PM Pick

Lifestyles of the Rich and Tenured?: The Black Public Intellectual Under Siege

Mark Anthony Neal

. . . (T)o raise questions about black faculty who are 'intimidated' by gatekeepers within black institutions is to risk access to and influence within those very institutions. No politically astute black mainstream politician is willing to do that.

SUNY-Albany Professor Mark Anthony Neal examines the Black Public Intellectuals of the 1990s as well as the "Post-Soul Intelligentsia" in his new book Soul Babies: Black Popular Culture and the Post-Soul Aesthetic, just published by Routledge.

During the opening weeks of the new year, there was considerable attention paid to the cohort of black public intellectuals who reside in the "ivoriest" of Ivory Towers at Harvard University. In the case of Randall Kennedy, such attention was planned as the legal scholar began to promote his new book, Nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word. Kennedy's book offered a unique opportunity for the larger culture to seriously examine the most prominent racial epithet in American history, and perhaps begin a real discussion about the white supremacist practices that the word symbolically shorthands, not the vulgarity of the word itself.

But Kennedy's book was overshadowed — trumped, really — by a very public dispute between Harvard's President, Lawrence Summer, and the "pre-eminent" Black Public Intellectual, Cornel West. According to Senior faculty members at the University and sources close to West, in an October meeting with West, Summers "chided" West for recording a "rap" CD, for his prominent role in Al Sharpton's likely Presidential bid in 2004, for his overly accessible scholarly work, and for grade inflation. In Summers's defense, he had similar "critical" discussions with other Harvard University faculty, particularly with regards to grade inflation. But Summers' purported comments and the various schools of response to the controversy raise troubling questions about general perceptions of black intellectual production, the increasing gaps-real or perceived-between elite black intellectuals and the larger black public whom they "speak" for, and the often bankrupt strategies of mainstream Civil Rights activists and sycophantic black conservative commentators alike.

Cornel West began his scholarly career a little more than 20 years ago as a self-defined "post-modern" Marxist black philosopher. At that time there was literally no public language to support even the idea of Cornel West and the generation of black "post-structuralist" and feminist literary and cultural critics and theorist that emerged during the late 1970s and 1980s. Names like the late Barbara Christian, Houston Baker, Jr., Hortense Spillers, and Henry Louis (Skip) Gates, Jr. were simply not part of the public lexicon, particularly in relation to the ebbs and flows of everyday black life in America.

Nevertheless many of these figures would emerge as powerful forces within the American Academy, with Gates emerging as the prominent one with his groundbreaking study, The Signifying Monkey, published in 1988. During this period, West published three philosophical tomes: Prophecy Deliverance: An Afro-American Revolutionary Christianity (1989), The American Evasion of Philosophy: A Genealogy of Pragmatism (1990), and The Ethical Dimensions of Marxist Thought (1991). He also published Prophetic Fragments (1988), a collection of short essays that more easily distilled West's idea to a prophetic democratic vision. Scholarly in his work, West's real power came from his lay-preacher style that was part Emersonian, (DuBoisian) and Franklin-ian (as in Rev. CL, Aretha Franklin's father). As West admitted in an 1990 interview with Bill Moyers (A World of Ideas), he believed that the "vocation of the intellectual as trying to turn easy answers into critical questions and putting those critical questions to people with power." (Prophetic Reflections, 103) On the brink of intellectual stardom, West was described by Robert Boyton (who would later write an influential essay on the Black Public Intellectual for Atlantic Monthly) as bringing "religious zeal to intellectual issues" and making the "life of the mind exciting." (New York Times Magazine, Sept. 15, 1991)

