Modern-Day Belief and Desire in Mission Impossible Rogue Nation
No, the entertainment industry does not explicitly advocate
the causes of today’s ruling class. If truth be told, both the TV and film industry,
as capitalist as any other, have a long history of doing the exact opposite, of
seeming to bite the hand that feeds them. Capitalist figures (think Montgomery
Burns, Jabba the Hutt, Ebenezer Scrooge, Gordon Gekko, and so on) are far more
likely to be portrayed as villains than as heroic saviors. And any film that
explicitly aims to promote the virtues of capitalism will have little if any
chance of raising the necessary capital to go into production, a seeming irony.
But to see the lack of a pro-capitalist message as evidence of an
anti-capitalist “liberal” bias in the entertainment industry, or, more alarming
to some, as a sign of weakness within capitalist hegemony, is to misunderstand
how power and ideology function in our time.
Consider the newspaper industry as an example. Sure, almost
every major newspaper in the U.S. is owned by one or more major corporations
who have explicit if unwritten rules about what can and can’t be covered as news,
but, to be profitable, a newspaper can’t simply publish information that
accords with the interests of specific corporations. Though newspapers may be
owned by capitalists, it’s the masses, the working-class primarily, who have to
buy those newspapers in order for the capitalist owners to make a profit. You
won’t sell many papers by reporting exclusively on the fluctuations in the
stock market, the year’s top wines, golf and yachting tips, or international
tax havens. A profitable newspaper has to represent the dominant ideology in such
a way that it appeals to the interests of ordinary people. To do that, it has
to dwell on non-threatening (and seemingly
apolitical) consumer interests, such as sports or celebrity gossip, and it can’t
entirely ignore the sincere doubt and indignation that ordinary people have
towards the ruling class, for our political leaders, in particular. To turn a
profit, a newspaper can’t only focus on safe and ostensibly apolitical stories;
it has to honestly address regular people’s real-life problems and the subsequent
complaints that arise to confront those problems.
The film industry is no different. You can’t sell a movie to
a mass audience by ignoring the problems of the masses. You can’t, for example,
claim that capitalism has given ordinary working people a happy carefree
prosperous life, for one simple reason: ordinary working people don’t live happy
carefree prosperous lives. To sell your movie to a large audience, you have to
either whisk people off to fantasy land (a seemingly apolitical maneuver that,
like a sports article in the newspaper, serves the explicit political function
of providing an escapist compensation for the suffering of real life) or speak directly
to reality, to the very real concerns of the masses, to the material facts of most
people’s lives that can’t be hidden, but in such a way that it avoids any
revolutionary implications. Since certain concrete truths are too obvious to
ignore, modern propaganda works not to hide reality but to obfuscate and disguise
it.
If the US public has developed a growing mistrust of
bureaucratic institutions responsible for intelligence gathering, then your
film, if it wants to connect with the average viewer, should honestly represent
that mistrust. To establish your street cred, so to speak, your film will have
to accurately demonstrate the potential problems associated with massive
surveillance. If certain sections of government can operate in secret and
without democratic oversight, then what’s to prevent those agencies from
forming their own independent agendas and then working against the very
institutions that empowered their autonomy in the first place? What’s to prevent intelligence agencies from
becoming terrorist agencies? Thanks to the recent revelations of Edward Snowden
and Wikileaks, such questions can no longer be laughed off as the conspiracy
paranoia of fanatics. The threat that intelligence agencies pose to democracy
is real, and in the recent film Mission
Impossible Rogue Nation, that very legitimate threat is actualized, at
least in fictional form. Former Secret Service agent Solomon Lane has hijacked
a covert operation of the British government and formed the Syndicate, a rogue international
terrorist organization dedicated to stirring up civil unrest. The Syndicate is
described in the film as doing the exact same thing as the IMF, not the
International Monetary Fund but the Impossible Missions Force, otherwise known
as the good guys. “They’re trained to do what we do,” says Ethan Hunt (Tom
Cruise), the film’s protagonist, an IMF member who goes rogue himself after the
IMF is defunded by congressional committee. And what the IMF does is perform
“impossible missions”, which is a simpler way of saying that they use
technology, information, and trickery to manipulate environmental variables to
produce desired outcomes. Put another
way, they manage history. CIA director Hunley’s (Alec Baldwin) description of
Ethan Hunt would work as a raison d’etre for the IMF as a whole: “the living
manifestation of destiny.”
Michelle Foucoult’s idea of bio-power has been described as
power directed at man in general rather than at specific bodies. Traditional
ideas of power stressed a sovereign’s ability to censor individual bodies, to
repress one’s desire, or, more explicitly, they stressed the sovereign right
and ability to kill; but while coercive power perhaps lurks behind modern
forces of control, it is not, according to theorists such as Foucoult and
Deleuze-Guattari, the primary means by which modern societies are organized and
governed. Today, the freedom of bodies isn’t limited so much as it is forced to
produce. Desire, in today’s culture, doesn’t have to be repressed, it has to be
harnessed, which is accomplished less and less through laws that threaten
punishment when disobeyed, through the threat of violence, and increasingly
through administrative methods, through the creation of environments and
technology that direct and even monopolize attention and therefore behavior in
specific and designed ways, thus mediating social interaction and expression.
