Visual Culture Blog

“I am in Tripoli and not in Venezuela.” These words uttered by Muammar Gaddafi late in the night on Libyan state television will be remembered as a key moment in the downfall of an autocratic and ruthless regime. Western media pundits were quick to point to the bizarreness of the TV footage, referring to Gaddafi’s ‘eccentricity’, implying that few elements in this artifact of visual culture made any sense. Some have even compared Gaddafi’s appearance with the surrealist art of the spanish painter Salvador Dali. At the same time, conspiracy theories emerged almost immediately. Gaddafi is holding a large umbrella, but did it actually rain that evening? Rain is so rare in that part of the world that it is a valid question.

Yet a more careful reading of Gaddafi’s short but memorable TV appearance shows that a number of elements are likely very deliberately planned and executed. Ever since the footage was screened, there has been a huge amount of curiosity regarding the vehicle that Gaddafi is sitting in. Here, it is important to point out that Gaddafi is sitting in the driving seat, clearly signifying that he is in charge of determining the direction his country is heading towards. Gaddafi’s TV appearance is reminscient of propaganda billboards erected throughout the country, which depict the dictator driving a Volkswagen Beetle.

The message is clear: he is the ‘driving’ force in running the country. Unlike the Volkswagen Beetle however, the vehicle depicted in the TV footage is, importantly, a car with only one seat. While the propaganda billboard shows Gaddafi driving without passengers, the single seated vehicle even negates the possibility of any passengers. In other words, Gaddafi is depicted running the country, without any interference, all by himself. The single-seated vehicle in the TV footage signifies precisely the type of state Gaddafi is leading: autocracy is defined as a system government by one person with absolute power.

Gaddafi’s compound in Bab Al Azizia in Tripoli, bombed by American Forces in 1986.

Gaddafi’s bombed home at Bab Al Azizia, Libya, 1987, by Peter Arkell/Impact Photos

Google Earth image of Bab Al Azizia, location of Gaddafi’s compound in Tripoli, 2011

The most important aspect of the footage is the location where it was made. Gaddafi says, “I am in Tripoli”. More precisely, Gaddafi is located in front of his compound in Bab Al Azizia which was heavily bombed by the Reagan administration in 1986. Instead of rebuilding the shattered compound, Gaddafi chose to leave it as it is. The skeletal structure of the building acts as a powerful message of defiance and resilience. In 2003, just as Libya’s relationship with the West was thawing, Gaddafi even held a beauty pageant with international contestants, including British and American women, at this historically important site. The British photographer Muir Vidler produced a strikingly surreal series of photographs that depict the proceedings. The Bab Al Azizia compound would also become the backdrop to Nicolas Sarkozy’s state visit to Libya in 2007. The photograph clearly depicts Sarkozy’s discomfort for being turned into a strategically placed pawn by Gaddafi’s propaganda apparatus.

Muir Vidler, Libyan Beauty Pageant, 2003

Nicolas Sarkozy state visit to Libya in 2007

Hugo Chavez state visit to Libya in 2006

Gaddafi’s late night TV appearance thus sets up a fairly complex web of signifiers that might not be immediately determinable. By depicting himself in a single-seated car, Gaddafi wishes to communicate that it is still him, who is leading the country. The location is carefully chosen as a site of historical importance, signifying Gaddafi’s assumed resilience and defiance vis a vis the most powerful nation on earth. Gaddafi portrays himself as David standing up against Goliath. But the message is also directed at Britain, as it was the British Foreign Secretary William Hague who initially speculated that Gaddafi was on his way to Venezuela. A photograph of Hugo Chavez and Gaddafi in a luxury car is an ironic symbol for Venezuela’s close ties with Libya. Unlike the TV footage however, it showed Chavez in the driving seat. In his very brief TV appearance, Gaddafi thus sets up a geopolitical web of international relations that spans the whole globe. Similar to my blog post on the final speech by the former Romanian president Nicolae Ceausescu, the signs and symbols used in Gaddafi’s TV appearance are a desperate attempt to cling on to the steering wheel.

For more on cultural production in the Arab world, please read Arab Cultural Studies: Mapping the Field edited by Tarik Sabry. Other recommendations can be found in our online bookshop.

In the new TV show ‘Sarah Palin’s Alaska’, the former vice-presidential candidate is shown shooting a Caribou. The footage has caused a major backlash, lead by Aaron Sorkin, the creator of the TV show West Wing, arguing that Palin shot an animal ‘for political gain’. As Palin is expected to run for president in 2012, the counter question would be, how can it be anything other than for political gain?