West's initial breakthrough to popular audiences came with Breaking Bread: Insurgent Black intellectual Life (1991), his collaborative "conversation" with bell hooks that was published by South End Press in 1992. hooks already had a rather prolific career, specializing in presenting "popular" black feminist theory and criticism to "alternative" audiences in books like Ain't I A Woman (1981) and Talking Back: Thinking Feminist, Thinking Black (1989) Arguably at the time of their collaboration, hooks was the more visible of the two. Breaking Bread primed West for the widespread acceptance of Race Matters (Beacon Press, 1993), a collection of very accessible essays on race and African-American culture. The book officially ushered in the era of the Black Public Intellectual. Nattily dressed in Navy three-piece suits and even nattier (not nappier) afro, West became the poster boy for generation of black scholars, including the aforementioned Gates and hooks and others such as Michael Eric Dyson, Patricia Williams (who writes consistently brilliant articles for The Nation), Todd Boyd [the forthcoming The New H.N.I.C.: the Death of Civil Rights and the Reign of Hip-Hop), and Tricia Rose (author of the groundbreaking book on hip-hop, Black Noise: Rap Music and Black Culture in Contemporary America (1994)], who seeming sole purpose for mainstream (literate) white America was to interpret the signs and sounds of hip-hop, black youth culture, the OJ Simpson trial (which made Dyson a star), the Million Man March, and the murders of Tupac Shakur and The Notorious B.I.G. (Biggie Smalls/Christopher Wallace). While this generation of black public intellectuals has been alternately celebrated and scorned, they were not a "new" phenomenon, as some argued in the mid-1990s, but rather the latest of a long tradition of Black Public Intellectuals that included seminal figures such as Ida B. Wells Barnett, W.E.B. DuBois, and the legendary C.L.R. James.

At the time of Race Matters' publication, West was directing the Afro-American Studies program at Princeton. By 1996, West was firmly ensconced as a member of the "Dream Team", the collection of black scholars that comprise the faculty of the W.E.B. DuBois Institute for Afro-American Research. This group now includes folks like Gates, who runs the institute, West, sociologist William Julius Wilson (The Truly Disadvantaged, 1987), Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham, and recent additions Michael Dawson and noted post-colonialist, Homi Bhabba. The DuBois institute is synonymous with the field of African-American studies; often eclipsing the profile of equally important programs/department like those at Yale, NYU, Duke, Berkeley, Columbia, and Brown. According to Jacqueline Trescott in a 1996 article on the Institute, the "Dream Team" was "in terms of critical mass . . . the most prestigious group of black intellectuals since Thurgood Marshall gathered his team three decades ago" in preparation for Brown vs. Board of Education. (Washington Post 2.26.96) In the article, Black Issues in Higher Education publisher, Frank Matthews, admitted that the stakes were high: "We have the right to expect something from them in terms of solutions . . . some answers to the very vexing problems we have — from freedom of speech and rap music to how do we deal with AIDs crisis. We have to expect more than business than usual." (Washington Post, 2.26.96) While the Institute has fallen short of such lofty expectations —how can any individual department be expected to change the world? — its high visibility has had, generally speaking, a positive impact on the field of African-American Studies. While Gates wields real "gatekeeper" power within African-American Studies, it is West who has been the most visible embodiment of the DuBois Institute and African American Studies.

It is against this back drop that Lawrence Summers, former Treasury Secretary in the Clinton Administration and brand new President of Harvard University, sat down with West in October of last year. Though the exact details of the meeting remain somewhat vague it is clear, as reported initially in The Boston Globe (12.22.01), that Summers took some issue with the grade inflation in West's intro class in African-American Studies (apparently a wide spread problem at the University), his proclivity for producing books for general non-scholarly audiences (Summers apparently had only read Race Matters), and his recording of Sketches of My Culture, a spoken-word CD that has been mistakenly defined (repeatedly) as a "Rap" CD. Summers apparently also chided West for heading Al Sharpton's presidential exploratory committee, though there is some dispute about this aspect of their conversation. After the story broke in late December, the reactions were swift. The "attack" on West inflated with the larger issue of Harvard's commitment to Affirmative Action leading to the battling Reverends Sharpton and Jackson (in mortal combat over leadership of the mainstream Civil Right Movement) to enter the fray.

In a phone conversation with The Boston Globe, Jackson asserted that the "tension at Harvard is having an impact across the country . . . It is America's flagship university. And the tension at Harvard over the equivocation or lack of clarity about affirmative action and inclusion is very disturbing." (Boston Globe, 12.31.01) In a separate conversation with the same paper, Sharpton stated that he didn't want to see faculty members "intimidated" (Boston Globe 1.1.02) Given the myriad of crises faced by people of African Descent in the United Sates, crises such as police brutality, racial profiling, the erosion of civil liberties, lack of meaningful health care and a near state of economic depression in some black communities, particularly after "9/11", the decision of Sharpton and Jackson to use whatever political and social capital they possess to mediate a dispute between an elite Ivy League President and a six-figure elite Black Public Intellectual, seems particularly problematic. One has to wonder if either would extend the same energy in support of black faculty and staff at Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs), who, depending upon the institution, are treated as little more than chattel. But to raise questions about black faculty who are "intimidated" by gatekeepers within black institutions is to risk access to and influence within those very institutions. No politically astute black mainstream politician is willing to do that.

