, courtesy of

Smilovic's smart script. The Weinstein

Company may well have its first bonafide hit

on its hands, because Lucky Number Slevin is a

sure bet for a fun time at the movies.

Lucky Number SlevinThe Weinstein CompanyMarch 31


96Citizen Culture

EAT THE DOCUMENT BEGINS ON September 15,

1972, as twenty-two-year-old Mary Whittaker

sits alone in a motel room, gazing absently at

the TV. Mary is freshly showered. She has just

dyed her mousy-colored hair to blond. She's

trying to settle on a new name for herself.

Mary chooses “Caroline,” sealing the

transformation from her old life as a suburban

subversive activist to her new life as a fugitive

living underground in “smeary obscurity” and

“isolation.”

Caroline wonders about the fate of Bobby

DeSoto, her boyfriend and fellow subverter.

After their violent demonstration against

corporate America and its tacit manufacture of

noxious gases for military use in Vietnam,

Bobby went underground, too. “I'll get in

touch. I'll find you... when and if things [cool]

down,” Caroline remembers Bobby saying

before they separated.

Flash forward twenty-six years. It's 1998.

Fifteen-year-old Jason—a judicious aficionado

of 1960s and 1970s rock-and-rollis in his

bedroom listening to the Beach Boys' Smile. His

door is open. His mother stands in the

doorway, smiling. She is not mindful of Jason;

instead, she's pausing to listen to the music of

her generation. Jason's mother is Caroline, and

mutants, and horror fans will be pleased to

know that the story has been faithfully

updated. It's yet another remake, but this

one, featuring “Lost” star Emile de Ravin,

packs a punch.

Thank You For SmokingFox Searchlight

March 17

This satire of the cigarette industry stars

Aaron Eckhart as a talking head who gets

paid to make up excuses for why his

company kills hundreds of thousands each

year. The film was a hit at Sundance and co-

stars Mario Bello and Anchorman's David

Koechner as alcohol and tobacco reps, as

well as Rob Lowe and Katie Holmes. First-

time director Jason Reitman has assembled

an impressive cast for this adaptation of

Christopher Buckley's best-selling novel.

Jeff Sneider with TheoMazumdar

By Amy O’Loughlin

&listslines

Counterculture,Anyone?Dana Spiotta's New Novel Traces the Lives of

Intertwined Political Activists Across Decades

Eat the

Document

Dana Spiotta

Scribner


CCm97

they live in the suburbs of Seattle. Caroline has

never heard from Bobby.

Fifty-year-old Nash Davis is a loner who

exists “off the grid”—no telephone, bank

account, or health insurance. He manages

Prairie Fire Books, an eclectic emporium which

carries fringe texts that advocate “resisting

American hegemony... and embracing rebellion

and nonconformity of any stripe.” Hangers-on

at this Seattle bookstore include middle-

twenties “misfits,” “scragglers,” and pseudo-

protestors who organize into “collectives and

fronts and miniarmies.” The Kill the Street

Puppets Project, an “antipuppet guerilla

theater group,” is one such collective; the

Brand and Logo Devaluation Front is another.

Nash allows them to hold meetings at Prairie

Fire, even though he finds most of the

participants smug, entitled, and arbitrary.

However, there is Miranda Diaz. She doesn't

quite fit in with the hard-edged, “vapor-thin”

girls who frequent Prairie Fire. She has trouble

concealing her true-heart optimism that the

world can be a better place if people tried

harder. Nash picks up on Miranda's vibe. He

likes what he senses.

Author Dana Spiotta (Lightening Field, 2001)

produces an effective atmosphere of

counterculture resistance, “agitprop,” and

attitudinized activism in this multifaceted and

far-reaching novel. Her chapters move skillfully

back and forth from decade to decade and

character to character. Spiotta crafts a

pervasive tension that keeps you second-

guessing these characters and entices you to

wonder if, how, or when they all might cross

paths. And that's what works best in Eat the

Document: Spiotta's finely constructed chapters

build one upon the other, and as they reveal

more and more about these constrained

characters they race you toward a rousing

conclusion. Other bright spots include Spiotta's

commanding narrative of Caroline's twenty-

eight years underground and Jason's authentic

first-person voice.

The central problem with Eat the Document

is that it's often overly dialectical. While the

characters', especially the Prairie Fire gang's,

espousals and refutations are provocative and

smart—Spiotta comprehends antiestablishment

alternative culture and she details its doctrines,

dress, expressions, and thinking with mastery—

eventually their exchanges get wearisome.

These worldview polemics do not blemish the

novel's insight or worth, but they do distract.

Instead of concentrating on their significance,

you rush through them, eager to return to

Spiotta's precise and graceful rendering of

despair, loneliness, adaptation, and what it

costs to live life “forever at the margins.”

The novel's title derives from Bob Dylan's

1972 documentary film Eat the Document, which

chronicles his 1966 European tour, when he

transformed himself from an acoustic folk

singer to a rock-and-roll musician. Spiotta's

choice is apt; self-alteration and identity are at

the heart of this flawed but gratifying,

distinctive novel.


98

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PHOTO & ART CREDITS

WHAT’SCareers & Education

Cover: istockphoto; TOC: Austin: courtesy of Austin Convention and Visitors Bureau; p.6: John Iton/CCM;p.14: Jocelyn Lin/istockphoto; p. 18-24: Courtesy of David Irving/FocalPoint; p. 41: SamanthaGrandy/istockphoto; p. 46: Alvaro Arroyo/istockphoto; p. 50: Dan Herron; p. 54-57: istockphoto; p. 58: AnthonyBrennan; p. 61: Jesse Hamilton, courtesy of Samuel Goldwyn Films & Sony Pictures Releasing International; p.64-68: John Iton/CCM; p. 69-70: Courtesy, Esquire magazine; p. 72: All images courtesy The Mitchell Wolfson,Jr. Collection at the Wolfsonian-Florida International University, Miami Beach, Florida; p. 82-89: Courtesy ofRamesh Avadhani; p. 98: istockphoto (2).

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EXCLUSIVE NEW FICTIONMutaMuta wwwwa (para (part twt two):o):Can technology keep youfaithful? Should it? �

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Citizen Culture Issue #8