The footage shows Palin and two men hiding in the Alaskan wilderness. After they spotted the Caribou, the men instruct Palin on how and when to shoot the animal. For a brief instance, the camera depicts a cloudy sky as the music intensifies. Clearly, the viewer is made to understand that this is a potentially threatening encounter with woman and nature. Palin misses the first shot. The volume of the music increases as the Caribou now appears to look straight at Palin. The intensity grows exponentially as there is a brief confusion of how to shoot the beast. And then, almost in the last possible instance, Palin lands the shot that would bring down the Caribou. One of the men congratulates either Palin, the Caribou, or both, with the jubilant words: ‘There you guy baby, there you go.’ Palin meanwhile, far more in control of her emotions then the men, whispers as if the potential threat is still lingering. After approaching the beast, one of the men asks ‘Is it dead?’, while Palin, after a brief assessment declares in a matter of fact voice ‘It’s dead!’. The music dramatically changes from Armageddon to a fun day out for the family.

So why would this TV footage be derided for being used ‘for political gain’. It depicts Sarah Palin as a strong woman, who, with the right men around her, can succeed in a male-dominated world. In a sense, the footage foreshadows Palin’s ambitions to run for President, while her running mate(s) were signified by the two men to her side. Palin often refers to looking a threat straight into the eye. Here, the visual encounter with the enemy is important (e.g. in the same way Palin can see Russia from her front porch, she can see a Caribou in the far distance). Although the mildly dangerous animal is about 100 meters away, the visual encounter with a potential threat marks an important aspect of the footage. The point is that, akin to a shifting signifier, the Caribou, in the mind of the viewer, can be replaced with any other threat to America’s national security.

Any number of presidential candidates made use of such an ideologically loaded image in American popular culture. Even the democrat John Kerry, while running for President in 2004, was eager to have himself photographed goose hunting in Ohio. The following day, on October 22nd 2004, Dick Cheney launched an impassioned attack on Kerry, deriding him for wearing a camouflaged jacket that looked brand new. ‘Which did make me wonder how regularly he does go goose hunting,’ Dick Cheney said then. After Cheney accidentally shot a fellow hunter in February 2006, such criticism would never be uttered again.

Sarah Palin shoots a Caribou for political gain. But the shooting itself is politically insignificant. It is only once a visual representation of the shooting is disseminated in mass media and culture, that this representation reaches it’s full effectiveness. As the storm clouds are gathering over the Alaskan wilderness again, Sarah Palin sets her eyes on the next target.

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The analogy between giving birth and the rescue operation of the Chilean miners was self-evidential. The Chilean president spoke about the miners being released from the ‘belly’ of the earth. Commentators also made the parallel to the biblical figure of Jonah reborn from the belly of a whale. These parallels might have been further provoked by the constant reference to the miners’ deeply held Christian beliefs. Mario Gomez, the eldest of the 33 Chilean miners, dropped to his knees in prayer after exiting the rescue capsule. The Pope himself sent the miners his best wishes when they were rescued.

The story of the Chilean miners cannot however be reduced to a single belief system or religious visual culture. It was after all a global news event. It was a story that transcended cultural particularities and religious beliefs because it grappled with fears that are universal: the fear of being trapped, claustrophobia, being buried alive. The analogy of birth also transcends the specificities of the news story itself. Fully aware of the power of the televisual medium, the Chilean President Sebastián Piñera stood by the relatives of the first miner released from the belly of the earth. More significant in terms of the birth analogy was the presence of Health Minister Jaime Mañalich, a trained physician, who personally checked the condition of the first few miners. Similar to the figure of a midwife, his white coat signified to the global TV audience that his main concern was the condition of the patient. The miners were subsequently brought to a stretcher, emphasizing the message that the Chilean state is not taking anymore risks with these men, as they have been categorically denied to simply walk the few meters into the makeshift medical centre.

First visual contact with the miners and a baby in an ultrasound image.

On a visual level, the birth analogy was there almost from the very beginning. That eerie image of Florencio Avalos looking into the stethoscope camera confirmed that the miners were alive and well – an image that is also reminiscent of an ultrasound image of a baby. The men too were, due to the heat underground, almost entirely naked. Then there were the predictions when the miners would be rescued – a date more and more anticipated the closer it came. Finally, emerging from the belly of the earth under the gaze of the worldwide press, the story of the Chilean miners became the feel-good story of 2010 in the mass media. It was a story that thrived on its photographic and televisual representation so analogous to that of a mother giving birth to a child.

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