In a another questionable response, The Tom Joyner in Morning Show initially reported that Harvard was attempting to "fire" Cornel West. West is, of course, a tenured University Professor at Harvard (one of 14 at the institution), who short of being convicted for a role in the 9/11 attacks, is not likely to be "fired" by the institution, as is the case with most tenured professors. The mistake on Joyner's part speaks to the fact that the general public has very little understanding of the ebbs and flows of academic life, though that didn't keep the show from mounting one of their famous "air-advocacy" campaigns in support of West. The "air advocacy" campaigns (the hosts urge listeners to fax and e-mail complaints/protests), which are largely the brain-child of commentator and National Public Radio (NPR) host Tavis Smiley, are a mixed bag. On the one hand, they have been instrumental in assisting flood victims in North Carolina and pushing through of the appointment of Roger Gregory to the Federal Courts. On the other hand, the campaigns have been bogged down in symbolic minutiae such as protesting the flying of the confederate flag in South Carolina (as opposed to actually helping to address the economic and educational inequities in the state). Accordingly, it was on the debut edition of Smiley's NPR show in January, that West first spoke publicly about the fray, acknowledging that he doesn't "tolerate . . . disrespect, being dishonored and being devalued." (Washington Post, 1.7.02) Again, one has to wonder that if this was another era, and Smiley and Joyner were positioned as they are now, whether that would had extended such forums to the Institute's namesake, W.E.B. DuBois, when the influential black intellectual — the template for the tradition, really — was carted out in front of McCarthy's House Un-American Committee (HUAC) in the early 1950s and asked to renounce his ties to radicalism. The mainstream NAACP, which DuBois helped to create, had cut their ties with him in the late 1940s.

The efforts to rally around Cornel West are likely unprecedented in the history of the black intelligentsia in the United States, with only the early 1990s controversies surrounding the suspect Afrocentric "scholar", Leonard Jeffries, coming close. The sudden attention towards the Black Intelligentsia raised consciousness among the black masses about the role of black intellectuals in their lives. During an extraordinary three-hour call-in program broadcast on C-Span 2 in early January, West fielded a wide array of questions about himself and the field of African-American Studies. One caller raised the question as to why scholars such as West and others teach at elite "white" institutions instead of teaching at Historically Black Universities and Colleges (HBCUs). West did what so many of us know as the post-structuralist two-step (I've done it more than a few times), with a lot of references to "teaching loads", "research budgets", and "financial rewards". Of course, many of these HBCUs, especially elite institutions like Howard, Hampton, Spelman, Morehouse, and Fisk, were largely responsible for nurturing most of the black intelligentsia well into the 1980s.

With the "integrating" of traditionally "white" universities and colleges post-1970, there has effectively been a brain drain of the best and brightest black thinkers. They have been effectively integrated out of black institutions. Still, more than half of the black Ph.D.s produced in the United States are products of HBCUs, and those Ph.D.s most often pursue careers at HBCUs. In some cases, those faculty members are forced into a state of peonage, where they teach 8 and 10 course loads (in comparison, most faculty at public and private research institutions teach 2-4 courses a year), leaving them unable to become productive scholars and thus making them less marketable to other institutions. This reality has broader implications beyond HBCUs when the experiences of community college faculty and adjunct faculty are more closely examined. There is effectively a two-tier system of higher education, where students and faculty at elite research institutions simply derive greater rewards than those at non-research (teaching) and community colleges. Courtland Milloy makes such a point in his biting commentary about the lack of "elite" black intellectuals in Washington, DC, as he opines that the reason "Gates and West give for considering leaving Harvard is that they don't always feel respected. However, the discomfort they are experiencing ought to serve as a reminder of how much worse it must be for blacks who have no power to leverage." (Washington Post, 1.09.02)