No one thinks of a cell phone, pornographic film, or a highway as a type of
social authority, but each of those technologies changes the way we interact
with one another and move through space, thereby not censoring but shaping our
lives and our desires. Power in today’s societies, bio-power, is increasingly not
enforced or imposed but administered. By creating environments that suggest
certain actions while concealing other possibilities, behavior can be managed
with little or no need of explicit force. Today’s leaders, namely those in
administrative positions, rule not with a mighty fist but with scientific
planning principles. Put another way, they manage history. They are the living
manifestation of destiny. As expressed by theorist Giorgio Agamben, life can no
longer be distinguished outside the political technologies of control.
In Antonio Gramsci’s description of the hegemonic process,
we learn that it isn’t necessary for the dominant class to sell a particular
belief-system to the masses. What’s necessary is that the masses don’t acquire
a comprehensive awareness of the hegemonic order that exploits them—that they
don’t too strongly disbelieve in the
system or understand too clearly what “the system” really means. One way to
accomplish that is to represent an outdated mode of power and then condemn it.
Films that vilify capitalists often take this course. Capitalist figures aren’t
treated with much respect by the entertainment industry for several reasons,
one of which is the indisputable fact that the nature of capitalism has changed
and that today’s corporate dominated capitalism, developed with the credit
system, has an increasing tendency to separate administrative functions from
the ownership of capital, a trend Marx foresaw when he declared that it, this trend, "is the abolition of capital as private property within the framework of capitalist production itself."Truth is, socialized private property, not private property
owned by a few robber barons, has been the dominate form of American capitalism
since as early as the 1930s. Portraying capitalists as evil is as threatening
to modern neo-liberal capitalist hegemony as critiquing the divine right of
kings.1
But films such as MIRN take another approach to navigating
the dictates of capital. MIRN doesn’t try to shift the focus of revolutionary
energies to outdated and irrelevant modes of power, doesn’t channel protest
toward the attacking of windmills, nor does it tell viewers to believe in
Capitalism, or to venerate rich people, or even to trust our governmental
leaders. But it does make any kind of coherent counter-belief (or belief
period) more difficult. The film begins by representing legitimate fears about our
present government’s unchecked and unprecedented surveillance and
intelligence-gathering powers. And the film makes no effort to convince viewers
that those fears are unwarranted. Instead, it conflates our fears of an
autonomous US intelligence agency with fears of terrorism, international
conspiracies, and crime in general. The subtitle of the film, Rogue Nation,
voices a complaint made frequently and convincingly by leftist critics, a
complaint that the United States is the most rogue nation on the planet, that
it operates especially on the international scene and increasingly on the
domestic scene as an unchecked power that flagrantly disregards basic human
rights in order to protect its own interests. But the Rogue Nation of the
film’s title doesn’t refer to the US government, except obliquely; it refers to
the nebulous menace identified as the Syndicate. Sort of. Ethan Hunt and the group he belongs to, the
IMF, also go rogue in the film after the organization’s funding is denied. And
then the two rogue institutions do battle. Going rogue, the film implies, isn’t
the problem. In fact, as our obsession with comic-book superheroes such as
Batman, The Hulk, and the Wolverine attests, one could argue that going rogue
is almost a pre-requisite for becoming an American Hero. The effect of using
the same term to describe so many different types of individuals and
institutions serves to obfuscate our sense of the term as threatening, which
then serves to mitigate our concerns about the rogue powers of government
bureaucracy. Expressing concerns that the NSA could go rogue almost sounds
sexy.
Not only is it sexy, but the idea of going rogue
demonstrates a common device that modern civilizations use to deflect criticism
away from administrative issues, a device Roland Barthes calls inoculation, the
strategy of admitting a little bit of corruption into an institution so as to
ward off awareness of its fundamental problems. 2 We see
inoculation at work, for instance, in the argument that the problem of police
violence isn’t with the official policies and practices of the police
department; it’s just that there are a few bad eggs the department needs to get
rid of. This gives the impression that the institution is capable of reform and
that its problems aren’t systemic. The rogue cop, like the rogue judge, the
rogue CIA agent, the rogue teacher, the rogue bank investor, and the rogue
superhero, plays an important role in maintaining cultural hegemony. The rogue
can serve both as scapegoat and as savior.
If the American public, for good reason, distrusts the CIA
and NSA, distrusts its own legislative bodies as well as those of our closest
allies, such as Britain, then any film that portrays those institutions, if it
wishes to make a profit, has to represent that distrust.