Part of the leverage that West possesses is a long standing offer to return to Princeton. Part of the public discourse surrounding his flap with Summers has been this threat by West and fellow dream-teamers, Gates and K. Anthony Appiah, to leave Harvard. Although Gates does not have a formal offer from Princeton, Appiah has just recently accepted a new position at Harvard, with increasing speculation that West will follow suit. This is part of the academic star system: elite scholars are recruited from one elite institution to another all of the time, and the dream team is no different. In her scathing critique of Gates in the Village Voice (1.16.02), Thulani Davis suggests that the controversy was little more than a "power play" on the part of West to help him secure a more lucrative deal from Harvard. While such tactics are not unusual (some elite scholars pursue offers from other institutions for just that reason), Davis notes that in this instance, West's power moves may create a "backlash for academics, black and white, in African American Studies all over the country." She adds that "These thousands of scholars, some doing brilliant and unheralded work, have struggled for respectability for years, and they don't need the kind of fallout that comes when privileged men call the race troops to arms for no greater reason than to enhance their already cushy careers." In Davis's essay, NYU historian Robin D.G. Kelley [Race Rebels (1994) and Yo Mama's Disfunktional (1997)] raises the question that "if the president of Harvard could bring the country's top Afro-American department down a notch, I can't imagine what deans might do at other institutions where there is no respect for what we do." (Village Voice, 1.16.02)

Barely two weeks after The Boston Globe first broke the story, Summers apologized for the controversy, affirming his commitment to "create an ever more open and inclusive environment that draws on the widest possible range of talents." (Washington Post, 1.3.02) Summers was, of course, within his right to try and hold his faculty accountable — college and university Presidents regularly do this — but this particular incident with West is unique because of West's profile and the historic devaluation of black intellectual thought (and more explicitly, the devaluation of the intellectual capabilities of people of African descent) and more recently, a general skepticism about the rigor and significance of African-American Studies and its various incarnations (Black Studies/Africana Studies). But there was a general consensus, especially among right-leaning commentators, that Summers had capitulated to the "evil" forces of white liberal guilt, political correctness, black victimology, and old-school race pimping. In this regard, the very backlash that Davis and Kelley suggested, became real-time narratives in press organs like National Review, The Wall Street Journal and even the "liberal" New York Times Magazine. Roger Kimball, for instance, made such a point in National Review, where he argued that Summers "learned . . . that if he dares to criticize black professors at Harvard, he will face the wrath of The [New York] Times, Jesse Jackson, and the whole steamroller smear machine of racialist political correctness . . . It is the text book of liberal intimidation at work." (National Review, 1.28.02)

Post-apology commentary about the West-Summers fray ranged from public examinations of West's income to public lectures (Rob Dreher in National Review, 1.1.02) and general perceptions that West, et al, was "crying wolf". In the very New York Times Magazine that Kimball accused of liberal bias, Kate Zernike wrote an article on the controversy titled, "Can Crying Race Be Crying Wolf?". In the Sunday Times (London), Andrew Sullivan derisively titled his commentary on the flap, "When Being Black is an Excuse for Taking the World for a Ride". In the article, Sullivan states that West is "phenomenally rich . . . it's hard to argue that he is a victim of the racist, sexist, homophobic, bourgeois elites he so often invokes and condemns." The basic premises of both articles are that West economic status supercedes not only his feelings of insult in the aftermath of Summer's comments, but that it also bankrupts, in their minds, his more legitimate disgust at racial, sexist, and queer discrimination and economic exploitation. Both essays exhibited a profound ignorance of the black intellectual traditions in general and more specifically, a fundamental understanding of the field of African-American Studies.

Nowhere was such ignorance more profound than in National Review contributing editor John Derbyshire's ridiculous article, "Af-Am Nonsense." (National Review, 1.11.02) Early in the article, Derbyshire admits suggesting that he was a "modest authority" on the subject of the dispute, because he "once read a book by Cornel West . . . standing in the aisle in one of the bookstores on midtown Fifth Avenue in New York." He adds that "Race Matters was a small book, I am a fast reader, and I won't swear that I read every word. I read enough, though, to know that the book was irredeemably awful . . . it was so badly written and constructed that you couldn't tell what it was trying to say." (National Review, 1.11.02) The reality that he might have been ignorant of the field of African-American studies is lost on Derbyshire, who felt he could and should legitimately critique a book that he skimmed while standing in line at a Barnes and Noble store, a book written by a scholar in a field of study that he has no real knowledge of. (I guess we can call this "white privilege", the same thing that Summers articulated when he critiqued West for a CD Summers hadn't listened to.) Derbyshire in fact latter admits that, "like most non-blacks", he "always thought that 'Afro-American Studies' is a pseudo-discipline, invented by guilty white liberals as a way of keeping black intellectuals out of trouble and giving the a shot at holding professorships at elite institutions without having to prove themselves in anything really difficult." (National Review, 1.11.02) It is exactly this kind of uninformed and condescending BS that West was reacting to in the first place.

In Breaking Bread, West writes that the "central task of postmodern Black intellectuals is to stimulate, hasten, and enable alternative perceptions and practices by dislodging prevailing discourses and powers. This can be done only by intense intellectual work and engaged insurgent praxis." (145) West's quote has effectively became a mantra for a whole generation of black intellectuals, particularly those who work in the fields of Cultural Studies and Critical Theory. In other words, it has been partly the job of these scholars to render traditional discourses of black life and culture as unrecognizable from those traditions in an effort to create a space for alternative visions of black life and culture, on the one hand countering white supremacist doctrine and on the other, challenging the hegemony of mainstream black institutions. The written work of scholars such as Hortense Spillers, Houston Baker, Jr., Paul Gilroy and Michael Awkward, as well as the public lectures of West and Michael Eric Dyson, are text-book examples of how difficult it can be to follow many of these themes. Some would recognize this as representing a certain complexity of thought among these scholars or at least, an over-reliance on post-structuralist jargon. Derbyshire just calls it "bad" writing.

Race Matters was a particularly perplexing book for some readers, because it attempted to "shorthand" some of West's more erudite commentary. In short, if the goal of Beacon Press and even West, was to make Race Matters a "best-selling" commentary on "matters of race", then that would most likely be achieved via a 150-page book as opposed to a 500 page one. It is well known within the field of African-American studies that Race Matters was heavily edited for just that reason — to make West a viable cross-over star. This is not to say that 500 page non-fiction books cannot be best-sellers, but 500 hundred page, non-fiction books by black intellectuals might be a difficult sell for audiences who are largely unaware that a black intellectual tradition exists. Such readers probably regard public figures like Jesse Jackson, Louis Farrakhan, Magic Johnson, and Ja Rule as being the most visible purveyors of black intellectual thought.

The reality is that even in the era of the Black Public Intellectual, black thinkers and artist are rarely allowed a "public complexity", but rather, they are reduced to the smallest possible "racial box" in order to sell them and their ideas to a mainstream audience, black and non-black, who have never thought of "blackness" as being complex at all. Thus there is no language, for example, to think of Jay Z as a "entrepreneurial Gramscian thug" instead of just a "gangsta rapper". In this environment John McWhorter's largely anecdotal Losing the Race: Self-Sabotage in Black America (2000) is hailed as a "brave intellectual achievement", instead of just a collection of uncritical perceptions about black life. The small space allowed Black Public Intellectuals was made painfully clear a few months ago, when Michael Eric Dyson appeared on Book Notes with Brian Lamb to promote his latest book, Holler If You Hear Me: Searching for Tupac Shakur. Admittedly, Lamb's audience is not the type that would be familiar with Shakur or Dyson for that matter, but rather letting Dyson do his thing, when given time and freedom, he can "perform" like the good Rev. Green-Dyson. Instead, he was reduced to answering simply inane questions from Lamb like: "What's a homie? . . . OK, then what's a ho (whore)? Then what's a bitch?"

In his article, Derbyshire doesn't grant black intellectuals and the field of African-American studies much complexity. Of the presence of the German born literary critic at the Du Bois Institute at Harvard, Derbyshire writes, the "presence of Prof. Sollors is encouraging, suggesting that this is not entirely a boondoggle for otherwise-unemployable black intellectuals." (As an aside, Derbyshire rails against the fact the institute was named after a communist, again showing his ignorance about the complexity of even Du Bois's legacy). In other words, the department can only be validated by the presence of a "white" and therefore presumably "objective" scholar. Derbyshire finally suggest that African-American studies is bankrupt because it doesn't engage in a formal mode of peer review. He writes, "You publish a paper in a learned journal, or read it at a scholarly conference, and scholars in your field then scrutinize it. Does this actually happen in 'Afro-American Studies'? My guess is that it doesn't.