And MIRN does. It
pokes fun of authority of all kinds, from the CIA and the Secret Service to the
legislative bodies ostensibly empowered to keep them in check. MIRN is yet
another anti-authority film, a staple of Hollywood, in which the rogue agent
for Impossible Mission Forces, the other IMF, isn’t just fighting the evil
Syndicate, a rogue outsider nation run by an ex-insider British MI6 agent, he’s
fighting the whole system. And the system, in this case, is somewhat accurately
represented as a system that operates beyond a recognizable or representable
authority, through the bio-power of administrators. The problem, though, is
that the really bad guys, not just the sorta bad guys (CIA), also employ
bio-power to attain their ends. As a result, the problem of bio-power, or this
specific instance of it, which is the use of intelligence and technology to
administer society in ways amenable to the ruling class, isn’t confined solely
to states or corporations, to the ruling class, but to people, nay, to life, in
general—which is exactly what bio-power is, the power to manage bare life. It
isn’t the improper use of bio-power, the film tells us, but bio-power itself
that becomes the problem, which is to say that it isn’t governments or
corporations but life itself and its implicit evil that we have to be concerned
with. In other words, rather than confronting bio-power, we should accept our
democratic sovereignty to administer bio-power ourselves, to become our own
living manifestation of destiny. We should all become administrative managers
of our lives, participate full-on in what Foucoult refers to as the self-care
industry. We should use our inner rogue to combat our inner rogue, for the
enemy and the savior are within ourselves, which is to say that we are all become
homerus sacri and villain at once, both the villain as well as the villain’s
conqueror. Political institutions cannot be blamed for our troubles, nor can we
look to the institutions to save us. We have to save ourselves from ourselves.
The film’s counter-subversive power comes as much through
confusing the potential problems associated with government intelligence
gathering as through the de-politicization of the issue altogether. If going
rogue is hip, then being overtly political is its anti-thesis, and the film
tries hard not to align itself with any specific political agenda. The problem
of going rogue isn’t presented as a problem unique to US intelligence gathering
or to government intelligence gathering period, or even as a problem. It’s
problematic, perhaps, but problematic in the way that human nature is
problematic. It isn’t a problem of the system, a creation of a human
organization; it’s a problem of human nature, of evil people like Solomon Lane,
who will always be with us whether we live under the rule of mercenaries or
kings. That’s the hidden message behind films such as MIRN: it isn’t that your
fear is misguided, it just isn’t thorough enough. You SHOULD be fearful of what
your government leaders might do and about programs that authorize unprecedented
levels of government surveillance—and your fears are well-founded, but you
should also be fearful of those telling you to be fearful, fearful of potential
enemies and the enemies of your enemies and the enemies of those enemies and of
friends, too. Everyone should be under suspicion, because the world is a wicked
place, full of treachery and deceit, which is precisely why we need
intelligence gathering. The message from the film is the same as the message of
the TV series X-files: Trust No One. And since no one or no thing can be
trusted, material reality is no longer an issue. What matters isn’t what’s real
or not real, for who’s to say what’s real in the modern age of the Simulacra?
Neither does it matter whether you believe or disbelieve—it’s that you want to
believe, and what you want to
believe, that’s important.
We all know that the missions of the IMF really are
impossible, except in the alternative universe of Hollywood cinema, but that’s
not the point. What binds us together as members of societies governed by
bio-power isn’t a shared idea of truth, a common belief system that takes
belief seriously; it’s desire that unites us—not really believing but wanting
to believe the same thing. This is where the stunts of the film become more than
just an afterthought or gimmick. In fact, they might be the most important
elements of the Mission Impossible series. Of course we know that in real life you
can’t race through Istanbul on a motorbike at speeds of over a hundred miles an
hour. We know you can’t crash at that speed and escape major injury. But truth
doesn’t matter. Nor does belief. As Slavov Zizec has pointed out, belief and
ideology can be maintained as easily through others as through ourselves—and
that’s true even if the others, the true believers, are completely contrived.
As long as we want there to be someone who believes, that’s all that matters.
That’s enough to maintain the system of belief and all the rituals related to
it. In this case, we want to believe that life is manageable, that we can fully
subjugate all its messy abject qualities into the safe haven of an administered
society—into the polis, which, in today’s world, is almost wholly fictional—a
fictional world that now serves to replace material reality, that mediates our
very access to the material, so that, as in a Concentration Camp or a
monastery, rule and material fact are no longer distinguishable. Our common
desire is for the material to be exorcised from existence so we can thereby
gain the immortality that the proliferation of images has always offered: the
cartooning of the body into a machine that can take ever more severe punishments
and keep on ticking, as something torn out of its original context that now
floats free on the ebb and flow of market forces. Not only is the commodified
body that we create on Facebook and Twitter and Match.com free to circulate in
space, but also it has lost its moorings in the past. 2
The stunts performed in MIRN, like Wily
Coyote cartoons, satisfy the modern mind’s desire to be free of history and
nature, to be liberated in the eternal present of the commodity. This is the
goal of bio power today: to commodify bare life, body and spirit, and it’s our
desire to transcend human limitation, to exile bare life, that binds us to
today’s mechanized power wielders. We wish to exile our natural bodies, the
Homo Sacer of today, and become pure image, a sovereign free and everlasting,
that, like Ethan Hunt, can’t be destroyed because he has fully transformed into
the impossible.