Derbyshire should guess again. Phylon and the Journal of Negro History were pillars of black intellectual life for much of the first half of the 20th century. Even today, journals such as African American Review, Callaloo, Black Renaissance/Renaissance Noire, The Western Journal of Black Studies and Transition (which is housed at the Du Bois Institute), as well as "non-black" journals such as Social Text and Public Culture (which published a ground-breaking issue on the "Black Public Sphere" in the mid 1990s), are some of the places where black scholars do in fact face rigorous forms of peer review. Clearly, there was no form of peer review for Derbyshire before he provided such an ignorant and condescending commentary on the field of African American Studies.

While Derbyshire can ultimately plead ignorance, Shelby Steele presumably knows better. Thus, his mean-spirited diatribe against West, et al, in The Wall Street Journal ("White Guilt=Black Power", 1.8.02) is not so easily dismissed. There is a long history of difference between West and Steele, who are the most visible poles of liberal and conservative ideology in blackface. Currently a research fellow at the hyper-conservative Hoover Institution, which also houses fellows Thomas Sowell, Dinesh D'Souza and National Security Advisor Condoleeza Rice, Steele, who is trained in literature, earned the National Book Critic's Circle Award for his largely anecdotal The Content of Our Character: A New Vision of Race in America (1990). (Steele is John McWhorter's intellectual father.) Steele has been the consistent voice of blackface commentary against Affirmative Action and Multiculturalism. In classic form, Steele used the West controversy to attack white liberal guilt. In the article, he describes West as an "academic lightweight." (To put his statement in perspective, Steele has published two books, while West has written or edited close to twenty. As my momma would be apt to say, this is the "pot (cast iron) calling the kettle black".) Steele's argument is that West is a University Professor at Harvard only as a function of Affirmative Action policies. Of course, Steele doesn't openly discuss whether he is only allowed a voice at The Wall Street Journal because he, too, is a mediocre scholar who has been given a "conservative pass" — because he is the most visible (and decidedly uncritical) apologist for black ambition.

Steele goes on to describe "white guilt" (which he accuses of Lawrence Summers) as "best understood as a vacuum of moral authority . . . it means whites lack the authority to say what they see when looking at blacks and black problems." (Wall Street Journal, 1.8.02) Apparently, Steele is unaware of the moral authority of white (and black) law enforcement officers, who racially profile black and Latino/a people throughout the country. I'm pretty sure that the family of Amadou Diallo (an unarmed man who was shot to death by New York police) or Sherae Williams (who was "quietly" beaten by NYPD officers), would agree that there is a vacuum of moral authority and privilege among whites. While I concur to some degree that Jackson and Sharpton function as enforcers of white guilt and silence, I am hard pressed to find examples where that has translated into real institutional or political power.

Now, thanks to this debate, America has some idea of the Black intellectual tradition, though figures like Steele, Derbyshire and Kimball will have you believe that it is at best "mediocre", and at worst bankrupt. On the other hand, "spokespersons" such as Sharpton, Jackson and Joyner/Smiley have in some way undermined the self-critical functions of the black intelligentsia. As if in the name of brokering perceptions within the mainstream, there is really some connection to their efforts and the work being produced in the field of African-American Studies. This is simply not the case, unless you count the recent Hip Hop Summit. One hopes that such energy will be used in the future to support the efforts of those folks who actually do meaningful, scholarly work in the field, instead of supporting those who show up regularly on Nightline, Charlie Rose, and C-Span 2. With such support for African-American studies and scholars, the kinds of attacks on the tradition made by the folks identified above will be seen as nothing more than racist attacks on the intellectual capabilities of the black community. For they are certainly not insightful commentary.

The year in song reflected the state of the world around us. Here are the 70 songs that spoke to us this year.

70. The Horrors - "Machine"

On their fifth album V, the Horrors expand on the bright, psychedelic territory they explored with Luminous, anchoring the ten new tracks with retro synths and guitar fuzz freakouts. "Machine" is the delicious outlier and the most vitriolic cut on the record, with Faris Badwan belting out accusations to the song's subject, who may even be us. The concept of alienation is nothing new, but here the Brits incorporate a beautiful metaphor of an insect trapped in amber as an illustration of the human caught within modernity. Whether our trappings are technological, psychological, or something else entirely makes the statement all the more chilling. - Tristan Kneschke

Keep reading... Show less

This has been a remarkable year for shoegaze. If it were only for the re-raising of two central pillars of the initial scene it would still have been enough, but that wasn't even the half of it.

It hardly needs to be said that the last 12 months haven't been everyone's favorite, but it does deserve to be noted that 2017 has been a remarkable year for shoegaze. If it were only for the re-raising of two central pillars of the initial scene it would still have been enough, but that wasn't even the half of it. Other longtime dreamers either reappeared or kept up their recent hot streaks, and a number of relative newcomers established their place in what has become one of the more robust rock subgenre subcultures out there.

Keep reading... Show less
Theatre

​'The Ferryman': Ephemeral Ideas, Eternal Tragedies

The current cast of The Ferryman in London's West End. Photo by Johan Persson. (Courtesy of The Corner Shop)

Staggeringly multi-layered, dangerously fast-paced and rich in characterizations, dialogue and context, Jez Butterworth's new hit about a family during the time of Ireland's the Troubles leaves the audience breathless, sweaty and tearful, in a nightmarish, dry-heaving haze.

"Vanishing. It's a powerful word, that"

Northern Ireland, Rural Derry, 1981, nighttime. The local ringleader of the Irish Republican Army gun-toting comrades ambushes a priest and tells him that the body of one Seamus Carney has been recovered. It is said that the man had spent a full ten years rotting in a bog. The IRA gunslinger, Muldoon, orders the priest to arrange for the Carney family not to utter a word of what had happened to the wretched man.

Keep reading... Show less
9

Nowhere else in the merging of modern cinema and film criticism can you find such a strangely symbiotic relationship.

Both Roger Ebert and Werner Herzog are such idiosyncratically iconoclastic giants in their respective fields that it's very likely the world will never see an adequate replacement for each. While Herzog continues to follow his own singular artistic vision, the world has since lost the wit and wisdom of Ebert, arguably the last of the truly great film critics and custodians of the sacred medium. Between the two it becomes clear that there was an unremarked upon but nonetheless present mutual respect and admiration. Though here it tends to come off far more one-sided, save the opening transcript of a workshop held at the Facets Multimedia Center in Chicago in 1979 hosted by Ebert and featured Herzog and a handful of later interviews, there still comes through in their dialogue a meeting of like-minded, thoughtful individuals with a great love for the cinema and exploring the extremes of human creativity.

Keep reading... Show less

If The Prince of Nothingwood will popularly be remembered for celebrating the creative spirit of its star Salim Shaheen, it is equally an important communication on Afghanistan, it's culture and its people.

"Now I am just more tired and poor. So no, I haven't changed. I'm just older and more tired," says French radio journalist and documentarian Sonia Kronlund, as she looks back on the experience of making The Prince of Nothingwood (2017).

Joining Salim Shaheen, the most popular and prolific actor-director-producer in Afghanistan on his 111th no budget feature, Kronlund documents the week-long shoot and the events surrounding it. She crafts an insight into a larger than life persona, yet amidst the comedy and theatricality of Shaheen and his troupe of collaborators, she uncovers the heavier tones of the everyday reality of war and patriarchal oppression. If The Prince of Nothingwood will popularly be remembered for celebrating the creative spirit of its star, it is equally an important communication on Afghanistan, it's culture and its people. Alongside the awareness of the country cultivated by mainstream media news outlets, Kronlund's film offers an insight into a country that can humanise the prejudice and xenophobic tendencies of a western perspective towards Afghanistan.

In October of this year at the UK premiere at the BFI London Film Festival, Kronlund spoke with PopMatters about being driven by questions rather than inspiration. She also reflected on the subjective nature of documentary filmmaking, the necessary artistic compromises of filming in Afghanistan, and feeling a satisfaction with imperfections.

Why filmmaking as a means of expression? Was there an inspirational or defining moment?

Not really, no. I have always done documentary. I used to write scripts and TV series but I only make documentaries myself for radio and television. For this story, I figured out after a while that it deserved a bigger ambition and a bigger screen and that's why I don't very much believe in inspiration. To be honest, I made this film because I had to do something. I didn't have a big project where I thought: I want to make this. I went there and I found a little money and at the end the ambition and the inspiration came along the way. But there was not an urgent necessity to make this film. It fits with a lot of things that I'm interested in, like popular culture -- What does art stand for and why do we go to the cinema? What is the purpose? This is a question I'm interested in, but inspiration, not so much.

Has The Prince of Nothingwood provided you with the answers to those questions?

It has, and I hope it helps people to think about this question. It tells you that there is an urgent need to make images, to make films, even during war,and even if you don't have the money. And even if the films are not very good, they will find somebody who will like them. So something is going to happen, and I think that's very touching. I don't like Shaheen's films, I hardly watched them -- I paid somebody to watch them. But I'm very moved by all these people that do like his films, and it makes you think about the value of art and the purpose of why we make cinema. I used to study aesthetics in London, so it was one of the questions I had and while the film is lighter than this, that's what was in mind.

The film uses Shaheen as a doorway, beginning as a story about one man which becomes a story about Afghanistan, its people and culture.

Yeah, but it's not so much about Afghanistan and it's not my purpose is to say things about the country. There's one guy like him in Iran who makes cowboy movies in the Iranian desert and there's also a guy like that in Tunisia. I mean you have this person with an urgent need to film whatever they have under their hand and since it's war, then it tells you something about the war. But it's not so much interested in him.

There was a lot of editing, 148 hours that you haven't seen [laughs]. Making a documentary is really telling a story and I don't have any idea of objectivity -- it is my point of view on Shaheen. Some people say to me that they would like to show his films, that they really want to see his films, and I say: "You don't see how much I have edited. I show you the very nice parts of his films." People think he's a great filmmaker and that's the story I wanted to tell -- but I could have told another story.

To my mind, objectivity is a human construct, a falsity that does not exist.

Except mathematics maybe, and sometimes physics.

The purist opinion of documentary as objective is therein built on a faulty premise. From the subjective choices of the filmmakers that bleed into the film to the subjectivity of the subjects, it's not purely objective. Hence, it calls into question the traditional dividing line of the objectivity of documentary and the subjectivity of narrative fiction.

Totally! It's the editing, and why you chose this guy, how you film it and what you show, or what you don't show. It's not only subjectivity, it's storytelling. Not many people ask me about this, they take it for granted that it's the real Shaheen. But I'm not lying, I'm not saying things that aren't true, but I am telling a story, a fictional story out of what I filmed. I took scenes that happened one day and I put them with another story that happened three months later and that's why we had seven months of editing with three editors. So it was a lot of work.

One of the striking aspects of the film are the light and comedic moments offset by a darker and heavier sensibility, which include moments when, for example, Shaheen talks about arranged marriages.

We made 70rough cuts and there was one version we tested and you couldn't believe you were in Afghanistan. People would say: "Oh this is too funny. You don't see Afghanistan, it's just a bunch of crazy guys." I then said: "Let's put in a little more darkness." You then have to strike a balance and to me, if it's not perfect, I'm happy.

Shooting the film in a dangerous and volatile part of the world, was the approach that once you had enough footage you then looked to shaping the film in the edit?

It's not when you feel you have enough, it's finding a balance between security and artistic concerns. That's it. You have a plan and you have an agenda. There are things you want to do, but it has to be balanced with security concerns. The real story I was going to tell about Shaheen I found in the editing room and in the end, I only kept five days of the shoot. The whole film takes place in Bamyan (Province), nothing in Kabul, although I had weeks and weeks of footage there that I had to take away.

There's a moment when Shaheen asks if you are scared, which sees him verbalise our silent recognition of your boldness and courage to bring this story to the screen.

It's very difficult and it's not like you are walking in the street and there's a bomb. This is not what's difficult. The difficulty is to cope with your fear and to have rules and to follow or to not follow those rules. There are many foreign people that never go out at all in Kabul -- it is forbidden. You have British diplomats who do not even drive their car from the airport to the embassy -- they will take an helicopter that costs £2,000 each way. Then you have foreign people who walk in the street without a scarf -- these girls get kidnapped.

In between these you have Shaheen, who is telling me all the time that I'm too scared, because it's a man's value to be brave and he's a brave guy, there's no question about that. He was in an attack two weeks ago. There was a bomb in a Shia Mosque and he helped to carry out the bodies. So there's no kidding about the fact that he's a brave guy and he has to be because he's been fighting to make his films. But you are in the middle of this and I'm not a brave person at all and I don't think being brave is a very important question. It is, but I'm not brave, I'm very scared and so in the middle of all of this stress it's enough just to manage to not go crazy, or to not drink too much [laughs].

Salim Shaheen and Sonia Kronlund (courtesy of Pyramide Films)

Related Articles Around the Web
Pop Ten
Mixed Media
PM Picks

© 1999-2017 Popmatters.com. All rights reserved.
Popmatters is wholly independently owned and operated.

rating-image